‘Would you have,’ Anna asked, ‘a copy of Leaves of Grass, signed by Whitman himself?’
He slowly lowered the newspaper, and blinked at her. ‘Holy shit!’
‘Please,’ Anna requested.
‘Yeah. Could be one in the back room. You’d better come through.’
‘Thank you.’ Anna carried her suitcase through a door into an inner office, remembering how, back in 1939, the Nazi spy she had dealt with in London had also operated a book shop. Nothing ever really changed, except that this man was entirely on her side.
He closed the door. ‘Who’re you trying to be?’
‘Miss Absolutely Nobody. You see Jerry a couple of days ago?’
‘Yeah. He was all shook up. What do you do to these guys?’
‘I didn’t know he gets seasick. He give you my message?’
‘He did. The goods are waiting for you. Two hundred five-shot magazines for your little gun. Two tommy guns with spare drums. And a bazooka with five rockets. You aiming to start a war?’
‘You never know your luck.’
‘So, you taking them now? They’re quite a load.’
‘My boat’s on the dock. Can you deliver?’
‘Sure. This afternoon.’
‘I won’t be there, but my man, Tommy Rawlings, will receive them. I wouldn’t like him to know what’s in the boxes.’
‘You got it. You travelling on company business?’
‘Private. I’ll see you, Donald.’
*
She took a taxi to the airport, went to the Pan Am desk, and bought a ticket on the next flight to Buenos Aires.
‘You stop in Belem for fuel and a crew change,’ the woman said.
‘Ah,’ Anna said. The last time she had been in Belem, she had been on her way out of Brazil, in a hurry. But, she reflected, she had then been flying in an RAF machine, and it was very unlikely that any Rio policeman would be at Belem airport. In any event, they too would be looking for a good-looking long-haired blonde.
‘Only an hour,’ the woman said reassuringly. ‘You’ll be in BA in the morning. Now, the return flight?’
‘Make it a week today.’ She had no intention of using it, but having a fixed departure date was always reassuring to local immigration officials.
‘Of course, Miss O’Rourke.’ She checked Anna’s passport to make sure that she had a valid visa; but the three did not include Brazil. ‘You understand that without a visa you will not be allowed to leave Belem airport?’
‘I wasn’t thinking of doing that.’
‘And, ah, payment?’
‘I’ll pay cash.’
The woman raised her eyebrow, but took the several hundred dollar bills and, somewhat laboriously, dealt out the necessary change. ‘You’ll be called in an hour.’
Anna retired to a quiet corner of the huge departure lounge and hid herself behind a newspaper. She felt, as always when working, totally relaxed. If she still had no idea what she was going to, she had no doubt that she would be able to cope with it, and afterwards. Having so carefully studied both Buenos Aires and Pont del Mar, using both the encyclopaedia and Fodor’s Guide she was already forming her plans for afterwards.
*
It was dark when the aircraft touched down at Belem, and she, and the other transit passengers, who were mainly South Americans of varying nationalities, were allowed to stretch their legs in an almost deserted terminal building. They were all very jolly, but to her relief, no one showed any great desire to get close to the somewhat dowdy woman with spectacles even if she was travelling on her own. And the next morning she was in Buenos Aires, where the temperature was distinctly cool. She took a taxi to the railway station, but annoyingly, she had just missed the train to Pont del Mar, which was not, as Baxter had said, a few miles south of the capital, but in fact three hundred, served by only one train a day. Again using her Fodor’s, she checked into a good hotel and spent a quiet day. The hotel was on the front, overlooking the Parque de Diversiones and the Avenue Costanera, and from her bedroom window she could look out at the huge estuary of the River Plate. Just across there was Uruguay, but here the word ‘just’ meant some thirty miles, while Montevideo was over a hundred miles towards the mouth of the estuary. That suited her just fine.
Next morning she put on a red woollen dress with a side vent – as she had no idea what she was going to encounter she wore her gun belt – matching high heels, and a panama hat with a matching ribbon. To go with this colourful outfit she added her gold bar earrings and her Junghans, but left her ruby ring in her shoulder bag along with her money and spare magazines. She then stowed her false glasses and put on her winged dark ones. Her hair she left loose save for a red retaining band. An angel going to war, she thought as she smiled at herself in the mirror. She would be remembered going in. But not coming out!
When she paid her bill, in US dollars, she took the opportunity to change a couple of hundred for pesos to use as change. The train left at eight, and for the next ten hours, punctuated by several stops, Anna gazed at flat uninteresting country on her right and the sea on her left. There was no way she was going to be able to leave this country in a hurry, or at all, in safety, except by sea. She thought that her two years of owning Fair Girl might turn out to be the most valuable of her life.
The train was full, and now she did attract glances, but mainly because she was so obviously not an Argentinian, and this was not the tourist season. And at last one man sat beside her as she ate her lunch; there was no dining car but a man pushing a trolley with beers, soft drinks and bocadilloes; these huge, hard ham rolls took a good deal of eating, and she was concentrating on the task when she discovered that she had close company, to make room for whom all her immediate fellow travellers had obligingly moved away. She put him down as the middle thirties; he was not very tall, but had a good body and quite handsome, aquiline features to go with his black hair, although his lips were a little thin. And he exuded a good deal of confidence. ‘You are going to Pont del Mar, senorita?’ She was not wearing gloves, and her fingers were bare.
‘Wouldn’t that seem to be obvious?’
‘Your Spanish is very good.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But the accent . . .?’
‘I am Irish,’ Anna explained.
‘Ah,’ he commented, as if that covered everything. ‘The reason I asked about your destination is that this train does not stop in Pont del Mar.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Oh, it stops there for tonight. But it goes further south tomorrow. It continues to Mar del Plata. Mar del Plata is a much more, how do I say, go-ahead place. Pont del Mar is just a fishing village being developed for tourism.’
‘I understand. Well, senor, I am stopping in Pont del Mar.’
‘You have friends there?’
‘No. I am a tourist.’
‘You know this is not the season?’
‘I like visiting places off season. They’re more real.’
‘I agree with you. But you see, as it is off season, most of the hotels will be closed. But of course you have a booking.’
‘I’m afraid not. Surely some will still be open?’ She hadn’t considered that possibility.
‘It may be difficult. May I recommend one?’
‘Can you?’
‘The Excelsior. It is open all the year round. But it is not cheap. Will that bother you?’
‘Not really.’
‘I did not think it would.’ Even without her ring there could be no doubting her wealth. ‘If you will permit me, there is something . . . special about you.’
‘You say the sweetest things. What do you think is special about me?’
He shrugged. ‘It is indefinable. But very present. An aura.’
‘You wouldn’t be trying to get fresh with me, I hope.’
‘No, senorita. I would not dream of getting fresh with you. But I would like to help you. Go to the Excelsior, and tell them it was recommended to you by Carlo
s Guimard.’
‘Did you say Carlos?’
‘It is Spanish for Charles. You do not like this name?’
‘No, no. It’s just that I knew a man named Carlos.’
‘He must have been fortunate.’
‘It was a very brief acquaintanceship.’
‘You mean you did not like him. Then he was not so fortunate.’
‘I never actually had time to form an opinion about him,’ Anna confessed. ‘We were ships that passed in the night.’
‘But you obviously remember him very well. So he made an impression on you. I would like to think that I may have done so, also. Now I must leave you. Have a nice stay in Pont del Mar.’ He got up. ‘Perhaps I will see you again.’
‘I shall look forward to that,’ Anna said, not quite sure whether she was lying or not. He seemed a very pleasant and personable man, whose company could well be enjoyable . . . in other circumstances. But she did not intend to be in Pont del Mar long enough to make friends.
*
It was dusk when the train reached Pont del Mar. Anna looked for her new friend as she disembarked, but he was not to be seen on the crowded platform. So she took a taxi to the Excelsior, where a uniformed doorman carried her bag into a sumptuous foyer.
‘Good evening, senorita,’ said the receptionist, regarding her somewhat sceptically. ‘You have a reservation?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘I see. Unfortunately, the hotel is full.’
‘Oh! You were recommended to me by Senor Guimard.’
He stiffened. ‘You were recommended by . . .’
‘Senor Carlos Guimard. He said you would know his name.’
‘Yes, senorita. Of course. Boy!’ He snapped his fingers, and a bellhop hurried over. ‘Number 7. If you would be so good as to sign the book, Senorita . . .?’
‘O’Rourke.’ Anna signed.
‘Senorita O’Rourke. It is a very great pleasure to have you staying with us, senorita. For how long would you like the room?’
‘I think about a week. Do I have to be definite?’
‘Oh, no, no, no. I will put you down for a week, with an option for longer if you wish.’
‘You’re very sweet. Do you require payment now?’
‘Oh good heavens, no, senorita. You pay when you are ready. Gerardo will take you up. The room is on the front, you understand. Overlooking the sea.’
‘That sounds delightful. There is just one more thing. Is there a telephone in the room?’
‘Of course.’
‘And do I make the call through you, here on the desk?’
‘Oh, no, no, senorita. All our room telephones can be connected direct to the exchange. Just press number nine. The call will be charged to your account. If you wish anything in the room, food, drink, laundry, anything, you will call here, that is number zero, and I will arrange it.’
‘That sounds incredibly civilized.’
‘Would you like me to book you a table for dinner?’
‘No. I have been travelling all day and am very tired. I’ll just have something in my room.’
‘Of course.’ He presented her with a menu. ‘May I recommend the tuna? It is caught off these very shores by our very own fishermen.’
‘You have a fishing fleet, here in Pont del Mar?’
‘Oh, yes, senorita. Before the area began to be developed as a tourist centre, fishing was the main industry. It is still important. The fleet goes out three times a week.’
Manna from heaven. ‘Then of course I will have the tuna.’ She scanned the drinks list ‘And a bottle of Pouilly Fuissé.’
‘A bottle, senorita?’
‘I wish to sleep well.’
‘Of course. And when would you like this served? Nine o’clock? Ten o’clock?’
‘Senor, I said that I wish to sleep well, and long.’ She glanced at her watch; it was six thirty. ‘Half past seven.’
‘Half past seven,’ he remarked, incredulously.
‘Thank you.’ She gave him a bright smile and followed Gerardo to the lift.
The room was palatial, and although it was now too dark to see anything from the balcony, and too chilly to stay out there for more than a few minutes, it clearly had spectacular views. Anna wondered just how much it was setting her back, but she only intended to spend a couple of days here, nor, as she would be leaving in a hurry, would she be paying the bill.
She made sure the door was locked, then sat at the desk and picked up the phone, dialling the number, which was repeated at the other end a few minutes later. ‘Mr Lustrum?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ was the cautious reply.
‘Anna O’Rourke.’
There was a moment’s silence. ‘I did not expect you until next week.’
‘So I’m early. Does it matter? When can we meet?’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘I’m at the Excelsior.’
‘The Excelsior? That’s a very exclusive hotel.’
‘So I gather. It was recommended to me by someone I met on the train. A Senor Guimard. Would you know the name? Everyone else seems to.’
Another brief silence. ‘Did you say Guimard?’
‘That’s what I said, yes. Do you know the name? He seems to carry an awful amount of clout.’
‘Is his first name Carlos?’
‘That’s right. Carlos.’
‘Captain Carlos Guimard is Pont del Mar’s chief of police.’
*
It was Anna’s turn to be silent.
‘Miss O’Rourke?’ Lustrum asked. ‘Are you all right?’
Anna’s brain was racing, but she said, ‘Yes, I’m all right. My meeting him had to be sheer coincidence. He was absolutely charming.’
‘He is always charming,’ Lustrum said. ‘Even when he is pulling out your toenails.’
Anna swallowed. ‘It was a coincidence,’ she insisted. ‘You haven’t said where we can meet.’
‘You mean you are going to remain here? Despite . . .’
‘A coincidence? Really, Mr Lustrum, I have not come all this way just to turn round and go home again.’
‘I cannot be involved in this.’
‘Mr Lustrum, all I need from you is five minutes of your time, to put me in the picture. I was told you would provide this. If you are not prepared to do so at this late stage, I cannot answer for the attitude of my, and your, superiors in London, to whom I shall have to make a full report.’
Another silence. ‘If you will walk along the waterfront tomorrow morning, just beyond the fishing dock you will come across a bar coffee shop named The Matador; we will meet there, by accident, at ten o’clock.’
‘Excellent.’ She had intended to walk along the front tomorrow in any event.
‘How will I know you?’
‘Why, Mr Lustrum, I shall be the most attractive woman there.’
She hung up, and a few minutes later her supper arrived. She ate, and drank, slowly and thoughtfully. But meeting Guimard had to have been purely coincidental. She had realized from the start that he was a very confident man, without deducing any real reason for the confidence. Now she had the reason, which made it entirely reasonable for him to chat up an attractive woman. But there was no possible reason for a local police chief to suspect anything sinister about an itinerant tourist.
At the same time, the pulling out of toenails bit was no help to her digestion. If she was no stranger to difficult situations, she could not forget that the only time she had had to take on a local police force on their own ground and without a back-up had been when she had been confronted by the NKVD in Moscow in 1941, and then she had wound up in the Lubianka having jets of ice cold water hurled at her naked body. She, or her corpse, would be still hanging in that never to be forgotten torture chamber but for the amazing intervention of Joe Andrews.
But such negative thinking, or allowing her brooding concern as to how a photograph of her taken by a Russian in Red Square nine years ago had got into the hands of an Am
erican female killer to occupy any of her thoughts right now, would be highly dangerous. Depending on what Lustrum had to tell her, and what the harbour could produce, she could be out of Argentina in forty-eight hours, job done.
*
She slept soundly, and was awake early, to the sound of church bells. Just a week ago she had encountered Lorna Strezzi! She bathed, breakfasted in her room, put on slacks and a shirt, and went for a walk, her bag slung on her shoulder; today she was not wearing her pistol, but it was within easy reach. From her bedroom window she did indeed overlook the beach and the sea; the beach was long and luxuriant, and reminded her of Copacabana, although not on the same scale. But the first thing that struck her as she left the hotel was that the entire town appeared to be a vast building site. Cranes rose in every direction, towering over half completed edifices which were undoubtedly going to be blocks of flats, hotels and restaurants, but on a Sunday the only sound was the pealing of the bells.
In contrast the docks, reached by crossing the very elaborate foot bridge that apparently gave the place its name – the railway line and highway were about half a mile inland, where the sea inlet dwindled to nothing – seemed a relic of a bygone age, although to her surprise they were busy. The fishing boats had apparently only just returned, and were unloading their catches on to a quay crowded with eager recipients, from both food stores and restaurants, anxious for the fish to be taken to the depot for auction.
Anna watched them for some time, studying the boats and their hard-working crews. The boats were reassuringly large, far bigger than any of the Nassau smacks, with sizeable cabins, suggesting that they were intended to keep the sea for more than a few hours. On the debit side, each had a crew of three, but she did not regard that as an insuperable obstacle.
This morning she had left her hair loose; it floated about her in the brisk on-shore wind. Thus, as she had anticipated, she attracted attention, and it was not long before one of the buyers stood beside her. ‘Good morning, senorita. You are well?’
‘Very well, thank you. And you?’
‘Oh, very well. You like the fish, eh?’
‘I like the boats.’
‘Ah. You know boats?’
‘No, I don’t. But they fascinate me. Do you think I could meet one of the skippers? That one.’ She pointed. After a couple of days at sea all the crews were unshaven, unwashed, and untidy, but the one she had selected at least looked reasonably young and good-humoured; she felt that, properly groomed, he could even be handsome.
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