She wore her red dress, but as she still could not conceive that Guimard had any plans other than to get his hand into her knickers, left her pistol in her shoulder bag, along with her gun belt. Equally, however, as she was about to leave the hotel for the last time, she packed her pants and shirt and wedges and bandanna also in her shoulder bag, along with her spare magazines, her money and her passports, but wore all of her jewellery. As usual, the rest of her clothes would have to be abandoned. There was just one thing left to do. She sat at the table, used a sheet of the hotel stationery, and wrote rapidly, using a large and very clear hand, then folded the paper and placed it also in her shoulder bag.
Satisfied, she brushed her hair but left it loose, not bothering with a hat. Then she sat down and waited, as usual keeping her mind deliberately blank; from here on she had to take every moment as it came.
At five to one her phone rang. ‘Senorita O’Rourke, there is a car here for you.’
‘Thank you. I’ll be right down.’ She got up, put on her coat, pulled on her gloves, and surveyed herself in the mirror. She looked good enough to eat; she could only hope that was not what the captain had in mind.
A uniformed policeman was waiting for her, and the hotel staff were clearly intrigued. He saluted and escorted her to a police car. She sat in the back, and watched the blocks and the building sites rolling by; gradually thinning in number; with every second she was being taken farther away from both the docks and Edel’s apartment.
She leaned forward. ‘May I ask, senor, where you’re taking me?’
‘To the captain’s villa, senorita.’
Oh, good lord, she thought. If this was some kind of luncheon party . . . ‘And the villa is in the country?’
‘No, no, senorita. It is just outside of town. We will soon be there.’
Soon being a relative word. Anna reckoned they were at least five miles from the front when the car pulled into a concrete drive, the gate of which was roofed. ‘We are here.’
She was not surprised to see that it was a luxurious house, and very obviously newly built, fronted by a veranda on the lower floor and a balcony above it, this outside, she guessed, the master bedroom; as the building was situated on a slight rise, she also guessed that the upper floor had a view of the sea beyond the town.
The gate was opened for them by another uniformed policeman, and the car drew up on the paved patio outside the front steps. Guimard was waiting – he had changed into casual civilian dress – and came down the steps to take her hands as she got out of the car. ‘Senorita, you have the amazing facility of being able to appear a completely different woman every time I see you.’
‘You say the sweetest things. But is that not what every woman seeks to achieve?’
‘Do you know, I have never considered the matter from that point of view.’ He gestured at the steps. ‘My home is eager to welcome you.’
‘Thank you. Does this car wait for me?’
‘No, no. He cannot wait there indefinitely. I will call for a car when you are ready to leave.’
‘Ah.’ She allowed herself to be escorted up the steps and into a large lounge, with open windows to allow the drapes to rustle as the wind drifted through. Anna took off her gloves and her coat and Guimard laid them on a chair, then went to an elaborate sideboard. ‘You’ll take a glass of champagne?’
‘Thank you.’ Anna sat on a settee, crossing her knees and placing her shoulder bag beside her. ‘What a lovely house.’
He gave her a glass and sat beside her. ‘I will show you the rest of it later.’
‘That would be very nice. But you say you have no wife, and you must be a very busy man. Who looks after it for you?’
‘I have a housekeeper, and various servants. But I have given them the afternoon off. I was afraid that their presence might embarrass you. But do you know, I am beginning to doubt that anything would embarrass you.’
‘I try not to be. But do you mean that we are entirely alone?’
‘I wished to enjoy you all to myself. Does this alarm you?’
‘I don’t see how I can be alarmed in the presence of the chief of police.’
‘Touché. You said you like to eat at one, and it is half past. Would you like to eat now? The meal is all ready.’
‘If it will not inconvenience you.’
‘Not at all. Suddenly I am also impatient to eat.’ He escorted her through an arched doorway into the dining room, where a large table was set with two places, the cutlery being silver, as she saw at a glance. The sideboard was a mass of hot plates, all of which emitted delicious smells. ‘What would you like?’
‘I think you will have to serve me,’ Anna suggested. ‘I have no idea what any of them are.’
‘It will be a pleasure, and I will explain them to you.’ Which he did as he ladled helpings on to her plate. But Anna wasn’t really listening. Her instincts, born of long experience, were warning her that all was not as it seemed. She had not doubted for a moment that he intended to make a pass at her, and that it was going to be a serious pass had been revealed by the way he had carefully emptied his house of servants. She had been quite prepared to cope with this as she had planned; her sole objective was to be away from here by four o’clock, although this far out of town that would be cutting it very fine. But now she had become aware of something more. She had put him down from the moment of their first meeting as a very confident man; that had been explained by learning he was the chief of police. But she had been courted by many confident men, from Hitler and Stalin down, and they had all, certainly in their initial encounters, been as much in awe of her beauty as she of their power. This man, while saying all the right things, regarded her as already his.
The food was certainly delicious, and the wine, a red she did not recognize, very drinkable. He made small talk throughout the meal, inquiring where she intended to go after she left Pont del Mar. She suggested that she might travel further south, and have a look at Mar del Plata, but he did not seem to be terribly interested, and as soon as they had finished their dessert, some kind of unusual fruit, announced, ‘Now I would like to show of the rest of my house.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I was hoping that we might have a cup of your delicious coffee.’
‘I think the coffee can wait. It is always better after one has digested for a while.’ He pushed back his chair and got up.
Anna obediently also rose, slinging her shoulder bag.
‘Do you carry that bag everywhere?’ he asked.
‘It has become a habit, I suppose.’
‘Or is it that you carry around all your wealth with you?’
‘Not all of it,’ Anna admitted modestly.
He indicated the stairs in the hall outside the dining room and she went up. ‘On the left,’ he suggested.
She entered a large bedroom. As she had supposed, it was the one with the balcony, and there was a view of the sea. She went through the open french doors. As she had suspected might be the case, Guimard might have dismissed his servants, but the armed policeman remained, seated in the shade of the roof over the gate. ‘What a superb view.’
‘It is good, isn’t it? Let’s close these.’
‘Must we? The breeze is delicious.’
‘It will soon turn chilly. And you see –’ he closed the doors – ‘they are double glazed. So that no noise can get in. And equally, no noise can get out.’
‘You believe in being cosy.’
‘A bedroom should always be cosy. Will you put down that absurd bag?’
Anna laid the bag on the table.
‘Thank you.’ He sat in an armchair, leaned back. ‘Now, will you take off your dress? In fact, take off everything.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I wish you to undress.’
This was definitely not merely a pass; it was a command. She abandoned her original feminine plan; she needed to find out what had inspired his change of attitude. ‘I think you have the wrong idea, Captain. I am not a who
re.’
‘I never thought you were, Miss O’Rourke. But you see, I would like to ask you some questions, and I have learned, over the years, that people under interrogation are more likely to tell the truth when they are naked. Being nude robs people of complacency, and indeed, confidence.’
‘You have clearly studied the matter. But shouldn’t all this be happening in your office, or torture chamber, or wherever?’
‘If your answers to my questions are not satisfactory, I will certainly take you to my office.’ He smiled. ‘To my torture chamber. But I thought, as you are clearly a refined young lady, that you would prefer to have a preliminary chat here in private. In my torture chamber, there will be other people present, you see, and you might find that embarrassing. Whereas, if you answer my questions sufficiently honestly to convince me of your innocence, you will suffer no inconvenience or embarrassment at all, save that of revealing your undoubted charms to me.’
‘Innocence? Am I accused of some crime?’
‘Whether you are accused or not depends on your answers to this preliminary examination.’
‘But you do admit to having, and using, a torture chamber? Where you pull out people’s toenails.’
Another smile. ‘I do not admit to anything. I do not have to. I am charged with keeping the peace and eliminating crime. My methods are my own business, as long as I get the right results. As for pulling out people’s toenails, that is terribly medieval, and of course, it leaves the evidence of what has been done to them. We are much more sophisticated. We use electricity. That produces instant results, and leaves no trace whatsoever. On the flesh.’
She understood that he was serious, and that he did indeed have a reason for suspecting her of . . . what? Thus he simply had to be challenged, in order to find out what he had learned of her, and from whom. And if that involved . . . a chief of police! But she was rapidly developing an intense dislike for him. She smiled at him. ‘You mean you attach electrodes to various parts of your victim’s body, preferably somewhere sensitive and attractive to you, and switch on the current.’
‘I see you have read about it. That is about right. And I’m sure you understand that the idea of pushing an electrode up your ass is extremely attractive.’
‘I do understand that, captain,’ Anna said. ‘I have experienced it.’
*
The humour left Guimard’s face, and he sat straight. ‘You have been tortured?’
Almost Anna thought he had bitten off the word, already. ‘It was applied by a man called Reinhard Heydrich, You may have heard of him. And you are quite right in claiming that it leaves no marks.’
He stared at her. ‘You were a prisoner of the Gestapo? You?’
‘Well, no. Actually, I was employed by them. Or more accurately, the SS.’
He relaxed, slightly. ‘You are lying. The SS did not employ women.’
‘I see you have studied that matter as well. And again you are quite correct. But the SD did. Employ women, I mean.’
‘You were SD? In what capacity?’
‘I killed people,’ Anna explained, and picked up her bag, at the same time opening it to draw her Walther. ‘I still do. Although not for the SD, of course.’
He stared at the gun, then at her face. ‘You admit this? To me? I am the chief of police.’
‘Except for a few very close friends,’ Anna pointed out, ‘the people I admit this to never hang around long enough to give evidence against me. Now tell me how you got interested in me in the first place.’
‘You think I am afraid of you? I am Captain Carlos Guimard. Mention my name to anyone in this country and they start to shake.’
‘Is that why they have stuck you in a backwater like this? Come along, captain, I haven’t got all afternoon.’
He snorted. ‘You can’t frighten me. Working for the SD! Ha! Do you actually know how to fire that thing?’
‘Captain.’ Anna levelled the pistol. ‘Hold up your right hand.’
‘What?’ But he obeyed her.
‘Now extend the forefinger.’
Again he obeyed, mystified.
Anna fired. Guimard uttered a scream and fell out of the chair, turning on to his hands and knees; the bullet embedded itself in the wall. Anna moved to the window, and looked down; the sentry continued to sit, reading his newspaper. ‘You are absolutely correct,’ she said, ‘This double glazing does keep the sound in.’
Guimard was hugging his hand, which was dripping blood. ‘You shot away my finger. I am bleeding to death.’
Anna stood above him. ‘I have a strong feeling that you are not going to do that. Bleed to death, I mean. Tell me why you wish to investigate me.’
‘You must help me,’ he moaned. ‘I am in pain. I am bleeding.’
‘I will help you, I give you my word. When you have answered my question.’
‘Lustrum,’ he muttered.
‘What? You have arrested him?’ Then she was in deeper trouble than she had feared.
‘Not yet,’ he groaned. ‘But you telephoned him, the night you arrived.’
‘And the hotel phone was tapped?’
‘No, no,’ he groaned. ‘It is Lustrum’s phone that is bugged.’
‘Why? Is he a crook?’
‘He is a very shady character. We have been keeping an eye on him for some time. He has links to organized crime, but he also has links to the British Embassy in Buenos Aires. Senorita, you must help me. I am bleeding. Senorita . . .’
‘In a moment. What are these links to the British Embassy?’
‘We do not know. But he goes there from time to time. There is no reason for him to do this if he is not receiving instruction or giving information.’
‘But you have never actually arrested him.’
‘Well no, he is a British citizen, and we have no proof of any actual wrongdoing. Senorita . . .’
‘I am an Irish citizen. And I have broken no laws here in Argentina. Yet you arrested me.’
‘Well—’
‘Can that be because, unlike Lustrum, I am an attractive woman, and as you said, you felt it might be interesting to shove an electrode up my ass?’
‘Senorita . . . you said you will help me.’
‘To stop bleeding,’ Anna agreed. ‘I will do that, permanently.’ She shot him through the head.
*
What a mess, she thought. But if the police were intent on interrogating her, and probably Lustrum, she did not see that she had had any alternative. And Lustrum, as the man she had contacted immediately on getting there, was up to his ears in any event. But he would have to sink or swim on his own, and if he revealed that he was working for MI6, and so was she, that was between him and his employers – who should have vetted him more carefully in the first place; she could not possibly be held responsible for their catastrophic choice of a local agent. Her business was to complete her assignment and get out. It was half past two, and she did not reckon she had any time to waste. If Guimard had given instructions that he was not to be disturbed until he called for a car, she was safe until then, and he had suggested that he had looked forward to spending the whole evening with her, so no one would be alarmed if he did not call for several hours. But she was still five miles outside of the town, without transport, and she had to be on the dock by a quarter to six at the latest, after visiting Edel!
She took off her dress and high-heeled shoes as well as her jewellery, packed them away in her shoulder bag, and put on her slacks and shirt and soft shoes, tying her hair in the bandanna. Then she surveyed Guimard. She felt he was definitely not armed. But his uniform hung on a hanger behind the door, his belts suspended beside it. And there was a holster!
She unclipped it, and gazed at a Luger! A weapon that had seen her through countless lethal situations; it had twice the range and stopping power of the Walther. She drew it and checked the magazine; it was fully loaded with a dozen nine-millimetre cartridges. She put it in her bag, moved back to the window.
The sentr
y was still there. She did not suppose he would stop her leaving, but once she did that, there would be no reason for him not, as time went by, to look in to see if his boss needed his assistance; she did not know how much time he would allow to elapse before wondering why there was no sound or movement from within the house. Nor could she just shoot him, as he was almost certainly going to be relieved at some time this afternoon, and she did not know when that was due to happen.
She surveyed the area. The nearest house was about a quarter of a mile away, and was also a prosperous-looking villa, as were all the other houses she could see beyond. This was clearly an upmarket neighbourhood. It was also siesta time, and there was no immediate sign of any activity, but as she watched a car went by . . . and then a bus, heading for town.
She went into the hall, and to the other bedroom, this at the rear of the house, overlooking a rather scrubby lawn enclosed by a high wall. She studied it, reckoned it was about six feet tall, which was not insurmountable, providing . . . she continued to gaze at it for some moments, but could see no sign of any broken glass along the top. And why indeed should a much-feared chief of police need to protect his property with broken glass?
Beyond there was an open area in which she could see no sign of life at this moment, although there was a house in the process of construction a few hundred yards to the right. As there was no activity there either she assumed the workmen were also en siesta. Anyway, it was her only exit.
She returned to the bedroom, slung her bag, as always looked around herself to make sure there was no evidence of her presence – not that it mattered on this occasion as the sentry knew she had been here – then went down the stairs and into the lounge, watching the front door as she retrieved her gloves and coat. But the sentry was definitely somnolent.
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