Traitor's Doom

by John Creasey

  ‘I hope not,’ said Don Salvos. He shrugged, and sent Stefan a long, appraising glance. ‘Then, señor, you told me about the Guarda Nationale, and asked me if I felt able to take sides against it. I told you then as I shall tell you again, I do not feel that I can take any further part in the politics of my country. If I can help it in any other way, then it shall be done.’

  I don’t know much about politics,’ said Palfrey carefully.

  The Catanese smiled.

  ‘We are going to talk obliquely, señor. Perhaps it is as well. I was, of course, perturbed by what you have told me and what I knew was happening, but I believe the handling of my country can be safely left in the hands of those in authority, and I was not so worried by that as I was by the discovery that you, Señor Palfrey, and some of your friends, were wanted by the police because you were suspected of activities against the State.’

  He paused deliberately, and none of the others moved or spoke. Drusilla was looking towards Palfrey, her smile gone but her features quite composed. She was wearing the suit in which she had travelled from the frontier, but the tear on the shoulder was mended.

  ‘I asked myself,’ said Don Salvos, ‘Whether it was not possible that the Guarda Nationale, knowing that your sympathies were not with them, had lodged information of a false nature with the authorities, to give rise to the suspicions about you. I came to the conclusion, also, that the Guarda might even provide false evidence which would convict you. I remember that you have saved my life, but if I deplore that you showed an interest in our politics at least I know that I can repay something of the debt I owe you by helping you to escape from Orlanto.’

  He said ‘Orlanto’ deliberately and slowly, although Palfrey had expected him to say ‘Catania’. He had the full attention of his hearers now, and Drusilla was staring towards him with a hint of expectancy in her manner.

  ‘So,’ continued Don Salvos, ‘I made sure that none of the police came into my house, or in the vicinity of the immediate gardens. You see, I expected you, and I knew you must not be seen coming here, or going away from here.’

  ‘It is difficult for me to say thank you,’ murmured Palfrey.

  ‘It is I who am saying thank you, señor.’ Don Salvos paused, and then looked at Drusilla. ‘I was careful not to be told the names of your friends, señor, but I was not really surprised when Señorita Blair came to see me, and said that she would like to wait here in case you came. So of course I extended her my warmest hospitality.’

  The other’s voice was very low, but there was an increase of tension in the room. To Palfrey the words brought a sense of disappointment no less acute because he had been preparing himself for it. Don Salvos had made it clear enough that he knew for whom Palfrey and the others were working, but that he refused to admit his knowledge. Only by pretending to be ignorant would he offer help – the negative help of doing nothing to impede their escape.

  Palfrey opened his lips, then forced back what he was going to say.

  It was difficult to understand the other’s attitude, yet a gleam of the truth was beginning to seep into his mind – or so Palfrey thought. It was a sickening realisation, and it left him temporarily wordless.

  Don Salvos was sympathetic towards the Guarda, but would not yet openly declare himself. Either that, or he believed the strength of the movement was too great for him to oppose. He was adopting his attitude because he considered it necessary to repay a debt of gratitude, and he could do it in no other way.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Palfrey stiffly. ‘Everything I had heard of you suggested that you had the interests of the country at heart beyond everything else.’

  Words were racing through his mind, and he wanted to let them pour out, to try to change the old man’s attitude with an outburst of oratory.

  ‘I hope that you will not allow this to affect our friendship, señor,’ said Don Salvos softly.

  Palfrey said: ‘I shall always remember it, Don Salvos. But I’m not likely to forget that I know a man, a great and good man, who could have ensured the safety and the prosperity of his country for decades to come but allowed himself to let the opportunity pass by.’

  Drusilla gasped audibly.

  Stefan put a hand towards Palfrey, then drew it back slowly.

  Don Salvos continued to look into the Englishman’s eyes, his own eyes showing more expression than they had done throughout the interview. Palfrey wondered with a sinking apprehension whether he had been wise to go as far as he had. He had not really weighed the issue; and the issue was life or death, captivity or freedom; only then did he fully realise that Don Salvos could ensure one or the other.

  Slowly the Catanese said: ‘That grieves me, Señor Palfrey.’

  Palfrey said abruptly: ‘It will grieve you more in the future, Don Salvos—it will always be on your conscience.’ With the words he cast the die, knowing that it would be impossible to leave without making it clear to Don Salvos what he was feeling – brutally clear if necessary.

  The old man retorted, ‘Señor Palfrey, I shall not alter my decision, and I must urge upon you the need for leaving here quickly. Already you have stayed longer than is wise.’ The double meaning of the last sentence was obvious, and Palfrey’s lips tightened. I hoped that we should part on good terms, and I still hope that,’ continued Don Salvos.

  Palfrey drew a deep breath.

  There was a complete silence for more than five seconds, before he began to speak. His voice was very low, and at first his words were hesitant and uncertain, but they gathered coherence as he went on, and although the tone of his voice strengthened it did not rise.

  ‘We shall part,’ he said. ‘And I shall go into the fields and the villages, Don Salvos. I shall see the people, hungry. Your people. The Guarda Nationale is an organisation of terrorists. When I hear that the Nazis and the Fascists are entering the country, that their aeroplanes and their guns are pounding the life out of any of your people who resist the revolution—and some will resist, they will not allow it to happen without resistance—I shall think of a man whose life I came to save because it was considered of great importance to his country. I shall think of that, and shall know that he preferred to lie here and to do nothing. It will not be a pleasant thought, Don Salvos, for I shall wonder if I did right to come.’ He stopped abruptly.

  So deep was the quiet that there was hardly a sound of any breathing, and there was no movement. The old man stared into Palfrey’s eyes, his own bright and almost feverish, spots of colour on either cheek. Then Palfrey said: ‘What are the names of the leaders of the Guarda Nationale, Don Salvos? What are the names of the Members of the Cores who are secretly sympathetic to it? Who are the members of the police and other authorities who will support it? Who are the Army and Navy officers who will go with the revolutionaries? If you cannot do anything yourself you can name them and let others try.’ There was another silence.

  Then the old man stirred, and at last he began to speak in a low, spiritless voice:

  I did not think I should live to hear such words, señor. All my life has belonged to Catania. Lately, I have come to the conclusion that I can do nothing, the movement of the Guarda is too powerful. And it will have the support of the majority of the people, remember that.’

  The majority!’ exclaimed Palfrey hotly. ‘The people who are hungry and who believe they will be fed? Have you really blinded yourself to the truth? Or are you believing these things because you want to believe them? Who are the leaders, Don Salvos? You can name them, and if they are named they might be stopped.’

  Don Salvos kept his eyes closed.

  Palfrey thought that he had said all that he was going to say.

  He felt a deep dejection, a sense of failure and deflation, and he stood without speaking.

  Then in a whispering voice Don Salvos said: ‘At Torvil. Most of them are in the casino, or li
ving near it. I will think on your words, señor. I have fought to keep aside from these issues, but …’ He paused, and then opened his eyes, and they seemed filled with a sadness which was incalculable. ‘I realised quite early, my friend, who you had brought to me. José Fonesca, of course. I took a great risk in allowing him to stay, for if it were known that he was here I would be considered on the side of the Social Patriots, and I am on no side. But I owed you so much, and so he stayed. You must get him away tonight, he is no longer safe here. My friendship with you will bring the authorities with more insistent demands, and perhaps the Guarda. Once before you warned me that I might be in personal danger, but despite that I allowed him to stay.’

  Palfrey said quietly: ‘You knew that no man in this country should be hunted and without a place of safety, Don Salvos. We will take him with us, now. And—’ His quick, diffident smile showed, and Don Salvos eyed him quite steadily. ‘It is my turn to wonder whether I should have adopted an attitude, Don Salvos, but I think I should, and I remind you—you can save Catania, if you will.’

  He turned abruptly, and opened the door.

  Drusilla turned with him. Stefan stood looking down at the old man, smiling a little. Palfrey and Drusilla watched him from the door, seeing him stretch down a hand and rest it lightly on Don Salvos’ shoulder.

  ‘It has been my privilege to meet many great men,’ said Stefan softly. ‘I have met another tonight, Don Salvos.’

  Then he turned also, and joined the others by the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A Journey with José Fonesca

  The landing was empty.

  A light glowed along the passage which Palfrey knew led to Fonesca’s room. There was silence in the house, as if every part of it was in accord with the bedroom they had just left. They stood still for some seconds, and then Palfrey took out a handkerchief and dabbed the back of his neck.

  ‘José next, I think,’ he said. His voice was flat.

  The trio went into Fonesca’s room.

  It was approached by a small ante-room, the door of which was standing open. The room itself was not as large as that they had left, but it was large enough and airy, and comfortably furnished.

  Fonesca smiled, thin-lipped.

  ‘I am warned of trouble, señor.’ He looked from Palfrey to Drusilla, and leaned forward in a bow. ‘Greetings, señorita.’ To Stefan he bowed also. ‘And you, señor.’

  ‘Hallo,’ said Palfrey, and smiled. Diffidence dropped from him. ‘Trouble needn’t be met half-way, Señor José. We can dispense with some of the trappings now—all of us know who you are.’

  Fonesca raised his eyebrows, no more than that. The darkness of his brows was in strange contrast to his white hair.

  ‘That is so?’

  ‘We won’t go into details,’ said Palfrey. ‘Don Salvos also knows who you are, and advises us to get you away from here quickly. We can’t go out of the front door, but some of your people are in the grounds and we have at least an even chance.’

  ‘I am delighted,’ said Fonesca ironically. ‘The chances have not been even for me for a long time, señor. But will you be good enough to tell me where you are taking me?’

  ‘To Vicosa,’ said Palfrey.

  The other frowned. ‘Vicosa?’

  ‘On the suggestion of Vasca and Hermandes Bombarda,’ said Palfrey, and half-turned towards Drusilla. ‘Will you wait in the ante-room, Drusilla? Thanks.’ He watched the door close as Stefan lifted some underclothes from a pile on a chair near the bed. He smiled at Fonesca. ‘We are doing all we can to help you and the Bombardas, José.’ The ‘José’ came quite naturally, and evoked no surprise. ‘The police and the Guarda are looking for us as anxiously as they are for you, and we want to travel by night. Also,’ he added quietly, ‘we want to get on to Torvil.’

  Fonesca snapped: ‘That den of infamy! Of wastrel fools? Of pariahs living on the good things of the earth while the people starve? That—’

  ‘Easy, now,’ said Palfrey, helping the sick man to dress, and smiling good-humouredly. ‘I’ve just talked that way to Don Salvos, and I’m told that the Guarda Nationale has its headquarters at Torvil.’

  ‘A Dios!’ ejaculated Fonesca. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘We can make sure,’ said Palfrey. ‘Now stand up, and see how it goes.’

  With Stefan’s help Fonesca rose unsteadily to his feet. He took several shaky steps forward and then stood still, grimacing. Palfrey took his other hand, and between them they led him across the room and back. He sat down again, and breathed heavily, the colour quite gone from his cheeks.

  ‘I can carry him,’ said Stefan.

  ‘Indeed you will not!’ snapped Fonesca. He stood up again, but swayed to one side and would have fallen but for Palfrey’s support. He regarded Stefan with dark humour. ‘But perhaps you will,’ he added, and shrugged resignedly.

  With the invalid between them, Stefan and Palfrey walked into the ante-room.

  Palfrey turned to Stefan.

  ‘Better carry him down the stairs,’ he said.

  ‘What am I, a child?’ demanded Fonesca in a fierce undertone.

  Palfrey opened the door after the light had been switched off, and called out softly: ‘Are you there?’

  Drusilla joined him.

  ‘I’d better talk, Sap,’ she said.

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘One day I’ll learn Catanese. Then I’ll really have all the qualifications.’ He stopped as a shadowy figure approached, and the starlight was enough for him to recognise the armed man who had first greeted him in the grounds. Drusilla talked quickly and softly. The man answered, his voice soft and musical, but there was a new note in it, and when she had finished he exclaimed: ‘José Fonesca, the good God be thanked!’

  Palfrey stood away from the door while Fonesca came out with Stefan. He saw the guide go forward and touch Fonesca’s hand, raising it to his lips. In that moment he understood more of the power which Fonesca had over his supporters, realising that he was regarded with a respect amounting to reverence.

  It was a strange realisation.

  They were taking a man from the home of Don Salvos, a man who might be able to stir the country to a counter revolution against the Guarda, a political influence probably as great as any other individual in the country. It was easy to understand that Fonesca could gain adherents who would give their lives for him. There was a strange, almost hypnotic fascination about the man, a power which emanated from him, which made itself felt even on those who were unaffected by his politics, untinged by partisanship.

  Palfrey found himself contrasting this man with Don Salvos.

  Don Salvos was the patriarch, the gentle savant, the leader who would lead by soft words and honeyed phrases, whose even temper could turn away wrath, whose good deeds had built for him a pedestal from which only an earthquake would make him fall. Calmness and kindliness were part of him – that, and a lack of decision, the unwillingness of an old man to make personal sacrifices. He wanted to do what he could for the masses and even loved them; and yet he shrank from taking an active part on their behalf.

  Palfrey felt that he was being carried along on an avalanche of party and political strife, as if he had done something to release the brakes, but that now the movement was in real motion he could do nothing to stop it. He was not cheered even by the presence of Drusilla, who walked close by him.

  The guides, four of them now, led the way.

  Stefan carried Fonesca fireman-fashion, and walked with long, easy strides. Drusilla stood between him and Palfrey, and he could see the pale blur of her face in the darkness. She broke the silence, and also the spell of depression which possessed him, by asking: ‘Is there a car near?’

  ‘Not unless they know of one,’ said Palfrey. ‘How far is Allegro from here?’

  ‘Abo
ut six miles.’

  ‘We can get a car there.’

  One of the guides turned, and said in Catanese: ‘Wait here, please.’

  ‘Why are we waiting?’ Fonesca asked of the guides.

  ‘Until the police pass by, Señor José.’

  As his words faded the little party heard the approach of several men, their footsteps loud and clear. Palfrey wondered what time it was, knowing that it must be past midnight, and perhaps as late as two o’clock.

  A greater hush fell upon the group.

  The footsteps drew nearer, and they heard voices. They waited in a sense almost of desperation, and then the police stopped outside the gate.

  After a pause footsteps sounded again and the patrol moved away.

  Lifting Fonesca again without difficulty, Stefan walked along the road, followed by Palfrey and Drusilla and the four guides. They had gone no more than fifty yards when the sound of an engine drew near, and the headlights of a car swayed up and down as the car turned a corner.

  ‘Look out!’ snapped Palfrey, sotto voce.

  ‘It is all right, señor.’ The voice of one of the guides sounded reassuring. ‘Our journey has been arranged by Señor Bombarda.’

  A second car turned the corner, closely followed by a third, and then by a fourth. All four cars came to a standstill, Fonesca was helped into the tonneau of the second.

  ‘Will you join him, Sap?’ Stefan asked.

  ‘Er—yes, I think I will,’ said Palfrey. ‘Thanks.’

  Drusilla touched his arm.

  He was very conscious of her nearness, and wished that he could see her better. He wanted to talk more freely with Fonesca, but wished also that he could travel with Drusilla, with whom he felt there would be no need to talk.

  ‘Sap,’ whispered Drusilla, ‘find out all you can about the Guarda leaders. They say Fonesca knows more of them than anyone else.’

  He felt the pressure of her hand on his. Then she withdrew it and stepped to the third car, more crowded than the second because of Stefan’s bulk. Palfrey looked after her for a moment, then followed Fonesca. Two of the guides sat in the seat in front of him, in addition to the driver, who let in the clutch after saying: ‘Vicosa, Señor José?’