Dennis Wheatley - Duke de Richleau 03

by The Golden Spaniard

  De Richleau promised that they would do everything in their power to save her from falling into the hands of the Reds and suggested that while they had a bath she should get down from her perch and dress herself in her most serviceable clothes. She was to knock on the bathroom door when she had done.

  Once the water was rushing into the bath Richard observed, “I’m not complaining, mark you, but I thought acts of chivalry were forbidden us.”

  “They are,” the Duke agreed. “But this young woman happens to be General de los Passos-Inclán’s daughter. She’d make a very valuable hostage as a prisoner of the Reds. We must keep her out of their clutches somehow if we can.”

  Richard laughed. “I thought you’d think up something rather than admit the real truth that short of its absolutely wrecking your own plans you’d do it anyhow.”

  De Richleau ignored the remark and went on quietly, “Her presence complicates matters a bit as I don’t intend that we should leave here yet. Old Jacinto and his lads can be trusted to carry on with the good work at the factory. We’re safe here, and comfortable, and I’d like to know a little more about which way the Revolution’s going to swing before we quit Madrid again. Besides, the moment we go our armistice with Simon ends and he knows we’re up to no good as far as his party is concerned, so he’s certain to have us followed. I’ve got to think up a way for us to get clear of this place without that happening. When we’ve had our bath we’ll both go back to bed.”

  Ten minutes after they had finished bathing Doña Favorita rapped on the door. Clad in their coats and trousers they went back to the bedroom and found her fully dressed. She had on a very becoming coat and skirt and an absurd hat under which her saucy little features made it easy to understand the violent injury which had befallen the lucky, or perhaps now unfortunate, Don Palacio Alverado’s heart.

  “I fear you’ll have to spend the rest of the day, and probably to-night as well, in the bathroom,” the Duke told her. “You see, we are in a rather unusual position ourselves and if we’re to help you it’s essential that you should do just as I say without question.”

  “Of course,” she agreed, but added a little sadly, “I’m terribly hungry.”

  “We’ll manage to get you something later in the afternoon, I hope. In the meantime try to be patient and if you hear anyone come to visit us be as quiet as a mouse.”

  Just as they had locked her into the bathroom the sound of cheering drew them to the window. Opposite, above the dusty, yellowed leaves of the trees, they could see the long upper story of the Prado Art Gallery which houses one of the finest collections of paintings in the world. Before it stood the statue of Valesquez, palette in hand. Nearer, and below, was the cause of the excitement: some bands of marching men.

  They made a brave sight in the bright afternoon sunshine. Socialists in royal-blue shirts and red ties, Communists in scarlet shirts and Anarchists in black and red. Many of the groups carried banners with slogans on them or huge crossed golden hammers and sickles on a red ground. As they marched they chanted in union, “Oo-archie-pay. Oo-archie-pay,” the initial letters U.H.P. of the Proletarian rallying cry.

  Farther along the street a barricade had been erected right across the broad avenue with a gap in it only wide enough to permit of a single lorry or column passing through it at a time. On it were perched a number of men in caps, berets and overalls. Some wore only trousers and a singlet as the heat was terrific; absolutely tropical and abnormal even for Madrid in the height of summer. Only a few of them were armed with rifles. A big crowd of women, children and older men were working like a swarm of ants tearing up the pavement to strengthen the barricade.

  For a time Richard and the Duke watched these activities, then, stripping off their outer clothes, they got into bed again.

  Simon arrived about an hour later. “Hallo!” he said, when Richard let him in. “Not up yet, eh? Thought you’d be famished and ready to go down for some sort of meal.”

  The Duke moaned slightly and turned over. “I’m afraid we’ve come off worse than you, Simon. Both of us had our backs to that red-hot furnace longer. I’m really not fit to get up and Richard’s little better.”

  Richard nodded. “We were wondering if you could fix it for us to stay here another night and get some food sent up to us so that we can lie quiet here without going through the agony of dressing.”

  “Of course,” Simon’s kind face expressed genuine concern. “Stay as long as you like. I’ve got plenty of pull with the Committee downstairs. About food, though, I’ve been down to the restaurant and although the kitchen’s running it’s mostly cold stuff that’s being served. People coming and going and helping themselves all the time. Will it do if I bring you up whatever I can get?”

  “Fine, old chap, fine,” Richard agreed, and Simon left them, to return twenty minutes later with a big dish of mixed cold meats, fruit, Vienna bread and a couple of bottles of Diamante wine.

  “Got to go out now,” he said, “but I’ll be back some time this evening and I’ll bring you up some supper. Very glad you’re not in a hurry to get off. Want to have a word with you before you do.”

  “How are things?” asked the Duke.

  “There was some street fighting this morning. It’s still on. If you listen you’ll hear occasional bursts of firing in the distance. We’re on top, though. Fanjol’s still lying doggo in the Montana Barracks but he can’t do us any harm now. So long.”

  When he had gone they shared their picnic meal with Doña Favorita, whom they found a delightful and amusing person at such times as her mind could be taken off the unfortunate Don Palacio, on whose account she gave way to occasional fits of passionate tears.

  It was five o’clock by the time they had finished, so they locked Doña Favorita in the bathroom and went to bed again, where they made up a few out of the many hours’ sleep they had lost since their arrival in Spain, but the sound of firing close by aroused them a little after eight.

  Jumping out of bed they ran to the window. The street below was now almost empty, but up by the barricade a fierce skirmish was taking place. Some Fascists appeared suddenly to have made an unexpected sortie from a near-by house. By the way people were falling hit near the barricade and scattering in all directions it looked as though a machine-gun was playing upon them from an upper window of the building. A dozen Blackshirts were visible making deadly play with their automatics.

  Crouching among the overturned cars and other lumber of the barricade the Reds put up a stout defence. Suddenly a lorry came clattering up bearing reinforcements for them. A score of properly armed Communists tumbled out and charged the Fascists who were driven back into their late hiding-place. Some of the Communists had their pockets stuffed with hand-grenades and began to throw them. There was a series of sharp detonations and the machine-gun ceased fire. Sporadic shooting followed, the reports coming more faintly, then silence. About thirty of the seriously wounded were collected and driven away in the lorry. Five Militiamen and three Blackshirts lay dead where they had fallen in the evening light.

  Simon did not return until nearly midnight. He brought another picnic meal and helped them eat it. Afterwards he said seriously:

  “Now I’ll tell you. I’m worried about you people. Don’t know what you’re up to and as long as you’re under this roof I’m not going to try to find out. It’s some anti-Government business, though, and if you’re caught at it in Madrid you’re very likely to get shot. Temper of the people isn’t too good and you can hardly blame them in view of this military conspiracy having been sprung on them.”

  “We won’t argue about that,” replied De Richleau. “What’s the situation at the moment?”

  “Cabinet sat all night. Señor Casares Quiroga resigned the Premiership at three o’clock in the morning, while we were drinking downstairs in the lounge. President Azaña has belied his previous reputation as the strong man of Spain. Instead of calling on Largo Caballero to form a Socialist Cabinet he asked Señor Martinez Bar
rio, the Speaker of the Cortes, to form one. Barrio’s Cabinet lasted just three hours. He refused to arm the Workers so he had to go. They had a reshuffle with most of the old lot back under Don José Giralt, who agreed to hand over the arsenals to the Trade Unions. In consequence the Government has committed a sort of painless hara-kiri. It’s still the legal Government, remember, but it is just doing what U.G.T. Headquarters tell it now. We feared it might pan out that way, but we don’t really mind as the U.G.T. Chiefs are responsible people and it doesn’t matter much if they restore order in the country from the Rostrum of the Cortes or their own H.Q. Point is, we’re masters in the capital and the Rebellion’s fizzling out.”

  “What’s happening in the rest of the country, though?” asked Richard.

  “Franco landed in the South with a handful of Moors but he’s up a gum-tree now because the Navy has proved loyal and they’ve closed the Straits. He can’t bring over any more of his troops and in a couple of days he’ll be out of ammunition. Mola’s had a temporary success in the North but in spite of the fact they’re Catholics the Basques have stood solid for the Government and a big force from Bilboa is being sent against him. Goded landed in Barcelona from the Balearics and is giving, a little trouble there but he doesn’t stand an earthly against the Anarchists and Catalan Esquerra. The biggest shot of all, General Sanjurjo, the chap the Insurgents pinned their hopes on, crashed near the frontier when flying from exile in Lisbon to some unknown destination. He was to have taken supreme command of the Rebels; instead he’s been burnt to death.”

  Simon paused after this, for him, unusually long statement and added jerkily, “You see, the whole show’s a washout. Don’t want you to go on risking your necks at some quixotic job which can’t cut any ice now even if you pull it off.”

  “Thanks, Simon.” De Richleau managed a tired smile. “Luckily our job is as good as done.”

  “Is it?” Simon sat up suddenly. “I’m so glad. Makes it much easier for me to try and persuade you to clear out. Honestly, it’s not going to be healthy for people with your views in Madrid these next few weeks. Why not go home?”

  The Duke appeared to consider the suggestion, then he said slowly, “There’s no real reason why we shouldn’t now, although seeing the unsettled state of the country I should have thought we’d be safer here than trying to reach the frontier.”

  “No, no! You’re wrong there. Madrid with its mobs is much more dangerous for you. Now I’ll tell you. If you’re going to stay I’ve no means of protecting you once you’ve left this hotel; but if you’ll agree to quit Madrid I’ll do my level best to see you get safely to the frontier or within walking distance of the nearest Rebel forces—where you’ll be among friends.”

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  “Have you put on the list of foreigners to be deported. Send you off under an armed guard that has special instructions to turn you loose if any body of Insurgents looks like preventing their reaching their destination with you.”

  “That’s nice of you,” murmured the Duke. “The trouble is, though, my incurable love of excitement. Having seen the beginning of this affair I’d like to see its end. So I don’t think I can accept your offer.”

  Simon’s eyes flickered swiftly from side to side. “Pity, that. I’d hoped you’d see reason because I more or less planned this little trip for you in my own mind when I woke up this morning. I suppose you realize there’s nothing to prevent my having you both arrested and sent off that way?”

  “Our armistice having been agreed in the street should surely end in the street.”

  “Of course, and I wouldn’t dream of infringing it. But what’s to stop me having you followed and pinched directly you’re round the corner?”

  “You don’t consider that would be taking an unfair advantage?”

  “Ner. You say yourself your job’s done, so I’m not trying to put one over on you. I only want to lessen the risk of your getting into trouble—as it’s pretty certain you will do if you stay in Madrid.”

  The Duke smiled. “You’ve forgotten one thing. Richard and I are armed. What’s to prevent us shooting down anyone who tries to arrest us?”

  “You’d hardly be fool enough to do that?”

  “Why? You know quite well that we’ve done it before and got away with it. In this case, of course, we might not be as lucky and if we were shot ourselves in the ensuing gun-fight that would be a sad end to your altruistic desires to shield us from harm. Don’t try it, my son. I take very grave exception to being arbitrarily arrested.”

  “Um,” Simon nodded. “I feared you might. That’s what’s been troubling me.”

  “However,” the Duke went on, “I’m open to bargain with you. I’ll trade my perhaps foolish but none-the-less strong desire to remain here against your kindly wish to see us safe out of it. I make no promise to quit Spain but I will allow your minions to escort us to any train you like leaving Madrid and they can see us off on it—at a price.”

  “What’s the price?” Simon asked tonelessly.

  “That you will allow two other people to accompany us and give them safe conducts to the frontier or as far as the Government writ runs in these uncertain times.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Don Palacio Alverado is one—if he’s still alive.”

  “And the other?”

  “Doña Favorita de los Passos-Inclán.”

  Simon rubbed his arched, bird-like nose thoughtfully. “Asking a bit much—isn’t it? A Catholic Deputy and a General’s wife?”

  “Daughter,” corrected the Duke.

  “So that’s why you wanted to remain on in Spain, eh? Now the Rebellion’s a flop you thought you’d try your hand at a Scarlet Pimpernel act?”

  “I have a great admiration for that character but I’m afraid you flatter me, Simon.”

  Simon grinned. “Lovely story, you know. ‘Great Adventurer fools Government. Succeeds in bringing Monarchist Deputy and beautiful daughter of Rebel General out of Spain with tame escort of Red Troops.’ Suppose you realize these people are both useful hostages?”

  “If, as you say, the Government’s already got the upper hand, hostages can be of little value. D’you happen to know if Don Palacio is still alive?”

  “Yes. Remember seeing his name this afternoon on a list of Deputies who had been arrested. They’re all in the Model Prison and safe enough there. But—er—don’t you think it’s a bit thick to ask me to try and get these people released as part of the price I must pay for trying to save you from your own pig-headed stupidity?”

  “I do. And therefore I’m not going to try and drive a bargain at all. Richard and I will leave Madrid unconditionally in the way we’ve already agreed but I’m going to appeal to you to arrange for these two young people to come with us if you can. They’re in love, Simon, and they’re in far graver danger than we are. Be a good chap and do some wire-pulling to get safe-conducts for them.”

  “You cunning old devil,” Simon grinned. “How can I refuse when you put it like that? I can’t promise anything but I’ll do my best.” They both laughed happily and lifted their glasses to each other on the deal.

  “Glad that’s fixed,” Simon went on. “I’ll get off to bed now. Must find out about trains in the morning. Traffic’s been paralysed for the last twenty-four hours but there’re bound to be some trains out to-morrow if only for supplies. You may have to travel goods, but I’ll see what can be done. Sleep well, both of you.”

  When he had gone they carried in what remained of their supper to Doña Favorita and told her the good news about her Don Palacio still being alive; also that they had some hope now of being able to get her and her lover either to the frontier or their friends. Afterwards they made quite a comfortable place for her to sleep by collecting the cushions, her fur coat and other gear from the bedroom and placing them with the eiderdown in the bath. Then they went back to bed.

  “I wonder where we shall find ourselves this time to-morrow,” Richard said th
oughtfully.

  “At Valmojado, I hope,” replied the Duke.

  “Aren’t you a bit optimistic? You did a neat job of work in jollying old Simon into getting our tame lovers out of it, but it looks to me as if it means our travelling to an unknown destination too.”

  “Not a bit of it. With everything all over the shop trains will only be crawling about the country for the next few days. It may mean a long cross-country walk; but having carried out our promise to Simon about getting on the train quietly I’ll bet you a tenner we’re off it before it’s five miles from Madrid.”

  “So that’s the game! But what about the other two?”

  “We leave them to travel on with their guard and safe conducts. It’ll be nice if we’re able to see them on their way to safety but the really important thing is that we make a perfect get-out ourselves from this hotel. Simon will believe we’re out of the game which, apart from his quite genuine feeling for us, is what he’s largely after; while all the time we’ll still be very much in it and free to go about our own business without any risk of his tracking us down.”

  As they turned over to go to sleep they were both thinking with satisfaction of the neat little plot which was to outwit their good friend Simon Aron. They had, however, failed to reckon with one important factor which caused events to take a very different course from that which they expected.

  They were woken in the morning by a dull intermittent thudding. De Richleau, wide awake at once, sat up.

  “Guns,” he said. “That’s artillery at work in the distance.”

  Richard yawned. “Simon was wrong then, about the Reds having control of Madrid.”

  “Evidently. It must be the troops at the Montana Barracks. Fanjul is making a bid for the city after all.”

  “Well, better late than never.”

  “I doubt it in this case. He’s given the Reds a clear two days in which to get organized.”

  They went to the window and stared down into the street.