“And you think that is something to be proud of?” The officer regarded him, his lip curled in scorn.
“No; I am thankful for such loyalty,” said Saint-Germain with utter sincerity.
“Huh!” the officer scoffed. Then, abruptly, he handed it back to Saint-Germain. “Well. Everything seems to be in order. Drive on.”
Saint-Germain took the portfolio, saying, “Muchas gracias,” then did as he had been ordered, noticing in the rearview mirror that the auto that had been in line behind him was pulled over and the occupants removed at gunpoint.
“Trouble?” Rogerio asked without opening his eyes. “I listened.”
“Indeed. As to the trouble, we’ll have to wait to find out,” said Saint-Germain, putting his attention on the street ahead, for he was now entering Talavera de la Reina and saw soldiers everywhere; most of the population remained indoors, those few on the streets were either outrageously reveling or careful and furtive, avoiding the soldiers who gave the streets the appearance of an army camp. “I think we had best not stop here,” he remarked as he heard the rattle of gunfire nearby.
“On to Madrid,” Rogerio said dryly. “As soon as possible.”
“No. Not Madrid. Not with the military already spreading through the country. If Talavera is so filled with soldiers, Madrid will be worse, and more dangerous because of it” Saint-Germain began to read the various road-signs as he passed them. “I think we’ll take another way. There is a road to Escalona If you will look for it?”
“Escalona. Certainly,” said Rogerio, sitting up and beginning to take notice of the activity around them. “This is very troubling.”
“Yes, it is,” said Saint-Germain as he reached the Plaza de Santa Maria de las Estrellas, where a small sign pointed the way to Escalona He made the turn, pausing to let a squad of soldiers cross the plaza in front of him. “They are getting ready for something.”
Rogerio peered down a side-street where the first bright streamers of fire were beginning to rage. “We’d best leave here soon.”
“My thought exactly,” said Saint-Germain, and continued down the street toward the road to Escalona “Let us hope we can depart without incident.”
“Are you expecting an attempt to stop—” Rogerio began, stopping himself before he said too much.
“I am trying to expect nothing,” said Saint-Germain as his memories crowded in upon him. “I want to keep my attention on what happens now, not what might happen.”
“Just as well,” said Rogerio.
Saint-Germain said nothing, but there was a glint in his dark eyes that warned Rogerio that his master was in a state of heightened awareness. Finally, as they left Talavera de la Reina behind, he relaxed a little. “A discouraging turn of events.”
“The army being in Talavera?” Rogerio asked.
“The whole of it. I thought it would not escalate so quickly. I suppose the generals are becoming impatient.” He sighed and drove awhile in silence. “If you will watch for a place we can purchase fuel?”
“I have been doing,” said Rogerio. “How much do we have left?”
“A bit less than a quarter tank,” said Saint-Germain, glancing out the window to the mountains rising sharply on their left. “I doubt there are any villages off this road that would have petrol to sell.”
“Most won’t have petrol at all,” said Rogerio. “I think San Juan el Monje is up ahead. There is a post office there.”
“I hope we’re not too late,” said Saint-Germain.
“It’s not quite midnight. We should be in time,” said Rogerio. “I hope there aren’t so many soldiers.” He looked down at the portfolio. “We may have to pay a high price.”
“That is no problem,” Saint-Germain said. “The banknotes are in the map-pocket on your seat. There’s enough there to fuel half-a-dozen airplanes.”
“Weren’t you worried the soldiers might find it?” Rogerio inquired, trying not to sound worried.
“No. If they had taken us from this auto, money would have been the least of our problems.” The line of his mouth was grim.
Rogerio nodded, then pointed. “San Juan el Monje. There are some lights burning.”
“Any sign of soldiers?”
“None that I can see,” Rogerio answered carefully.
“Then we’ll see if we can buy some petrol. The post office should be in the central plaza,” he said calmly. “If there is fuel in this place, it will be there.”
“We’d best buy as much as we can,” Rogerio said, worry in his voice.
A few gaslights shone to mark the central plaza; at the east end stood the old church of San Juan el Monje; to its right was the Officina del Pueblo; to the left were the post office and bank, which then became an arcade for shops and eating establishments. A pair of soldiers stood in the plaza where a few late-dining citizens were lingering in an outdoor café; the soldiers kept a casual eye on them, then turned their attention to Saint-Germain as the Voisin came into the plaza and rolled toward the petrol pump in front of the post office.
One of the soldiers ambled over to the petrol pump and put his arm around it. “You looking for something, señor?”
“I am,” said Saint-Germain.
“And would it be petrol for your auto?”
“It would.”
The soldier smiled without any humor. “If it is fuel you want, it is under the control of the army.”
“I am prepared to pay,” said Saint-Germain.
“How can I ignore my orders, señor?” the soldier asked in mock dismay. “You expect me to make an exception of you?”
“I think you wouldn’t turn down a great deal of money,” said Saint-Germain.
“A great deal of money?” the soldier echoed. “What would that be?”
“Do you know what gold coins are worth?” Saint-Germain asked.
The soldier laughed. “You cannot tell me you would pay gold for petrol.”
“I would, if you want gold.”
“How will I know the coins aren’t base metal with a thin coating?” The soldier wagged a finger at him. “There are many offering such counterfeits.”
“What would you consider, then?”
“Oh,” said the soldier with exaggerated nonchalance, “I don’t know. Suggest a sum.”
“Do you want pesetas as bills, or old-fashioned reales?” Saint-Germain kept his voice level.
The soldier looked about as if he were afraid of being overheard. “Reales? You have them?”
“They are gold coins,” Saint-Germain reminded him.
“But stamped and…” His voice trailed off. “How many reales will you pay?”
“For a full tank of fuel, and two full extra containers, five reales,” said Saint-Germain, who, a century ago, had paid that amount for a superb Andalusian stallion.
The soldier swallowed. “Is this a joke?”
Saint-Germain pulled the coins from his pocket and held them out for the soldier to see. “Examine them. Satisfy yourself that they are genuine.”
With trembling fingers, the soldier took the five gold coins. “Heavy,” he remarked, and bit one of them, not knowing what it should reveal but aware that it was proper to bite gold. “I suppose these must be genuine.”
“They are,” said Saint-Germain, who had made the gold and poured the ancient molds himself, a month ago.
“A goodly amount.” The soldier regarded Saint-Germain with avaricious speculation.
“I must reach Burgos in time to show the army a new airplane my company makes,” said Saint-Germain without any outward indication of the anxiety he felt. “I am expected there, so it is worth extra money to me to be timely.”
The coins clinked in the soldier’s hand. “Five gold coins.”
“For a full tank of petrol, and two containers,” said Saint-Germain, “you may have them.”
The soldier continued to stare at the coins in his hand. “All right,” he said at last. “But I could simply keep these and order you to go along.”
“Yes, you could,” said Saint-Germain. “But you are a man of honor.” There was no suggestion of sarcasm in his voice.
“That I am,” he said, and cranked the pump. “You will have to fill it yourself,” he announced.
Rogerio got out of the Voisin. “I’ll attend to it,” he said, and went to take the nozzle from the soldier. He filled the tank as quickly as the pump would allow, taking care not to look directly at the soldier. When he was done, he thanked him and got back into the passenger seat.
“Where are you bound, again?” the soldier asked.
“We have authorized passage to Burgos, as I told you,” said Saint-Germain.
“Along way. Perhaps you should rest for the night.” There was a crafty angle to his brow now, as if he had hit upon another way to get more riches from this stranger.
“Thank you, soldier, but we still have a way to go tonight, I fear.” He put the auto in gear.
“There may be fighting ahead,” the soldier warned.
“Thank you for telling us,” said Saint-Germain before he rolled up the window.
“Don’t blame me if you’re stopped again!” the soldier yelled after them.
A short distance out of San Juan el Monje the road ran parallel to an old railway line; Rogerio relaxed a bit as the tracks and the road began to rise into the hills. “They usually maintain roads that give rail access,” he said after a few kilometers of silence.
“They also make excellent targets,” said Saint-Germain, a frown beginning to accent his brow.
“Surely you don’t think there will be an attack at this hour,” said Rogerio. “It’s almost midnight.”
“I think anything is possible,” said Saint-Germain. “There is so much at stake, for all the sides in the conflict.”
Rogerio nodded sadly. “But out here, in the mountains, what would be the point?”
“There is always intimidation,” said Saint-Germain, and slowed down as he caught sight of a peasant in a goat-cart on the road ahead. “What do you think?” he asked Rogerio.
“A farmer who stayed late in town,” said Rogerio as they came abreast of the goat-cart.
“Or a partisan carrying weapons to guerillas,” said Saint-Germain. “The cart is empty but the goat is straining.”
The peasant paid no attention to the auto; he stared ahead as if completely unaware of the Voisin and the men in it.
“It has been a long day; the animal is tired,” said Rogerio, no longer as certain of this as he was a moment before.
“Perhaps,” said Saint-Germain as they left the goat-cart behind. “I hope the soldiers don’t find him, whatever the case. They might not be willing to leave him alone.” He shifted gears and picked up speed once more.
By dawn they had reached Alcobendas; they sought out a repair shop where Saint-Germain purchased and replaced two tires, commenting as he did, “The roads are very rough, here in the countryside.”
“Yes, señor, they are,” said the mechanic who changed the tires. “Pray God they do not improve, or my children will starve.” He grinned.
“Then I will also pray that no one will improve the tires,” said Saint-Germain sardonically, as he paid him and tipped the man ten pesetas for his work.
“Gracias, señor,” he said, nodding acknowledgment. He wiped his hands on a tattered bit of toweling and added, “If you are going far, they say there is trouble in Basque country.”
“There is always trouble in Basque country,” said Saint-Germain, recalling how Karl-lo-Magne had made just such a complaint, and the Visigoths before him.
“No; real trouble. The army is going after them, they say.” He crossed himself. “A bad thing.”
“Yes,” said Saint-Germain, preparing to help roll the Voisin out of the repair garage.
“The fighting gets worse and worse; they promise each fight will end it, but then there is another one and it never stops,” the mechanic said, and took the other side of the car to push it outside to where Rogerio waited. “You don’t want to be caught in it.”
“Truly,” said Saint-Germain.
“You were wise to buy fuel now, as much as you can. You may not find any as you go north,” the mechanic told him. “You could be left by the side of the road if you did not fill your tank now.”
“I would prefer not to be,” said Saint-Germain. “And I appreciate your warning.”
“It is my privilege, señor,” said the mechanic. “If you are thirsty or hungry, there is an excellent cantina in the next street. My brother-in-law runs it.” He winked at Rogerio as if he knew that working men shared a secret unknown to their employers. “You will get a good meal there, and wine at a reasonable price.”
“Another time,” said Saint-Germain as he opened the driver’s door.
Rogerio got into the passenger seat. “Thank you for telling us.”
The mechanic shrugged; he had done his best. “As you wish, señor. Buen’ viaje,” he said, waving them away.
Saint-Germain started the engine and listened to the sound of it. “It’s running well,” he told Rogerio as they drove out of Alcobendas.
“That’s a relief,” said Rogerio, his austere features set in stern lines. “We need only concern ourselves with insurgents and soldiers.” He did not expect Saint-Germain to reply, and he went on, “Where are we bound now?”
“Lozoyuela,” said Saint-Germain. “Then Burgos.”
“Assuming all goes well,” said Rogerio.
“Yes; making that assumption,” said Saint-Germain as he shifted into third gear and began to pick up speed.
TEXT OF A REPORT SUBMITTED BY COLONEL JUAN ENRIQUE SENDA IN CÓRDOBA TO THE SECRETARIO DE SEGURIDAD FORTUNIO MORALES Y SETO IN VALLADOLID.
83, Calle Arruga
Córdoba
19 July, 1936
Fortunio Morales y Seto
Secretario de Seguridad
La Plaza della Sagrada Corazon
Valladolid
Dear Secretario Morales y Seto,
It is my duty to report to you my discoveries at Eclipse Aeroplano Industrias, formerly owned and financed by Ferenc Ragoczy, el Conde de Saint-Germain, and to that end I submit this to you. This is the sum of the information I have been able to garner in his regard, and I offer it to you.
Ten days ago, this Conde de Saint-Germain left the city of Cádiz. He had valid travel documents for Burgos, and apparently went there, for there is a reliable report that he and his manservant were there for the trials on the new design of the Eclipse Aeroplano Industrias’ Spartan airplane, this one with increased range. He watched the whole official tests of the airplane, and then said he was going to leave for the night. He did not return the following day, and, from all I can discover, he did not spend the night at any hotel in Burgos. It is always possible he had friends in the city, but if so, they have not come forward and he, himself, along with his manservant, is missing.
It may be that since he was wounded by random gunfire, he has decided to isolate himself, which is understandable, for he is a foreigner and inclined to avoid direct conflict It may be that his injury was more serious than anyone supposed and he has gone to seek appropriate medical help. He may have encountered an enemy from his past and decided that it was wiser to disappear than fight Whatever the case, his absence is to our advantage just now, for with the generals finally making their move, we will not want to have to gain the approval of this foreigner for all we need this company to provide us. We have only to declare him an enemy of the revolution, and then claim his business.
The woman presently acting as Chairman of Eclipse Aeroplano Industrias, a Czech woman named Druze Sviny, who is a mathematician, tells me she has had no instructions from Saint-Germain, either by telegram, telephone, or letter, since his appearance in Burgos. She has no notion of where he can have gone, although she says he has planned to visit a blood relative in Provence, and may well have gone there.
I have busied myself the last four days trying to learn everything that I can ab
out the condition of his company, and, I must say, it appears to be in excellent financial and design health, and the worth of the airplanes has been proven many times. This company is going to be a real asset to the army as soon as we can take possession of it I have already filed the papers of military acquisition to claim this business as strategically necessary for our eventual triumph over the guerillas who so plague our country. The Junta will need all the support we can provide them: with Cádiz and Seville rising in their favor, we must have victory, and soon.
The various airplane designs that we have seen here may be adapted to military purposes without adding significantly to weight or fuel consumption. I believe there are men here who are willing to stay on and aid us—not all are Spanish, but they live here and have some interest in seeing the country stable once again. I will enclose the names of those I recommend for employment.
I was relieved to discover that Saint-Germain had stockpiled steel and aluminum; this plant can continue to produce airplanes for another ten months at the current rate without requisitioning more materiel, which is to our advantage with the possible shortages we anticipate being part of our coming struggle. These stockpiles are an unanticipated asset, and one that we should make a gesture of recompense to Saint-Germain, to show that it is not our purpose to strip him of his company entirely, for that would be seen as plundering a business, which would not be to our advantage at this time. A settlement for the supplies should soften the blow of our laying claim to this fine manufactory.
The financial records I have seen indicate that this company has been turning a profit for the last two years, and that those profits are increasing, and therefore we will have no debt that we would have to discharge. This, too, is good news. I don’t suppose you can authorize any accountants to inspect the books, but from my cursory inspection, you will not find hidden debts or other indications of mismanagement.
If you have any specific information you wish me to provide, it will be my pleasure to comply with your request as quickly as possible.
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