*
Nearly a year before Pierce’s arrival, the city of Merida succumbed to a vicious assault by nationalist forces on their march northwards. Intense artillery and aerial bombardment at the beginning of the battle had left a pock marked landscape that remained as a reminder of the battle.
Having travelled the majority of the distance from Seville to Merida on horse paths away from the road, Pierce was now witnessing first hand the effects of war. It was a sobering scene that left him with a feeling of melancholy.
“We’re lucky we weren’t here a year ago,” observed Sean beside him and reading his thoughts. “At least the bodies have all been buried or cleared away.”
Pierce nodded in acknowledgement, not too proud to admit that he did not want to be in the presence of battle ravaged bodies.
After disposing of the nationalist patrol, the Brown Pack had moved swiftly to distance themselves from the scene. A couple of hours riding led them to the western bank of the Guadiana River. Here they found an empty house to use as a perch by the Puente Romano, the old Roman bridge that crossed the river and led to the heart of Merida. By nightfall they were all settled in and laying in wait for their quarry to reappear in order to continue the chase.
Although the night and morning brought no change, Pierce and his men were rewarded for their patience when Liam let out an audible sigh of relief from behind a pair of binoculars.
“I’m not going to lie,” he began as he watched their distant approach. “But for a little while there this morning, I thought they’d thrown in the towel and headed back for Seville. Leaving us like a bunch of fools dodging patrols in the middle of a civil war.”
“Even if that were true, we’d be gaining valuable experience,” countered MacDuff, joining him with his own binoculars.
“Ever the optimist Duffy.”
“Which way are they going?” Pierce interrupted them. “Not all of us have binoculars.”
“Apologies my Lord,” grovelled Liam as he dropped to one knee and held his pair up, while keeping his eyes lowered. After a few seconds he peaked up with mirthful eyes.
“Knock it off. Are they heading for Merida or not?” Pierce said after giving Liam a quick boot to the side.
“Merida,” concluded MacDuff, still watching their progress. “I suggest Sean and Liam cross the bridge now and await their arrival from inside the city. You and I will follow them from behind.”
“Agreed,” approved Pierce after giving it some thought, calculating the risk they’d lose track of each other once in the city if they split up. However it would be easier for them to go unnoticed teamed in pairs. “We could really use some radios for these situations.”
“The Manor has strict rules against bringing future technologies on hunts,” replied MacDuff. “Besides laddie, that would take all the fun out of things.”
Liam and Sean threw their packs onto their horses and led them out and onto the busy bridge, just another pair of travellers heading into the city. Pierce and MacDuff ignored their progress, keeping a closer eye on Bufford’s truck instead. When it was halfway across the bridge they left to follow, leading their own horses through traffic.
“Looks like they really came prepared,” observed Pierce after catching a glimpse of the men in the back. Sitting in the back of the truck, two of Buffords’ hounds sat on a bench brandishing rifles and dressed as Nationalist soldiers. The truck had also been repainted to appear like a military transport and the driver was honking the horn with regular ferocity at anyone crossing their path. This intimidating veneer allowed the truck to pass through the crowds of the city more quickly than they enjoyed in Seville.
“Why didn’t we think of that?” questioned Pierce as he and MacDuff struggled to navigate the narrow winding streets while keeping pace with the truck ahead.
“More trouble than it’s worth,” replied MacDuff in his best instructors tone. “Everyone would have to speak fluent Spanish to start with, which we don’t. What do you think would happen if we came upon another patrol, or heaven forbid a full company of soldiers headed by a real officer? Two words of broken Spanish out our mouths and they’d have us hung as spies. Besides that, the Nationalist army isn’t fighting here and those men remaining all know each other. We could fake passing through a town on the way to the front for a day, but if we had to wait any longer it would become suspicious. Who knows, we could even end up being taken to the front to invade Madrid.”
“I suppose the journalist cover is a tad better,” acknowledged Pierce with approval. “Looks like they’re stopping up ahead, we should hang back and see what happens.”
The truck came to a halt on a nameless side street in the middle of the city. The men in the back jumped off and stretched nonchalantly while Bufford got out of the cab and waved for them to follow him. He was dressed like the officer they had encountered briefly, but with significantly more gold braid on his uniform and carrying a leather attaché case. He leaned through the cab window after closing the door and gave some instructions to the driver before the truck continued down the street.
“Liam and Sean will track the truck,” MacDuff informed Pierce, who looked undecided between the men in uniform and the departing vehicle. “We’ll follow Bufford.”
Pierce nodded as the truck took the next left and vanished from their view. He spotted a small track of land across the street that might have been a small park before the war and led his horse there. MacDuff followed and they tied up the horses to a broken bench by a small stone wall. The street was busy, but Pierce didn’t think it was busy enough for two men with horses to go unnoticed. He had seen Bufford and his men go into a building after the truck departed and wanted to get a closer look.
“This is the building they went into?” MacDuff asked after they had walked the short distance from the park and stood facing it from across the street.
Pierce nodded has he looked it over. Unlike its neighbours, the building was painted a vibrant yellow rather than the normal off white and beige of the others. However the bright colour couldn’t hide the signs of abuse the building had encountered from the elements, age, and war. There were cracks and chips in the stone, broken shutters beside the windows, peeling paint near the roof, and the odd bullet hole dotted the façade. Faded writing etched into the large glass window by the door said it was a hotel and then something about water.
“I wonder why they’re staying at a hotel?” MacDuff asked aloud, though mostly to himself. “Surely they’d want to keep a lower profile. Where are you going?” He whispered the question to Pierce’s departing form as it crossed the street towards the hotel.
A sudden flash had crossed Pierce’s mind and he wanted to take advantage of it before he lost his nerve. Watching Bufford and his men split up from the truck, he was reminded of scenes from a John Le Carré novel he’d read. To throw off a tail; spies regularly left their cars, walked though busy buildings, and then emerged from the other side. A new vehicle would be waiting for them and they’d drive off while their stalkers remained waiting outside like suckers. With this in mind he decided to verify that this was indeed still a hotel and that Bufford was staying there. So before MacDuff could catch up to him, he crossed the street and opened the door to the hotel.
The door creaked closed behind him as he entered a spacious and bright foyer. Despite the seedy appearance from outside, the inside of the hotel was well kept and stylish. A bright tile floor stretched from the front desk at his left to a casual lounge on his right. Beyond the lounge Pierce could see a patio though a pair of French doors, complete with fountain and palm trees. The hotel felt like an oasis in the middle of this busy and dusty town.
A slight throat clearing to his left broke Pierce’s reverie and brought him from the patio back to the front desk, where a clerk looked at him expectantly. He walked over to the desk, realizing he must look pretty rough after a long journey on horseback.
“Sprechen sie Deutsch?” Pierce asked the clerk using the German learned f
rom Schell and hoping the answer was negative. He knew that there were Italian and German soldiers fighting for the nationalists, so he hoped he could use this as cover.
The clerk tried to mutter a couple words but then decided on a simple shake of the head.
“Speak English?” Pierce tried again in his most brutal world war two movie German accent. When the clerk nodded he began, hoping that he could keep up the ruse. “Ze Colonel, is he here yet? I am supposed to meet him.”
“Colonel just arrive,” began the clerk helpfully. “He say not bother him until tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Pierce replied slightly put out. “How long is he staying?”
“Not sure. He pay two nights advance.”
“Danke.”
Pierce decided to leave while he had the opportunity and before anyone appeared in the lobby. He walked slowly out the door and then looked for MacDuff across the street. When he didn’t see him there, a moment of panic struck him and he began looking down both ends of the street. He was immediately relieved when he saw MacDuff further down the street and away from the sightline of any of the hotel windows. Pierce casually walked over to the Scotsman, who was leaning against the wall of a small shop.
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” MacDuff whispered crossly as he approached him. “This isn’t a game of hide and seek, this is real life. What if you were seen?”
“I didn’t see anyone in the window when I walked up,” Pierce defended himself. “Besides, we haven’t shaved in a week and I’m new enough Bufford and his men probably don’t remember me that well.”
“Maybe,” replied MacDuff grudgingly. “But that’s a mighty big gamble.”
“Well it paid off. The Colonel is checked in to the hotel for at least two nights. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t giving us the slip.”
“Giving us the slip?” mimicked MacDuff perfectly. “Laddie this is no gangster movie. There’s other ways of finding that out.” He pulled Pierce over to the intersection and pointed down the street. Bufford’s truck was parked there, with two wheels up on the sidewalk.
“How did you know it was parked there and didn’t take off and pick Bufford up from the back?”
MacDuff merely pointed to the other side of the street. Pierce was confused as he turned to look at a small bistro with an array of metal tables and chairs laid out in front. He was about to ask what MacDuff was trying to prove, when he noticed that one of the patrons waved to him.
They both crossed the intersection and made their way to the bistro patio, where Liam and Sean were casually lounged out with their feet up. Pierce turned from them and looked back from where he came. The bistro provided a clear vantage point of both the truck and the front door of the hotel.
“We’ve done this sort of thing before,” MacDuff said, motioning to a seat at his table. He moved a table and a pair of chairs beside the table of the other two so that they could quietly speak amongst themselves.
A waiter brought out a bottle of red wine and a pair of glasses for MacDuff and replaced the empty bottle in front of Liam.
“I still think it was a good idea,” muttered Pierce after the waiter had departed. “Now we know he’s staying there for a couple days.”
“And how did you find that out,” asked Sean.
“I walked in and asked the front clerk.”
“You did what?!” came the exclaimed response. “I beg your pardon my Lord, but that was very risky. What if Bufford had seen you? What if the clerk tells Bufford that there was some Englishman asking for him?”
“Well I knew he wasn’t in the lobby before I entered,” Pierce repeated himself. “And an Englishman wasn’t looking for him. A German was.”
MacDuff gave a laugh of approval and raised his glass in salute.
Pierce leaned back with his glass of wine and began to relax for the first time since the farmhouse. He took a sip and closed his eyes as he felt it trickle down his throat.
“Well they didn’t waste much time,” spat Sean with disapproval. “How long did you say they were planning on staying?”
“The Clerk said a couple days, but he wasn’t sure,” explained Pierce from behind closed eyes. “Why?”
“No reason, other than they just left out the back door and are climbing into the truck,” Sean announced abruptly.
Chapter 20
A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1) Page 69