The Golden Spaniard

by Dennis Wheatley

  “You swear you will not betray me?” Matias asked melodramatically.

  “Oh, shucks, no!” Rex shrugged. “If I had a yen to have you bumped I’ve quite enough on you already. Get busy.”

  Matias could throw no light on the proceedings of Richard and the Duke but he began to talk, so, leaving his post at the door, Rex produced, not one, but two bottles of wine from under his bed and they remained together for the best part of an hour.

  The upshot of the conference was that on the following day Rex was introduced by Matias to three old friends the Syndicalist had collected and two mechanics from the air base; both Communists who were only serving with the Nationalists because their unit had gone over to the Generals at the beginning and who would have been shot had they let their real sympathies be known.

  With this little group of stalwarts to assist him Rex hoped for good results, but he was beginning to get seriously worried. The International Brigade had now been in the line for nine days. With great gallantry and fanatical determination they had fulfilled their boast that Franco’s Legionaries should not pass, but it was obvious now that they could do no more than hold them on the banks of the Manzanares. Rex realised that if he remained where he was until they swept victoriously southward to Valrnojado, with Simon hard on their heels, he might have to wait all winter or perhaps for ever. A week or two in Valrnojado, he felt, was all very well but there were limits. He was decidedly tired of the Spanish War and wanted to get home.

  His own aeroplane had not returned from Burgos and he began to think it never would. The Insurgents needed every plane they could lay their hands on, and from Burgos it had been sent on somewhere else. Captain de Leon appeared genuinely distressed about its non-return and promised adequate compensation if it were delayed indefinitely, but Rex was not seriously worried by the loss of his plane. He had an idea as to how he could fade gracefully out from Valmojado, and Spain, when he wished.

  He continued to display a most friendly interest in the activities of the Insurgent airmen and was persona grata now with most of the officers. When their machines gave trouble he was often on hand with sound suggestions and practical help. His extraordinary capacity for consuming enormous quantities of strong liquor without turning a hair endeared him to the more riotous among them and particularly to the Germans, who were all hard drinkers.

  By 24th November he would have been exactly a fortnight in Valmojado so he decided that on that day he would clear out; but on the afternoon of 22nd November he received an unexpected shock.

  He had lunched as usual at the inn and, feeling no desire to sleep through the siesta hours, was sitting at a table in the window, quietly enjoying some Spanish brandy, when a two-seater car drew up and Richard got out.

  Richard was equally surprised to see Rex. His face went quite blank for a moment, then he entered the inn with an amused smile.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, walking over to the solitary figure in the dining-room. “Who’d have thought I’d find my old friend Rex Mackintosh Van Ryn sitting all ready to offer me a glass of brandy in Valmojado!”

  “My name’s Eaton in these parts,” grinned Rex, recovering himself quickly. “As for brandy—welcome! Get a glass and help yourself.”

  “Eaton!” repeated Richard. “God, what cheek!”

  “Yep, Eaton. An’ don’t you forget it. The front part’s William but I’m Bill to you. We’re long-lost cousins. That’s the way it is.”

  “Is it, indeed?” Not a soul was about and, seeing no other glass, Richard took Rex’s, refilled it and sat down. “Can you give me any adequate reason why I shouldn’t run you in?”

  “Yeah, plenty. The same sort as you and the Duke gave Simon and me when we played spillikins in the Palacio Coralles. If you wise up the people here that I’m not your ever-loving cousin Bill who has come all the way to Spain to look for you and protect our interests at the aluminium joint we own between us, they’ll have me shot.”

  “So we own the factory between us now, do we? That’s a good one. I suppose you’ve got some bee in your bonnet that the gold’s here and you’ve been poking round to try to find it.”

  “No, boy, no. I wouldn’t think a thing like that. I’m just here teaching the Nationalists how to make clam-chowder without any clams.”

  “You know it’s darned lucky for you I ran into you here and learned about this cousin business before I’d seen anyone else.”

  “Sure. Good break for me it happened that way. You’re looking mighty fit, Richard. Have they installed a sunbathing apparatus in the British Commercial Attache’s office?”

  “British Commercial.…” Richard suddenly laughed. “But we weren’t there for more than eight hours after Simon hoiked you out of the Finnish Legation. We got away to fresh quarters the same night.”

  Rex laughed too. “That explains your getting here. Poor old Simon. He’s had half the bulls in Madrid squatting round the Commercial Office this last fortnight for the sole purpose of keeping you and the Duke fenced in there.”

  “So as to ensure you a free hand here in the character of Cousin William, eh?”

  “That’s the idea. We figured you might get a message through for someone to collect the goods but not that you’d turn up yourself.”

  “Actually I’ve been on a very pleasant trip to Madeira. Had two days there, caught a boat back to Gib., and motored up.”

  “Sounds grand. But why Madeira?”

  “The only way friends could get me out was on a South American-bound ship. It nearly took me there as a matter of fact and, in one way, I wish to God it had. I’m sick to death of this darned Spanish business.”

  “So am I. Fed to the teeth. There’re a lot of rotten bums on both sides but some mighty good chaps as well. The factory’s been turned into an air base and some of the pilots there are grand guys. I wouldn’t like to see them scuppered any more than the best Government lads in Madrid. I don’t give a cuss which side wins now as long as it gives the other a fair deal.”

  “That’s just how I feel.”

  “Then why not quit? I’ve done all I can here and I’m thinking of calling it a day. Being a big-hearted guy I’ll maybe fix it so you can come along if you want.”

  “Thanks but I’ve got a job to do first.”

  “Handing over the great old treasure trove,” Rex laughed. “Well, I wish you joy of that.”

  “It’s not quite as simple as it sounds,” Richard confessed. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t tell you since, if you did get on to where it is, you couldn’t shift it now you’re in enemy territory. The stuff was here, but somebody pinched it while we were bottled up in Madrid.”

  Rex’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t say!”

  “Yes. It’s gone from where we left it and may have only been transferred to a new hiding-place or may have been carted off from Valmojado altogether. That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  “In that case—I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you two days to have a look around. If you haven’t hit on it by that time the odds are you won’t hit on it at all. If a third party’s muscled in on the deal and made off with it you won’t get yourself any place staying put here. We’d best make a break for it together and quit Spain for good and all.”

  “It’s certainly worth thinking about,” Richard agreed non-committally. “Anyhow, I must have a good look round first, and I might as well make a start now.”

  They drove in Richard’s car down to the Air Force mess, the run giving them just sufficient time to tidy up the loose ends of Rex’s story about his being William Eaton, and the details of Richard’s unexpected arrival in Valmojado. He was to stick to the truth as far as possible and say that he had been a refugee in the Finnish Legation since leaving Valmojado but on getting away from Spain had returned via Gibraltar to see what had happened to the factory.

  Rex produced the big surprise of his ‘cousin’s’ safety and arrival with convincing hilarity. There was much congratulating and handshaking, and
drinks all round. Richard was questioned eagerly about the state of Madrid when he had succeeded in getting away from it, and was able to give eye-witness accounts. To Don Baltazar’s delight he was also able to provide much first-hand material about Red atrocities. Coming from a neutral the bald-headed Intelligence Officer considered these especially valuable and although Richard was an anti-Red, he did not attempt to gild the lily. His own memories were enough to make him feel faint and sick, but the ghoulish Don Baltazar eagerly gobbled them all up.

  It was decided that Richard should share his old quarters above the offices with Rex. He was delighted to find his things still there, and having unpacked the new bag he had brought with him, he excused himself to Rex and set about his investigation.

  The first man he questioned in the factory yard told him what had happened to Jacinto so he went at once to see the old foreman.

  Jacinto wrung his hand again and again. In the same breath almost he was speaking of the visit he had received from William Eaton and inquiring if their good friend ‘Dubois’ were safe.

  “‘Dubois’ is well and sends you his heartiest greetings,” Richard replied. “As for William Eaton, he is my cousin but he’s not in on our secret. I hope you didn’t tell him anything.’

  “No, Señor,” Jacinto shook his head. “Praise be to God, I did not. When he spoke of you his voice had the ring of genuine affection but—well, I decided to tell him nothing.”

  “Good for you. I was most terribly sorry to hear you had been wounded.”

  “Yes. It was hard luck and the foot pains me, but the doctor hopes to have me about on crutches at the end of next week.”

  “It’s rotten to have lost a foot but thank God it’s not worse. Now, what’s been going on here? Dubois and I learned that the gold had disappeared. We’ve been worrying ourselves stiff about it.”

  “That was unnecessary, Señor. I had to move it but it is still safely hidden.”

  “What! You moved it? By Jove, that’s grand. Where is it now, then?”

  Jacinto smiled. “A fortnight after you disappeared a man came from Madrid. He was some sort of Commissar of Supplies for the Red Army. He made me assemble our Committee and went through the stock book with us. We had saucepans, kettles, frying-pans, many things which would be useful to his men. He made a note of all and told us that as soon as he could get lorries he would come out and collect them.”

  “But a Monarchist agent informed us that all the stock is still here.”

  “It is, Señor. The man never came back with his lorries. He may have been killed or been busy with other work. The Reds are like that—silly people who make much fuss but have no sense of order. We set to at once, removed the gold from the kitchen gear and re-smelted it in secret.”

  “That must have been the hell of a job.”

  “It needed less time than our original labour. Eight nights and a week-end. We were half-dead when it was done but I was in constant fear that the Commissar of Supplies would turn up again.”

  “What did you do with the gold—bury it?”

  “We moulded it into bricks—nearly nine hundred of them,” Jacinto winked, “and then we built a hen-house.”

  “A hen-house!” repeated Richard.

  “Yes, Señor. The gold was too heavy for us to move it any distance so we knocked a hole in the factory wall just alongside the furnace, passed it out brick by brick and built our hen-house against the back of the factory on that piece of waste-land where no one ever goes. We painted each brick, then sloshed mud over it. When the place was stocked with chickens it looked much like any other hereabouts. You will see.”

  “That was a marvellous idea! Absolutely marvellous. What has happened to Carlos, Basilio and the other two? I’ve only been here a few hours but I haven’t seen any of them about.”

  “All four of them have joined the Requetes, Señor. Their work here was done. Directly the Nationalists got within twenty miles of Valmojado they went off to slip through the Red lines and fight for Spain—as it is right they should do.”

  Richard nodded, and began to undo his waistcoat. “Well, good luck to them all. Here’s the cash for the last days’ wages which we never had a chance to pay you, and the bonus which was promised on completion of the work. Will you take care of the others’ shares and tell them from Dubois and me that no money can ever measure our gratitude to you all.”

  “It was for Spain, Señor,” said the old man with simple dignity. “We would have done it gladly without payment but it was a joy to work with two such Caballeros as yourselves; and this money, it is a graciousness of yours which will always be remembered by us as making the difference between a well-filled pot and a thin stew.”

  “I’ll come again,” said Richard, “and tell you all about our adventures in Madrid. But I must be off now and have a look at this hen-house of yours. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Mil gracias, Señor” I expect the airmen have stolen all the chickens but you cannot miss the little building. It is behind the furnace house and attached to it.”

  With light heart and brisk step Richard marched down the road. He was enormously elated by the thought that his mission had terminated with such unexpected speed and success. He had visualised long interrogations of the factory hands, the disappointments of false trails, and a gruelling search, ending perhaps in the unearthing of a piece of information which would necessitate de Richleau plunging again into fresh dangers in Madrid. Now, all he had to do was to hand the gold over to the Commandant at the air base for safe transmission to Burgos, and notify the Duke that all was well.

  Within a week they would all be out of this sad and bloody land for good. The explanation of the removal of the gold was so simple, now he knew it, he wondered that some such thing had not occurred to either of them. He thought of Rex’s wasted fortnight at Valmojado and chuckled. Poor old Rex, how could he possibly have hoped to find the treasure, arriving as a stranger and knowing no one in the place?

  By that time Richard had reached the back of the furnace house. He saw a square space fenced in with wire netting. Inside it the grass had been partially scratched away. He saw a place about three feet up in the factory wall where a hole had evidently been recently made and bricked up again. He saw a pointed roof of boards and tarred felting laying upside down where it had been cast aside. He saw bird’s feathers and droppings in a barren patch about eight feet by four near by; but the golden hen-house was no longer there.

  Chapter XXIX

  Armistice for two

  Richard rested his hands on the edge of the three-foot-high wire netting and stared over it at the empty enclosure. His whole body went a little limp for a moment. He was desperately tired of the horror and misery that racked Spain. Apart from risking his life he had known continuous discomfort and uncertainty during the four months from early July onwards.

  His recent trip to Madeira had only served to strengthen his craving for the blessed peace that still lay outside Spanish frontiers. He had not told Rex, but a wireless message to Marie-Lou in the yacht, which had remained based on Bordeaux, had brought her down to Madeira to meet him in it. For the few days before she landed him again at Gibraltar he had known Paradise again in her dear company. Only a few moments ago he had thought that within a few hours he would be free to return South and rejoin her permanently. Now, he was up against it once again.

  He climbed over the wire netting and examined the shallow, three-sided trench which clearly marked the place where the golden hen-house had been built against the factory wall. There was no indication at all to show whether the erection had been demolished within the last few days or a month ago.

  Naturally, his first thought was that Rex had been there before him. If so, the gold could not be far away. It would only be a matter of systematic search to find it. Richard’s original intention had been to go straight to the Nationalist authorities in Valmojado, tell them the reason for his presence there and secure their assistance. With their help he could have gril
led every workman in the factory until the truth was forthcoming. Those thousands of pots and pans could not possibly have been lightened without someone there being aware of it. The same procedure would be equally certain to provide him with information about the removal of the hen-house, but he could not adopt that method now. If Rex had pulled the place down and buried the gold bricks he must have had assistance to do so. Any mention of the gold to the Nationalists would set on foot an inquiry which would almost inevitably end in costing Rex his life. Even inquiries among the workmen would have to be carried out with the greatest discretion or suspicions would be aroused which would bring Rex into danger. Whatever happened Rex must be shielded.

  But, Richard began to wonder, had Rex removed the gold or was it someone else? Rex’s attitude did not suggest that he had been successful in his treasure-hunt and he was quite obviously fed-up with the whole business. Would he have talked of kicking the dust of Spain off his heels in two day’s time if he had managed to secrete the Coralles millions in some new hiding-place? Surely he would have remained there until he received fresh instructions from Simon and they could engineer some attempt to get the stuff out of Nationalist territory.

  Richard noticed that there was a jagged rent in the concrete of the furnace house coping; that a heap of tumbled bricks showed where a corner of another of the factory buildings had been blown in; that half one of the store-sheds was now a pile of debris and, last but not least, that there was another jagged rent in the discarded board roof of the hen-house. Valmojado had been shelled by artillery, he knew, for some days before it had been taken. Jacinto had had his foot blown off by a stray shell two days before the place had been finally evacuated. Perhaps a shell had hit the hen-house. If that had happened it was quite certain that the paint and mud which had disguised the golden bricks would have been blasted away from many of them, revealing their true colour. The factory had been held by a company of Militiamen. No sooner had one seen the gold than the whole lot would have been scrambling to secure a portion of this unexpected prize. The more Richard considered this new theory the more probable he thought it and he saw that if it were correct the Coralles fortune and all traces of it had been dispersed for good. He might kick his heels in Valmojado until Doomsday without result.