The General's Dog

by James Garcia Woods

  Was now the time for betrayal? Paco wondered. Would they be surrounded by soldiers the moment they stepped out on to the street? But how could Gómez have alerted his security men? They had been together every second since their meeting on the Calle Belén.

  ‘Shall we make our move?’ the major asked.

  ‘Yes, let’s go,’ Paco replied, making a promise to himself that if Gómez had double-crossed him, the final thing he would do before he died himself was to kill the major.

  They stepped out into the street, and walked rapidly towards Pérez, who was kicking the unconscious men as hard as he could.

  ‘Leave them alone!’ Paco said.

  ‘They stole my bottle from me,’ Pérez told him, as he slammed his boot into the groin of one of the fallen guards.

  ‘We wanted them to steal your bottle,’ Paco pointed out. ‘The plan wouldn’t have worked if they hadn’t.’

  ‘They didn’t know that,’ Pérez said, delivering one last kick before walking away in disgust. ‘I’m a thief myself, but I’d never sink so low as to steal from my own kind.’

  Gómez had produced a set of keys, and was opening the first of several padlocks which were attached to the door.

  ‘And how will you explain this away?’ Paco wondered aloud.

  ‘I imagine I’ll say that the raiding party from the other side of the lines must have had a skilled locksmith with them,’ Gómez replied.

  Too glib, Paco thought. Much too glib! How could the major continue to act as though what they were doing wouldn’t damage his career, when it was so obvious that it would?

  There was the sound of rattling wheels just behind them. Paco spun round and saw it was only Private Jiménez, placidly pushing an old wooden handcart in front of him.

  The country boy came to a halt next to the unconscious sentries, bent down and lifted the first one effortlessly into the cart. ‘Dump them somewhere they’re not likely to be found for a while,’ Paco said, and the big peasant nodded to show that he had understood.

  Major Gómez unhooked the last of the padlocks, and swung the door open. Was this the moment, Paco asked himself. Would he be shot as he stepped into the building? If only he knew what Gómez’s angle was, he’d have more of an idea what to expect.

  The two men entered the house and closed the door quickly behind them. Paco shone his torch around the room. Before the army had taken it over, it would have contained tables and chairs, pots and pans. Now it was filled with stacked rifles and boxes of cartridges.

  He found what he looking for in one corner – several wooden boxes labelled dinamita.

  ‘Are you quite sure you know how to use this stuff?’ Gómez asked, and for the first time since they’d begun their desperate gamble, there was a hint of real anxiety in his voice.

  ‘When I was with the Army of Africa, we built a road through the mountains,’ Paco told him. ‘For more than half its length, we had to blast our way through solid rock. So don’t worry, major, there’s nothing you can teach me about creating mayhem.’

  *

  Alone in the little house on the Calle Jose Antonio, Cindy was remembering the letter she had been writing to her parents when she was kidnapped – and wondering what letter she would write if she had the same opportunity now.

  Dear Mom and Dad, she composed in her mind, I’ve been taken prisoner, and I’m now behind enemy lines. I’ve been treated very well so far, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last. The guards were somehow different today. They didn’t glare at me, like they usually do. There was a strange look in their eyes. I couldn’t exactly put a name to it, but if you pressed me, I guess I’d have to say it was ‘expectation’. As if they knew what was going to happen to me! As if they were looking forward to it!

  She lit a cigarette, and felt the smoke curling around her lungs. Women back in her home town never smoked, but then she’d done so many things that women in her home town never did.

  I’m very worried about Paco, she composed. He always comes back to the little prison which we’ve made our home together every lunchtime, but today he didn’t. I keep trying to tell myself that nothing has happened to him – that it’s in Major Gómez’s own interest to keep him safe. . . .

  She stopped, realizing that her parents would have no knowledge of the major, or of what his interest was in keeping Paco safe. But that didn’t really matter, did it? This wasn’t really an imaginary letter to her mom and dad. If anything, she was writing it to herself.

  I don’t think we are going to get out of here alive, she continued. I really don’t. If anyone could make it work, it would be my Paco, but the odds are stacked just too heavily against him, and even if you’re a good bluffer, you still can’t win at poker when all you’re holding is ten high.

  Can’t win at poker when all you’re holding is ten high? she repeated to herself What am I turning into – some kind of backwoods poet? Jesus, I’d be embarrassed if I was really putting this down on paper.

  Don’t be sad when you hear about my death, she ploughed on. It’s true I’ve not had a very long life, but it’s been a good one. You were the best parents a girl could ever have. And then there’s Paco. He’s given me more happiness – and worry and frustration and downright exasperation – than most women ever get to experience. I feel as if I was born to be with him, and if it was only for a short time, well, I guess those are the breaks.

  Am I that brave? she wondered. Can I really face death so calmly? With so few regrets?

  And she was amazed to discover that she was, and that she could.

  *

  Paco stood on the corner of the Plaza Mayor, a small brown canvas bag held carefully in his right hand, and watched Major Gómez walk confidently down the Calle Jose Antonio. He was giving Gómez yet another chance to betray him, he thought, yet another chance to set the trap which would sooner or later clamp its sharp steel jaws around him. But what choice did he have? Cindy had to be told what was about to happen, and using the major was the only way he had to get that message through to her.

  Gómez had reached the house, and was talking to the sentries. But what was he saying to them? That he wished to see the prisoner? Or that he wanted them to inform his security people that it was nearly time to swoop?

  ‘Damn you, Gómez,’ he said softly. ‘I wish I knew why you were so sure you’re going to come out of this thing on top!’

  *

  The three young lieutenants drinking with Colonel Valera at the bar on the Calle Mayor were beginning to realize that the colonel was, quite uncharacteristically, a little drunk.

  ‘This war will bring men of true ability to prominence,’ Valera said, stabbing his finger in the air to punctuate each word. ‘But it will also show up other men for the med . . . mediocrities they really are.’

  The other officers nodded in agreement because what he said was undoubtedly true – and anyway, it was not wise to disagree with someone as high-ranking as the colonel.

  Valera took a large slug from the brandy-glass in front of him. ‘I have been under considerable strain for the last few days,’ the colonel continued. ‘But has it affected my performance in any way? No, of course it hasn’t! Because I am a professional. I have nerves of steel.’

  He signalled the waiter for another round of drinks. ‘It is at times like this, gentlemen, when it is easy to see the difference between the wheat and the chaff – when it is possible to spot the real headless chickens. There is a certain major right here in this very village – I name no names, but you all know who I mean – who has proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is not worthy of his position. And believe me, gentlemen, steps have already been taken to ensure he does not have that position much longer.’

  The waiter placed the drinks on the table, and Valera drained his in three rapid gulps. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I must return to my quarters to see if the sentry, which that same major assigned to me, is doing his job.’

  He fumbled in his pocket for change. �
�We’ll take care of the bill, sir,’ one of the lieutenants said.

  ‘Very kind of you,’ the colonel replied. He rose to his feet and, swaying slightly, headed off in the direction of the Plaza de Santa Teresa.

  ‘By God, the Old Man’s really got it in for Major Gómez, hasn’t he?’ one of the lieutenants said when Valera was out of earshot.

  ‘You can say that again,’ a second agreed. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t think the major’s going to be with us much longer. By this time next week, he’ll be lucky if he’s got the job of counting paper clips back in Burgos.’

  *

  Gómez emerged from the house on the Calle Jose Antonio, spoke briefly to the sentries, then began to walk back up towards the Plaza Myor. What had the major told the guards? Paco wondered. That in five minutes time one of them should be in the alley behind the house, with his rifle at the ready? But was even that necessary? He still had his pistol. If any killing had to be done, it would be easy enough for him to do it himself.

  The major reached the spot where Paco was waiting for him.

  ‘I’ve explained to your woman exactly what she has to do,’ he said. ‘She should be quite safe if you’re anything like as good with explosives as you claim you are.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Paco demanded angrily. ‘That you think I’ll make a mess of it? That you don’t believe me when I say I’ve worked with explosives before?’

  Gómez was taken aback by the sudden outburst. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean that at all.’

  ‘I’ll do my job,’ Paco said, almost shouting now. ‘Just you make bloody sure you do yours.’

  ‘You’ve lost your nerve, haven’t you?’ Gómez said, as realization dawned. ‘You’re scared.’

  ‘Of course I’m scared!’ Paco said, and though the anger was still in his voice, Gómez thought he could now detect the fear which underlay it. ‘I’m shitting myself. Why aren’t you? Don’t you know just how many things could have already gone wrong?’

  ‘If you can manage to keep control of yourself for another few minutes, it will all—’

  ‘Keep control?’ Paco interrupted. ‘How can I keep control when, for all I know, they’ve found the sentry in Valera’s house by now and have men out looking for me?’

  ‘You’re only worried because you feel exposed out here in the open,’ Gómez said soothingly. ‘It’s a little earlier than we planned, but why don’t we go to the alley straight away? You’ll be safe there.’

  ‘Safe?’ Paco said. ‘How the hell can I feel safe anywhere in this bloody village?’

  But when Gómez set off in the direction of the alley, he followed obediently at the major’s heel.

  *

  The only lighting in the alley shone through the back windows of houses on the Calle Jose Antonio, but though both the major and Paco were carrying torches, they thought it safer not to use them.

  They were about half-way to their destination when Paco came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Is something the matter?’ Gómez asked.

  ‘My bloody shoelace has come undone,’ Paco said petulantly. ‘That’s all I bloody needed.’

  He laid the brown canvas bag carefully on the ground, and bent over. But only for a second. When he straightened again, it was to twirl Gómez round, slam him hard against the wall, and twist his right arm as far up his back as it would go without snapping.

  ‘Struggle, and I’ll break it!’ he threatened.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ the major gasped. ‘Have you gone completely off your head?’

  ‘We needed to talk,’ Paco told him, ‘and I just thought I’d make sure I had the advantage when we did.’

  ‘You seem to have got your nerve back,’ Gómez said grimly. ‘I should have known a man like you wouldn’t suddenly go to pieces like that. So what’s this all about?’

  ‘Tell me about the double-cross!’ Paco demanded roughly.

  ‘Double-cross? What double-cross?’

  ‘The one you’ve only a few more minutes to pull off. I want to know where it will happen, and what it will be.’

  ‘There is no double-cross,’ Major Gómez protested. ‘Why should you think there would be?’

  ‘Because, as head of security in the village, you’re going to take a lot of shit if we actually do what we’ve been planning to do.’

  Despite the uncomfortable position he found himself in, the major laughed softly. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, my friend,’ he said. ‘It’s Colonel Valera who’s going to take a lot of shit.’

  ‘Valera?’

  ‘That’s what I said. For some time now, the colonel has not been at all happy about the way I have been carrying out my duties as security officer. As from this evening, I have been relieved of my post, and it is now the sole responsibility of the colonel.’

  It almost made sense, Paco thought. But not quite. ‘You’ve already got enough on Valera to ruin him,’ he said. ‘Why run all this risk just to get some more on him?’

  ‘The colonel has many powerful friends back in the army central command in Burgos,’ Gómez explained. ‘It was always possible that with their help he could survive the scandal of his mistress, whatever the general might want. But after we’ve finished our night’s work, nothing – not even powerful friends – will be able to save him.’

  Paco shook his head, though he was not entirely sure whether it was in admiration or disgust. ‘You’re right,’ he admitted. ‘After tonight, nothing’s going to save the colonel.’

  ‘And there’s an additional bonus in all this for me,’ Gómez continued. ‘We’re about to create a living hell, and in conditions like that even strong men can sometimes go into shock. And it’s at such moments, when everyone else is losing his head, that a natural leader emerges – the one man who can take control and forge all the shell-shocked into an effective force again.’

  ‘And the natural leader on this occasion will have the advantage that the explosions won’t come as a surprise to him.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Gómez agreed. ‘I shall be in the thick of it, directing operations. And once calm is restored, you can be sure I’ll make certain that the people who have the power to secure my advancement learn all about the crucial role I’ve played.’ He paused. ‘So now we’ve cleared up that small misunderstanding, would you mind letting me go.’

  Paco released his grip and stepped back. The major turned around and dusted off his jacket.

  ‘You’re a devious bastard, aren’t you?’ Paco said.

  ‘Am I the only one?’ Gómez asked.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘It’s true I was the one who suggested this particular method of escape,’ Gómez said, ‘but can you honestly say that you weren’t about to come up with a similar scheme yourself?’

  Paco grinned. ‘No, I can’t. My plan was almost exactly the same as yours.’

  ‘So out of all the alternatives open to you, you’d already chosen the one which was designed to inflict maximum damage on your enemies. Why don’t you admit it? This isn’t just an attempt to save your own skin – this is an act of war.’

  Paco’s grin widened. ‘For a few days, you’ve had me thinking like the detective I used to be,’ he said. ‘But that’s all over. Now I’m a Republican militiaman again.’

  The village clock above the town hall struck the hour.

  ‘Five minutes before Private Pérez does his part of the job,’ Major Gómez said.

  ‘Five minutes,’ Paco agreed, opening up the canvas bag.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  One moment there were only the normal noises of the village – the clinking of glasses, the loud voices of the soldiers, the howling of the dogs – and the next all hell broke loose as the explosion rocked the buildings on the Plaza Mayor, and filled the night sky over the armoury with a bright crimson cloud.

  ‘We’re under attack!’ men shouted to each other. ‘The enemy are in the village!’

  Some of the unarmed soldiers o
n the square stood frozen to the spot. Some started to run blindly, elbowing their comrades aside, and inevitably crashing into other men who were running, just as aimlessly, in the other direction. Bar tables were overturned. Men who had been knocked over, or had fallen down, sprawled on the ground and were trampled into the dirt. Prostitutes screamed with terror. Donkeys brayed loudly, and lashed out with their hind legs at the empty air. It had taken only seconds to turn a well-ordered village into a maelstrom of panic.

  The boom of the initial explosion died away, and was replaced by thousands of smaller ones as the cartridge boxes in the armoury caught fire. By the checkpoints at the edge of the village, sentries who did not know whether to stay at their posts or head towards the attack argued between themselves in loud, hysterical voices. In the officers’ billets all around the Plaza de Santa Teresa, lieutenants and captains tried desperately to recall what they’d learned during their training in the military academy in Zaragoza. And in the general’s palacio, the general himself was bawling rapid, contradictory instructions to anyone who would listen to him.

  *

  When he’d visited the house on Calle Jose Antonio a few minutes earlier, the first thing Major Gómez had done was to upend the dining-table and place it by the window, with its top pointing towards the back wall.

  ‘Get behind that,’ he’d told Cindy. ‘And stay behind it until you’re told it’s safe to come out.’

  ‘I don’t understand what’s going on,’ Cindy had said.

  ‘You don’t need to. Just do as you’re told.’

  ‘Why won’t you explain to me what’s happening?’ Cindy had pleaded. ‘Why won’t you tell me what to expect?’

  Gómez had merely smiled, as if he were really enjoying having the power of knowing something she didn’t. ‘Isn’t it obvious what’s happening?’ he asked. ‘Your knight in a shiny old suit is on his way to rescue you.’

  She’d been crouched behind the dining-table for about ten minutes when she heard the explosion which was soon to cause complete pandemonium on the main square.