‘Alas!’ said Seymour. ‘Another time, perhaps. But perhaps this time you will allow me to take you out for a drink?’
‘Well…’ said the Chief of Police.
He took Seymour to a little bar on Las Ramblas.
‘I come here often,’ he said.
‘I’m sure.’
‘But it is not as Constanza supposes. I come here to pursue my duties.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. You know what they say about Las Ramblas? They say that on Las Ramblas you will meet everyone in Barcelona that you know. Sitting here, they come to me. I don’t go to them. I can keep an eye on what they’re up to. See, for instance, who they talk to. And that suggests things. Things that might happen. Or things that have happened or might have happened. As with Senor Lockhart, for example.’
‘Lockhart?’
‘Yes. Whenever he came to Barcelona he would take a walk along Las Ramblas, and I would see him and see who he talked to. And I would see him talking to someone and say to myself: ah, so something’s happening in that quarter, is it? And later something would happen. A bargain would be struck, a deal made. And I would have seen it coming. People say to me, “How do you know these things?” I know them because I have seen the beginnings of them. Here on Las Ramblas.
‘Of course, Senor Lockhart used to talk to many people. It would be necessary to sift a bit. I would see him talking to someone and say to myself, “Ah, that is an old friend.” Or perhaps I would see him talking to a pretty girl and say to myself, “Ah, there he goes again!” But in this way I learned a lot about Senor Lockhart.
‘I would see him talking to the cabezudos, for example. He always talked to them, every time he came. He said they brought fun into the life of Barcelona. And that, perhaps, is true. But they also brought other things: disorder, misrule, subversion. The things that a Chief of Police has to keep his eye on. And I wondered why Senor Lockhart always talked to them.
‘But the answer is clear, is it not? There was a side to Senor Lockhart that was sympathetic to them. It showed itself in other things; that crazy girl, for example, that you just saw me talking to. They tell me he used to give her money. For the school, he said. Well, I wonder about that. I, too, am keen on education. We would have sent our children to a good Catholic school. The one near St Mark’s, for example. And when the Fathers come along, I put my hand in my pocket. But that is different from supporting a place like that. And I wonder if he really was supporting it, or whether — well, you know, Senor, some would see her as a pretty girl and maybe that’s the way it was.
‘She told me once she’d been to a decent Catholic school. A good convent school, she said. You would have thought, then, that she would have known better. But she said they were all nasty old bitches there. I told Constanza this, and she crossed herself, and said, “It takes one to know one.”
‘Well, I don’t know about that. I always try to steer clear of religion when I’m talking to Constanza. But she’s a difficult girl, that Nina, and a bit crazy. She’s another one to steer clear of.
‘But that school wasn’t the only thing. There were other things, too. The Catalonians, for example, and the Arabs. He had time, too much time, for them all. And for any other cracked group of misfits. So I was not surprised when Tragic Week came along and he got mixed up in it. You could say I had seen it coming — here, on Las Ramblas. It was in the wind, in the air.’
The Chief gave a great sniff. ‘You could say it was my job. To sniff the air and see when trouble’s coming. And here on Las Ramblas is a good place to sniff it.’
He looked down into the bottom of his glass. It was empty.
‘Another one?’
‘Well…’
When they resumed, the Chief said, ‘So when I sit here, with a glass in my hand, like this, I am not wasting my time. Despite what Constanza thinks. I am working. I am noticing things. And adding them up. I have watched Senor Lockhart from here many times. Watched what he does, who he talks to.
‘And I think, Senor, that I have seen a process. It begins with a walk along Las Ramblas. Sampling the air, enjoying the fun. Talking to acquaintances, old friends. Acquaintances become old friends on Las Ramblas. And I have watched Senor Lockhart’s friendships grow. They begin with a stop to watch, continue with a laugh, and then another laugh, develop into an exchange, into a conversation, and soon there is something more. There is a relationship.
‘And that relationship leads on. One relationship leads to another. And in the end it led, in Senor Lockhart’s case, to what happened during Tragic Week. That is what I think, Senor Seymour. It is like pitch. You touch it and it sticks to your fingers. But you also stick to it; and it draws you in. That is what I think happened to Senor Lockhart.
‘And why I am telling you this is that I see in this also a risk for you. For you, too, Senor Seymour, have been touching pitch. I have watched you, too, and seen you talking to the cabezudos. And the beginning, perhaps, of a conversation?’
Afterwards, as he was walking back to the hotel, he wondered what the Chief of Police had been trying to tell him. Warning him, certainly; but about what? Not about talking to the cabezudos, surely. But who else was the ‘pitch’? Again, surely not Nina. He had warned Nina, too. And there seemed to have been some grounds for that warning. Was that, what she had perhaps been mixed up in, the pitch?
While Seymour had been talking to the Chief, Chantale had gone for a walk of her own along Las Ramblas. On her way she had a strange encounter. She had noticed a man looking at her intently. Well, she was used to that and here, in Barcelona, she didn’t mind it. In Tangier she would have felt uneasy and possibly a little apprehensive. Here, however, in some odd way, it added to the sense of freedom.
The man wavered and then suddenly came purposefully across to her.
‘Senora,’ he said apologetically, ‘I would not ordinarily have approached you in such a way, in the absence of your husband. But I am in some difficulty and when I saw you, I thought, ah, yes, perhaps with her special knowledge she can help me.’
He spoke as if he had recognized her. And then, after a moment, she realized that she recognized him. It was Abou, Leila Lockhart’s brother.
‘Yes?’ she said uncertainly.
“The fact is, I am in Barcelona for a special purpose.’
‘Yes?’ Still slightly uncertainly. If this was a sexual approach, it was a rather unusual one.
‘I do not know the customs here,’ he said.
‘Well, I am not exactly an expert,’ said Chantale, ‘but if I can help-’
‘I am going back to Algeria,’ he said. ‘Soon. Perhaps next week.’
‘Yes?’ she said, encouragingly.
But he seemed unable to say anything more. And then it come out with a rush.
‘I want to arrange my marriage before I go.’
‘Marriage?’ said Chantale.
‘Yes,’ he said, and stopped again.
‘Really?’ said Chantale encouragingly. ‘Marriage?’
‘It is not easy here. In Algeria I would know what to do. I would make it known to my family and, if they approved, they would see to it. They would approach her family and between them they would settle it — the portion, and so on. But here I have no family.’
‘What about your sister?’
‘Leila?’ He frowned. ‘Leila is angry with me. Very angry. I do not want to ask her. And I don’t think she would be very willing to help me, not in this.’
‘Well, I’m not sure that I-’
‘It is advice that I need, Senora, only advice. And I thought that you, as a woman, would know about these things. How it is done here.’
‘Well…’ She paused. ‘I am not sure that I do. I am from Morocco.’
‘But that is precisely why you would understand. You have taken the step yourself.’
‘Step?’
‘Of marrying a foreigner.’
Chantale felt uncomfortable. ‘Well, actually…’ And then enlightenment dawned. ‘Ah! So you are intending to marry someone — not from Algeria?’