After she had checked in they returned to Las Ramblas. There seemed to be more people there even than before. It was growing dark and the lamps had been lit. The street entertainers were out in force, often performing around braziers where they could be seen better.
In one place there were several braziers together and a space had been cleared where gypsy-like figures were dancing the flamenco. There was the click of castanets and someone was tapping on a small drum.
Cabezudos were stalking round the edges of the cleared space chatting to the spectators in Catalan.
‘Does that cabezudo know you?’ asked Chantale.
‘No.’
‘Well, it seems to be wanting to speak to you.’
‘It can’t be.’
The cabezudo, which was about eight feet tall, loomed over him.
‘Senor, Senor!’
‘Si?’
‘Lockhart,’ it said quietly, and then capered away.
He followed it to the edge of the crowd.
‘You want to know about Lockhart?’ it said in a hoarse whisper.
‘I do; but how did you know that?’
‘Ricardo told me.’
‘Ricardo Marques?’
‘Si.’
Seymour nodded. ‘You’re right, I do.’
‘Talk to Nina.’
‘Who is Nina?’
‘A teacher. She teaches at the school in your square.’
Your square? He had moved into the hotel only the day before. How did they know about him?
‘Just a minute!’ he said.
But the cabezudo had danced away into the crowd, the huge head jerking comically as it chatted to people, throwing a gigantic, grotesque shadow as it emerged for a moment into the light of the braziers.
Chapter Two
'Nationalists?’ said the Chief of Police, looking at him blankly. ‘There are no Nationalists in Spain. Catalonian or otherwise.’
Seymour had gone to the police station early the next morning to present his credentials.
‘But, surely, what happened in Tragic Week-’
‘Tragic Week? Ah, terrible, terrible! But that was nothing to do with the Nationalists.’
‘No?’
‘No. Riff-raff. Criminals. Arabs. Anarchists. But — ’ The Chief of Police shook his head. ‘Nationalists, no.’
‘But I thought-’
‘The Senor has been misinformed.’
The Chief of Police relented slightly.
‘Of course, it’s easy to get a wrong picture,’ he said. ‘The situation was very confused. I was confused myself. It all happened so suddenly! There was I, having breakfast on the patio, when the phone rings and my wife comes rushing out. “Alonzo,” she said, “you’d better get off your ass. Things are happening.”
‘And then I heard it: shooting. “What the hell’s that?” I said.
‘ “It’s down by the docks,” she said. “Those filthy Arabs again.” (We’ve got a lot of Arabs in the docks, you see, Senor.) “Oh, is it?” I said. “I’ll soon sort them out.” And I went back into the bedroom to get my gun.
‘And while I was there, there was a knock on the door, and it was Pedro, one of my inspectors. “Chief,” he said, “you’d better come. There’s trouble down at the docks.” “It’s those bloody Arabs again, is it?” I said. “No, Chief, I don’t think it is this time,” he said. “It’s more general. All hell is breaking loose.”
‘And when I got there, Christ, all hell was breaking loose! There was fighting everywhere. Shooting, burning, stones flying — stones flying everywhere! It was bloody mayhem. And after a bit of this I thought, this is not for us. You need the bloody Army So I pulled my people out. And then I thought I’d better ring my bosses.
‘But you can do that from home as well as from the office, can’t you? And I felt in need of a drink. So I went home. And after a bit my wife said, “Come on, Alonzo, you’ve got to do something.” “Why?” I said. “Because if you don’t, Madrid will be on to you.” And, Christ, the next minute there was Madrid on to me. “What’s going on, Alonzo?” they said. “It’s bloody war,” I said. “There’s fighting, there’s shooting. The docks are in flames.”
‘ “What are you doing about it?” they said. “Hadn’t you better get stuck in?” “I did get stuck in,” I said. “But I had to pull out. We were taking casualties. There are bloody hundreds of them. This isn’t a thing for the police,” I said. “It’s something for the Army.”
‘Well, they went quiet at that. And then they said, “All right, Alonzo, we’ll talk to Colonel Ramirez. And when you hear the Army’s guns, you go down there and pick up the pieces.”
‘Well, we waited until we heard the Army’s guns and then I said, “Right, we’d better get down there.” But my wife tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t be in too much of a hurry to get down there, Alonzo. Wait until the Army’s guns have stopped.” She’s got her head screwed on, my wife.
‘And it was as well we didn’t get down there too quickly, for the fighting went on for days. The best part of a week. But eventually the shooting stopped and I sent my lads in.
‘ “Pick them up!” I said. “Don’t ask questions. Just bang them in. We can sort out the sheep from the goats later.” So that’s what we did. Picked up everyone in sight. Including, as it turned out, Senor Lockhart.’
‘Including Senor Lockhart?’
The Chief of Police poured himself some water from a carafe standing on his desk, looked at the glass, a little disappointedly, it must be said, as if he had hoped that somehow the water had miraculously turned into wine, and sipped it. He put the glass down.
‘Including Senor Lockhart,’ he said. ‘You have to understand, Senor, that all was confusion. We had no time to get life histories. We just took everybody in, no matter what they were doing. And if you think about it, Senor Seymour, that is not so unreasonable. If bullets are flying all over the place, you’re not going to be just standing there, if you’re nothing to do with it.’
‘Bullets were still flying?’ said Seymour. ‘I thought you said you’d waited until-’
‘The occasional bullet was still flying. Enough bullets were flying,’ said the Chief of Police, wiping his mouth, ‘to make honest people want to keep out of the way.’
‘And that’s when you arrested Senor Lockhart?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What was he doing there?’
‘That,’ said the Chief of Police, ‘is a good question.’
‘But haven’t you been able to answer it? Surely you’ve had enough time. All this happened two years ago!’
‘It is rather more complicated than that,’ said the Chief of Police. ‘To start with, normally we would take statements as soon as a person was admitted. But we took so many people in that week that we couldn’t. We were still working through them when we heard, alas, that Senor Lockhart had died.’
‘Yes,’ said Seymour, ‘I am coming to that.’
‘I thought you might be.’
‘But even if Senor Lockhart died — especially since he died — surely an investigation was made?’
‘Oh, yes. Of course. And a report is being drawn up.’
‘ Is being drawn up?’
‘The investigation has not yet been completed.’
‘After two years?’
The Chief of Police was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘Are you sure you want the investigation to be completed?’
‘Want it?’ said Seymour, taken aback. ‘Of course we want it!’
‘But are you sure? Even if it revealed something that perhaps was better not revealed?’
‘Surely in circumstances like this, an inquiry has to be made. And if it is embarked on, it has to be completed.’
‘And then?’ said the Chief of Police.
‘Well, what happens next depends on the circumstances. There will be several possibilities. A decision will have to be made by the appropriate authority.’
‘And you think that procedure has not been followed?’
‘I don’t know that it’s been followed. That’s the point.’
‘You don’t think the authority may have some discretion in this? Over the publishing of the findings?’
‘Well, in principle