‘Private word? Yes, sir, of course, sir.’ They went into a tiny boarded-off room.
‘Sir?’
‘Ferry,’ said Seymour, ‘how long have you been here?’
‘Been here?’
‘At Gibraltar.’
‘Ten years, sir.’
‘You will remember, then, the switch to oil?’
‘Big thing for us, sir.’
‘But difficult, I understand. Particularly at first. Before the big contract went through.’
‘With Anglo-Persian? That made all the difference, sir. Before that we were really scraping around. “Those bastards-” begging you pardon, sir, but that’s the way the Admiral used to talk, especially when he was referring to the Admiralty — “have got me down to two days’ supplies. More efficient like that, they say. Just in time. That’s the expression they use. But how am I supposed to fight a war on that basis?”
‘ “Christ, sir,” I said, “we’re not going to fight a war, are we?” “Maybe not,” he said, “but I’ve got to be sure we’re in a position to do so. What I need is some bloody oil!” “Why don’t you try Mr Lockhart, sir?” I said. “He’s got good contacts. He’ll be able to find you some if anybody can.” “You think so, Ferry?” he said, going all thoughtful. “Dead certain, sir,” I said. “He’s got contacts all over the place. I know that because — well, I just know that, sir. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you. Mind you, he might have to cut a few corners.” “There are no corners on the sea, Ferry,” he said, giving me a wink. “Don’t you know that? At least, not as far as I am concerned.”
‘Well, maybe not as far as he was concerned. But there were as far as the Admiralty was concerned, and he got hauled over the coals. That was when he used the Language, sir. But he always had time for Mr Lockhart after that. Said he’d got him out of a hole. And the country, too. And that the bastards didn’t deserve it. Begging your pardon, sir.’
‘Why, hello, Seymour! You back? Got your lady with you?’
‘She might be joining us a bit later.’
‘Like a tot?’
‘Christ, is that a tot?’
‘Navy style, Navy style. Here’s to you. And to your inquiries. How are you getting on?’
‘Pretty well there now, sir. Just one or two small points to clear up. The irregular shipments of oil, for example.’
‘Irregular-? Never heard of it!’
‘Before the Anglo-Persian deal.’
‘I’m quite sure I’ve never heard of it.’
‘To Gibraltar. I’m not saying they weren’t needed. And this, actually, does not need to be part of my inquiries, nor of my report.’
‘It doesn’t? Have another one?’ He signalled to the barman. ‘Another one for Mr Seymour, and me. And make them a reasonable size, Edwards. None of this thimble stuff!’
‘I did, though, have a question,’ said Seymour.
‘You did?’ said the Admiral warily.
‘I can see you had to cut corners to get hold of oil. Before the Anglo-Persian deal. There was something dodgy about your arrangements with Lockhart. However, they got you the oil, and that was what counted. For you. But perhaps not for the Admiralty auditors?’
‘Bastards!’ said Admiral.
‘Yes, I’m sure. They usually are. But it put you in a tight spot afterwards from which, fortunately, you escaped.’
‘The devil looks after his own!’ said the Admiral, grinning.
‘I suspect that while the auditors found out some things, they did not find out everything.’
‘That is possible,’ acknowledged the Admiral.
‘And did not that put you in rather a spot with respect to Lockhart?’
‘How so?’
‘Well, he could have revealed what he knew.’
‘Why would he do that? He had been paid. Handsomely.’
‘Ah, but hadn’t he also, in the process, acquired — how shall I put it? — credit that he might, at some point in the future, draw on?’
‘Well, naturally-’
‘Let me put it a bit more sharply, hadn’t he got a bit of a hold on you?’
‘Let’s stick to the word “credit”, shall we?’
‘Or we could say “favours”. He had done you a favour. Might he not reasonably expect a favour back in return?’
‘That would not seem unreasonable.’
‘What was the favour that he asked?’
‘Well…’
‘I think I know, actually. Or can guess.’
‘You probably can, damn you, Seymour!’
‘But you tell me.’
‘Well…’
The Admiral finished his glass and put it down on the bar.
‘What he wanted was a touch of the Nelsons.’
‘Touch of the Nelsons?’
‘A blind eye. To certain shipments.’
‘Of arms?’
The Admiral nodded. ‘There’s a sort of informal agreement among the Big Powers in this neck of the woods that one Power doesn’t ship arms to territories of another Power.’
‘And you breached it?’
‘Not quite. We didn’t do anything ourselves. But we knew it was going on. And I guessed he had a hand in it. I knew it was for those damned Catalans that he was always so keen on. More trouble than they’re worth, in my opinion, though I’ve got a certain respect for them. But I owed him something, so when he came to me — I agreed to a judicious touch of the Nelsons. But, of course, that wasn’t the end of it.’
‘No?’
‘Not when he got killed. Because, you see, I thought he might have been killed because of that. Because he’d got mixed up in it. And I didn’t like that. I felt I still owed him. So when they did nothing about it, I said, Damned if I’m going to let them get away with this! So I called in you.’
‘You think he died because of the Catalan connection?’
‘Dead sure of it!’
‘I’m not,’ said Seymour.
‘Talking of Nelsons,’ said Seymour, as he turned to go, ‘you’ll remember that part of my duties was to investigate theft in the stores. If you wished to take action — and I think a little frightening might be in order — you could centre it on a matter of some calico. But I’ll leave it to you, sir.’
‘Back to Barcelona, then?’ said the Admiral, as they went out of the door together.
‘Just for a day or two. And then back to England.’
‘I knew a girl in Barcelona once,’ said the Admiral nostalgically. ‘Her name was Dolores.’
‘Lockhart?’ said Leila. ‘Well, he was always a man of sympathies.’
‘Catalan sympathies?’
‘Arab, too. That’s what attracted me to him in the first place. Here is a man who understands us, I thought. And so he did. Up to a point. But lately I have been wondering whether he really understood us. These things go very deep, you know.’
‘And did you mind his sympathies? For people other than the Arabs?’
‘No. Not at first, at any rate. It was all part of him. His generosity, his enthusiasm for everything, his idealism. I loved that, and I loved him.’
‘But you changed. You said, not at first. Not at first: but later?’
‘Well, maybe I did change.’
‘Why?’
She was silent for a little while, thinking.
‘I don’t know,’ she said eventually. ‘Perhaps one grows older. At least, I grew older. I am not sure about him.’
‘He kept the sympathies, while you gradually abandoned them?’
‘Not just that.’ She hesitated. ‘I found that in his case they were mixed with other things.’
‘Women?’
‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘Too often and too much.’
‘People have told me that you forgave him.’
‘So I did. Up to a point. But something died in me.’
‘Did you hate them? The others?’
‘Hate them!’ She looked startled. ‘Well, I suppose I did. Disliked them, certainly. That unspeakable creature in Barcelona! And there were others.’
‘Also in Barcelona?’
‘Yes. There was one woman especially. She — she flaunted him. As a conquest. “Look, I’ve got him. He’s mine, not yours.” Of course, she didn’t really do that. I never met her. But I heard of her, and it was as if she was doing that. Deliberately, to hurt me. And yes, I hated her. But she went the way of all the others, so I shrugged, and let it rest. In the end he always came back to me.’