Tapestry of Fear (13 page)

I drank my wine determined not to let my anguish show.

If I had believed love to be where none existed, no-one else should know of it but myself. I had, after all, still some pride left.

There was a sharp knock on the door and in my nervousness I spilt my wine, Manuel hastily wiping the chair and my dress, despite my protestations. Javier came back into the room, slim-hipped in a pair of jeans and yellow tee-shirt. I avoided his eyes. Javier knew me too well for me to disguise my feelings from him.

Running footsteps raced up the stairs and Jose burst into the room.

“Are they here yet?” he asked anxiously. “There is no sign of them over the bridge.” He slammed the bread and rolls down onto the table, then, seeing me for the first time his lustrous eyes rested on mine and his tone changed. He said gently: “You must be tired.”

I nodded, my smile answering his, my anxiety subsiding.

“No,” Manuel said. “ They are not here, but don't worry, there is still plenty of time.” He took a roll, splitting it open, buttering it liberally.

“You must be hungry as well,” Jose said, not looking at Manuel, but passing a still warm roll across the table to me, his hand holding mine for a brief, precious second. Then he turned to Manuel, the gentleness gone. “Well, what happened?”

Manuel coughed and said slowly. “ I'm still not sure how they crossed the border. Luis directed the Englishwoman here, he was utterly exhausted by the time they reached here. He had lost a lot of blood. The Englishwoman was no security risk, that much Luis could tell us. She cleaned his leg and re-bandaged it and told us that as far as she knew, both you and the English girl had drowned. After settling Luis down and giving him some sleeping tablets, she insisted that she find out what had happened to you on the beach. She had, she said, to know for definite whether her friend was dead or alive. And if alive, how she could best help her. Antonio was all for keeping her here against her will, but you had trusted her with your brother, it seemed we could do no less than trust her ourselves.”

“And?” Jose demanded as Manuel paused awkwardly. Manuel lowered his eyes to the table. Eugenio, lank black hair hanging low over his forehead, stared studiously out of the only window the room possessed and Antonio was looking anywhere but at Jose.

“Well?” Jose demanded again, thumping the table with his fist.

“Where is she now?”

Their discomfort was only too apparent. Eugenio's cheeks looked suspiciously flushed and my heart hammered painfully as the silent seconds lengthened into moments.

Manuel cleared his throat and Javier's hand rested reassuringly on my shoulder.

“You know about the split with Garmendia?” Manuel ventured at last.

“To hell with Garmendia,” Jose shouted, leaning menacingly over the table, grasping Manuel by the collar of his shirt. “
Where is the Englishwoman?
”

Javier's hand slipped over mine, tightening, as Manuel said half defiantly, half apologetically. “Garmendia has her.”

“The hell he has!” Jose shouted, half lifting Manuel off his feet in his fury.

Romero pitched forwards, hauling Jose back, away from the half-choked Manuel.

“There was nothing we could do,” Eugenio said, desperate eyes seeking Romero's. “ We couldn't keep her here by force. Not after what she had done for Luis … she had been gone for only an hour, if that, when we got a telephone call. The man on the phone didn't identify himself, but it sounded like Alphonso Cia. He said Garmendia had kidnapped her and that her car was parked in the Rue Theire a note left in her own handwriting as proof that their claim was genuine.”

“But why?” I cried out, totally uncomprehending.

“For me,” Jose said tightly. “ That's right, isn't it, Eugenio. For me.”

“I don't understand,” I said, pressing my hands against my throbbing temples. “ Why should Garmendia kidnap her?”

Jose said quietly. “This whole disaster, right from the beginning has been because Garmendia wanted rid of me. It was Garmendia who ruined the expedition from Bayonne to Miguelou. It was Garmendia who told the police Alison's name, and it was Garmendia who shot one of the police and let us be incriminated for it. And now he wants me to meet him, and if I don't he shoots the Englishwoman, right?”

Manuel nodded, his eyes shadowed. “He says he wants to talk to you. He wants you to hand over all ETA units in your control. He wants you out of the country and unless you acquiesce.…”

“He executes Miss Daventry.”

Manuel nodded, looking nervously in my direction. “He believes you have a passion for the English girl and that the old woman is her aunt, and that for her sake you will agree to meet him.”

“
Fool!
” Jose said forcefully, running his fingers through his hair. “Of all the stupid, idiotic, crazy.…”

Romero turned from the window and said with a shrug. “Jose is leaving the country anyway. The expedition from Bayonne was to be the last thing he would do.”

“Is that true?” Antonio asked, watching Jose closely.

Jose nodded. “My home is in Argentina, not Spain. I came here because I was asked, and I stayed to help because everything was deteriorating so rapidly. But I never meant it to be permanent. Once I had reorganised things to my satisfaction I intended going home. Back to my ranch and my horses. Lindaraja is burned to the ground now, there is nothing left to hold me in Spain any longer.”

“But Miss Daventry?” I asked. “What about Miss Daventry?”

His eyes held mine and the expression in them made my body ache. “ Don't worry, little one,” he said tenderly. “ We will free her.” He turned to Manuel. “Where does Garmendia want me to meet him?”

Manuel passed him a letter. “ This was the note we found in the car.”

“Cotanes? I've never heard of it. What is it, a village?”

“It's a hamlet on the French side of the mountains. By car about two hours away.”

“Make me some coffee,” he said curtly to Eugenio. “Then I'm going.”

“But you can't!” Manuel managed at last. “ From Cotanes they can see you coming from miles away. They will easily know if you are alone or not. And Garmendia will not be alone. For heaven's sake man, to go there is to commit suicide.”

“I'm no fool,” Jose said wearily. “But I'm not going to let the Englishwoman die at the hands of two depraved psycopaths. Not after what she did for Luis.”

Antonio opened his mouth to speak, looked at me and thought better of it. I could see the dawning expression in his eyes. He was beginning to think there was truth in what Angel had said. That Jose
did
love me. The reassurance warmed and sustained me.

“You need sleep,” Romero said to his brother, but Jose said simply. “ I will sleep in the car on the way there.”

I looked at his face, deep lines etched in by pain and weariness and said desperately. “ Must you go? Is there no other way?”

We looked at each other, oblivious of the others in the room. “Yes,” he said. “ I must. But it will not take long.”

Romero drank his coffee putting the cup back on the table, saying in a firm voice. “I will drive Jose to Cotanes.”

“Fool!” Manuel said without contempt. “You have not slept either. I will drive.”

“He is my brother,” Romero said, and Manuel's eyes slid defeatedly away from him down onto the floor.

“Garmendia insists you go alone,” Antonio reminded him, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs and propping them on the corner of the table.

“So I shall,” Jose said, filling his gun with a fresh magazine of bullets. “Romero will drop me off a half mile away and I will walk the rest.”

Eugenio shook his head. “ You're mad. You're walking into a trap a child of three would avoid. Cotanes is set on a hill,” he steepled his fingers descriptively. “There is nothing around it but fields and meadows. Not even woods. Nothing to afford shelter of any kind. Garmendia and Cia will be able to see you coming from miles away and as soon as they see you leave the car, they will shoot you down. And for what?” he spread his palms uppermost. “The Englishwoman will be dead by now.…”

Jose was hardly listening to him, from outside there came the faint sound of a car approaching, and then a slight jarring noise as it halted beneath the window. Eugenio and Manuel moved fast, at the window before I had even registered the car's approach. Their tenseness relaxed as they turned away, heading for the door and stairs.

“More visitors?” Antonio asked, his feet still lazily crossed and resting on the edge of the table.

“Pedro and Carmen,” Manuel replied.

Javier grabbed my wrist as I let out a small cry and Jose, eyes brilliant, dashed from the room, hurtling down the wooden stairs.

“Take it easy, take it easy,” Javier said, trying to restrain me as I ran across to the window. A weak sun struggled through banks of cloud to warm the street and shine on the stationary, shabby car at the kerbside below. Pedro's bulky figure was clearly visible at the wheel, but it was not Pedro I was interested in.

Agitatedly I leaned against the glass, straining to see Jose emerge from the doorway of the house. Simultaneously the car door opened and Carmen stepped out, shaking her long hair away from her face, straightening up as Jose raced across the pavement and swept her up in his arms.

Javier's hand gripped my shoulder tightly as the strength left my body and I almost fell against him. I had forgotten how beautiful she was. How dark and vibrant. Jose pushed her away from him, holding her at arms length, his eyes travelling her body from head to foot as if he could never get enough of the sight of her. Her dress was of scarlet cotton, clinging closely over the high, firm breasts, the narrow waist. Her hair hung, gleaming and glossy black, swinging as Jose hugged her closely to him again. I turned away, Javier's arm still holding me, and leant back against the wall for support.

Somehow I had to live through the next few minutes, their feet were on the steps now, hurrying upwards. I took a deep breath and with legs that felt as if they belonged to someone else. I walked back towards the table and sat down. I had not been an actress, however poor, for nothing. As they burst into the room, arms around each other, faces alight, Pedro immediately behind them, I smiled. Coolly and collectedly. Somehow I returned Carmen's embrace, saw her return to Jose, clasp his hand and then make her way over to the room where Luis lay sleeping. Jose was only feet away from me, I closed my eyes. This hell would not endure forever. Soon they would be gone and I would be able to weep and suffer in privacy, till then I had my pride.…

Pedro's ruddy face was wreathed in smiles, his black beret at a jaunty angle, his paunch straining beneath a too tight belt.

Arms outspread he swept me from my chair, whirling me round and round the room, singing; “We made it! We made it! Didn't I tell you it would be easy? Ah, your courage matches your beauty … and your brains.…” he released me suddenly, flinging his beret in the air, slamming his fist on the table.

“Where are the drinks then? At least some wine Eugenio, you peasant you.…”

“Roque is dead,” I heard Eugenio say quietly as I struggled to keep my eyes from Jose's. “And Garmendia is holding the other Englishwoman hostage at Cotanes. Romero and Jose are going to free her.”

I was aware of Pedro's immediate deflation, of him sitting heavily on one of the chairs, his head in his hands, calling on the saints for help, chastising them for their injustice, but I was more aware of the swirl of Carmen's skirts returning into the room, brushing against the black leather of Jose's boots.

“You must allow me to come with you,” Javier was saying to Jose. “You owe it to me.”

“I owe you nothing,” I heard Jose say briskly, my eyes determindly downcast. “ Certainly not your death.”

And then he was walking out of the room and agonised I raised my eyes. Romero was in front of him, Javier was still protesting, and Carmen, as if he were going on an errand no more dangerous than to the shops, was walking towards Luis's room, Eugenio and Manuel watching her swaying hips in silent approval. I jumped to my feet, forgetting all my intentions of salvaging my pride, running down the steep flight of stairs after them.

“Jose!” I called breathlessly. “Jose!”

It was too late. The car was already speeding away, leaving me in a cloud of dust and dirt and exhaust fumes. I stood, hands hanging limply by my side, knowing that it was over and that somehow I had to accept it. But as I turned to Javier, my face wet with tears, I knew that as long as I lived I would never forget amber-gold eyes gazing deep into mine, and seeing in those gold-flecked depths only joy and pleasure in the holding of me, and for however brief a period of time, love.

The street was empty now and silent. Javier touched my arm gently and led me unseeingly back up the flight of steps. I was unable to think of anything beyond the fact that Jose had gone and that he was going to be killed.

Eugenio poured fresh coffee into my cup and I sat down, hands wrapped around it, trying to think clearly, to understand. The coffee was good, hot and strong and reviving. But I could think of nothing, only that Jose had gone and that there was no means for me to follow him, and that he no longer wanted me anyhow. Carmen was still with Luis and I kept my eyes averted from the door, dreading the moment that she would come out and join us.

“Don't worry,” Javier said, sitting on the edge of the table, his face, for once, unsmiling. “ Jose is no fool. He will have a plan all ready in his head. He will walk into no trap set by Garmendia.”

I remained silent, unconvinced. The inner door opened and Luis, tousel-haired and still half asleep, limped into the room. On seeing me, his dark eyes widened and then his face creased in a sudden, joyous smile.