Tapestry of Fear (2 page)

“How
dare
you! I am a British citizen. I shall report this to the Embassy tomorrow. Do … you … understand? The
British
Embassy. Yes, that is my passport and I will have it back please. Can the man speak no English? I am British and the Embassy will have something to say about this!”

Her voice carried on, outraged and dignified as they disappeared downstairs.

Miss Daventry said: “ Stay in your room, Alison. I'll come to you in a little while.”

There came the sound of Pedro bolting the door after his unwelcome guests and Miss Daventry descended the stairs, stern and resolute.

It seemed an eternity before she returned. She turned the oil lamp up and sat on the edge of the bed, her face grim.

I waited. She said sombrely: “The boat trying to reach Miguelou's harbour was the reason for all the tension today. The men on board were Basque separatists trying to smuggle guns and ammunition into Miguelou from Bayonne, in France.”

“To Angel Garmendia?”

“It looks like it.”

“No wonder there was a strained atmosphere tonight.”

“Apparently everyone was in on it, Pedro included. The idea was that the village men would distribute the weapons to all the local ETA units.”

“Were any local men on board?”

“Four. Among them Luis and Jose Villada. Jose is Carmen's fiance.”

My stomach turned an unpleasant somersault. “Are they dead?”

She shrugged despairingly. “No-one knows. Pedro was on the beach with the rest of the men waiting for the boat to land. He managed to escape and get back to the inn before the police arrived, but some of the others stayed, in case any survivors should reach shore. The police have arrested them all.”

“And Jaime?” I asked. “Was Jaime on the beach?”

She nodded. “ Pedro says he wouldn't leave, one of the men on board the boat was his cousin.”

I reached for my dressing-gown.

“And where do you think you are going?”

“To Carmen.”

She laid a hand on my arm restrainingly. “There is no point in going to her room, Alison. She is missing. Pedro doesn't know where she is. There is nothing we can do tonight. Try and get some sleep.”

She went out, shutting the door quietly behind her. I lay in the darkness, remembering again the clarity of the man's body as it hung in agony before sinking down into the foam flecked depths of the sea. I wondered if Carmen had seen it too, and recognised it. Was that why her room was empty? Sick at heart, I turned over, burying my face in the pillow, waiting for morning.

It took a long time to come. The early morning sun slowly lightened my room, but the usual sounds from the street below were absent and the inn remained still and silent. Then I heard steps on the stone stairs, and Pedro's voice, low and dull, and I dressed hurriedly. As soon as I saw his haggard face, my heart sank.

Miss Daventry was standing beside him at the semi-circle of wood that served as his desk, she turned as I approached and said simply: “Jaime is dead.”

Pedro pushed a glass into my hand, saying brokenly. “ Six men have died, six … and the police have taken nearly every man that remains away for questioning.”

“What about Javier?”

“Javier is missing. And Angel and Alphonso. Angel will be like a man demented.…”

“His brother was shot and killed on the beach.” Miss Daventry said bluntly.

Pedro turned his back to me, leaning heavily on his desk. Miss Daventry took me by the arm.

“Someone wants to see you in the kitchen.”

“Carmen? She's back?”

Miss Daventry nodded. “Yes, she's back, and refusing to talk to anyone but yourself. You had better have a word with her.”

She was sat at the scrubbed table, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She sprang to her feet as I parted the bead curtain, her face tense and strained, dark circles beneath her eyes. Her skirt was dirty and damp, the hem thick with mud, her legs scratched and bleeding. She grasped my hand urgently: “
You saw what happened?
”

“Yes. I saw everything. But where have you been?”

“Will you help me? You
must
help me. Before I tell you where I have been, promise you will help … for if you don't there is no-one else.…” her voice broke off in a strangled sob. “Pedro says the police know I was missing last night, that they have not arrested me because they are watching me … wanting me to lead them to.…” She pressed her fist to her mouth, and took a deep, steadying breath. “Please. Without your help Luis and Jose will die!”

“
They're alive?
” I asked incredulously.

She nodded. “But they are injured and I dare not go to them again, for Pedro says I will be followed.”

“Where are they?”

“I can only tell if you promise to help!” I nodded, her hand gripping mine so tight that her nails dug in my flesh. “ They swam ashore last night and I was waiting. I knew they were on the boat and I
had
to go down to the beach. Luis has been shot in the leg and Jose in the shoulder. While the police searched the village we crept along the beach and then took two of old Manuel's donkeys and climbed to Maria's cottage.”

“You mean they are
here? In the village?
” I asked aghast.

She shook her head. “ Maria only works here when Pedro needs her. She has a cottage of her own on the slopes of the mountain. Miss Daventry knows where it is. She has been there often. You must take them food and bandages.…”

“But.…”

“
You must!
Otherwise they will die! I will get the things now!”

“Maria.…” but she had already gone.

Miss Daventry came in, saying: “ Well?”

“Carmen's fiance and his brother are hiding in Maria's cottage.”

“Good.”

“It's not good at all,” I said bad-temperedly. “Both of them have been shot and Carmen says it is impossible for her to go and help, or anyone else in the village, as the police would follow. And that without help they will die.”

“And did Carmen have a solution?”

“Yes. That I should.”

“What a sensible idea, and with me to help.…”

“I don't happen to have any sympathies with terrorists, Basques or otherwise.”

“But the men are dying.” Miss Daventry protested.

A long minute went past.

“If I go. I go alone.”

“You don't know where the cottage is.…”

“Then you will go?” Pedro asked eagerly. I nodded and his face flushed with excitement. “ Then you must speak to Father Calzada.”

Minutes later the black robed priest held out a thin hand to shake.

“You are going to help us? I am grateful. If God is good, the Villada's will be in France in twenty-four hours. A boat will sail from Bayonne tonight. It will pass Miguelou and wait in the bay a little to the north. There it will pick up the Villada's.

“But if they've been shot they won't be fit to travel.”

“They will have to be,” the little priest's voice was firm.

“But the coastguard?”

“The launch is crewed by Germans. If they are stopped they are tourists, their passports are in order. Jose and Luis will be hidden. It is a risk but it is one that has to be taken. If they
are
found …” he shrugged.

“And is this the best you can come up with?” Miss Daventry asked.

“A lot of money has been spent securing the use of the boat and the men. The plan is as good as any other.”

There was a general feeling of unease. The priest locked his fingers together. “It is the only way. It must be tried.”

Miss Daventry frowned. “We will do our best then. But from what Carmen says the journey could be the death of them.”

“If they stay,” Father Calzada said quietly. “It will be the death of them.”

The cottage sheltered in splendid isolation beneath the bare and shining peaks of the mountains. Miss Daventry rapped on the door and two chaffinches flew off with a flutter of wings and a trill of reproach. Nothing happened. There was no sound of movement.

“It's obvious they won't answer unless they know who is knocking,” I said at last. I put my mouth as near the door as possible.

“We are friends. Carmen and Pedro have sent us with food and medical supplies.”

Still there was no response. I tried again: “We are English, but we want to help you. We have come for Luis and Jose Villada.”

As my words died away I could hear a slight movement from inside. Miss Daventry smiled with satisfaction. We waited expectantly. Heavy bolts at top and bottom slid back and then the door swung slowly inwards.

“What do you want?”

He was about nineteen with dark curly hair and a sullen expression on his face which did nothing to detract from his fierce good looks.

“We are friends of Carmen's. We have food and bandages.”

He opened the door wider, calling over his shoulder: “ Do you hear that, Jose?”

From the dark interior came a low reply and then he was ushering us into the cottage. Miss Daventry smiled triumphantly.

I was just about to speak to her when my arms were wrenched behind my back and someone unseen pulled me tightly against them. I cried out, and as I did so his hand covered my mouth. Unbelievingly I struggled, kicking with all my might, twisting to free myself from his grasp. I have a vague recollection of the look of stunned amazement on Miss Daventry's face, and then the boy who had opened the door to us, had his hand tightly over her mouth, pinioning her arms, dragging her out of the room.

From his gasps and curses it was obvious that Miss Daventry was not going easily and neither for that matter, was I. In a blind sea of rage I wrenched myself round, trying to unbalance him, anything, anything at all.… He swore viciously and then his hand let go of my mouth as my efforts to bite him succeeded. For one brief second I screamed and then his hand came down hard on the side of my head, sending me spinning across the stone flagged floor and smashing into the wall. My head split with pain and as I fell dizzily to the floor I saw, with distorted vision, my attacker slump down lifelessly opposite me.

My head swam and the next few moments were a blur of pain and shock. I was dimly aware that there were only the two of us in the room, and that my attacker was lying unconscious and helpless. I pressed my hands against the floor, willing myself to stand, to move.…

The inner door swung open, and the young man, minus Miss Daventry, staggered, limping, over to the apparently lifeless body. Dazedly I watched him, trying to gather my wits and my strength. I raised myself gingerly to a sitting position and he spun round.

“You stay there, understand? If you do not move you will not be hurt.”

“What have you done with my friend? Is she hurt, is.…”

The boy said sourly. “She is not hurt. Not yet.”

“You are being very silly,” I said, as the blinding pain in my head eased a little. “ If you will just listen to me a minute.…”

“
Be quiet!
” he hissed, propping his brother against the wall, steadying him as his eyes slowly opened. Hazily they focused on me and he tried to move.

“My friend is very old. What have you done with her?”

He touched his face fleetingly and I could see deep scratches gouged the length of his cheek. Miss Daventry had certainly put up a fight, but there was no sound from her now, and a new, dreadful fear engulfed me. I called out loudly: “Miss Daventry, are you all right? Can you hear me? Miss Daventry.…”

The boy limped angrily across the room towards me, his face white with pain. “
Silence! Not another word
.…”

“Miss Daven.…”

He seized my arm viciously and I was too dazed to wriggle free.

“If you promise to be quiet I will show you your friend is unharmed, right?”

I nodded, and he allowed me to rise shakily to my feet, then, still held in his grip, he propelled me towards the inner door. With my heart in my mouth I stared into the dimness beyond.

Across a rough stone floor stood an iron bed, and dumped down upon it, straw hat askew, hands and feet tied with sheeting, and firmly gagged, sat the glowering figure of Miss Daventry. Heedless of the boy's protests I ran across to the bed, pulling at the hastily tied knots of the gag, saying: “Don't scream, it's going to be all right.…”

“Just what, my dear Alison,” she said as the rag fell from her mouth, “is happening?”

“They are not as joyful to see us as you anticipated.”

“Haven't you explained?” she asked as the boy eyed us warily.

“I haven't had a chance.… I've just had my head smashed against a wall.”

“I am sure he did not mean it,” Miss Daventry said optimistically. “We probably hurt them more than they hurt us.”

“They were supposed to be helpless and at death's door.” I said, feeling the back of my head.

“Carmen's exaggeration. I am sure he will apologise. They must have had a dreadful night. The swim ashore would have been bad enough and then the journey here … and both of them injured …”

I tried to feel suitably sympathetic and failed.

“And now young man,” Miss Daventry said, turning to the boy who had been listening to us in growing bewilderment. “Please undo these knots. I cannot do anything for your leg trussed up like a Christmas turkey.”

Mesmerised, he took out a knife from his belt and did as he was told. Miss Daventry smiled with gratification, then she nimbly swung her legs off the bed and rubbed her wrists.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Miss Daventry, my friend here is Alison Russell, we are staying at the inn owned by Pedro Triana in Miguelou.” He backed away nervously. Miss Daventry continued undeterred. “Carmen told us of your predicament. She could not come back herself as the police have taken over the village and she was frightened she would be followed. Apparently one of your half drowned friends gave your names when arrested, and as your bodies have not as yet floated ashore they would like to meet you.” She rammed her hatpin firmly through the back of her boater. “ You must be Luis, the sooner you introduce me to your brother and we get to work on that wound, the better. It is festering already.”