Medusa

Anger, a feeling of desperation, of inadequacy almost, came over me, not knowing where she was or what to do. I got some food for the dog. He was hungry as well as thirsty. The fact that he hadn’t been able to contain himself might be partly nerves, but clearly he’d been shut up for some time, so whatever had happened to Soo had happened quite a few hours back. I cleared up the mess in the bedroom, moving about in a daze, wondering all the time where she was, what had happened. I found myself back in the front room, in the office, staring out at the dark glimmer of the water. The dog was pawing at my trousers.

I took it down the stairs and out into the road, where it did what it had to while I stared across the water to the lit outline of the frigate. A bell sounded above the cliffs in Villa Carlos. I glanced at my watch, scooped up the dog and ran back up the stairs. The news was already being read as I switched on the radio, the announcer in the middle of saying that the self-styled President of Menorca had called upon Moscow to recognise the new island republic and provide immediate assistance in dealing with dissident elements endeavouring to impose what was described as ‘a reactionary fascist regime centred on the old capital, Ciudadela’.

I switched to the World Service where it was now the lead story, the announcer listing a whole series of countries who had been asked to recognise the island republic. So far only Libya and Albania had complied. Madrid had still not taken any positive action, but there was clearly intense activity on the political front. The Spanish ambassador had been to the Kremlin and it was reported that the Government had called upon all EEC countries to assist in maintaining Spanish sovereignty over the Balearic Islands. More practically, Spanish Navy ships in Barcelona had been put on alert and parachutists were standing by.

But, listening to that news, it was clear everybody was waiting upon Moscow, and Moscow was saying nothing, for the moment. Towards the end there was a reference to a British frigate being on a courtesy visit to the island, and the Foreign Secretary, in answer to a question in the House, had made a statement to the effect that if the ship was molested in any way the Captain would be fully entitled to take any action he felt appropriate. In other words, the responsibility for anything which might happen was Gareth’s. No wonder the poor devil had asked us to pray for him!

Comments followed from BBC reporters in various capitals, but by then I was on the phone, enquiring about Soo. The Renatos first, but they were out and the others I contacted knew nothing. In desperation I tried the hospital, but the line was either engaged or out of order. I went down the stairs again. The store was locked and no sign of Ramón. But he had been there that morning for he had signed out paint, varnish and anti-fouling to Rodriguez who was the only one left working on the boats. Life went on, it seemed.

I returned to the office, put the typewriter back on the desk and sat there staring out of the window to the lit frigate, wondering what the hell had happened here, where they had taken her, and why — why, for God’s sake? Until I knew that… A door slammed, feet on the stairs, and before she burst in I knew who it was. ‘Thank God you’re here,’ she cried. ‘I’ve been searching everywhere. Have you found her?’

‘No. When did you discover she had gone?’

‘This afternoon. Some time around four.’ And she added, speaking breathlessly, ‘Soo was all right this morning. We had breakfast together.’ She had come straight here, she said, after leaving Lennie and myself at the pontoon and had phoned, first the Military HQ, then the Naval Base. ‘I don’t think it did any good. It took so long to get hold of anybody in authority.’ She sank into the armchair by the window. ‘God! I’m tired now. What do you think happened? The typewriter was on the floor, that chair broken, everything a mess. She’d put up a fight before they could drag her away. Who were they? Have you any idea?’ Her eyes bulged as she stared at me. ‘No, of course you haven’t.’

‘Did you go into the bedroom?’ I asked.

‘Yes, of course. I searched the whole house.’

‘You didn’t see the dog?’

‘No.’

So the poor little beast had been so scared at what had happened it must have hidden itself under the bed. ‘And there was no mess?’ She shook her head. ‘Then it looks as though they came for her late morning, around lunchtime.’

‘Yes, but who?’ She was slumped there, staring miserably at the water below, her big capable hands folded in her lap. One of the side zippers of her jeans had slipped to show a little bulge of brown flesh. She was as swarthy as an Indian. ‘The police or these new people? Do they know you’re back, here in Mahon? There must be a reason. There’s always a reason.’

‘We’ll know in due course.’ A note of resignation had crept into my voice.