Medusa

He couldn’t tell me anything more and when I put the phone down I sat there at the desk for a moment, gazing out towards La Mola and the Mahon entrance four miles away and wondering where the Santa Maria was now, what Evans was up to. I could just see Thunderflash, her white hulls and sails outlined against the hazy shape of Lazareto Island. Once they were clear of Punta del Esperó, the easternmost tip of La Mola, they would have a beam wind and a fast run to Cape Faváritx, then only five miles and all downhill to Macaret at the entrance to Port d’Addaia. Perhaps I should have arranged for them to put into Es Grau, but the entrance was very narrow and overlooked by almost every house in the little fishing village. In any case, I hadn’t known then that Evans had sailed, and even if he did intend to spend the night at the villa on Punta Codolar he would probably anchor the Santa Maria in Arenal d’en Castell. It would be very sheltered there in an easterly blow. A picture flashed through my mind then of him opening a can of beer, or sitting down to a quick meal, at the table in that kitchen with the gun he thought was still on board the catamaran right there under the floorboards at his feet.

Soo came in then with the news that the council had been in session at the ayuntamiento most of the day. Nothing had been decided and there was talk of a local election.

I finished my packing and took her to the Atlante, the restaurant a few doors away, for an early meal. Sitting there, drinking vino verde as an aperitif, we discussed the possible choices that a newly elected council would have. But even we, whose interests were identical, could not agree — I favoured Gonzalez Renato, while Soo wanted Antonio Alvarez to be the next alcalde, chiefly I think because he would support a progressive building and development policy.

It was just as the waiter was serving our marinated sardines that the door opened and a small man in a brightly coloured short-sleeved shirt, and wearing a red floppy hat pulled down over his ears, looked in. He said something to Manuel, the patron, glanced quickly across at us, nodded and then left. ‘Who was that?’ I asked the waiter, conscious suddenly that I had seen the man lounging against one of the bollards when I’d come back from seeing Carp and Luis off in Thunderflash.

The waiter hesitated, looking at Manuel and repeating the question. Manuel in his turn looked uneasy, as though reluctant to be drawn into giving me any information about the man. ‘Vigilancia?’ I asked him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. The Cuerpo de Vigilancia were plain-clothes security police and like the Guardia Civil they were paramilitary and came under the direct control of the Provincial Governor. The fact that they had me under surveillance was confirmation, if I needed any, that I should get out while the going was good. Also it suggested that the killing of Martinez was regarded by the authorities as something more than just an isolated terrorist incident.

I suppose I had fallen silent after the door had closed on the man and Manuel had confirmed he was one of the Vigilancia. Certainly my mind was concentrated on the future, on what life held in store for me — for both of us. ‘Eat up,’ Soo said, ‘these sardines are delicious.’ And then, almost in the same breath, ‘What will you do when you get there? How long will you stay? Have you decided yet?’

It was a strange meal, both of us trying to look ahead, and at one stage, when we were sitting over our coffee and a large Soberano, I had the distinct impression that she was flying something close to a flag of seduction. Soo was odd that way, always had been. I think it was the Maltese in her. She was so volatile in her emotions, one minute cold as ice, the next minute … I remember we sat there like a couple of lovers, gazing into each other’s eyes and actually holding hands across the table, clinking our brandy glasses.

God almighty! Why can’t people be more sensible, more consistent? And why the hell was I so set on a son? What would a son do for me? You change its nappies, see it through all those infantile diseases, watch it teething and grow up, and the next thing it’s borrowing the parental bed to poke a girl or getting high on drugs, or worse still, standing for cap’n in place of Dad, waiting for the old sod to drop dead.