A Dead Man in Barcelona Page 17

  ‘I met his sister. Charming lady. Very businesslike. But –’ ‘And did he not sometimes come over here?’

  ‘To Barcelona? Yes. Yes, occasionally. The docks. We sometimes used to meet over business in the docks. The Lockharts have an office there. And once I invited him round to our place for lunch.’

  Once, thought Seymour? Was the whole edifice of Abou’s hopes built on one casual visit only?

  ‘It seemed kind to. He always struck me as being rather on his own.’

  ‘He was probably feeling rather lost. Had he been to Barcelona before?’

  ‘Once or twice. But then he was here for a week or so just before Señor Lockhart died. Business was building up, I suppose. He was here during Tragic Week. You know about Tragic Week? It must have been quite a shock to him. But, of course, if you were doing business at the docks, that was just the time when you needed to be there. And then, of course, when poor Señor Lockhart died, he was here a lot. He had to step in for a considerable while.’

  ‘And when Señor Lockhart was in prison – you know he was put in prison?’

  ‘Along with a lot of other people.’

  ‘Yes, along with a lot of others. Was Abou about then?’

  ‘I never quite understood what happened during that week. Or what Lockhart was doing. They tell me he was out on the streets. In the middle of all that! It seems crazy to me. But I suppose he felt – felt that the bullet would not hit him. A dangerous assumption, that.’

  ‘But, of course, it didn’t. Or doesn’t seem to have done. He was just arrested.’

  ‘Well, I think he was lucky,’ said Señor Vasquez. ‘And, I am afraid, rather foolhardy.’

  ‘Was Abou in Barcelona at that point?’

  ‘I think he came over later in the week. The office probably sent for him. Well, there was business to attend to, down at the docks, and I don’t think Lockhart was paying much attention to that. Or perhaps that was how their manager felt, so he sent for help and Abou came over. Just in time. Because then Lockhart was arrested.’

  ‘Señor, Señor!’

  It was the Chief of Police who was hailing him. He came up to Seymour and took him by the arm.

  ‘Señor, I have to speak to you. To correct an impression you may have received. It is a false impression, Señor. You know what women are! They talk, they talk, and they embroider. It was not like what she said to you the other day. It is not, believe me, the way she pretended it was. It is a game with her, Señor. She likes to tease me. What she said, however, was not true.

  ‘All the stuff about Señor Lockhart! It is true that she knew him. Well, she’d met him once or twice. But not the rest of it. About him and her. She says it sometimes, but that is just to provoke me. And so it was on this occasion. She was showing off to you, and trying to annoy me. I could hear what she was saying, and she was speaking loudly enough for me to hear. She wanted me to hear.

  ‘She does that. Makes comparisons. To my disadvantage. Romantic, she used to call him. “He has the spirit of a true romantic,” she said to me once. “He has the spirit of a true trouble-maker,” I said. “Unlike you, Alonzo,” she said. “You have no spirit of romance.” “I have better things to do,” I said. “Like sitting in a bar,” she said.

  ‘“Anyway, it’s not true,” I said. “I have a spirit of romance. I like the flamenco girls as much as anyone.” “This is quite different,” she said. “That is sex, not romance. At least, in your case. I never said you were without appetite, Alonzo. Performance may not always be up to scratch, especially after you’ve had a few drinks, but I have never said that you were without appetite. However, it is of the earth, earthy. Like the peasant that you are at heart, Alonzo. You do not lift your eyes from the furrows that you hope to plough, as in the case of the flamenco girls. Whereas Sam Lockhart –”

  ‘“– had an appetite, too,” I cut in.

  ‘“No doubt about that,” she said, laughing. “Well, you wouldn’t want a man without one, would you? Or where would women be? But the point is, a woman looks for something more than appetite. A man who brings colour into her life. A man who has dreams. A man whose horizons extend beyond that of the nearest bar.”

  ‘“If all men limited their horizons to the nearest bar,” I said, “there wouldn’t be half the trouble that there is.”

  ‘“And there wouldn’t be half the excitement that there is,” she said. “And the world would be a much duller place.”

  ‘“My job is to keep it dull,” I said.

  ‘“And mine, I think,” she said, “is to liven it up a little. You stand for order. But I am coming to think I have a little too much order in my life. I want to kick over the traces. I need a bit of disorder.”

  ‘“You have the spirit of a cabezudo,” I said.

  ‘She laughed. “You know,” she said, “I think you could be right. The trouble is, you want to put all the cabezudos in jail.”

  ‘“Well, I do. The world would be a better place without them.”

  ‘“Well, thanks!” she said.

  ‘“But not you, Constanza,” I said quickly. “I make an exception for you.”

  ‘“You may be wrong in that,” she said.’

  In the little harbour the boats were busy. They would soon be putting out to sea for the night’s fishing. The fishermen were checking their nets. Seymour walked round apparently casually but listening carefully.

  They were all talking Catalan. It was as he had expected. Nevertheless, he went near to each one, near enough to hear. Then, when he had finished, he went up to the fish market, mostly deserted now, but with some people washing down the tables. He listened there, too, but it was the same. They were all speaking Catalan.

  He tried the café, sitting at a table with Chantale, and slowly drinking coffee. This was the quiet time of the day for them and the waitresses, in their rough, casual jerseys, were just chatting.

  At last he heard a voice which was plainly not Catalan. It belonged to an older woman, tired and thin, perhaps the wife of one of the fishermen about to go out, supplementing his earnings by a little casual work on her part. He waited for a chance when he could catch her on her own and then said quietly:

  ‘I’m looking for Ramon’s widow. Can you tell me where I can find her?’

  She gave a little jump.

  ‘Ramon?’ she said.

  ‘You know of him?’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ she said. Then she started to turn away. ‘I cannot help you,’ she said.

  ‘It is for the family,’ said Seymour.

  ‘Are you police?’

  ‘I’m from outside,’ said Seymour. ‘I’m English. Can’t you hear?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘It is for the family, as I said.’

  She still hesitated.

  ‘Did you know Lockhart?’

  ‘Si. I know of him. I know he gave her money.’

  ‘Well, then.’

  She looked around. ‘They do not speak of Ramon around here.’

  ‘Just the wife. A word. I mean no harm to her or to anybody here.’

  ‘Very well, then.’ She gave him an address. ‘It’s just up from the harbour. Next to the shop with the nets.’

  A careworn woman opened the door.

  ‘Señora Ramon?’

  She looked at him apprehensively, but then was reassured when she saw Chantale.

  ‘Can I have a word with you? It is not about Ramon but about another man. An Englishman. His name was Lockhart. I am English, too, and want to know about him.’

  ‘He helped us,’ she said. ‘He gave us money.’

  ‘Why?’ said Seymour.

  ‘Because he was like that. He helped many people.’

  ‘Fishermen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And yet he helped you. Was not that a surprising thing to do? In view of what had passed? Was he not close to the fishermen?’

  ‘He was, yes.’

  ‘And had many dealings with them? Let us not say what the
dealings were.’

  ‘He had much to do with them, yes.’

  ‘Was it not surprising, then, that he should go out of his way to help you?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘But . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I think he felt sorry for us,’ she said.

  ‘About Ramon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He wasn’t with the fishermen on this?’

  ‘He felt they had gone too far. That it wasn’t necessary. They could have just warned him off, couldn’t they?’ she said bitterly. ‘It is not just the man who is punished but the family.’

  ‘Would he have heeded the warning?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘He was stubborn,’ she said. ‘And we were desperate. He doesn’t come from these parts. He’s from Andalusia. They wouldn’t have let him in, only I’m from here. From the harbour. My father was one of them. So they let him in, but they didn’t like it. They felt I shouldn’t have married someone from outside. And maybe they were right, for he didn’t see things the way they did.’

  ‘About the smuggling?’

  ‘The smuggling was all right. It was what they smuggled.’

  ‘Guns?’

  She nodded. ‘He said guns were a different thing. And why should he risk himself, and us, for them? It was not his cause, he said. Well, they didn’t like it, but they would probably have let it go. But he was seen talking to someone known as a police agent. So they said, “He is going to betray us.”’

  ‘And was he going to?’

  ‘We were desperate,’ she said simply. ‘They didn’t let us have good places. We always had to fish where it was bad, and so he didn’t catch much, and the children went hungry. And he became angry.’

  ‘And then they killed him.’

  ‘Yes. They are bitter men around here. I told him, and what they could do. “I am a bitter man, too.” he said. “Poverty makes bitter men.” But I knew what we were like.’

  ‘I am sorry that they killed him,’ said Seymour.

  She shrugged.

  ‘I think Lockhart was,’ she said. ‘And that was why he helped us.’

  ‘He, too, was killed,’ said Seymour.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I am trying to find out who killed him.’

  ‘You won’t find out,’ she said. ‘Any more than they will find out who killed Ramon.’

  She looked at Chantale. ‘And you, too, lady, had best be careful. You are not from these parts. And they do not like people who come from outside.’

  ‘And yet they liked Lockhart,’ said Seymour.

  ‘He had money. And they were told he was on their side.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. He liked the Catalans, it was said. But did he like all Catalans? Did he like people like them? He was angry about Ramon. They didn’t like that.

  ‘Well, now he is dead, too. Life is cheap on this coast. A fisherman’s life is hard. It looks calm and sunny, and so it is during the day. But in the night a man can easily go overboard. The nets, you see, are heavy, and a sudden lurch can pull you. I know this because I have lived in this harbour all my life and so did my father before me, and his father. And both of them died early.’

  * * *

  ‘A farewell drink?’ said Seymour, and led Ricardo into a bar.

  ‘Farewell?’

  Seymour nodded. ‘I shall soon be leaving you. In a way, it is a pity, because I would like to see if Catalonia succeeds.’

  ‘It certainly will,’ said Ricardo confidently.

  ‘It may, however, take some time,’ said Seymour.

  ‘We can wait.’

  ‘I am afraid you may have to. Did not Tragic Week teach you this?’

  ‘What I learned from Tragic Week was that next time we should have more guns.’

  ‘Enough guns to fight an army?’ Seymour shook his head. ‘That is a lot of guns. Especially without Lockhart.’

  ‘We didn’t get that many guns from Lockhart.’

  ‘Someone told me that his enthusiasm was falling off anyway.’

  Ricardo looked at him quickly.

  ‘That is not true,’ he said.

  ‘Isn’t it? Someone told me he had been very unhappy about Ramon.’

  ‘We were all unhappy about Ramon.’

  ‘Lockhart felt, I gather, that it was unnecessary.’

  ‘Some people argued that. I myself may have felt that. But those who were close to it were sure that he was going to tell everything. And you have to understand that for them it was not a game. Their livelihood depended on it. Their lives, even. Yes, they were devoted to the Catalan cause. But once they had got involved, it went deeper. They had put their families, their children, at risk. That’s what I told him. It is not just a matter of romantic enthusiasm for a cause, I said. At some point it bites deeper. You have to be prepared to make sacrifices.

  ‘Well, he flushed at that. “You don’t think I’m serious?” he said. “No, it’s not that,” I said. “I think you are serious. But you’re not serious like us.” “Because I’m not Catalan?” he said. “You can’t be,” I said. “Don’t think we’re not grateful. But in the end this is something we would kill for if we had to. And it’s not like that for you. It can’t be.” “I will show you,” he said.

  ‘Well, I didn’t quite know what he meant by that. He would give us more money, perhaps? But I don’t think that was what he had in mind. I think what he had in mind was what he did during Tragic Week. He went out on the streets and risked his life. Yes, I’m sure it was so that he could bear witness and perhaps stop some of the worst things from happening. That would be just the sort of Quixotic thing he would think of. But I think it was also to demonstrate that he was not afraid, that he was not some pussy-footing do-gooder, but was prepared to risk himself, like us. That he was, in a way, serious.

  ‘And at first when I saw him out there I didn’t mind. This will really bring home to him, I thought, what it’s all about. He will see what we suffer and what they do to us. And then, maybe his feet will warm up. Because, yes, you’re right, he was beginning to get cold feet. He wasn’t so ready with his cash. “What are you going to do with the guns,” he said, “when you get them? Kill more Ramones?” So, yes, he was beginning to get cold feet, and I thought that maybe what he saw during Tragic Week would stiffen his purpose. So I didn’t mind, I didn’t think he would be killed, of course. I didn’t even think he would be put in prison. They don’t usually put rich people in prison here, I thought they would have seen him and said, he’s not doing any harm. Just another of those do-gooding, well-meaning nuts.

  ‘Even when I heard that he had been put in prison, I didn’t mind. That will bring it home to him, too, I said to myself. Because our prisons are not exactly holiday homes. He’ll learn now, I thought, what the real world is like.

  ‘And then, Christ, when I heard that he was dead, I couldn’t believe it! Even him, I thought! Those bastards!

  ‘So there you are, Señor Seymour. You’ve obviously been asking around and you’ve learned a few things. And maybe Ramon sticks in your gullet a bit, as it did in Lockhart’s. But what you’ve got to realize is that this is Catalonia not England. You come from a country where life is easy. Well, it isn’t here!’

  ‘I came out here,’ said Seymour, ‘to find out who killed Lockhart. Not to take sides.’

  ‘You do have to take sides,’ said Ricardo. ‘That is why he died.’

  ‘Well, is it?’ said Seymour.

  ‘Is it?’ said Ricardo, taken aback.

  ‘Ever since I have been here,’ said Seymour, ‘people have been pushing me to take sides. That is the explanation, they said, the explanation for Lockhart’s death, the explanation for everything. Catalans, Arabs, anarchists – even the Spanish. They all invited me to take sides and often that is an explanation. But I don’t believe that it is.’

  ‘You don’t?’ said Ricardo. He seemed stupefied.

  ‘Let me put a case to you. Where your own arguments lead yo
u, if you like. We know that Lockhart supported the Catalans. We know that he supplied money and contacts to enable them to buy guns – you, yourself, have told me this. Now we know, I think, that there was some kind of arrangement for them to be smuggled in by sea. Fishing boats would go out at night and pick them up from bigger boats lying offshore. We know that the Spanish authorities had got wind of this arrangement, and that Ramon was going to tell them more, perhaps all. And we know that Ramon was killed in order to stop that happening.

  ‘We know also that Lockhart did not like that. He was angry. In fact, he was very angry. So what was he going to do about it? Because he was the sort of person, so several people have told me, who translated belief into action. When he believed something, he liked to do something about it. So what might he have been going to do about this?

  ‘We know he had become lukewarm about the Catalan cause. He still, perhaps, believed in it and, as you say, he wanted to show you that he did, and so he went out into the streets during Tragic Week. But that was to show you that he wasn’t the man you were taking him for, just a – what was it you said? – a pussy-footing do-gooder. That, though, was a side issue. The real issue for him was what he was going to do about what he knew – that the Catalan fishermen had killed an innocent man.

  ‘Well, of course, one of the things he might have done was to do a Ramon. Tell what he knew. And he had quite a bit to tell – about the arms and the sources of arms, about how they were transported, in what boats, and how they were brought ashore. And doesn’t the same argument apply to Lockhart as it did to Ramon? If he told what he knew, wouldn’t a lot of people suffer?’

  ‘What are you saying?’ said Ricardo, a thin spot of red appearing in his cheeks.

  ‘Might not those who were involved have taken the same action with respect to Lockhart as they had done with respect to Ramon?’

  ‘Killed him?’

  ‘You said it.’

  Ricardo rose from the table.

  ‘I was a friend of Lockhart’s,’ he said. ‘We were all his friends. He came to us and volunteered to help us. He did help us. I saw him out on the streets during Tragic Week. He was out there for us. Not just for us, maybe. But he was out there. When the bullets were flying. And if you think that any of us would have killed him, let me tell you, you are mistaken.’