The Time in Between A Novel

Chapter Forty-Eight

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A magnificent performance at the Hippodrome,” was his greeting to me. In spite of the apparent compliment, his face didn’t show the slightest trace of satisfaction. He was waiting for me at Dr. Rico’s office again, in the same place where we’d met months earlier to talk about my encounter with Beigbeder following his dismissal.

“I had no other choice, believe me when I say how sorry I am,” I said as I sat down. “I had no idea we were going to be watching the races from the English box. Nor that the Germans would be occupying the one right alongside us.”

“I understand. And you responded well, coolly and quickly. But you ran an extremely high risk and almost set off a completely unnecessary crisis. We can’t permit ourselves such carelessness, especially with the situation so complicated right now.”

“Are you referring to the situation in general, or to mine in particular?” I asked with an arrogant tone that I hadn’t intended.

“Both,” he declared firmly. “Look, it’s not our intention to meddle in your private life, but given what’s happened, I feel we have to bring something to your attention.”

“Gonzalo Alvarado,” I suggested.

He didn’t reply right away; first he took a few moments to light a cigarette.

“Gonzalo Alvarado, indeed,” he said after blowing out the smoke from his first drag. “What happened yesterday wasn’t an isolated incident: we know that you’ve been seen together in public places relatively often.”

“If you’re interested, let me say quite clearly before we go on that I’m not having any kind of romantic relationship with him. And as I told you yesterday, he knows nothing about my activities.”

“The precise nature of your relationship with him is an entirely private matter and in no way our concern,” he explained.

“So then?”

“I’m asking that you don’t consider this a thoughtless invasion of your private life, but you must understand that the situation right now is extremely tense and we have no choice but to warn you.” He got up and took a few steps with his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on the floor tiles as he went on talking, without looking at me. “Last week we learned that there is an active group of Spanish informers cooperating with the Germans to develop files on local Germanophiles and supporters of the Allies. They’re including information on all those Spaniards with a significant attachment to one cause or the other, as well as their degree of affiliation to them.”

“And you think I’m in one of those files.”

“We don’t think it, we know it with absolute certainty,” he said, fixing his eyes on mine. “We have collaborators who have infiltrated them and they’ve told us that you’re there among the Germanophiles. Right now you’re still uncompromised, as we might have suspected: you have copious clients related to the Nazi high command, they visit you in your workshop, you sew beautiful clothes for them, and in exchange they don’t just pay you, they also confide in you, so much so that when they’re in your house they speak absolutely freely about things they shouldn’t speak about and that you pass straight on to us.”

“And Alvarado, what does he have to do with all this?”

“He’s also in their files. But he’s on the opposite side, on the roster of citizens supportive of the British. And we’ve received news that there’s been a German order for maximum surveillance of Spanish people from certain sectors who are connected to us: bankers, businessmen, liberal professionals—citizens with means and influence who would be prepared to help our cause.”

“I imagine you know he’s no longer working, that he didn’t reopen his firm after the war,” I pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter. He has excellent relationships with members of the embassy staff and the British colony in Madrid and allows himself to be seen with them frequently. Sometimes even with me, as you will have learned yesterday. He’s very familiar with Spanish industry, which is why he advises us disinterestedly on a number of related matters. But unlike you, he isn’t an undercover agent, merely a good friend to the English people who doesn’t disguise his sympathies toward us. Which is why if you allow yourself to be seen with him too much, it might look suspicious, given that you appear in opposing files. There’s actually already been a rumor about it.”

“About what?” I asked, a little rudely.

“About what the devil someone so close to the wives of the German high command is doing letting herself be seen in public with a loyal friend to the British,” he replied with a thump on the table. Then his tone became gentler, as he immediately regretted his reaction. “Forgive me, please; we’ve all been very nervous lately, and besides, we knew you weren’t informed of the situation and couldn’t possibly have predicted the risks in advance. But trust me when I tell you that the Germans are planning a very powerful campaign to put pressure on British influence in Spain. This country is still crucial to Europe and could join the war at any moment. Actually the government is continuing to help the Axis shamelessly: they allow them to use the Spanish ports freely, they authorize mining operations wherever they please, and they’re even using Republican prisoners to work on military construction that could help with a possible German attack on Gibraltar.”

He stubbed out his cigarette and was silent for a few moments, concentrating on what he was doing. Then he went on.

“In the current circumstances we are at a clear disadvantage, and the last thing we want is to complicate matters even further,” he said slowly. “Months ago the Gestapo launched a series of threatening actions that have already borne fruit: your friend Mrs. Fox, for example, had to leave Spain because of them. And regrettably there have been several other such cases: to take one close-to-home example, the old embassy doctor, who was a very good friend of mine. From now on, things are looking worse still. More direct and aggressive. More dangerous.”

I didn’t interrupt, I just watched, waiting for him to end his explanations.

“I don’t know if you understand the extent to which you’re compromised and exposed,” he added, lowering his voice. “Arish Agoriuq has become a very well-known figure among the German women living in Madrid, but if they start to see some wavering in your position as was almost the case yesterday, you could find yourself implicated in highly undesirable situations. And that’s no good. Neither for you, nor for us.”

I got up from my seat and walked over toward a window but didn’t dare approach it all the way. With my back to Hillgarth, I looked through the glass into the distance. The branches of the trees, filled with leaves, reached the height of the second story. It was still light—the evenings were already getting long. I tried to consider the implications of what I’d just heard. Despite the grim outlook, I wasn’t afraid.

“I think it would be best for me to stop collaborating with you,” I said at last without looking at him. “We’d avoid problems and live more peacefully. You, me, everybody.”

“Not at all,” he protested firmly behind me. “All I’ve just said was merely by way of prevention and as a warning for the future. We have no doubt of your ability to adapt when the time comes. But under no circumstances do we want to lose you, especially not now when we need you somewhere new.”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, astonished, turning around.

“We have another mission. We’ve received a request to collaborate, coming directly from London. Although in the beginning we were considering other options, in view of what happened this weekend we’ve decided to assign it to you. Do you think your assistant could take care of your workshop for a couple of weeks?”

“Well . . . I don’t know . . . perhaps . . . ,” I stammered.

“I’m sure she can. Put the word out among your clients that you’re going to be away for a while.”

“Where do I tell them I’m going to be?”

“There’s no need to lie, just tell them the truth: that you have some business to attend to in Lisbon.”