CHAPTER 32
OnthatsamenightinMadridthereweremanypeopleattheHotelGaylord.Acarpulledupundertheporte-cochereofthehotel,itsheadlightspaintedoverwithbluecalcimineandalittlemaninblackridingboots,grayridingbreechesandashort,grayhigh-buttonedjacketsteppedoutandreturnedthesaluteofthetwosentriesasheopenedthedoor,noddedtothesecretpolicemanwhosatattheconcierge’sdeskandsteppedintotheelevator.Thereweretwosentriesseatedonchairsinsidethedoor,oneoneachsideofthemarbleentrancehall,andtheseonlylookedupasthelittlemanpassedthematthedooroftheelevator.Itwastheirbusinesstofeeleveryonetheydidnotknowalongtheflanks,underthearmpits,andoverthehippocketstoseeifthepersonenteringcarriedapistoland,ifhedid,havehimcheckitwiththeconcierge.Buttheyknewtheshortmaninridingbootsverywellandtheyhardlylookedupashepassed.
TheapartmentwherehelivedinGaylord’swascrowdedasheentered.Peopleweresittingandstandingaboutandtalkingtogetherasinanydrawingroomandthemenandthewomenweredrinkingvodka,whiskeyandsoda,andbeerfromsmallglassesfilledfromgreatpitchers.Fourofthemenwereinuniform.Theothersworewindbreakersorleatherjacketsandthreeofthefourwomenweredressedinordinarystreetdresseswhilethefourth,whowashaggardlythinanddark,woreasortofseverelycutmilitiawoman’suniformwithaskirtwithhighbootsunderit.
Whenhecameintotheroom,Karkovwentatoncetothewomanintheuniformandbowedtoherandshookhands.ShewashiswifeandhesaidsomethingtoherinRussianthatnoonecouldhearandforamomenttheinsolencethathadbeeninhiseyesasheenteredtheroomwasgone.Thenitlightedagainashesawthemahoganycoloredheadandthelove-lazyfaceofthewell-constructedgirlwhowashismistressandhestrodewithshort,precisestepsovertoherandbowedandshookherhandinsuchawaythatnoonecouldtellitwasnotamimicryofhisgreetingtohiswife.Hiswifehadnotlookedafterhimashewalkedacrosstheroom.Shewasstandingwithatall,good-lookingSpanishofficerandtheyweretalkingRussiannow.
“Yourgreatloveisgettingalittlefat,”Karkovwassayingtothegirl.“Allofourheroesarefatteningnowasweapproachthesecondyear.”Hedidnotlookatthemanhewasspeakingof.
“Youaresouglyyouwouldbejealousofatoad,”thegirltoldhimcheerfully.ShespokeinGerman.“CanIgowiththeetotheoffensivetomorrow?”
“No.Noristhereone.”
“Everyoneknowsaboutit,”thegirlsaid.“Don’tbesomysterious.Doloresisgoing.IwillgowithherorCarmen.Manypeoplearegoing.”
“Gowithwhoeverwilltakeyou,”Karkovsaid.“Iwillnot.”
Thenheturnedtothegirlandaskedseriously,“Whotoldtheeofit?Beexact.”
“Richard,”shesaidasseriously.
Karkovshruggedhisshouldersandleftherstanding.
“Karkov,”amanofmiddleheightwithagray,heavy,saggingface,puffedeyepouchesandapendulousunder-lipcalledtohiminadyspepticvoice.“Haveyouheardthegoodnews?”
Karkovwentovertohimandthemansaid,“Ionlyhaveitnow.Nottenminutesago.Itiswonderful.AlldaythefascistshavebeenfightingamongthemselvesnearSegovia.Theyhavebeenforcedtoquellthemutinieswithautomaticrifleandmachine-gunfire.Intheafternoontheywerebombingtheirowntroopswithplanes.”
“Yes?”askedKarkov.
“Thatistrue,”thepuffy-eyedmansaid.“Doloresbroughtthenewsherself.ShewasherewiththenewsandwasinsuchastateofradiantexultationasIhaveneverseen.Thetruthofthenewsshonefromherface.Thatgreatface——”hesaidhappily.
“Thatgreatface,”Karkovsaidwithnotoneinhisvoiceatall.
“Ifyoucouldhaveheardher,”thepuffy-eyedmansaid.“Thenewsitselfshonefromherwithalightthatwasnotofthisworld.Inhervoiceyoucouldtellthetruthofwhatshesaid.IamputtingitinanarticleforIzvestia.ItwasoneofthegreatestmomentsofthewartomewhenIheardthereportinthatgreatvoicewherepity,compassionandtruthareblended.Goodnessandtruthshinefromherasfromatruesaintofthepeople.NotfornothingisshecalledLaPasionaria.”
“Notfornothing,”Karkovsaidinadullvoice.“YoubetterwriteitforIzvestianow,beforeyouforgetthatlastbeautifullead.”
“Thatisawomanthatisnottojokeabout.Notevenbyacyniclikeyou,”thepuffyeyedmansaid.“Ifyoucouldhavebeenheretohearherandtoseeherface.”
“Thatgreatvoice,”Karkovsaid.“Thatgreatface.Writeit,”hesaid.“Don’ttellittome.Don’twastewholeparagraphsonme.Goandwriteitnow.”
“Notjustnow.”
“Ithinkyou’dbetter,”Karkovsaidandlookedathim,andthenlookedaway.Thepuffy-eyedmanstoodthereacoupleofminutesmoreholdinghisglassofvodka,hiseyes,puffyastheywere,absorbedinthebeautyofwhathehadseenandheardandthenhelefttheroomtowriteit.
Karkovwentovertoanothermanofaboutforty-eight,whowasshort,chunky,jovial-lookingwithpaleblueeyes,thinningblondhairandagaymouthunderabristlyyellowmoustache.Thismanwasinuniform.HewasadivisionalcommanderandhewasaHungarian.
“WereyouherewhentheDoloreswashere?”Karkovaskedtheman.
“Yes.”
“Whatwasthestuff?”
“Somethingaboutthefascistsfightingamongthemselves.Beautifuliftrue.”
“Youhearmuchtalkoftomorrow.”
“Scandalous.AllthejournalistsshouldbeshotaswellasmostofthepeopleinthisroomandcertainlytheintriguingGermanunmentionableofaRichard.WhoevergavethatSundayfügglercommandofabrigadeshouldbeshot.Perhapsyouandmeshouldbeshottoo.Itispossible,”theGenerallaughed.“Don’tsuggestitthough.”
“ThatisathingIneverliketotalkabout,”Karkovsaid.“ThatAmericanwhocomesheresometimesisoverthere.Youknowtheone,Jordan,whoiswiththepartizangroup.Heistherewherethisbusinesstheyspokeofissupposedtohappen.”
“Well,heshouldhaveareportthroughonittonightthen,”theGeneralsaid.“Theydon’tlikemedownthereorI’dgodownandfindoutforyou.HeworkswithGolzonthis,doesn’the?You’llseeGolztomorrow.”
“Earlytomorrow.”
“Keepoutofhiswayuntilit’sgoingwell,”theGeneralsaid.“HehatesyoubastardsasmuchasIdo.Thoughhehasamuchbettertemper.”
“Butaboutthis——”
“Itwasprobablythefascistshavingmanoeuvres,”theGeneralgrinned.“Well,we’llseeifGolzcanmanceuvrethemalittle.LetGolztryhishandatit.WemanoeuvredthematGuadalajara.”
“Ihearyouaretravellingtoo,”Karkovsaid,showinghisbadteethashesmiled.TheGeneralwassuddenlyangry.
“Andmetoo.Nowisthemouthonme.Andonallofusalways.Thisfilthysewingcircleofgossip.Onemanwhocouldkeephismouthshutcouldsavethecountryifhebelievedhecould.”
“YourfriendPrietocankeephismouthshut.”
“Buthedoesn’tbelievehecanwin.Howcanyouwinwithoutbeliefinthepeople?”
“Youdecidethat,”Karkovsaid.“Iamgoingtogetalittlesleep.”
Heleftthesmoky,gossip-filledroomandwentintothebackbedroomandsatdownonthebedandpulledhisbootsoff.Hecouldstillhearthemtalkingsoheshutthedoorandopenedthewindow.Hedidnotbothertoundressbecauseattwoo’clockhewouldbestartingforthedrivebyColmenar,Cerceda,andNavacerradauptothefrontwhereGolzwouldbeattackinginthemorning.