The problem did exist of getting across the French border and he worried about the land route, even though Juan Luis assured him the crossing was controlled by the CNT — with the communists complaining about their fighters being blocked from crossing into Spain. That was still a place where the communists were bound to have a presence, and how comprehensive that could be he did not know; they might well check the names on every passport by bribing the French border guards, just to ensure they knew who was coming and going.
The look in the anarchist’s eye that implied he was taking caution too far he declined to respond to — it was his habit to always overdo safety where possible — but there was another consideration: going out would be easy, the French would be lax about that, coming back would not. Besides, the land route was long and would involve several changes of train once in France.
The solution was a boat, one of the many abandoned in the harbour by the owners who had fled Barcelona and scooted to the Nationalist side of the divide. They had not been left to rust but had provided an opportunity for the kind of men who may well have made their living smuggling before the war in less salubrious craft — he did not enquire.
All Cal needed to do was to get to a landfall close to Marseilles, and without any details as to who he was and why, with people who had already paid the necessary douceurs to the overburdened French customs men to be allowed to trade — not a problem on a long coastline dotted with tiny fishing ports near-impossible to police. These were places that had been involved in smuggling ever since tariffs were invented, close to a city in which he had spent some of his formative years, and known to be the crime capital of France.
Once there, it was a simple train journey to his destination, much of it spent in the dining car.
His first impression of Monaco was that it was beginning to recover some of its gloss, which, like the whole of the Riviera, had been knocked by the Great Depression. At one time the winter watering hole of the British upper crust and American millionaires, they had found their pounds and dollars, of which they had less to disburse, insufficient to spend several months avoiding the weather back home, gambling merrily away at the casino.
The man he had come to see had saved that establishment from bankruptcy and it was possible he still owned it, though he never went there or gambled at the tables. No one knew for certain; Sir Basil Zaharoff’s dealings were always clouded in secrecy whatever activity he engaged in.
Drouhin’s face was grave as he came to greet Cal, nodding to the rather burly servant who had stood by him that it was safe to depart; in the house of a man who, for all that he was long retired, had dealt in arms for decades and was known by the soubriquet of ‘The Merchant of Death’, while searching a visitor for the means to assassinate the owner would not do, no one was trusted to be left alone.
‘Monsieur Jardine.’ Cal shook his hand; he did not really know the man, having met him only briefly on a previous visit, but he knew that Sir Basil trusted him absolutely, so he could do so too. ‘My patron is sleeping at the moment, but if you will, we can take a drink on the terrace and you can outline your needs to me.’
‘How ill is he?’
‘It is serious, monsieur,’ Drouhin replied, his face sad, his eyes quickly turning lachrymose, while he rather embarrassingly crossed himself; that, however, told Cal Jardine that whatever assailed the old man was likely to be terminal. ‘He is still lucid when awake and has particularly made a point of his desire to see you.’
‘I’m grateful.’
‘My patron has a high regard for you, monsieur,’ Drouhin replied, as they exited onto a terrace with a magnificent view of the harbour, with Cal wondering why that should be. ‘He is most anxious that, if we can assist you, we should.’
There were courtesies to get out of the way while they waited for a servant to bring a tray of coffee — how was your journey, the weather, etc, which, contrary to the British view, is an international obsession, not just one on which Albion is fixated. Once the coffee was served and the manservant gone, it was time for affaires. Little explanation was required given from where he had come.
It was immediately obvious, though, in Drouhin’s expression, that his view of what was possible tended to the pessimistic, not that his visitor was surprised. The general sentiment amongst those who might be able to provide a supply of weapons — and for what was required they would need to be governments — was unlikely to be sympathetic to the cause of the Republicans in Spain, and even if they were, such states bordered on and were fearful of the major dictators.
Belgium clung to its neutrality in desperation, to avoid a repeat of 1914, Holland was not a major manufacturer, though well disposed to the Republic, while Czechoslovakia, by many miles the place with the required levels of production and quality of arms, would show extreme caution with Hitler’s Germany on its western border.
‘Has Poland rearmed?’
‘Not as much as it should and, as you must know, monsieur, they have a military government, so would incline more towards the Spanish Nationalists than the Republicans. There are, we are informed, people in certain sections of the Ministry of War in Warsaw who are open to bribery, so it may be an avenue to pursue.’
As information this was touched with gold; even inactive for years, Sir Basil Zaharoff had maintained a private intelligence network that would have shamed most national governments — he called it ‘keeping his hand in’, but really it was a game the old man played because he could afford it, having amassed a vast fortune, said to be the largest in Europe, over many decades of trading arms, making investments and buying and selling businesses.
He also traded on the romance of his nickname; many was the minor functionary in a state enterprise who did not require a cash payment for small amounts of information, people who were content to know in their own hearts, and possibly to let on with a nod and a wink to their friends or mistresses, that they were a friend of such a man. When all these snippets were added together, what looked pretty innocuous in isolation gave the old spider at the centre of the web a comprehensive picture.
‘Would that run to names?’
‘Only if my patron sanctions it, but added to that I will put out enquiries in Sweden and various contacts in South America.’ Drouhin gave a thin smile then. ‘Some of whom you know. But those who supply government to government are not numerous and are scrutinising very hard the End User Certificates, so even if you used a country like Argentina or Uruguay you would have difficulty in explaining the quantity you require.’
‘And one sniff of Spain?’
‘Exactly. In some sense it is a pity that Mexico backed the Republican side so quickly — they would have been perfect.’
The servant reappeared with the news that the master was awake and eager to see his visitor. Admonished not to overtire him, Cal was shown into a large bedroom, lit only by what sunshine came through slatted blinds, with Sir Basil propped up on pillows. Even in the gloom, Cal could see his skin was translucent and he could hear his somewhat laboured breathing. Not without a sense of drama himself, he guessed he was witnessing the end of an era.
‘My good friend, come and sit close by the bed so I do not have to do more than whisper.’
As soon as he obliged, he explained to the old man what he had just told his private secretary. The response was the same, followed by a bout of coughing which had Cal grasping his skeletal hand, surprised at the strength still evident in the grip.
‘You must tell me why you have become involved in this.’
There was no gilding it, he gave it to Sir Basil as it was, well aware that he too would not be sympathetic to anarchists and the like; luckily he had a visceral hatred of communists and through husky breath he rehearsed some of the crimes of the Soviets in much the same manner as Cal already knew, but with more accuracy, given his sources, his conclusion that unpalatable as it was to support far-left socialists, such criminals as existed in Moscow should be stopped.