If he was aware that Cal was watching him the way a tabby cat eyes a mouse, and he had to be, Tyler Alverson ignored it, moving on to talk about President Roosevelt and the proposed Second New Deal, the ’36 election just having been decided, only referring to what was happening in Madrid in his explanation of why America would not support the Republic with weapons and credits.
‘I don’t know if Franco and his guys figured on this, but they kicked off right in the middle of an election campaign and nobody could have predicted that the Democrats would win by a landslide. Roosevelt had to promise to stay out of European affairs to get the votes he needed.’
‘But now?’ Florencia asked, her face eager. ‘Perhaps he will help now.’
‘Honey,’ Alverson intoned, that alone enough to dampen any enthusiasm, ‘I don’t think you know how bad things are in the USA. If you ain’t got your own house in order, you can’t go getting involved in saving the abode of anyone else. I think we will be sorry one day, and a lot of other folk do too, but them and I don’t run things.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Is it time for dinner yet? I can’t wait till ten, when you guys eat.’
Florencia stood. ‘I will go and change.’
‘Nice dame,’ Alverson said as she walked away, his eyes not the only ones following her. ‘And I mean as a person too.’
‘She has her moments.’
‘I bet.’
‘You know, I don’t take to being tailed.’
‘Who says me seeing you was not just a coincidence?’
‘I do.’
‘So, I followed you. I figured you were up to something and it’s my job to find out stuff like that.’
‘You could have just asked.’
Alverson produced a lazy grin. ‘And you would do what you are about to do now, tell me to mind my own business.’
‘Yes.’
‘So let’s see what my nose tells me. You are caught in Spain because you are tied up with Florencia which, I have to admit, is a damn good reason. Maybe because of her, but more likely for all the right reasons, you get involved in a couple of shoot-outs-’
‘They were a bit more than that.’
‘Battles, then — but you’re not battling now, Cal, you are visiting a discreet location in the company of a couple of guys called Andreu Nin and Garcia Oliver, who, I hear, is being touted to join the government.’
‘You’re so sure you know their identities?’
‘Cal, it’s my job to know. I have a photograph of every serious player on both sides in my suitcase.’
‘Go on.’
‘Now, when I first met you, what were you doing?’ There was no need to answer. ‘And what does the Republic need right now?’
‘A bit tenuous, Tyler.’
‘Is it, Cal? You’re a gunrunner and they need weapons, and my guess is that they worry about depending on Stalin for everything. I know the guys I’ve met in Madrid don’t like taking orders from the Russians, just as I know how much those communist bastards like giving them out.’
‘They’re not short on arrogance.’
‘So now that I have said all that, you have a choice. You can either let me speculate in print — in short, tell the American public what I suspect is going on — or you can tell me the story and ask me to sit on it.’
‘How do I know you would be satisfied with that?’
‘You don’t, and it won’t be friendship that decides, it will be what I consider best for the papers that pay my wages and are waiting for an explanation of what is going on in this benighted part of the globe. So it’s half a story now, cobbled together out of speculation and observation, or the full shebang later on.’
Cal stood up and rubbed his chin. ‘I need to change for dinner too.’
Alverson’s look was salacious enough to explain his reply. ‘Don’t you go getting distracted up there in that bedroom, my stomach is already rumbling.’
* * *
As he scraped his chin, in a mirror steamed up by his bathwater, listening to Florencia singing softly in the bedroom as she dressed, Cal was aware that he had to open up to Alverson. Whether, come the endgame — always supposing there was one — he would tell all, was another matter. What he needed now was secrecy — any hint that an international gunrunner was seeking weapons would be fatal.
He trusted the American would not use his actual name, but nor would he just settle for the nebulous story so far. He would be on his tail, asking questions at every stage of any deal, and if he was, he would be hard to fool. There was a moment, when he dipped his face to wash off the last of the shaving foam, when he wondered whether to pack the whole thing in, but Florencia had reached a high note in her song and he knew he was committed, and why.
With Florencia a late riser, Cal met Tyler Alverson over breakfast, taking a table as far away as possible from any other journalists, the first bit of the tale his trip to Monaco and what had transpired.
‘So old Zaharoff is on the way out?’
‘Sadly, yes.’
‘Not many would share that sentiment.’
‘Because people like you have demonised him.’
‘Hey, buddy, hold on. Zaharoff is not only a crook, he admits he’s one and takes pride in telling the world of his scams.’
‘You don’t know the gunrunning business, Tyler; it’s full of crooks, and when it comes to governments it is a case of dealing with charlatans.’
‘I’ll leave it to you to tell me which one of those you are, Cal.’ That was responded to with a jaundiced look, as Alverson added, ‘But if you don’t mind I will alert the rag. Zaharoff is news and they will want someone there when he pops his clogs.’
‘Can’t see it makes any difference.’
‘So how can he help you if he is so ill?’
The name Drouhin was kept back and Alverson did not push for it, though Cal knew he might at a later stage. He explained the arrangement, as well as the reasons, glad that the American was not taking notes. As he suspected, the reporter was not satisfied with just that.
‘For me to get this right, I need to know where you’re going, when you are there and who you are dealing with.’
‘You can’t use names, Tyler, especially not mine.’
‘I can use hints, brother. I will give you a cable address in the States. I will be like you, moving around, but Scripps Howard always know where I am and you can use that to tell me where you are, then I can keep in touch.’
‘Why don’t you just wait till it’s all done and dusted?’
‘Because, Cal, I am not a dummy. If I wait, you will have all the information and the decision to give or withhold it. This way you don’t.’
‘I will not put myself in danger to keep you posted, that you have to know.’
‘I can live with that.’
‘I wouldn’t live without it — I’d end up face down in a river, if I’m lucky.’
‘Now, how would you come to a fate like that, friend?’
Concentrating, neither had seen Hemingway approach and both were obliged to look up at him, the first thing to notice the fact that he looked pretty bleary in the eye. There was also a more gravelly quality to the voice, which indicated a heavy night.
‘You look well, Ernie.’
‘Tyler, I feel like shit,’ he croaked. ‘I woke up on a table in Chicote’s Bar. Is there any coffee in that pot?’
‘Sure.’ Alverson pushed his empty cup across the table and Hemingway filled it and drank deeply, just before sitting down. ‘Do join us.’
‘You goin’ to introduce me, Tyler?’
‘Why not? Ernie Hemingway, meet Callum Thomas.’
Cal just held out his hand, not in the least fazed by the false name, paying no attention to the way that the American squeezed it far too hard, just as he ignored the look in those reddened eyes that went with it. As he had observed before, this was a man who liked to dominate.
‘So, Mr Thomas, how does someone like you end up face down in a river?’
‘Drinking too much, maybe,’ Cal replied, holding the stare.
‘I’d take that as a warning, Ernie.’
‘Was it meant as that, Mr Thomas?’
Cal smiled, but there was no humour in his voice. ‘It has been my practice in life, Mr Hemingway, never to warn people.’