I shivered when he said that. In that ancient church, he’d drawn me back into the reality of the situation, and no mistake. I wanted to stay there, put down roots, cling to the old rugged cross we had been admiring, and hope against hope that everything would be all right after all. Only I couldn’t: they’d be closing the place within the next half-hour.
We moved out of the museum area and back into the concourse of the church. As we walked I was looking for the exit sign. I spotted it, in the far right corner of the great building. And, close to it, I spotted something else, or rather someone.
‘I know that guy over there,’ I said to Frank. ‘He sat down at the next table to me in a bar last night, with his gay partner. We had a drink together. His name is Sebastian Loman, his buddy’s called Willie Venable, and they’re from Kansas.’
He followed the direction of my nod, and stiffened. ‘Wherever else they’re from,’ he whispered, ‘it isn’t fucking Kansas. That’s the Canadian, the guy who interviewed me for this bloody thing, the guy who was waiting for me that day in number forty-seven. You can bet that the other one was good old Willie.’
He pulled me back into the museum. ‘How did he get here?’ I demanded, as if he should have known more than I did.
‘He must have been staking out the station after all. My guess would be that he saw us get on the train and boarded it after us. Then he saw us get off, followed us, watched us and grabbed another taxi.’
‘But how would he know to come here?’
‘It’s the best guess in town. . no, the only guess. I’m sorry, Prim, I screwed up, bringing us to this place.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Same as we were going to do tomorrow. Come on.’
We backtracked, making sure that we kept ourselves out of sight of the point where Sebastian had been standing. However, that didn’t solve the ultimate problem: he was so close to the exit that there was no way we could get past him without being seen.
We were stuck. . until unexpected help arrived, from the east. The Japanese party, at least fifty in number, poured out of the chapel and headed en masse for the exit. ‘This way,’ I said, grabbing Frank by the arm and pulling him towards the entrance, thanking our lucky stars that he was only a little bugger, as the tourists shielded us from the Canadian. Of course, I was wondering all the time where his boyfriend was. (I was pretty sure they hadn’t been faking that.)
The jobsworth on the door tried to stop us, but together we brushed him aside, without difficulty. I could feel him glaring after us as we ran (in my case, hellish painfully) the short distance to the arched gateway, and through it. I made for the hotel, but Frank tugged at my elbow. ‘No, we don’t have time.’
‘But. .’
‘What have you left behind in there?’
‘My case, the clothes I changed out of, and the other new stuff.’
‘Then leave it: there’s every chance the other guy’s waiting for us inside. You’ve got everything you need, and I’ve got my rucksack.’ As he spoke, a taxi drew up, and dropped off an American couple. Frank exchanged thumbs-up signs with the driver and jumped in; I had no choice but to follow him. ‘Station, please,’ he said.
‘Where are we headed?’
‘I told you, ultimately Barcelona, but first we’re going to the last place they’ll look for us, back to Seville.’ I looked at him sceptically. ‘Trust me.’ He grinned. ‘Listen, Prim, this is a good move. The Canadian doesn’t know we clocked him. If he hasn’t done so by now, he and his pal. . he’s here too, I imagine. . will trawl the hotels around here once they give up on the Mezquita. When they do, they’ll find that we’re registered at the Conquistador and they’ll stake it out. It’ll take them a few hours to figure out that we’re not coming back. We’re gone, it’s okay.’
At Córdoba Station, while Frank went to buy tickets, I headed straight for the shops where I bought another top and three more pairs of knickers, since at the time I wasn’t wearing any and, no longer having a bloody clue how life was going to turn out, I decided that I didn’t really want to die in that state.
We had half an hour to wait for the next AVE, which was due at quarter to eight. We spent it in the club lounge, drinking coffee to keep us sharp, snacking on biscuits and watching the door, never taking our eyes off it. Frank pretended to be reading a newspaper, but he wouldn’t have fooled anyone.
He took it with us when we left, and actually did read it on the comfortable, high-speed journey back to Sevilla. At one point I saw his eyebrows rise, and a smile come to his lips, but I was too tired to think of asking him what the hell he found funny in our circumstances.
‘Right, Spook,’ I challenged him, as the train drew into Santa Justa station. ‘Next?’
‘How many times do I have to tell you? Barcelona.’
I gave up; I walked away from him and flashed my ticket at the executive-lounge attendant, expecting him to follow me. But he didn’t, not right away. As I came out of the ladies’ after a thorough freshen-up and after donning a piece of my new underwear, I saw him at the desk, in conversation. He beckoned me, with a degree of urgency. ‘Come on,’ he called out. ‘We only have a few minutes.’
‘For what?’ I snapped, as I approached.
‘To catch the sleeper. I’ve got us two berths and it’s on the platform already.’
I was too gob-smacked, and plain bushed, to argue. Once again I followed in his wake. The berths he had secured were first class; just as well for him. They were also in a double cabin. ‘Frank,’ I began ominously, as the steward ushered us in.
‘It’s all I could get,’ he protested, as the train pulled out of the station. ‘I’ll take the top bunk.’
‘No, I will,’ I told him. ‘And I’ll pull up the damn ladder after me.’
He winked at me. ‘Dunno what you’re being so prissy about. I’ve seen it all before. You went to the toilet yourself when you took me.’
I stared at him. ‘You remember that?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘You little creep. But let me tell you something. There’s much more of me, these days, so you haven’t seen it all. . and you ain’t going to.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll just have to live on memories, then.’
‘Hold on to that word, “live”,’ I cautioned him.
‘True,’ he conceded.
‘Can we eat now?’
‘Not until the train’s past Córdoba, and we can be sure that these bastards don’t get on there.’
‘You mean we’re heading back there?’
‘That’s the route.’
‘And if they do get on?’
He frowned. ‘Then I’ll just have to kill them,’ he replied, in a quiet tone that I found myself believing, utterly.
Twenty-two
Happily, they didn’t get on, so Frank’s dangerous little knife stayed in his pocket. We went to the restaurant, for a late dinner, but not before he had gone through every one of the train’s carriages, looking, just in case.
As we ate, I asked him about his life in Switzerland. ‘If you hadn’t got involved with this Interpol thing, do you think it’s something you might have done anyway?’
‘Maybe. I know I loved it while I was there. It was a really terrific job, and I was more than a little cheesed when I had to chuck it and move on.’
‘And Susannah Gilpin: were you cheesed when you had to chuck her?’
‘You’d better believe it.’