The Five Arrows Part 57

Hall started to tell Santiago the whole story of his experiences in San Hermano when the Spaniard returned to the office. As soon as he mentioned the fact that Ansaldo's a.s.sistant Marina was a morphine addict, Santiago interrupted him.

"_Hijo de la gran puta!_ I think I know him. Wait, I'll describe him. I know him, all right, Mateo. Wait, I'll close the shutters. Then we can turn on the light. I think I have his picture in this room."

"Who is he, Santiago?"

"Just a second. That's better." He turned on the small desk light.

"Let's go to the files."

The Spaniard took a set of keys from his pocket, opened a heavy door behind the desk and snapped on the light in a small store room. He stepped in front of a row of steel filing cabinets, opened one with another key. "He used another name in Spain--and in Paris. I know it's the same man. Called himself Marcelino Ga.s.sau in 1937. Wait. Here it is."

"It's the _maricon_!" Hall cried when he saw the picture Santiago drew from the file.

"I knew it."

Hall glanced at his watch. "Just a second. I'm going to call Lobo back.

It's time. Let's bring the whole file on the b.a.s.t.a.r.d out to the desk."

The man at police headquarters had no news of Lobo. "I'll call you back," Hall said. "Keep trying him."

"So Ga.s.sau is your Marina," Santiago laughed. "We knew him well, the _cabron_. He was working in Portugal and Berlin as a liaison between Sanjurjo and von Faupel in 1935 and 1936. Then, when the war started, he went to Paris, the coward, spying on the German anti-fascists who were on their way to fight with the Thaelmanns in Spain. He posed as a contact man for the U.G.T., and then he'd lead the Germans straight to the French police and notify the German Emba.s.sy. Then the n.a.z.is would start to complain that they were criminals who escaped from German prisons and claim them back. Not one of the poor devils ever got to Spain, but some of them were ultimately turned over to the German Government and killed. It's all in this file."

"What else can I find here?"

"Not too much. He made a trip to Barcelona in 1937. The authorities arrested him, but his friends got the British consulate to make a special plea for his release, and the d.a.m.ned fools gave in and let him go. After that he went to Argentina, but he returned to Madrid in May of 1939."

The papers contained a detailed record of the fascist agent's crimes against the Republic, and ended with a clipping from _Informaciones_ of Madrid which revealed that Ga.s.sau-Marina was one of ten men to be decorated by the Falangist Government for distinguished service during the three years of the war. A footnote to this list said that Ga.s.sau-Marina was one of the three men decorated that day who had previously been awarded the Order of the German Eagle, Second Cla.s.s, by German Amba.s.sador to Spain, General Wilhelm von Faupel.

"This will help," Hall said. "It's a good start."

"There's my phone. Just a minute." It was Rafael. He was calling from the offices of _Ahora_, and he suggested that Santiago join him there.

"Let's go," Hall said. "Do we use separate cabs?"

"Don't be a child, Mateo. You're in Havana."

"I'd better check with police headquarters on Lobo before we leave."

They found Rafael in a tile-lined office on the second floor of the newspaper building. He was sitting at a large table, three large piles of fascist publications before him, and an opened copy of the Havana _Arriba_ in his hands. "No luck yet," he said. "But Eduardo Sanchez had an idea where the picture can be found."

"Where is he?"

"He's in there," Rafael pointed to a door. "He's digging out some more magazines."

Sanchez walked in with an armload of bright-colored Havana _Arribas_.

"It's good to see you again, Mateo," he said. "What pa.s.ses?"

"Trouble. How are you making out?"

"Who knows? Are you going to stay long?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow if I can get what I need."

"You say the picture would be in _Arriba_ for 1938?"

"If at all, Eduardo."

"That's serious. There is only one place in town where I know definitely there is a complete file of _Arriba_. It might be a little hard to get into."

"Where is it?"

"The third floor of the Spanish Emba.s.sy."

"That's bad," Hall said.

"Bad, yes," Santiago said. He put his arms over the shoulders of Rafael and Eduardo. "But not hopeless, eh, _companeros_?"

Eduardo smiled, grimly. Rafael grinned, a sudden glint in his blue eyes.

"What do you think, Rafael?"

"I think we should shoot our way in, _mi coronel_."

"And you, Eduardo?"

"I don't know. If we shoot our way in, we have to shoot our way out again too. Maybe we'll kill a few fascists, but will we be able to get at their files?"

"It would do us good," Rafael said, "to kill ourselves a few fascists. I think we are getting out of practice."

"Sit down," Santiago said. "This takes some planning. Mateo, you had better tell Eduardo what is at stake."

"In a minute. I want some water. And I'd better phone Lobo's headquarters again."

"Use this phone," Eduardo said. "I'll bring you water." He took three sheets of gray copy paper from his desk and fas.h.i.+oned a water cup. "We can't get paper cups since Pearl Harbor."

"Listen to me," Santiago said. "There is a way we can kill two birds with one stone. Eduardo, if Hall gets the picture, it kills Gamburdo and the Falange in San Hermano. That's one bird."

"And the other?"

"The other, _companeros_, is Fernando Rivas."

"Rivas?" Eduardo's dark, good-looking face grew puzzled. "Is he in this too?"

"Wait. I should bring _Companero_ Hall up to date. You don't know Rivas, Mateo. He is a queer bird. He comes from a good Republican family in Madrid. A very good family. Republican since before the First Republic.

This Rivas, this Fernando, he was good. Under Alfonso, he got a job in the Foreign Office. They sent him to Havana as an attache in the legation. Even then he was a good Republican. But something happened to the man when the war started. He didn't fight for the fascists, but ..."

"Tell him about his wife," Rafael said.

"That's what I think did it. He had a British wife, and she had high-life aspirations."