“CAPTAIN ARRÁEZ, WELCOME to Barcelona.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Fumero smiled. “Major, now.”
Arráez assented, holding the gaze of those two dark lenses behind which it was hard to guess where Fumero’s sharp eyes were looking. “Congratulations.”
Fumero offered him one of his cigarettes. “No, thank you,” said Arráez.
“Quality merchandise,” Fumero insisted. “American.”
Arráez accepted the cigarette and put it in his pocket. “Do you wish to inspect the papers and licences, Major? Everything is up to date, with the permits and stamps of the Generalitat government.”
Fumero shrugged, coldly exhaling a puff of smoke and gazing at his cigarette ember with a hint of a smile. “I’m sure your papers are all in order. Tell me, what cargo are you carrying?”
“Supplies. Medicines, arms, and ammunition. And a few lots of confiscated property for auction. The inventory, with the government stamp from the Valencia delegation, is at your disposal.”
“I didn’t expect anything less from you, Captain. But that’s between you and the port and customs officers. I’m a simple servant of the people.”
Arráez nodded his head calmly, reminding himself not to take his eyes off those dark, impenetrable lenses for one second. “If you would be kind enough to tell me what you’re looking for, Major, it will be my pleasure . . .”
Fumero gestured for him to join him, and they both wandered down the length of the deck while the crew watched expectantly. After a few minutes, Fumero stopped, took one last drag, and threw his cigarette overboard. Leaning on the railing, he gazed at Barcelona as if he’d never seen the city before. “Can you smell it, Captain?”
Arráez waited a moment before replying. “I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to, Major.”
Fumero tapped his arm affectionately. “Take a deep breath. Slowly. You’ll see how you notice it.”
Arráez exchanged a glance with Bermejo. The members of the crew looked at one another in confusion. Fumero turned around and with a gesture encouraged them to breathe in too.
“No? Nobody?”
The captain tried to force a smile that didn’t reach his lips.
“Well, I can certainly smell it,” said Fumero. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it.”
Arráez nodded vaguely.
“Of course,” Fumero insisted. “Of course you can smell it. Like me, and like everyone here. It’s the smell of a rat. That disgusting rat you’re hiding on board.”
Arráez frowned in bewilderment. “I can assure you—”
Fumero raised a hand to silence him. “When a rat sneaks in, there’s no way of getting rid of it. You give it poison, and it eats it. You set up a rat trap, and it shits on it. A rat is the most difficult thing in the world to get rid of. Because rats are cowards. Because they hide. Because they think they’re cleverer than you.” Fumero took a few seconds to savour his words. “And do you know what is the only way of destroying a rat, Captain? How to really exterminate a rat, once and for all?”
Arráez shook his head. “I don’t know, Major.”
Fumero smiled, baring his teeth. “Of course not. Because you’re a seaman, and there’s no reason why you should know. That’s my job. That’s the reason why the Revolution has brought me into the world. Observe, Captain. Observe and learn.”
Before Arráez could respond, Fumero walked off towards the prow and his men followed him. The captain then realized that he’d been wrong. Fumero was armed. He wielded a shiny revolver in his hand, a collector’s piece. Traversing the deck, he roughly pushed aside any crew members standing in his way and ignored the entrance to the cabins. He knew where he was going. At a signal his men surrounded the hatch that sealed off the hold and waited for the order. Fumero leaned over the metal sheet and gently knocked on it with his knuckles, as if he were knocking on the door of an old friend.
“Surprise!” he chimed.
When the men had practically ripped off the hatch and the bowels of the ship were exposed to daylight, Arráez went back to the bridge to hide. He’d already witnessed enough in two years of war. The last thing he saw was Fumero licking his lips like a cat a second before disappearing, revolver in hand, into the hold of the ship.