Two hours later Dan Pedersen, Willi Mohr and Santiago Alemany were standing leaning against a whitewashed wall inside the civil guard’s cuartel, just behind the church. They were smoking cigarettes and looking unconcernedly at the corporal, who for the moment was the puerto’s most senior police official. There was also a wooden counter in the room, and a basket chair, in which the guard on duty usually sat and slept with his collar unbuttoned and his carbine across his knees. For the moment, Siglinde Pedersen was sitting in it, her skirt modestly pulled down and her brown legs crossed. She had taken off her sandals and was impatiently swinging one foot up and down.
The cabo was quite a young man in an elegant uniform and black leather boots. His forehead was beaded with sweat and he was walking irritably up and down in front of the men leaning against the wall. Now and again he glanced timidly down at Siglinde’s sunburnt feet.
‘This will have to be the last time now,’ he said. ‘We’re friendly people, but we don’t tolerate anything. We’ve tolerated a great deal from you already, drunkenness, blasphemy, indecency …’
‘Indecency?’ said Dan Pedersen, stiffening.
‘Yes, we call it that,’ said the cabo hastily. ‘I know that they are said to look at things differently in your country. But that is as maybe, and this is something quite different. Provocation without precedent, almost assault …’
‘It wasn’t really our fault,’ said Dan Pedersen.
‘Don’t try that on,’ said the cabo, shaking his forefinger. ‘Don’t try telling us we’ve got it wrong. We know our job. I’ve heard what Jacinto and the abuela and even those drunks had to say. There’s nothing to argue about. You started it. And don’t try saying that this isn’t a proper investigation. I knew you’d say that, but this time it won’t work. I’ve had six men on this.’
‘In my country,’ said Dan Pedersen, ‘one policeman or at the most one and a half is enough for a place this size. And you’ve got fifteen.’
‘Seventeen,’ said the cabo. ‘And there’s no such thing as half a policeman. But this isn’t a nice little chat. You must leave now, and at once.’
‘And my wife?’
‘She too,’ said the cabo, without looking at Siglinde.
‘Do look at her,’ said Dan Pedersen. ‘She’s alive and won’t bite. Do look. You aren’t allowed to do that very often, you poor bastard.’
The cabo stopped abruptly in front of him.
‘Be very careful now,’ he said slowly. ‘Be very careful, if you don’t want to spend the rest of your time in this country in a very small room. I’m able to …’
‘All right, when must we move?’
‘At once.’
‘Where to?’
‘Wherever you like. Out of the district.’
‘Up into the town, for example?’
The cabo shrugged his shoulders.
‘But then we can come here every day if we want to?’
The cabo shrugged his shoulders again.
‘Idiotic,’ said Dan Pedersen.
‘Within twenty-four hours,’ said the cabo. ‘Preferably before. Otherwise I’ll have to make a case of it and put it before the courts. And I’d rather not do that, for your sake, and for my own.’
At least he is honest, thought Dan Pedersen. Aloud he said: ‘And the German?’
‘He can stay.’
‘Where can he live then?’
‘That’s nothing to do with me.’
The cabo looked indifferently at Willi Mohr. Then he turned to look at Santiago Alemany, who was leaning with his back against the wall and looking up at the ceiling.
‘What have you got to say, then?’ he said provocatively.
‘It wasn’t our fault and all I did was to try and separate them.’
‘You never do anything,’ said the cabo, looking bitterly at Santiago. ‘You never do anything, but you’re always there. You don’t even work properly like your father and brother. They go out with the boats nearly every night—but you’re content to sit in bars with foreigners and drive into town with the fish at the most twice a week.’
Santiago Alemany opened his mouth and moistened his lips with his tongue.
‘That can be quite hard work sometimes,’ he said.
He had meant to say something quite different.
‘What did you do with your brother, by the way?’
Santiago moistened his lips again.
‘I took him home,’ he said. ‘He needed rest.’
From her place in the basket chair Siglinde saw that his eyes had turned hard and cold. Perhaps no one else had noticed it.
‘Your brother’ll get prison; a week, perhaps fourteen days. Well, he’ll manage.’
‘Sure,’ said Santiago Alemany.
‘And remember what I’ve said,’ said the cabo, turning to Dan Pedersen again. ‘At the latest tomorrow, preferably tonight. And now, good-bye.’
When they went out to the truck, the cabo stayed behind the jalousies and looked at Siglinde. Her blue dress was tight across her hips and behind as she walked, and the grey dust swirled round her naked feet.
‘Cretins,’ said the cabo to himself and went back into the room. He took out the local telephone from under the counter and impatiently jiggled the cradle.
This corporal had no future ahead of him in the police. He had been sent to the puerto because he was considered to be a modern type, who handled foreigners well. He suffered from an inferiority complex on behalf of his country and studied foreign methods. His superiors at regional headquarters were following his actions with rising distrust.
Outside Dan Pedersen said to Willi Mohr: ‘We’ve got to move now. It was our fault you got involved in all this. You can come with us if you like. I know of a house up there, which we can rent cheaply. It’s at the southern end of the town and there’s no electric light, but it’ll do.’
‘Have you any money? I’m flat broke,’ he said to Santiago.
Santiago took a roll of worn dirty notes out of his pocket.
‘How much do you need?’
‘Only fifty.’
Santiago separated out a hundred-peseta note.
Dan Pedersen smiled as he put it in his pocket.
‘And what do you think?’ he said to Siglinde.
‘You’re crazy, but it doesn’t matter. It’ll probably be all right up there.’
‘You’re a good kid. Do you know what I thought when I saw you in there? You’re an insulting truth in this goddam country.’
He paused and looked her up and down. Then he said: ‘I want to sleep with you later.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Siglinde, and she smiled.
She looked optimistically towards the distant spot in the mountains, expecting something of the future.
Dan Pedersen had spoken German to Willi, Spanish to Santiago and Norwegian to his wife. He was on form, despite relative setbacks, and he thumped the others on the back. They began to climb up into the camioneta.
For the first time for a long time, Willi Mohr felt something stir inside him. He felt a slight burrowing curiosity about what was to happen next.
‘I’ve got some money,’ he said.
‘Good,’ said Siglinde, ‘then we can live off you until things straighten out.’
They dropped Santiago off at the nets, halfway round the bay.
‘We’ll move tonight, when it’s a bit cooler,’ said Dan Pedersen. ‘Will you come with the fish-van?’
‘Of course,’ said Santiago Alemany, raising his hand in farewell.
When the truck had driven away, he sat down on the ground, threaded the net over his big toe and went on where he had left off.
He said nothing to those sitting nearest him and neither did anyone say anything to him.