Message From Malaga by Helen MacInnes Read Free Book Online Page B

touch.” Then Fuentes stood listening to the music, too. His face was lost in memories. “So many years,” he said softly. “So many, many years.”
    “I must leave.” Reid pressed the shutters together, fastened them. It was difficult with the exchanged lighter in his right hand, but he hadn’t dared risk slipping it into his pocket. “Turn on the light after I close the curtains,” he warned. Behind him, the lamp was switched on as he drew the curtains roughly together. He came back to the centre of the room, where Fuentes now stood looking down at the table.
    “Their names?” Reid asked.
    “The three men in the courtyard?”
    Slight hesitation. Fuentes was debating whether he’d give this much information at this stage.
    “Names,” Reid repeated.
    “Gustaf Torrens is the one with the Swedish passport. The Americans, according to their passports, are Edmund Pitt, black; Lee Laner, white.”
    “When do they arrive in the States? And where?”
    “Later,” Fuentes said. “We’ll save these details for later. I’ll give you them at our next meeting.”
    So, thought Reid, no more information at this session. To be continued... He frowned, took a few thoughtful paces around the room, his hands jammed into his pockets, his head bent. “All right,” he said, accepting Fuentes’ decision. “Now you get back to your own quarters. I’ll see you there when the show is over.” His hands came out of his pockets as he stepped briskly over to the door.
    “And what about your friend who is now sitting at your table? How do you get away from him?”
    “He will be delighted to spend a couple of hours with Tavita. Who wouldn’t?”
    “She tells me his visit has been long planned. True?”
    “Yes.” So, he had actually questioned Tavita about Ian. But of course he would. Ian was the unexpected, the unknown factor.
    “Is he connected with the CIA?”
    “No.”
    “Tavita said something about your Space Agency. She was vague, of course. And our time together was brief. Ferrier—isn’t that his name?—what is his job there?”
    “Something to do with tracking.”
    “Tracking? You mean keeping an eye on the things that are flying overhead? What does he do—simply record them, or analyse?”
    “It is none of your damned business. Come on, let’s move. I’m late.”
    “So he is in some kind of space intelligence? In a way, it is my business. Such a man has a trained mind. The type who asks questions and—even more dangerous—finds answers.”
    “He isn’t in your line of work,” Reid said sharply. “Keep him out of this. And Tavita, too.” And that, my friend, is why you are leaving El Fenicio tonight—before tomorrow, certainly.
    “That would be difficult. I stay close to Tavita until you produce action from Washington. She is my insurance.”
    Blackmail? “I wouldn’t threaten Tavita, if I were you. She won’t be pushed.”
    “She wouldn’t denounce me.”
    “You’d better not risk that if she finds out you are a Soviet agent—”
    “She won’t. I am simply a communist who is travelling through Spain, and asks her for help. She will give it. She has to.”
    “Because of her brother?”
    “She owns me two debts. One is her brother’s life; the other is my silence about his past.”
    “But you said he was a changed man.”
    “He is changed. But what he did in Málaga in 1936 can never be changed. If the Spanish government knew the full facts, they would not have welcomed him home. They would have brought him to trial.” Fuentes watched the younger man’s face. “That comes as a shock, does it? You didn’t know thiswhen you helped Tavita’s brother get established back here? Disconcerting.”
    And highly dangerous, if all this was true. And if Fuentes had no real damning facts, he could invent them. “You’ll leave here before dawn,” Reid said. “And don’t worry about your safety. I shall make sure of that.”
    “You do not sound too happy about it.” Fuentes was highly