Tango (28 page)

Afterwards, wanting the towel back on, he balanced on the chair and tried to unfasten it from the air-conditioner. He had got one end off when he heard Theresa’s knock. Trying to get down
quickly, he slipped and fell to the floor, hurting his elbow and hip.

She was solicitous, predicting bruises. They righted the chair and both stood on it again to reposition the towel. Her skin was wet and where the dressing-gown touched her body it clung. When
she took it off he could see that her underclothes and stockings were soaked.

‘What have you been doing?’

‘The same as with you but Carlos likes me to keep these on. I told you. I don’t like it and it’s uncomfortable when they’re wet.’ She took them off. ‘Can you
make the lilo wet again? It’s drying.’

He held the lilo still with his knees, kneeling modestly so as not to present his buttocks to her. It must, he felt, be the least appealing of all his unappealing aspects.

‘Lie on your stomach,’ she said.

He lay with his chin on his hands. The dips and swellings of the lilo beneath him were teasing. She filled a red plastic bowl with more soapy water and knelt beside him, rubbing him gently from
neck to heel with her wet hands.

‘This is more than pleasant,’ he said, feeling he should say something.

‘I’m sorry I have to be quicker than I like.’

‘Carlos is impatient for more?’

‘Yes. Also, I listened at some of the other doors. They are getting on quite fast. We don’t have much time.’

‘You’ll tell me when I have to signal Arthur? I’ll need to get dressed, you see.’

‘I think you will.’ She laughed and tipped some water over his back. It trickled swiftly down his sides and formed a stream down his spinal column. The remainder she tipped down her
own back, her head bent forward and one hand protecting her hair. Then she lay on him, her back against his, and began moving slowly up and down. She pressed quite hard with her shoulders and slid
her buttocks backwards and forwards over his, aided by the soapy water. Her hands gripped the sides of the lilo and her knees were raised so that she could push with her feet. Twice she slid right
down the backs of his legs and up again.

She rolled off him and picked up the bowl. ‘Turn over.’

It was an effort to move. He was very comfortable and bits of him had been pressed into the declivities of the lilo. He heaved himself inelegantly round while she put more hot water in the bowl.
He surveyed the unwelcome spread of his belly, now – thanks to the lilo – adorned by red weals. Her stomach had dips and hollows where his bulged. She smiled as she covered his front
with water and then did the same to her own, dipping both hands in the bowl and running them over and under her breasts and down her belly.

She lay on him, her hands against the sides of his face. Her elbows rested on the lilo and she pushed herself up and down while he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders.

‘This is body massage?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do most people have this?’

‘Usually, unless they are poor. But not many poor people come here.’

‘And do they – you know – is it just massage usually?’ He winced. One section of the lilo had deflated and his coccyx was being ground against the tiled floor as she
moved.

‘It depends on the man and on the girl. Sometimes the man doesn’t want to, or can’t, and sometimes he is horrible and the girl has enough money for the week and so she will
not. But if she likes him – well, you know, even if he has not much money.’ She slithered the length of his body, down and up. ‘Or perhaps the girl is tired. It is quite hard work
if you do it properly. There is not really time for more than three in an evening because she has to get dressed again and put on her make-up and everything.’

She rotated her pelvis into his. He held his breath as his coccyx was rotated in turn on a crack in the tile. He didn’t want her to stop but his mind was focused almost entirely on the
pain.

‘Most of the men who come here are married?’ he asked.

‘Nearly all. And they tell their wives they are going for massage and that it is only massage, it is not sex.’

She turned over again and slid up and down on her back. Then, with the adroitness which he felt rather than saw, she turned about, slid her legs between his and lay back so that they were like
open scissors meeting, crotch to crotch.

The relief of pressure on his coccyx was blissful. She rotated tantalisingly. He stared at the ceiling. ‘Their wives must know,’ he said.

‘Of course. The men always lie to their wives and the wives lie to themselves.’

‘Do the wives really mind, do you think?’ It was pleasing to talk dispassionately, as if nothing else were happening.

‘Yes, they mind. How can they not? But you cannot change men. The only wives who do not mind have no longer any interest in their men, but even they would have minded once.’ She sat
up. ‘I must go, I have been too long. What is the matter?’

‘It’s all right – it’s just – you see, the thing went down and when you pressed there—’

‘But you should have said.’ She got up, laughing. When he stood she examined his coccyx. ‘Yes, there is a mark. It will bruise. Now you will have three, with your elbow and
hip.’ She sqeezed his hand. ‘You are silly, William. You must be more careful when you take your clothes off.’

‘I shall. Now, what next?’

‘Put away the lilo and the bowl. Next we move to the bed.’ She began putting on her underclothes.

‘You’re going to do the same with Carlos now?’

‘Yes. It hurts me, you know, the bra hurts my breasts when I press on them.’ She fiddled with the strap. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, for him to want me in my
underclothes? Perhaps he will start wearing them. Some men are like that. He will be very impatient now. He cannot bear to be kept waiting.’

William tidied up when she had gone, making everything neat and exact. He straightened the red cover on the bed but did not get on it. He wished again there were no mirror above. Perhaps they
could get under the cover to do whatever was done next. There didn’t seem very much left to do, short of doing it. Perhaps that was it. She was now doing with Carlos what she had been doing
with him. Could she be intending to make love with them both? Or was she prepared to do all this with him because she felt sure she wouldn’t be forced to go on and do more? He realised with
some surprise that he no longer minded very much one way or the other. He wanted to make love with her, of course, but it no longer upset him to think that he wouldn’t, or even that she might
be doing it with Carlos. Yet he believed he loved her. He longed to help, to surprise, to please, to feel her dependent, to care for her. But the sex, the simple sheer sex, didn’t seem
important in the way it had.

He was still musing when she knocked. She slipped in and put her hands on his arms. ‘You are unhappy. What is the matter?’

‘Nothing. I was thinking.’

‘You have bad thoughts?’

‘No, no. I always look like this when I’m thinking. My face relaxes.’

She gripped him. ‘No more thought. We must act.’

She explained that when she had left him she had found that Carlos had been out of his room, looking for her. Fortunately, he had not gone far, because he had become intrigued to know what
Manuel and the two generals were doing. He had listened at one or two of the doors – luckily not theirs – and had heard that things were well under way. One door had been unlocked so he
had opened it and peeped in unobserved. What he had seen had so amused him that he had had to retreat to his room, doubled up. Only there could he laugh. He was still laughing when she got back. He
was on the lilo now. She had left him because she had said she must give the signal, but he had made her promise she would be back in time to finish him off. If he was not finished, he would be
angry and then he was quite capable of upsetting the whole thing. But the others were now at their most vulnerable stage; they would be helpless and humiliated. William must tell Arthur.

She was still gripping his arms as he pulled her to him and kissed her on the lips. She neither resisted nor responded. When he stopped she moved her head back.

‘You must hurry.’ She went to the door. ‘You must be quick. Don’t forget your clothes.’

‘No. I’m sorry I kissed you.’

‘It’s all right.’ She hesitated as if to speak again, but turned and went.

William dressed quickly. When he put his foot on the chair to tie his shoelace he felt the whole of his leg shake, though in himself he felt calm and fatalistic. It was everything else that
seemed to be getting out of control.

Box was alone in the smaller bar, a dark room with racing prints on the walls, and an open fire. He was concealed behind a German newspaper but was obvious by his polished shoes – his
special shoes, William remembered. There was a glass of whisky on the table.

‘All right,’ said William. ‘They’re ready.’

The newspaper remained still. William shut the bar door. ‘We’re okay, it’s me.’

Box lowered his paper. ‘Open the door.’

‘Isn’t it better closed?’

‘Looks odd.’

William opened it. Someone was playing the piano again. ‘Right. They’re all ready but we’ve got to move fast.’

‘Important to stick to operational procedures even when they seem unnecessary. Perhaps especially then, so that the habit sticks. You should have waited for me to speak.’

‘Okay, but we’d better get moving.’

Box folded his paper. ‘Never show haste. Important to reassure the troops. If you panic, they’ll panic. The essentials of a good officer are a cool manner, a reliable wristwatch, a
steady blow on the whistle and an exemplary death on the parapet. It’s all a matter of setting the tone. The men will do the rest themselves.’

William could see only one glass on the table. There was no sign of a bottle. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Perfectly.’ Box downed the whisky. ‘Are you?’

‘Yes. I just think we’d better get a move on, that’s all.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s only nerves. They make good servants but bad masters. You’ll get the better of them as you become more experienced.’ He stood and stretched.

‘I just think we should hurry, that’s all.’

‘That’s how it takes you. Try not to think about it. Pretend we’re doing something quite different. But keep your eye on the ball.’ He put the newspaper under his arm.
‘Keep close to me. We may need your Spanish.’

On the way out Box waved his newspaper imperiously at El Lizard, who nodded and smiled. William felt a spasm of guilt. The man was shortly to have his club invaded by soldiers and his most
prestigious clients arrested. He was to be unwitting host to a coup or a revolution or counter-revolution or whatever it would be called. On the other hand, there should be no violence and it
should be good publicity for the club. Carlos would no doubt continue to patronise it and the new generals and ministers would doubtless continue where their predecessors had left off. William
smiled back.

It was dusk outside and the birds were twittering noisily in the plane trees. Four black Mercedes were parked in the square. The drivers were all sitting in the first one, filling it with smoke.
Cathedral bells were ringing. Box seemed no more disposed to hurry than the dawdling couples.

‘Where are the soldiers?’ William asked.

‘Twenty yards.’

‘What’s the point? We came out of the building together.’

‘Security is a state of mind. Always seek what is most secure at the time, even if you haven’t been doing so.’ Box tucked his paper under his arm and clasped his hands behind
his back. He had spoken without looking at William. William dropped back a few yards.

They turned the corner at the end of the square, crossed the road and turned another. The waiting soldiers were not in sight. After a while they passed William’s shop. He half expected to
see the orange-seller back with new stock but there was no one in the street, just the two of them, walking slowly. He caught up with Box.

‘Where are they supposed to be?’

‘Twenty yards.’

‘You’re not lost, are you?’

‘Anti-surveillance. Making sure we’re not followed.’

The stiffness of Box’s manner and bearing indicated strong disapproval. William dropped back again.

The minutes passed. Street gave way to street. At one time they were heading towards the cemetery, at another towards the docks. Once they almost turned back into the square but veered away.
William’s exasperation and impatience increased. When they passed his shop the second time, he hurried forward again.

‘Look, this is daft. Time’s running out in there. They’ll all be gone by the time we get back. You are lost, aren’t you?’

Box’s pale cheeks were tense. ‘I’m not lost. They are.’

‘Where did they say they’d be?’

‘Round the corner.’

‘Which corner?’

‘The second one out of the square.’

‘Very unlike you to accept anything so imprecise.’

Box went a shade paler. This was clearly a professional humiliation.

‘Let’s go back and start again from there,’ William added in a more conciliatory tone. ‘I’m more familiar with the ground.’

This time they walked side by side. ‘Never trust other people,’ was all Box said, slowly and through clenched teeth.

At the second corner from the square there were a few closed shops, some sleepy-looking houses, a courting couple and a black dog.

‘This was definitely it?’

‘Definitely.’

The black dog cocked its leg against a drainpipe and then wandered along the pavement, pausing at an open doorway in one of the houses. It started to go in but recoiled before a boot, then
continued on its way as if kicking were routine. William, however, had seen the boot. It was long, brown and polished.

‘Let’s have a look down there.’

In the doorway a tall uniformed officer was negotiating with an ample middle-aged woman with very blond hair. She was shaking her head and smiling as he stroked her plump arm.

‘That must be him,’ said William.

‘Not sure. They all look alike in uniform.’

‘It’s the one from the palace, the tall chap, the colonel who accompanied the coffin. The one you bribed.’