Doctor Who_ History 101 - Mags L. Halliday [72]
Fitz. Germanic. Not good.
‘I’m trying to find a friend. He’s a Party member, would have checked in yesterday. Russian. Sasha.’ The man’s voice was more accented than the Doctor’s, slightly faster and more urgent.
Pia shook her head. ‘I do not think so.’
The Doctor sipped his coffee, looking calmly at her. ‘You can know that without checking?’
How to explain without compromising her position? She wanted to tell them something that would mean they wouldn’t start hanging about trying to find this friend. She kept wanting to tell them to get out, but even that suggestion might find its way on to a file somewhere and count against her. Burton had been very interested in her edited account of her last meeting with the Englishman, had made notes. She wanted to break any tie with them.
‘Where’s Anji?’ she asked.
‘Siesta. How are you so sure Sasha hasn’t checked in?’ Fitz pushed his coffee aside, leaning on the table, holding her eyes with his own. She added his eye colour to the file. Pia held his eyes steadily, even as she fudged her answer.
‘All Soviet volunteers must report to my superior’s office, he runs their assignments here in Barcelona. I’d know.’
‘Are you sure? He’s my sort of height, dark hair slicked back, brown leather coat, bad shirt? Talks like this. Would have been unshaven. Maybe a bit smelly. He was going to check in, then meet me in the evening.’
‘I’m sure.’
The thing was, it was the truth. There really had been no new agents arrive in the last week and all Soviet agents did report to her boss. He might decide to put them in another comrade’s group, maybe send them out to join a battalion as its commissar, but he always saw them first. Even though she knew this, she felt guilty, could see that Fitz didn’t want to believe her.
‘I mean, he’s not exactly... er... high profile...’
‘Fitz means he thinks his friend is a spy,’ the Doctor helpfully translated. Pia watched the other man’s face. His jaw tightened at the Doctor’s words: he didn’t want his friend to be a spy. He’d clearly trusted someone too much, didn’t even like the word ‘spy’. Curious that he would have preferred his friend to be a Comintern agent than whatever suspicion was now eating at him.
‘I’m sorry, Fritz, but I am sure.’
‘Fitz,’ he corrected absently. He was clearly absorbed in wondering what this Sasha had really been. Pia finished her coffee, throwing down the money to cover for it and stood.
‘Don’t come to my workplace again, Doctor, it’s not advisable.’
* * *
The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the open doors of the bar. Sabbath folded his newspapers and put them on the table in front of him. He pulled a scarlet handkerchief from the top pocket of his linen jacket and wiped his hands free of the ink. As he tucked the soiled cloth back into the pocket the chair creaked a little. The clock chimed thirteen and he smiled to himself. The bar owner had been killed a month before, having reluctantly agreed to go to Aragon to fight, but Alicia had kept the bar running as well as before. She was slightly better at getting information than her old man had been, doubtless having more alluring methods. Now she brought over a glass of sherry and a refilled jug of water.
‘Ah, Alicia. You know my needs so well. I’m expecting a guest shortly, could I trouble you for two coffees?’
She nodded and headed for the back straight away. The place was otherwise deserted. The Drassenes were as empty as they had been before, great warehouses now lying almost empty. The bustle from Estació de França never came to this back street. New arrivals would head straight for Las Rambles or for home and only a fool would stop for a drink on the assumption that the train would leave on time. Mostly, the trains were late. Sometimes, just to surprise everyone, they would leave half an hour earlier than scheduled. The flexible attitude to timetabling entertained Sabbath: like so much in Spain, there was no protestant work ethic over time, no insistence on punctuality. Time was still organic here, still a living thing.
A young man was