Free The Exile by Mark Oldfield Page B

you like, I’ll go after him and beat him senseless, it’s no trouble.’
    â€˜Don’t waste your time.’ She ground out her cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I thought you’d abandoned me for the general.’
    â€˜Do I look stupid?’ Guzmán asked. He saw her expression. ‘What are you laughing at?’
    Magdalena put her hand on his. ‘I’m not laughing at you, Comandante . I’m enjoying myself.’
    Guzmán looked at her for a moment. ‘So am I.’
    Three hours later, Guzmán and Magdalena were still at their table amid a circle of empty glasses, talking. The staff watched them, wishing they would leave.
    â€˜Do you have plans for tomorrow, Comandante ?’
    He nodded. ‘I’m going up to the guardia civil barracks in Oroitz. My corporal and I have some work to do up there before I can go back to Madrid. How about you?’
    â€˜I’m taking my father up to our hunting lodge tomorrow morning. It’s not far from Oroitz, perhaps you’d like to call in? You can say hello to him.’
    â€˜I’m sure he’d like that. Last time I saw him, I almost ordered my men to shoot him.’
    â€˜Really?’ She gave him an amused smile. ‘Why is he still alive then?’
    â€˜It’s simple. My men disobeyed me.’
    She breathed out smoke. ‘You’d have done the world a favour, believe me.’ She gave him a long look. ‘I really would be grateful if you’d drop by, I could use some support.’
    â€˜In that case, I will,’ Guzmán said. ‘As long as he behaves himself.’ As they went out into the courtyard, the scar-faced legionnaire and the rest of Mellado’s bodyguards emerged from the shadows.
    Scar-face broke the silence. ‘Can I have a word, sir?’
    â€˜Go ahead,’ Magdalena said to Guzmán. ‘I’ve got my car parked out front.’
    He raised an eyebrow. ‘A woman with a car?’
    â€˜I know.’ Magdalena laughed. ‘Whatever next? I’ll wait for you on the drive.’ The sound of her heels faded away down the path.
    â€˜What can I do for you, soldier?’ Guzmán asked.
    Scar-face tossed his cigarette to the ground. ‘Over here.’ He went to the darkened alcove at the end of the cloister. ‘I seen you this evening.’ The legionnaire’s stale breath soured the air. ‘Chatting to that puta while the general was speaking. Both of you laughing at him.’
    Guzmán felt a familiar sensation. A flame held to a fuse. ‘What did you just say?’
    Scar-face grinned, his broken teeth glinting in the faint light of the courtyard. ‘You heard. The general thinks you’re his friend. We think different.’
    â€˜â€œWe”?’ Guzmán repeated. He heard a soft noise behind him and turned. ‘You brought your pals,’ he said, giving the big shadowy figures a look of contempt.
    â€˜We look after the general,’ Scar-face said. ‘And if you don’t behave properly with him, we’ll break every fucking bone in your body.’
    Guzmán gritted his teeth. ‘You’re out of line, Private.’
    â€˜Don’t try and pull rank,’ Scar-face muttered. ‘Just watch it in future, or we’ll come calling.’ He spat onto the cobbles. ‘But first, we’ll call on that blonde you were with.’
    Guzmán walked away through the cloisters, hearing their laughter behind him. Four veteran legionnaires would be difficult to take on, even for him, he reflected, standing at the entrance to the mansion. A vein in his temple throbbed.
    Magdalena was leaning on one of the Grecian pillars by the entrance, a fox fur stole draped round her shoulders. She exhaled a pale cloud of smoke. ‘I’ll give you a lift to your hotel if you’re ready.’
    A red blur swept across his vision. The fuse sparking into flame.
    â€˜I think I left something