Vacuum (15 page)

Arlington had on a much shorter tan overcoat. It would have been right for a cavalry officer when cavalry still meant horses. He had a glistening white cutaway collar and a very subdued tie, dark green with ochre flecks. He was fair, light-skinned with pretty-boy features, not at all like pictures Harpur had seen of Franco. It must be a soul matter, this transformation now and then from Arlington, the drug pusher, to the ruthless Nationalist soldier. Arlington would not let himself get hemmed in by the merely fleshly.

Harpur had the driver's side window already down. Arlington came alongside and bent to speak, leaning against the door. His voice did a lot of first-class affability. ‘Mr Harpur, Mr Harpur – Edison was just saying how satisfied you must be to gaze out on the scene here, so animated, so positive, so magnificently civil and friendly. And how has this been achieved? By the enlightened efforts of Mr Iles and yourself, despite opposition.'

Behind Arlington, Edison Whitehead said, ‘Visionaries, both of you, Mr Harpur.'

‘We know it is Mr Iles who provided the original intellectual impetus for these charming conditions, but I say intellectual-spinterlectual, you have your part, also,' Arlington commented. ‘Detective Chief Super Harpur is the one who day-to-day, night-to-night,
applies
this intellectual impetus, makes it, as it were, work.'

‘A fine combination,' Whitehead said. ‘As near to unique as makes no difference.' Yes, he sounded hearty.

‘We regard it as very much your entitlement to come to the Valencia, take a vantage point, and enjoy the sight of a brilliant theory actually in operation,' Arlington said. ‘Who, I ask, deserves this treat more than you?'

‘We don't consider it vanity that you should motor to the Valencia and view what you've helped create,' Whitehead said. ‘This is natural satisfaction. True, there is a pride element present, but what is termed “proper pride”, a phrase my dad liked when referring to polished shoes, nicely brushed hair, my pullover free from Marmite stains. This is quite different from arrant, boastful pride.'

‘Who's around tonight?' Harpur replied.

‘You're right, an exceptionally booming evening for midweek,' Arlington said.

‘Did you need reinforcements?' Harpur said.

‘Many a more conventional business would crave this kind of take-up,' Arlington said.

‘I'm not sure I understand the command structure in your outfit any longer,' Harpur replied. ‘Manse is nominal chairman, you come in as MD and chief exec, Michael, but who's your deputy? You might be gunned down tomorrow. Then where are we, for heaven's sake? Someone must be there, groomed, ready to pop in and pick up the tiller.'

‘Not me,' Whitehead said. ‘You can believe it. I'm never one for the admin side. Doesn't grab me. I like to be out there dealing with specifics. And there's no shortage of those.'

‘Edison is famed for that,' Arlington said. ‘Well, I suppose you knew already. Speak Edison's name almost anywhere, even abroad, or on luxury cruise ships, and people will respond with: “Ah, he's an unparalleled man for specifics,” or the equivalent in their own lingo.'

‘Give me a specific to deal with and I'll feel at home and comfortable,' Whitehead said. ‘This could be seen as a narrowness in me, but I'd prefer to count it as focused strength.'

‘And, clearly, Edison is the sort I need beside me when I tackle this damned anarchist, Commie, atheistic, republican rabble government in Madrid, the so-called “Popular Front”, with its fucking intrusive Lefty Brit sympathizers,' Arlington said. ‘The International Brigade, spouting socialist junk. Have you heard of the Trotskyist George Orwell, so-called? That's not his real name. He's here. I hate people who give themselves false labels. I'm damn proud of my own name – Francisco Franco – and would never change. Orwell's real name was Blair, so you can see he might want to get rid of it.'

‘In your kind of operation, a good aide is invaluable,' Harpur replied. He admired the seamlessness of what had just gone on: this greased move from being Michael Redvers Arlington to becoming an army commander and prospective head of state, and then back to shaping up as M.R. Arlington again, presumably.

‘Admin is certainly necessary for our sales programme here and in other local areas, but it's simply not my flair,' Whitehead said.

He obviously took the identity switches of Arlington as normal, and the Franco aspects as ignorable. Perhaps Manse Shale had regarded it in the same way. He saw exceptional big talent in Arlington and might feel a bit of fantasy didn't matter. And so the advancement, not to dictator or general, but to hands-on captain of a notable firm. In fact, Manse might see Arlington's flexible ego as a plus in business. Did it prove he could bring an unrestricted, inventive mind to things? He had originality. He had scope. In history he had found a pattern of unstoppable leadership, which could be useful now. Or, at least, Manse might imagine so in his present off-balance state. Possibly he looked with special kindness these days on make-believe. After all, what had actuality done for his wife and son? Actuality was broken glass, blood and bullets.

Arlington said: ‘All right, I'm just a general now, but we'll see where I end up when this thing is over. I've got international friends you know, Harpur. No names, no complications. But these are people of tremendous status and immense resolve. Perhaps, without indiscretion, I might be allowed to mention a swastika. Two words from me and they're here in support. Have you heard the title
El Caudillo
at all, meaning honcho, and undisputed ruler?'

‘It's Spanish, isn't it?' Harpur said. ‘Suits the Valencia.'

‘Of course it's fucking Spanish,' Arlington said. ‘What else would it fucking be in Spain? I'll march on them and win that lofty post, or my name's not Francisco Franco, which it definitely and immovably is. Are you with us, Harpur? There's no ducking out. You've got to choose. Forget the failed coup I was part of. This time I'll triumph. Join us!'

‘Coups are tricky, wherever they're tried,' Harpur said.

Edison Whitehead said: ‘Talking of caudillos, we saw yours chatting to one of the young ethnic girls up near Stave Street when we did another small tour earlier today, Mr Harpur.'

‘Desmond Iles?' Harpur asked.

‘No, not Mr Iles,' Whitehead said. ‘Not the
Assistant
Chief. The Chief himself.'

‘Sir Matthew?' Harpur said. ‘You sure?'

‘This is the girl Mr Iles is very fond of, called Honorée, but on this occasion it was Sir Matthew Upton in considerable discussion with her,' Arlington said.

‘He went with her? Sir Matthew?' Harpur said.

Arlington moved swiftly around the front of the Mazda, opened the passenger door and climbed in alongside Harpur. He sat down and closed the door. ‘Some confidentiality required at this point,' he said. ‘In all our interests, Edison can listen in from where I was standing myself, but we don't want some of these other folk eavesdropping, do we?'

‘I'll disperse them, should they gather,' Whitehead said. ‘That's the kind of problem I'm made for. Dispersals, riddings, exclusions – these are my long suits.'

‘No, the Chief hadn't come for the usual kind of service from the girl,' Arlington said, ‘though she is a stunner, and testament to Mr Iles's taste and staying power. We wondered if Sir Matt was asking her about Mr Iles – sort of building a dossier against him, listing repeated intimacies with one of these purchasable sweethearts. Some would regard it as not fitting for a married Assistant Chief, even on a patch like this. We heard Sir Matthew thinks Mr Iles has been making a total monkey of him – that pre-warned search up at Ralphy Ember's shack. Would Upton be out to get him, do you think? We have a clash of two philosophies, don't we?'

‘Sir Matthew is still comparatively new here. It will take him a while to acclimatize,' Harpur said. ‘Mr Iles would like to help him, in that way he has with Chiefs.'

‘He drove the previous one half bonkers, didn't he?' Arlington said.

‘Iles and Upton are going to be at each other's throats, aren't they?' Whitehead said. ‘This, also, is the kind of specific that interests me, engages my mind – people at each other's throats. It's a figure of speech, yes, but throats are so real.' He put a hand in through the window and touched Harpur's. ‘There's a distinct physical nature to throats. Vital, or they wouldn't be up to swallowing.'

‘Upton will try to eliminate the firms, won't he, Mr Harpur?' Arlington said. ‘He rejects the ACC's happy, enlightened theory of cooperation between him and us. Why I spoke of a clash of philosophies. This could be grave. This could be wider than is immediately apparent. We have to ask whether Sir Matthew has been given the Chiefship here by some Home Office mogul specifically to obliterate the trade and its traders.'

‘
Specifically
,' Whitehead said. ‘Yes, that would be another specific I can understand and attempt to deal with – Upton sent here with particular orders to do a total clean-up. He's already a knight. He'll be after a peerage for purification.'

‘Starting with the raid on Ralphy,' Arlington said. ‘They're looking for something that would pin the Shale murders on to Ember. If they can take him out, the firm goes under.'

‘This would explain the Chief's rage with Iles who, in his view, sabotaged at Low Pastures the first move in the campaign, by giving Ralph the tip it was due, and, therefore, time to remove anything unhelpful,' Whitehead said. ‘It's very obvious.'

Arlington's face glowed, and he sat up straighter to invoke militarism. ‘“Campaign” is a word I'm very
au fait
with,' he said. ‘Youngest general at thirty-four, not just in Spain but in Europe. It would be neglectful of me not to mention this. Battles in Morocco, next against a miners' revolt in Asturias, and then the start of this Civil War in '36. I think I can reasonably claim to be an expert in campaigns, although, as a matter of fact, my dad wanted me to go in the navy!'

‘And after Upton had done for Ember's outfit he would turn on us, thinking we must be weak on account of Mansel's disappearance,' Whitehead said.

Arlington bellowed an exceptionally full, contemptuous laugh. ‘Weakness is hardly a characteristic to be associated with someone who made it to general at that age, I think. How does it strike you, Mr Harpur?'

‘Did you get any of the conversation between Upton and the girl?' Harpur replied.

‘The Chief's not going to ask
you
to dig out bad information about Mr Iles, is he?' Arlington said. ‘Sir Matthew would regard C. Harpur as one of the ACC's cabinet, and as someone who feels penitent and indebted towards him, because of that lengthy lewdness with his wife in various locations, often listed by him. Nor could he reveal to other detectives that he's trying to destroy his own Assistant Chief. It would look decidedly poor form. So he has to corner the girl himself.'

‘Did money pass?' Harpur said. ‘They don't like standing around gossiping unpaid. Tricks could be missed.'

‘In a way it's brave of Upton,' Arlington said. ‘He must be very determined. Still daylight at the time. There are many CCTV cameras. I hope he knows how to keep his face private. As a matter of fact, I took a couple of crafty shots on the mobile myself. For the record.'

‘As I've said, my own view of the Shale firm's leadership structure now is Manse as a sort of president-patron, you as the working main man, Michael, then Jason Wensley,' Harpur replied. ‘That right?'

‘I hope Sir Matthew won't have you banging on my front door one morning at four thirty a.m.,' Arlington said.

‘Is Jason working tonight?' Harpur said. ‘Both of you doing supervision? Did he have to be, as it were, drafted in?'

‘There's certainly a lot of customer demand to satisfy,' Arlington said. He opened the passenger door and swung out of the car. ‘You've reminded me I should be visiting the rest of the ground. Thanks for that, Mr Harpur.'

‘Don't you divide the overseeing rôle with Jason?' Harpur said.

‘Some would maintain this district has taken a tumble socially,' Edison Whitehead said. ‘Yet there is a fine liveliness present. We do not need to forget the distinguished maritime history. But it has been succeeded by a change of purpose. It has been inevitably brought up to date. We and you and Mr Iles are commendable parts of that progress, Mr Harpur.'

They strolled away, Edison taking a standard, two-steps-behind guardian position.
El Caudillo
had lived and ruled into his eighties and must also have had efficient protection. This pair's car would be just around the corner from here, in Templar Street. They had an established, well-known procedure for visits to the Valencia. They used three parking spots in turn. They'd leave the car and do a kind of walkabout, checking on their people working that patch, some of them inside one of the clubs or pubs or on the
Eton
. Then they'd move on by car and stop in Mill Place, and, lastly, Gladstone Square, and do similar foot patrols and visits there – another pub and Morgan's caff. Apparently, General Franco liked the regularity of this, thought it helped make the firm look reliable and organized, like an army unit. The obviousness didn't matter, because their trade was tolerated. In fact, he possibly saw the obviousness as a plus – part of that reliability. And nobody would be stupid enough, suicidal enough, to vandalize or nick their car. Now they would go to Testament Place before their last call at Gladstone Square. You could imagine it had all been expertly planned by the team who choreographed royal weddings and the state opening of Parliament.

Harpur, himself, took another slow drive through the Valencia, this time looking for not only Jason and Karen, but possibly Upton and Honorée, as well. He saw none of them. He phoned Karen's and Jason's home again and got the recording once more. He found himself gripped by that useless urge to see their street and house, not simply make mobile calls, and in a while he returned to Carteret Drive and parked at a distance from the semi. It was still in darkness. He decided to wait. He couldn't have explained why, and resented the slip back into automatism.