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San
Juan de los Reyes.
Dusk was falling. Luis, the barman at the Hotel
Mimosa was
polishing the glasses. In the village, lights were
going on. Down by the
harbour, the boats were getting ready
to set
out for the
night’s fishing.
The hotel was quiet.
Hardly anyone came to stay there anyway; only
the occasional American tourist group.
And, of course, Mr Skorzeny. He had arrived
out of nowhere five
years before and
stayed on. He kept to himself. He had his own
routine. Every morning he
swam before breakfast. Then he
disappeared into his room,
only emerging
at lunch. In the evenings
he would sit on the
veranda and drink.
Sometimes
he would be found still asleep in his chair in the
morning. No one knew where he came from - but
he paid his bills,
so no one asked.
Today was different. The stranger had arrived in a white Mercedes
in the late afternoon. He wore a
wide-brimmed straw hat. He had
asked for Mr Skorzeny. He was the first visitor Skorzeny had had
in all his time at the hotel. Now they sat
in the
twilight
at the end of the long veranda. It was funny, Luis thought, that
the visitor looked so much like Mr Skorzeny - same blue eyes,
same
square face,
same powerful shoulders. But of course,
unlike Mr
Skorzeny,
he had no beard.
The two men faced each other.
‘So, you’ve come at last,’ Skorzeny said. ‘I’ve been
waiting for you for twenty years, do you know that?’
‘I hope you are ready to come quietly?’ said the visitor, ‘I
don’t want any trouble.
You’d better give me your passport
now.’ As he spoke, he opened his jacket
to
reveal
the pistol in its shoulder
holster.
‘My dear fellow. Here it is.’ Mr Skorzeny gave the man his
passport. ‘I don’t want any trouble.
It’s almost a relief to
see you at last. I’ve been expecting you -
or someone like you -
ever since I
defected all those years ago.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. So, let’s go.
It will take us two
hours to reach the capital. We should leave now.’
‘Come, come.
There’s no hurry surely?’ Mr Skorzeny said.
‘I have waited for twenty years. You can wait for half an hour,
can’t you. I’d like to enjoy my last drink here. It’s
so peaceful in the evening’.
He made a sign to Luis, who brought two Margheritas in ice-cold,
frosted glasses. It was now completely dark and the end of the
terrace was only
dimly lit by the single
bulb over the bar.
‘Cheers, my dear fellow,’ said Skorzeny, and
drained his
glass. The stranger drank too. Skorzeny ordered another
round of
drinks. The stranger got up
to look down at the harbour. He did
not notice Skorzeny’s
skilful work with the drinks. They drank
again. Then
settled down to talk.
An hour or so later, while Luis
was away at the hotel reception, a
man wearing a straw hat rose from the table and
made his way
quickly to the
car park. The other man remained
slumped in his
chair on the dark veranda. Skorzeny
started the Mercedes and
drove
swiftly away in the direction of the airport. In his pocket was
the passport he had taken from the visitor,
in the name of
Lubelski. By the time they discovered Lubelski, he would be
clean-shaven and on a plane to ... where next, he wondered? |
