A Necessary Action (36 page)

Willi Mohr cautiously fingered the clumsy amateurish dressing on his face. It seemed to consist entirely of cotton wool and pieces of adhesive tape. His nose was quite blocked but that injury was not aching much, only throbbing slightly. On the other hand, his loins were burning like fire and the whole of the lower part of his body felt drained of strength. The pain in his midriff was more tolerable, although he noticed it each time he breathed.

He shifted his bruised body to rights on the bench. He was not thinking about anything at all. He was waiting.

Outside it had stopped raining, but the small wedge of sky he could see was grey and cloudy.

He had been sitting there for perhaps a half-an-hour, when Lieutenant Pujol came into the hall.

At first it looked as if he was going to walk past, pretending not to see the man on the bench, but then he hesitated and turned round.

‘Have you been to the doctor?’ he said.

‘No.’

‘Why are you sitting here?’

‘Waiting for Sergeant Tornilla.’

‘Why?’

‘I want to speak to him.’

‘I don’t know when he’s coming. You can talk to me instead.’

‘I’d rather wait.’

‘Just as you like.’

He was about to go, but stopped again and said vaguely: ‘Do I need to point out … well, that I’m sorry about what happened tonight … it was largely your own fault, however, but …’

He stopped and Willi Mohr said nothing. Lieutenant Pujol coughed with embarrassment and went away.

An hour later, Sergeant Tornilla got off his bicycle outside the porchway. He pushed it into a bicycle-stand at the end of the hall, took out a bunch of keys in a leather case and unlocked the door into his room.

‘Good-day,’ he said in a friendly way to the man on the bench. ‘I must say you don’t look too well. Most distressing.’

Before stepping over the threshold, he unhooked a brush from the inside of the doorpost and carefully eliminated a couple of small spots of mud from the leg of his boot. Otherwise he was just as usual, fresh, dapper and newly-shaven.

‘Have you been waiting for me?’ he said. ‘Not for too long, I hope.’

‘I want to speak to you.’

‘Of course. Do please come in.’

He held the door open and Willi Mohr limped past him into the room.

‘Just look, our mechanics have once again achieved a miracle,’ said Tornilla, as he switched on the light.

Willi Mohr sat down unasked on the bench and the other man walked round the desk, straightened out the goatskin in the armchair and sat down. He looked behind the telephone and shook his head. Then he opened one of the drawers in the desk and brightened up a little. He took out an unopened packet of Bisontes, opened it with a paper knife, struck it against the edge of the desk and held them out.

Willi Mohr shook his head.

‘I want to speak to you,’ he said again.

‘Of course. I have an unusual amount of work to do, but I can always find time for you. I’m sorry you’ve been kept waiting, but I have in fact had a very troublesome and busy night.’

He looked at Willi Mohr anxiously and hurriedly added:

‘Well, naturally nothing in comparison with you. You really do seem to have been in trouble. As I said, I hope that you’ve not been waiting too long. I was here for a while at about seven, but I didn’t see you then.’

He fell silent.

Willi Mohr shook his head slightly and coughed to clear his throat. Tornilla raised his forefinger and interrupted him before he had had time to say anything.

‘Take your time, by all means. There’s no need to hurry just for my sake.’

He settled down, as if preparing to listen.

‘You said that I was hiding something from you,’ said Willi Mohr. ‘You were right. Ramon Alemany did not run away from the boat in Ajaccio. I killed him. It was not an accident, but murder, carefully planned and thought out. Afterwards I discovered the money and stole it, almost thirty thousand pesetas.’

It grew quiet in the room. A minute or so later, Sergeant Tornilla said: ‘Does it help if I say anything? I could, for instance, ask: Why did you do it?’

‘I thought he’d killed Dan Pedersen, the Norwegian I lived with when I came here, and raped his wife, Siglinde Pedersen. I couldn’t prove anything, but there were a number of small points which did not fit and which convinced me I was right. I wanted revenge, and I followed Ramon Alemany and his brother about
for months. That was why I signed on with the Englishman. Then I just waited for the right opportunity. I never let him out of my sight. I lay in wait for him and gradually he realized it and grew more and more frightened. He was physically courageous but a moral coward.’

There was another pause. Tornilla looked as if he were trying to think of some way of being helpful. Finally he said kindly: ‘And when did this happen?’

‘On the evening of the twenty-first of April, when the French police had taken us down to the quay. He had drunk a great deal because he was frightened. I knew that all the time. He was out of his mind with fear. When we had been down in the fo’c’sle for perhaps an hour, he sobered up a bit and that was also because he was afraid, I think. I accused him of what I thought he’d done. Then I deliberately turned my back on him. But I was on my guard all the time. I wanted him to begin it all, take the initiative for his own execution. I had seen that this was the only way I could kill him. As it turned out, I was right, but it was very difficult all the same. He drew a knife when I turned my back on him, but I disarmed him. Then he tried to kill me with his bare hands. He was crying with fear all the time. It was horrible. He was strong but I had the upper hand. Even physically I was in very good shape at the time. I knocked him down and he crept round the floor and whimpered and begged for his life and called on the saints and people and gods. He confessed and protested his innocence alternately. He tried to get away, but there was nowhere for him to hide. It lasted several minutes before I finally knocked him out. I banged his head on the floor several times, as hard as I could. Perhaps he didn’t die then. I don’t know. I collected up all his belongings and stuffed them down in his seaman’s bag and put several large stones in it as weights. That was when I found the money and stole some of it. Then I rowed out to a boat which had been abandoned farther away, and took the anchor chain. I carried the body down into the dinghy and wound the anchor chain round it over and over again. Then I rowed round the pier out into the approaches where I knew the water was deep, and tipped the body and the bag into the water. When I got back, I let the painter drop and the dinghy drift. Then I cleaned up everything and went to bed. I couldn’t sleep
and I’ve not been able to forget any of it since. That’s what happened then, and if you want a statement before you lock me in down there, then I can sign it.’

Tornilla made a movement, but Willi Mohr went on at once: ‘Wait a moment, if you can. There are one or two more things I want to say. I came back here, because I’d decided to kill Santiago Alemany too, before I was caught. I’ve always believed that I would do it, but it didn’t work, although I’ve had several opportunities. I’ve still got a pistol which I smuggled in when I came to Spain.’

‘Where is it now?’ said Sergeant Tornilla.

‘At home. In the house in Barrio Son Jofre. It’s near the top of my rucksack.’

Someone knocked on the door and a civil guard he had never seen before came in with a telegram. Tornilla opened it and read it with a frown. Then he looked at Willi again and smiled.

‘Duty,’ he smiled, ‘Full of complications. And the telephones have broken down now. Go on.’

‘There’s one more thing I want to say. I know what you suspected me of. At that time, I was as good as completely innocent. I have not been involved in any political activities whatsoever, and I have not been smuggling arms. I know practically nothing about all that. The events in Santa Margarita which you told me about, I had never heard about before. I promise you that is true. I have never transported arms from one place to another and neither have I done anything else illegal.’

Sergeant Tornilla grew very serious and made one of his old gestures. He pressed his fingertips together.

‘I believe you,’ he said.

‘I’ve nearly always told you the truth. But I’ve refrained from telling you two things. That I murdered Ramon Alemany and that I was thinking of killing his brother. I don’t know why I’m telling you this now. It’s not because they mistreated me here at the guard-post tonight. At least, I don’t think so.’

It was silent again.

Suddenly the telephone rang, shrilly and jarringly.

‘Look at that now,’ said Tornilla. ‘It’s been out of action almost continuously since yesterday evening. If you’ll excuse me …’

He picked up the receiver and appeared to be listening to a message. He nodded several times, but said nothing more than a few words such as yes and no.

And once only: ‘We’ll see in an hour or two.’

He put the receiver down and made a few notes on a piece of paper. Then he said: ‘Excuse me. I had not reckoned on your visit and must do one or two things at the same time.’

Willi Mohr sat in silence for a while. He was breathing unevenly and heavily, but that was because his nose was blocked.

‘I don’t think there’s anything else,’ he said.

After another few minute’s pause, he added: ‘I was really going to leave here today.’

Tornilla showed signs of surprise, raising his eyebrows and inclining his head.

‘Oh yes? Were you thinking of leaving the country?’

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t you like it here?’

‘No. The more I see of it the less I like it. In as far as I’ve understood the situation, I think it’s untenable. And loathsome.’

‘Where were you thinking of going?’

‘To the provincial capital first. And then home.’

‘To West Germany?’

‘No, to the German Democratic Republic.’

‘What are you going to do there?’

‘Work.’

‘And become a Communist?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You really have been led astray,’ said Tornilla sadly.

Another silence, long and guarded, as if they were both waiting for something. The man in the armchair stared at his visitor, steadily and thoughtfully. Then he said at last: ‘What do you want me to do about it?’

Willi Mohr looked round in confusion.

‘Arrest me of course,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders.

‘Why?’

‘Well, I’ve murdered a man.’

Sergeant Tornilla slowly took a cigarette out of the packet and lit it. He blew a couple of smoke-rings and followed them with his eyes until they dissolved beneath the green lampshade.

‘I can’t really lock you up for a crime committed in another country. There’s no body and no one has maintained that Ramon Alemany is dead. Except you. You’ve heard of corpus delecti, haven’t you? In addition, if your statement is true, the case would be considered as killing in self-defence. Even in court with you as a witness, you would probably be acquitted.’

‘But I did in fact kill him.’

‘Even I have managed to grasp that fact, at last,’ said Sergeant Tornilla.

‘I had to. I couldn’t go to the police. There wasn’t any proof and I couldn’t even speak the language.’

‘I understand.’

‘But what are you going to do?’

‘Nothing. What can I do?’

‘So I can leave here?’

‘Of course.’

‘And leave the town today if I want to?’

‘I can’t stop you. As long as you don’t commit a crime before that, of course. Have you paid Amadeo Prunera, the man with the brushwood?’

‘No.’

‘Do that, then.’

‘I’ve still got the pistol.’

Sergeant Tornilla smiled secretively. He pulled out a drawer and placed the Walther pistol on the desk. Willi Mohr recognized it by the spots of rust on the clip. Fastened to the butt was a stamped piece of cardboard.

‘For certain reasons, your house was searched early this morning. My men found this, in a rucksack, as you said. They found no reason to bring anything else.’

He pointed at the pistol and said reproachfully: ‘You haven’t looked after it very well. Well, you can’t have it back. The loss of impounded goods will in this case be the punishment. On the other hand, you’ll be given a receipt. I’ll have it sent over today.’

‘So I can go?’

‘Of course.’

‘From here?’

‘Of course.’

‘I didn’t come to Spain to smuggle arms.

‘I believe you.’

‘I’ll leave as soon as I can, perhaps today even.’

Sergeant Tornilla rose.

‘Of course, I doubt the wisdom of your decision, but that’s nothing to do with me.’

He took Willi Mohr lightly by the arm and led him towards the door, opened it and put out his hand.

‘Good luck,’ he said.

Willi Mohr stopped in the doorway.

‘I really am leaving,’ he said. ‘And I’ve no intention of … well, of killing the other one any longer.

Tornilla looked past him out into the hall, at a pair of civil guards who were loading ammunition belts on to a bicycle-cart. Then he said absently: ‘I believe you on that point too. Anyhow, you would be too late. Santiago Alemany was arrested in the puerto just before six o’clock this morning, suspected of several serious crimes. He resisted and was wounded before he could be overpowered. Quite badly, I believe. He has been taken to the military hospital some way away from here, and from what I heard, the doctor was not very hopeful about the case. That’s some hours ago now, so he’s probably already … well, I don’t know anything about all that …’

The telephone rang. He smiled apologetically and closed the door behind Willi Mohr.

Slowly and stiffly, Willi Mohr walked along the straight road between the olive trees. He came to the narrow cobbled street where the civil guard with a grey moustache lived, crossed the square without even glancing at the Café Central, and continued along the Avenue with its grey façades and neat paving-stones. He was quite certain that he was walking this way for the last time.

The whole way he repeated several simple statements to himself: I won’t bother with this any longer. It’s all over. They are all dead, and I don’t care. I want to live. Now I’ve got the chance.