His face remained impassive. ‘No one ever said you took the easy path, old girl. Not your nature, maybe too much of your father in you.’ I looked away, but Matthew continued. ‘Nine lives your father had. Like a cat. You’re the same, Lisbet.’
‘Sure. I’m a cat, all right. A black one.’
He chuckled, and pressed my glass into my hand.
‘Even better, dear one. They know how to hide in plain sight.’
Matthew Harrington, aristocrat, bureaucrat and a plethora of other ’rats, clinked his glass against mine.
‘À votre santé, ma chatte noir.’
Chapter Ten
‘How much do you know about Portugal – about Lisbon?’
Matthew held the empty wine bottle up to the light, frowning. Muttered something about evaporation and poured two glasses of Carlos Primero from a bottle on the sideboard.
‘Not a lot, I’m afraid,’ I answered, accepting a cut crystal brandy balloon. ‘I know they’re neutral, or at least, technically so.’
‘Right you are. Dr Salazar, like Franco in Spain, favours the Germans. Or rather, the Italians – there used to be a portrait of Il Duce hanging in his office. Might still be, for all I know. The rest of the country, however, favours the Allies. It’s a delicate balance.’
‘He’s sitting on the fence because he doesn’t want to be deposed?’
Matthew’s long fingers traced the grooves in the crystal.
‘The only problem is, he’s not sitting on the fence. No, my dear, be under no misconceptions – Salazar’s early reforms gave the country a modicum of stability, but his policies are conservative, Catholic, and as I said, Fascist. We gave him lists of suspected German and Italian spies. Would you care to guess what happened to them?’ He paused, one eyebrow raised. ‘No?’
His nostrils flared and his voice became condescending.
‘Allow me to give you two examples. Mind you, in each case, we provided them with solid evidence of the gentleman’s activities. The result of this “Portuguese justice”? In the first case, Richard Schubert left Portugal for Spain. That, at least, was an act of expulsion although the Portuguese refused to do more. Why? Because according to their penal code, spying in Portugal against another country is questionable and expulsion is the only option.’
‘Questionable?’
‘And I quote: “It is unclear whether espionage is a punishable offence under Portuguese law if it’s not against Portugal.” Under duress, Salazar just changed the law, but it doesn’t apply retroactively.’
‘And the second example?’
I could have pointed out that the Boche were most likely equally irritated that people like Matthew were still walking around. Or me, for that matter.
‘Ernst Schmidt – and I’m not sure if they’re their real names, mind – was arrested and then released. He now boasts that the Portuguese police dare not hold him.’
‘So one is free to wreak havoc in Spain until, I imagine, he finds a way back in, and the other has set a bad precedent. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but don’t we have a treaty with the Portuguese? I remember reading about a speech Salazar gave reaffirming it just after the start of the war. All the newspapers covered it.’
‘Very good, and yes, we do. Salazar not only confirmed it remained intact, but also stated that Portugal wouldn’t take advantage of its neutrality to make money from the war. The only one who seems to believe that tosh is Campbell. Thinks that Salazar will come to the rescue if things get bad enough.’ He made a rude sound. ‘And I’m damned if I know what it’ll take for things to get “bad enough”.’
I raised a brow. ‘Ronald Campbell? Isn’t he the ambassador here?’
‘Yes, and you might not want to get too close – he knew your father. Might recognise you and blow your cover. Inadvertently, of course.’
‘Noted.’
‘Good. As to the situation, if he had more sense, he’d press for all of Bendixen’s lackeys to be arrested.’
‘Bendixen?’
‘Hans Bendixen, Head of German Naval Espionage in Portugal. And for every one we find, there are countless more at large. Furthermore, Salazar –’ his voice dropped to an icy timbre, sarcasm oozing from each syllable – ‘swears that we are barking up the wrong tree. Agents we list as minor fry are key men and vice versa. He protects them while claiming to support us as well. Lisbet, this is serious business. Lisbon is the only neutral capital on the sea. People sneak in and out every day. The Hotel Avenida even has a “secret passageway” to the train station, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Not so secret, then,’ I murmured, impressed despite myself. And for the first time in weeks, intrigued.
‘Informants are on every street corner, with three others peering from behind the curtains, ready to run to whoever offers the highest price.’
‘Not much different from France.’
I put down my glass, trying not to remember how Jean-Roger Demarque’s treachery could have landed me in the Gestapo HQ on Avenue Foch.
‘They’re everywhere.’ He rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘When you meet someone, Lisbet, always assume they’re a spy. Perhaps even a double agent.’
‘And you want someone here you can trust.’
‘No, my dear.’ The light in his eyes dimmed and he looked tired. ‘I need someone I can trust. Each week it’s something else. Assassinations. Kidnappings. That bloody fiasco with the Ibis.’
I felt silly asking the question, but to be fair, I hadn’t had the leisure of reading a newspaper for weeks.
‘What fiasco?’
‘Last week the German Junkers shot down a commercial plane over the Bay of Biscay. A scheduled flight from Lisbon to Whitchurch that didn’t go over the war zone.’
I hadn’t realised there was an exclusion zone anywhere near England or France, but surely if a bomber could be modified to drop agents, why couldn’t a commercial plane be refitted to carry something rather more dangerous?
‘Ah.’
‘No, in this case there was no Trojan horse involved. There were innocents – or at least
