'One Harry would never break,' Sandy added.

'A code of honour, like that among soldiers of the legion?'

'Yes,' Harry replied. 'Yes, that's right.'

Otero studied Harry a moment longer, then turned to Sandy. 'Very well. But on your responsibility, Forsyth.'

'I vouch for Harry,' Sandy said with a smile.

'How much would you consider investing?' Otero asked Harry.

'It depends. It depends what's on offer.'

There was a tap at the door and Maria brought in a tray. She poured tea and coffee for them. In the silence Harry felt an unexpected clutch of fear. He was conscious his armpits were soggy with sweat. It was hard with three of them all concentrating on him. The secretary left, closing the door quietly.

'OK.' Sandy opened a drawer in his desk. Everyone watched as he brought out a glass phial filled with yellow dust. He took a sheet of paper and carefully poured a little out.

'There. What d'you think that is? Go on, pick it up.'

Harry ran the dust between his fingers. He knew what it was but pretended innocence. 'It feels oily.'

Otero gave a barking laugh and shook his head. Sandy smiled broadly.

'It's gold, Harry. Spanish gold. It came out of a field some way from here. Alberto's been pottering about that neck of the woods for years, taking samples, and this spring he hit the jackpot. Spain has some small gold deposits but this one's big. Very big.'

Harry let the grains fall back on the paper. 'Is this how gold looks when it comes out of the ground?'

Otero rose and went over to the big table. He brought one of the canisters over to the desk and twisted off the top. It was full of a crumbly yellow-orange soil.

'This is the ore. You apply mercury and acid to separate the gold. Two canisters like this would produce about what's in that phial; the gold content is very high. Can you imagine how much a whole field of that ore would be worth? Twenty fields?'

Harry poked the crumbly earth gently. This is it, he thought. I've bloody done it.

'These canisters go to the Ministry of Mines for assay.' Sandy turned to de Salas. 'That's where Sebastian works, he's our contact there.'

De Salas nodded. 'Spain's economic policy is based on self-sufficiency, Senor Brett, as you know. Mineral exploitation is a priority. The Ministry of Mines grants licences to private companies to explore sites. Then if workable mineral deposits are found and the government laboratories are happy with the assay, the company receives a licence to develop.'

'And its shares go up,' Sandy added.

'And this is what Nuevas Iniciativas does?'

'That's right. We three are the principal shareholders. Sebastian shouldn't be a member, technically, as he's a Ministry of Mines official, but no one bothers about that sort of thing here. And he's got some colleagues to invest.'

'Are they happy with your ore?'

'There have been delays,' de Salas replied. 'Unfortunately politics are involved. Do you know about the Badajoz fiasco?'

'I heard something.'

Sandy nodded. 'Huge gold deposits were reported last year, but it turned out there was nothing there. After the Generalisimo told the country in his Christmas broadcast that Spain would soon have all the gold it needed.' Sandy smiled sadly. 'It was embarrassing like that Austrian scientist Franco funded, who claimed to be able to manufacture petrol from grass. The Generalisimo was so desperate for these things that he became, shall we say, a little credulous. Now he's gone to the other extreme, become overcautious. There's a committee that studies all claims of substantial mineral deposits. The people on it are, well, not sympathetic politically to the Ministry of Mines. They see us as a Falange nest.'

'But if there are genuine resources, surely it's in everyone's interest to develop them?'

'So you'd think, Harry,' Sandy agreed. 'So you'd think.'

Otero shrugged. 'Certain people are dragging things out, ordering further assays, though enough tests have been carried out to satisfy any reasonable customer. Tests on samples taken from the site in front of government inspectors.'

'We may be able to show you those reports,' Sandy said. 'On a strictly confidential basis, of course.'

'I don't mind tests,' Otero continued. 'In fact, in the meantime I've been surveying neighbouring areas and they show even better potential. When we are past these bureaucratic hurdles and it is all public, everyone associated with this company is going to become very rich. But it all costs money, senor. Taking samples, making tests and there is a neighbouring piece of land we want. The price is more than we can afford right now.'

'It's not just politics,' de Salas added. 'Those generals on the committee would like to run us out of money by demanding test after test, drive us to a position where we have to sell out to another exploration company. One controlled by them.'

'Always comes down to filthy lucre.' Sandy raised his eyebrows. 'Five hundred pounds, say, could be very useful to us now. It could fund more drilling, sample preparation, and the purchase of rights on this new land. If they saw we'd got real financial resources I think the obstructiveness would fall away. Then we'd all be in for a packet.'

'Five hundred?' Harry said. 'That's a lot. It seems a bit speculative.'

'It is not speculative,' Otero said frostily. 'I said, we have reports verifying the quality of our ore.'

Harry pretended to consider, pursing his lips. His heart was beating fast but he wasn't afraid any more, he scented success.

'These reports, are they in layman's language?'

'Of course.' De Salas laughed. 'They have to be understood by the committee.'

'You'd have to come here and read them,' Sandy said. 'We couldn't let them out of the office. But we'd take you through them.'

'You are privileged, Senor Brett,' Otero said seriously. 'Very few people know about this.'

Harry took a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. 'I'd want to see the site. I wouldn't want to go in blind.'

Otero shook his head slowly. 'Its location is very confidential information, senor. I am not prepared to go that far, no.'

'The government must know where it is, surely?'

'Yes, Harry.' Sandy's voice was suddenly impatient. 'But only on the basis of guaranteed confidentiality.'

'It's just, if I'm to be part of this...' Harry spread his hands.

'We'll have to discuss that.' Sandy stroked his moustache, looking between de Salas and Otero. Both looked unhappy.

'All right,' Harry said. There was no point in pressing further now. He felt pleasure at having stirred them to obvious anxiety. That had knocked the complacent smile off Sandy's face. If they refused to show him he would go in with them anyway, but to see the site would be a real coup.

There was a tap on the door. Sandy looked up, still irritable, as Maria put her head through.

'What is it?'

'Senora Forsyth has arrived, sir. She's outside.'

Sandy ran a hand through his hair. 'She's early. Look, Harry, we'll need to discuss this. Why don't you take Barbara for that coffee on your own? We'll ring you later.'

'As you like.'

'OK. I'll come out with you, say hello.' Sandy rose; the Spaniards did too.

'Then, until we meet again.' Sebastian shook his hand, followed by Otero, who gave him another hard stare. Sandy ushered him out. Barbara was sitting by Maria's desk, in a patterned headscarf slick with rain. She looked pale and preoccupied.

'Hello, Harry.'

'You're early!' Sandy gestured impatiently at the scarf. 'And what are you wearing that for? You've enough hats.'

Harry stared at him, surprised by his tone. Catching his look, Sandy smiled and took Barbara's arm. 'Look, darling, change of plan. We've had a meeting, there's something I need to discuss with some friends. Why don't you and Harry go for a coffee on your own?'

'Yes, all right.' She gave Harry a quick smile.

'He'll take you home afterwards, won't you, Harry? Good man. I'll ring tomorrow.' He winked. 'I'll see what I can do with Otero.'

Outside the rain was still falling steadily, chill and dank. Barbara adjusted her headscarf.

'He doesn't like me wearing these,' she said. 'Thinks they're common.' She gave a tight cold smile, an expression Harry had never seen on her face before. 'What have you been up to is he trying to rope you into one of his schemes?'

Harry laughed awkwardly. 'There is an investment possibility.'

'Look, d'you mind if we don't go for coffee? I'd rather get home, I think I've a cold coming.'

'Of course.' They walked on slowly. He looked at her pale set face. 'Are you all right, Barbara?'

'No, not really.' She sighed deeply. 'I went to a cinema after lunch, to pass the time till I met you. They had the newsreel, you know what they're like, pro-German propaganda.' She gave a shuddering sigh. 'There was an item about the bombing, "Britain on its Knees". They showed the centre of Birmingham.'

'I'm sorry. Was it bad?'

'Awful. Parts of the city were on fire. All those people killed in the last big raid and they were gloating.' She stopped suddenly. 'Oh God, I'm sorry, I feel faint.'

Harry looked around for a cafe but there were none in view, only one of the large city churches. He took her arm. 'Come on, let's go and sit down in there.' He led her up the steps.

The church interior was cold and gloomy, only the ornate gold-covered altar was lit. Along the shadowy benches a few dim figures sat huddled, some murmuring softly. Harry led Barbara to an empty bench. There were tears on her cheeks. She took off her glasses, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

'I understand. I worry about my cousin Will.'

'He's the one whose wife's a bit of a dragon?'

'Yes. Though I saw another side to her just before I came out. We were caught in a raid, I had to get her to a shelter. She was terrified for her children. I didn't think she loved them, but she does.'

Barbara sighed. 'I saw raids here, of course, during the Civil War, but to see it in England-' She bit her lip. Things will never be the same after this, will they? Anywhere?'

Harry looked at her earnest face, pale in the gloom. 'No. I don't think they will.'

'I feel I should be there. England. I wanted security once, after Bernie ' she paused 'after he went. Sandy gave me that, or I thought he did. But there's no security anywhere, not now.' She paused again. 'I'm not sure I even want it any more.'

Harry smiled sadly. 'I still do, I'm afraid. I'm not a hero. If I'm honest what I'd really like is to scuttle home and have a quiet life.'

'But you won't, will you?' She smiled at him. 'That would go against your sense of honour.'

'Funny, that word came up in the talk I've just been having with Sandy. Public-school honour. Of course, it never meant anything to him.'

They were silent a moment. Their eyes had adjusted to the gloom and Harry saw most of the people praying were poor women in black. Some had only scraps of black rag to cover their heads. Barbara looked at the figure of Jesus on the Cross in a side chapel, painted blood running from his wounds.

'What a religion,' she said bitterly. 'Blood and torture, no wonder the Spaniards ended up massacring one another. Religion's a curse, Sandy's right about that.'

'I used to think it held people's excesses in check.'

Barbara gave a bitter laugh. 'It does the opposite here, I think it always has.' She replaced her glasses. 'Do you remember that family Bernie was friendly with? The Meras?'

'Yes, I was with him when he first met Pedro Mera. In fact, I went I went to see if I could find their flat.' He hesitated, he didn't want to tell Barbara what he had found in Carabanchel.

'Did you?'

'Yes. Why have you seen them?' His face was eager.

Barbara bit her lip. 'You know I'm doing voluntary work at a church orphanage?' she said quietly.

'Yes.'

'It's a hell hole. They treat the children like animals. That little daughter of Pedro and Ines, Carmela, she was brought in two days ago. She'd been living wild. I think the others are all dead.'

'Oh God.' Harry remembered the little girl looking solemnly at him as he tried to teach her English words. Her brother Antonio who had watched the Communists chasing the Fascist with him and Bernie; Pedro the big bluff father, Ines the tireless mother. 'All of them?'

'I think so.' Barbara reached into her bag and pulled out the ragged woollen donkey, sewn up round the middle. 'The old bitch who works with me pulled this out of the child's hand and tore it. I think it was the last possession Carmela had. I promised I'd mend it but when I took it back this morning they said she kept trying to escape so she'd been moved to a special home for recalcitrant children. You can imagine what that means. The nun in charge wouldn't tell me where it was, said it wasn't my concern. Sister Inmaculada.' There was a savage bitterness in her tone.

'Can't you find out?'

'How? How can I if they won't tell me?' Her voice rose, then she sighed. Her mouth set. 'I know, let's leave Fernandito the donkey as an offering to the Lord. Maybe then he'll take care of Carmela. Maybe.' She got up and took the toy to the rail of the side chapel. She thrust it angrily on top of the flowers in front of the Cross, then came back and sat beside Harry.

'I'm not going back to work at the convent. Sandy won't like it but he'll have to lump it.'

'Are you and Sandy ' he hesitated 'all right?'

She smiled sadly. 'Let's leave that one, Harry.' She shivered. 'Come on, let's get out of this mausoleum.'

He looked at her seriously. 'Barbara, if ever you need well any help, you can always come to me.'

She touched his hand. An old woman walking by clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

'Thanks, Harry. But I'm all right, I've just had a bad day.' Harry saw the old woman catch the sleeve of a priest and point to them. 'Come on,' Barbara said. 'We'll get arrested for immorality on sacred premises.'

OUTSIDE, BARBARA felt angry with herself for her momentary dizziness. She had to stay strong.