It's urgent Guesty, get there fast as you can, a package will be waiting at the hotel. My succinct instructions from Giveny. I was used traveling at a moments notice as the need arose so it came as no surprise.
When I got to the said hotel I thought to sit for a minute just to catch my breath and then get the package but I was exhausted and had started to fall asleep. I looked at the envelope, it just had my name on it, nothing more. I opened it and a note and silver key fell out into my hand. I unfolded the note. It was typed and read as follows: TAKE THE KEY TO THE MAIN RAILWAY STATION AND OPEN THE LOCKER THE NUMBER IS ON THE KEY.
Short, slightly cryptic. I assumed whatever was to follow would become clear when I opened the locker. I decided to freshen up a little and got up in search of the men's room. I briefly thought about calling Giveny but I knew that had he wanted me to do so, he would have said so, his instructions were seldom anything but precise.
Slightly cleaner and with my clothes smoothed out I hailed a cab and instructed the driver to hurry.
Now if it reads as though I was in some kind of secret spy story, cloak and dagger, danger all around, then I am afraid you will be disappointed, nothing so exciting or exotic. This was nothing more than a matter of urgent diplomacy but even that could be quite clandestine when the situation called for it! No doubt there was a requirement for me to smooth the waters or calm some issue that had perhaps got out of hand or misunderstood. Giveny liked to use me for such things and I had often been parachuted in, to troubleshoot a problem that needed my special set of skills.
The driver pulled up outside the station terminus, I paid him and crossed the large concourse to the doors. I had no idea where these lockers would be but quickly I saw the read the signposts and hurried to their location. The key number was 567, I found it and unlocked. I admit I did look around to see if anyone was watching me before looking inside, I did not expect to find someone doing so and it appeared that was the case. I pulled out a leather attache case. It looked and smelt brand new. I resisted opening and viewing the contents there and retreated to one of the many cafes, ordered a coffee and unzipped it. Inside I found a file with a note attached to the front cover. The note read: For your information with an address. I opened the file. A photograph of a rather handsome man maybe in his thirties stared up at me. He was smiling and had perfect white teeth. I vaguely recognised him but could not think of his name. The next sheet told me. Mathias Mendez, that name was familiar to me. Mathias Mendez, 54, Argentinian, poet, political activist, diplomat, was the brief note under his name. The next page gave a potted history of Mr Mendez and explained that due to his profile in his homeland and his governments antipathy towards him he had exiled himself to Europe. He had many connections there, due to his time in the diplomatic service but this had also brought him into conflict with their policies, which he very loudly disagreed with and had quickly found disfavor, he was unceremoniously thrown out of his job. Once released, he continued to be rather vocal, in his criticism and due to the fact that he was famous author of poetry in both his country and internationally, he was listened to. Naturally the ruling party took a dim view of his actions and it became increasing dangerous for him to remain. He therefore had decamped to Europe, where he remained a vociferous voice of opposition.
My job was to find him, hopefully at the address given and get him to stop, at least for the time being? No explanation was provided as to why this was desirable but my experience told me that some negotiations between our respective governments must be taking place and that the Argentinians had taken this opportunity to stipulate silencing Mr Mendez as part of their stance. Well I had performed more difficult tasks. I had never met the man but how hard could it be to get him to temporarily halt his opposition for the greater good?
The address that another cab ride delivered me at looked like a building that once was prosperous but now had faded and was in need of repair.. The front doors paint was peeling and the surrounding plaster was cracked and crumbling. I checked the written address once more just to make sure I had got the right place, I had. There were five bells to press and it was not clear which was which, I made out the name as best I could and hoped I had pressed the right one. There was a delay answering and I was just beginning to think there was no reply when a female voice asked in Spanish who was there. My Spanish is not great but I asked as well as I could if Senor Mendez was home. The door buzzed and I entered, the apartment was on the second floor. I did not like the look of the ancient elevator and took the stairs. A very beautiful women awaited me at the door to the apartment, she was tall and languid, dark haired, dark eyes with a sultry Latin look, my first slightly bizarre thought was she must be a good Tango dancer. My first words however were of admonishment You should not let people in without asking who they are Senorita. She shrugged and held the door open.
The inside of the apartment was even shabbier than the outside, it certainly had not been decorated for a long time. I followed my hostess into what I gathered was the main room. She gestured for me to sit, I looked at the chairs and chose one that was the lest stained. Is not the most luxurious living space you have ever seen, my friend? I stood, Mr Mendez? He waved his hand for me to stay seated. Mathias Mendez at your service, Senor. You'll forgive me if I don't shake hands. His English was tinged with only a slight accent. He looked much older than his photo his dark hair now shot through with grey, a slight stoop to his tall frame, a unlit cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth. Camilla some drinks eh my darling? He stared at me faint amusement playing across his face. We have few guests, you'll have to forgive us. Still you could be the last. He smiled enigmatically. I keep silent, I liked to hear others talk before I say much, it allowed me to assess them, an old trick my father had taught me. He sat heavily in the only armchair, Camilla re-entered the room carrying a tray with two glasses and a bottle of some dark liquid, she set it down on the table, reached over, lit his cigarette, turned to me, her look contemptuous and went and sat in the corner, she started to file her nails. Please he said indicating the drinks, blowing out smoke. I poured into both glasses picked mine up and left his on the table. I decided to say something. It seems Senor Mendez you were expecting somebody? He laughed and coughed, tapping the ash into a bowl on the arm of his chair. Everyday Senor we expect someone and who might you be? I took a sip of my drink it was Amerita, and a very good blend. My name is Guestling Thorn.
That is an unusual name but that is good I would hate for my assassin to have an ordinary name like Joe Smith or some other bland name. My face showed the surprise I was feeling. Ah you are wondering why we let you in if we knew. He laughed, coughed again and crushed out his cigarette. No Mr Mendez I am wondering why you think I am here to kill you? I assure you that I am not. Now he showed surprise, Camilla stopped her filing and sat upright.
Mr Mendez I am a British Diplomat sent here by to speak with you about one specific issue, I have never killed anyone in my life, I don't think I could! He slowly rose and grabbed his drink and swallowed it in one gulp, poured another and sat back down. Camilla left the room. Well Mr Thorn that is wonderful, simply wonderful, I was less prepared to die than I realised.
You were expecting to be assassinated? Mr Thorn, he smiled once more and lit another cigarette, I have been waiting to be killed ever since I left my home, it has become my entire life, waiting, just waiting. So why let me in? Camilla came back into the room and spoke in heavily accented English. Because he is mad and obsessed and wants face his killer head on and damn the consequences. She snorted he would have me killed too and I have been stupid enough to fall into his madness. He says it is poetic, he is a great fool I think. Mendez waved his cigarette at her, I told you to leave a thousand times, you did not go. She smiled a sad smile of regret and longing. I stayed because you do not abandon the man you love and I....... She broke off. You thought you could persuade me to leave, isn't that right my angel. Yes you stupid bastard. Her reply was angry and heartfelt and she swept out of the room.
Mendez looked at me and shrugged, are you married Mr Thorn? Yes, is Camilla your wife? She would like to be and perhaps she is, not legally of course, I would marry her but what does a man waiting for death have to offer except making her a widow.
Are you so sure that your government is set to kill you?
I have been a thorn in their side He shrugged at the pun, for many years and they don't take kindly to such criticism, no matter how many miles are between us.
Perhaps if you stopped? I left the question hanging trying once again to gauge the mans reaction.
He rose and walked over to the one window, my eyes followed him.He lit his third cigarette. I smoke and drink to much Senor Thorn, I'll probably kill myself before anyone else can. He turned to look at me. So what brought you all the way to Barcelona and my door? I decided to be direct, diplomacy can be a subtle art but I have often found the direct approach is often the best and it saves a lot time and effort.
To ask you stop if only temporarily, being a vocal opponent of your government, that is. He did not look in the slightest surprised. He laughed and waved both hands as though he was conducting an orchestra. Well, well, if they can stop me by force they use a diplomat, quite an amusing ploy.
You do realise that I am a British diplomat, I have nothing to do with your people, I am strictly under orders from my superiors. He waved his hand again Yes, yes, I heard you the first time Mr Thorn but that does not mean your two governments are not colluding. Now I laughed, which did surprise him, My dear chap it would be unbelievable if they weren't, that is how diplomacy works. Unfortunately I have no clue as to what they are "colluding" about, it seems I am not high enough up the food chain to be privileged to that information. However I have been doing this a long time and I suspect in the negotiations that are going on, your government has taken an opportunity to silence you without getting their hands dirty! So here I am. To request that you desist for the time being.
He sat back down and poured himself another drink, he went to refill mine but I shook my head, Camilla reappeared she sat and stared pointedly at Mendez.
Well my darling we are not dying today but we are being asked to shut up eh, what do you think, should I be silent, stop my incessant writing and shouting about my homeland?
Camilla snorted, You should have shut up years ago but I could never ask you to. Besides you would not have listened. Mr Thorn She turned to stare at me. If he does not keep silent now they will have to kill him, won't they, there will be no other choice if your mission fails?
I have been in many situations where one has to think quickly and find a way to keep all parties satisfied and I pride myself that I am good at it. I knew what to say. Mr Mendez would you let me give you some free advice which will not only accomplish my request but make your opposition stronger than ever? His curious look told me he did. Go ahead please Senor.
You have been waiting here for years expecting to be killed perhaps you even welcomed it, you would become a martyr to your people. Your poetry would become more famous and you could join a long line of men and women who defied their political system and were sacrificed for it. There is only one thing wrong with being a martyr Mr Mendez, you can no longer affect anything because you are dead. So in your position this is what I would do. Stay silent for now, let them think they have silenced you, return to your home in Argentina, quietly without fanfare and once you have settled break your silence, slowly, and most importantly with all the eloquence you use in your literary endeavours. There are many that support your views both inside and outside your country, believe me when I tell you your government will find it very difficult to harm you, especially if you give interviews and get the worlds press involved. Oh and marry Camilla. I sat back in my seat and smiled.
On the cab ride back to the airport I wondered on the nature of my job and how I ended up in a shabby apartment in Barcelona talking to a political activist and famous poet. I had no real idea why Giveny had sent me there or why it was so urgent. For all I knew it significance was completely insignificant but my place was not to question the motives of my orders just to perform them to the best of my ability.
Some years later I was in Argentina on a brief trip with the good Lady Thorn. At the time I was the Ambassador to the USA. We were invited to a government function. The President of Argentina and his wife were in attendance and naturally we were introduced. An aide spoke President Mendez this is Sir Guestling Thorn. The President waved him out the way and stepping forward embraced me, much to the surprise to all of those present, Senor Thorn and I are old friends, he is responsible for my wife and I being here and from behind him stepped a lovely Spanish lady, Isn't he Camilla?
