‘The Commandante will be okay, si?'
‘Yes, Carlos. He'll be fine, thank Christ. It was a flesh wound. The bullet went through his side but missed all the organs. An inch or so to the left and it would have taken a kidney out. He's a lucky fellow, Arturo is. He's not cut out to be a gunfighter, though.'
`How about the other Guardia? How is he? Alive too, I hear.'
Skinner nodded. 'Yes, but not so lucky. He's paralysed. One of the bullets is lodged in his spine. The surgeons hope to remove it once he builds up some strength. He lost a lot of blood'
The two friends sat side-by-side on high stools at the end of the bar in La Clota. Carlos looked at Skinner's reflection in the big mirror which formed virtually the whole back wall.,
`You know, Bob,' he said softly, 'That must have been some shot by young Joaquim. Hit him bang in the forehead, yes?' He made a sign with his extended index finger touching the bridge of his nose.
Skinner nodded silently towards the mirror.
`It's a funny thing,' said Carlos. 'My sons, they know Joaquim. In fact sometimes they go rabbit shooting, in a crowd. Only Joaquim, he never takes a rifle. He says it's because he
doesn't want to shoot anything, not even a rabbit for the kitchen. My sons, they say that the other reason is that he is a lousy shot.' He looked sideways at Skinner. 'I guess they were wrong, eh.'
`Si, mi amigo. I guess they were.' As Bob picked up his beer and drained it in a single swallow, Carlos thought he saw a very slight tremor in his hand.
He slapped him on the shoulder. 'So what's it to be? You come here just to drink, or you eat? I get you a menu?'
`Don't bother with the menu. I'll have the duck. In honour of old Arturo — who forgot to. Meantime, Paquita, another beer, please.'
The duckling and the telephone arrived at the table at the same time. As the elegant waiter was serving Skinner's meal, Kathleen appeared at his side, holding out a small black cordless telephone.
`Bob, this is for you. It's Maggie somebody.' She smiled. `Who's this we don't know about?'
Skinner took the phone with a smile. 'Maggie, hi. What's up?'
`Nothing vital, sir, but it's the sort of thing I thought you'd like to know about, so hope you don't mind. Sarah gave me the number. She said it'd be all right to call.'
`Mmm. No problem, but make it quick or my meal'll get cold.'
`Okay. Leicester called this evening. There's trouble between Monklands and Lucan apparently. It seems they were allowed exercise today, and Lucan attacked Monklands. Took a punch at him and broke his nose. They've had to separate them. They're due in court tomorrow, so apparently they're going to send them in separate vans.'
`Do they know what it was about?'
`No, sir. Apparently, when they ask him, Lucan just swears in French. And when they ask Monklands, he just holds his nose and says it was an accident. Any idea what the problem could be?'
`No ideas, only guesses. Has anyone told them about Vaudan yet?'
Not as far as I know.'
`Well, get back on to Leicester and ask them to break the bad news to Lucan, then watch his reaction. They should be sure to have a French speaker handy when they do, just in case he lets something slip that we can use. And now, if you'll excuse me, this duckling needs my full attention. See you Monday.'