most certainly the business will end up a wholly military operation, and that would be dreadful. You must pardon me for trying to swim upstream. I still have to try to do all that I can to prevent the worst from occurring.” He uttered a single chuckle: his antipathy to water made him a very poor swimmer and they both knew it. “Nevertheless, I will give you my Word: if I fail in my efforts, then I will make whatever arrangements are necessary to leave, however I have to.”
“Do you suppose you’ll have to give up the aircraft business?” He knew this was the crux of the problem.
“It may come to that, but I assume there must be some way I can save it—I hope it is not too late,” said Saint-Germain. “I have only two aliases to use here in España, and neither one will tolerate close scrutiny.” He shrugged disconsolately. “If I am wholly frank, I suppose I may have to part with the company completely, as little as I want to give it up. I believe that once the company is out of my hands the airplanes will be used for war. But it seems it may no longer be an option, given the state of the country, in which case, I would like to minimize the extent to which Eclipse Aero becomes dedicated to killing.” He turned the page of his German paper. “I will have to make up my mind what to do to protect the business.”
Rogerio looked down at the floor. “It would be wise to decide soon, I think. I may be overcautious, but I cannot help but wonder if there will be any way for us to leave España, or Europe for that matter, if we wait much longer. I have no wish to dwell on the matter, but with violence escalating—”
“I understand your concerns,” Saint-Germain said, “as I always do when you warn me.” His smile was swift but sincere.
“Very well, I will have to be content with this for now, but if matters get worse, I will speak with you again,” said Rogerio, preparing to leave the study. “Is there anything you need me to do in the next hour or so?”
“I don’t think so: why?” Saint-Germain responded.
“I have a fresh shoat being held at the butcher’s shop on the Avenida Santa Cajetana. I was thinking I would call in there as soon as siesta is ended.” He saw Saint-Germain nod. “Thank you. I will not linger.”
“With the army making a pest of itself, it is a good idea to provide them as little opportunity to impose as is possible. Be careful while you are on the street, for you know the army is to impose its will on everyone.” He tapped a card that lay on the table beside his chair. “Colonel Senda is still paying close attention to everything I do. But more than my predicament troubles me.” He took up another newspaper—this one from Milan—and opened it. “This arrogant popinjay Mussolini, for instance: he troubles me. The continuing persecutions in Russia trouble me. The unrest in China troubles me. The aftermath of the Great War troubles me. The fate of the Armenians troubles me. The difficulties in the Middle East trouble me. The confusion in Britain and her colonies troubles me. The vindictive complacency in France troubles me. We won’t even speak of the NSDAP.” His voice tightened at the mention of the ruling party in Germany, whose followers had killed his ward in Munich a decade ago; he still mourned Laisha, her memory as tender as the half-healed wound it was.
“The Nazis have many supporters outside of Germany,” Rogerio reminded him gently, using the nickname of the National Socialist German Workers Party that had already made itself infamous among certain groups.
Saint-Germain contemplated the page in front of him. “They will come to grief over it,” he said at last, very softly.
“That is my point,” said Rogerio as he opened the door. “May I get anything for you while I am out?”
“I don’t think so,” Saint-Germain said after a moment’s hesitation.
“Will you see Doña Isabel?” Rogerio asked, his hand on the door-latch.
“No, not
“Do you suppose you’ll have to give up the aircraft business?” He knew this was the crux of the problem.
“It may come to that, but I assume there must be some way I can save it—I hope it is not too late,” said Saint-Germain. “I have only two aliases to use here in España, and neither one will tolerate close scrutiny.” He shrugged disconsolately. “If I am wholly frank, I suppose I may have to part with the company completely, as little as I want to give it up. I believe that once the company is out of my hands the airplanes will be used for war. But it seems it may no longer be an option, given the state of the country, in which case, I would like to minimize the extent to which Eclipse Aero becomes dedicated to killing.” He turned the page of his German paper. “I will have to make up my mind what to do to protect the business.”
Rogerio looked down at the floor. “It would be wise to decide soon, I think. I may be overcautious, but I cannot help but wonder if there will be any way for us to leave España, or Europe for that matter, if we wait much longer. I have no wish to dwell on the matter, but with violence escalating—”
“I understand your concerns,” Saint-Germain said, “as I always do when you warn me.” His smile was swift but sincere.
“Very well, I will have to be content with this for now, but if matters get worse, I will speak with you again,” said Rogerio, preparing to leave the study. “Is there anything you need me to do in the next hour or so?”
“I don’t think so: why?” Saint-Germain responded.
“I have a fresh shoat being held at the butcher’s shop on the Avenida Santa Cajetana. I was thinking I would call in there as soon as siesta is ended.” He saw Saint-Germain nod. “Thank you. I will not linger.”
“With the army making a pest of itself, it is a good idea to provide them as little opportunity to impose as is possible. Be careful while you are on the street, for you know the army is to impose its will on everyone.” He tapped a card that lay on the table beside his chair. “Colonel Senda is still paying close attention to everything I do. But more than my predicament troubles me.” He took up another newspaper—this one from Milan—and opened it. “This arrogant popinjay Mussolini, for instance: he troubles me. The continuing persecutions in Russia trouble me. The unrest in China troubles me. The aftermath of the Great War troubles me. The fate of the Armenians troubles me. The difficulties in the Middle East trouble me. The confusion in Britain and her colonies troubles me. The vindictive complacency in France troubles me. We won’t even speak of the NSDAP.” His voice tightened at the mention of the ruling party in Germany, whose followers had killed his ward in Munich a decade ago; he still mourned Laisha, her memory as tender as the half-healed wound it was.
“The Nazis have many supporters outside of Germany,” Rogerio reminded him gently, using the nickname of the National Socialist German Workers Party that had already made itself infamous among certain groups.
Saint-Germain contemplated the page in front of him. “They will come to grief over it,” he said at last, very softly.
“That is my point,” said Rogerio as he opened the door. “May I get anything for you while I am out?”
“I don’t think so,” Saint-Germain said after a moment’s hesitation.
“Will you see Doña Isabel?” Rogerio asked, his hand on the door-latch.
“No, not
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