them, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even help himself. The two guards stood stolidly on each side of the door and the clerk continued to write, and gradually the shadows lengthened as the sun went down.
One of the soldiers switched on the light, and soon after, the door opened and Rojas came out. He was carrying his hat and cane and when he saw Manning, he smiled.
'I knew there was something. Take Senor Manning to the Special Section. Tell Cienaga to put him in the Hole. I'll deal with him personally tomorrow.'
'But there is already a prisoner in the Hole, Colonel,' the little clerk said.
Rojas frowned. 'Who is it?'
The clerk glanced furtively at Manning and then whispered into his chief's ear. Rojas laughed harshly and placed the panama on his head, pulling the brim down over his eyes.
'Put them together by all means. The situation, while ironic, is full of possibilities.' He opened the door and turned. 'Till tomorrow, Manning. Think about what I said.'
They pulled Manning to his feet and took him out into the corridor and along to the far end. There was a stone staircase built into the wall and at the top, an iron grille. The guard on the other side glanced out and then unlocked it. They walked along a broad passage past several cell doors and came to another iron gate. Again, a guard inspected them before opening it.
They walked along a dark section of passage and emerged onto a long gallery. Chicken wire had been fastened across the pillars from floor to ceiling, but far below, Manning could see the main hall of the fortress.
The roof arched to a centre point supported by great oaken beams black with age, which lifted from a narrow stone ledge at each end of the great hall. On the other side he could see a similar gallery, but without the chicken wire.
They reached the end of the gallery and paused outside another iron gate. The soldier who unlocked it looked enquiringly at Manning and then opened a door on the left and called, 'Cienaga! They've brought you another one.'
The man who emerged from the room was short and squat with a great breadth of shoulder and arms so long that the fingertips almost reached the level of his knees. His face was one of the most brutal Manning had ever seen, long, greasy hair hanging to shoulder-length on either side. At some time in the past, his nose had been smashed so badly that it was now almost flat, and tiny black eyes glittered malevolently.
He carried a bunch of keys and hitched at his pants as he came forward. 'And what have we here?'
'Englishman,' one of the guards said. 'Colonel Rojas wants you to put him in the Hole with the other one. Says he'll be up to deal with him tomorrow.'
'Englishman, eh?' Cienaga sucked in his breath sharply and spat full in Manning's face. 'Pig.'
Something snapped inside Manning at the feel of the cold slime on his cheek. All his pent-up rage and fury erupted in one beautiful punch that swung all the way from the waist and connected with the side of the Cuban's jaw.
Both soldiers moved a split second later. One gun butt thudded into his back, the other glanced from the side of his head. There was a moment of searing pain and then darkness flooded in on him.
12
Enter Comrade Orlov
He drifted up from a deep pit of darkness into a place of shadows. He was lying on an iron cot from which the mattress had been removed and the springs dug painfully into his back.
It was almost dark outside and a shaft of grey light drifted in through a narrow slot in the stone wall, giving definition to the room but no more. It was bitterly cold and he pushed himself up and swung his legs to the floor. Immediately, he was conscious of the pain and touched the side of his head gently and found clotted blood.
'Who's there?' he said sharply.
'Ah, English?' the other said, speaking with a slight accent that Manning couldn't place. 'How interesting.'
'Isn't it just?' Manning said. 'And who the hell might you be?'
The man moved across and
One of the soldiers switched on the light, and soon after, the door opened and Rojas came out. He was carrying his hat and cane and when he saw Manning, he smiled.
'I knew there was something. Take Senor Manning to the Special Section. Tell Cienaga to put him in the Hole. I'll deal with him personally tomorrow.'
'But there is already a prisoner in the Hole, Colonel,' the little clerk said.
Rojas frowned. 'Who is it?'
The clerk glanced furtively at Manning and then whispered into his chief's ear. Rojas laughed harshly and placed the panama on his head, pulling the brim down over his eyes.
'Put them together by all means. The situation, while ironic, is full of possibilities.' He opened the door and turned. 'Till tomorrow, Manning. Think about what I said.'
They pulled Manning to his feet and took him out into the corridor and along to the far end. There was a stone staircase built into the wall and at the top, an iron grille. The guard on the other side glanced out and then unlocked it. They walked along a broad passage past several cell doors and came to another iron gate. Again, a guard inspected them before opening it.
They walked along a dark section of passage and emerged onto a long gallery. Chicken wire had been fastened across the pillars from floor to ceiling, but far below, Manning could see the main hall of the fortress.
The roof arched to a centre point supported by great oaken beams black with age, which lifted from a narrow stone ledge at each end of the great hall. On the other side he could see a similar gallery, but without the chicken wire.
They reached the end of the gallery and paused outside another iron gate. The soldier who unlocked it looked enquiringly at Manning and then opened a door on the left and called, 'Cienaga! They've brought you another one.'
The man who emerged from the room was short and squat with a great breadth of shoulder and arms so long that the fingertips almost reached the level of his knees. His face was one of the most brutal Manning had ever seen, long, greasy hair hanging to shoulder-length on either side. At some time in the past, his nose had been smashed so badly that it was now almost flat, and tiny black eyes glittered malevolently.
He carried a bunch of keys and hitched at his pants as he came forward. 'And what have we here?'
'Englishman,' one of the guards said. 'Colonel Rojas wants you to put him in the Hole with the other one. Says he'll be up to deal with him tomorrow.'
'Englishman, eh?' Cienaga sucked in his breath sharply and spat full in Manning's face. 'Pig.'
Something snapped inside Manning at the feel of the cold slime on his cheek. All his pent-up rage and fury erupted in one beautiful punch that swung all the way from the waist and connected with the side of the Cuban's jaw.
Both soldiers moved a split second later. One gun butt thudded into his back, the other glanced from the side of his head. There was a moment of searing pain and then darkness flooded in on him.
12
Enter Comrade Orlov
He drifted up from a deep pit of darkness into a place of shadows. He was lying on an iron cot from which the mattress had been removed and the springs dug painfully into his back.
It was almost dark outside and a shaft of grey light drifted in through a narrow slot in the stone wall, giving definition to the room but no more. It was bitterly cold and he pushed himself up and swung his legs to the floor. Immediately, he was conscious of the pain and touched the side of his head gently and found clotted blood.
'Who's there?' he said sharply.
'Ah, English?' the other said, speaking with a slight accent that Manning couldn't place. 'How interesting.'
'Isn't it just?' Manning said. 'And who the hell might you be?'
The man moved across and
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