“It might be easier to find newcomers from Angola than a European hardly anyone has seen. Unless there are any photographs of Captain Loveless around, and I don’t suppose there are likely to be many.”

“None. Just Nacimento’s description, which you already have.”

“And which could apply to almost anyone.”

The General said, worrying: “If we only knew how long he’d been here, that would be a help of some sort.”

I told him: “Less than four months, that much we know.”

“Oh?”

“There was a report in Jeune Afrique four months ago. According to them, Loveless is a bit of a hero. They said he’d left Angola some time back, was then fighting for the Biafrans in Nigeria, and about to leave West Africa on a ‘special mission.’”

The General said instantly: “Biafra. A good cause to fight for.”

“Perhaps. It seems he led a raid on a bank in Lagos, to get funds for the Biafran army.”

We were sipping our drinks together, and suddenly the General remembered his manners again. He said, leaping up: “And I didn’t even offer you a cigar. I don’t smoke, myself, and I sometimes forget.”

I said: “And neither do I. A foolish habit, I’ve always felt.”

“Ah, good then.” He sat down again and asked: “Did the report say whether or not the Biafrans had actually benefited by the raid?”

“It did indeed. Roughly a hundred thousand dolars’ worth of local currency was stolen, and the Biafrans got half of it. The rest, according to Jeune Afrique, was being ‘held back,’ whatever that means, for a ‘special project.’ Whatever that means too.”

He said thoughtfully: “Nigeria. So Angola’s been made too hot for him. Is that a small triumph?”

“Not really. The only triumph will be when we get him. If we can persuade him to talk enough to clear you. And that’s a moot point, isn’t it?”

“And Biafra’s liable to be too hot for him soon, too. Not many places left for the mercenaries to work, are there?”

Well, he was quits wrong there.

I said: “Out of all the new countries in Africa that have emerged in the last ten years, there’s fighting going on in ninety-nine percent of them. That means plenty of scope for the professional fighter, on one side or the other. And if Africa ever settles down, there’s always Central America, with South America about to go the same route, too. And by the time that’s all finished, they’ll have started over again in Africa. If, indeed, they ever stop. If you know how to use a gun, and you’re short on scruples and long on toughness, there’s always someone to hire you. Loveless presumably speaks good Portuguese?”

“Yes, apparently he does.”

“Well enough to fool a Portuguese?”

“Well enough to fool an Angolan. There’s the question of accent, of course, it’s quite distinct.”

“We can assume that he’s traveling either without a passport or with a forged one.”

He shrugged. “A landing somewhere along the coast, a small boat from Tangiers, it wouldn’t be difficult.”

Now I wanted the quid for the quo.

I said: “Now tell me, General, why the Army doctors are interested in Fenrek’s red tide.”

“Oh, that...”

It didn’t seem very important to him, and, to tell the truth, it wasn’t very important to me either. But I’m a curious kind of man, and anything that seems even a trifle out of kilter, I want to know about. It’s strange how far apart cause and effect can apparently be and still be part of the same pattern, I recalled that Goethe had made that point once. On the surface, Fenrek’s little problem had nothing at all to do with mine, but...Well, you can’t just let the oddities slip by without inquiring about them, or you’ll go through life in an intellectual vacuum.

He looked at me sharply all of a sudden, and asked: “You think there’s a connection?”

“A connection? How should there be?”

He shook his head. “It occurred to me that you’re concerned with a soldier, a professional fighting man, and Fenrek is dealing with the Army, you’re both here in Lisbon at the same time...Is there a connection?”

“No stronger a connection than you’ve implied. But I still want to know. Why is the Army interested at all? We can accept Fenrek’s involvement in what ought to be a purely medical matter, because of those criminal overtones in Scotland. But the Army? Why, General?”

He sighed. “You are a persistent man, Senhor Cain! And I wasn’t trying to evade the question. It’s simply that the Army was supposed to be carrying out a small-scale exercise during the night along the beach where those fishermen died. It was called off at the last moment because one of the three landing craft involved broke down. They’re rather...ancient. But it occurred to someone that a small detachment had just escaped being wiped out. They wanted to make sure that it was merely coincidental.”

“And was it?”

He didn’t take his eyes off me. “Of course. Obviously.”

A little pause, and then: “Wouldn’t you say so?”

I couldn’t think why he should want to fence with me so carefully. The natural discretion of the good politician? I said, not wanting to hide anything from him:

“If the nebulous thoughts at the back of my mind ever begin to make sense, then there’d be a very plausible reason for a minor attack on a small military contingent.”

He had the intelligence—or the grace—not to look surprised. He just stood there, his fists at momentary rest on his hips and looked at me, and he said at last, very quietly:

“A test of some sort?”

“Exactly.”

He said: “If you’re thinking what I think you are thinking...You might be on to a very dangerous business, Senhor Cain.” Almost without stopping, he shook his head suddenly and said: “No. No! Whichever way you look at it; it just doesn’t make sense!”

I said: “But it just could. It just might be a very logical progression. Can I call on Nacimento if and when the problem of identification crops up?”

“Of course. He’s up at the castelo, any time you want him.”

“And I can trust him implicitly?”

“Implicitly. He’s a very good man. Our Army’s not very democratic, I suppose, but we occasionally do have promotion from the ranks, and I once almost gave Nacimento a Commission. He’d have made a very good officer.”

“But you didn’t?”

He sighed. “No, though in retrospect, I wish I had. I think perhaps I was being a little unfair to him. I just didn’t want to lose him. And when I realize how I’ve been held back from a career that would have been very close to my heart, then I feel that on a smaller scale I really inflicted the same kind of obstruction on Nacimento. But he is very happy now, a sergeant in the Honor Guard.”

Passing through the house on my way out, I shook hands again with Dona Clara, and admired her roses, set off now in a beautiful silver urn on the hall table. The servant was there, holding the front door open and eyeing me slyly when he thought I wasn’t looking. I had to bend my head to get through the door.

The General said, shaking hands; “Come back and dine with us tonight, can you do that?”

I said: “I would like that very much. May I bring Fenrek’s niece with me? Astrid Tillot?”