Chapter 32 Section VII

He left without a sound, leaving me alone with the most beautiful bouquet of orchids I have ever seen in my life.I resisted the urge to chase him out and hug him, trying to measure all that just now. When I approached the gate of the manor, I saw a row of cars parked near the side gate, a shiny black car, big and imposing. Da Silva's villa is in the suburbs, not too far from Estoril, but the distance is enough that I can't go back alone.Along the way, I secretly paid attention to the signboards along the road, Quinn, Marvera, Clares, and Sintra.But even then, I had no idea where I was.

Jon stopped the car slowly, tires squealing on the gravel.I waited for him to open the door for me.Take one leg first, slowly, and then the other.Then I saw da Silva hold out a hand towards me. "Welcome to Fonte Manor, Iris." I slowly got out of the car.The tight gold gown showed my curves, and I had an orchid in my hair that he had Camboa send me.I quickly searched for the assistant as I got out of the car, but he wasn't there. In the night, there is the scent of citrus blossoms and the coolness of Italian cypress. The lights on the front of the villa emit soft light, which seems to melt on the stone walls of the house.I took him on the arm and went up the porch stairs to find a commemorative coat of arms hanging over the gate.

"I think it must be the coat of arms of your family." I knew, of course, that an ancestral family crest would have been unthinkable to his tavern-keeper grandfather, but I don't think he could see the sarcasm in my words. The guests all waited in a spacious drawing room with luxurious and heavy furniture and a huge fireplace at the end.The scattered bouquets of flowers on the shelves did nothing to relieve the cold atmosphere in the room, nor did they add any enthusiasm to the uncomfortable silence of the guests present.I quickly counted, two, four, six, eight, ten.Ten people, five pairs, plus da Silva and me.There are twelve people in total.As if guessing what I was thinking, Manuel said to me:

"There is still someone missing, a German distinguished guest, who will be here soon. Come, Iris, let me introduce you." The numbers so far have been almost perfectly balanced: three pairs of Portuguese, two pairs of Germans, plus the pair that has yet to come.But only the number of people is symmetrical, because everything else seems particularly incongruous.The Germans are all dressed in black, dignified and discreet, which suits the place and the occasion.Their wives are not covered in jewels either, they dress exquisitely and tastefully, and have a confident and calm demeanor.In stark contrast, those Portuguese, as if from another world, no matter if they are men or women, they seem out of place here.The men wore high-end woolen suits, but their bodies were too poor, which greatly reduced the temperament of the clothes: a typical peasant body, with short legs, thick necks, and wide palms covered with calluses and broken nails.The three men had a few shiny gold pens stuck in their coat pockets, and when they smiled, they showed their golden false teeth.Their wives, too, are rough-looking, trying to keep their balance on shiny high-heeled shoes, though their swollen feet barely fit into the dainty ones.One of them wore a hideous hat, and the other had a huge leather shawl falling down from his shoulders.And the third one rubs his mouth with the back of his hand every time he eats a canape snack.

Before arriving, I mistakenly thought that Manuel had invited me to this party to show off to his guests, to use me as an exotic ornament to show his power and charm At the same time, he can also help him entertain the female guests present, chat with them about fashion, tell anecdotes about high German officials in Spain, or some other unimportant topics.However, as soon as I felt the atmosphere here, I knew I was wrong.Although Da Silva received me as another guest, he did not treat me as a dispensable extra, but asked me to host this party with him to help him manage those special events more precisely. guests.My role will be to be a hinge between the German women and the Portuguese women, to build a bridge between them, otherwise the two groups of women will have no way of communicating at all this evening except to stare at each other.Since he had important matters to discuss with those gentlemen, the last thing he wanted to see was a group of bored women sitting beside him, full of resentment, and eagerly hoped that their husbands would take them away.That's why he needs me, wants me to help him.I offered him an olive branch the day before, and he took it just in time: Let’s say we achieved a double Well, Manuel, I’ll give you what you want, I thought, but I hope you will too need.To make it all work out the way he expected, I condensed my fear into a small pill and swallowed it, revealing the most dazzling side of the fake me.Under such a disguise, I can exert my charm infinitely, and convey good feelings in a balanced way among ladies of two nationalities.I complimented the hats and shawls worn by the two ladies from Beria, made everyone laugh with a few jokes, let a Portuguese man touch my buttocks, and flattered the Germans with their sophistication .No shame.

Until a black cloud appeared at the door. "Excuse me, friends," announced da Silva, "to introduce you to Johannes Benhardt." He looked much older, fatter, and had lost a good deal of his hair, but there was no doubt that he was the same Benhardt from Tétouan.At that time he used to take a walk in the Rue Generalissimo with a lady on his arm, but he did not come with him this time.It was he who negotiated with Serrano Sunier to install German antennas on Moroccan soil, and agreed not to let Bergbel know about it.And he'll never know, I was hiding behind that couch, on the floor, hearing everything.

"I'm sorry I'm late. The car broke down on the way and we had to stop at Elvas for a long time." I took the glass of wine brought by the waiter, trying to hide my uneasiness, and quickly recalled the last time we met, how many times I met him on the street, and our meeting at the dinner party at the Governor's Palace that day probably How long did it last.Although when Hilgas told me that Benhardt had also emigrated to the Iberian Peninsula, where he managed matters closely related to the Nazi economic interests in Spain, I told him that even if we met by chance, he would Probably won't recognize me.But at this moment, I am not sure at all.

The introductions began, and just as the men were chatting enthusiastically, I turned my back on them and greeted the ladies with feigned enthusiasm.At this moment it was the orchid in my hair that everyone was talking about.I bent my knees slightly and turned my head to let them appreciate them carefully, while focusing on capturing some fragmentary information.I double-checked their names: the two Germans were Weiss and Walters, whom Bernhard didn't know because he had just arrived from Spain.Almeida, Rodriguez, and Ribeiro are the three Portuguese, Portuguese from Beria, mountain residents, and mine owners.Or to be precise, they were the owners of some barren land, but God buried a mine under their ground.What kind of mine is it?I do not know yet.To this day I still don't know what that damned "wolf's spit" that Beatriz Oliveira mentioned to me in church was.At this moment, I finally heard the answer Ya most longed for: tungsten.

I hastened to dig out from the depths of my memory the information that Hilgarth had given me in Tangier: this mineral, which can be used to make ammunition, is very important in war.In connection with this, another incident occurred to me. Ben Halder was also involved in a large-scale arms trade.But Hilgas only mentioned to me his interest in the mines of Galicia and Extremadura.Probably because at that time they had not anticipated that his tentacles would cross the border to Portugal, where he conspired with a treacherous entrepreneur who decided to stop supplying the British to satisfy the needs of their enemies.I noticed that my legs were starting to shake a bit and I took a sip of champagne to calm myself down.It turned out that Manuel da Silva's trade was not in silk or timber or some other frivolous colonial product, but in something far more dangerous and much more terrifying.His new business centered on supplying the Germans with a metal that would be used to top up their ammunition arsenals and further enhance their carnage capabilities.

The calling of the ladies woke me from my contemplation.They wanted to know where the beautiful flower behind my left ear came from, to make sure it was a real flower, to know how it was planted... countless questions that I had no interest in, but had to answer.It's a tropical flower; yes, of course it's true; no, no, I don't know if Beria is suitable for orchids. "Ladies, allow me to introduce you to my last guest." Manuel interrupted our conversation. I held my breath until it was my turn.I am the last one. "This is my dear friend, Miss Iris Agreck." He stared at me without blinking, for one second, two seconds, three seconds.

"do we know each other?" Smile, Sheila, smile, I said silently to myself. "No, I don't think I know him?" I said while stretching out my right hand tremblingly. "Perhaps you met somewhere in Madrid," said Manuel.Fortunately, he doesn't seem to know Bernhard well enough to know that he, too, had spent time in Morocco. "Maybe at the Embassy," I said. "No, no, I rarely stay in Madrid recently. I travel a lot and my wife prefers the sea, so we usually live in Denia, not far from Valencia. No, I think you look familiar, you should I've seen it elsewhere, but..." That's when the butler came to my rescue, announcing: Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is ready. In the absence of a hostess, Da Silva broke the rules by placing me at one end of the table and him at the other.I tried to hide my uneasiness and focus on the guests, but the anxious feeling was too much for me to eat.Camboa’s unexpected presence in my room had shocked me, now it’s Ben Halder’s unexpected arrival, and da Silva’s dirty business has just been discovered.As if all this wasn't enough, I even had to improvise the role of hostess. Soup was served in silver basins, wine was filled in crystal jugs, and seafood was served on huge covered trays.I dealt with everyone like a clown throwing a ball.Secretly telling the Portuguese ladies which cutlery to use for each course, while talking non-stop to the German ladies: Yes, of course I know Baroness Stochel; yes, Groly Ya van Furstenberg also knows, oh, of course, I know that Hochel will open in Madrid.The whole dinner was uneventful, and I'm glad Benhard didn't pay any attention to me. After everyone finished their desserts, Manuel announced: "Okay, ladies, now if you don't mind, we men will retreat to talk about things first." I held my breath and rubbed the tablecloth nervously with my fingers.No, you can't do this to me.I've done my part, now it's time to accept the rewards.I was so pleasing to all, and behaved like a most exemplary hostess, though I was not.I need compensation.Now is the time to proceed to the step I most desire, and I can't just ignore it like this.Fortunately, the unlimited wine at the table kicked in, and the spirits of the guests, especially the Portuguese, had been let down. "No, you bastard, no! Da Silva, for God's sake!" one of them yelled, slapping him hard on the back, "Don't be so old-fashioned, my friend! In this new In this era, men and women are equal everywhere!" Manuel hesitated.He certainly wanted the ensuing conversation to be more private.But those people from Beria didn't give him a chance to persist. They stood up from the table noisily, and walked to the living room just now emotionally.One of them put his arm on da Silva's shoulder, and the other put his arm on mine.Their first such event at a rich man's mansion, they looked almost jubilant once they got over their first-time formality.That night they were to make a deal that would henceforth end the history of poverty forever and leave rich fortunes for their sons, grandsons, and grandchildren.At a time like this, there was no reason for them to negotiate the deal behind their wives' backs. The servants brought coffee, wine, cigarettes, and sweets.It occurred to me that Beatriz Oliveira was in charge of ordering these.Those flower pots too, elegant and understated.I think the orchid I received that afternoon must have been chosen by her too.Thinking back on Marcus' unexpected visit, I shudder.Two emotions mixed together.I was moved because he cared so much about me, worried about my safety, and filled with fear because of the hat that was exposed in front of Camboa.Camboa never showed up.Maybe, in God's favor, he was having dinner with his family, listening to his wife complain about the rising price of meat, and forgot that he had just spotted another man in the room of the foreign woman the boss was courting. While he wasn't able to separate the ladies into another room, he at least managed to get everyone sitting in two different areas.The gentlemen sat at one end of the spacious living room in ottomans in leather chairs facing the dead fireplace, the ladies at the French windows looking out on the garden. While we complimented the quality of the chocolate, they also struck up a conversation.The Germans spoke first, making their demands in serious tones, and I had to prick my ears, and mentally record everything I heard from afar.Mine, concession, permit, tonnage.The Portuguese raised objections and objections, raised his voice, and spoke hastily and quickly.It is very likely that the Germans are desperately bargaining for the price, while the Beria men, the rude mountain people, have long been used to not even trusting their father, so of course they are not willing to be sent away by a price.Circumstances started to turn in my favor as their conversations became more intense and fully audible, sometimes loud.My brain is like a high-speed machine, constantly recording what they said.Although I don't fully understand what they are talking about, at least I can absorb most of the scattered materials.Pitways, baskets, trucks, boreholes and wagons.Free traded tungsten and controlled traded tungsten.High quality tungsten, no quartz and no pyrite.export tax.600,000 MOP per ton, 3,000 tons per year.Promissory notes, gold bars, Zurich accounts.Also, I got some precious and complete information.Da Silva, for example, has spent weeks trying to thread the needle to get these major mine owners to agree to do business only with the Germans.Also, if all goes as expected, they will collectively end supplies to the British within two weeks. The huge payment they mentioned made me understand why these tungsten mine owners and their wives have such an image of nouveau riche.This money is turning humble and poor peasants into wealthy men with barely a finger lift.The gold fountain pens in their pockets, the gold false teeth, and the leather shawls were but a fraction of what they were about to receive if they allowed the Germans to exploit their land without scruple. It was already dark.My fears grew as I learned the extent and scale of the deal.It was all so confidential, life and death at stake, that I didn't even dare to think about what would happen to me if Manuel da Silva found out who I really was.The men's conversation lasted for nearly two hours, and the conversation became more and more intense, while the atmosphere on the lady's side became more and more dull.Every time I sensed that their bargaining had reached an impasse, with no further information to be provided for a while, I refocused on their wives.But these Portuguese women don't know what I'm talking about and I'm trying to make them happy because they're almost overwhelmed by sleepiness.They have long been used to working at sunrise and resting at sunset.This kind of night of enjoying food and wine, eating candy and chatting is already unbearable for them.So I focused my energy on German women, but they also showed no active desire to communicate.After going through all the common topics, we couldn't find anything good to talk about, nor did we have the deeper language skills to keep the conversation alive. Gradually my audience became less and less, and the topics became less and less.My assistant master is about to end, and I have to find a way to prevent this place from completely falling silent.At the same time, you have to work hard to keep your head clear and continue to absorb the news from there.At this moment, the men sitting on the other side of the living room burst into laughter, and then heard clapping, hugging, and congratulations one after another. "First class carriage, room number eight." "Are you sure?" I showed him the ticket. "Great, I'll go with you." "No, really." He ignored my excuses. I have a few more hat boxes in my luggage than I did when I arrived in Lisbon, and two large bags full of whim purchases.The luggage had already been dispatched from the hotel in advance that afternoon.Everything else purchased for the boutique is shipped directly from the various suppliers and will arrive at me over the next few days.The only thing I carried with me was a small suitcase, which contained the necessary items for the night on the train.Of course there is something else, the picture book full of information.As soon as Manuel got out of the car he insisted on helping me with my suitcase. "It's not heavy at all, no need." I tried to keep it from my hand. But I lost without arguing because I knew I couldn't hold out.We walked into the waiting hall together, looking like the most stunning couple of the night.I was dressed in elegant and luxurious clothes, and he unknowingly presented evidence of his mutiny.The Santa Apolonia train station looked like a big, run-down house, and it was filled with waves of travelers on the night train to Madrid.Some are in pairs, some are with the whole family, some are friends in small groups, and some are alone.Some people seem to walk indifferently, because they are leaving a place that never resonates with any emotion; promise.And I don't belong to any of them, neither completely calm nor very emotional.I want to escape, eager to escape from all this, to wipe the dust off the soles of my shoes, and to forget the memories left behind forever and ever. I spent most of the day in my room, getting ready to go back to Madrid.On the surface it is.That's right, take the clothes off the hangers, empty the drawers, and stuff everything into luggage.But it didn't take long to do this.The rest of the time I shut the door and did other things: pencil in strokes all the information captured in da Silva's villa and translate it into tiny lines.This task took up a lot of my time.While everything I had just heard was still fresh in my mind, I started this work as soon as I got back to the hotel, which was already in the early hours of the morning.There was so much going on at this gathering that, if not recorded immediately, scattered details could melt in memory at any moment.I slept for about three or four hours.As soon as he woke up, he immediately went to work.Throughout the morning and the first few hours of the afternoon, I transformed the information in my head into long and short horizontal lines on the drawing book one by one, stroke by stroke, until it was filled with short and tight information.The final result is more than forty clothing patterns, full of names, numbers, dates, places and transactions, all accumulated in that seemingly simple book.Sleeves, cuffs, backs, belts, waists, fronts, sides, the many parts of clothing that would never actually be made into clothing, lurked at their fringes a sinister trade that would further fuel the German army's Arrogant. Just before noon the phone rang and I was so startled that I misplaced a short line I was drawing and had to erase it and start over. "Iris? Good morning, I'm Manuel. I hope I didn't wake you up." In fact, I woke up early, took a shower, was busy, and was very nervous.Although I have been working continuously for several hours, I pretended to have a voice that was still awake.Under no circumstances should he know that I am working so hard because of what I heard and saw yesterday. "It's okay, it must be very late now..." I pretended not to get up yet. "It's almost noon. I'm calling just to say thank you for coming to our party last night and thank you for helping me entertain the wives of my friends." "There's nothing to be thankful for. I had a good time last night, too." "Really? Didn't you feel bored? I regret it now and think I should pay more attention to you at that time." Beware, Sheila, beware, he's testing you, I thought.Camboa, Marcus, the hat left on the desk, Ben Halder, Tungsten, Beria, all these piled up in my heart like cold blades, but I still pretended to be careless and full of enthusiasm. Sleepy languid voice. "No, Manuel, don't worry, really. I find it very interesting talking to the wives of your friends." "That's good. What are your plans for the last day in Portugal?" "No plans at all. Take a good shower and pack your bags. I don't intend to leave the hotel all day." Hope this answer satisfies him.If Camboa had told him what happened yesterday, that he already knew that I had met other men behind his back, maybe I would have cleared his suspicions by hiding in the hotel room all day.Obviously, my words are not enough, he will arrange for someone to monitor my room, and even listen to the phone.But I don't want to talk to anyone but himself.I'll be a good girl, hiding in the hotel, not using the phone, not accepting any visitors.I'll let them see me bored alone in restaurants, receptions, and lobbies.And when I leave, I will show all the guests and service staff that I have no companions except luggage.However, while I thought so, he made another suggestion. "Yes, it is time for you to take a good rest. But before you go, I must say goodbye to you. Let me accompany you to the station. When does the train leave?" "Ten o'clock at night." I replied.The thought of seeing him again made me feel extremely depressed. "Then I'll be at your hotel at nine o'clock, okay? I wish I could come earlier, but I'm going to be very busy all day today..." "It's okay, Manuel, I also need some time to pack my things. I will check my luggage to the train station in the afternoon and wait for you at the hotel." "Then see you at nine o'clock in the evening." "Okay, I'll be ready by nine o'clock." This time it wasn't Jon's Bentley, but a sporty Aston Martin in glory.When I found out that the old driver didn't show up, I panicked.I felt inexplicable unease and resistance at the thought of the two of us being alone.But he didn't seem to be there at all. I didn't see any change in his attitude towards me, and I didn't show any suspicion.He was just as obliging, funny, and seductive as ever, as if his whole world revolved around those Chinese silks he had shown me the last time he was in the office, and had nothing to do with the dirty tungsten trade.We drove down the coastal road one last time, roaring through the streets of Lisbon, turning heads of passers-by.Twenty minutes before the departure of the train, we arrived at the platform.He insisted on boarding the train with me and accompanying me into the room.We walked through the corridor on one side, me in front, he in the back, a step away from me, still holding my small box in my hand, which contained evidence of his dirty dealings, and innocent toiletries, cosmetics Put it together with pajamas. "Number Eight, we're here," I announced. The door was open, revealing a small elegant room, spotlessly clean.Wooden panels on the walls, drawn curtains, seats, and unmade beds. "Well, my dear Iris, it's time to say goodbye." He said as he put his luggage on the ground, "It's really nice to meet you, I don't feel comfortable without you .” He seemed genuinely affectionate.Maybe the speculation about Camboa denouncing me was really unfounded, maybe I was too nervous, maybe he never thought of denouncing his master, and Manuel's admiration for me remained unchanged. "It was an unforgettable experience, Manuel," I said, extending my hand to him. "I can't imagine a more satisfying itinerary. My customers will be amazed by what I bring home." I was dumbfounded. And you helped me arrange everything so conveniently and orderly, I really don't know how to thank you." He grabbed my hand and held it in his.I gave him my best smile, but behind the smile I desperately wanted to run away, hoping that this drama would end soon.A few minutes later, the station master would blow the whistle, lower the signal flag, and the wheels of the Lusitania Express would spin on the rails, away from the Atlantic Ocean, and head towards the hinterland of the peninsula.And Manuel da Silva and his terrible dealings will be left behind forever, along with a restless Lisbon and a strange world. The last few passengers hurried onto the train.From time to time we had to lean against the wall of the car to make way for them. "Manuel, you'd better go down." "I think so, I should go." This farewell farce is finally coming to an end, and I can finally walk into the room and regain my peace.As long as he disappears, everything will be solved.Just then, out of the blue, I noticed his left hand on the back of my neck, his right arm around my shoulders, and his hot lips were on mine, and I slapped him from head to toe. chills.This deep kiss, warm and long, made me very confused. I had no ability to resist, and I didn't react for a long time. "Have a nice trip, Iris." I couldn't answer because he didn't give me time.Before I could say anything, he left. I slumped down on the seat, recalling what happened in the past few days in my mind like a movie.Recalling those plots and scenes, I silently asked myself, how many characters in this strange movie will I meet again in this life, and how many will never see each other forever.I sorted out the endings of each thread: happiness was rare, and the vast majority were up in the air.And just as the feature film is coming to an end, the last scene is Manuel da Silva's kiss.I still have his taste in my mouth, but it's hard to find a word to describe the feeling: natural, passionate, outrageous, sexy.Maybe both, maybe neither. I stood up in my seat and looked out through the glass of the window, which swayed slightly as the train swayed.The last bits of neon in Lisbon flashed before my eyes, getting farther and farther away, more and more blurred, gradually dissolving and disappearing, until it was dark.I stood up because I needed some air.It's time for dinner. The food truck was almost full when I went in.The seats were full of people, the smell of food wafted in the air, and the clink of tableware and people's conversations could be heard everywhere.After a few minutes I sat down, ordered food and a glass of wine to celebrate my liberation.As I waited for the food to be served, I idled anticipating what to expect when I got back to Madrid, imagining how Hilgars would react when he learned of the rewards of my trip.It is likely that he had no idea that I would have such a bountiful harvest. Sprinkles and dishes came quickly.But by then I had realized that this dinner was not going to be a very pleasant one.Unfortunately, sitting next to me were two rough men who had been looking at me shyly since I sat down.Two rough and shabby-looking guys, out of tune with the solemn environment around them.There were several bottles of wine on their table, and there were many dishes, and they gorged themselves as if the end of the world was coming.I could hardly eat, nor was I in the mood to enjoy the elegant silk tablecloths, goblets, and attentive waiters.I just want to finish my meal as quickly as possible, get back to my room, and get rid of these two unpleasant companions.