The Convolutions of Catalonia

It is hard to determine whether Harry harbored any feelings beyond the task he needed to perform. He did indeed love Iniga in his own way but could it be said he felt that love in the form of an emotion for her? So many years of working within the context of spy-craft didn’t allow his emotions to determine how his operations were executed. He now had to find a way to get Iniga out of prison if he was to have any chance of getting his seed away from being adopted by a wealthy minion of Franco.

Harry had mixed feelings about what would become Nick; after all, Nicky would be raised in luxury and live a life of cushy privilege if Harry didn’t act. But, he feared the Franco grip on power was about to slip, or eventually be overturned, and he couldn’t predict how things would turn out for the ruling class in Spain. He also thought that, if he worked it right, Nicky could have American citizenship and get the hell out of Spain along with Iniga. This would take nothing more than obtaining a forged marriage certificate and bribing a few corrupt prison administrators. Finding the right corrupt prison official wasn’t all that difficult as they were as common as fleas on a cur around Madrid. However, a high profile Basque separatist such as Iniga posed a problem because she would be slated for a summery execution as soon as she gave birth.

Harry took a seat on a surreal bench with Commandante Rojelio at the Park Guell. The Comandante was tamping his pipe when Harry approached, pausing a minute to appraise an old acquaintance, “Senor Perro de Caza, it is good to see you are still alive.”

“Yes, and you have advanced in rank, Camandante, since I last saw you.” Harry was letting Rojelio know that he had inside information, knowing Rojelio’s rank, even though the Comandante was in plain clothes. He also knew he would have a hard time dealing with Rojelio because the man was one of the few decent people he knew in the Policia Armada.

“Who are you working for now, Harry?” Rojelio was especially suspicious of Harry Baker. He knew that Harry worked as an independent contractor and that meant he had no allegiance to anything, anyone, any ideology or faith.

“I’m doing this one on personal business. I know I can’t bend you with money but you can still help me, if you will.”

“It is about Iniga, eh?”

“Yes, and you know she is embarazada too.” Harry was glad that Rojelio came directly to the point. This saved them both a lot of time.

“Yes, she was fortunate I was her interrogator…” he finally lit his pipe, “I can tell, strangely enough, God must have a special love for that woman.”

“You can help then.”

“Donate some pesetas to the nuns at la Venta and you can get the child out if you act now. An adoption is in order and the vultures are circling with bids before Iniga’s belly even began to swell. I’m not so sure what it would take to get her released, but negotiations...”

“… I have a marriage certificate.”

“That might help but I can’t promise anything.”

“Do you find this park to be disorienting?” Harry didn’t like getting confused and the wavy undulations, swirling lines of the walkways and niches, evoked a bit of vertigo in his guts... or it could have been the carafes of wine from yesterday.

“No, it is a glorious tribute to the convolutions of the Catalonian politics we have to engage in to survive.”  He let out a wisp of smoke adding, “You ought to be used to that, Bird Dog.”