want his head,’ Colonel Acoca said. ‘Cut off his head and the Basque movement dies.’
An exaggeration, the Prime Minister felt, although he had to admit that there was a core of truth in it. Jaime Miró was a charismatic leader, fanatical about his cause, and therefore dangerous.
But in his own way, the Prime Minister thought, Colonel Acoca is just as dangerous.
Primo Casado, the Director General de Seguridad, was speaking. ‘Your Excellency, no one could have foreseen what happened in Pamplona. Jaime Miró is –’
‘I know what he is,’ the Prime Minister snapped. ‘I want to know where he is.’ He turned to Colonel Acoca.
‘I’m on his trail,’ the Colonel said. His voice chilled the room. ‘I would like to remind Your Excellency that we are not fighting just one man. We are fighting the Basque people. They give Jaime Miró and his terrorists food and weapons and shelter. The man is a hero to them. But do not worry. Soon he will be a hanging hero. After I give him a fair trial, of course.’
Not we. I. The Prime Minister wondered whether the others had noticed. Yes, he thought nervously. Something will have to be done about the Colonel soon.
The Prime Minister got to his feet. ‘That will be all for now, gentlemen.’
The men rose to leave. All except Colonel Acoca. He stayed.
Leopoldo Martinez began to pace. ‘Damn the Basques. Why can’t they be satisfied just to be Spaniards? What more do they want?’
‘They’re greedy for power,’ Acoca said. ‘They want autonomy, their own language and their flag –’
‘No. Not as long as I hold this office. I’m not going to permit them to tear pieces out of Spain. The government will tell them what they can have and what they can’t have. They’re nothing but rabble who …’
An aide came into the room. ‘Excuse me, Your Excellency,’ he said apologetically. ‘Bishop Ibanez has arrived.’
‘Send him in.’
The Colonel’s eyes narrowed. ‘You can be sure the church is behind all this. It’s time we taught them a lesson.’
The Church is one of the great ironies of our history, Colonel Acoca thought bitterly.
In the beginning of the Civil War, the Catholic Church had been on the side of the Nationalist forces. The Pope backed Generalissimo Franco, and in so doing allowed him to proclaim that he was fighting on the side of God. But when the Basque churches and monasteries and priests were attacked, the Church withdrew its support.
‘You must give the Basques and the Catalans more freedom,’ the Church had demanded. ‘And you must stop executing Basque priests.’
Generalissimo Franco had been furious. How dare the Church try to dictate to the government?
A war of attrition began. More churches and monasteries were attacked by Franco’s forces. Nuns and priests were murdered. Bishops were placed under house arrest, and priests all over Spain were fined for giving sermons that the government considered seditious. It was only when the Church threatened Franco with excommunication that he stopped his attacks.
The goddamned Church! Acoca thought. With Franco dead it was interfering again.
He turned to the Prime Minister. ‘It’s time the bishop is told who’s running Spain.’
Bishop Calvo Ibanez was a thin, frail-looking man with a cloud of white hair swirling around his head. He peered at the two men through his pince-nez spectacles.
‘Buenas tardes.’
Colonel Acoca felt the bile rise in his throat. The very sight of clergymen made him ill. They were Judas goats leading their stupid lambs to slaughter.
The bishop stood there, waiting for an invitation to sit down. It did not come. Nor was he introduced to the Colonel. It was a deliberate slight.
The Prime Minister looked to Acoca for direction.
Acoca said curtly, ‘Some disturbing news has been brought to our attention. Basque rebels are reported to be holding meetings in Catholic monasteries. It has also been reported that the Church is allowing monasteries and convents to store arms for the rebels.’ There was steel in his voice. ‘When you help the enemies of Spain, you become an enemy of Spain.’
Bishop Ibanez stared at him for a moment, then turned to Leopoldo Martinez. ‘Your Excellency, with due respect, we are all children of Spain. The Basques are not your enemy. All they ask is the freedom to –’
‘They don’t ask,’ Acoca roared. ‘They demand! They go around the country pillaging, robbing banks and killing policemen, and you dare to say they are not our enemies?’
‘I admit that there have been inexcusable excesses. But sometimes in fighting for what one believes –’
‘They don’t believe in anything but themselves. They care nothing about Spain. It is as one of our great writers said, “No one in Spain is concerned about the common good. Each group is concerned only with itself. The Church, the Basques, the Catalans. Each one says fuck the others.”’
The bishop was aware that Colonel Acoca had misquoted Ortega y Gasset. The full quote had included the army and the government; but he wisely said nothing. He turned to the Prime Minister again, hoping for a more rational discussion.
‘Your Excellency, the Catholic Church –’
The Prime Minister felt that Acoca had pushed far enough. ‘Don’t misunderstand us, Bishop. In principle, of course, this government is behind the Catholic Church one hundred per cent.’
Colonel Acoca spoke up again. ‘But we cannot permit your churches and monasteries and convents to be used against us. If you continue to allow the Basques to store arms in them and to hold meetings, you will have to take the consequences.’
‘I am sure that the reports that you have received are erroneous,’ the bishop said smoothly. ‘However, I shall certainly investigate at once.’
The Prime Minister murmured, ‘Thank you, Bishop. That will be all.’
Prime Minister Martinez and Colonel Acoca watched him depart.
‘What do you think?’ Martinez asked.
‘He knows what’s going on.’
The Prime Minister sighed. I have enough problems right now without stirring up trouble with the Church.
‘If the Church is for the Basques, then it is against us.’ Colonel Acoca’s voice hardened, ‘I would like your permission to teach the bishop a lesson.’
The Prime Minister was stopped by the look of fanaticism in the man’s eyes. He became cautious. ‘Have you really had reports that the churches are aiding the rebels?’
‘Of course, Excellency.’
There was no way of determining
