The Time In Between (Sira Quiroga, #1)

by María Dueñas

If you’re finally able to get close to them, what we need is for you to sharpen your senses and register any relevant information that reaches your eyes and ears. Get hold of as complete an account as possible: names, businesses, firms, and products they mention; plans, activities, and any additional pieces of information you consider interesting.”

Remember there aren’t any guarantees about Da Silva’s dealings with the Germans, which is why his supposed disloyalty to the British is yet to be proved: as I’ve said, everything is currently in the realm of mere speculation and we don’t want him to suspect anything of our compatriots in Portugal.

And then I knew—the lady who smoked Craven A and who at that moment was leaving the room with no more than a muttered “Goodbye” was Captain Alan Hillgarth’s wife.

there was something more to him than that: something I could tell the moment we exchanged our first greeting and he ushered me onto the terrace overlooking the garden. Something that put me instantly on my guard. Intelligence. Wisdom. Determination. Worldliness. To deceive a man like that I’d need a whole lot more than a few charming smiles and an arsenal of flirtatious gestures.

languor /ˈlaNG(ɡ)ər/ I. noun 1. the state or feeling, often pleasant, of tiredness or inertia • he remembered the languor and warm happiness of those golden afternoons. 2. an oppressive stillness of the air • the afternoon was hot, quiet, and heavy with languor. II. derivatives 1. languorous /ˈlaNG(ɡ)(ə)rəs / adjective 2. languorously /ˈlaNG(ɡ)(ə)rəslē / adverb – origin Middle English: via Old French from Latin, from languere (see languish). The original sense was ‘illness, disease, distress,’ later ‘faintness, lassitude’; current senses date from the 18th cent., when such lassitude became associated with a sometimes rather self-indulgent romantic yearning.

You can see them with all their pearls and diamonds, wrapped in minks and ermines even in the height of summer, but they’re carrying handbags filled with

needed to keep João talking, however exhausting it might become: if I could learn about Da Silva’s past, then perhaps I might find out something about his present.

he achieved the greatest success of all. Cotton from the Cape Verde Islands, wood from Mozambique, Chinese silks from Macao. Lately he’d gone back to focusing on domestic operations, too: from time to time he’d travel to the interior of the country, although João wasn’t able to tell me what he dealt in there.

Don Manuel had a lot of friends, both Portuguese and foreign, some English, and yes, of course, the odd German lately, too;

Jewish refugees walking with heads bowed or queuing for a ticket to salvation, foreigners with a thousand different accents fleeing the war and its devastating effects. Among

Just like Casablanca

As though I were deaf and blind, as though that man had never been anything in my life and I hadn’t soaked his lapels with tears as I begged him not to leave me. As though the profound affection we’d formed between us had dissolved in my memory. I simply ignored him, fixed my gaze on the exit, and headed toward it with cold determination.

Snap out of it, girl, snap out of it! But since they weren’t around, I said it to myself. Yes, I had to snap out of it; I’d lowered my guard. Meeting Marcus had made a violent impression on me and had unearthed so many recollections and feelings, but now was not the time to allow myself to be taken over by nostalgia. I had an assignment, an obligation: a role to play, an image to project, and a task to take care

of.

“They use the silk to make parachutes, to protect gunpowder, and even for bicycle tires.”

“We Portuguese have long-standing commercial links to the English, though in these turbulent days you never know

“Herr Weiss is waiting for you. He says it’s urgent.”

acted as though being the object of the affections of a rich, attractive man was something that happened to me every day. But it wasn’t, which was why I had to redouble my caution—under no circumstances could I allow my emotions to run away with me: it was all work, just duty.

but I knew that I needed to keep my mind cool and my feelings far away.

The atmosphere in the Wonderbar was like that in the Hotel do Parque: ninety percent cosmopolitan. The only difference, I noted with a trace of concern, was that here the Germans weren’t in the majority: English was spoken everywhere, too.

“Baron von Kempel, an extraordinary man,”

“Rich Jews waiting for the war to end or to be granted a visa to travel to America.

The moment I opened them, my worst fears had been incarnated in human form. In an impeccable tuxedo, hair combed back, his legs slightly apart, hands in his pockets again, and a newly lit cigarette in his mouth—there sat Marcus Logan, watching us dance.

Rien ne va plus!

rien ne va plus [ ryan nuh va -ply ]SHOW IPA French. (in roulette) no further bets.

Beatriz Oliveira and I weren’t so different. Two hardworking girls from similar backgrounds, backgrounds that were modest and filled with struggle. Two journeys that began from points close to each other and at some point the paths diverged. Time had made her into a meticulously dedicated employee; me, an entirely fake façade. Most likely, though, what we had in common was much more real than our differences. I was staying in a luxury hotel and she would be living in some leaky house in a humble neighborhood, but we both knew what it meant to struggle our whole lives to prevent ill luck from nipping at our heels.

“And that there are even some Portuguese businessmen who are expanding their businesses at the cost of a few juicy contracts with the Nazis .

While he’d been busy playing both sides, not only had a fake Moroccan woman been poking around in his business, but a subversive leftist had already infiltrated his staff.

“I’m not really sure that this will be of any use to you, it’s not

a lot. I only know that Da Silva is in negotiations with the Germans over something related to the mines in Beira, a region in the interior of the country. He’s never had any dealings in that area before. It’s all recent, just over the last few months. Now he goes almost every week.”

“Something they call ‘the spit of the wolf.’ The Germans are insisting on exclusivity, for him to cut off his dealings with the British altogether. And on top of that he is to get the owners of the adjacent ...

“Weiss

Wolters.

They’re all going to be having dinner at his estate tomorrow—Thursday night: Don Manuel, the Germans, and the Portuguese owners of the neighboring mines in Beira.

been room to hope that beneath that attractive appearance was a decent human being. I knew now that that wasn’t the case, that regrettably the worst predictions had been correct.

He was trying hard to be charming, and as usual deploying the whole catalog of friendly phrases and amiable expressions, but no sooner had the person he was addressing turned away than his mouth adopted a serious, determined grimace that automatically disappeared again the moment he turned his focus back on me.

The floral arrangements throughout the room weren’t enough to mitigate the chilly atmosphere. Nor did the uncomfortable silence of all those present help to warm it up.

The one who negotiated with Serrano Suñer to install German antennas on Moroccan territory

and agreed to keeping these matters from Beigbeder. The one who never knew that I’d been listening to them, lying on the floor, hidden behind a sofa.

Weiss and Wolters were the Germans whom Bernhardt, who’d only just got in from Spain, didn’t know. Almeida, Rodrigues, and Ribeiro were the Portuguese from Beira, men from mountain country.

And then at last I heard the word I’d been waiting for: “tungsten.”

From somewhere deep in my memory I retrieved the information Hillgarth had furnished me with in Tangiers: it was a mineral crucial to the production of projectiles for the war.

And as I held on to that memory, I reco...

one of the people involved in buying it on a massive scale was...

Manuel Da Silva wasn’t busy buying and selling silk, wood, or any other equally innocuous products from the colonies, but something much more dangerous, more sinister: his new business concerned a metal that the Germans would use to reinforce their weaponry and enhance their capacity to kill.

Even though I didn’t yet have a complete picture of what it was they were negotiating, I was able to take in a large amount of loose information.

About how Da Silva had spent weeks cleverly pulling strings to get the main owners of the deposits to join forces to start dealing exclusively with the Germans. How if everything went according to plan, within two weeks they’d collectively put an abrupt stop to any sales to the English.

What I was hearing was so confidential, so appalling, so compromising that I preferred not to consider the consequences I’d have to face if Manuel Da Silva found out who I was and whom I worked for.

putting my overnight bag down on the floor. “It’s

Two rough guys who didn’t fit the tranquil setting that surrounded us.

Two shadows that were unmistakable: the two men who’d unsettled me during dinner.

One simple kiss from Manuel Da Silva had toppled all my convictions about his shady morals, and just an hour later I’d learned that he’d given the order to have me eliminated, my body tossed out through a train window into the night. The Judas kiss.