Basques.’ He lifted his bitter gaze to David’s. ‘The Basques are a very brave nation, rebellious, indomitable. They were always brawling in the camp, fighting the Nazis, making things difficult for Fischer, trying to escape.’ José shook his head. ‘So I became a traitor to them. Yes a traitor. I told Fischer I would use my influence, make his work easier. I would persuade the Basques to cooperate. But only if he took me out of the Cagot division and gave me back my blood.’
‘And that’s what he did?’
José’s voice dwindled to a whisper, once more.
‘That is what happened. They pretended they had put me in the Cagot barracks by mistake. So I was restored, I was made a Basque once more! And then I used my influence. To…help Eugen Fischer do his terrible experiments…I persuaded other people to let Fischer test them. And so Fischer became a kind of friend to me. He told me too much. He told me of the Jews…’
‘What? What of the Jews?’
José regarded David.
‘The Holocaust. Eugen Fischer told me – why the Germans did what they did. The truth of the Holocaust. That is all I can say.’
‘What?’
José’s eyes were fluttering. Almost as if he was falling asleep. David reckoned the old man must be exhausted: confessing these murderous and long-buried secrets. He let go of José’s arm. But continued the questioning:
‘José, I need to know about Miguel. All this is the reason Miguel killed my parents. Right? He is ashamed of his Cagot blood. Yes?’
‘Yes. This is the worst mistake I ever made. I told my son the truth, when he was maybe nineteen. He never forgave me. He was so proud to be Basque up to then. The great ETA activist…’
‘So he was angry. And he thought my mother and father…were about to uncover his shame.’
‘Sı.’
‘And then he finds out I am on the same chase. And he needs to kill me, too.’
The wind rattled the dusty glass in the windows.
‘Sı sı. It is so.’ José grimaced. ‘But there is still more…Davido.’
‘My grandfather, you mean?’ David felt the question hanging in the air, like the dampness of the house. A revenant of the past. A ghost he had to exorcise. ‘Tell me, José. Was my grandfather…was he also a collaborator?’
‘No!’ The reply was fierce. ‘Do not think that! Your grandfather was a good man. No…I mean Miguel.’
‘What? What is it?’
‘There is something strange and terrible about my son. You must be very careful. Sometimes I have thought about killing him myself. Before he kills me. Before he kills everyone. He will kill me one day.’
‘Why?’
‘It is the way he is made. By God. My son is…bad to the bone. Is that the phrase? And yet I love him. He is my son. Remember I am so old, I thought I would never have a child, but then young Fermina…we had a baby. A son. We were so happy. Ena semea…’
The old man’s eyes were bright, for the first time in days; then they dimmed over again, dimmed unto darkness.
‘But as he grew up…we realized he has the true shame of the Cagots. The true shame. But he is big and strong and clever. And he has friends, helpers. Powerful people you do not understand. The Society.’
‘What is the Society?’
‘No. I cannot say. Enough. Please.’ The tears were rolling now. ‘Leave me this last shame to conceal.’ José wiped the smears of the elver grease from his mouth. ‘I have told you far far too much. Too much, too late. If I tell you more no one will let you live. Because the secret Miguel is protecting is not just about me, about me and him and the Cagots. It is far far deeper than that, Davido, it is so terrible and dangerous, for us all, for all la humanidad. The secret will get you killed, if not by Miguel then by someone else. His friends. The Society. Anyone.’ The old man looked, hard, at David. ‘You understand? I am saving your life by not telling you any more!’
This was more than perplexing. It was bizarre. David sat in the half-lit dampness, trying to work it out. The rain was still nailing slates on the roof. Through the window he could see the fog, the votive mist summoned from the forests by the downpour; the streams were brawling down the slopes, to join the torrential Adour.
David tried again, one more question. But José was resolutely unforthcoming. The old man, it seemed, had had