‘I didn’t ask that. It just seems unlikely -’
Zulaika interrupts me, jutting forward, as if I have offended him. ‘Unlikely?’ He’s like a petulant teenager who hasn’t got his way. I have the sense that this is the first time he has properly articulated his theory, and he won’t like anyone testing it for flaws. ‘Last month a respected expert at the United Nations, the same United Nations that Spain and America chooses to ignore over Iraq, proved that our Basque prisoners have been subjected to torture and abuse in Spanish jails. It is still going on, Alec, to this day. The UN showed that those detained were beaten, that they were kept awake for long hours and forced to exhaust themselves with physical exercise, that they have plastic bags placed over their heads just to give the guards something to laugh about, that they are starved and beaten. It is Guantánamo on our own Spanish soil. You’re naïve if you think that a dirty war is not being fought against ETA and al-Qaeda all the time. The ringleaders of the GAL are still treated as heroes by the majority in Spain. They walk into a restaurant and there is applause. But when a family from Euskal Herria wins compensation for the way they have been mistreated by the police, it can take ten years to receive the money. This is of course disgusting and the United Nations report also points this out. So what we are seeing now is just a scaling up of an already existing problem.’
Zulaika shakes his head as if to deflect any potential rebuttal of his argument and leans back in his seat, draining another glass of water. The zealot at rest. What would be the point in drawing to his attention ETA’s own record of more than 800 dead over a period of thirty years, the thousands injured, the families obliterated by terror? Isn’t it time it all stopped? Too many lives have been taken for the sake of a line on a map which will never be drawn. I manage to say only this:
‘Patxo, you have to agree that these are not good times for ETA. From what I read in the British newspapers, a lot of the leadership has been rounded up. The French have got their own anti-terrorist police, they’re working in conjunction with the Spanish, extradition is a lot easier than it used to be. Why would Aznar or his subordinates risk that by launching another GAL? It just doesn’t make sense.’
He pauses and calls the waitress over, requesting two cups of coffee. For once, she ignores Xavi, who sleeps. It has dawned on me that Zulaika must have knowledge of Buscon’s role in the Arenaza abduction. A mercenary figure would validate his conspiracy. The masterminds behind both dirty wars disguised their links to the plot by hiring foreign extremists to do their dirty work for them. Kitson himself said that Buscon was a member of Portugal’s Secret Service. Several right-wing figures from the Portuguese underworld were involved in the GAL.
‘Let me answer that in two ways,’ he replies, following some truck drivers with his eyes as they exit the restaurant. ‘First, ETA is not finished. Not at all. It is like the serpent. You cut off its head and three more will grow in its place. The gudaris will simply bring the fight to France, and they will base themselves elsewhere: in Belgium, in more hospitable countries. Secondly, you must always remember that the Spanish are a vengeful people. Vengeance is in their blood. Perhaps as a tourist you do not see this. You see smiling families on the streets of Madrid and all the nice weather in Marbella and you think that nothing is wrong here. But they are cruel and morbid.’
‘I don’t accept that at all. You said the same thing about the English.’ And don’t call me a fucking tourist, you prick. ‘If nationalism shows us anything, it is that all human beings, of whatever creed or colour, are capable of appalling acts of violence, of horrific cruelty. We all have it inside us, Patxo. You, me, the chef who made our beans. Madrid doesn’t have the monopoly on inhuman behaviour.’ His forehead creases up, as if he has failed to understand what I am saying. I don’t bother to go back and translate. ‘Let’s just stick to the facts. All you have are two dead bodies and no suspects and suddenly the entire Spanish state is involved in a third dirty war?’
The waitress has set down Zulaika’s cup of coffee into which he pours two packets of sugar, stirring as he composes his response. She seems to flinch at mention of the term ‘dirty war’ and looks worriedly into my eyes. Her face is white with fatigue and there is a slight pink rash on the underside of her chin. It has suddenly become very warm inside the restaurant and I take off my sweater, setting it on the seat beside me.
‘Do you know the story of Segundo Marey?’ Zulaika asks.
Marey was kidnapped by the GAL and held for ten days in 1983, despite having no discernible relationship with ETA. He was the most high-profile of the innocent victims caught up in the second dirty war. To see where Zulaika is going with this, and to keep up an impression of general ignorance about Basque history, I shake my head and say ‘No.’
‘The Marey family are Basques. Like many people, they were forced to leave Euskal Herria in the Civil War because of the activities of the fascist troops under Franco. Segundo was four years old when he was brought across the border into France. As an adult, he lived a blameless life working at a furniture business. He played an instrument in a brass band and wrote about the bullfights for a small local newspaper. Then, at Christmas 1983, a thug from the French Foreign Legion comes to his door, knocks down his wife with tear gas and takes him away. He had been kidnapped by the GAL on the orders of the civil governor of Vizcaya, a man who later became director of state security in all of Spain. The pimp had the phone number of the chief of police of Bilbao in his pocket. Do not forget these important connections. So they take Segundo to a shepherd’s hut in the hills near Laredo where he is kept in conditions that you would not allow for a pig. Only they realize very quickly that they have made a mistake. A balding 50-year-old furniture salesman who writes about the corrida is not the same thing as a 37-year-old gudari with a full head of hair who happens to live on the same street as Marey in Hendaye. But do they let him go? Of course they do not. They decide to take political advantage of the situation. They want to alarm the French and to bring to their attention the subject of so-called terrorism in France. Ten days later – ten days later - Marey was released and discovered by police, propped up against a tree in the woods near Dantxarinea. He was filthy and had not eaten. There was a note in his shirt pocket. I keep a copy of it with me in recent days. Would you like to see it, Alec?’
Before I have a chance to reply, Zulaika has reached into his briefcase and retrieved a single piece of A4, folded once and still relatively crisp and fresh. I would guess that it was printed out in the last three or four days.
Because of the increase in murders, kidnappings and extortion committed by the terrorist organization ETA on Spanish soil, planned and directed from French territory, we have decided to eliminate this situation. The Grupos Antiterroristas de Liberación (GAL) founded with this object, put forward the following points:
1. Each murder by the terrorists will have the necessary reply, not a single victim will remain without a reply.
2. We will demonstrate our idea of attacking French interests in Europe, given that its government is responsible for permitting the terrorists to operate in its territory with impunity.
3. As a sign of goodwill and convinced of the proper evaluation of the gesture on the part of the French government, we are freeing Segundo Marey, arrested by our organization as a consequence of his collaboration with the terrorists of ETA.