Midnight Harvest Read Online Free PDF Page A

shrugged. “We’re being watched. At least, I am.” He took off his jacket and changed the subject. “Will you draw me a bath?”
    “Yes.” Rogerio was not yet willing to abandon the matter. “Who is watching you?”
    “The army, I believe. Perhaps the police. It may be both of them.” He looked directly at Rogerio. “We have suspected this for some days, old friend. All that has happened is that the suspicions are confirmed.”
    “That is scarcely a minor matter,” said Rogerio. He studied Saint-Germain’s face. “Do you think perhaps we should leave for France sooner than we planned?”
    “I see no reason why, and I can think of several reasons not to,” said Saint-Germain. “I don’t think that leaving would improve my situation.”
    “That may be so, but you are unwilling to leave—what reasons do you have for remaining?” Rogerio achieved a nice balance between respect and testiness. “It isn’t because this is my native city. Gades,” he went on, using the old Roman name of the place, “is long gone. This is just another Spanish port now.” He studied Saint-Germain’s face. “You don’t like being forced to leave, do you?”
    “That is the heart of it,” Saint-Germain admitted. “But I have a few projects that haven’t yet come to fruition. If it is possible, I would prefer to remain here until they are established enough for me to leave them in the hands of—”
    Rogerio shook his head. “Your managers. Yes. All very well and good,” he said sharply. “But they may not achieve the goals you seek in the time you anticipate. And some of them may be influenced by the political climate.”
    “Of course they are,” said Saint-Germain, removing his jacket and handing it to Rogerio. “I’ll want my tails for tonight. White-tie.”
    “At the British Consul’s,” said Rogerio, still not willing to set aside his concerns quite yet. “Will you at least reconsider your position if the surveillance is increased? If the risks change, perhaps you should as well.”
    “Yes, I will,” Saint-Germain said. “You have my Word.” He glanced toward the bathroom. “Not too warm, but not too cold.” He spoke in Spanish again.
    “I have drawn baths for you one way and another for two thousand years,” Rogerio reminded him, also in Spanish. He went to hang up the jacket, saying as he did, “Do you know why you’re being watched?”
    “I have a few ideas,” said Saint-Germain dryly. “I have three businesses the government may want: the fuel-processing plant near Bilbao, the shipping business here, and the airplane-manufacturing company in Córdoba. They may also want the chemical company in Valladolid, but it is a less obvious prize, and, at the moment, not especially profitable.” He put two fingers to his brow. “They are becoming greedy, these new-style politicians, and they have enlisted the generals in their greed.”
    “Is that limited to Spain?” Rogerio asked as he went to turn the spigots for the deep, rose-marble bathtub. As the water began to rise, he went and adjusted the Venetian blinds so that the bathroom was in shadow.
    “Among other places. Look at Germany.” Saint-Germain glanced toward the window. “And Russia is in a terrible state.”
    “A bad situation,” said Rogerio, adjusting the temperature of the water.
    “And getting worse hourly,” said Saint-Germain, shaking his head slowly. “The Great War settled nothing.”
    Rogerio tested the water one more time. “What will you do if we must go?”
    “I suppose we’ll go to Montalia, as I promised Madelaine I would do.” Some of the severity of his expression softened as he spoke her name.
    “Is she still in Peru?” Rogerio asked.
    “As far as I am aware. She has discovered an Incan tomb and plans to excavate it.” He removed his tie and draped it over the back of a chair.
    “For whom?” Rogerio came and gathered up Saint-Germain’s shirt as he removed it. “Is it a private or a formal