For those looking for the next instalment of David Yates’ The Last Bullfighter, here’s Part One of Chapter Eight. Part Two follows tomorrow. Ed
The day of reckoning had arrived and, for the espionage team, it began very early – at three o’clock in the morning. After pulling on dark balaclavas and slapping on layers of black makeup, they slipped out of the town and headed for the beach bar, where all the guns had been locked up ready for the target-shooting competition on Breakfast TV.
Quietly and stealthily, they picked the door and cupboard locks, and hauled each gun out of its rack for some final adjustments, with a screwdriver and some metal bungs. Now that the guns were ready, the next task for the espionage teams was to tackle the farms – or rather the few workers left in charge of the farms.
Everyone else had gone to the beach. With those six Amigos soon tied up, they were free to get the bulls in place. Next to get into position was the outside broadcasting unit at 4 am. The breakfast show started at six, so there were final preparations to be made to ensure the programme ran according to plan. Margarita, Rosa and Colette, were tense but confident that the day would belong to them.
The townsfolk also rose unusually early that morning – at 5 am. They wanted to be in the terraced seating around the main stage by six. There was no one left in the town. Even the old folks were wheeled down to the beach. Nobody wanted to miss this chance to be on national TV.
In the Atlas Mountains the birds made their last minute preparations – stuffing hawthorns into their wing feathers, and eating more cold curry and beans. Fully laden, they took off and began to mass in great dark clouds above Tangiers. Spotting them through a telescope on the other side of the Mediterranean, a lookout could hardly believe his eyes.
“Wait until Valera sees this! I’ve never seen so many birds in the sky before – you can hardly see the sun.”
At exactly six o’clock, live Breakfast TV from the beach started, and the outside broadcasting cameras beamed shots of the waving townsfolk to the early-rising nation. The two presenters introduced the line-up, and moved straight over to the news desk. The weather girl came on, putting the usual mass of orange sun stickers all over a large map of Spain and its near neighbours.
As the TV programme moved on to the regular first fitness session on the beach, the bulls moved in orderly herds out of their farms, and the birds set off across the blue sea. Back in the deserted town, the espionage team completed some more tasks, and at the heliport Margarita prepared for take-off in the helicopter.
At seven o’clock the TV presenters introduced the star guest – the famous Scottish film star. The crowd cheered, and again the television cameras swept the tiers of seats to capture their ecstatic images for national TV. As the interview progressed, the bulls arrived at their final positions, the birds reached the middle of their crossing, and Valera and his men drew their guns from the racks ready for the next article on Breakfast TV – a target-shooting competition on the beach.
Margarita’s helicopter took off, the birds were less than five miles away, and with the film star’s interview over, the news and weather teams gave one more presentation. After the commercial break, the cameras switched to a scene on the other side of the stage, where Valera and his men were formed up in a long single line – their guns pointed at a row of 50 silhouetted bird targets on the beach.
Image: Gaetan Lee
