Lisbon serves as a threshold in Manuel Arroyo Benítez’s covert passage from Spain to Argentina. There, the man traveling as Adrián Gallardo Ortega is given a carefully staged interval of rest and distraction before boarding the flight that will take him across the Atlantic; the city’s brief respite makes the strain of his assumed identity visible rather than removing it.

A route chosen by necessity

The route through Lisbon was shaped by circumstance. When Clara Stauffer arranged their journey, flights leaving Madrid were full, especially with Christmas approaching and many Spaniards living in Argentina. The available passage required them to fly from Lisbon, with a transfer in New York. At the mention of New York, Manuel reacted with such alarm that he answered as if he were truly Adrián, insisting that he could not go there. Lisbon therefore marks not simply a convenient stop but a point in a journey whose itinerary threatens to expose the man behind the borrowed name.

A staged pause before departure

They landed in Lisbon close to midnight and went straight to a hotel. Clara withdrew to her room, saying she was too tired even for a drink. The next morning, however, the false Adrián found her at breakfast in a markedly brighter, more talkative mood, promising him a pleasant day. Her change in manner shaped the hours before their flight: she took him around the city for a long walk, with its hills and a meal with wine, arranging the outing so that they would reach the plane thoroughly tired.

For Manuel, who knew Lisbon already, the city was familiar; for the identity he inhabited, it appeared new. He looked open-mouthed at its beauties and celebrated the food, wine, and walk. That contrast gives the stop its particular tension: Manuel carries knowledge the supposed Adrián cannot claim, yet must experience the place as his companion’s traveling partner. Clara’s excursion also functions as practical care, occupying him and exhausting him ahead of an overnight flight rather than allowing the trip to become another anxious stretch of waiting.

The flight and the borrowed identity

Clara had admitted before boarding that she was afraid of flying, but once aboard she talked continuously, as if her conversation could keep the aircraft steady. Manuel expected to collapse as soon as he could rest his head, yet the nerves of takeoff kept him awake despite his exhaustion. Eventually he fell asleep. When he opened his eyes, the cabin was dark, and a flight attendant speaking Spanish with a strong North American accent asked whether Mrs. Gallardo wanted breakfast. The address confirmed that the assumed identity had accompanied him beyond Lisbon and into the next stage of the journey.

Lisbon’s narrative significance lies in this compact passage from alarm to temporary ease and onward concealment. Its hills, hotel breakfast, and overnight flight are concrete details in a larger sequence of exile and clandestine movement: the city affords Manuel a pause, but not a return to his own name or a resolution of the dangers attached to it.