Secrets of Spain Trilogy

by Caroline Angus Baker

  “We are tiny clog on the wheel of the law,” José corrected him. By now the young whore had stepped out and taken Fermín’s hand.

  “Por favor, come and see if there is something you would like.”

  José stepped inside behind Fermín, who seemed happy to be led by the young prostitute. They walked up a filthy and darkened set of stairs and into a diminutive apartment, dirty, dark and sparse. José wondered why men came to these places to seek satisfaction from a woman. How pathetic were their lives if this was a refuge? He thought of Consuela at home, she and Inés would be asleep in bed, safe, clean and at peace. What if something happened to him and they were forced into this life? Only disaster or misfortune could have forced these women and girls into this scenario.

  “Tell me, officers,” the young girl said. “Tell me what you like.”

  “I have a fetish,” Fermín said as he stood over the nervous girl. “I like a woman who is already polluted with the child of another man.”

  José shuddered; bile rose in his throat.

  “How polluted?” she asked.

  “I want her belly swollen with a child. The bigger, the better,” Fermín said with a grin.

  “I know the right girl for you,” she said. “Wait here.”

  José watched as the girl, dressed in a white dress that seemed like no more than a rag, and with dirty bare feet, left the room. “Fermín, you are one sick animal.”

  “They bring her in here, and we promise to take her from all this and give her a safe place to have her baby. Look at this place; these women aren’t getting care from a doctor or hospital. The poor child will be born in here, or worse, out in the street somewhere. What life is that? We are saving people at this very moment, José.”

  “You sound like you care.”

  “I care about all the pesetas we will get when we sell off the bastard child.”

  The door swung open again and there stood a heavily pregnant girl. José’s heart sank – she couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. His eyes drifted over her dirty clothes and her stomach. This girl had been manipulated into a life she didn’t want and was having a child. His beautiful, virtuous, God-fearing wife couldn’t have another child. This little girl had been given the gift of motherhood, one she no doubt had forced upon her.

  “Will I do, officers?” she asked. Her eyes darted between the two tall men in uniform.

  “Very well,” Fermín said and licked his lips. “Tell us, where are your parents?”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “No, no trouble,” José said and stepped forward. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and he could feel how tense she was. “We want to help you.”

  “Do you have any family?” Fermín asked, and sat down on the only chair in the room. José would rather have stood for the rest of his life, than sit anywhere near the mattress that sat in the corner of the bare room.

  “I have no family,” she replied.

  “You have an owner, or a pimp?” Fermín asked.

  “Mamacíta cares for us. She is very good.”

  José nodded. The woman at the window who had called down to them owned this girl. She wouldn’t mind if they borrowed her and brought her back without the baby. She might be pleased; that way the girl would be back out on the street in no time, and fetch a higher price.

  “When is your baby due?” José asked her. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  The girl shook her head. “Mamacíta says it will be soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “A few weeks. Am I what you want tonight?”

  “Oh yes, I like you,” Fermín said.

  “What do you like? Mamacíta says everything is free. Anything you want.”

  José went to speak, to object. He didn’t want this child thinking that he wanted sex. It seemed so degrading. To her and himself. Before he could speak, Fermín jumped from his seat and interrupted.

  “I want you on your hands and knees,” he said and pointed to the mattress. “You must be naked, and you must not look at me.”

  “Sí, officer,” she muttered and stepped away from José’s gentle hand and in the direction the mattress. He watched in horror as she tossed her threadbare dress to the ground and got her awkward swollen body into position.

  “Fermín, this must stop!” José cried.

  “What? You want to go first?”

  “No. I have never wanted anything less than what is happening right now!”

  “We can hurry this baby along, with a little force against its mother, and we have our first sale all but ready to go.” Fermín rubbed his hands together. “Are you going to stop me, or are you going to watch?”

  Before José could answer, Fermín went over to the naked girl on the mattress. José watched Fermín undo his pants. He couldn’t see the girl’s face, but he could hear her voice – she was praying for her baby.

  “Now, don’t you look at me, you dirty slut,” Fermín said as he got on his knees between her thin legs.

  “No, officer,” her voice squeaked.

  José turned and darted from the room. The moment the door slammed behind him, he heard the girl cry out. The wall between them offered no respite; José heard the screams of the girl mixed with the grunts and groans Fermín made. As expected, the man lasted for about half a minute; he had never seemed the type to be much of a lover. José felt a deep pain in his stomach; he should have stopped his partner from raping that girl, because that was what it was. Rape. He was a coward who ran instead. José wiped the sweat off his top lip, and glanced up to see another door open across the tiny dark hallway. There stood another girl; still young, but at least old enough to be called a woman. She was beautiful. All of these girls seemed so frail and undernourished, but this girl was more like an angel.

  “Buenas noches, officer,” rolled off her sweet tongue. “Can I help you?”

  “No.” José swallowed hard. His throat was dry. He could hear Fermín’s voice, and the girl crying behind the door.

  “Are you waiting for your turn? If you like, you can come into my room instead.” She crossed the hallway to stand in front of him. He flinched when she ran her hand between his legs. “You are a man who is ready and shouldn’t have to wait.”

  José didn’t even realise that he had an erection until that moment. Fuck, this aroused him? Not in the traditional sense. He felt sick at his own behaviour, yet did nothing to stop the situation. He could slap her away, and go and drag Fermín out of the child he was raping. But he didn’t. José loved how everyone seemed so afraid of him and so eager to please. He loved being in charge and that was what he was here – the boss. These girls had been ordered to spread their legs any way he asked, if that was what he wanted. This girl was bewitching; the moment he looked at her, rational thought was lost.

  The girl guided him across the hallway into her bedroom and closed the door. The room seemed like the mirror image to the one Fermín was still inside. “What do you like?” she asked.

  “I… I’m married,” José stuttered. He said it to be a barrier between his erection and beautiful gypsy girl who stroked it. It seemed preposterous; he could do whatever he liked. He had no need to defend himself. It was no more than a half-hearted attempt to stop the foolishness. This woman was beautiful; her skin looked as smooth and perfect as the marble statue he prayed to on Sundays. Her long black hair was so shiny it looked like silk. Her large brown eyes looked right at him as if were the only man on earth.

  “Married? That’s okay. We have games for everyone.” She guided him a few steps back, and he stopped next to a chair. “What’s your name?”

  “José… what’s yours?”

  “What would you like it to be?”

  “Your real name.”

  “Carmelita.”

  José watched the girl undo his trousers, the fabric falling away with the weight of his gun, handcuffs and baton that hung from the leather belt. He let her pull at his clothes until he stood half naked, and she guided him to sit on
the chair. José didn’t flinch until when her full red lips encased him. Her hot breath between his legs felt exquisite, as did the wetness of her tongue on him. His mind couldn’t go anywhere but to the woman who sucked and licked and teased him. José knew he shouldn’t be there, but he didn’t care anymore. She was too good at her work for him to think outside his situation, about his job or his wife at home. Relief came from the sensual onslaught, and José opened his eyes, to see the girl wipe her lips dry. Her cheap lipstick looked wet and smudged by the drops she didn’t swallow.

  The door burst open, and there stood Fermín, his pants still absent. “We have a problem!” he cried. He paused and took in the situation with raised eyebrows. “José,” he said as he looked at the lipstick on his colleague’s wet erection, “I’m so proud of you. You’ve lightened up, and this girl is gorgeous. Can I have her, too?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” José cried as he stumbled to get his pants. He shoved Carmelita out of the way and stood up. “What have you done?”

  “I think it’s pay-day,” he said as José fumbled with his belt. “That baby is coming now, I think.”

  “What happened?” José asked they charged across the hall. They found the girl on the mattress, blood all down her legs and over the mattress. She was weeping, yet eerily silent, as if in shock. José’s eyes went to Fermín’s police baton, all bloodied. “You raped her with the baton, didn’t you? Was your little cock not enough humiliation?”

  “I wanted to see how much she could take.”

  “You are the sickest bastard I have ever known,” he spat at his partner as sank to his knees to assess the girl. “My girl, can you speak?” he asked.

  The girl shook her head, but only a moment later screamed as she held her stomach. “I would say yes, she is in labour,” José said to Fermín as he got dressed. “You’re lucky the two of them aren’t dead already.”

  “I know! You should have seen her skin split open when I jammed the baton inside her.”

  José stumbled to his feet. “We have to get her to the doctor.” There was so much blood. He didn’t dare want to know what was happening between her legs. It could be too late for a doctor, maybe they needed a surgeon.

  “It’s not far to Doctor Lugo’s house,” Fermín said. “We could get him to come here to see her.”

  “Well, we can’t move her.”

  The door burst open again, and there stood the old woman they had first met, the owner of the young girls. “Jesus Christ in heaven,” she muttered. “What is this?”

  “The baby is coming,” José said. “We can fetch a doctor.”

  “No doctor will come here, unless it is to be relieved, as such,” Mamacíta replied.

  “We have a doctor,” José said. “Fermín, go and get the doctor, I will stay here with the girl.”

  “Right.” Fermín paused. “Pay-day,” he muttered. “First baby for the collection.”

  José’s eyes left the stricken naked girl and looked Fermín square in the eye. “One day, you will pay for this. Be absolutely certain of that.”

  “As long as I can tell your wife that you like blowjobs from gypsy girls while on duty, you can’t do anything.”

  Fermín left the room in a hurry, and José glanced at the old madam standing there, looking at her whore. “I have never seen so much blood,” she said as the girl screamed again as another contraction added to her misery.

  “I fear a grave outcome,” José replied. “What is this girl’s name?”

  The women looked surprised. “No one ever asks their names. She is Marta.”

  “Marta,” José said and brushed a few stray strands of brown hair from her sweaty face. “I promise to help you.”

  “You did this!” she cried. “You did this to me! You let him!”

  José leaned away from the girl as she writhed on the bare mattress. She was right; her blood was on his hands.

  15

  Valencia, España ~ Abril de 2010

  Palm Sunday had to be the most awkward day in recent memory for Luna. She and Cayetano hadn’t spoken much after the night that would forever be labelled ‘that wedding meeting fuck-up’. Luna felt glad that when she returned to Valencia on the train with Giacomo and Enzo, she didn’t need to see Cayetano. She needed a bit of space from him. It was the one time that living in different cities had come in handy.

  Semana Santa, the week that led into Easter weekend had its own flair in Valencia. It was the second largest fiesta in the city and hot on the heels of Las Fallas. The city was alive yet again with processions, parades and a vibe of contemplation, unlike other fiestas. Meanwhile, down in the port area, in El Cabanyal and the nearby districts, things always got into full swing. Between the religious floats, the processions made by the various brotherhoods in full dress, and the compulsory re-enactments of Jesus on the cross, there was no mistaking it was Easter in Spain. With the children off school, Luna felt occupied and able to ignore talking to Cayetano as much as possible. Having a disconnect wasn’t good, but seeing the kids eating chocolate eggs, not often done in Spain, but a very New Zealand tradition, made her feel better. Cayetano had his own Easter plans, working at Rebelión until Easter Friday and then time with his family, and Luna refused to join. She didn’t mention to him that Fabrizio’s parents had come to Spain to visit.

  Come Easter Sunday, there was a knock on the door. Luna froze; what if Cayetano had decided to visit when Max and Paulina were in town? As if things weren’t hard enough. All they had spoken of was their son’s good name trashed in the papers all over the world. They were in Valencia to relax with their grandsons, not meet the man their daughter-in-law was about to marry.

  “Only me,” Darren said when Luna opened the door.

  “You should be in France, riding the best one day classic,” Luna muttered.

  “And when I get a flat tyre, my mechanic, who can change a wheel in ten seconds, should be there. It should be your hand I feel on my ass when I get pushed off back into the race, but it’s not.”

  “Suspension sucks – for both of us.”

  “Check it out! It’s April, but I’m already wearing short sleeves.”

  “Wow, breaking Valencian laws of good dress sense right there,” Luna joked.

  “I was coming in here, and a woman stopped me and told me to cover up because it’s freezing. Surely she noticed its 25 degrees today. It’s not winter!”

  “That’s an Australian voice that I hear!” Paulina said in her heavily-accented English as she came down the hallway. “Hello! Welcome, Darren, how are you?”

  “I’m okay, Signora Merlini,” Darren replied as Paulina squeezed him tight. The Merlini family had disliked Darren, as they were doubtful of his intentions when he moved in with Luna after Fabrizio died. But they realised he was no threat, and got welcomed back into the fold again. Darren had been Fabrizio’s best friend for years.

  “Call me Mama,” she corrected him, like she did to Luna. “How are you, really?”

  “From certain quarters of society, there are always rumours of drug use in cycling,” Darren sighed. “If they think they can mention me in the same breath as drugs, they are wrong.”

  “Then why is our Luna fired from her job? She has done nothing wrong, and neither did Fabrizio. No one can prove a thing and yet you are both fired? Under suspicion? For what?”

  “I’m under suspicion because I worked for Fabrizio’s team, and in theory, and I should have known Fabrizio was using drugs. I could have helped him take and hide the drugs. Someone who has done that is not a good employee of a team now,” Luna said.

  “Luna isn’t fired,” Darren said. “I told them to keep her on to prove she is innocent of any knowledge of drugs. I won’t work without Luna. When I stand on the podium in Paris, I want Luna in the front row.”

  “We believe in both of you,” Paulina said. “Italiana non desertiche loro famiglia.”

  “Italians don’t desert their family,” Luna translated for Darren. “And I app
reciate that support.”

  “Darren,” Max said with a surprise as the group wandered into the living room, and Giacomo and Enzo jumped up for a hug from their godfather. “Good to see you.”

  “You too, sir,” Darren said to Fabrizio’s father as they all moved to sit down around the living room together.

  “Please tell me you believe none of this nonsense about our Fabrizio,” Max said. There was no point in small talk.

  Darren paused, and Luna could see him choose his words with care. “If it was not for Fabrizio, I never would have gotten to where I am today. I have tremendous respect for your son. I would never accuse him of anything I didn’t know to be true.”

  “Thank you,” Max said. “The accusations are nasty.”

  “Like that vile Irene woman saying she had an affair with our boy. What trash,” Paulina added.

  “That is a total lie,” Darren said. “That wouldn’t have happened. Irene Lupus is just trying to hurt her husband.”

  “At our expense,” Luna muttered.

  “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”

  “Can we go out?” Giacomo asked from over at the dining table where he and Enzo played.

  “That is why I came over,” Darren said. “Today is Easter, so I thought we could go and eat monas in the park.”

  “What’s that?” Enzo asked.

  “Remember last Easter?” Luna replied. “Mona is an Easter cake.”

  “Will the men in their scary pointy white hats be gone?” Giacomo asked.

  “The Ku Klux Klan hat guys,” Darren muttered. “Yes, they will.”

  “If those crazy racist guys stole the costume of those who wear the white costumes of Spain’s Catholic brotherhood, that’s their problem. Don’t suggest that people here have anything to do with those weirdoes.”

  “I’m not, I’m just saying that I see those hat-mask things, and that’s what I imagine. Awkward but true.”

  “Let’s go and enjoy the Valencian sunshine,” Paulina smiled. “We are all family, us, together.”