The Queen of the Northwest

by Javier Montes Gómez

  4—The interview.

  At four-thirty, at the end of the siesta, Sergeant Nicholas waits for her. She glides nervously down the hall’s corridors as through a motorway cut at the edge of the horizon, through an orange landscape in the centre of which the slope of a mountain can be seen.

  She would want to drive through that freeway with no speed limit on her Chrysler, they drove a red convertible with the mane floating in the wind, no hours road of freedom, fleeing from that distressing place where it is not allowed to wear hair too long nor painted nails. Lucia misses feeling like a woman again. She looks straight ahead following the jailer. She wishes she never had to go through that situation of constant panic. She had never felt anything like it before a man's visit, and it was not the sergeant's gallons that frightened her, no less than the presence of the being she had most wanted in the last few months.

  —She's all yours, Sergeant.

  The staff disappeared leaving them alone. Lucia sat trembling, losing herself in the beauty of his masculine eyes.

  —How do you feel? —Asked Nicholas.

  —Not as well as I should. I'd be better off on a cruise but I can’t complain. I have what I deserve.

  —Do not say that!

  —It is true. I have always behaved like a stupid, ignorant and selfish person, I could have faced life differently but ...

  —Come on! —interrupted Nicholas, holding his left hand firmly on the table. You don’t have to give me explanations. Who hasn’t had problems in this life. You are still in time to change and with the fortune that you must have hidden, you can start again. Anywhere you propose.

  —Not without you! —Lucia said as the tears slipped down her face. Nicholás brought a tissue to her so that she could dry her face.

  —You have the most precious face and eyes I've ever seen.

  —Thank you, my love, —she said as she finished wiping her face—. I've been locked up here for weeks thinking that you would never come to see me, imagining you with her at all times, lost in her arms.

  — Come on! —He said, trying to calm her down—. You know very well that it's you I love.

  —I know love. Even so I can’t help jealousy corroding my gut. I want you so much that I would take my life if you asked me to.

  —I would never do it and you know it. Now it is best that we focus on how to get you out of here soon.

  Lucia informed Nicholas of her current situation with regard to the law, he was surprised to see the annulment of the new trial. That disrupted part of his plans. Then he informed her of his conversation with Mr. Green. She confessed to being aware of everything and thanked him for his interest. But now, with the annulment of the new trial, everything had changed, and when Lucia didn’t leave the prison, Nicholas's treatment of Mr. Red was annulled. Mr. Red did not trust a novice sergeant, Lucia knew it. He had talked to an emissary of Mr. Green in the morning, the wolves were nervous about the turn of events.

  —Mr. Green regrets that I can’t go free. But he warns you that if you put Natasha and Milla in jail, the two of us will soon end up serving food to the worms. However if you keep your mouth shut, he will be willing to reward you with some other small favour.

  — Perfect! —Lucia had put it on a tray—, for there is a little favour I am going to ask of you in exchange for my silence.

  —I'm all ears! —Lucia responded with surprise at the procrastination of her reaction.

  —I've been trying to solve the case of Maria Guzman, the girl who was killed almost a year ago in Montederramo. My superiors are trilling. They want results and they want them now! Tell Mr. Green that if he gives me the name of the culprits and the motive of the crime I will be able to silence the mouths of my superiors and I will leave their girls in peace and their Bolshevik asses will feel more secure. Also tell Mr. Green that I am aware that his men are watching us at every moment. If any misfortune or accident happened to me or my partner, I informed him that several trusted people have a copy of the results of DNA tests on hair samples, removed from the crime scene by our experts and reveal Natasha Paskavic and Milla Kurchina as the material authors of the murder of Lorena Vázquez. In addition, these individuals have several copies of this tape in their possession.

  Nicholás gave Lucia a tape. She picked it up and quickly put it in a pocket of her jacket.

  —What is it? —Lucia asked.

  —It's the affidavit of a protected witness who claims to have witnessed how Natasha and Mile murdered Lorena Vazquez.

  —Well, what would happen if Mr. Green accepted the deal? What assurances do you give him that you won’t go against him?

  —If we agree, we'll hide the evidence and the case will be filed forever over time. Guarantees? What guarantees can I give? Perhaps I am going to endanger my life or that of Guillermo and his family by beginning a meaningless pursuit of himself and his men. Perhaps it was not enough with Lorena's death. Don’t overestimate me. I'm just a simple guard who barely makes it to the end of the month. I'm not going to play foolishly by starting a war against the Mafia for a stupid oath of justice and loyalty to the country. Every man has a price. This one is mine.

  —My advice as a friend is the following. As for the case of the dead girl you are moving in a very dangerous terrain. Proclaim to Mr. Green that you have the keys to solve it would be like tying a rope around your neck.

  —Why? —Nicholás asked in surprise.

  —As you will understand, my situation as a collaborator of Mr. Green does not allow me to offer you more information. However for your sake, I will forget to tell you anything about the case, if you appreciate something in life.

  —Thank you very much! We will not push you with that if you don’t think so. The truth is that we have been blindly moving in this case so we thought that Mr. Green would not mind lending a hand.

  —Not when that hand may be stained with blood, —Lucia said wryly.

  —We didn’t know that, like most of Mr. Green.

  —I never thought it would be a good idea to demand from Mr. Red the clarification of Maria's crime, but Guillermo insisted on asking. From what you see we are a disaster as researchers. What do you recommend then?

  —Keep being just as bad. That will keep you alive longer. For my part, I will act as if this conversation had not taken place. I will tell Mr. Green that you continue to swim blindly in a sea of ​​ignorance and the only thing you ask in return for your silence, as well as the concealment of evidence, is for me to be released from any position that has to do with the world of drug trafficking, So that we can get married when we finally get out of jail. He believes that you are totally in love with me and that passion blinds you to the point of forgetting your obligations as a policeman. Why not let him continue to believe it.

  —All right, Lucia. What about the case of Maria Guzman? —Nicholás tried to insist.

  —I can only tell you that Mr. Green is just as involved as in Lorena Vázquez's case so you should walk with lead feet.

  —Who killed her? Do you know that?

  —Of course, I am the Queen for something. However, the same as I've never been a murderer or approved these types of performances, I'm not a teller. But if my life accidentally ran into any kind of danger I wouldn’t hesitate to speak.

  —Why would it be in danger?

  —A girl in love could commit any stupidity and one of them could be to join the enemy.

  —But you're not stupid, and Mr. Green knows that.

  —I hope for my good, —Lucia said.

  Nicholás Gallardo tried to put his ideas in order before continuing to question the prisoner, Lucia was right. In his internal forum Nicholas always knew that the murders of Maria Guzman and Lorena Vázquez were related. Two deaths allegedly related to the world of drugs in such a short space of time in a province as small as Orense, where rarely occurs anything, whose execution in both cases was carried out by a couple of women. Too many chances. But there was something strange about those murders that did not fit.
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  Why had a Russian mafia boss ordered the execution of two crimes that seemed nothing more than settlements, one out of revenge on the murder of Lorena and the other because of a narcotics affair? What did the Russian mafia have to do with it? Why does someone apparently as important as Mr. Green stain his hands with blood on low-level people, risking ending up locked in the shadows for murder? Why not let the Galician mafias clean their own shit? The question to be answered was: What did Mr. Green gain with those crimes? Nicholás noticed that it was at the beginning of a tunnel whose exit could not be guessed nearby. He was aware that he could not put much pressure on Lucia. Her situation was not easy. The girl was playing in two bands. On the one hand he had to remain faithful to justice in order to try to free himself as soon as possible and at the same time try to ensure that his neck was not in danger. But on the other hand he owed a loyal obedience to Mr. Green. To know what kind of negotiations he was bringing with his gang, probably narcotics issues including how he paid extra a couple of homicides. Nicholás refused to believe that Mr. Green had nothing personal against Lorena Vazquez and Maria Guzman, who simply acted as a mercenary, murdering them in exchange for money from the Galician mafias. Before proceeding with the interrogation. Nicholas had brought a couple of coffees. Everything was clearer at times with a good dose of caffeine in the body.

  —What I don’t understand, —Nicolas went on—. What does the Russian Mafia do in this whole shed?

  — The Russians have long tried to open a hole in our market. Although most of their businesses are located in the Costa Brava. The constant tourist demand experienced by the Rías Baixas in recent years has caught their attention.

  True, urban speculation had risen ostensibly throughout the south-west coast of Galicia, especially the area between Bayona and Sanxenxo, where urbanization had proliferated in an uncontrolled way, without any urban planning that was in line with the characteristics of the immaculate scenic beauty of that Atlantic paradise.

  —It is a possible Bolshevik invasion of our lands, —Nicolás said wryly.

  —Didn’t Napoleon's troops do the same thing two centuries ago? —Replied Lucia.

  Nicholas did not answer, it was getting late and he was tired. He took leave of Lucia with a strong handshake, suppressing the urge to hug her and kiss her right there. Lucia wished him luck in the investigation warning him to be careful, his enemies were unscrupulous people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if they felt cornered.

  —You too, my love! —He added.

  When their hands fell apart a desolate and terrible pain took over their souls. But the important thing now was that they were still alive, breathing and they should hold on like this until they could be together again. Before leaving, Nicholas promised to go and look for her as soon as she had her first leave of absence and he would stop sleeping with her friend Mireia.

  5—Old friends.

  Mireia sat for a while watching the eye of the washer spinning on itself. When the ring bell. It was her friend Susana Seoane. She was beautiful, dressed in a dark suit as in her punk times, although the boys now call her Gothic. Fashions always come back. The journalist wore a piercing like a tack stuck to her nose, Mireia was glad to see her after so long without coming to visit. It was customary for Susana to surprise her with a new look. But she did not expect her to back down in that way to retro. The eighties had long been behind, they hugged each other tightly. Mireia took a few beers out of the fridge. As the rain had stopped, they decided to go outside the house to enjoy the fresh air mixed with the scent of livestock that came from the mountains. They sat in front of the wooden log bridge that crossed the Queixa River. While they chatted the sound of her words mixed with the bustle of the waters as they passed the riverbed. Gradually as the alcohol was making its effect the buzz seems to be descending to become a pleasant background noise. They were in late September. The sky was overcast but it wasn’t cold. The temperature remained steady even after six o'clock in the afternoon, the silhouette of a hawk appeared, moving across the screen of the sky, his vision especially caught his attention. The tranquillity of the enclave was suddenly disturbed by the purr of an engine.

  —Have you met anyone? —Susana asked.

  —Yes. A friend who comes to see me from time to time.

  —Isn’t that sergeant, very handsome that you talked to me on the phone about?

  —Yes, the same one who investigates the case of Lucia and with whom you have tried to get an interview several times.

  —I had no idea! —Susana added in surprise.

  Two minutes later Mireia made the corresponding presentations, Nicholás was not too happy to meet the journalist who had revolutionized the media until the new trial of The Queen was wrecked. But he didn’t hold a grudge against her, after all, that was her job. Susana insisted that Nicholas stay with them for dinner. During dinner Nicholas did not stop exchanging glances with that attractive stranger. He liked how her legs were shaped over her black military boots decorated with a pair of gigantic silver buckles, she had beautiful buttocks that disappeared under a black leather miniskirt. He liked her tough-girl look. She was very attractive.

  Mireia threw a log, trying to revive the fire that seemed to dim under the weight of the fireplace, the dinner was slow and ceremonious. All tried to delay as much as possible as if a pact between gentlemen was the time to talk about work. The wind was blowing hard, waving the tops of the trees in their wake. Nicholas thought of the Siberian wolves. They would be outside waiting. It was getting ugly. They were running out of time and did not know anything about the Russians. Who were they? What were they playing at? And the most serious: Why did they allow two hired killers to walk around in jail? The truth was that they didn’t really have enough evidence to stop them. Just a few samples of Natasha's hair that they found on one of the shower trays, not on the body of the victim, as Nicholás had told Mr. Green. Those samples didn’t prove anything. Some wick could have been torn off while showering in the morning, hours before the crime was committed. As for the tape, it was the unprincipled declaration of a Colombian woman, an enemy of the Russians and an intimate friend of the victim who swore she had seen them murder Lorena.

  After the statement of Marina Barros and her interview about the Russians. Nicholás didn’t doubt their guilt. However both the declarations of Marina and the Colombian Patricia Garbajosa wouldn’t be admitted in any court as evidence sufficiently consistent to jail the Russians for the murder of Lorena Vázquez. One could only expect Mr. Green to swallow all the lies with which he had threatened him, to become nervous and to take some false step. Nicholás was aware of his dangerous situation, but whether he liked it or not, it was his job and he should walk with his eyes open. If Mr. Green really had anything to do with the murder of Maria Guzman, the daughter of the hairdresser of Montederramo, he deserved to burn in hell. She was just a child, nothing more. . What harm she could do to the expansionist cravings of the Russians, an innocent child of fourteen. Without enough evidence they couldn’t get an arrest warrant for Natasha and Milla as Guillermo intended, lock them up in a cell of isolation and keep them drugged until they sang. Mr. Green's lawyers would never allow such a thing to happen. He wanted to tell Susana Seoane everything he knew about Mr. Green, but maybe he would go too far. He was not ready to shoot it with the wolves. Not for the moment at least, as long as there was another way to catch them. Maybe he would, but for the moment he could not think of any. After dinner they sat on the sofas in front of the fireplace, Susana was the first to speak to Nicholas.

  —Could you tell me something, however irrelevant, about the ongoing investigation into the murder of Lorena Vazquez?

  —Unfortunately, our investigation demands a total eclipse of information towards the media, but as soon as we obtain results, I won’t hesitate to grant you an exclusive interview.

  —You're very kind. Do you know what kind of relationship Lucia had with the victim? Is it true what they say, that they were lovers?

&n
bsp; —That should only be sensational gossip, to satisfy the addicts to the pink press and lovers of trash media.

  —In that I agree with you. Lucia was not a lesbian, at least when I met her, nor did I think she was a murderer. Although she may have changed all this time, next to all those gangsters with whom she worked for so many years.

  —You mean Diego Suances, Don Silvio, Softie and the rest of the band. The truth is that I ignore almost everything about them.

  —Just like everyone else, —Mireia said—. Susana is jealous because they never let her take part in any of their raids.

  Susana stirred uneasily on the sofa.

  —I should watch them, sergeant. These people are the most dangerous.

  —How can I do it if I've never seen them?

  Then Mireia remembered the photos she had collected from her parents' room last night in the city to show them to Nicholas.

  —That is easy to arrange, I have pictures of them with Lucia when I was fourteen. The photos were taken about ten years ago. I don’t think they have changed much since then. I only have four, —said Mireia, showing them to Nicholas. Diego Suances and Softie embrace Mireia in the first of the photographs.

  —Two tough, attractive guys. They look like actors, —Nicolás says.

  —They'd get booked in Hollywood no doubt if they were not gangsters, —Susana said.

  —In this are Lucia, Don Silvio, Diego Suances and Ramón González, —Mireia said, showing another of the photos to Nicolás.

  The faces of those men suddenly became terribly familiar. He recognized them at once. Despite the photo, it had been taken ten years ago. No doubt it was the Mr Red and Blue lords.