A Body in Barcelona: Max Cámara 5

by Jason Webster

  Cámara clocked them as he walked past: they were simple patrolmen, ordinary police. The more specialised units would also be there, but less visible at ground level.

  He turned the corner at the bottom of the street and Gaudí’s basilica appeared suddenly before him, a perpendicular mass, like stalagmites slowly erupting towards the heavens. It was impressive, although he could not say whether he liked it. Architecture either moved him or not, acting on a purely emotional level: how it might achieve the effects that it did was largely beyond him. But the sheer size and strangeness of the place could not fail to have an impact. Barcelona, unlike Madrid, had a truly iconic building recognisable throughout the world. Where else could a declaration of independence take place?

  As soon as he looked up, he began to see them – small dark dots placed on nearby rooftops. A group of four of them caught his eye, one pair clearly talking the other through: the unmistakable sight of a night detail being relieved by the morning shift. The Mossos special operations squad – the Grup Especial d’Intervenció – had been there for hours already, clearly distinguished from the ordinary officers by their black, military-style uniforms, the letters GEI in white printed on the backs of their bulletproof vests.

  Cámara walked around to the rear of the Sagrada Familia, along the Carrer de Provença and down the Carrer de Sardenya to the west entrance – the Door of the Passion. The normal barriers used to herd the tourists along in a queue had been removed and a line of police stood in their way. Already, on the other side of the road in the park area, a crowd was beginning to grow: families, many of them with young children, waving the Catalan flag with its red-and-yellow stripes. Cámara estimated that at least a couple of thousand had already shown up, but more – many more – were starting to join them from the nearby streets. A line of barriers had been placed to hold them back from the traffic still flowing past. He heard singing and laughter: it felt like a festival. Was this their day, the one they had been waiting for for so long?

  He heard a chopping sound overhead and glanced up to see a police helicopter hovering above the clustering towers of the basilica. The men at the bar had been right: the police presence for the event was considerable, and so far he had been unable to spot any weakness or hole in their preparations.

  Holding out his ID card, he got past the men at the entrance, skipped up the steps and went inside. Coloured light cascaded from stained-glass windows that seemed to grow up the walls like a kind of psychedelic plant life. People were hurrying around in all directions performing last-minute adjustments: a small army of priests – many dressed in black like the gun-toting marksmen outside – making sure that everything was perfect for the big event.

  As one rushed past, Cámara stuck out an arm and grabbed him by the elbow, identifying himself as he did so. Father Josep, a thin, wiry man in his fifties with round glasses, was clearly in a rush, but happy to answer the chief inspector’s questions.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Cámara, ‘what’s the run of things today?’

  ‘Mass will begin at ten,’ said Father Josep, skipping from foot to foot.

  ‘And will go on for …?’

  The father shrugged. ‘An hour and a half at least. Almost certainly longer. It’s a special mass for a special occasion, as you know.’

  Cámara smiled. It seemed that everything that day had the word ‘special’ tagged to it.

  ‘And the mass will be led by Cardinal Forner?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s right.’ Father Josep pointed behind him, towards the entrance on the east side of the building. ‘He’ll arrive through there, that’s the Door of the Nativity. And then when everything’s finished he and everyone else will exit through the Door of the Passion, just behind you.’

  ‘Will any of the other doors be open?’ asked Cámara.

  ‘No, just those two. The Door of the Glory on the south side will only be opened on the day the basilica will be finished, which won’t be for another ten or fifteen years at least.’

  Cámara looked behind him and then across at the Door of the Nativity.

  ‘They’re glass,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, but they’ll both be open throughout the ceremony. The cardinal always insists that he doesn’t want the crowds outside to feel they’re shut out. Besides, this is a joyous day for everyone and he wants to share that with the people of the city. And the roads will be closed for the duration, so we shan’t be disturbed by the noise of traffic.’

  ‘Except the chopper overhead,’ said Cámara, but Father Josep looked at him quizzically, not understanding.

  ‘One more thing before you go,’ said Cámara. ‘I’m assuming the cardinal will be making a speech of some kind during the ceremony?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Father Josep.

  ‘But it’s not just Church people here. I mean, we’re expecting other kinds of dignitaries as well.’

  ‘The entire government will be here,’ said the father.

  ‘The Catalan …’

  ‘The Govern. The entire Govern,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Right,’ said Cámara. ‘And will any of them be speaking as well? Are we expecting anyone apart from the cardinal to talk at all?’

  Father Josep gave him a blank stare.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said.

  He took a step back.

  ‘Now I have to go.’

  And he dashed off.

  Cámara stood motionless for a moment, watching him scuttle away. But he did not have long to wonder about his reticence; seconds later a powerful hand grabbed him by the upper arm.

  ‘Who are you?’

  He was forcibly whisked around and came face to face with a man in black uniform, a beret placed at an angle on his freshly clipped scalp.

  Cámara whipped out his ID card.

  ‘Come with me,’ said the GEI man. ‘The jefe de operaciones wants a word.’

  Cámara was led to a side chapel where a group of three men were standing over a table littered with laptops and pieces of paper.

  When they saw Cámara, two of them took a step away, leaving only one, who stared at him with open hostility.

  ‘What the fuck is a Policía Nacional chief inspector from Valencia doing in my basilica?’ barked the man. ‘I’ve got enough to worry about already without crap like this.’

  Cámara steeled himself: back at the Mossos station, Sotsinspector Ripoll, his liaison officer, was supposed to have got the necessary clearance for him to be there. But clearly he had forgotten – or not bothered – to do so. Cámara could either go into long explanations about his case, blaming this on a clear breakdown in protocol procedures, or he could appeal to the man’s sense of action, of danger.

  ‘I believe there’s going to be an attack of some sort here during the ceremony,’ he said as calmly and clearly as he could.

  He could see the blood pressure rising in the jefe de operaciones’s eyes, his nostrils beginning to flare.

  ‘Do you have clear intelligence on this?’ he said. ‘What exactly are you talking about?’

  Cámara hesitated.

  ‘I’ve got the entire Catalan government and Church hierarchy coming through that door any minute,’ said the GEI chief. ‘You’d better start giving me some details right now, or I’ll throw you out of here on your fucking arse. You got that? Details. Now.’

  And he banged his fist hard on the table, the laptops jumping in unison with the impact.

  ‘It’s all right, Sotsinspector,’ said a voice behind Cámara. ‘He’s with me. I’ll vouch for him.’

  Cámara turned and saw Carlos stepping into the chapel, a straw hat clutched in his hand. He did not look pleased to see him.

  ‘Cámara is one of mine,’ Carlos continued. ‘I’ll take care of him, and get back to you if there’s anything to report.’

  The GEI man ground his teeth.

  ‘If he’s yours, get him out of this operations room. And I don’t want to see him again. It’s on you, Carlos.’

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nbsp; Carlos smiled at him indulgently, put an arm around Cámara’s shoulders, and led him away.

  ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘We need to find somewhere we can talk.’

  FORTY-SEVEN

  ‘SMOOTHLY DONE,’ CÁMARA said as Carlos led him away.

  ‘They know who I work for,’ said Carlos. ‘That’s enough.’

  They stepped away from the chapel and into the main body of the basilica.

  ‘There’s a confessional over there,’ said Cámara. ‘Might be a quiet place.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ Carlos pulled him in the other direction. ‘They’re all bugged.’

  In a corner near the Door of the Nativity, they huddled by the wall, away from the hubbub of policemen and priests.

  ‘This will have to do,’ said Carlos. ‘First things first – Terreros. What have you got?’

  Cámara kept his back to the wall and his eyes focused on the scene in front of him. The bustling intensified suddenly as it appeared that the first dignitaries were soon to arrive.

  ‘We’re going to have to move,’ said Carlos.

  ‘They’re coming in through this door,’ said Cámara. ‘Let’s go across to the other side and find somewhere there.’

  The two men hurried across the nave towards the Door of the Passion. There, just before the glass doors, was an anteroom.

  ‘In here,’ Cámara said.

  Behind them, the guests began to flood in, chatting and taking their seats while an organ played. One of them, a man in a grey suit with closely cropped white hair, caught his attention.

  ‘Alfonso Segarra’s here,’ he said, throwing Carlos a look.

  ‘He’s a very religious man,’ said Carlos.

  ‘Did you bring him?’

  ‘I don’t have to. Someone like Segarra can go where he pleases.’

  ‘Don’t mess me around. It can’t be coincidence.’

  Carlos lowered his eyelids and frowned.

  ‘I don’t believe in coincidences.’

  ‘So why is he here?’ said Cámara.

  ‘Señor Segarra gave a speech last night to local businessmen,’ said Carlos, ‘warning that he would pull out all his operations from Catalonia if it became independent. Went down well with some. Less well with others. We … he thought it would be useful to appear here today as well.’

  As he spoke, a couple of press photographers took snaps of the supermarket mogul. He looked calm, but tired. As he stepped through the crowds, shaking hands and moving unsmilingly towards the front to take his seat, he seemed to notice that he was being observed, turning his head and catching Cámara’s eye. He gave a brief nod, then saw that Cámara was standing next to Carlos and averted his gaze quickly, disguising his discomfort with a smile and focusing his attention on the cross above the altar.

  Cámara understood.

  ‘He’s working for you.’

  Carlos nodded.

  ‘Very good, Cámara,’ he said. ‘Yes, Segarra is with us now. Terreros was responsible for the death of his kid. That runs deep. Hate, in my experience, is the most powerful reason for someone joining us. Not money or excitement, but wanting to get back at someone you really despise or fear. And we can protect him as well.’

  Cámara threw him a look.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Look, what’s going on?’ said Carlos. ‘What were you doing scaring the GEI with talk about an attack?’

  ‘What’s the real situation here?’ said Cámara.

  Carlos glared at him, his grip tightening around his hat.

  ‘It’s much more complicated than you could know,’ he said. ‘Or I can explain.’

  ‘The declaration,’ said Cámara. ‘Independence. You think it’s going to happen here, in a few minutes, right? That’s why you brought Segarra – trying to scare them.’

  Carlos shook his head.

  ‘We don’t know. No one knows except the Catalan president, and he’s not giving anything away. Believe me, we’re trying everything we can to get that information. It might be today, tomorrow, who knows?’

  ‘But that’s why you’re here. You wouldn’t be bothering to turn up for some religious ceremony otherwise.’

  Carlos shrugged.

  ‘As I say, it’s a faint possibility. But you’re going to tell me what you’re doing here. Or I’ll make sure the GEI throw you out. And they won’t be nice about it.’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ said Cámara.

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  ‘If Terreros is going to make a move it’ll be here. Now.’

  Carlos sneered.

  ‘Here?’

  Cámara nodded.

  ‘He wants to act before it’s too late,’ he said. ‘Before the declaration is made.’

  Carlos looked at him as though he were mad.

  ‘You haven’t grasped how religious Terreros is,’ he said. ‘He’s not going to attack a sacred place like this.’

  ‘But the point about Terreros,’ Cámara said, ‘is that nothing about his world is as it appears.’

  He leaned in towards Carlos.

  ‘And you are a part of that world.’

  He realised that he was prodding Carlos in the chest. Reluctantly, he took a step backwards.

  ‘Steady yourself, Chief Inspector.’

  From inside the main body of the basilica they could hear the music change and a silence begin to fall on the congregation: Cardinal Forner himself must have arrived, which meant that everyone was now in place and the mass would soon begin.

  ‘Nothing is straight about this,’ said Cámara in a lower voice. ‘Not you, not Terreros, not anyone.’

  ‘Spare me the sermon,’ said Carlos. ‘Look, if you’re going to ask if I’ve been using you, the answer is, yes, absolutely. Terreros is a rogue element, one we’ve only just managed to contain. He’s got powerful friends, which means we can’t shut him down, so we let him play his little games down in Ceuta, with his dreams of the old days and the old order. He’s a dangerous, crippled maniac, wedded to the Legión, who’s still blaming Franco for not ensuring the dictatorship continued after his death.’

  Carlos paused for breath, the last words shot from his mouth like bullets from a machine gun.

  ‘Now while he was simply collecting money and sitting in his little office,’ he continued, ‘everything was fine, we had him contained. But then Segarra’s kid, Fermín, got killed and the alarm bells went off. It was obvious that Terreros was behind it – Segarra had turned off the taps after the Hacienda investigation. He got scared. But the boy’s murder was a sign that Terreros was upping the ante, preparing for bigger stuff.’

  ‘So that’s why you got me involved,’ said Cámara.

  ‘Of course that was why we got you involved,’ replied Carlos. ‘It was a simple police matter. The investigation was going nowhere, so we gave you a little helping hand, that’s all. Then you could do what we couldn’t – pick Terreros up and lock him away, neutralise him.’

  He gave Cámara a scornful look.

  ‘Or at least that was what was supposed to happen.’

  The cardinal’s sharp, clear voice started to echo throughout the building from loudspeakers as he began the ceremony.

  In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti …

  Overhead, punctuating his words, came the chopping of the helicopter blades in the sky.

  ‘The problem with that,’ said Cámara, ‘is that it doesn’t tell me anything I don’t already know. And it’s not the whole story.’

  Carlos did not move.

  ‘Terreros is one of your informants,’ said Cámara. ‘Why would you tolerate him in the first place? There are ways you could shut him down if you really wanted to. But he was useful.’

  Carlos held out his hands.

  ‘OK, you’re right,’ he said. ‘I admit it. You’re a clever guy, Cámara.’

  ‘Shut up.’ Cámara spat the words out. ‘I haven’t finished. Because like Segarra, Terreros is not just an informant, he’s one of your agents.’

/>   Carlos laughed.

  ‘This is silly,’ he said. ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself.’

  ‘Who writes a threatening note by hand?’ said Cámara. ‘Terreros wanted to be caught, it’s obvious. Trying to flee over the border was just part of the pretence. The thing was set up. He knew I was coming. And the only person who could have told him is you.’

  He had stepped closer to Carlos again, their faces almost touching. Carlos stared him in the eye, almost challenging him to lash out.

  ‘You wanted him out of Ceuta,’ said Cámara. ‘You wanted him on the mainland. And you used me to get him here under false pretences.’

  Carlos slowly lifted his hands, placed them on Cámara’s shoulders and tried to push him away. But Cámara’s body did not move.

  ‘We use what we’ve got,’ Carlos said. ‘Opportunities come our way, and we take them. Just like in police work. Nothing is as neat as it looks from the outside. Ever. But let me give you some advice. Stick to policing – you’re out of your depth.’

  ‘The problem is,’ said Cámara, ‘you’re not bothered that Terreros is on the run. In fact, you were excited the morning you called me about the break-out, not really worried, as you pretended to be. You think he can still be useful for you. Why were you the first person to call me about him escaping? You slipped up, Carlos. That call should have come from one of my own. But how did you know? Because Terreros himself told you. A phone call or a message was got to you somehow. Which was when you called me.’

  ‘Why would I send you up here to catch him if I was happy for him to be loose?’ said Carlos. ‘There’s a bit of a hole in this fantasy of yours.’

  ‘You’re keeping up appearances. It’s the only thing you’ve been doing from the start.’

  Carlos rolled his eyes.

  ‘Terreros called me a Red,’ said Cámara. ‘Where did he get that from?’

  ‘Get this straight,’ Carlos said. ‘We did not pass on any information about you to Terreros. Not. One. Word.’

  Cámara stared into his eyes: for the first time he saw conviction there, a straight, unflinching certainty. It was the final confirmation.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I believe you. It was the other way around, wasn’t it?’