The Shores of Spain

by J. Kathleen Cheney

  Marina peered at her face in the mirror. She did look tired, but she expected that. She’d lost track of the days of the month and was now terribly grateful that Ana had packed her bag with such foresight, including supplies for her monthly. There was even a paper envelope with a dozen aspirin tablets in it. Ana had thought of everything.

  A knock at the bathroom door made her start in surprise. She dabbed some cool water on her face and set the hand towel aside. “Come in.”

  Joaquim smiled at her. “Are you ready to go?”

  Evidently even Alejandro was dressed and presentable before she was. She picked up her hat and followed Joaquim into the sitting room. The boy wore his old trousers—which fit better than the ones Joaquim had purchased—and a clean plaid shirt. He held his new cap in his hands as if he’d been waiting for a while now. He followed dutifully when they headed toward the door.

  Is there anything he does because he wants to? Marina had a sudden urge to take the boy to a shop that sold nothing but toys and make him pick one out. He would probably do so if she ordered him to. She felt a surge of anger against Leandra for letting her son be raised in a place like a prison.

  Joaquim’s hand was raised to turn the door latch when a knock sounded. He gestured for them to step back and cautiously opened it himself. Mr. Pinter stood in the hallway, his hat clutched in his hands.

  “Ah, Inspector Tavares,” he said, “I’m glad I caught you before you left.”

  “Won’t you come in?” Joaquim set his hat back on the table. He opened the door wider to allow Pinter inside and shut the door after him.

  Pinter’s eyes swept the room, taking in the small empty bed in the sitting area for Alejandro and then Alejandro himself. Marina ignored the roiling of her stomach. She was suddenly hungry. “What brings you here, Mr. Pinter?”

  “We’ve lost Mr. Adler,” the young man announced without preamble. “I’m to ask that if you run across Adler in your investigations, you’d please report that information back to us.” He sounded vexed.

  “How exactly did you lose him?” Joaquim asked.

  Pinter ran his fingers through his rumpled hair. “He slipped out of the consulate during the night. We don’t know how he got past the guards.”

  Mr. Adler was beginning to be more interesting by the moment. Clearly he didn’t want to go back to Paris, but fleeing the consulate was an interesting choice. Marina glanced over at Joaquim, who didn’t look at all surprised by this turn of events.

  “Did he bribe one of the guards?” Joaquim asked.

  “They deny it, of course,” Pinter said.

  “Of course.” Joaquim sighed. “We’ll keep an eye out for your missing man.”

  Pinter picked up his hat. “We would appreciate being kept apprised of anything you learn on this case. It appears that Ambassador Norton has more than an academic interest in this, so we’re keen to follow up.”

  Joaquim opened the door for the young man. He would like to understand Madam Norton’s interest in this case himself. “I will keep that in mind.”

  Pinter tipped his hat to her and slipped out the door.

  Marina waited until the sound of the man’s footsteps faded, then glanced at Alejandro before whispering, “Where do you think Adler went?”

  Joaquim laughed shortly. “Didn’t you catch it yesterday?” he whispered in return.

  She shook her head. “Whatever you’re thinking, I missed it.”

  “Adler said that Leandra didn’t tell him anything about the journal.”

  Marina pressed her lips together. “Oh. He never said he didn’t know about it.”

  “He wants to trade the book for Leandra’s safety, and he knows where it is,” Joaquim said with a grin. “In his position for the Paris embassy, he’s a specialist, accustomed to working with Truthsayers. You can lie to a Truthsayer by wording your answers very carefully. The way he answered that question was only a denial of having discussed the book with Leandra. I think she hid it somewhere, and he saw her do so.”

  “So if we find him, we’ll have the journal.”

  Alejandro watched them whispering together, his brow rumpled.

  “I have a pretty good feel for Adler now,” Joaquim said, “and I’m sure I can find him.”

  Marina picked up her hat again and gestured for Alejandro to join them by the door. “Why don’t we get some food? I’m starving and you’ll do better after you have some food in your stomach.”

  Joaquim shook his head. “I should try to find Adler first.”

  Marina pinned her hat on firmly. She wasn’t going to let Joaquim sacrifice his health for this quest, Alejandro needed to eat, and she was truly quite hungry this morning. “No. We eat first. No argument.”

  And to her surprise, he gave in.

  * * *

  Joaquim was glad Marina had bullied him into eating. She clearly wasn’t feeling her best, and in all honesty, he’d forgotten that Alejandro needed to eat as well. He wasn’t accustomed to making his decisions based on having others about him at breakfast time, a meal he often skipped in his hurry to reach the police station. Another habit he would have to amend.

  He managed to be decent company for the meal despite his desire to get about his task. He convinced Alejandro to talk about whether or not he’d had any favorite toys. It turned out that the boy liked football, a game some of the prisoners from Barcelona occasionally played in the prison courtyard. Because his cousin Rafael played the game, Joaquim knew something about it. So he talked about that while the boy consumed a croissant and a roll with cheese. The topic held the boy’s interest, which was a step in the right direction, and Joaquim promised to take him to a game whenever they got back to the Golden City.

  Once they’d finished their coffee, they took their cups back up to the bar and walked out onto the plaza, hunting a spot where he could contemplate Adler’s location. They located a bench in the plaza and he sat while Marina and Alejandro continued to walk about. Pigeons, believing he intended to feed them, gathered about his feet in surprising numbers. Joaquim ignored their squabbling and fluttering and closed his eyes.

  What did he know about Adler? Career diplomat, specializing in special people. Judging by his clothes, from a family with money. Able to speak several languages, willing to lie to preserve his advantage. No, Adler hadn’t lied; he’d omitted the truth. Fell in love at a young age and a decade later pursued the woman to Spain immediately when he learned she still lived. Injured, but pursuing her despite that.

  When Joaquim held his recollections of Adler in his mind, he had a sense that the man was to the north of him, and not too far. He opened his eyes and saw Marina and the boy walking toward him. “I’ve found Adler,” he said, rising and sending the pigeons flapping away.

  Marina waited until the sound of wings died out. “Where?”

  Joaquim offered her his arm. “I don’t think it’s far.”

  He pointed discreetly and they walked along the pathway through the plaza and onto the wide Passeig de Gracia, the avenue crowded with shops and restaurants. People hurried past on either side under the rows of plane trees, heading to work or out on errands. His sense of Adler didn’t waver, though, firmly pulling him along. “I’d bet we’re looking for a bookstore.”

  Marina nearly stopped on the sidewalk. “A bookstore?”

  “Think about it,” he said. “If you want to hide a book somewhere safe but where no one will notice it, why not a bookstore? Or a library would work too, but given the street, I think a store is more likely.”

  Only a couple of minutes later, his supposition was proven correct. His gift led him to a large bookstore set on the corner of two streets, in the ground floor of a new building with balconies above. Tearing her eyes away from the wrought-iron work on the balcony—which seemed to be designed to look like vines—Marina peered through the store’s glass window. “I don’t see Adler.”<
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  “He’s in there,” Joaquim said. “I can feel him.”

  She glanced back at him. “Do we go in?”

  “I think so,” Joaquim said. “We’re not a threat to him.” He held open the door and followed them inside. Books were stacked on tall shelves, both freestanding and set against the walls, making a maze of the store. Alejandro gaped at the shelves of books as if he’d never imagined such a place could exist. He’d probably never seen a bookstore—or a library—before. I should find a book for Marina to read to him while we’re here, a story better suited to a boy’s tastes.

  The store had few customers so early, so Joaquim suspected the proprietor would have an eye on them, particularly as they’d brought a child in with them. Joaquim gestured for Marina to take Alejandro in one direction while he followed his sense of Adler along the far wall. He peered between each row as he went, and finally saw the blond head he was hunting. William Adler was crouched down, fingering his way through the shelves of books there.

  “Have you found it yet?” Joaquim asked quietly.

  Adler jerked and abruptly fell to his rump. Grimacing, he clutched his injured ribs. “What are you doing here, Tavares?”

  “Looking for the journal,” Joaquim said. “Same as you.” He crouched down and peered at the shelf Adler had been perusing. The books on that set of shelves were all old, secondhand. Many of them were worn enough that the lettering on their spines had long since disappeared. Judging by the half dozen books lying on the floor, Adler had been opening each one to check it.

  “How did you find me?” Adler asked.

  Joaquim picked a book off the floor while Adler shifted himself into a more comfortable position. “I’ve never seen the journal either.”

  Marina rounded the nearest shelf. She shot a glance back toward the front of the store and came to where they waited, towing Alejandro with her. “What are we doing?”

  Joaquim held up the book in his hand. “Could you pick out the journal just by looking at it?”

  Marina caught her lower lip between her teeth and shook her head. Oriana had described the journal for them, but there were thousands of books here.

  “Why don’t you keep an eye out for the proprietor, then, and we’ll search through these books?” Joaquim didn’t wait for her to answer, but turned back to Adler. “Was she hiding it here when you decided to talk to her?”

  Adler’s back was pressed against the narrow span of wall between two sets of shelves, his long legs folded up awkwardly in the small space. Against his pale skin, his bruises stood out more lividly now, and his shoulder-length blond hair looked uncombed. He wheezed out, “How did you know?”

  “I’m a police investigator. I’m accustomed to people hiding the truth from me.” Joaquim pulled the first batch of books off the lowest shelf, set them on the floor, and began opening them individually. When he saw that the page was printed rather than handwritten, he set it back on the shelf and picked up the next. “You phrased your answers to my questions very carefully, Mr. Adler. You were trying not to lie, yet you didn’t want to admit you knew something about the book. Can I assume you’re searching for it in order to offer it in exchange it for Leandra’s safety?”

  “Yes,” Adler said after a pause.

  The man wasn’t a very good liar. Joaquim didn’t know what he was lying about now, but that answer had fallen flat. “You understand she’s not trying to secure her own safety, don’t you? Or young Alejandro’s? They were both free a few days ago. If she let them take her, then there’s something else at stake.”

  Adler’s pale eyes met his.

  Joaquim had finally worked through the books from the first shelf and moved up to the second. “So you did figure that out.”

  “She lied to me about it, I think,” Adler said.

  Marina leaned back, glancing toward the front of the store, but then she relaxed again.

  Joaquim looked back at Adler. “What is she fighting for? Why risk herself?”

  Adler’s lips pressed together in a grim line, his eyes dropping to the lowest level of shelves.

  “My book’s right there,” Alejandro said abruptly, pointing toward a shelf two over from where they were looking.

  “Which one?” Marina let him steer her toward the book. She drew it out of the shelves and peered at the cover. The Mines of Solomon, it said in Portuguese. “This is your book?”

  Alejandro nodded. “My mother was reading it to me.”

  Marina gave the book a puzzled glance but handed it down to Joaquim. Then she reached for the book that had been standing next to it, a leather book bound with red thread. She opened the book and glanced down at the open page. Then she stole another peek at the front of the store, quickly opened her large handbag, and stuck the book inside. She directed a guilty glance at Alejandro. “We’re not supposed to steal, but this journal is my mother’s. I’m only taking it back.”

  The look the boy gave her was almost comical. Clearly he recognized that as sophistry.

  Adler’s pale eyes fixed on Marina, angry now. He probably would have risen and snatched the journal from her if not for his cracked ribs. “Your mother’s? Who do you work for?”

  Marina gazed down at him, not intimidated by his expression. “I work at my father’s offices in the Golden City—Monteiro and Company. My mother, however, worked for the ministry on the islands. That journal is the reason she was murdered.”

  Adler started trying to push himself into a standing position. Joaquim took pity on the man and wrapped an arm about his shoulders to help him to his feet. Adler leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “They’re willing to kill to get that back. What the hell is in it?”

  “Details about a conspiracy, we think. It’s encrypted, so we won’t know until it’s deciphered.”

  Adler shook his head, lip curling.

  Marina peered back in the direction of the front door. “The proprietor is coming.”

  Joaquim hefted the book Alejandro had claimed. He nearly laughed when he opened it and saw a bookplate inside from the Ferreira family library back in the Golden City. It was indeed Haggard’s The Mines of Solomon, the very copy he and Duilio had both read when it was first translated into Portuguese more than fifteen years ago. Duilio had mentioned that the thief had taken all the books in his room that night.

  The proprietor, no doubt curious where his clientele had gone, came around the corner and saw all of them there. “May I help you?” he asked in Catalan, his eyes creeping toward Alejandro.

  “I’d like to purchase this book.” Joaquim closed Duilio’s stolen book and handed it over.

  “Most excellent.” The shop owner headed back toward the front of the shop.

  Joaquim followed. As he’d hoped, Marina and Alejandro headed for the door to wait for him outside. Adler followed, although he didn’t look happy about it. A couple of minutes later Joaquim joined them on the sidewalk, his new—or old—acquisition in hand.

  Marina looked vexed, so he wondered what Adler could have said to her. “Why don’t we head back to the hotel? We can sort things out there in private.”

  Fortunately, the hotel wasn’t much farther than the restaurant, so they reached it quickly enough. Once upstairs, Adler vented his frustration. “You can’t just keep the book.”

  “It’s my mother’s journal,” Marina snapped back, “stolen from my sister’s house. Why should you have any right to it at all?”

  “I need it,” Adler said. “She needs it. If you take it back to Portugal with you, she’ll have nothing to negotiate with.”

  “And what is she hoping to get in trade for the journal?” Joaquim asked him again.

  Adler scowled at him. His eyes slid toward Alejandro, resentment there, although Joaquim couldn’t imagine why. Then he realized that Adler saw the boy as another man’s child. Evidently Adler wasn’t as kind a
s the elder Joaquim Tavares had been to Joaquim himself.

  Joaquim tried for a conciliatory tone. “You said you think she lied to you?”

  Adler didn’t look any happier, and jerked his head toward Alejandro. “Not in front of him.”

  Joaquim cast a glance toward Marina, who didn’t look pleased. She held out her hand for Alejandro anyway. She picked up the newly purchased novel, led the boy back to the bedroom, and closed the door.

  Joaquim turned back to Adler. “What do you think she lied about?”

  Adler sat down in one of the leather chairs and stretched his long legs out. He touched his ribs and groaned. “When Leandra was supposedly executed, she was with child. My child.”

  Joaquim was certain Alejandro was not that child. If Leandra had borne Adler’s child, it would have been nine or so by now. Besides, Alejandro’s parentage was all too plain.

  “When my aunt contacted me with questions about Leandra, she mentioned there was a boy with her. My aunt said he was too young and that she was looking into it. She wanted me to wait until she had more answers.”

  And Adler had resented that. “You didn’t do so.”

  “No. I couldn’t, so I came to see for myself. Leandra told me that the boy was some other man’s son, not to worry about him.” He took a deeper breath and then grimaced. “Then she told me she was plucked off that island—the one where they left her to die—by a ship. The sailors beat and raped her into submission. She barely survived.”

  Joaquim felt as if the whole world had shifted, and he was nauseated with the motion. The day before, he hadn’t asked Adler how Leandra had escaped her execution. The news that a ship had taken her from the Ilhas de Morte told Joaquim how she’d gotten to Spain. It could not have been her choice, not given what Adler just said. It sounded more as though she’d been carried into slavery.

  He sank down into a chair across from Adler’s. As a police officer, he’d seen terrible things, heard terrible things, but he’d never gotten to the point where they didn’t bother him, especially when women or children were involved. “She lost the child.”