‘You could be right. She likes to be seen as radical and controversial.’
‘Well, enough of her. Vamos. Let’s see what’s in these files I borrowed.’
‘There’s a euphemism if ever I heard one,’ Tali said pointedly.
‘They’re not stolen,’ Galindez muttered. ‘It’s just more convenient for us to go through them here. I’ll put them back where I found them in a couple of days and no one will be any the wiser.’
She took the files from the plastic bag. First the old man’s files, roughly tied with string. Below them, the file bearing Guzmán’s name marked Cuartel del Capitán General de Madrid. She opened it, taking out a yellowing letter with the crest of the military governor’s office. This was more like it, back on Guzmán’s trail.
‘Shall I open this one?’ Tali lifted the old man’s file by its string.
‘Go ahead.’
Tali cut the string and opened a folder. She began skimming through the papers. She frowned. ‘Sorry, Ana. These all seem to be from the seventies.’
‘Well, at least there’s a reference to Guzmán in this one. Look.’
Tali pulled her chair closer as Galindez read excerpts from the letter: rank insubordination… discourtesy… conduct not becoming a senior officer…
‘He was a killer,’ Tali said incredulously, ‘and someone’s complaining he’s rude?’
Galindez turned to the next letter. She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Guzmán’s paperwork isn’t up to date and his men appear slovenly.’
‘Who wrote that?’
‘The Military Governor of the Madrid Region, General Antonio Valverde.’
‘Bit of a llorón then, our Antonio?’
‘A complete whinger from the look of it. Guzmán did this, Guzmán did that, failed to acknowledge my authority, made arrests without consultation and so on and so forth. Mierda, Guzmán even had the water pipes repaired without authorisation.’
‘Wait till we catch him,’ Tali smiled, ‘the first charge will be paying unauthorised plumbers’ fees. They’ll extradite him to the Hague for that.’
‘Mierda, Tali. I hoped this would give us more insight into Guzmán and his activities. All it tells us is that he was rude, a bad communicator and couldn’t even enforce a proper dress code among his staff.’
‘Try another,’ Tali suggested.
‘OK, let’s see.’ Galindez began to read the next letter.
‘Ana? What is it?’ Tali asked, noticing the intensity of her expression.
‘General Valverde suspects Guzmán of keeping a record of his activities.’
‘Does it give details?’
‘There’s a fair bit of toadying: “my unpleasant duty to report… reluctantly I have to bring to your Excellency’s attention…” Christ, Valverde was really trying to drop Guzmán in the shit. There’s more. “It is my belief that Comandante Guzmán has been keeping unauthorised records of operations and activities officially designated as secret.”’
Tali peered over her shoulder. ‘What’s that handwritten note in the margin?’
‘Someone called Gutierrez. I don’t know who he was. It says “no further action required”. Interesting. This suggests that Guzmán wasn’t quite the blue-eyed boy in Franco’s set-up. In fact, it looks like Valverde was out to blacken Guzmán’s name.’
‘It seems very petty.’
‘Tell you what,’ Galindez said, warming to her theme, ‘if Valverde did undermine Guzmán’s position with Franco, it might explain why Guzmán disappeared in 1953.’
‘What about these other papers? Want to read them while I put Valverde’s complaints into chronological order?’
‘OK. That sounds like a plan, Señorita Castillo.’
Galindez idly began to skim the papers from the seventies. They weren’t quite as anodyne as she’d thought. Five minutes later, she was avidly reading them. After twenty minutes she looked up. ‘Tali, you need to see these.’
‘Qué pasa?’ Tali asked, surprised by the concern in Galindez’s voice.
‘I think we’re in trouble,’ Galindez said. ‘Big trouble.’
Tali looked over Galindez’s shoulder at the documents on the desk. ‘Is this to do with Guzmán?’
‘No, it’s an invoice for four Ingram M10 machine guns. By a guardia civil special operations unit.’
‘So what, Ana? They’re armed. They bought guns – is that such a big deal?’
‘You’ll see in a minute. Look at this memo, from someone calling himself Xerxes.’
‘And addressed to “those who should know”. That’s a bit mysterious, isn’t it?’
‘Read it, Tali.’
‘“January twenty-fifth,1977: the operation at 77 Calle de Atocha was successful. Tactical Leader reports Tiburón proved himself useful and that the involvement of the guardia was invaluable in attaining our goals. The Reds in the building were engaged, one was killed immediately, the rest were put against a wall and given our response to their demands for democracy.”’
‘You know what he’s talking about, don’t you?’ Galindez said.
‘It’s the Atocha massacre, isn’t it? Fascist terrorists killed someone in an office?’
‘They killed five people,’ Galindez said. ‘Right-wing gunmen went to an advice centre on Calle Atocha and killed four lawyers and a law student. There was a pregnant woman. They shot her as well.’
‘I remember. My dad’s a lawyer, he told me about it after we did it in history class. Didn’t the killers want to derail the transition to democracy?’
‘That’s right,’ Galindez said, ‘they hoped the funerals would spark left-wing riots so the military would step in and take over governing the country again.’
Tali looked at Galindez in alarm. ‘Joder, Ana María, so it wasn’t just terrorists: according to that memo the guardia civil were involved.’
‘Seems so,’ Galindez agreed. ‘That will cause some problems when it hits the fan. Now look at this.’ She slid another memo across the table. It was dated 27 January 1977.
We have now decided the action at Atocha will be blamed on the group known as Alianza Apostólica Anti-Communista. Their political motivation and background make them ideal suspects. Their arrest will generate considerable sympathy and their trial will detract from our involvement. Coming so soon after the other killings, this is bound to incense the Reds and create further opportunities for action against them.
In recognition of their actions, Tactical Leader and Tiburón are promoted with immediate effect. They remain willing to assist in further actions as necessary. The Ingram M10s used in the operation have been destroyed and all documentation pertaining to this operation is being collected by Los Centinelas for disposal.
Viva España! Arriba España! Xerxes.
‘Los Centinelas,’ Galindez muttered. ‘The ones Agustín Benitez told me about at the archive.’
‘And they slipped up, didn’t they?’ Tali said. ‘The memo says they destroyed all the documentation – but they didn’t.’ She paused. ‘Mierda. These might be the only copies in existence.’
‘In which case, they’d want this material very badly if they knew it still existed. Thank God they don’t know we’ve got it. I think we’d better read the rest of these files,’ Galindez said.
Three hours passed. Three hours of reading and note-taking, punctuated by sudden exclamations of surprise. Three hours of Spanish history being unravelled and rewoven by these impersonal, typewritten communications in which the only emotional reference point was the call to arms from the Civil War – Arriba España – at the end of each memo. Three hours of entering names, dates and events into Google – discovering new, subterranean layers of history in the dusty documents. Finding beneath conventional versions of events, other, darker accounts, strewn with violent nuances and complexities. The revelation of previously unknown actors and motives behind apparent accidents and suicides. And other, less subtle operations, the assassinations and attacks, all with full details of the Sentinels’ involvem
ent. Apparently disparate events now remorselessly converged into a deliberate pattern of provocative action aimed at destroying Spain’s emergent and fragile democracy. And disturbingly, the growing realisation of the value of these documents to los Centinelas.
‘They upped their game after the Atocha killings,’ Galindez said, watching Tali labelling various piles of papers. ‘When they failed to provoke public disorder they went for something bigger.’
‘You can’t get much bigger than a military coup,’ Tali agreed. ‘This material relates to Operación Galaxia in 1978.’
‘That didn’t get far.’ Galindez pushed more papers towards her. ‘All three of the main conspirators were arrested while they were planning it.’
‘Assuming they were the main conspirators.’
‘True. There were three people in charge of the operation: a guardia lieutenant colonel, an army commandant and a colonel whose name was never revealed. This memo from December 1978 shows Xerxes didn’t think much of them:’
To all who should know:
Galaxia has been aborted. Those entrusted with its organisation have behaved like clowns, meeting in public places and making arrest ever more likely. In order to avoid being compromised, Tactical Leader gave relevant information to the security services and all were arrested. Tejero and Ynestrillas face court martial in due course. Tactical Leader has naturally been cleared by the security services and will not be named in any proceedings.
‘The one they call Tactical Leader betrayed the other conspirators to keep himself safe,’ Galindez continued, ‘and the two who were arrested never talked. No wonder: blowing the whistle on los Centinelas would be far too dangerous.’
‘And then their final attempt in 1982.’ Tali placed a label on top of the pile: 23F. ‘Twenty-third of February and Lieutenant Colonel Tejero takes over the parliament building and holds the politicians inside hostage. That coup nearly came off.’
‘Nearly,’ Galindez agreed. ‘Until the King stepped in and brought the army back onside. Look at this last memo following the collapse of the 23F coup attempt:’
It has been agreed unanimously that further military action is undesirable. Tejero’s involvement in this ludicrous action – for which we gave no permission – means he is no longer reliable. In due course he will be sentenced in a civil court. He is of little consequence. We also note the unauthorised involvement of Ynestrillas. Los Centinelas previously warned him not to involve himself in any action such as this. He cannot be forgiven. He will be assigned to Tiburón when the time is right.
Politicians of all sides agreed to the so-called Pact of Oblivion: past events which the Reds and their supporters called crimes were to be forgotten in return for our acquiescence to the introduction of democracy. It is important they continue to believe we still adhere to that charade.
For the present we must remain silent, observing and preparing. But we shall not forget and there will be no lasting pact. The betrayal of the Caudillo will be avenged and Spain will rise again, Una, Grande y Libre. The Reds may forget. We will not, and when our vengeance comes, there will be no mercy and no forgiveness.
When further action is appropriate, we will notify you. Until then, all communications must go through Guzmán. We recognise some of you find Guzmán difficult and unreliable but for the moment, there is no alternative.
Arriba España. Xerxes.
‘Guzmán. Joder,’ Galindez said, excited now. ‘So he was still alive and heavily involved in plots to subvert democracy.’ She looked at the memo again. ‘Mierda, perhaps he was a centinela himself.’
‘They also say Guzmán was difficult and unreliable. Do you think that was because he didn’t support the attempted coups?’ Tali asked.
‘No, he must have been heavily involved if they all had to go through him, surely? Let’s check and see if there’s any further mention of him in these papers.’
Tali shuffled through the memos impatiently, skimming the contents, reading out the names of several politicians still in office as well as artists and intellectuals who had pledged support for the coup. Other documents revealed the addresses of safe houses and contact numbers. Most chilling of all was a thick wad of names and addresses of those los Centinelas intended to execute once the coup was under way. But no further mention of Guzmán. And no more plots; 23 February 1982 seemed to signal an end to los Centinelas’ activities.
‘Perhaps they gave up?’ Tali wondered. ‘The Pacto de Oblivio worked as it was intended to: it forced them to accept democracy.’
‘Maybe not.’ Galindez looked again at the last memo. ‘Xerxes ends by suggesting they went along with the pact to take the heat off them after the failed 23F coup. But he clearly didn’t plan to honour the pact – quite the reverse. They thought they’d bide their time before having another go.’
‘But surely they can’t still be waiting thirty-odd years later? Democracy’s well established now.’
‘A lot of people back then were willing to support violence to prevent the introduction of democracy,’ Galindez said. ‘And we’ve got the names here of hundreds of people involved – many of them still in important public positions. This is political dynamite.’
‘It’s dynamite all right,’ Tali frowned, ‘and we’re sitting on it.’
Something was nagging at Galindez’s memory. ‘Tali, that last memo said Ynestrillas was not forgiven – he was assigned to Tiburón. What do you suppose that meant?’
‘I don’t know, but his name rings a bell.’
‘Hostia. Of course it does. He was the guy on the cover of that old newspaper we found in Guzmán’s office.’
‘You’re right. Let’s see exactly what happened.’ Tali went over to Galindez’s laptop and entered the name into Google. ‘It’s the same person all right – Comandante Ynestrillas. Assassinated in Madrid in 1986 by ETA along with two colleagues. Here’s the same photo of their bodies.’
‘And the memo from Xerxes says Ynestrillas was assigned to Tiburón. So maybe it wasn’t a terrorist killing. Perhaps this Tiburón did it? Puta madre, Tali, what if this Tiburón was Guzmán?’
Tali looked hard at Galindez. ‘Hostia, this just gets worse, Ana María. They murdered a senior army officer in broad daylight to keep him quiet. If they could do that, what would they do if they knew we’d got this information?’ She slumped onto the sofa. ‘We’ve got to do something with these papers. They incriminate too many important people. We don’t want to be the only ones who know about this.’
‘I can’t just give them back,’ Galindez said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
‘Why not? Say you picked them up by accident – that’s more or less the truth.’
‘Even if I give them back to the archive how do we know the centinelas won’t find out? They’d guess we’d read them. We’d still be a target. Besides…’
‘What?’
Galindez knew Tali was going to be angry. ‘I can’t give them back. I’ll lose my job. I took restricted papers using a high-level security clearance. It would get Uncle Ramiro into trouble and there’d be an inquiry. I’d be fired. Christ, I might even go to prison.’
‘So you’d rather be hunted and killed by a secret fascist group, Ana?’ Tali’s anger burned in her cheeks. ‘Sorry if I don’t sound all that supportive.’
‘But if I wreck my career…’
‘We’ll still be alive, for fuck’s sake. You’d find another job.’
‘Yes, probably at Superprecios stacking shelves and watching Dora La Exploradora on afternoon TV. There’s got to be a better way.’
Tali sighed. ‘Isn’t there someone who’d know what to do with these papers?’
‘It would have to be someone powerful – someone they couldn’t get at.’
‘Your Uncle Ramiro?’
‘No. He’d arrest me himself. He’s old school.’
‘You think of someone then.’ Tali pushed a pile of newspapers to one side and Galindez sprawled next to her on the sofa. She saw the copy of El Pais
on the top.
Tali noticed the silence. ‘What?’
Galindez pursed her lips. ‘Mira.’ The newspaper’s front page was taken up with a colour photo of a well-dressed man with an immaculate coiffured mass of grey hair. ‘What about him?’ Galindez said, pointing to the headline: Top Judge Tries to Seize Franco’s Assets.
‘Bernadino Delgado? The judge who tried to have Tony Blair arrested for war crimes when he changed planes in Madrid?’
‘That’s him. A massive publicity hound, always picking fights with government and big business and bringing high-profile prosecutions…’
Tali hugged her. ‘And he’s staunchly anti-Franco and antifascist. Hostia. That’s brilliant. The centinelas would have more to worry about than us after that.’
‘Yes, he’d give the names of everyone in those documents to the media in a heartbeat. The centinelas couldn’t keep that quiet.’
‘That’s the plan then?’
‘Definitely. We’ll give the papers to the judge and let him deal with them.’ Galindez reached into the pocket of her jeans for a tissue.
‘Did you cut yourself?’ Tali asked, noticing the crumpled tissue smeared with dark, congealed blood.
14
MADRID 1953, PUERTA DEL SOL
The temperature had fallen again and the cold animated the city. People moved quickly and purposefully, limiting the time they spent in the chill air. Guzmán and Peralta crossed the road, dodging through the traffic, Guzmán returning cat calls from irate drivers as he went. They entered the café.
‘You look like you could do with something to eat,’ Guzmán said.
‘I’m not sure about that, seeing as how you were ready to kill me a little while ago.’
The Sentinel: 1 (Vengeance of Memory) Page 33
