The Labyrinth of the Spirits

by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Alicia looked into his eyes. Fernandito gulped. Peering into those depths always set his pulse racing.

  “Would you really like to work with me?” she asked at last.

  Fernandito’s eyes were popping out of his head. “Nothing in the world would make me happier.”

  “Not even marrying Candelita?”

  “Don’t be mean. Sometimes you’re very mean, Señorita Alicia . . .”

  Alicia nodded, agreeing with the accusation.

  “Look,” he said, “I don’t want you to think I’m getting my hopes up. I know I’ll never love anyone the way I’ve loved you, but that’s my problem. I’ve known for a long time that you’ll never love me.”

  “Fernandito . . .”

  “Let me finish. Now that at last I feel bold enough to speak to you frankly, I wouldn’t like to leave anything unsaid. I don’t think I’ll ever again pluck up enough courage to tell you what I feel.”

  She gave an approving nod.

  “What I’m trying to say, and I know it’s none of my business, and don’t get angry with me if I’m telling you this, is that it’s OK if you don’t love me because I’m a poor idiot, but one day you’ll have to love somebody. Life’s a bitch and too short to live like this . . . alone.”

  Alicia looked down. “We don’t choose who we love, Fernandito. Perhaps it’s just that I don’t know how to love anyone, and I don’t know how to let anyone love me.”

  “I don’t believe that. Is that your boyfriend, that hunk of a policeman who goes around with you?”

  “Vargas? No. He’s just a work colleague. And a good friend, I think.”

  “Maybe I can be too.”

  “A friend, or a work colleague?”

  “Both things. If you’ll let me.”

  For a long time Alicia kept silent. Fernandito waited without saying a word, watching her with religious devotion.

  “What if it was dangerous?” she asked finally.

  “More dangerous than carrying boxes full of bottles up the staircases in this neighborhood?”

  She nodded.

  “From the moment I met you, I knew you were the dangerous sort, Señorita Alicia. I’m only asking you to give me an opportunity. If you see I’m no good, fire me. No questions asked. What do you say?” Fernandito held out his hand.

  Instead of shaking it, Alicia took it and kissed it as if he were a damsel, then placed it against her cheek. The boy went the color of a ripe peach.

  “Fine. A week’s trial. If after a few days you see that this isn’t for you, we terminate the agreement.”

  “Really?”

  Alicia nodded.

  “Thank you so much. I won’t fail you. I swear.”

  “I know, Fernandito. I haven’t the slightest doubt.”

  “Will I need to be armed? I say that because my father still has his militiaman’s rifle—”

  “So long as you’re armed with prudence, that should be enough.”

  “And what does the mission consist of?”

  “In being my eyes.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “What do they pay you per month at the grocer’s?”

  “A pittance.”

  “Multiply that by four, and you’ll get your basic salary per week. Plus incentives and bonuses. And I’ll cover your monthly payments for the Vespa. That’s for starters. Does it seem fair?”

  Fernandito nodded, hypnotized. “You know that for you I would work for nothing. I’d pay, even.”

  Alicia shook her head. “No more doing things for nothing, Fernandito. Welcome to capitalism.”

  “Don’t they say that’s really bad?”

  “Worse. And you’re going to love it.”

  “When do I begin?”

  “Right away.”

  28

  Vargas clutched his stomach as if he’d suddenly developed an ulcer. “You said what to that kid?”

  “His name is Fernandito. And he’s not much of a kid. He’s almost as big as you. And besides, he has a Vespa.”

  “Holy Mother of God. Not happy with complicating my life, now you want to drag innocent souls into your machinations?”

  “That’s what it’s about. What we need in this enterprise is some innocent person.”

  “I thought that idiot Rovira filled that gap. By the way, he’s been following me all morning. Hadn’t they told him to follow you?”

  “Maybe he’s not as stupid as he seems.”

  “And this Fernandito, what is he? A fresh victim for your Countess Báthory bath?”

  “You’re becoming better-read by the day, Vargas. But no. Fernandito is not going to shed a drop of blood. Sweat, if anything.”

  “And tears. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you with those mournful eyes.”

  “When have you seen that?”

  “When you were hypnotizing him down there, in the café. You two looked like a queen cobra and a baby rabbit.”

  “I thought only Rovira was spying on me.”

  “I saw you when I walked by, on my way back from Metrobarna.”

  Alicia muttered something under her breath, as if to play down the matter, while she poured some white wine into one of her fine glasses. She took a first sip and leaned on the table. “Tell me how you got on, and forget about Fernandito for the moment.”

  Vargas huffed and collapsed on the sofa. “Where do I begin?”

  “Try the beginning.”

  Vargas summed up his visit to Metrobarna and his resulting impressions. Alicia listened to him quietly, walking up and down the apartment, wineglass in hand, nodding every now and then.

  When he’d finished, she went over to the window and downed her glass of wine. Then she turned to the policeman with an expression that filled him with anxiety. “I’ve been thinking, Vargas.”

  “God help us.”

  “With all this stuff you’ve discovered today about Señor Sanchís and his profitable marriage connections, his driver, the trail of the Mataix books, Brians and the Semperes—”

  “Don’t forget the invisible man, your ex-colleague Lomana.”

  “I’m not forgetting. The fact is that you and I alone won’t be able to follow up all these leads. And the knot is tightening.”

  “Around our necks?”

  “You know what I mean. All these leads are connected in some way. The more we pull at them, the closer we’ll be to finding the way in.”

  “When you get metaphorical, I’m lost.”

  “We’re waiting for someone to make a false move, that’s all.”

  “Is that how you solve your cases? Through false moves?”

  “It’s more efficient to let others make mistakes than to trust we’ll guess correctly first time around.”

  “What if we’re the ones who make a false move?”

  “If you have a better system, I’m all ears.”

  Vargas raised his hands to signal a truce. “And what about this Fernandito. What’s he going to do?”

  “He’ll be our eyes wherever we can’t be present. Nobody knows who he is, and nobody is expecting him.”

  “You’re turning into Leandro.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say that, Vargas.”

  “Pretend whatever you like. How are you planning to sacrifice the little partridge?”

  “Fernandito will begin by following Sanchís. Division of labor increases productivity.”

  “That smells like a trap. What about me—what do I do?”

  “I’m thinking it through.”

  “What you’re trying to do is get rid of me again.”

  “Don’t be stupid. When have I done anything like that?”

  Vargas groaned. “And while you’re thinking it through, what else are you planning to do?” he asked.

  “Devote time and attention to the Sempere family.”

  At that moment they heard a noise behind the door of the apartment, like the sound of something heavy falling, and a moment later the doorbell rang.

  “
Are you expecting anyone?” asked the policeman.

  “Will you answer the door?”

  Vargas stood up reluctantly and went to the door.

  A flushed Fernandito stood in the doorway, panting. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m bringing Señorita Alicia’s books.” Fernandito held out a conciliatory hand.

  Vargas ignored the gesture. “Alicia, the errand boy is here for you.”

  “Don’t be grumpy. Let him in.” Alicia stood up and walked over to the door. “Come in, Fernandito—pay no attention to him.”

  When he saw her, the boy’s face lit up. He lifted the box with the books and walked into the flat. “May I? Where shall I leave them?”

  “Right here, by the bookshelves.”

  Fernandito did as instructed and took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “You brought them like that, carrying all that weight?”

  The boy shrugged. “Well, on the motorbike. But of course, since the building doesn’t have an elevator . . .”

  “What dedication, Fernandito,” said Vargas. “A shame I don’t happen to have a medal for bravery at hand.”

  Ignoring Vargas’s sarcasm, Fernandito concentrated his attention on Alicia. “It wasn’t that bad, Señorita Alicia. I’m used to delivering groceries.”

  “That’s what’s made you so strong. Go on, Vargas, pay him.”

  “What?”

  “An advance for his services. And give him something extra for gas.”

  “And how am I supposed to pay this?”

  “Out of the expenses account. You’re the treasurer. Don’t make that face.”

  “What face?”

  “As if you had a urinary infection. Go on, pull out your wallet.”

  Fernandito shifted uneasily, seeing Vargas’s ominous look. “Listen, if there’s a problem, I’ll—”

  “There isn’t a problem,” Alicia cut in. “Captain?”

  Vargas grunted and pulled out his wallet. He counted a couple of notes and handed them to Fernandito.

  “More,” whispered Alicia.

  “What?”

  “Give him at least double that amount.”

  Vargas pulled out two more notes. Fernandito, who had probably never seen so much money together in his entire life, accepted it in amazement.

  “Don’t spend it all on candy,” mumbled Vargas.

  “You won’t regret it, Señorita Alicia. Thank you so much.”

  “Hey, kid, I’m the one who’s paying,” said the policeman.

  “Can I ask you a favor, Fernandito?” asked Alicia.

  “Just say the word.”

  “Go down and get me a pack of cigarettes.”

  “American?”

  “You’re a darling.”

  Fernandito ran off down the stairs—skipping, from the sound of it.

  “So much for the altar boy,” Vargas observed.

  “You’re jealous,” said Alicia.

  “Oh, of course.”

  “What’s the picture?” asked Alicia, noticing the canvas Vargas had brought with him.

  “I thought it would look wonderful above your sofa.”

  “Is it by your new friend, Señor Sanchís’s favorite painter?”

  The policeman nodded.

  “Do you think Sanchís is our book collector?”

  Vargas shrugged.

  “And the chauffeur . . . ?”

  “Morgado. I’ve already called headquarters to ask for information on him. I’ll get news tomorrow.”

  “What are you thinking, Vargas?”

  “I’m thinking that perhaps you’re right, whether I like it or not. The knot, or whatever it is, is getting tighter.”

  “You don’t seem altogether convinced.”

  “I’m not. There’s something that doesn’t add up.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll know when I see it. But I get the feeling that we’re looking from the wrong angle. Don’t ask me why. I can feel it in my bones.”

  “I think so too,” Alicia agreed.

  “Are you going to tell Leandro?”

  “I’m going to have to tell him something.”

  “If you’ll allow a suggestion, leave Fernandito out of the newsreel.”

  “I wasn’t planning to include him.”

  A few moments later they heard the boy rushing up the stairs.

  “Go on. Open the door. And be a bit nicer to him. He needs solid male role models if he’s going to be a useful member of society.”

  Vargas shook his head and opened the door. Fernandito stood there anxiously, the pack of cigarettes in his hand.

  “Come in, kid. Cleopatra awaits.”

  Fernandito hurried in with the cigarettes. Alicia opened the packet with a smile and put one in her mouth. The boy quickly pulled out a lighter for her.

  “I didn’t know you’d started smoking, Fernandito.”

  “No, no . . . I just use it as a flashlight. Half the staircases in this neighborhood are pitch-dark.”

  “You see, Vargas? Don’t you think Fernandito has the makings of a detective?”

  “A veritable junior Marlowe.”

  “Pay no attention to him, Fernandito. When they get older, they become embittered. It’s all that quinine in the white hair.”

  “Keratin,” snapped Vargas.

  Alicia waved her hand as if to brush away Vargas’s comment. “May I ask you another favor, Fernandito?”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “This one is trickier. Your first mission.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “You need to go over to Paseo de Gracia, number six.”

  Vargas looked at her, suddenly alarmed. Alicia put a finger to her lips.

  “The offices of a company called Metrobarna are in that building.”

  “I know it.”

  “You do?”

  “They own half the buildings in this area. They buy them, throw out the old people who live there, giving them practically nothing, and sell them again at ten times the price.”

  “Smart, eh? Well, it turns out that the director general is someone called Ignacio Sanchís. I want you to follow him from the moment he leaves his office. Become his shadow—tell me where he goes, what he does, who he talks to . . . everything. Will you manage with the Vespa?”

  “She’s the queen of the road. Even Nuvolari couldn’t escape me when I’m on the Vespa.”

  “This time tomorrow, come here and tell me what you’ve found out. Any questions?”

  Vargas lifted a hand.

  “I’m referring to Fernandito.”

  “Everything is crystal clear, Señorita Alicia.”

  “Off you go, then. And welcome to the world of intrigue.”

  “I won’t fail you. Nor you, Captain.” Fernandito rushed off into a promising career in the world of intrigue and detection.

  Vargas stood openmouthed, staring at Alicia’s catlike eyes as she enjoyed her cigarette.

  “Have you gone mad?”

  She ignored his question, gazing out the window at the blanket of clouds creeping in from the sea. The setting sun had tinted it red, but a web of black ribbons was swirling about, thick and dark. An electric spark pulsated through the clouds, as if a large flare had lit up among them.

  “There’s a storm coming,” Vargas murmured.

  “I’m famished,” declared Alicia, turning around.

  He was astounded.

  “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

  “There’s a first time for everything. Will you buy me dinner?”

  “I don’t know what with. I gave your admirer almost everything I had. Tomorrow I’ll have to go to the bank and withdraw some more money.”

  “Tapas would do.”

  “Tell me where.”

  “Do you know La Barceloneta?”

  “I think I’ve already had more than enough with the normal Barcelona.”

  “Could you go for a good bomb?”

  “Excuse me?”<
br />
  “A spicy one, not one made of gunpowder.”

  “Why am I guessing that this is another of your tricks?”

  29

  Under a lightning-meshed sky, they walked down to the port. A forest of masts fought a wind blowing in from the sea, carrying the scent of electricity.

  “There’s a big one coming,” Vargas announced.

  They skirted the lines of warehouses opposite the docks, large cavernous buildings that looked like grand old markets.

  “My father used to work here, in the sheds,” Alicia said, pointing.

  Vargas kept silent, waiting for her to say more. “I thought you were an orphan,” he said at last.

  “I wasn’t born one.”

  “At what age did you lose them? Your parents.”

  Alicia buttoned up the collar of her coat and quickened her pace. “We’d better hurry or we’ll get wet.”

  When they reached La Barceloneta, the first drops were falling. Thick, isolated drops, like bullets of water that burst on the cobbles and machine-gunned the trams sliding down the avenue along the docks. A jumble of narrow streets stretched out before them, covering a neck of land in a grid that reminded Vargas of a large cemetery. “It looks like an island,” he remarked.

  “You’re not far off. Now it’s the fishermen’s quarter.”

  “And before?”

  “Do you want a history lesson?”

  “As an appetizer for your bombs . . .”

  “Centuries ago, all you could see here was sea,” Alicia explained. “Eventually the beginning of the breakwater was built, and slowly the sediment dragged in by the sea against the dike formed an island.”

  “How do you know all these things?”

  “Because I read. Try it sometime. During the War of Succession, Philip V’s troops demolished a substantial part of the Ribera quarter to build the Ciudadela fortress. After the war, many of the people who had lost their homes moved here.”

  “Is that why you Barcelonians are such monarchists?”

  “For that reason, and just to be contrarian. It improves one’s circulation.”

  The first downpour chased them furiously until they reached an alleyway. Before them rose a facade that at first glance looked like a cross between a portside tavern and a roadside bar. It would not have won any design competition, but the aroma coming from it made Vargas’s stomach rumble. The sign above the door read la bombeta.

  A group of locals who were battling over a card game raised their eyebrows slightly when they saw Vargas and Alicia come in. Vargas realized that they had identified him as a cop the moment he set foot in the place. A rough-mannered waiter glared at them from behind the bar and pointed to a table in a corner, far from the local clientele.