“What do you mean?”
“Are you just going to sit there and do nothing, after hearing all this?”
“My hands are as tied as those of Brians. Or perhaps even more.”
“How convenient.”
“With all due respect, you don’t know anything about me.”
“Then tell me. Help me complete the story. Tell me what I can do.”
“Do you have a family, Vilajuana?”
“A wife and four children.”
“And you love them?”
“More than anything in the world. Why are you asking me?”
“Do you want me to tell you what you must do? Really?”
Vilajuana nodded.
“Finish writing your speech. Forget about Mataix. About Martín. About Valls and everything you’ve told me. And forget about me. I was never here.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” Vilajuana protested. “You’ve tricked me.”
“Welcome to the club,” said Alicia, walking out.
2
Not long after leaving the Real Academia and stepping out of Palacio Recasens, Alicia was turning the corner into a narrow street when she had to stop to throw up. She held on to the cold stone wall and closed her eyes, tasting the bile on her lips. She tried to take a deep breath and restrain herself, but nausea hit again and she almost fell to her knees.
If she didn’t fall, it was because someone held her up. When she turned around, she was confronted with the obliging face of Rovira, the apprentice spy, who looked at her with deep concern.
“Are you all right, Señorita Gris?”
She tried to recover her breath. “What on earth are you doing here, Rovira?”
“Well . . . I saw you wobbling from afar and . . . I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine. Go away.”
“You’re crying, miss.”
“Clear off, you idiot,” she lashed out, raising her voice and pushing him away with both hands.
Rovira shrugged and hurried off, looking wounded. Alicia leaned against the wall. She dried her tears with her hands and, pressing her lips together angrily, set off again.
On her way home she found a street vendor and bought some eucalyptus sweets from him to drive the acid taste from her mouth. Then she started slowly up the stairs. When she reached the door to her apartment, she heard voices inside. Perhaps Fernandito had come by for new instructions, she thought, or to report on his mission. Perhaps he’d patched things up with Vargas.
She opened the door and saw Vargas standing by the window. Sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in his hand, smiling calmly, was Leandro Montalvo. In the doorway, Alicia felt her cheeks paling.
Leandro stood up. “And there was I, thinking you’d be glad to see me, Alicia.”
Alicia took a few steps forward, removing her coat as she glanced at Vargas. “I . . . I didn’t know you were coming. If I’d known . . .”
“It’s been a bit of a last-minute thing. I arrived last night, but in fact I couldn’t have chosen a better moment.”
“May I offer you anything?” Alicia improvised.
Leandro held out his cup. “Captain Vargas here has been very kind and made me a splendid cup of tea.”
“Señor Montalvo and I have been discussing the details of the case,” said Vargas.
“Oh, good . . .”
“Come on, give me a kiss, Alicia, I haven’t seen you for days.”
She went up to Leandro and brushed his cheek with her lips.
A glint in his eyes informed her that he’d noticed the bile on her breath. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. A bit of an upset stomach. It’s nothing.”
“You must take better care of yourself. If I’m not around to keep an eye on you, you don’t bother.”
Alicia nodded and smiled meekly.
“Go on, sit down. Tell me. The captain says you’ve had a busy morning. You went to see a journalist, I believe.”
“In the end he stood me up. He probably didn’t have anything to tell me.”
“You can’t rely on anyone in this country.”
“That’s what Vargas says.”
“Luckily there are still some people who work, and who work well. Like you two, who’ve practically resolved the case.”
“Have we?” Alicia glanced at Vargas, who lowered his eyes.
“Well, all this stuff about Metrobarna, the chauffeur, and that Sanchís guy . . . I’d say we’ve almost got this in the bag, as they say. The trail is very solid.”
“It’s only circumstantial. Nothing more.”
Leandro laughed politely. “See what I was saying, Vargas? Alicia is never satisfied with herself. She’s a perfectionist.”
“I wonder where she gets it from,” Vargas said drily.
Alicia was about to ask him what he was doing in Barcelona when the door of the apartment suddenly opened and Fernandito walked into the sitting room, panting after his race up the stairs.
“Fresh news, Señorita Alicia! You’ll never guess what I discovered!”
“I hope you’re going to tell me that you’ve found my order at last,” she snapped, her eyes fixed on his. “I suppose you left it in the building across the street by mistake.”
“Goodness,” said Leandro. “Who is this obliging young man? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“It’s Fernandito. The boy from the grocery.”
Fernandito gulped and nodded.
“So? You haven’t brought it?” Alicia asked, scowling.
Fernandito stared at her mutely.
“I said eggs, milk, bread, and two bottles of white Perelada. And also olive oil. Which is the bit you haven’t understood, you simpleton?”
Fernandito read the urgency in Alicia’s eyes and nodded again, looking contrite. “I’m sorry, Señorita Alicia. It’s all been a mistake. Manolo says it’s ready now, and please to forgive him. It won’t happen again.”
Alicia snapped her fingers a few times. “Go on, then. What are you waiting for?”
Fernandito nodded once again and made himself scarce.
“They can’t get anything right,” Alicia spat.
“That’s why I live in a luxury hotel,” said Leandro. “Everything is resolved with a simple phone call.”
Alicia assumed a calm smile and went back to Leandro’s side. “And to what do we owe the honor of your having left the comfort of the Palace for my humble abode?”
“I’d like to say that I missed your sarcasm, but the truth is that I bring good and bad news.”
Alicia shot a quick glance at Vargas, who simply nodded.
“Sit down, please. You’re not going to like this, Alicia, but I want you to know it wasn’t my idea, and I haven’t been able to do anything to avoid it.”
She noticed Vargas withdrawing into himself.
“Avoid what?” she asked.
Leandro left the cup on the table and paused, as if he were gathering courage to give her the news. “Three days ago the police investigation revealed that last month Don Mauricio Valls had been in touch by phone on three different occasions with Señor Ignacio Sanchís, director general of Metrobarna. That same morning, in the early hours, during a search of the company’s Madrid offices, the police found documents showing that a number of share purchase operations of the Banco Hipotecario, Metrobarna’s parent company, had taken place between its manager, Don Ignacio Sanchís, and Don Mauricio Valls. According to the police technical division, these operations were the subject of important procedural irregularities, and there was no record of the transactions having been duly reported to the Banco de España. When one of the clerks of the head office was questioned, he denied having any knowledge or record of such operations.”
“Why were we not kept informed?” asked Alicia. “I thought we were part of the investigation.”
“Don’t blame Gil de Partera, or the police. It was my decision. At the time I didn’t know that your investigation was going to lead you to Sanchís by another route. Don
’t look at me like that. When Gil de Partera told me about this business, I thought it best to wait for the police to confirm whether we were facing something relevant to the case or just a simple trading irregularity that would have been beyond the scope of our investigation. If at any given moment the lines had crossed over, of course I would have told you. But you two got ahead of me.”
“I can’t quite get to the bottom of this matter,” said Alicia. “Shares?”
Leandro gestured for her to be patient. “The police continued investigating and found more signs of questionable transactions between Sanchís and Mauricio Valls. Most of them included the purchase of shares and promissory notes from the Banco Hipotecario, purchases that had taken place for almost fifteen years behind the back of the company’s board and management. We’re talking about significant amounts. Millions. At Gil de Partera’s request, or rather, following his orders, I set off for Barcelona last night, where the police were ready to arrest and interrogate Sanchís sometime today or tomorrow, as soon as they had confirmation that Valls had used funds obtained through the fraudulent sale of Banco Hipotecario debt securities to pay off a mortgage he’d taken out against the lands and building works of Villa Mercedes, his private residence in Somosaguas. The technical report from the police suggests that Valls had been blackmailing Sanchís for years to obtain illicit funds stolen from the balance sheet of the bank and its companies—funds that Sanchís had disguised with fictitious transactions between shell companies to hide the identities of the real receivers.”
“You’re saying that Valls must have blackmailed Sanchís. What with?”
“That’s what we’re trying to establish right now.”
“Are you telling me that all of this is about money?”
“Isn’t it almost always?” replied Leandro. “Of course, everything came to a head this morning, when Captain Vargas told me about the result of your investigations.”
Alicia threw Vargas another look.
“I’ve just spoken to Gil de Partera, and we’ve compared your discoveries with those of the police. Appropriate action has been taken immediately. I’m sorry this happened while you were absent, but it couldn’t wait.”
Alicia kept looking furiously first at Leandro, then at Vargas.
“Vargas did what he had to do, Alicia,” said Leandro. “As a matter of fact, it upsets me to see that you didn’t keep me up-to-date with your investigation as we’d arranged. But I know you, and I know you didn’t do it in bad faith—I know you don’t like to let the cat out of the bag until you’re sure. I don’t either. That’s why I didn’t mention any of this to you until I was quite sure it was connected to our investigation. Quite frankly, I was just as surprised as you to hear about all this. I didn’t know you were trailing Sanchís. Like you, I was expecting something else. Had things worked out differently, I would have preferred a few more days to get to the bottom of it before taking action. Unfortunately, this is a case in which we can’t afford to take all the time we’d like.”
“What have they done with Sanchís?”
“Sanchís is being questioned at the police station as we speak. He’s been there for a couple of hours, cooperating with the police.”
Alicia put her hands on her temples and closed her eyes, pale as a tombstone. Vargas stood up, poured white wine into a glass, and offered it to her.
“Gil de Partera and all his team have expressed their gratitude and have asked me specifically to congratulate you both for the excellent job and service you have rendered the country,” Leandro remarked.
“But . . .”
“Alicia, I beg you. No.”
She downed her glass of wine and leaned her head against the wall. “You said that you also had some good news,” she said at last.
“That was the good news,” Leandro explained. “The bad news is that you and Vargas have been taken off the case. The investigation will now be exclusively in the hands of a new appointment made by the Ministry of the Interior.”
“Who?”
Leandro pressed his lips together.
Vargas, who had been silent until now, poured a glass of wine, this time for himself, and looked sadly at Alicia. “Hendaya,” he said.
Alicia looked at both men in bewilderment.
“Who the hell is Hendaya?”
3
The cell stank of urine and electricity. Sanchís had never noticed that electricity had a smell—sweetish, metallic, like the odor of spilled blood. The air in the cell was stuffy, saturated with that aroma that made his stomach turn. In a corner the generator buzzed, making the lightbulb vibrate. The bulb dangled from the ceiling, projecting a milky light over damp walls that seemed to be covered in scratches.
Sanchís made an effort to keep his eyes open. By now he could barely feel his arms or his legs, which were tied with wire to the metal chair, so tightly that it cut his skin. “What have you done with my wife?”
“Your wife is safely at home. In perfect health. Who do you think we are?”
“I don’t know who you are.”
The voice acquired a face, and for the first time Sanchís confronted those crystal-clear, steely eyes, so blue they looked liquid. The face was angular, but with soft features. The man speaking to him looked like a matinee idol, one of those handsome men who well-to-do ladies steal a glance at and feel a rush between their legs. He dressed with extraordinary elegance. Gold cuff links engraved with the eagle of the national shield gleamed on the cuffs of his dry-cleaned shirt.
“We are the law,” said the speaker, smiling as if they were good friends.
“In that case, let me go. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
The man, who had drawn up a chair and was sitting opposite Sanchís, nodded sympathetically. Sanchís noticed that there were at least two more people in the cell, leaning against the wall in the shadows.
“My name is Hendaya. I’m sorry we’ve had to meet in these circumstances, but I like to think that you and I are going to be good friends. Friends respect one another, and don’t keep secrets to themselves.”
Hendaya gave a nod, and two of his men came over to the chair and began to cut Sanchís’s clothes into shreds with a pair of scissors.
“I learned practically everything I know from a great man—Inspector Francisco Javier Fumero, who has a plaque in his name in this building. Fumero was one of those men who are sometimes not fully appreciated. I think this is something that you, Sanchís, my friend, can understand better than most, because the same thing happened to you. Isn’t that right?”
Sanchís, who had started to tremble when he saw how his clothes were being snipped off him, stammered out, “I don’t . . . know what you—”
Hendaya raised a hand, cutting him off. “We’re among friends, Sanchís. Just as I said. We don’t need to keep secrets from one another. The good Spaniard has no secrets. And you’re a good Spaniard. The trouble is that sometimes people can be spiteful. We must admit it. We’re the best country in the world, nobody can doubt that, but occasionally envy gets the better of us. And you know that. All those comments about how you married the boss’s daughter, how you married for money, how you didn’t deserve being made director general, how this, how that . . . As I say, I understand you. And I understand that when a man’s honor and his self-respect are put in doubt, he gets angry. Because when a man’s got balls, he gets angry. And you’ve got them. A good pair of balls.”
Sanchís’s voice drowned in a howl when the man operating the generator clamped the pincers on his testicles. “Please, don’t hurt me, no . . .”
“Don’t cry, man, we haven’t done anything to you yet. Come on, look at me. Look me in the eye.”
Crying like a baby, Sanchís looked up.
Hendaya was smiling at him. “Let’s see, Sanchís. I’m your friend. This is just between you and me. No secrets. You help me, and I’ll take you home to be with your wife, which is where you should be. Don’t cry, man. I don’t like to see a Spaniard cry, for fuck’s sake. Th
e only people who cry here are those who are holding something back. But we have nothing to hide here, have we? There are no secrets here. Because we’re among friends. I know you’ve got Mauricio Valls. And I understand. Valls is a bastard. Yes, yes. I can say that: I don’t have any qualms about saying that. I’ve seen the documents. I know Valls was forcing you to break the law. Making you sell shares that didn’t exist. I don’t know much about these things. Can’t get my head around all this finance stuff. But even someone as ignorant as me can see that Valls was forcing you to steal for him. I’ll tell you clearly: this individual may be a minister, but he’s a shit. And believe me, this is something I do understand, something I have to see every day. But you know what this country is like. You’re valued according to what friends you have. It’s like that, I’m afraid. And Valls has lots of friends. The sort of friends who are in charge. But everything has a limit. There comes a point when one has to say: Enough. And you’ve wanted to take the law into your own hands. Look, I understand. But that’s a mistake. That’s what we’re here for. It’s our job. Right now all we want is to find that rogue Valls, so that everything is cleared up. So you can go home to your wife. So that we can put Valls into jail once and for all, and he can answer for what he’s done. And so I can go off on holiday—it’s high time I did, I tell you. And then we forget about it all. You do understand, don’t you?”
Sanchís tried to say something, but his teeth chattered so much the words were incomprehensible.
“What are you saying, Sanchís? If you don’t stop shaking, I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
“What shares?” he managed to articulate.
Hendaya sighed. “You disappoint me, Sanchís. I thought we were friends. And one mustn’t insult one’s friends. This is not going well. I’m making it easy for you because deep down I understand what you’ve done. Perhaps others wouldn’t understand, but I do. Because I know what it’s like to have to put up with this sort of rabble who think they’re above everything. So I’m going to give you a second chance. Because I like you. But just a bit of advice from a friend: sometimes one has to know when it’s not a good idea to get all cocky.”
The Labyrinth of the Spirits Page 40
