Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit

by Charles Brett

  Pedro hesitated before saying, "I'm not going to give you the list but will read you some of the names that Ana thinks are reflected in the M-Out accounts."

  Having listened to him read, Garibey said, "My God, Pedro! If that's true, this is even worse than the B Accounts case. This is a minefield you present." He halted himself. "What do we do next?"

  "My recommendation is that you authorise my people, supported by Davide and Ana, to follow up what the latter believes. I'm going to ask you to go one stage further. Please find a formal way to bring Ana and Davide into this process because this is so sensitive that it must not leak until we establish the truth, or otherwise, of the M-Out details. I don't want even Caterina or Emilia on the inside. They're not Spanish."

  "Neither is Davide."

  "His mother was Spanish and he has UK and Spanish passports. By the way, his uncle is Toño Sánchez Ocaña, the lawyer."

  "What a coincidence! Do you know him?"

  "No, only of him."

  "I've met him a couple of times. He was formidable in his day. That Davide should be related is perhaps a godsend, or a liability. Does he know anything?"

  "I haven't asked but will let you know when I do."

  "Thank you. Now I 100 per cent agree that I should bring Ana and Davide into the formal process. Will you arrange for a time when they can visit me in my Sala so that I can pull my heavyweight act?"

  Saturday: Madrid

  Ana put her mobile phone back into her handbag and said to Davide, "I think you may receive a call any moment."

  "What do you mean?"

  Before Ana could explain, Davide's smartphone beeped. It was Pedro.

  "Davide, I've just been with Juez Garibey. Can you speak up? There's a lot of background noise from your end."

  "I'm on a bus.

  "Ah. Thank you for warning me. I'll be careful in what I say. As mentioned, I've spoken with Juez Garibey. He wants to see you and Ana early next week to make each of you formally a part of my investigating team in such a way that is distinct and discrete. He and I are insistent that what Ana thinks she's uncovered remains completely beyond wider consumption until we've proved or disproved some of the M-Out entries. Apart from me and Juez Garibey, only Ana, you and a couple of my people are to know anything. Please do not say anything to anybody without my or Juez Garibey's express approval. That includes Emilia and Caterina as well as Carlos and Lucas."

  "I understand."

  A céntimo dropped: "What bus are you on? The background sounds very similar to when I was talking with Ana a few moments ago. Are you with her?"

  "Good police work, Pedro. Yes, she's beside me – laughing her head off."

  He scowled at her, which only made Ana chortle more. When she smiled like that she possessed a radiance he hadn't appreciated before. Most people look better when they smile, especially Caterina. But Ana's one placed her in a different league.

  "I won't ask more. Just be discreet, please."

  "We will. See you on Monday?"

  "Probably, though I'm not sure where. It must not be Alcobendas or in any CNP offices. This I must think about. Call me first thing Monday morning. Explain to Ana and ask her to do the same – or will one call suffice? No need to respond. I'm suggesting nothing."

  Pedro disconnected.

  Davide sat back, bemused.

  Ana asked, "What is it?"

  "I can't possibly say, other than I imagine he told you about going to see Juez Garibey and not telling anybody else of your suspicions."

  "Yes. But what can't you say? Come on, Davide? Don't do your silence act."

  Davide was still puzzling over Pedro's comments, "Ana, is there more to this than you've told me?"

  "In short, yes. You recognised some of the names but haven't yet applied the network dimension. It's the interconnections that will do the greatest damage, if the M-Out entries are accurate. Wait and see. Now tell me, what else did Pedro say?"

  "He wants me to call him on Monday to decide where to meet. He said you should do the same. He finished by wondering how many calls he needed to receive."

  Ana turned crimson. Caught out by her cousin when talking to Davide. How could he? She wanted to call Pedro back and excoriate him on the spot. She took a deep breath. That was hardly practical, especially in front of Davide.

  She was rescued by Davide, though whether intentionally or not she couldn't tell.

  "Explain to me more about the Monasterio of San Lorenzo de El Escorial. It may seem odd but I've never been."

  "Well, there it is. Look! That's it."

  As the bus tuned right Davide had a view of an enormous carved stone building topped by a baroque dome. Its size was impressive, its severity more so.

  A few minutes later they were walking back along the road the bus had taken. As they rounded the corner Davide began to appreciate the Monasterio was even more massive than he had thought from the bus.

  Ana said, "Mierda. Look at that queue."

  "It's not as bad as the one for the Vatican Museums. That can run to two kilometres or more, unless you know the 'other way'."

  "That doesn't cheer me, Davide. If we want to go inside we're going to have to line up for at least an hour or more. Do you mind if we don't bother? We can still see the Basilica though you won't be able to see the bed from where Felipe II could view the altar."

  "View the altar from bed? That sounds almost sick. No, that's fine. The Monasterio has been here for more than four hundred years. I guess it can wait for my inspection a little longer."

  Ana kicked Davide. "Stop being conceited. It doesn't suit you. Perhaps we should queue, just for your penance."

  "Don't talk to me about penances. I had enough of those in Rome ... Ana?"

  "Yes?"

  "Look near the entrance. Isn't that Márquez?"

  "The one in the white trouser suit? I think you're right. She's a stunner, if you like your ladies well-built and pushing the limits of their clothes' seams."

  Ana tried to gauge Davide's reaction but observed nothing. She should have expected as little.

  "She's with Salvador Corcuera and two others I don't recognise. Or could one of them be the lawyer Gómez? After Pedro's call that's another reason not to go inside. I don't think they've any reason to recognise us but we should be careful. Okay, you're right. No Monasterio for you today. Let's walk to the Silla of Felipe II instead."

  "His armchair?" questioned a doubtful Davide.

  "Absolutely. It has views you'll appreciate."

  They walked round to the far side of the Monasterio, through an arch and a second gateway, before heading down a gentle decline through trees and with a fabulous view of Monte Abantos behind. Davide breathed in the fresh air and the autumnal colours. This was an aspect of Spain he loved, when day were warm but not oppressively hot. He felt relaxed for the first time in several weeks, a condition that Caterina was not good at creating.

  Ana glanced at Davide. Something about him had changed in the last few minutes. She was unsure whether to ask. Her nerve failed her. Instead she accompanied Davide's long stride, no difficulty for her being tall and with the longer legs.

  Ana wished she had dressed up more, but it had not seemed appropriate. She wanted to attract his full attention. It never seemed possible.

  The silence built. It oppressed her though it did not seem to bother him. She wanted to scream. How could he do this? How could he be so mean?

  "Ana, calm yourself. I'm not ignoring you. It's beautiful here. Take it in. Thank you for suggesting this. You deserve a matching present."

  He turned and kissed her lightly.

  She didn't know what to do or say. Ana was so surprised she did not have time to respond as she wanted. In a second he had her all switched around. How could he do this to her? But now the question was how to get him to do more and preferably with enough notice that she could provide the responses she wanted and hoped he did.

  Saturday: Isidoro

  Isidoro felt ashamed, almost guilty. Hi
s friend Hernando was dead and here he was leaving the house of his widow and children. He looked around, almost expecting paparazzi. He mentally chided himself. No one was interested in him or even Consolación now that Hernando was no longer. In the past it would have been different.

  These days Consolación and her children lived above San Lorenzo de El Escorial, in a house Isidoro had found for them when Juan Pastor Nieves, as the incoming Prime Minister, insisted they be ejected from the prime ministerial residence within Moncloa so he could take rightful possession. The location suited. It was a small town. There were good schools plus connections with Hernando's family. It had regular buses and trains to Madrid. Yet it was not far from the shopping centres of Majadahonda and Las Rozas.

  The house was big enough with a small garden that was private to allow the children to play safely. There was a tiny local bus that was useful though the older two could walk safely to school. Best of all were the astonishing views. On a clear day it was possible to see the silhouette of the cement works on the southern horizon near Morata, almost 90km away. Between lay the reservoir of Valmayor and the towers of Madrid, whether the four at the north or even the angled ones at the Plaza de Castilla. Behind the house lay Monte Abantos, blue skies and innumerable walks, ones he had taken with Consolación in the immediate months after the funeral.

  He enjoyed visiting and knew that he had been true to Hernando. He had looked after Consolación and the children as Hernando would have wished.

  Yesterday evening Consolación had sprung a surprise on him, one for which he was totally unprepared. She had asked him, diffidently as if she was also uncertain, if he would live with her.

  Him? A committed bachelor, at least to his siblings. To him who was a poor marriage prospect with no experience of living with any other except his own company.

  He hadn't responded well. Consolación was disappointed. It had been tangible. But she also knew him. In her place he would have kicked himself out for being so ungracious. She hadn't.

  Instead she had continued talking as if nothing untoward had been said. This continued long and late, though to no consequence. It was way after midnight when he rose to go home. She stopped him and had instead offered the spare room. In her words it was too late to drive home tired and emotionally wrung out, especially with the Guardia Civil testing drivers for having had too much to drink.

  He saw the sense, amazingly, and had accepted. The relief on her face was palpable, even for him. It was probably the one good deed he'd managed.

  This morning he had been down early. She had beaten him and was preparing for when the boys descended clamouring to eat, beating their sister almost on principle. When they appeared they had regarded him without curiosity or surprise, politely saying buenos días as if it was totally normal to find him alone with their mother.

  Had she discussed her offer with them in advance? It wouldn't surprise him. Consolación was a surprising lady, and capable. At university she had been quiet but always at the centre of male attention. That she had chosen the purposeful Hernando was expected by their contemporaries.

  That she should look to him now was extraordinary. They had talked about some of this the previous evening. He hadn't been able to hide his astonishment, however unintentionally impolite.

  She had countered by telling him something he could never have known, that for her the choice had always been between Hernando and himself. The difference was, and he found himself filling in the words, "Hernando made the effort." It was true. He had not been able to persuade himself that he might succeed, so he had been happy to admire as Hernando won her hand.

  "I was lucky to find Hernando. I was unlucky to lose him. I've no intention of losing you now, unless you don't want to be with me. You are a good person, Isidoro. You care, are considerate and have been generous beyond measure. I need you. I think you need me. But that's for you to decide."

  Long after breakfast Isidoro asked if he may walk down the hill into the town for a coffee. He was both disappointed and relieved when she declined to go with him. There were some homework to finish and later the children had friends coming round to play – one of the attractions of the garden.

  Sitting at a table outside a bar in the Plaza de la Constitución, Isidoro considered while watching the world pass by. What panicked him was the notion of losing his privacy. He was too old to change. Yet being with Consolación was a delight, if he could exclude Hernando-related guilt.

  Whilst reflecting, Isidoro saw four people approach and take seats at the next door bar. They looked so normal, two couples enjoying being together. One of the ladies was slim with short white hair cut in a modern style. Looking more closely she was probably not that much younger than Consolación and with the look of a smoker or ex-smoker. The other lady was in a white-trouser suit stretched at every seam, appearing gorgeous but over the top. He tried not to stare. Suddenly it dawned on him that one of the men was the lawyer Gómez who might be an ambassador. They had not met but Isidoro had seen the approval papers.

  He turned his chair to be less obvious and made a decision. He called Consolación from his mobile to apologise.

  Her voice sounded dead as she replied: "There's nothing to apologise for, Isidoro. You're always welcome though I doubt you'll want to come back. I shouldn't have said anything."

  He heard the gulp in her throat.

  "No, Consolación. I wanted to ask if I may come back this evening. That is if you're still offering and can put up with my fumbles?"

  He cringed at his voice's diffidence.

  "Are you serious? Of course you may. Come back now. Let's celebrate. Isidoro, you'll make all of us very happy."

  "Finally I manage it," he responded dryly, making her laugh. "I can't return now. I need to head into Moncloa for a while and later go and pick up some clothes from my piso. If I'm back with you by six can we celebrate then?"

  "Of course, you daft duck!" Each snorted at a shared memory. "Until six."

  Grinning like that infamous English cat, he paid for his coffee and ambled back towards his car. In front of him were a striking couple. She stood tall with slim legs well-proportioned to her height and dark in the Spanish way whilst he looked Northern European. They were speaking a mix of English and Spanish, each shifting in and out of either tongue with a facility he envied.

  Little did Isidoro realise that, in one small provincial plaza, he was sharing space and time with six people well down the road to shaking Spain's establishment to its core. If anyone had told him at that moment he wouldn't have cared either.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The First Flies Drop

  Monday: Malasaña

  Caterina was beside herself. She had returned to tío Toño's piso in Malasaña the previous evening expecting at least to find Davide and probably Emilia. She felt stupid and miserable. Yet again she was messing up herself and Davide. It was time to redeem herself.

  But Davide wasn't there. Nor did he return, at least not by the time she had gone to bed having sunk the greater part of a bottle of vodka, some with tonic until that ran out. She had finished it neat.

  Emilia had been another no-show, probably playing with Alberto, Ana or Inma was Caterina's savage conclusion. Or had she found someone else? Caterina remembered that there were a couple at the most recent Retiro exercise session who Emilia said she'd fancied. When Emilia talked of trying it on with both, Caterina was uncertain whether she was having her on or was being deadly serious. Most likely the latter was the correct assumption, given that she had shown off their contact details. Emilia's missions to conquer had known few bounds back home. Here it was more of the same, albeit after a slow start.

  Caterina remembered little more, other than waking in the middle of the night with an acute need for the bathroom, water and painkillers in that order. She had fallen back asleep immediately, only to be woken by her alarm. She stood and was grateful, after a shower, for no lingering hangover though she deserved it.

  In the salon she fo
und Emilia chatting to Ángela who was clearing Caterina's debris.

  "Is Davide ready, Caterina? We should be heading off to Alcobendas."

  "I haven't seen him since Wednesday," Caterina blurted out. "I came back yesterday evening and he wasn't here, nor did he turn up before I went to bed."

  "Having consumed nearly a bottle of vodka. How's your head."

  "Better than it should be. Do you know where he is? Where were you?"

  "Let's go for our usual breakfast and talk over coffee. I think you need it. I certainly do, along with some of that wonderful pan catalán. Did you eat anything last night?"

  In the café they ordered and took a table. By now they were established customers, thus both coffee and food were brought to their table along with glasses of water. Caterina drank hers greedily.

  Emilia said, "So where have you been?"

  "I'll ask the same of you in due course. I went to a hotel on Wednesday. Davide was getting to me."

  "What you really mean is that you were getting to yourself as usual when you feel in danger of committing to anything emotional."

  "Emilia. That's unpleasant of you."

  "But no less true for the saying. I'm right, aren't I?"

  "Sadly, yes. I don't know what to do. One moment I feel secure with him and the next totally insecure. He's too good for me. I'm not good enough for him."

  "You're more than good enough for him. Is he good enough for you?"

  "But you didn't meet tío Toño. He asked me – me – if my intentions towards Davide were honourable, given that Davide was his favourite sister's only child. Can you imagine? He placed a guilt trip on me. I haven't been able to forget."

  Emilia was startled. Caterina had not said anything of this. Reflecting, she could see tío Toño's point, as well as why this should inflame Caterina's already overly delicate sensibilities.

  "Do you know what you want? Do you know what Davide wants?"