"Who cares? Watching the resignation of Juan Pastor Nieves on Wednesday was a joy to behold, at least for someone of my own sympathies, and I suspect yours. Did you see it?"
"Not live, but later on the Telediario news. Even then he made a hash of it, at least to my ears. Instead of resigning simply and cleanly, trying a half-baked defence involving ignorance of what his wife and adopted son had been up to didn't feel honest. It might have been true, but not the way he pleaded for understanding when the opposite was staring him in the face.
"Whether he was complicit or not I suspect we'll never know. But I've no sympathy, especially as the story emerged of how he admitted in front of a gathering of his Moncloa staff that he'd issued instructions to pervert the course of justice. What, Toño, was he thinking of, admitting an illegal order like that in front of so many witnesses?"
"I never liked the man. When Hernando Torres became Presidente del Gobierno I had high hopes for the country's future. I thought him a good choice for leading us forwards. His premature death was a tragedy. The succession of Pastor Nieves only made a bad situation so much worse." Tío Toño shook his head in disbelief. "Few will mourn that hypocrite, for that's how I suspect he'll be remembered."
"I agree, Toño, I agree. When the CNP first approached me I never imagined that it was going to end like this, not that it has ended of course. There'll be many formal trials but by then I will have retired. I've decided that this is my swan song."
"Good for you. Much better to exit on a high than creep away like I did. You're bringing to fruition my own feeble attempts to uncover the evil that's been intoxicating us. That's really why I'm here, to thank you from the bottom of my heart."
Rafa bowed his head briefly in acknowledgement of the compliment. He felt a touch overwhelmed. Here in front of him was Toño Sánchez Ocaña, a man he had looked up to in his early days, saying thank you to him. He would never have credited such a possibility, and certainly not six months ago when it looked as if he would be just another Juez disappearing into a retirement of obscurity tinged with disappointment at what he had failed to achieve.
They regarded each other with mutual respect. They both understood the costs and tribulations that each had suffered.
Rafa pulled himself together "You do realise that you're also part of my – our – success?"
"How so? I don't understand."
"My lead CNP investigator is one Pedro Casals, whom I don't think you know. He's a good man. He was brought into the case by a cousin of his, a young and rather special lady called Ana. In turn she was brought in by a relative of yours, if I remember correctly, namely Davide Shape. Your nephew?"
Tío Toño started to laugh, though it was more like elderly bellows wheezing. Rafa puzzled. Tío Toño went on to explain about Caterina and Davide visiting Marbella and the former asking him who Salvador Corcuera was – all because she had found his picture in a gossip magazine.
"What a strange coincidence, Toño. They never told me of this, not that there was any real reason to. What's even more extraordinary is that Señora Márquez was having an affair with Corcuera while seemingly never realising that among the many anonymous payments she distributed every month for so long was one to him. I don't think he knew they were from her either, although if he did, he's quite nasty and cunning enough to have started the affair to keep an eye on her, to ensure they kept coming."
"They were lovers?"
"Apparently. Speaking of Davide."
Tío Toño nodded.
Rafa continued: "I like him. He's refreshing. You said you'd met Caterina. Pedro's cousin, Ana; have you met her?"
"No. Your question sounds strangely ominous."
"Aaah! I'm not sure what or what not to say." Rafa hesitated. "I think you're in for a surprise. You may find Davide in trouble and in a form no man should have to face."
"Let me guess: woman trouble? There's Caterina, and there's Ana as well?"
"You have it. Two lovely ladies. No that understates their attractions – we can admit this between ourselves at our advanced ages – yet so very different in looks, in behaviour, in the way they think and act. Of course one is Australian, the other Spanish. Poor Davide. Perhaps, poor you. You may yet be the one to have to pick up pieces. Davide occasionally looks haunted."
"Rafa, thank you. I came to Madrid to honour you and am delighted to have this opportunity. This is a bonus, your warning me. I had a feeling when I last talked with Davide that something was off."
"Have you met the delightful Emilia? Watch out. She's a double handful in my judgement. Salacious and with an insatiable appetite to satisfy is an appropriate description but very able in her field. Professionally, Emilia and Caterina are both special. I wish I could think of a way to copy their intelligence into our own people here. Pedro tells me I'm being fanciful. In his words they are wonderful but weird – and he should know."
Tío Toño laughed, sitting forward before standing. "I should leave you, Rafa. You've had a long and successful week. Now I hope Spain will spurn its descent towards the Italian or Greek models and instead prefer the rewards of greater transparency like our northern neighbours supposedly enjoy."
He put his hand across mouth. "Aaah! I'm becoming simultaneously pompous and maudlin – a distasteful combination – which means it's definitely time for me to go. It's been a true pleasure to see you again, after far too long."
They embraced and Rafa led tío Toño to the door.
"You know, Toño, there's one other aspect that bothers me. Your nephew and his circus, for I can only call it that, weren't even looking for corruption. They are outsiders who stumbled on it by accident when trying to help an honest company deliver its service. Think about it. Are we all now so corrupt here that we can't see corruption when it stares us in the face?"
Tio Toño could think of no adequate response.
Saturday: Caterina
Tío Toño continued on to his piso in Malasaña. He was not sure what to expect. Being cautious he rang his own doorbell. Caterina appeared and welcomed him with an affectionate hug. She at least was happy to see him again, which was satisfying.
She invited him into his piso, which was somewhat ironic. That she thought so too was made clear by her apologetic expression. Before she could say anything more, a short, athletic lady appeared. Tío Toño stared in amazement. A part of his brain wondered how to capture her.
In front of him stood a ... he could not find the words. Her hair was as short as her skirt, which meant the latter revealed firm thighs with shapely calves wrapped in sheer black tights. Her blouse fit like a glove over a firm though not over-large chest. Her make-up was extravagant but not too obvious. Even to his ageing eyes she emanated sex appeal, almost like a cat in heat. He could not believe it. The only sensible part of her outfit was her shoes, which had some heel but not too much.
Caterina smiled at his shock.
"Emilia, this is tío Toño, whose apartment we've been living in for the past weeks. Tío Toño, my fellow Australian and colleague Emilia Romagnolo."
Clever girl. Not only she did state the obvious but it was done in a way that complimented and thanked at the same time. He returned her smile. He and Caterina still connected in the same way as in Marbella. He was pleased.
"Tío Toño," gushed Emilia. "It's wonderful to meet you at last. Davide and Caterina are always talking about you. We appreciate you letting us stay here. It's luxurious and so comfortable. I love the terraza and with Ángela's help my Spanish has improved, although my waistline would've done the reverse if she'd had her way. She's a wonderful cook."
"It is my pleasure to meet you, Emilia." After exchanging kisses, Tío Toño said, "Are you going out or are you always so 'engagingly' dressed? You look sensational."
Tío Toño hoped he had captured the right tone.
Emilia crowed with pleasure. Her laugh was not her most attractive attribute, but having to compete with her appearance meant it drowned by comparison.
"I'm going out
on the town with a new friend I met yesterday in the Retiro. I couldn't wear this to work. What would people think? And it would be a shame to waste it."
Tio Toño mentally disagreed. He knew exactly what everyone at work would think, and say, though not to her face. Strangely, his second impression was that whatever they might think or say would not bother her at all. She had an impressive self-possession, which no doubt attracted when packaged like that.
"I tried convincing Caterina to come out with me but she has no interest in finding the best in Madrid." Emilia pulled a disapproving face at Caterina, who declined the bait, before re-addressing Tío Toño: "I hope you're staying. I'd like to get to know you better."
"I plan to stay until the end of the week. I've some tasks to perform here in Madrid, though the one I completed on my way here was to my great satisfaction. It was to congratulate Juez Garibey, whom I believe you've both met."
Producing her smartphone from the slimmest of handbags, Emilia checked it before asking, "Would you excuse me, tío Toño? I have a taxi picking me up two minutes ago. I do want to hear what the Juez said, if you don't mind telling me about it another time?"
"Of course, my dear. I mustn't keep you from your assignation."
"Assignations more likely," countered Caterina.
Emilia and Caterina exchanged knowing glances.
Emilia departed after giving tío Toño a farewell kiss.
When the door shut behind her all he had been able to say was, "What an image!"
"You're not the first and won't be the last to say so, tío. That girl lives on pheromones and has done since the first day I met her. I don't think she's ever had a relationship lasting longer than a month. Even then there were few of those.
"Anyhow, I forget my manners. May I help you to your bedroom? You know that Davide insists that it's always kept ready for you? I'm also preparing a light dinner for myself. No, that's not strictly true. I'm taking the fruits of Ángela's wonderful efforts and assembling a selection for myself. May I interest you in joining me for dinner in your own piso? Or do you have other plans?"
"Thank you, Catalina. No, I've no plans. I'd love to join you. I can't think of anything nicer, and if it means suffering by eating Ángela's delights, I'm happy to oblige. She'll be especially happy to learn I've done so."
Actually, he did have plans. A discreet phone call from his bedroom would postpone those. He had seen the unhappiness in Caterina's eyes, however hard she tried to mask it. In truth, spending an evening in her company, rather than with a cantankerous old male lawyer friend, was a much lovelier prospect.
The only downside would be the unspoken elephant not in the room: Davide.
Sunday: Toño and Davide
Tío Toño walked up the slight hill from Malasaña to the southern part of Fuencarral, crossed the Glorieta de Bilbao and headed up the northern part. On Sunday mornings this was shut between the Glorietas of Bilbao and Quevedo with the roadway temporarily becoming a long pedestrian precinct where children came out to play and ride their various wheeled contraptions in the presence of friends, parents, grandparents and anyone else who cared to join in. It was cheerful. Temporary stalls were on the pavements whilst the cafés and bars were doing a roaring trade with the sun out, a clear-blue Madrid sky above and an occasional aircraft contrail to add visual vigour.
Yet tío Toño was apprehensive. The dinner with Caterina had been pleasant. It had been made better by her refusal to mention Davide until they returned to the salon for coffee. By that time she had shared much of what had passed since the visit to Marbella, especially as related to the investigation. He now thought he understood the background much better, helped by Rafa's own explanations.
In the salon, and by now more than a little inebriated, Caterina had opened up. Much as in Marbella she placed the blame more on herself and her own behaviour than on Davide. In his view it took two not to tango but he had refrained from saying as much. Instead he had listened until she wound down. They had, shortly afterwards, headed for bed.
By mid-morning, when he left to meet Davide, there was no sign of Caterina or of Emilia. As he left his building Toño thought he saw Emilia weaving her way down the street – dishevelled, if it was her. Deliberately he had turned to go in the opposite direction. He did not want to see the radiance of the previous evening ravaged.
Walking among the children with their grandparents was a particular joy. He remembered Davide as a small child in his sister's arms in this very street. After a couple of hundred metres he found the panadería Davide had suggested as having particularly good bread and took a table on the pavement outside that had just become free. He ordered a café con leche and opened El País to inspect the ruins of Pastor Nieves.
There he found was much gloating from the left. There was handwringing from the right, as if it had never been complacent. He soon found the unexpected.
A host of government ministers, from both sides of the coalition of PC and la Piz, and even senior officials of other parties, were resigning. Diputados were doing the same. Across Spain, whether in town halls, provincial assemblies or Comunidad parliaments the exodus was beyond belief.
What had caused this? Apparently, an emergency decree issued by the King. People were doing something unheard of – voluntarily removing themselves from office. Were they taking responsibility? That would be a welcome first, thought tío Toño.
Reading on he found the King had taken it upon himself, given the gravity of the national situation and the imminent absence of so many members of his government, to offer a sort of amnesty. If within the next six weeks those who had benefitted from corruption resigned their offices, confessed what wrongs they had done, renounced voting privileges and the seeking of public office for a decade and made at least 50 per cent restitution, criminal prosecution would not follow.
There were conditions. Confession had to be voluntary, public and registered within three months and came with the proviso that, if any part was proven incomplete or inaccurate, prosecutions would follow. In addition, all restitution payments had to be made to Hacienda within twelve months of each confession being registered. Again, failure to comply would result in prosecution.
The King had been cunning, reflected tío Toño. If A confessed that he or she had participated with B that placed pressure on B to do the same. Perhaps this explained the scale of the uptake in only a few days. The numbers left him speechless. Had everyone been on the fiddle? It looked like it.
For now, pending new national elections, also announced, the practical business of running the administration was in the hands of an Isidoro Silvestre, a largely unknown bureaucrat who allegedly had resigned from Moncloa the previous week because he refused to execute what Pastor Nieves had ordered – the termination of Rafa's enquiries. If true, he was a principled man. Good for him, thought tío Toño, although 'poor sod' is probably more applicable. The scale of the mess to handle and having to deal through the few politicians who remained would be monstrous.
"Buenos días, tío," Davide greeted Toño from above. "No, don't get up."
Davide leant over to shake hands and kiss him gently on one cheek.
"Only a coffee? Did you not order some of the Pan de Cullera for tostadas as I suggested?"
"I forgot the name. Now you can do it for us both."
Davide attracted a waitress and obliged. The pair inspected each other.
"You look as elegant as always, tío."
"You're looking much better yourself, Davide. It seems Ángela has worked wonders since our lunch."
"Everyone says so. Besides Ángela, it was you who's improved me. For her it's been a labour of Hercules."
"Not the way she tells it. She loves it and doesn't wish to stop. I'll be impoverished or dead before she's satisfied."
"You may be spared imminent penury. My involvement in ORS and with Pedro's people is pretty much at an end. I need to find some new clients. I can't live off you or the Vatican's reward indefinitely. That probably mea
ns leaving Spain."
"Are there no prospects here? Where would you go? Back to England? California? ... Australia?"
"You're trawling, tío. No, I don't mind. I knew it would happen. There's only one possible prospect in Spain at present but it comes with complications."
"More complications?"
"All right, I give in. What do you want to know?"
"Everything. What else?"
Before Davide could respond the tostadas and coffees arrived. He used the adding of olive oil and tomato to his tostada as a delaying tactic as he tried to decide in what order to explain. There was no good order. In any case, tío Toño sat patiently, not saying a word or offering any comfort.
His tostada finished, Davide had no alternative but to start. He guessed that what tío Toño really wanted to know was about Caterina. That meant explaining about how she had walked out, how he had accidentally been the person with whom Ana had shared her insights, followed by their subsequent incarceration in her apartment while matters took their course with the culmination being the events of the past week with Juez Garibey.
"Nicely presented, Davide. Absolutely in your father's style."
"What do you mean?"
"You know perfectly well. You've summarised all in a concise yet arid form without telling me an iota of what truly matters. Just like your father. In case you can't tell, what I want to know is how you feel about Caterina and Ana. I know nothing more about your feelings than when I arrived in Madrid to find you staying elsewhere and without having told me."
"For the latter, I apologise. I should have. As I told you, I was pretty much obliged to stay at Ana's. When our enforced seclusion ended it was too complicated to move back. And no, you can't ask if I've been to bed with Ana. That's none of your business."
Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit Page 35
