Benefit of the Doubt
Page 24
“I know exactly what you mean. But I’m not sure your mum is in the majority there. David is full of his own doubts. He’s told me. They’re just different from mine right now. Or yours. Anyway, I’m still on the journey. I feel things are different. I’m not quite ready to put a name to it.”
Alison looked down.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she said quietly. “I just saw you go out and jumped to conclusions. It just felt like I was going to be the odd one out again. You know? Feeling kind of daft now.”
“It’s ok. Really. I’m not surprised. I can see how it must have felt.”
“So, what now?”
“No idea. Just wait and see what happens, I suppose. No flashes of lightning yet.” Gillian smiled. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“You don’t need to. It’s your business.”
“Well, we’re all involved in things that should be private to you. It’s only fair. We’ll just have to hope we both find what we’re looking for.”
David and Juan arrived back looking quite pleased with themselves having found the terrace café, the swimming pool and, predictably, the bar. They suggested a walk through the town. Gillian and Alison smiled politely, collected their things, and kept the conversation to themselves. Taking the Jag seemed unnecessary for such a short distance but it might be a long walk back so they compromised, ordered a taxi, and charged it to the room. Once over the bridge they were glad they’d left the car behind. Road blocks, diversions, and police were everywhere. They immediately thought it must be something to do with Raúl. Maybe the local force had got involved and something was happening. But the streets seemed full of happy people wandering about.
“¿Que pasa?” David asked the driver. It turned out they were right in the middle of the Fiesta de la Virgen del Sagrario, one of Toledo’s major festivals. They got out and began to wander up towards the cathedral. The streets were a riot of colour. The toledana girls had their finest flamenco dresses on in vivid colours with polka dot patterns and swirly hems – including one teenager balanced precariously on the back of her boyfriend’s scooter. The men were caballeros in tight black trousers, grey tunics, and wide-brimmed hats, or dressed as minstrels with period jackets and breeches. The children held balloons, sweets, and toys. Turning into the plaza they got their first close-up view of the cathedral, looking like a stone fountain frozen solid in honey-coloured pinnacles and archways. The complexity, intricacy, and scale were stunning. Draped around its feet was a full-blown medieval fair. Rows of stalls three deep were thronged with visitors and locals alike wandering about eating, drinking, touching, tasting, smelling, talking, and laughing. They joined the slowly moving lines strolling past the stalls. The atmosphere made Alison’s senses reel. The fragrance of roast suckling pig from one puesto was so intense they could almost taste it. Piles of fabrics and furs were heaped up in such a variety of colours and textures Alison and Gillian couldn’t resist reaching over and stroking them. The profusion was almost overwhelming – fresh bread baked in outdoor ovens, piles of spices and nuts, terracotta pottery, marzipan sweets and cakes, medieval armour, miniature statues of the saints like Hummel figures on their best behaviour, barbecue racks with chicken, pork ribs, and sides of lamb dripping over them, paella pans a yard across, strings of pungent peppers and garlic, antiques and bric-a-brac, replica firearms, racks of costumes, and finally an entire pig slowly turning over a pit of glowing charcoal. Round another corner a troupe of acrobats entertained the crowd to the sound of recorders and mandolins.
Suddenly, with a shock, Alison noticed that for some unaccountable reason she felt different. Without forgetting what they were there for some strange sort of peace seemed to have descended. She saw David and Gillian wandering ahead arm in arm and felt no resentment. Juan bought a box of sugared almonds and offered her one. It was perfect. A man in a jester’s costume tried to climb a pyramid of acrobats and pulled the whole lot over. She laughed till the tears came. It was healing and refreshing. Then, equally unbidden and unexpected, she heard her own voice as she had spoken not much more than an hour before – “… nothing magical has ever happened to me…” A shiver ran up her body ending with a tingle on the top of her scalp.
Just when it felt as if the sensory overload couldn’t get any more intense a trumpet blast split the air and a military band appeared round the corner, complete in blue fitted jackets with white lanyards and gold brocade, white trousers with a thick red stripe and silver helmets. They wheeled round in perfect time and headed for the cathedral entrance, sending the crowds scurrying to either side.
“So what do you think of a Spanish fiesta, Señora?” Juan shouted to Alison over the din.
“Awesome!” she shouted back. “But a bit noisy!”
“This is amazing!” Gillian shouted. “Did you know this would be happening?”
“No – no idea.” David just managed to make himself heard. “The Spanish love a fiesta. Any excuse. Every barrio has its own patron saint and its own version of the virgin so any time from May to October there’s always a fiesta somewhere.” The band paused at the cathedral entrance, turned and played a loud, brassy fanfare, then put their instruments down and filed in, followed by a stream of dignitaries and ordinary folk in their holiday best.
“What’s going on?” Alison asked.
Juan pointed to the mountains of fresh blooms on either side of the cathedral doors. “Blessing the flower offering,”
“‘Virgen del Sagrario’,” Gillian read the motto made entirely of flowers. “‘Ruega por nosotros’. ‘Por nosotros’ is ‘for us’. What does ‘ruega’ mean?”
“‘Rogar’ is to beg or plead,” David replied. “It’s asking the Virgin to pray on behalf of the people.”
“Can’t they pray for themselves?” asked Alison.
“That’s part of traditional Spanish religion. God is too holy to be approached. Even Jesus was too good and perfect. So the thought is if you could get Mary on side he’d be more inclined to grant your request.”
“Like getting the boss’s mum to put in a good word?”
“I’m afraid so. Not very biblical but that’s the tradition.”
They turned and wandered on again, pausing opposite a barbecue stall. It made as much sense to eat here as go back to the hotel so they queued up and collected plates of ribs, kebabs or drumsticks, fresh bread and beakers of cervesa or vino tinto.
“This couldn’t happen at home,” Alison stated as a flat fact. “Even if it was warm enough.”
“Why not?” Juan asked.
“Well, we’d all feel daft wandering around pretending we were medieval. Then the guys would all be wasted by half past one, the women would spend the whole day trying to keep them upright, and the kids would be nicking stuff off the stands. Anyway, the rain would probably come on halfway through and that would be that. Pity though.”
After they got back to the hotel they stood on the terrace after dark and watched exploding cascades of colour over the city. “Nothing magical,” Alison thought, the sky alight with fireworks. “Maybe I spoke too soon.”
Chapter 24
Conferencia
Next morning they had a Spanish breakfast of fresh fruit – oranges from Valencia, piel de sapo melon dripping with juice, fresh figs, grapes, dates, and pomegranates. For the carnivores there were a dozen different sausages and hams, supplemented by more kinds of bread and pastry than Alison had ever seen, with a choice of honey, jams, and of course mermelada de Sevilla. Top marks, however, went to the creamy scrambled eggs with asparagus and peas or avocado and prawns. These proved too much for the Scottish palate so Alison and Gillian stuck to the plainer alternatives. In the dining room, David picked out Rodriguez and Espinosa with a group of others he didn’t recognize. The group got up to leave at the same time they did.
“Meeting room two, fifteen minutes,” Rodriguez whispered as they met at the door.
“You have seen something of the city?” Rodriguez asked.
“A bit,” David said. “We had a meal in town last night and were able to walk round a bit.”
“It’s a beautiful city,” Gillian added. “I’d like to see a bit more of it.”
“Ah well, that brings me to my first point,” he said. “Our task is to locate Álvarez and recover the Señorita. My team have been briefed on your means of communication. We now have information to support your view that they are in Toledo. However, we have yet to identify the specific premises. If your guesses are correct then it’s likely to be somewhere on the hill, perhaps nearer the bridges. There are a limited number of locations so this may not take long. Then we must decide how we can get access to the girl – pardon me Señora, your daughter Jennifer – and remove her before apprehending the others. But in the meantime, I’m afraid I must ask you to restrict yourselves to the hotel. Álvarez and his associates will no doubt be around the city from time to time. We have no idea if any of you is likely to be recognized – Señor Hernandez, you had the group in your restaurant, I believe. So, we cannot risk further contact. I apologize for the restriction but there may be worse places to be confined. If you would be so kind as to charge all expenses to your rooms, this will be dealt with in due course. Now, assuming we can identify the location, how can we make contact? Señor David? You may still be able to pass a message?”
“I don’t know. It’s more than a week since we were last in touch. I could try to send instructions but we might have no way of knowing if they got through. If I knew what you were planning I could try to find a way to tell her to get out beforehand. Even to the garden or the pool.”
If Rodriguez was irritated by having a civilian intrude on his plans he didn’t show it.
“Ah. I regret this may not be sufficient. We will be surrounding the area. It would not be safe within the cordon. And it will depend on the layout of the premises. Anyway, we will continue with our discussion now, if you please, and meet again this evening. Briefings every day at ten a.m. and eight p.m. unless there is a change of plan. This is acceptable? Good. Many thanks again.” Rodriguez spoke in Spanish to one of the detectives near the door who jumped up and opened it for them. Their part of the proceedings was evidently at an end. Even before they had all left, the conversation had already begun in Spanish and different voices could be heard with different points of view. David wondered if not everyone was as pleased to have the pleasure of their involvement as El Capitán.
“What did you make of that, then?” David asked Juan once they had moved out onto the terrace overlooking the town.
“Either they have no idea how they’ll get Jen out or they have an idea but nobody wants to share it with us.” Juan summed up what everyone was feeling. No one answered him as the waiter arrived with three milky coffees, one black, and four slices of deep-filled apple pie and cream. Toledo was again looking fantastic just over the river. From here they could see even further round in both directions than from the balcony above.
“I keep looking at the buildings round the hill and asking myself which one it is,” Alison said.
“I know,” Gillian agreed. “It feels like this has been going on for so long. Now we’re so near. We just need to know the next move and get on with it.”
Suddenly Juan seemed to go rigid in his chair.
“Dios mío,” he said under his breath. “Nobody move. Try to look casual. Turn away if you can.”
Through the doors from the indoor salon a group of men were advancing. They strolled easily, confidently, even with a trace of a swagger. Most were young but one older man talked on a mobile. He was smiling and whatever he was dealing with seemed to be under control. David and the others sat at a table at one end of the terrace. The group chose a table towards the other end, grabbed some chairs not being used by an adjoining group – and sat down.
“Don’t get up. Don’t look round. Do nothing that attracts attention,” Juan hissed. The temptation to look was almost overpowering.
“What is it?” Gillian whispered back.
“You’re not going to believe this. Alison do not look round. That’s Álvarez and his men. I’m sure of it!”
A stunned silence followed. It seemed incredible, the very individual they had just been talking about was now less than fifty feet away. Their mixture of intelligent guesswork, coded texts, and inspiration had indeed been good – Toledo they had thought and Toledo it was. On the hill overlooking the city. Here was their quarry, though now hunter and hunted might have changed places. What to do now? If any of them made a move it might attract attention. If they sat stock still there was a chance Rodriguez and his team might appear. For the next half hour they sat almost completely rigid and in silence. Waiters were waved away. The coffee got cold. Nobody had an appetite for the food. Suddenly the delights of Toledo no longer held any fascination. Alison was almost dying from frustration to catch sight of the man who’d been filling her nightmares for the past six months. She might hear her daughter mentioned by name. David knew that it would more likely be simply the chica or even the abusive puta they’d heard once before. But instead they were talking about a casa – back home, a patria – in the home country, and mi tierra – my homeland. And they weren’t shy. They were laughing and joking, slapping each other on the back and shouting for more coffee. Perhaps they were on the brink of moving and in high spirits at the thought. The only consolation was that Álvarez’ back was to them and he wasn’t looking in their direction. After what seemed an eternity, the bill was brought, a few notes left on the table, and the group got up to leave. The Scots tried to shrink into their chairs and keep their eyes down. Concentrating on the unfinished coffee and cakes, they failed to see Álvarez turn on his way out, pause, look slightly quizzical, shrug, then continue to the door.
The instant they were gone, David and Juan raced to the conference room. Officers were packing up papers, rolling up a flipchart and chatting. David told them the news. Rodriguez immediately gave orders and a group of officers grabbed jackets and took off along the corridor.
“This may be a godsend or ruin everything,” the captain murmured. “It all depends if you have been recognized.” They sat in silence and waited. No more than two minutes later a pair of the officers came back all smiles. Two black BMWs had been just about to leave the car park as they got to the foot of the stairs. One pursuit car had got in behind them and was now following, ready to peel off at the first junction, leaving a second to continue before returning control to the first. Rodriguez pulled a radio out of his case and flicked it on. A running commentary came from the car. Given the geography of the hill, if their guess was right, they would have less than a mile to go to any of the properties they thought possible. Twenty minutes later both teams were back. High fives and handshakes were exchanged. They had a result.
“I really find it hard to believe we’re going to be this lucky �
�� or whatever Juan thinks the word should be.” Gillian sat at the mirror putting on make-up. David was changing his shirt for dinner.
“I know. It seems incredible.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it when Juan said they’d come in. Rodriguez wants to bring everything forward. He’s had watchers and listening devices trained on the house. He even thinks he knows which room Jen’s in. You know, we’ve been so keen to get to this point, now it’s about to happen there’s part of me that feels it’s all too sudden. I thought we’d be here for three or four days at least. Now it’s all come in a rush.” David sat down and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of his face and elbows on his knees. “I’d give a lot to know what we’ll be thinking twenty-four hours from now.”
“Well, I have an idea what’s going through Alison’s mind.”
“How?”
“She asked me to sit with her for a bit after you got back from speaking to Rodriguez. She’s finding the tension very hard. She’s got no one to share it with. Her mum’s… well, Mrs MacInnes, and Jen’s dad don’t seem to be on the scene at all. We’re keyed up but it’s not our daughter and we have each other to talk to.”
“How is she?”
“Not great. She had a bit of a cry then started telling me all about what Jen was like as a youngster. She was always getting into scrapes. When the drugs thing started Alison thought she’d lost her altogether. Now she might be getting her back – or losing her completely. She’s a complete bag of nerves.”
“Understandable. At any rate I’ve a feeling we won’t have to wait long. Rodriguez wants us all to meet again at eight tonight.”
Dinner was a sombre affair. Not even the perdices con chocolate or truchas a la navarra could breathe much life into the party. David felt the weight of his own past. He tried not to think that this time it was somebody else’s loved one, not his – not a very worthy thought but nevertheless true. They had had their moment of drama on the terrace – now they were spectators. Still he had a feeling there was a plan or a guiding intelligence underlying everything. How else to explain the chance gift of a Bible, the coded messages, the meeting with Rodriguez, now the location? For that matter if it hadn’t been for a girl about to fail first-year Spanish, Gillian might have been nothing more than another student in the class. So many chance events and what ifs. Calling it fate seemed inadequate. He looked at his watch and waited for the hands to drag their way to eight o’clock.