by Les Cowan
The thought struck him incongruously that this was very much like a day out doing sales calls in the early days of Warehouse 66 before he gave up his job. He had had so much optimism at that time of his life. Nothing was impossible. Young people were coming to faith in amazing numbers and soon the older group who had started the effort were in the minority. These were the pioneer days – no rules and no limits. If God seemed to be in it, they did it. That was even before they were Warehouse 66 – when it was just plain Torrejón Iglesia Evangélica. It was only when they had gathered the first 150 and needed bigger premises that the idea of turning an old American Air Force warehouse to better use came up. Number 66 was on the market. It had a huge concrete apron ideal for parking, any amount of space inside, and most importantly was cheap. To start with they felt like refugees at a welfare centre huddled together at one end of the shell singing into the echoey heights with no decoration, heating or anything else. But as the new church grew, money came in. People who had next to nothing gave more than they could afford and God blessed both them and the church. They never took an offering but simply left out a box, and time and again the treasurers would empty it out at the end of a service to find it stuffed with notes, cheques, and promissory letters. Gradually, bit by bit, they were able to buy sound equipment, build a stage, have the building plastered, put up a ceiling and partitions, make a suite of smaller rooms, buy Sunday school materials, add an adult baptistery, buy chairs, and make what started off as a bare shed suddenly feel like home. Meanwhile everyone he met on his sales calls kept asking him what had happened to make him so cheerful. Was it a new contract or a big bonus that plastered that permanent smile across his face?
Most of them thought he had gone a bit loco but others were interested and a few came to church. One or two went all the way. Then they got a dose of the stupid grins as well and had to explain that to their girlfriends and colleagues. So the bandwagon rolled on. Then it jumped off the tracks when Rocío disappeared. But many more came on because of what happened to her. Now Gillian was coming nearer to faith. And there was Eric – despite David’s own lack of conviction about the process. Maybe Jen herself would find a better reason for living in time to come. It wasn’t a bad thing to give your life for. He felt a shiver up his spine and looked at the dashboard clock. Still only 11 a.m. as the car coasted effortlessly up and over the Sierra de la Rabara, giving him a panoramic view out over the plain to the south then more wooded slopes in the distance. In spite of everything he was smiling. For the first time in years, despite everything, live or die, he once again felt that a power was in control beyond his choices and beyond his understanding. There was certainly nothing he could do now, so it was absolutely and completely “over to you”.
The kilometres slid by and David drove on as if in a bubble. The demands of other people looking to him for a lead were behind. What that day and tomorrow would bring hadn’t yet arrived. He hummed a tune, turned on the cruise control, and unwound the seating angle a few more degrees. Around 11:30 he found a roadside café and stopped to join the truckers, farmers, and business travellers for a café solo and a tapa. The big screen TV was showing highlights of last night’s Champion’s League with Sevilla running rings around Inter Milan, which made everyone feel even better. Even David found himself getting caught up in the cheering at a Luis Fabiano goal from forty yards. Back on the road again he joined the main carretera just past Consuegra then let the miles roll by. Soon he was passing Manzanares and onto the long straight main road almost due south across the sun-baked plains of La Mancha. The nearer to Valdepeñas he came the greater the expanse of vineyards stretching in all directions. This was claimed to be the largest single extent of vineyards in the world and so it seemed. By 12:30 he was nearing the outskirts of the town but instead of driving in and getting clogged up in roads he didn’t know, he turned off slightly to the north, climbed to a viewpoint over the town – and waited.
Chapter 27
Calatrava la Nueva
The morning was wearing on at the Parador de Toledo and some sense of normality returning. Juan got an emergency GP appointment for Jen then took her to the hospital to visit her mum while they were waiting for the results of her tests. In the meantime he went off to wander around town to calm himself down and pray. He would pick her up in an hour and a bit and take her shopping. At the hospital she was ushered into a side room to find her mum still groggy but smiling.
“Hi Mum,” she said quietly. “They let me go.”
“I know,” Alison whispered. “They told me. I’m so glad to see you. Are you ok?” Jen nodded and took her mum’s hand. They squeezed together but Jen’s grip was stronger.
“Mum, I’m so sorry for everything. I never thought it would happen like this…” Alison shook her head.
“Shhh… It’s over now. You’re back and we can all go home.” Jen knew that wasn’t true but couldn’t bring herself to explain. The consequences were still working themselves out – not so much like ripples in a pond as an avalanche still gathering speed downhill. She desperately wanted it to be all over so she could get back to plain, simple, boring normality. She wanted to go to school and sit with her friends in a maths class. She wanted to moan about school dinners or get asked to the youth club disco. She wanted to do her homework by the fire and watch some pointless soap. Above all she wanted to go to bed at night and know she could sleep till morning without a drunken Latino gangster barging into her room and pulling her bedclothes off. She knew that she could never go back to how it was before but hoped there might be moments, then hours, then maybe even days, when she wouldn’t be thinking about the horror and wanting to forget.
“How long will they keep you in?” she asked.
“Not long. The doctor’s English isn’t too good but I think he said another day. So maybe tomorrow sometime. What will you be doing?”
“I don’t know. Juan said he’d take me shopping.”
“That would be nice. Have you met Señor David?”
“Yeah,” Jen nodded but said no more. She didn’t want her mother to ask about David or Gillian. She changed the subject.
“I’ve learned a bit of Spanish.”
“That’s good. What can you say?”
“Just the usual stuff – hullo, how are you, what’s the weather like. And I can say things I like and don’t like and ask where things are. I can even play Mus. It’s a Spanish card game, so I know all the numbers.” Alison smiled.
“Well done,” she said. “And you’re a Bible expert too now.”
“Look, I’ve still got it.” Jen smiled back and pulled a very dog-eared, scuffed, white leather Bible out of her hip pocket. “I didn’t know why you gave me it. I suppose it saved my life.”
“I suppose it did. You were very clever to work it all out. I didn’t catch on but Señor David guessed. You’ll like him when you get to know him. Gillian’s lovely too. Have you met her?”
Jen ignored the question and looked at her watch instead.
“Sorry Mum. I’ve got to go. The nurse said just five minutes and I’ve got to meet Juan.” She leaned forward and kissed her mum on the forehead.
“Love you, Mum.” Alison smiled again. She felt completely at peace.
“I love you so much,” she murmured. “I’m so pleased you’re back. Now we can all go home.” Jen kissed her lightly again then squeezed her hand and jumped up. She did a tiny wave at the door, mouthed “see you later” and was gone. She knew her mum ought to be stronger before she found out that things weren’t quite as simple as she thought.
She let the door softly shut then meandered down the corridor in no particular hurry – Juan might be another hour yet. Like any hospital, anywhere in the world, every junction seemed to have a dozen different signs guiding visitors to various departments and services. Some of them were almost the same as English, others she could guess, and some she had no idea about. A middle-aged porter wi
th a neat haircut and pencil moustache passed her, pushing an elderly lady in a wheelchair. He wished her buenas días and smiled. She smiled back. A few yards on she stopped and looked at a framed display of children’s posters encouraging healthy eating. Probably a primary school project. The bright colours, childlike figures, and funny antics made her laugh. She wandered on till she got to the waiting area at reception. A drinks machine stood in the corner and she had just enough money for a can of coke. She felt proud that she had managed to follow the Spanish instructions and was rewarded with the dull clunk of a can landing in the tray at the bottom. She took it out, pushed back the tab, and took a long drink. Here she was, doing an ordinary thing in an ordinary place without anyone to fear for the first time in months. It felt strange but good. She could hardly remember what normal life was like and even found it hard to remember the “good times” before Raúl started to get angry with her all the time. Anyway it was over. She felt bad for the others but in herself she felt free. When she was younger she liked listening to her mum’s old records and teasing her about how Noah must have had a record player in the ark. The Who were her favourite. Now she could hear Roger Daltrey singing “I’m free” in her head. She drained the can, dropped it into the recycle bin, and even lifted another empty one out of the litter basket and dropped it in too. She was going to be a model citizen from now on. She looked around for a vacant seat. The small tables built into the rows of plastic chairs had piles of Spanish magazines. She found a seat next to one and began to look through them in the hope of finding something familiar. Maybe she’d recognize some of the Spanish celebrities. It was so normal. She loved it. And maybe she would be home soon.
Suddenly there was a terrific commotion at the entrance. Two burly men in jeans and denim jackets came barrelling in half carrying, half dragging a third and shouting at the tops of their voices. Somehow they lumbered the man up to the reception desk and started demanding something or other. He was severely overweight and not easy to manage. He was also unconscious and Jen guessed the other men were his friends and had brought him in as an emergency. The receptionist seemed to be telling them to go to another department and was pointing back outside but they were having none of it. They kept shouting and pointing to their friend. Suddenly he seemed to regain consciousness for a second, groaned, and was slightly sick. Along with everybody else Jen was mesmerized. After more shouting one of the men banged his fist down on the desk and the receptionist gave way. She picked up the phone and gestured to the men to sit down. She must be summoning a doctor. They turned round to carry their friend to the row backing onto Jen’s. For the first time she got a good look at the patient. It was Sebastian, Raúl’s cook! What on earth was he doing here? He never looked well at the best of times but now his lips were blue and his face as white as a sheet. Beads of sweat coursed down his forehead. Maybe a heart attack or a stroke, or even a drugs overdose? Thankfully he was drifting in and out of consciousness and in no condition to notice her. She didn’t recognize the other men but in any case quickly turned back round and slumped in her seat, heart thumping. A wave of panic swept over her and her palms were sweating. The other men were too preoccupied to pay her any attention. Less than two minutes later a doctor appeared with two porters, spoke briefly to the men, and had the patient manhandled onto a trolley and wheeled off down the corridor at top speed. The two men tried to follow but were sent back. This time they complied and sat back down immediately behind Jen. She slid even further into her chair and tried to make herself invisible. Now Sebastian was somebody else’s problem, they calmed down. Soon they were laughing and joking, maybe wondering if it was one of his own “specialities” that had done the damage. Then they seemed to change the subject. Although she was terrified of being identified she was also fascinated to see what she could learn. She heard Raúl’s name mentioned several times. From their tone of voice they seemed to be discussing something that seemed uncertain. It was almost as if they were weighing up pros and cons. Then she heard the names “Gillian” and “David” – Gillian with a soft G and David with an “ah” an “ee” and a “th”. Then one of the men spoke.
“¿Dónde esta la cita?” Jen knew that dónde meant “where” and she’d heard the word cita plenty of times. It was a date or a meeting. Raúl had them all the time. She held her breath and strained to hear.
Before long she noticed Juan approaching the door. She got up as casually and naturally as she could and made her way out. The double doors opened with a hiss. Juan was smiling and about to ask if she was ready to go shopping but Jen spoke first.
“We’ve got to get back to the hotel. I know where Gillian is.”
Captain Rodriguez listened carefully to everything Jen had to say.
“Are you sure you weren’t recognized?” was all he asked. She was as sure as she could be. The men who brought Sebastian in weren’t part of Raúl’s core group and she’d never seen them before in Edinburgh or Toledo.
“And have you told anyone else about what you have heard?” Rodriguez was looking from Jen to Juan and back again. They both said no. He looked relieved.
“Well that is something, I suppose.”
“What happens now?” Juan asked, leaning forward.
“Now? Well, I would say that depends a bit on where Señor David is,” Rodriguez said with a smile. “He should certainly be consulted, don’t you think?” That stopped Juan in his tracks. He was on the point of making up an excuse when something in the captain’s look made him stop.
“He’s on his way there right now,” he said flatly.
“Ah. I did wonder at him leaving so soon. A great shock, of course, but to disappear, with an overnight bag, when a loved one is in danger…? Not what I would have expected. Not of Señor David.”
“Raúl gave Jen a message for him. He was to go to a meeting. They would tell him where. All we know is that he was to head east.”
Rodriguez leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and clasped his hands. He spoke quietly but seriously. “Thank you, Señor Hernandez. I appreciate you are all concerned for your friend but if we are to be successful then we must work together. If you had failed to give me this information then I could have told you nothing further. But you have chosen to trust me – a little late perhaps, but trust all the same – and so I will also trust you. This is fair, no?” He turned to Jen. “Thank you for that information, Señorita. My main concern is that you have not told anyone else what you have found out. This is essential. You see, I already know where the Señora is. And I know Señor David is on his way there. Not only do I know where the meeting is to be, but in fact I suggested the location.” Juan half rose out of his chair.
“You?” he said, incredulous.
“Well,” Rodriguez continued, unmoved, “not exactly. I made the original suggestion but someone else actually put it into Raúl’s mind.”
“Just exactly what’s going on here?” Juan was red in the face now and on his feet, leaning over the table. “Are you saying you’ve known all along and still let David go off on his own?”
“Calm down, my friend. Which question would you like me to answer first?” Juan sat down and controlled himself with difficulty.
“How do you know where Gillian is?”
“I told you – I suggested it. Let me go back a little. You remember our discussion in Madrid. I mentioned to Señor David that we have been experiencing a certain – how should I put it – lack of security, in operations concerning Señor Álvarez. This is why I have taken responsibility here. None of the men in this team has ever been involved in an operation concerning him before. But his way of working is always to make sure he has inside information.”
“Like Escobar.”
“Just like Escobar. He is used to corrupt policemen and indeed expects it. So perhaps he might not be surprised if someone in the new team were to contact him and offer a little information for some suitable reward? And this i
s just what happened. For a fee, Raúl was given information from the very heart of our operation.”
“And how… I mean who…”
“Momentito Señor.” Rodriguez held up one hand and with the other picked up a phone. He spoke rapidly in Spanish. A few seconds later the door opened. Espinosa came in and took a seat next to Jen. He looked briefly round, then back to the captain.
“Espinosa happened to make the acquaintance of your host, Señorita. He offered some information and appropriate assurances and, I am glad to say, got a positive response.”
“The man nobody was allowed to see!”
“Señorita,” Espinosa replied with a nod.
“So you had someone feeding information to Raúl? And that’s how he knew when the raid was going to be?” said Juan. “But why would you tell him about a raid you yourself were planning?”
Rodriguez paused for a second.
“Do you remember the discussion within my team? Matters grew, shall we say, a little heated? Well, we could not agree that evening. Where possible I aim to have an agreement among my team before we act. In what we do it is essential to trust one another. We could not agree on how to get the Señorita out of the house before the gunfire began. Any way we thought of was going to be too dangerous. So I suggested we invite Señor Álvarez to do it for us. Espinosa was able to give him the details of our plan and suggest there would be a great deal less police attention if Jen was returned before they left. Maybe they would even be allowed to leave the country without too much fuss. It was not our intention that Gillian should be taken in exchange. That was a surprise and most unfortunate. However, when we found out he wanted a meeting and that Gillian would be there, then naturally he would want somewhere he could be sure was far away from the city and any police presence. So Espinosa was able to introduce an idea to him, based on his knowledge of the region and police deployment. He is from southern La Mancha. Again we were lucky, pardon me Juan – gracias a Dios – he took the bait and so, I regret to say, while of interest to us, what you heard this morning was not strictly news. But it is very useful to confirm that there has not been a change of plan.”
