Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (25 page)

"Why wasn't there a guard inside as I asked?"

"That's my fault," responded Lucas. "I had intended to come in on Thursday morning to start cloning the smartphones that
Juez
Garibey authorised. I have them here. Unfortunately my estranged wife decided to dump our daughter Irena on me with no notice because Irena had toothache. My wife knew that Thursday was supposed to be my day off this week. After taking Irena to the dentist and comforting her, the idea of coming here in my spare time left my mind. In any case, I thought – wrongly it now appears – that the ORS locks would be satisfactory until I or Carlos arrived. Given that yesterday was a holiday this wasn't until today."

His countenance portrayed a mixture of guilt, resentfulness and shame.

"It's not your fault, Lucas. It's mine for not double checking. But it does leave us in a hard place, with no evidence other than what has been printed-out. I'm not sure what
Juez
Garibey will think. The idea of having a working smartphone with everything to see on it is quite different to a pile of papers with no obvious linkage or provenance. Oh well. Beggars can't be choosers. We were always going to have to put in some grunt effort working through the transactions. I guess you'd better get started by organising and copying the papers. You might also think of how we can scan as many of the printouts as possible so we don't lose some of the benefits of automation."

"Actually, sir, may I suggest waiting until Monday for the Australians? They seem to have a knack for making tasks simpler. We could learn a lot from them regarding how to exploit technologies. They are ingenious in ways that would never occur to me. They also make associations appear that we simply don't have the tools, or people that I've met, to match."

"I was going to call Ana and Davide. Maybe I'll only call Ana and you're probably right; perhaps we should leave everything until Monday. But we must do the crime scene reporting now. Keep the guard here, even if our key laptop has flown the coop, so to speak. Will you arrange the necessaries?"

"Of course, sir." Lucas paused and did something he did not expect of himself, nor would he of his colleagues or his compatriots. "I'm sorry, sir. I hope I've not ruined the investigation."

Pedro was equally surprised. A fellow Spaniard apologising? It was almost unheard of.

"Relax, Lucas. It can't be helped. A pity, yes, but these things happen, especially with computers. I doubt we'll find the machine. It's probably been destroyed or reformatted or something. I'd like to think this was a routine robbery but with them only entering this conference room it makes me suspicious. I noticed that the next door, into the back office, is also locked and unbroken. Was that because they decided to run with what they found or because this was a theft-to-order? That's the real question. We may never have an answer."

Pedro left. He was furious with himself. How was he going to explain himself to
Juez
Garibey?

Saturday: Caterina

Caterina woke early in Marbella. In one way it was odd having a bedroom to herself again. But
tío
Toño, being determinedly old-fashioned as he openly put it, had shown her one guest room on their arrival, while taking Davide to another. Their rooms were not close and, while initially a trifle put out, on balance Caterina found it gave her some space she had not realised she needed. That had been welcome, for she hadn't managed to ask Davide the other question when they were driving. It just didn't feel like the right moment.

Caterina opened the door to the terrace and stepped outside. In summer she would have chosen a long hard-paced swim. Now, even in an Andalusian autumn,
tío
Toño said the pool was too chilly for anyone except Muscovites or those who enjoyed ice with their crawl. She thought he exaggerated.

In practice it made no difference. Caterina had no choice, owing to her not bringing anything suitable for a pool. She could have bought an extravagant bikini at a knockdown, end-of-season price when they had sauntered through Marbella the previous day before lunch, but she had denied herself the opportunity. In any case the bikinis looked as if they were more for display than supporting serious athletic exercise.

Caterina wandered over to one of the outside pool loungers and made herself comfortable. Idly she picked up a stack of the same sort of photo and gossip magazines that Ana had shown her whilst researching the Márquez lady.

Caterina swiftly cast aside the first two, considering them rubbish. The third was printed on higher quality paper. The photos were much glossier, though featured people she could not place. Some were glamourous, others were plain weird. There was one collection of what, if she understood, were sisters who were cooks or
restaurantueses
or maybe TV people – with one celebrating becoming engaged. All were larger than life, literally; vastly rotund was more accurate.

After turning a few more pages, Caterina suddenly sat upright. She looked again. There couldn't be any doubt. There was the man in Márquez's photos, accompanied by a handsome wife and five children. She stuck a finger in the double-page spread and continued through to the end. She resolved to ask
tío
Toño about this guy.

She considered. She should probably involve Davide. He might have his own questions. Having finished that magazine she put it aside, leaving it open at the right page, and decided to drink in the sun which was warm and delicious. Thus far her conversations with
tío
Toño had been 'proper'. Yes, that was the sort of word that Davide would use. A very English choice.

In contrast,
tío
Toño was indeed the Spanish gentleman that Davide had promised. He bowed and attended her as if she was a goddess. It was, to start, a bit embarrassing to have so much flourished on her. Somehow she survived, even seeing Davide's knowing smile, and had swiftly come to enjoy his elaborate attentions, though she suspected they would become burdensome over a longer period.

Tío
Toño was an art form all in himself. He seemed to have clothes enough to suit an army and was able to change at least twice a day and still be wholly different. On Thursday evening it was a smart blazer with slacks, while yesterday evening he wore a 'smoking' jacket with aplomb. No wonder he thought Davide shabby, which he was by comparison.

Caterina was pleased that she had brought her better clothes along for the evenings.
Tío
Toño had cooed over her in the slim trousers and jersey from Rome, as had Davide who clearly remembered when Caterina last wore this combination. Her dress the previous evening had gone down even better.

The problem was what to do for tonight. She might have to go shopping after all. At least there were bargains available if she had patience to search the sales.

A sudden noise made her look up to see
tío
Toño, who asked if she'd like some breakfast. He indicated a tray loaded with what looked like fresh coffee, croissants and sliced fruits. Placing it between them, He asked whether Caterina had seen Davide.

Confirming that she hadn't,
tío
Toño said, "Good. I want to talk with you."

"That sounds threatening. Have I done something to offend?"

"Not at all, but maybe you will or perhaps won't. Forgive an old man who likes to think he stands
in loco parenti
s for Davide. May I ask what your intentions are? Are they honourable? Are you going to make an honest man of him?"

Caterina gasped.

"
Tío
Toño! You shock me! Don't you have this the wrong way round? Aren't you supposed to ask him all this about me?"

"Probably you're right. Yet in this modern world it seems that everything's turned upside down. Nobody cares. Ergo, I'm going to avail myself of the privilege."

"I don't know what to say."

"Ah! I was afraid that might be your response. No, I'm not blaming you or judging you. It's just that I'd love to see Davide settle, even if it's on the other side of the world. I think it'd do him much good, especially with someone like you."

Tío
Toño reflected.

"You see, he took it much harder than he realised when his mother – my sister – died. His father did all he could but he was so British. He built fortifications against expressing emotions or feelings. That's not the Spanish way, to suppress rather than express.

"If Davide seems remote, as you must've noticed, this is usually hidden behind ramparts of English-style politesse. Did he tell you that you're the first lady friend he's introduced to me? Thought not. He clearly cares. I see it, even if you don't, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

"
Tío
Toño, I don't wish to disappoint, and you do flatter me, but the truth is it may be me who's more the problem, not Davide."

"Oh? Care to elaborate?"

Caterina began to talk. Before long she'd shared a blend of her woes and misgivings and uncertainties, not only about Davide, but also what she was doing.
Tío
Toño lent a confiding ear, in a form she had not had the pleasure of since her own mother died. They talked continuously. The morning disappeared. Their breakfast was long since eaten.

As Caterina was winding down a door slammed.

Tío
Toño said, "That must be Davide. This has been most interesting. Thank you my dear. Your confidences make an old man rather happy that he can still listen."

Impulsively Caterina got up and wrapped him in a big hug, saying, "No, thank
you
,
tío
. You've enabled me to say many things to you that I'd probably never admit to myself."

Davide greeted the pair, jesting: "Are you proposing to run off together without me?"

"Your uncle has been a wonderful host. I was just thanking him for it."

Tío
Toño smiled with undiluted pleasure. Maybe there was hope yet. He beckoned to Davide to sit with them.

He was poised to go make more coffee when Caterina mentioned having a question for him.

Passing him the open magazine, she said, "Do you know who this man is?"

"You're in danger of ruining a beautiful morning."

"What do you mean?"

"That man is one of the most unpleasant, insidious and evil people in Spain. He's a man with fingers in many pies and loathed by far too few. Wait. I'll tell you more after I've made the coffee."

He stood, visibly shuddering.

As soon as
Tío
Toño was inside, Davide turned to Caterina: "Who did you ask about to get that reaction?" He glanced at the magazine. "Where did you find this?"

Caterina pointed to the ample stack of back gossip, "I started flicking through these and found 'him' with wife and kids. I was curious. Ana said nothing."

Tío
Toño returned with a small portable coffee machine.

Plugging it in, he said, "Choose how you'd like your coffees. You put the capsules in here, just as Mr Clooney recommends in his advertisements. Surprisingly, the result is pretty good."

A little later, when all three were sipping fresh coffee,
Tío
Toño continued discussing this 'most unpleasant man'.

"To give you a flavour, he was once accused of murdering his fiancée. He was never tried because he produced three different people to give him a rock-solid alibi. His name is Salvador. His grandfather was one of Franco's behind-the-scenes enforcers, or in other words, a thug. His father was less devious but died young and the old man poured his bile into his grandson."

Tío
Toño shuddered again.

"But, where the grandfather acted on behalf of the state in the shape of Franco, the grandson only acts on his own behalf. More people are afraid of him that you could imagine. He has fingers in many projects as well as, behind the scenes, links to both main political parties. He's a snake of the most odious form.

"Before I say more, will you tell me if or how you've come across him?"

Monday: Alcobendas

Monday morning was one of those nasty days in Madrid, when it combines grey, cool and wet. While infrequent, such conditions swiftly ensure that road traffic is a mess. Consequently, public transport behaves little better.

Davide and Caterina arrived back in Malasaña late on Sunday evening, finding a chirpy Emilia heading for bed. They followed her example. That was one of the less positive aspects about Marbella; it is not round the corner from Madrid. They were tired from all the driving, though they had shared it on the way back.

The commute out to Alcobendas that morning was, therefore, horrific. A journey that Davide expected to take under thirty minutes crawled as they stopped and started all along Paseo de la Castellana, after taking nearly forty minutes to cover 400 metres at its intersection with Abascal. Nerves were on edge. Snappiness between all three was increasing, not least because they were going to be at least an hour late.

Emilia called Ana to warn her, finding that she also was delayed in the Metro and had heard from Felipe that he was having problems. This news calmed the trio down, though not quite enough for Caterina and Emilia to exchange weekend experiences. Caterina was particularly interested to know what had made Emilia cheerful the night before.