Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (40 page)

"But it was no more than, say, three weeks ago?"

"For sure."

"Thank you. Again, before questioning your client, I trust you will indulge me. I wish to ask Señora Certaldo some questions."

Caterina was led to a side table, one which Alfredo had not really noticed. A
Sala
official brought her the laptop. She did not touch it.

"Señora Certaldo, you believe this is your laptop. Please explain why."

"Whenever I've bought laptops in the past I've placed a thin red line on the side. As this is my third laptop when doing this there are three gaps in the red line, here."

She pointed.

"Is there anything else?"

"Yes. In the BIOS I add a small file, which, when unpacked, shows my name, date of birth and date of purchase. I can find out if it's present."

Caterina switched on the laptop. Before it could begin to load the operating system she pressed a function key and the BIOS menu appeared. Using an obscure key combination she identified a file and opened it.

"I have it here."

"What does it say? You don't need to share your year of birth, just the day and month will be fine."

Juez
Garibey looked almost indulgent.

"Caterina Certaldo, September 11 and the purchase date from three years ago."

"If I understand you correctly this would be proof that it's your computer?"

"Yes."

"And it was stolen from the offices of OverPayment Recovery Services in Alcobendas sometime between Wednesday and Saturday, about two months back?"

"That's correct, though this is not the same as when it was stolen."

"What's different?"

"Someone has loaded a different operating system, effectively obliterating my contents."

Thus far Alfredo was unflummoxed. Nothing was new here. He puzzled at where Garibey was going. It seemed a fruitless line of questioning. All he was demonstrating was that this machine had belonged to Certaldo and confirming that it had been stolen.

"Is there anything else you can add, Señora Certaldo?"

"Yes. Because this laptop has a positioning capability, I created a second small application that writes the laptop's position to disk whenever it tries connecting to the Internet from a location different to its previous one." Caterina pulled up another file. "It's open here."

"Can you tell me where the laptop was, say, on Sunday ten weeks ago and again on the following Wednesday?"

Checking the file, Caterina said, "On that Sunday it was in Malasaña, where I'm staying, and on the Wednesday it started in Malasaña and later moved to Alcobendas, to the address of ORS where I've been consulting."

"And three days after that?"

She read out two different addresses, one in calle
Serrano, another in La Moraleja.

"Thank you, Señora."
Juez
Garibey turned to Alfredo and said, "Señor, do you recognise any of those addresses?"

"I don't recognise the first two. The third is the address of the building where, among several other businesses, my family's legal firm has its Madrid offices."

He halted, unable to bring himself to say it.

Juez
Garibey, plus all in the
Sala
including Marta, hung on what he would say next. Unintentionally for Alfredo his reticence was expertly stoking the drama of the moment.

"The fourth corresponds to my Madrid home."

There, he'd said it.

"A little earlier this morning you mentioned buying this laptop in the
rastro
'no more than three weeks ago'. Yet the laptop shows that it was present at two locations where you have an interest, and six-plus weeks before you claim to have purchased it. Can you explain?"

Before Alfredo could formulate a reply he heard a brusque, "Stop! You don't need to answer here and now, Señor. That can wait till later. I suggest you leave your client to her other lawyer and seek professional advice for yourself. My initial assessment is that you've explicitly misled this Court regarding when you obtained the laptop. Additionally, you've probably misled me concerning how you acquired it."

White-faced, Alfredo could do nothing more than lowering his head in bleak acceptance. As he stood to go he said quietly to Marta that she shouldn't worry. There was no evidence that anybody knew what had disappeared when he loaded the new operating system onto the laptop. For that he was grateful. Imagine what might have been if the copy of her smartphone had materialised in the
Sala
.

Even so, matters looked grim for him. But Marta would not, however, be tainted by his stupidity, for that is what it was. He should never have authorised the robbery. Well, it was too late now. The milk was spilt, or whatever that stupid expression was.

Marta was shocked. The brilliant Alfredo Gómez tripped up by a pretty Australian girl massacring the Spanish language with her ugly accent. It was unbelievable. What would Puri do or think?

As Alfredo departed it dawned on her that all Alfredo's bland confidence that assumed Garibey did not know what he was doing had just been proved horribly wrong. The implications were not good.

A hand tapped her elbow. It was the first lawyer who had originally attended on Alfredo's instructions, though largely told by the latter to keep his silence.

"Señora, you should pay attention to
Señoría
Garibey."

Tuesday: Isidoro

Isidoro Silvestre felt on top of the world. To his amazement he had found himself fitting in smoothly to Consolación's household and the family's routines at the weekend. The children welcomed him as normal. They did not appear to see anything different. This, perhaps most of all, reassured him.

Consolación had solved the other 'not-so-little overhanging issue' with deftness. She had allowed him put his clothes and accoutrements in the spare room and children's bathroom when he returned on Saturday evening. That took the pressure off. When they had finally gone up to bed she kissed him thoroughly whilst on the landing but left it at that before disappearing into her own bedroom. He had climbed into the spare bed simultaneously frustrated and relieved.

Five minutes later she tapped on his door, let herself in and climbed into bed before he could react. It did not take long for barriers to break down.

Hours later he lay back in wonderment at his good fortune. He had told her so earlier. She placed a finger on his lips and said that she and the kids were the lucky ones, for she was so pleased to be in his bed, so would he possibly shut up and resume where they had left off.

He grinned to himself. The memory was made all the sweeter by his recall of his doubts about if he could perform adequately. He had, after all, led a pretty monastic life over the past decade.

Following a knock on his door, his assistant appeared, carrying yet more papers. He sighed. The work at Moncloa never ceased. It was becoming painful. Consolación had already suggested that if it was getting him down he should change.

His assistant said, "I must say, you've been looking abnormally pleased with yourself the past couple of days. Not even our illustrious master has managed to erode your positive expression."

He put her out of her misery and explained. She congratulated him. They bathed in mutual happiness. She was expecting her first child. She shone as any mother-in-waiting should.

His private line chirped. The moment was assassinated. As he reached for it they smiled in mutual recognition of what their jobs did to incumbents.

"Have you seen the news, Isidoro?"

"What news?"

"Is Moncloa still out of touch?"

At that moment his assistant reappeared and turned on the television in the corner, handing him the control. He had the television there for emergencies, like now. On screen he recognised a reporter, a distinguished journalist not given to the hyperbole of younger colleagues.

"... this morning at the
Sala de lo Penal
. According to this channel's sources, Alfredo Gómez, one of Spain's most distinguished and international lawyers, was effectively accused of lying and possibly commissioning theft by
Juez de Instrucción
Garibey de Williams who subsequently invited Gómez to excuse himself in order to find a lawyer to defend him. As if that was not bad enough, Gómez's client in court today, Marta Márquez from Valencia, is currently being questioned about receiving corrupt payments from big businesses, including Gómez's law firm, to pay off third parties including politicians, the Church and other organs of the state. This news is breaking. We'll update you as we learn more."

He pushed the mute button on the control as the screen returned to some form of morning chat show and said, "You heard?"

"Yes. That reporter summed it up better than I could. But I can add some more detail. It seems that among the next people being cited to appear by Garibey include the current Cardinal Archbishop and Inocencio Fajando of Opus Dei, plus some politicians from the left and the right. I don't care about the politicians. The other two I do. As mentioned before, I don't want to see the Church, or Opus Dei for that matter, dragged through the dirt. What are you going to do?"

"What do you expect me to do? I told you before, my powers are limited. The courts are inviolate. The justice system must be allowed to work."

Isidoro knew he was babbling, but what else could he say?

"In theory I understand you can do nothing. In practice Moncloa has always found ways to finesse situations like this to its desired end. Arrange for the Church and Opus to be omitted."

Isidoro's connection died. He was not sorry, until his assistant returned to say that
el Presidente
wished to see him immediately.

As he walked the few metres to the prime minister of Spain's magnificent office he reflected on how his wonderful beginning to the day – he held the naked image of Consolación in his eye – had turned sour in seconds.

He entered to find e
l
Presidente
, normally placid to the point of bovinity, raging at all in his presence, and there were many. As most of these were
funcionarios
, civil servants, from his support team this was unseemly, and unworthy. To behave like this with his politician peers was one thing, but to do so with people whose jobs were to serve was another. Isidoro was disgusted.

"Señor
Presidente
, please be quiet. You're being unfair and unreasonable."

Isidoro's voice was quiet but insistent.

Juan Pastor Nieves gaped. He sputtered but did not manage to add anything coherent before Isidoro had firmly instructed everyone else to depart. They looked relieved someone could handle the situation. The room emptied.

Once the room was clear Isidoro returned his focus to Pastor Nieves: "How may I assist?"

He offered this in the softest, blandest tones he could summon. He had never seen anger in Pastor Nieves. Now it was manifest, in full, purple and unroiled flow.

"How dare you! What do you think you were doing by telling me to shut up? I'm head of this government. I tell people what to do, not you."

"I apologise, Señor
Presidente
, if I offended. You may treat me as you will, for I'm paid for that. But you may not abuse the ill-paid servants of state who work tirelessly for you with minimal recognition and who cannot answer back because of fears for their jobs, careers and families."

There was a prolonged silence. His Prime Minister stared daggers of intense distaste. He paused before saying more. Eventually he asked, in an almost normal voice, about what Isidoro proposed to do to fix the situation.

"What situation? You mean a lawyer whom you personally were about to propose as His Majesty's Ambassador to Panama has been caught red handed? Nothing. The law must take its course."

"He is innocent until found guilty. But that isn't what I meant and you know it. What I want to know is how do we turn this
Juez de Instrucción
off? He must not be allowed to proceed. Too many interests are at stake."

"You'll have to talk to your Minister of Justice. However, I should warn you, Señor
Presidente
: if it ever emerges publicly that your government deliberately sought to bend the law to protect its own interests or that of others, there'll be a backlash. I predict that would require your departure."

Another prolonged silence filled the room. Eventually Pastor Nieves was the one to speak.

"I hate it, Silvestre, when you're elliptical and sanctimonious. You go on and on about corruption – as if anybody cares. Everybody knows about it. Everybody participates. It is how the system works. Nobody would be surprised if all is rearranged.

"Remember that I've earned my reputation for being clean. This was one of the reasons I was elected as
el Presidente del Gobierno
. If the office of
el Presidente
is clean then this flows down. So, to repeat myself, how do we rid ourselves of this nuisance?"