Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (49 page)

"Don't you know? Everyone else in Spain, if not Europe, seems to. Haven't you heard the radio or TV?"

"I haven't a notion of what you're talking about."

A voice from the back of the room called out: "Exaltación Arellano Leiva".

Another one, rather quieter but still clearly audible in the hush that had descended after Pastor Nieves' entrance offered: "Those who claim to be lily-white usually are not."

"Sorry,
Señor Presidente
, I still don't understand."

A third voice from yet a different part of the room chimed in: "He might claim innocence but his wife and their adoptive son have been creaming it off for a decade or longer. He gathered the illegal fruits that she carried in a suitcase to Andorra."

Isidoro stared at the Prime Minister.

Pastor Nieves stared back.

From out of nowhere came a brittle acceptance of defeat. It showed first in Pastor Nieves' eyes, followed by his posture and finally his tone of voice. Pastor Nieves' whined when he next spoke.

"I knew nothing about what they were doing. We led such modest lives."

Now the new centre of attention, Juan Pastor Nieves convinced no one, not even himself. His slumping carriage conveyed his own disbelief. He recalled Silvestre's words from Thursday.

Unbidden, a fourth voice piped up: "Have you no decency, Señor? Resign. Go, preferably immediately."

Pastor Nieves turned, ashen-faced to flee. If it had been near silent before his departure it was now quieter than a calmed beach after a storm drops away to nothing.

All contemplated what had been said, and how.

Eventually this was broken by a lone cry of: "You can't go now, Isidoro. We need you."

Despite the lack of any obvious cheerleader, the room came together, spontaneously whispering, "Isidoro, we need you". From a whisper this soon changed to a chant.

Isidoro stood transfixed.

"What about my holiday in Riga?" he bleated.

The sheer inanity of his question shattered the mood, gradually descending into gentle laughter, and more than a little relief, as what he had said was shared from those close around to those further back.

His deputy, who had not been looking forward to working with Pastor Nieves, approached Isidoro, "You've no choice for the moment. Sorry, my friend. My guess is that you're stuck with us for a little longer at least."

Isidoro heard disparate cries from all around: "We agree," "What a relief," and "Thank God!"

"It won't be up to me."

"No? Just wait until the King calls for your counsel."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Satisfaction, for Some

Saturday: Rafa

Tío
Toño stepped off the AVE at Atocha. Though he would be staying at his own apartment he had not told Davide he was coming. He wasn't sure why, just that it felt right. In any case, before heading for Malasaña, he had another infinitely more pleasing task to complete. For this he had called ahead. Entering a taxi he gave an address on the northern side of Madrid.

Twenty minutes later, as the traffic was sparse, he arrived. He pressed the doorbell. Having been told which floor he required,
tío
Toño decided to walk up, rather than take the lift. In Marbella it was all too easy to be lazy and at his age he should make the effort on every occasion presented.

On arriving he touched the bell by the door on the right. Almost immediately it was opened by Rafa Garibey.

"
Señoría
, I hope you will accept my congratulations."

"Good evening,
Abogado
. Thank you, and please call me Rafa. From someone with your pedigree – no,
reputation
would be a more elegant phrasing – nothing more formal is appropriate."

They went not to the main salon but to Rafa's study where he offered drinks. Both chose Spanish vermouth, an old fashioned yet traditional aperitif that was slowly returning to popularity with the young.

Tío
Toño toasted Rafa, "
Salud
and again my congratulations. Plus, if you are Rafa, I'm Toño, especially to the man who felled a
Presidente del Gobierno
and
who has managed at last to open the can of worms that has poisoned democratic Spain for two generations if not three."

"You're too kind, especially as I've a confession to make. When I asked the question of that crook Corcuera about Exaltación Arellano Leiva – what names we Spanish give our daughters – I had no idea who she was. It was the press who found out, at just about the same time as my investigating team were briefing me. In truth I am grateful I didn't know in advance. Yet I'm not sure what I'd have done differently if I had known she was the prime minister's wife except I'm sure I'd have been more circumspect."

"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."