The Shores of Spain (32 page)

Fortunately, the hotel wasn’t much farther than the restaurant, so they reached it quickly enough. Once upstairs, Adler vented his frustration. “You can’t just keep the book.”

“It’s my mother’s journal,” Marina snapped back, “stolen from my sister’s house. Why should you have any right to it at all?”

“I need it,” Adler said. “
She
needs it. If you take it back to Portugal with you, she’ll have nothing to negotiate with.”

“And what is she hoping to get in trade for the journal?” Joaquim asked him again.

Adler scowled at him. His eyes slid toward Alejandro, resentment there, although Joaquim couldn’t imagine why. Then he realized that Adler saw the boy as
another man’s child
. Evidently Adler wasn’t as kind as the elder Joaquim Tavares had been to Joaquim himself.

Joaquim tried for a conciliatory tone. “You said you think she lied to you?”

Adler didn’t look any happier, and jerked his head toward Alejandro. “Not in front of him.”

Joaquim cast a glance toward Marina, who didn’t look pleased. She held out her hand for Alejandro anyway. She picked up the newly purchased novel, led the boy back to the bedroom, and closed the door.

Joaquim turned back to Adler. “What do you think she lied about?”

Adler sat down in one of the leather chairs and stretched his long legs out. He touched his ribs and groaned. “When Leandra was supposedly executed, she was with child.
My
child.”

Joaquim was certain Alejandro was not that child. If Leandra had borne Adler’s child, it would have been nine or so by now. Besides, Alejandro’s parentage was all too plain.

“When my aunt contacted me with questions about Leandra, she mentioned there was a boy with her. My aunt said he was too young and that she was looking into it. She wanted me to
wait
until she had more answers.”

And Adler had resented that. “You didn’t do so.”

“No. I couldn’t, so I came to see for myself. Leandra told me that the boy was some other man’s son, not to worry about him.” He took a deeper breath and then grimaced. “Then she told me she was plucked off that island—the one where they left her to die—by a ship. The sailors beat and raped her into submission. She barely survived.”

Joaquim felt as if the whole world had shifted, and he was nauseated with the motion. The day before, he hadn’t asked Adler how Leandra had escaped her execution. The news that a ship had taken her from the Ilhas de Morte told Joaquim how she’d gotten to Spain. It could not have been her choice, not given what Adler just said. It sounded more as though she’d been carried into slavery.

He sank down into a chair across from Adler’s. As a police officer, he’d seen terrible things, heard terrible things, but he’d never gotten to the point where they didn’t bother him, especially when women or children were involved. “She lost the child.”

Adler laughed harshly. “It wasn’t until I was lying in that bed that I realized she
hadn’t
said that. She never actually said she lost
the child. She merely wanted me to go away, not to interfere. But I see it now.
My
child has to be alive still. That’s why Leandra let them take her back to the prison.”

That
would
give Leandra a reason to return to the prison. It made her actions more plausible. And it also offered an explanation as to why Madam Norton had been so helpful. She wanted to know the fate of the child. It was a family matter. Just as he was willing to interceded for Alejandro—a boy he’d just met—Norton wished to help her nephew’s child. Joaquim had no idea what he would feel in Adler’s place.

They’d assumed that Leandra was an agent of the Canaries. Given her actions, bearing the journal to Catalonia, it had seemed the logical conclusion. A very different interpretation of her actions rested in Joaquim’s mind now. Leandra Rocha was the
victim
in all this, and the theft of the journal—an article valuable enough to the Ministry of Intelligence to make it a bargaining chip—could be a desperate attempt to gain freedom not only for Alejandro but also another child, Adler’s child.

Leandra had been left chained on an island to die, but ended up on a ship instead. Joaquim had a very clear idea of what that ship would look like, a steam corvette with dark sails and a mermaid figurehead. It would have lain in wait until the sailors were certain that Leandra was too weak to fight them, and then the ship would have come to the island and taken her away.

What had happened to Leandra in the ten years between her supposed execution and her reappearance in the Spanish embassy? He’d been angry about the way she’d allowed Alejandro to be raised, but what if she’d had no choice in the matter? Alejandro had been born in that prison; Leandra might never even have held him in her arms.

“Mr. Adler, if you’ll stay here,” he said, rising from the chair.

“I’m too exhausted to go anywhere, I promise,” Adler said, waving one hand vaguely.

Joaquim went into the bedroom and pulled the door closed. Marina sat on the bed, Alejandro next to her as she read from the middle of the book. Her eyes lifted and her voice fell silent.

“I need to ask Alejandro a couple of questions.”

She marked the place in the book with her finger. “What is it?”

Joaquim came closer. “Alejandro, do you have a brother at the prison?”

The boy’s dark eyes seemed worried, but he shook his head.

“A sister?” he tried.

Alejandro shrugged in response.

“Did your mother tell you not to tell me you have a sister?”

The boy’s eyes darted about as he decided how to answer that, which was answer enough. He was an unusually reticent child, and Joaquim suspected that came naturally. But Alejandro was also
holding back
. How much did he know that he hadn’t told them because he’d been told not to do so? “It’s fine, Alejandro, you don’t need to answer.”

The tension on the boy’s features eased.

How far could he push Alejandro without breaking the boy’s trust? He didn’t want the boy to hate him, but he needed answers.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Alejandro, is your mother the only one?”

Alejandro’s eyes shifted to one side, hunting the answer on the coverlet. Then he shook his head.

“The only what?” Marina asked softly.

“You recall that when Duilio and I rescued your sister from the Ilhas de Morte, a ship tried to overtake us? I think the same thing happened to Leandra, only there was no one there to save her. Those men turned her over either to the Spanish government or to the Canaries. To someone who’s been controlling her ever since because she has children who can be threatened to ensure her compliance.”

Marina had paled. “You think there were others besides Oriana and Leandra?”

That he should be tied to two incidents ten years apart seemed unlikely. It was far more plausible that he knew of two incidents out of
many
. “I would lay odds that there were.”

Marina’s eyes glistened with tears. She got up off the bed and walked quickly to the bathroom. Joaquim looked to Alejandro. “At the prison, if you did something wrong, would they hurt your mother?”

After a moment, the boy nodded. Joaquim suspected the bargain went the other way as well, with punishment for his mother’s actions being taking out on the boy. That was why she’d left him behind in Barcelona. As long as Alejandro was safe, even in the dubious care of a beggar king, Leandra had freedom to act.

Marina emerged from the bathroom, her eyes reddened but composed now. “If Leandra Rocha needs the journal to buy the freedom of her child, we should let her have it.”

When weighing the safety of a child against solving a murder ten years past, Joaquim was inclined to agree. Leandra’s daughter had to take priority, even if it meant they never discovered who’d ordered the murder of Marina’s mother. And if there were others like Leandra, then any information she had could help free them. “I’ll go talk to Adler.”

He opened the door to the sitting room but stopped on the threshold, cursing himself for a trusting fool.

Marina’s handbag stood open, and Adler was gone.

So much for the man’s promise.

*   *   *

I
LHAS
DAS
S
EREIAS

D
uilio puffed out his cheeks as Captain Vas Neves lectured Oriana again regarding her safety. It was a waste of breath. Oriana had made up her mind.

They’d spent the entire morning in the dining room, hashing
out the information that Ambassador Norton had passed to them the day before, along with every other piece of intelligence they’d gathered. The captain, along with Benites and Costa, represented the guard contingent in this, although Costa had remained silent throughout the meeting. They were concerned with the mission itself, whereas Duilio and Oriana considered this a chance to make political headway with the government of the islands.

For her part, Inês sided with Oriana—perhaps the reason that Costa chose not to speak out. Although Inês had no information about the missing journal, she had retrieved her own personal journal from her mother’s house. It proved a fascinating source of information about the Spanish embassy and Madam Davila.

According to her notes, Madam Davila was fanatically devout and had even spoken of bringing Christianity to Quitos. Oriana snorted when Inês revealed that last tidbit, since the teachings of Christianity were not the best match for a female-dominated society, even the Virgin-centered version practiced on Amado. Madam Davila also required the domestic workers in the embassy to wear what she considered appropriately modest garb, a plain shirtwaist and skirt that matched the ones in the photograph of Leandra Rocha taken on the docks.

Another interesting tidbit was that the Spanish embassy never did business with the ships that came from Catalonia, as if Catalan captains could not be trusted to be loyal to Spain. Nationalism was a potent force in Catalonia. That made Leandra Rocha’s choice of the Catalan ship as transport back to Spain a telling one. Since that captain would not have been in contact with the embassy, a day or two might have passed before Madam Davila discovered that Leandra had left the island.

Inês continued to pore through her journal as they talked, one pointed nail skimming along the pages, her brow furrowed. Then she looked up. “I found it!”

“Found what?” Oriana asked, latching on to the distraction from the captain’s lecture.

“The woman’s name,” she said. “Evangelista. She told me her name was Lorena Evangelista.”

Duilio felt his own brow furrowing. “This is the woman you thought worked for the ministry. The one who was investigating the executions, right?”

Inês cast a brief startled expression his way, surprised he’d spoken out of turn. Then she took a deep breath and answered him anyway. “Yes. I wrote her name down because it was unusual.”

Names like Evangelista or Anjos or Santos were unusual here. They were distinctively Christian, although it didn’t follow that the bearer of the name would be as well. “Did you know anyone in the ministry with that name?” he asked Oriana.

She shook her head. “No, but since I intend to ask about her, it helps to have her name.”

Vas Neves shook her head slowly, but apparently had given up arguing.

CHAPTER 29

                   B
ARCELONA                   

J
oaquim tracked his sense of Adler along the Rambla, still seething. He was annoyed mostly with himself, since he’d been the one who’d trusted Adler alone. The man clearly thought nothing of breaking a promise. Joaquim had no doubt he could get the journal back from him without a fight. He could knock Adler over with a pillow right now. Marina followed, though, clutching Alejandro’s hand, and Joaquim wasn’t sure
she
wouldn’t resort to violence against the American.

They hadn’t gone far down the street when he felt he was close. Sure enough, Adler sat on a bench, one hand pressed to his ribs. Joaquim walked up behind him and set one hand on the man’s shoulder. “Give me the book.”

Adler didn’t argue. He must know he was too weak to do this alone. He withdrew the journal from inside his coat and handed it over. Joaquim flipped it open and glanced at the familiar writing, just to be certain. Marina caught up to him, her jaw clenched. Joaquim passed her the book and she quickly stashed it inside her handbag.

Then he saw that Alejandro was watching something behind them on the boulevard. Joaquim followed his gaze. Three of the red-and-blue-uniformed police stood under the striped awning of a store
that sold cigars and cigarettes, peering down at a sheaf of papers. One glanced up and pointed directly at Alejandro. Joaquim stepped in front of the boy, hoping to block their view, but two of the Mossos, one thin and one stout, immediately began jogging toward him.

Joaquim shoved Alejandro backward. “Get back to the hotel.”

Alejandro didn’t argue. Hand atop his cap, he took off running, although heading farther down the street,
away
from the hotel. One of the Mossos glared at Joaquim, but the thin man took off after Alejandro, and after a split second of indecision, the other chased the boy as well.

“Stay here,” Joaquim told Marina quickly. He ran after them. He was not going to let them get a hand on Alejandro.

The stout man stopped and threw a poorly aimed blow at Joaquim’s head. Joaquim stepped under that wild swing and punched the man in the stomach as hard as he could.

In the corner of his vision, he saw Alejandro dash down a side street. The thin man slipped on a puddle as he rounded the corner but managed to stay on his feet. Abandoning the gasping heavyset man, Joaquim chased them and rounded the corner only a dozen yards behind Alejandro’s pursuer. He jumped over the puddle and discovered that the side street he’d gone down opened out into another plaza where tables waited for lunchtime diners. Alejandro sprinted directly across the square, losing some of his lead. The man almost had him when Alejandro doubled back around the fountain and dashed toward one side of the square where a handful of tourists were lingering over their coffee.