Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (29 page)

In trying to lighten the conversation he also described a little of what Emilia had told him after their exercise session in the Retiro, how she was working on interpreting some mysterious accounting system ORS had acquired a copy of. In his increasing inebriation, quite the reverse of Alfredo, he forgot that he had said anything before about an accidental backup.

But Alfredo had not forgotten. He could put two and two together and come up with five. What on earth had Marta been thinking? A different thought arose. Could he induce Alberto to act, perhaps offering some incentive like his ticket to Australia? It was worth thinking about.

When dinner was over, Alfredo poured Alberto into a taxi, gave instructions to take him home before waving down a second. He went in the opposite direction, to La Moraleja. His head was spinning with possibilities, though few of them were pleasant. The only positives he could detect were that ORS was near to collapse and no one must have cracked whatever was on the backup copy of what could only have been Marta's smartphone.

Just as he entered his Moraleja study, what should have been obvious hit him. What was Emilia working with? Surely the silver laptop now in front of him was unique. He now wished he hadn't been so precipitate when he installed the new operating system on top of the old. By overwriting what had been there he had no chance now of seeing what Emilia might be looking at. He cursed. But it was a nice machine. It had been far too good to smash.

Thursday: Emilia

On Wednesday evening Emilia wandered around
tío
Toño's apartment. With Alberto out dining with his godfather before heading home to his parents, she was alone and lonely.

If she had been at Ana's all would have been good. Emilia liked being with Ana though it was true that her
apartamento
was small and the spare bedroom even smaller. The sofa-bed barely fitted and it was a hassle having to make and unmake it every time she arrived and left. In that sense the space of the Malasaña
piso
was much superior.

Thinking back she realised that she should not have persuaded Alberto to come home with her, despite knowing exactly what she wanted, and what he had wanted though he would never admit it aloud. For a quickie it should have been a valuable release after a tense day. But it hadn't been. If anything it left her more frustrated than before.

By herself after he had departed and out-of-sorts, she almost wished Caterina was around, if only to tease. Yet the stupid sheila was away with her precious Davide, he introducing her to places in Spain he liked.

Half-dressed and nervy, Emilia checked her smartphone, to find a message that she had not seen or heard go beep. From its arrival time she knew why – it had been in the middle of her romp with Alberto. No wonder.

Emilia read the SMS with surprise. It was from Inma, asking if she and Caterina were free for a drink on Thursday. She replied with a certain nasty satisfaction, stating her delight about meeting up, though Caterina would be elsewhere.

Now it was almost nine on Thursday evening. She had, unusually, been uncertain what to wear. It had to stand out, yet not overly.

Some days earlier Emilia had indulged herself by buying something expensive and Spanish. In truth she had expected it to be another short dress. Instead she had found a skirt and jacket, almost a suit but better, along with a pale-green blouse that set off her colouring rather well. It was a touch severe, with the skirt's hem falling mid-calf rather than her usual mid-thigh. The sales assistant assured her, with her short hair, it made her look slender, taller and special. In the store mirror she could only agree.

Just putting it on again encouraged a sense of anticipation, albeit with an edge. She had met Inma only once, and with Ana. That had been purely social. What was this about?

To her surprise, Inma provided the address of a bar in a street not far from Ana's place.

When she had pointed out the relative closeness, Inma had disarmed any concern with, "What does that matter?" This assertion she immediately undermined by adding, "Ana hates the place. I don't know why but when I once suggested it she flat out refused to go".

By the time she reached the Trafalgar area Emilia was late, considerably later than she would have preferred. She was not going to rush and arrive looking uncool. That would destroy any impact the suit might have, especially if she had to remove the jacket to cool down. Damp sweat patches on pale green are rarely attractive.

Outside El Minotaur were several tables ranging along a tree-lined street, almost a boulevard. Inma was at none of these. Emilia looked round before eventually spotting Inma inside chatting to what looked like a bearded waiter and a waitress of about Emilia's height. Both were dressed in grey, a sharp contrast to Inma's black jeans and a man's pink-striped shirt with a light jersey round her shoulders. No wonder the conversation was animated. They must be chatting her up, to the evident irritation of a couple of other bar staff who Emilia saw casting occasional envious glances at their colleagues' inactivity.

Emilia approached. Reacting to the expressions of the waiter and waitress, Inma turned to greet Emilia. To the latter's chagrin, Inma said nothing about the dress. Instead she introduced Emilia to Toni and another Ana, the proprietors. They seemed young for this but welcomed her before withdrawing as good professionals should.

They regarded each other. Emilia was off-put by the dark glasses that Inma was wearing even though it was night-time.

After ordering their drinks, Inma said, "So how is everything with you? How are Caterina and Davide? Are they in Madrid?"

"I think they're in León or maybe Burgos. I forget which. Davide's squiring Caterina and she looks bemused. She doesn't know how to play the role of girlfriend or lover or partner or sex buddy."

As soon as Emilia made her last remark she regretted her vindictive-sounding words.

Inma winced, "Isn't that a little harsh?"

"You're right. I shouldn't have said it. I don't really think it. Sorry."

"We all err. It's forgotten."

"Thank you." Emilia was not convinced. Nor had she forgiven herself. "By the way, why are you wearing dark glasses? No offence, but to be honest, they're socially off-putting."

"Now it's my turn to apologise." Inma took off the glasses for a moment, revealing one normal eye with the other being angrily red with an enormous pupil.

Inma replaced the glasses, saying, "It's nothing serious, don't worry. I had eye surgery today to put in place a new varifocal lens. Next week, if all's well with this one, I'll have the other eye done. If that goes to plan, in about two-three weeks I'll have near normal eyesight and won't need glasses. But the key lies in the eye drops. I'll need to put something like 600 in over the next six weeks. But I can't stand the process. It always goes wrong for me. The drops miss my eye and wreck my make-up. But I must do it to avoid infection. Toni and Ana were helping me."

"What are you going to do tonight? Tomorrow morning? Haven't you somebody with you?"

"My sister accompanied me to and from the eye place this morning but she had to return to her own family. I thought I'd be able to cope. Truth is, I can't. I'm not sure what to do."

"That's easy. Do you have a spare room? Right, I'll stay with you. No, no argument. We'll finish our drinks here, go back to Malasaña so I can pick up some necessaries. and go to your place afterwards.

"Even better for you, I'd the same problem at uni but for an infected eye that needed antibiotic drops every hour. I was taught what to do. I thought I'd know. It seems so obvious. Yet I was told some people have real problems with eye drops. It took me a couple of days to learn a technique. I'll try teaching you what they taught me. I'll stay until you've got the hang of it."

Inma clutched Emilia arms gratefully, saying, "Would you? You've no idea how much relief you'll provide."

Turning she explained all to Toni, who refilled their glasses while adding his own thanks.

"On the house. We're pleased Inma's will be in the hands of someone who's been through something similar."

Friday: Valencia

Beata knocked and entered Marta's office and said, "Señora, there is a delivery for you. I offered to sign for it but apparently it must be done by you and only you."

"Curious. Let me see what needs to be done."

She followed Beata to reception where a smart suited young man was waiting. He looked more like a professional than a delivery man.

"Are you Señora Márquez? Do you have your identity card?"

"Yes, if you'll wait a moment I'll fetch my purse."

Marta fetched her DNI card from her office and presented it.

Having noted the number on the delivery sheet, the man said, "Will you please sign here for this delivery?"

She did so and accepted the attached envelope.

Turning to Beata she said, "I wonder what all this is about."

Back at her desk Marta opened the envelope to find a formal letter from the office of
Juez
Garibey de Williams of the
Sala de lo Penal de la Audiencia Nacional
citing her to appear before him in Madrid as a witness in connection with the affairs of Constructores Equilibris, ServiArquitectos and MMH. She was shocked beyond speech, not that there was anyone else in the room to speak to.

After what seemed like an hour, but was probably far less, her concentration was interrupted by Beata opening the office door to ask permission to leave for lunch. When Beata saw Marta she could not help asking her employer if she was all right.

"Yes, Beata. The delivery was a bit of a surprise. You go have your lunch."

Marta muttered to herself, "What do I do now? Alfredo, I guess. At least this was probably ORS related, and nothing to do with that damned copy of my smartphone."

But she couldn't be sure. All the more reason to talk with Alfredo. She placed the call.

"Marta! How good to hear from you twice in one week and before we see you at the weekend. Or has something come up to change our weekend plans? Puri should be on her way by now."

"Alfredo, that isn't why I'm calling. I've just signed for an instruction to appear before a
Juez
Garibey de Williams of the
Sala de lo Penal de la Audiencia Nacional
as a witness related to the affairs of CE, ServiArquitectos and MMH. Do you know of this
Juez
? What's this about? It must be ORS."

"You're joking? No, you aren't. I can tell by the shock in your voice. Stop. Take a deep breath. Now listen. Can you send me a copy of the documents?"

"Better than that, I can image it and transfer it to you. Hang on." Taking out her smartphone, she took photos, which she despatched to Alfredo. "Can you see it?"

"Yes. Hmmm. Well, from a first glance this must be about your dealings with ORS."

"That was my first reaction. But what if it's not?"

"How could it be otherwise?" What Alfredo did not volunteer was that Garibey had a crusading reputation, if a greatly diminished one. "Garibey's about to retire. I cannot believe it's anything serious. On the other hand, given the ORS connection, would you like me to represent you? No, that might not be a good idea as ORS is also seeking monies back from my firm. I need to do some checking. Don't fuss. I'll ensure that you have legal representation for when you appear before Garibey, just in case, you understand."

"Thank you, Alfredo. You're calming me."

"Meanwhile, I think we ought to do some more planning. It's fortunate that we're meeting in Valencia this weekend, especially as you're cited to appear next week. It also means that we can bring Puri into the loop."

"I'm not sure what I'd do without you."

"It's probably nothing serious, maybe ORS digging too deep. Relax, Marta. We'll have this under control in no time."

He hoped.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Questions Commence

Sunday: Madrid

It was with a certain malicious pleasure that Emilia told Caterina that she was staying with Inma. She could have added the detail about helping Inma with her eye drops, but deliberately chose not to. Emilia was sure the news wouldn't make Caterina happy. She was obscurely pleased at her retaliation. After all, she had been left out time and again by Caterina and Davide who still refused to tell her anything about what had occurred in Rome. That continued to bug her – badly.

As for Inma, she was having genuine problems with the all-important eye-drops. Inma possessed a strong reflex instinct to close her eyes at just the moment of putting anything in them. On Friday evening and Saturday morning Emilia had needed to engineer surprise to succeed and success was required to prevent any infection establishing itself. Fortunately, using some exercises that Emilia had learned back home, Inma was finally making progress on self-dosing. Today Emilia had only needed to help a couple of times. The rest, and there were a complex mix of different drops at different intervals to handle, Inma was managing herself.