Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (31 page)

Señora Cárdenas shook her head decisively, saying, "I don't recognise anything. I'd have to ask my people to research what these are and even if they are records from ServiArquitectos."

"Speaking of which," said Señorita Carbajal, "where did you obtain these? Are they the property of ServiArquitectos?"

"My investigations obtained them from ORS, the company you've retained to look for such instances. Maybe these are clerical errors. But I'd like to understand how a company like ServiArquitectos was able to make such duplicate or even triplicate payments. The amounts are enough to affect its profits, correct?"

The ServiArquitectos team looked at each other. Señora Cárdenas shrugged her shoulders.

Señorita Carbajal said to Juez Garibey, "What is it you want?"

"I've an ongoing investigation as you now know. It's not into ServiArquitectos
per
se
but into what happened to the monies that were double paid. What my investigating team would like is access to your past accounting systems to see if your records can assist us further. If you'll facilitate this I'm reasonably certain that later involvement of ServiArquitectos can be kept to a minimum and possibly only as an injured party, one inadvertently overpaying."

Juez Garibey didn't believe a word of what he was saying. These people at ServiArquitectos were almost certainly complicit somewhere. Yet he had chosen to phrase his request in such a way that, if ServiArquitectos did not agree, it would suggest there was more he should investigate.

He saw the same analysis occurring to Señora Cárdenas and her lawyers. When Señorita Carbajal asked what specific type of assistance was required he knew he had won round one. Now it would be up to Pedro and his teams to see what they could find, if anything.

Tuesday: Alcobendas

Pedro arrived at the ORS offices early.
Juez
Garibey had alerted him yesterday about the good news wherein the M-In team would have full access to at between five and seven years of the historical accounts of CE, MMH and ServiArquitectos, though the latter came with various caveats insisted on by its lawyers. He had not been surprised by the latter, more that the first two had rolled over and agreed to so much – until
Juez
Garibey had explained his approach.

Today was a day for action. He needed Caterina, along with Carlos, to define what information they wanted and subsequently to supervise obtaining its delivery. He had called Caterina the previous afternoon. Later he had received an SMS stating that she would be arriving by train at Chamartin Station at around nine o'clock this morning, apparently without Davide who had to drive their rental car back. He had deputed Carlos to pick her up.

Carlos was enchanted. He was forming an affinity working with Caterina. Pedro just hoped it did not proceed too far. Carlos was recently divorced and obviously uncomfortable at being single. That Caterina was a few years older wouldn't bother him; hopefully it would inhibit Caterina, even with relations with Davide being as up-and-down as they permanently seemed to be.

Also, there were Emilia and Lucas in the M-Out team. They needed warning about the information deluge about to hit after Caterina was primed. The issue that the M-Out team was stuck on was the same old one. Where to find a bank account or some record where the investigation could see a payment out to a destination they could then
subpoena
whatever access was appropriate.

He heard the outer office squeak. In came Emilia and Alberto. That was a strange pairing. He welcomed them and Alberto gave Emilia a quick peck on the cheek before leaving for his part of the ORS offices.

"Come on in, Emilia. We may be about to start making progress again."

He brought her up to date and was just finishing when Carlos and Caterina walked in. Caterina looked travel worn.

"I don't know why I do it for you, Pedro. It must be because Davide likes you so much. Getting up at 4.30 a.m. for Davide to deliver me to a station at 5.30 to catch a train with no coffee available before seven o'clock. I must be mad. It was miserable and my seat wasn't working properly, which mattered in a coach full of worthy business people coming to Madrid. I almost envy Davide and his drive here." She grimaced. "Is Ana around to order some proper coffee and something to eat?"

"Just arriving. Here you all are."

Ana walked in with a tray of coffees and a selection of croissant-like pastries, which, judging from past weeks, she knew Caterina and Emilia could rarely resist.

"Good timing, cousin," said Pedro. "Caterina was just becoming anxious and hungry."

For the next hour he focused on refining what Caterina needed and Carlos was to obtain.

Suddenly Caterina had an idea: "Do you think that CE, MMH and ServiArquitectos would let us have online access to the non-current years that we want to trawl? I'm thinking it'll be faster and simpler if each told us where the data's stored and authorised us to access it. We'd then be able to check the information in the way its people do, as well as run our own extracts of data for downloading, analysis and cross-matching. This would avoid having to ask their computer people to perform special tasks which might delay us a week or more as they prepare the data and try to do their own jobs at the same time."

"That's neat," confirmed Carlos. He turned to Pedro: "If I make official contact with the people at the three companies, can it hurt to ask?"

"I don't see why. What will you need here?"

Caterina said, "The laptops can act as terminals. If we can enter via their virtual private networks there should be no difficulty about respecting each company's security."

"Okay. I suggest you two try your best. It'll be good if it works. Keep me in the loop." Pedro turned to address Lucas, Emilia and Ana: "Tomorrow is the day that
Juez
Garibey talks with Señora Márquez. I hope we'll have some more by tomorrow evening."

"Do you think we will?" asked Emilia.

"At this stage I haven't a clue. There are so many uncertainties. It may all hinge on how the
Juez
asks his questions, how much he chooses to share of what we know. He has a difficult balancing act."

Wednesday: Isidoro

Isidoro grunted the most minimal of responses before passing through to his office. He had left another depressing meeting where his role as
Jefe de Gabinete
was undercut. Already uncertain, he was not sure how much longer he wanted to take these near daily humiliations. Thus far he had tolerated – just – what was happening to him.

"
Buenos días
, Señor Silvestre. How are you this morning?" His assistant used the formal 'you' (
usted
) rather the familiar (
tú
). Such obsolete formality reigned within Moncloa, especially under Pastor Nieves who demanded every show of respect which he could obtain. This rubbed off on others.

If only he had someone to talk to like Hernando had done. Part of the role of
Jefe de Gabinete
should be as a sounding board for
el
Presidente del Gobierno
.

But this prime minister talked to almost no one. He was like a recluse. He listened, listened patiently, listened some more, delayed, prevaricated and possessed all the appearances of a belief system in which he expected time to solve all problems. A nice idea. But to Isidoro it wasn't practical in a political and economic world where external pressures, especially those from financial markets, moved events in seconds and could surprise anyone at any moment.

A nub of a truth that had been teasing him for all the time he'd been
Jefe de Gabinete
rose up. Politicians hated that events could ruin their best laid plans. This was understandable. Politicians hated even more the power of anyone or anything else, especially faceless markets, to make or break their precious policies and thereby the credibility of those self-same politicians. Again, understandable. But did politicians hate, for example, financial markets because they were an unpredictable and immovable force? Or were politicians resentful that anything could be more important than themselves? In the case of Hernando he thought the former; with Juan Pastor Nieves it was manifestly the latter.

He answered his telephone: "Yes, put him through."

Half an hour later, a long time in a
Jefe de Gabinete's
usually interrupt-driven day, he replaced the phone. He approached his assistant's desk, preferring to ask in person than by intercom.

"Could you find me something to eat, some bottled water and clear anything I have booked for the next hour?"

"But Señor Prieto is waiting to see you. He's been here nearly fifteen minutes and it was you who invited him."

"Please apologise. If he can wait an hour, which you should make clear he is under no obligation to do, I'll see him immediately. Otherwise I'll call him by this evening to rearrange. And yes, I'll personally make the call to Señor Prieto."

He returned to his office and shut the door. He was about to find out, though he did not wish to, whether Juan Pastor Nieves,
el
Presidente del Gobierno,
really was a leader with an ostrich mentality who would be remembered for it.

Preferring to pace rather than sit he walked around his office, which – as befitted his status as the prime minister's nominal right-hand man – was large with pleasant views over the
campo
towards San Lorenzo de El Escorial and the mountains of the Sierra de Guadarrama. Not that he saw any of this. His previous call had come from an old civil servant adversary, a man whom he disliked but whose views and clean thinking were easy to respect. He was now working in the
Audiencia Nacional
.

From what Isidoro understood there was a
Juez de Instrucción
called Garibey de Williams who had started an investigation into how some large companies had misused funds to pay third parties. According to his civil service colleague Garibey, though near retirement, came with a reputation for investigative zeal. In his opinion, said Isidoro's colleague, the
Jefe del Gabinete
should inform himself of what was going on because rumours coming out of the
Sala de lo Penal
, which were usually accurate to a degree that made those working there shudder, indicated that this was about more than corporate corruption and could reach beyond the companies involved and out into political, church and other circles. As a religious man his colleague had said he did not want his Catholic Church dragged through any mud.

Isidoro sat to think. His associate's principle cause for concern was the Church. Yet, if it involved politicians and even big business any issues that arose were likely to find their way onto the doorstep of Moncloa, which meant Pastor Nieves and himself. Ever since Pastor Nieves had arrived in power, a position that he clearly thought was his just desert, the subject of corruption was one he had denied. How was Isidoro to bring it sufficiently to his attention so that the prime minister would not be blind-sided if penetrating questions started to be asked?

This was his basic problem. Each time Isidoro tried raising the corruption topic Pastor Nieve's immediate response was dismissal of its possible importance.

The difficulty with this stance was if a corruption instance were to explode in the government's face, just denying and hoping that all would blow over would make the prime minister look weak and without control. If that occurred where would the 'shit' land?

He grinned in spite of his darkening mood, recalling a snippet once told to him by an English colleague – at that same Oxford conference where he had learnt about 'Manners Makyth Man'. Allegedly, according to some magazine called Private Eye, an unpopular football manager in England had been struck in the face by an outraged supporter after their team's latest loss. The magazine had asked: 'Was this the first recorded instance of the fan hitting the shit?'

He recalled the words to this day. While he had needed to have the full significance explained to him, when he understood he thought it a hilarious play with words. He still did today.

Maybe the same could happen to Pastor Nieves. No, that was not the way to make progress even though his personal satisfaction might be vast. He required a plan. This had all the potential, if his colleague was correct, to blow up in everyone's face.

He thought again. Perhaps Señor Prieto might be able to help.

Stepping out of his office, he said to his assistant, "Is Señor Prieto still here? Wonderful! That's the first good news this morning."

Wednesday: Madrid

As on Monday,
Juez
Garibey took his seat in his
Sala
. In front of him was a handsome lady, dressed in a sober pinstriped trouser suit, looking professional and feminine. Mentally he applauded her taste and the combination.

To his surprise she was alone.

"Señora Márquez? Have you decided not to retain a lawyer?"

If not it meant that he would have to be extra careful in his questioning. The Courts must not abuse those untrained in the law and its procedures and rights.