Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (35 page)

"If I ask you to do it for me, can you?"

"Of course. Or Pedro could do it under my supervision?"

"That's an excellent suggestion. Okay. So, Pedro, what happens if Señora Certaldo's suspicions are proved correct? Do I ask him why he's using stolen goods in my court when they represent a key part of the evidence you originally had?"

"That's not a bad start,
Señoría
. But, no, I'd prefer you questioned him more about where he obtained the laptop. He is a legal officer."

"Agreed. I think the initial questioning has to be spot on. If he has a convincing answer, we must accept it, albeit with the caveat that it must be confirmed. I foresee complications. Not acting now may lose us an opportunity. Tricky."

Juez
Garibey considered. Glancing at his watch, he announced that it was time to head back.

A couple of minutes later he re-entered his
Sala
. Superficially all was as before, except now there was an uncertain nervousness in the atmosphere.

Looking around,
Juez
Garibey saw that Márquez was far from at ease. Gómez appeared concerned about his client more than anything else. Pedro, Caterina and Emilia, for different reasons, were on edge.

Juez
Garibey had experienced this in similar situations before. Everyone was focused on him. He loved it. He knew he'd miss this after retiring. Being the centre of attention was pleasurable. He let the tension rise by not saying or doing anything.

Eventually he turned to the table before him and said, "Señor Gómez. I would like to ask you a question that may not seem immediately relevant. You have a laptop in front of you. Could you tell me what sort of ..." –
Juez
Garibey checked the paper in front of him – "Graphics Processing Unit it has inside."

Alfredo was stunned. This wasn't what he expected. "I – I h-haven't a clue! I'm not even sure how to find out or even what a graphics whatever-it-is does."

"A Graphics Processor Unit, or GPU for short," responded
Juez
Garibey, pleased that he could show off, not that he had a clue either but he was not going to admit it. "It accelerates image processing."

Before Alfredo could react or do something meaningful,
Juez
Garibey beckoned Pedro forwards. After formally identifying Pedro to Alfredo he invited Alfredo to bring his laptop to his table.

Simultaneously Pedro signalled to Caterina to come forward. She turned the laptop over, pointing to the red dashes on the side that Emilia had described. Pedro and
Juez
Garibey took note.

Caterina addressed Alfredo: "May I restart the system?"

With a sickening feeling Alfredo assented as confidently as he could and despite having heard the Australian-accented Spanish.

To Caterina's surprise the laptop rebooted to a different operating system to what she had bought. As it was adequately familiar, though not one she used often, she was able to bring up a screen listing the hardware configuration. Without saying more Caterina pointed to the CPU and GPU details she had written down earlier.

Juez
Garibey compared these to what he had before him. They matched, though he was no longer surprised. He invited Alfredo, Pedro and Caterina to return to their respective places.

"Señor Gómez, may I ask how you came to possess this laptop?"

"I bought it second-hand,
Señoría
. Why is this relevant and to what?"

"Patience, Señor. Where did you buy it? You have a receipt?"

"No. I found it recently in the
rastro
. It was so good-looking that I couldn't resist."

This was the type of answer that
Juez
Garibey and Pedro feared. It would be hard to disprove.

"Do you realise this is stolen property?"

"Of course it isn't. I bought it legally."

"So you can tell us from whom you bought it?"

"Ah, no. As said, it was off a
rastro
stall. I remember that the stall was close to the entrance to the market near the La Latina Metro station. I did not ask further. It seemed like a bargain."

"I see. I am advised that this model has two specific identifying features, both of which confirm that it was originally sold new only in Australia. I must inform you that it was stolen a few weeks ago. Are you aware of this?"

"No. How could I be?"

"A good question. Nevertheless, I must ask the CNP to take possession of it. Is there anything on it that might be regarded as client confidential?"

"No. As a matter of policy my firm keeps all client-confidential material off laptops that leave our offices. This must be on encrypted memory sticks. If I remove this," which he did, "there will be no client-confidential material on the laptop."

Alfredo metaphorically kicked himself. He should have said, "Yes, there was client information on it." If he had the laptop would be covered by lawyer/client privilege. Another mistake. It was too late now.

"Excellent. I will take possession of it for as long as my investigation lasts. When complete it will be returned to you, unless we confirm it's stolen property required as evidence.

"Let's adjourn for lunch and resume in a couple of hours to continue with Señora Márquez."

Thursday: Isidoro

Isidoro received a second call from his erstwhile colleague now working in the
Audiencia
Nacional.

The voice at the other end of the phone was quietly filled with malevolence: "Did I not warn you to ensure that nothing happened to involve the Church?"

"Yes, but you'll recall that I cannot give definitive assurances. I don't have that sort of power. Not even
el
Presidente del Gobierno
has, as you well know. Why? Has something happened?"

"What? You don't know? Are you people in Moncloa so utterly cut off from real-life matters?"

"We try hard not to be. You cannot, however, expect us to monitor all matters in all courts. There'll always be dirt to fall on someone's unsuspecting shoulders."

"Too true, and I do have a modicum of sympathy." The voice hardened again. "I told you explicitly that Garibey de Williams was digging anew in pastures where nobody should cut grass."

"Forget the agricultural analogies. Help me. What's changed?"

"Yesterday Garibey was questioning a lady called Marta Márquez about dubious transactions relating to three companies called ServiArquitectos, Constructores Equilibris and MMH. You will recognise them."

Isidoro Silvestre mentally agreed without saying anything. He did not have the opportunity to respond, even had he wanted to, for the disembodied voice relentlessly continued.

"What everyone presumed was a routine testimony turned sour when Garibey virtually accused a lawyer who you may have heard of, called Alfredo Gómez, of possessing a stolen laptop. That caused one wave of discomfort. After an adjournment Garibey pursued another line of questioning, apparently related to the laptop, but in no way that anyone present could work out. Next Garibey asked Márquez about a payment made by ServiArquitectos to El Cerámico."

"There's nothing wrong there."

But Isidoro's heart was sinking. He knew that
el
Presidente
wanted to appoint Gómez as an ambassador. If Gómez was going to become involved in the courts there could be no such appointment until all was resolved. That at least was standard etiquette. Except that Isidoro had the unpleasant feeling
el
Presidente
would insist on continuing, on the basis that Gómez was innocent until proven guilty. This promised to be another political mess poised to breed.

As he was thinking through that set of implications, the voice on the phone continued: "It seems that a payment made to El Cerámico was passed onto Márquez, who paid it to the office of our now dead but rarely lamented Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo, His Eminence Cardinal Archbishop Adrian."

"There's nothing wrong there either, is there?"

To Isidoro's own ears he sounded weak and probably too defensive.

"That's the question which remains unresolved. If my source is correct, Garibey has circumstantial evidence that the payment was returned to Señora Márquez the next day but paid out again the same day it arrived back in her account – only this time in cash. From Garibey's subsequent questioning it appears that Márquez was some sort of financial agent working on behalf of several Spanish organisations to make payments to facilitate favourable decisions or simply to buy off people. What I'm concerned about is not the generalities but the specifics relating to the Church. Garibey must be stopped before he harms the Church. This is what I tried telling you last time. You did nothing."

Isidoro played for time. In truth he did not know how to reassure, especially if a
Juez de Instrucción
had the bit between his teeth. He recalled, with some barbed amusement, a past
Juez de Instrucción
who had over-reached himself by trying to arrange for no lesser person than
el Generalísimo
, Franco himself, to be dug up and prosecuted for crimes against humanity. While Isidoro had been entertained at the legal originality of the probe, it was seen as an outrage by the right. That particular
Juez de Instrucción
found himself appointed abroad – out of sight and mind. This, on the other hand, did not sound like the same thing. It was too mundane.

When asked again what he was going to do, Isidoro could only say, "I really don't know. I need to discover more. But as before, please don't think that Moncloa can interfere with the due processes of law."

"You must protect the Church. It matters more than any transient politician or even the monarchy. It's been around for much longer than either of those. The Church is a fundamental bulwark of our national fabric. You must find a way to act."

"I'll do my best," said Isidoro, not believing a word – and pretty certain that his colleague knew he thought so.

On the other hand, anything that involved the Church was dynamite. The current appointee, that grasping curmudgeon in Isidoro's opinion, was ever prepared to bring down hell, fire and damnation on anyone who raised the tiniest doubt about his darling institution. It did not matter whether it was child-molesting priests or incompetent business priests who had no place in a local savings society or simply crooked priests. None could be guilty in the eyes of the current incumbent Cardinal Archbishop. Isidoro groaned at the thought of what this might entail.

"One other piece of information for you is Luis Zavala, also known as El Cerámico, has been cited for tomorrow. He's an old man now and not known for his religiosity. Rather the reverse. I hope he doesn't cause more damage. You have lots to unravel."

Isidoro was relieved when the call finished. Now it was action time, if only to discover whether he was being sold a pup. He had the sensation of a man on a boat in weather turning rough who knew he was prone to being badly seasick.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Scene Sets

Friday: Madrid

Alfredo and Marta met for breakfast. Both looked strained. The past days in the
Sala
had been difficult. Of the two, Alfredo was more upbeat.

"I don't think we need worry, Marta. I know that we've yet to escape the eye of
Juez
Garibey. For sure he's not releasing us yet. But think ... Every time he's tried to go down one particular avenue of enquiry it's petered out. It doesn't matter whether it was about the laptop or the ORS transactions. Each time we've successfully deflected his line of enquiry."

"Alfredo, I have to ask: was that laptop stolen or did you really buy it at the
rastro
?"

"Better not. What you don't know you can't say. But that doesn't matter now. If there was a way to associate it with the Australian, Garibey would've done so to sink me. His decision not to do so confirms to me that he can't. Yes, there's the so-called evidence about the special processor but that's circumstantial. It does not mean a similar machine couldn't make its way from Australia to be lost in Madrid by an Aussie tourist. Unlikely, yes. Definitive, no."

"In addition, it's wholly reasonable that I bought the machine from the
rastro
with no receipt. Have you been to Madrid's
rastro
? No? Well, these days you can buy almost anything there, from horrifically expensive antiques – or more likely pseudo-antiques – through to ancient house contents, to technology of all eras. Quite simply, if Garibey's unable to prove that the laptop belonged to the Australian, he's stuck. Combine this with my acquiring it at the
rastro
and he hasn't a leg to stand on.