The Columbus Code (14 page)

Maria walked from the hotel to the Catalonia Financial campus the next morning, a brisk ten-block trek. She'd been up most of the night and neither the coffee nor a four-mile run cleared her head enough to face what she had to do.

Around her the city bustled as produce appeared in bins on the sidewalks and the usual tempting aromas wafted from the cafés. She liked it here, and yet there was something—a feeling—as if what
Abuela
used to call “no-see-ums” were pressed into the shadows, lying in wait.

Maria shook out her hair and stood up straight. That was just lack of sleep. And the conclusion she had come to after studying Snowden's notes last night with a magnifying glass she'd borrowed from the concierge. She'd managed to get it out of him without having to promise to have a drink with him.

Her phone rang in the depths of her briefcase and she stopped at a sidewalk bench to fish it out. She caught Elena's call just before it cut to voice mail.

“Morning,” she said, voice bright as usual. “I got your text. You still want to meet at El Magnifico?”

“Actually I changed my mind,” Maria said. “I'm on a bench about
a block from Catalonia, on Fontanella. Why don't you bring coffee here?”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. I just want to discuss something with you and I feel like those walls have ears.”

“They do,” Elena said. “Didn't I tell you?”

While she waited, Maria took Snowden's notes out of her briefcase and scanned them once more. Even without the magnifying glass, Maria had noticed something late last night. The date at the top was the same as the day of their first meeting with Belgium Continental, the day she'd arrived. How could Snowden have written that the acquisition was a done deal when they'd only started the real negotiations that day?

The notes had to be about something other than Belgium Continental.

That in itself wasn't such a big deal. Gump, Snowden and Meir represented all of Catalonia's dealings and Snowden was involved in most of them. The veiled references in the notes could refer to anything, not necessarily the Belgium Continental transaction. But why would Snowden take notes if he wasn't trying to be specific? It wasn't like him to write down things he could just throw at her on his way out of the office for after-work drinks.

Maria looked across Fontanella. No sign of Elena yet. Either there was a long line at the café or the girl had cut and run. Maria had no reason to think she would, except for what the study with the magnifying glass had revealed. With some bright light and magnification the erasures were clear.

The original words were replaced with new ones. The less-condemning ones. And in Snowden's handwriting. Or someone who knew how to imitate it well enough to fool her.

It wasn't Snowden who did it. He was looking for the notes, Maria was convinced of that. He had never intended for her to get them in the first place.

Only one person knew Maria had them. Only one person knew she'd questioned them. Watching that person approach, coffees in hand, Maria resolved to find out why and what that could mean.

“Here you go—two creams, no sugars.” Elena handed a cardboard-sleeved paper cup to Maria and sat on the bench next to her. “I like the way you eat and I like the way you drink coffee. Most Americans bring their latte habit with them.”

“Does Molina hire assistants for all Americans who come here?” Maria said.

“That was an interesting segue.”

“He did hire you, though.”

“Yes, he did.”

“To do what?”

Maria hadn't meant for it to come out so much like an accusation, She was reminding herself of her father.

Elena looked bee-stung.

“I'm sorry,” Maria said. “I'm confused and I don't do well when I feel out of control. Let me start over.” She set the coffee on the ground beside the bench. “Were you really hired by
Señor
Tejada to be my assistant, or to keep tabs on me?”

“Keep tabs on you?” Elena's eyes filled with tears and her voice quivered. “Why would he do that? Why would you think that?”

“I just want you to be straight with me.”

Elena looked as if she wanted to run.

“Are you afraid of somebody?” Maria asked, pressing the point.

“
Señor
Tejada didn't hire me,” Elena replied. “He doesn't even
know me or anything about me. He probably thinks Mr. Snowden hired me.”

“Look, I know Molina is the one who actually gave you the job, but I'm sure Tejada told him to do it.”

“No,” Elena said, shaking her head. “I'm just as certain he didn't.”

“Why?”

“Because Molina is blackmailing me.”

The words came out so softly Maria almost missed them. “
Blackmailing?”
she whispered.

Elena's eyes darted from side to side, checking suspiciously. Maria took her by the hand. “Come on,” she said, “let's walk. Pretend we're talking about guys or something.”

Elena looked bewildered, but Maria pulled her up and slipped her arm through Elena's. She grabbed her briefcase with the other hand and tugged at Elena to get moving.

“Your coffee,” Elena protested. The cup still sat on the bench.

“Forget about it. Talk to me.”

Elena waited while two men in shiny silk suits passed them, then she began. “I don't know what to do. He hired me—”

“Molina.”

“Yes. He hired me to watch your work and tell him if you came across anything ‘unusual.'”

“He didn't tell you what to look for?”

“No. He just said to get close enough to you that you would tell me about any
aberraciones
. Aberrations.”

Maria stiffened. “How would you know what you saw was an aberration if he didn't tell you what he was looking for?”

“Look,” Elena said. “I didn't try to become your friend because of that. All right”—she shrugged—“maybe I did at first, but the more
we worked and did things together, the more I respected you and I didn't want to do what Molina said. I didn't think I had to really worry about it. Everything was going so smoothly and nothing came up that looked suspicious to me.”

“Until I found that information in Snowden's notes and started asking questions.” Maria still didn't know whether to trust Elena now, but she needed to learn as much as she could before they reached the office. She gave Elena a nudge. “Laugh.”

“What?”

“Pretend you're laughing. It can't look like you're telling me this.”

“You think he's watching?”

“You think he's not? Laugh,” Maria insisted once more. Elena broke into a phony guffaw and they both giggled. “So, what happened when I asked you about Snowden's notes?” Maria said. “What did you do?”

Elena started to cry and Maria pulled her closer. “You can't break down,” Maria said. “Keep smiling.”

Elena didn't smile, but she took a deep breath and choked back the tears. “I went to the filing cabinet and got the notes. I was going to take them to Molina, but I couldn't.” She glanced over at Maria. “Honestly, after all we'd done together and the friendship we've developed, I couldn't bring myself to do it.”

“Why?” Maria said. “I wouldn't be the one in trouble. We didn't even know if anyone had done anything wrong.”

Elena bit at her lip.

“Elena, what is it?”

“I don't want you mixed up with Molina,” she said. “If he can blackmail me, he could threaten you too. He will do anything to protect Tejada's integrity.”

“Again, what did you do with the notes?”

“I changed them,” Elena whispered. “I thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn't, was it?”

“Don't consider a career in espionage,” Maria said, in her dry, humorous voice. “All it took was a magnifying glass and a forty-watt bulb and I had it figured out. What I don't get was how you matched Snowden's handwriting exactly.”

“I looked at his other notes.”

“Girl of many talents.”

Elena stopped abruptly and looked over at Maria. “Please don't doubt me,” she said. “I took a big chance not telling Molina.”

Maria looked around and spotted the El Corte Inglés, a department store. She pried Elena's fingers from her arm and took her by the hand. “In there,” she said, pointing.

Elena's palm was tacky, her face sheet-white, as she let Maria lead her into the store and straight to the ladies' room. “They don't like you to use their facilities without making a purchase,” Elena said.

“Don't worry, I'll buy something.”

Maria checked all the stalls and turned to face Elena. “What does he have on you?”

Elena's face crumpled again and she began to cry. “Talk to me,” Maria insisted. “Before someone comes in here. I may be able to help you. I'm a lawyer, remember?”

Mascara, eyeliner, and eye shadow had turned to a murky mix that now trailed down Elena's face. Maria reached for a paper towel. “You talk,” she said. “I'll wipe.”

Elena closed her eyes, as if somehow what she had to say to Maria would be easier if she couldn't see her. “I'm here illegally.”

“I thought you were a Spanish national.”

“I am. But when I was in the United States, I . . . got into some trouble.”

“Legal trouble?”

“Yes.”

“So we'll fix it.” Maria replied. “I won't even charge you. What happened?”

“You can't fix this.”

“I'm a Harvard graduate,” Maria quipped. “I can fix it. What happened?”

“I killed someone.”

Maria stopped mid-wipe. “You killed someone?”

“It was an accident, but even my lawyer said my chances of going free were practically nada.”

“Then he wasn't worth the money you were paying him.”

“I wasn't paying him. He was appointed by the court. I don't think he believed me.”

“It shouldn't have mattered. So what did you do—you ran?”

“I knew someone who knew someone who could get me out of the States and back here. I gave them all the money I had saved for college. They gave me a whole new identity.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

Elena stared down at the floor. Maria took a step back, towel still in hand.

“How did you end up with him?” she said.

“Molina?”

“Yeah.”

“I gave them everything I had and I thought I was free when I got back. I'm from Madrid but I didn't want to live there where everyone
knew who I really was. So I came here, to Barcelona. The city was all new to me and I didn't know anyone, but I got a job as a server at Botafumeiro and an apartment with some other girls who worked at the restaurant. I was starting to save for university again.” Her eyes clouded. “And then Carlos Molina walked into the restaurant and took it all away.”

“How did he even know about you?”

“Because he knows everything.”

“How did he know about you?”

“I don't know, but he made it clear that if I didn't do what he said he would notify the authorities and I would be sent back to the United States.”

“And nothing says ‘guilty' like fleeing the country.” Maria took Elena's chin in her hand and gently tilted up her head. “Has Molina made you do anything else besides spy?”

“No. If it had been prostitution or drugs or something, I would have killed myself rather than do it.”

Elena's voice was so vehement, Maria believed her.

“Just keeping an eye on people who come here to work on special projects didn't seem so bad. Until you came.” Her voice broke.

The attorney in Maria told her to get proof, not to assume Elena's innocence in this until she had more than just her word. But the woman in her told her she couldn't let this poor girl look over her shoulder for the rest of her life, working for a weasel like Carlos Molina.

“Okay, listen,” Maria said. “This acquisition shouldn't take more than another week, if that long, and we'll be returning to the States. Just keep doing what you're doing. We'll act as if nothing happened. But if you want . . . I'll get things moving for you to leave with us. I'll hire an attorney for you—several of my friends from law school work
for firms specializing in criminal cases, accidental homicide, all that.” Maria squeezed her hands again. “You're in prison here and the only way out of it is to go back and work through the process.”

Elena didn't say no. But she didn't nod either. A storm of indecision and shame and guilt raged in her eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” Elena said.

“Because I have to.” Maria reached into her briefcase and pulled out her phone to check the time. “We are so late. Okay—here's the plan. I'm going to rush into work like I overslept and I'll tell anybody who asks that I sent you out for coffee.” She dug in her pocket, pulled out a wad of euros, and peeled off several. “Do the coffee thing again and bring it in—
after
you reapply your makeup and
after
you settle down enough to look at people without crying.”

Elena's eyes started to fill again.

“See what I mean?” Maria gestured with her hand. “I know once you get started it's hard to turn it off, but give it your best shot. You can't go in there looking like this. Tejada and everyone else will notice.” Maria picked up her briefcase and put her hand lightly on Elena's damp cheek. “We'll get through this. You aren't alone. Okay?”

“I'll be all right,” Elena whimpered. “Maria—how can I thank you?”

“By getting me a coffee. And one of those Magdelenas muffins. See you at the office.”

She gave Elena's hand one more squeeze and hurried from the restroom. The proprietor's chilly gaze greeted her so she grabbed a scarf from the rack and tossed the rest of the wad of euros on the counter. “Keep the change,” she said.