The Sentinel: 1 (Vengeance of Memory) (22 page)

Guzmán’s punch hit the priest on the temple, knocking him to the ground. Without breaking stride, Guzmán stepped over the unconscious priest and continued towards Peralta. Peralta looked up into Guzmán’s expressionless face, saw the blank eyes. Holding his stomach, Peralta rose to his feet. ‘You… you punched a priest,’ he said weakly.

Guzmán nodded. ‘Sometimes I have no sense of humour when I’m working.’ He looked round. ‘Where’s the brandy, Sarge?’

The
sargento
held out a bottle. ‘Here you go, sir, get a drop of that down you.’

‘Not me, you idiot, him.’ Guzmán nodded at Peralta. The
sargento
passed the bottle grudgingly. Peralta looked at the brandy. On the point of refusing, he suddenly grabbed the bottle and downed a mouthful, coughing as the fiery spirit burned his throat. It was almost like being sick again, only more painful. And then he vomited, sinking back to his knees to avoid spewing onto his shoes.

‘Perhaps not.’ Guzmán took the bottle from Peralta, wiping the neck with his gloved hand before taking a drink. ‘Must have been something you ate, Acting
Teniente
.’

Peralta stood up again, mopping his face with a handkerchief. Guzmán offered him a cigarette and he shook his head. Guzmán raised an eyebrow in theatrical surprise.

‘What now,
Comandante
?’ Peralta asked, his throat sore from vomiting and brandy.

‘We drive back into the city,’ Guzmán said breezily. ‘These lads can tidy up. Sarge, you know where that lot are going?’

‘
Si, mi Comandante
. We’ve got the bricklayer with us. I’ll sort it all out.’

‘
Bueno
. Make sure he seals it up properly before you leave.’

Guzmán walked to the nearest truck and shouted to Peralta to join him.

He waited as Peralta climbed into the cab and then got in, crushing the
teniente
between his bulk and the gear stick.

‘Early night for you, son,’ Guzmán said to the driver. ‘And no dirty work.’

‘
Sí, mi Comandante
,’ the driver grinned happily. ‘Early night for you too, jefe?’

‘Not at all. The
teniente
and I are off to a reception with the top brass.’

‘
Vaya vida
,’ the driver said, impressed. ‘That’s how to live, sir.’

Guzmán nodded in agreement. ‘So they say. Then after that, I’ve got a date.’

‘
Hombre
, what a night.’ The man shook his head admiringly.

‘With a decent woman, mind,’ Guzmán said. ‘I’m not paying.’

‘It just gets better,
mi Comandante
.’

Peralta hunched miserably in the oily claustrophobia of the cab, hoping he had emptied his stomach entirely by now. He had not. The ride back was as twisting and tortuous as before and Peralta had to ask the driver to stop twice. Guzmán and the driver watched Peralta kneeling by the roadside, interrupting their conversation about the price of whores to listen to his retching with amused contempt. Time passed slowly. It was after ten when the truck rattled into the road behind the
comisaría
. Guzmán jumped from the cab as Peralta headed for the stark comfort of the building.

‘Don’t spend too long with your head in the toilet,
Teniente
, we’ve a party to go to.’

Peralta’s pace quickened as he started to retch again. Guzmán let him run ahead, and strolled cheerfully after him, whistling. The driver turned off the ignition and locked the cab door, pausing to light a cigarette. His lighter spluttered and refused to light. He cursed. A man was standing in a doorway and the driver approached him for a light. The man lit the driver’s cigarette, wishing him a good evening. The driver exhaled smoke into the thin night air, idly watching the man walk up the street and turn into Calle Gallegos. The man’s footsteps died away and the empty street fell back into silence and shadow. Finishing his cigarette, the driver threw the butt away and entered the
comisaría
. The door closed behind him leaving Calle de Robles in funereal quiet. After a few minutes, the man in the black coat slowly returned to his vigil, this time walking a little further down the street before stepping into the shadow of a doorway.

BADAJOZ 1936

Around them were pine trees, their sharp, pungent needles a soft carpet beneath the men’s boots as they scrambled away from the rocky incline. Twelve still alive. One man wanted to surrender but no one else saw the sense in that. It wasn’t that the Moorish troops might kill them – they almost certainly would – it was the manner in which it would be done that prevented them giving up there and then. Montesino the corporal took charge. The Moors had to come up the same steep stony conduit they had just scrambled up, he pointed out. Only one man at a time could emerge from the narrow ravine onto the plateau. They would make a stand here: it was a good defensive position.

The men fanned out in a widely spaced line in the soft grass, feeling the fragrant pine needles give gently beneath them as they took up their firing positions. The sun was behind them and, as the Moors emerged from the jagged rocks, they would be dazzled for a few vital moments while the men lying in the dappled shade beneath the trees would be almost invisible. It was a reassuring plan and the men waited with a renewed sense of purpose, peering intently through the sights of their rifles at the entrance to the plateau.

‘Allahu Akbar.’
God is great. Excited shouts, the voices of hunters nearing the kill. The corporal lay a few metres from the kid. He looked over, smiling and making a thumbs up sign. But the kid looked at him blankly and turned back to peer down his rifle sight. The sound of boots on stone grew louder as the first Moors began to scramble up the last few metres to the grassy plateau.

MADRID 2009, CUARTEL DE LA GUARDIA CIVIL

Tali took her visitor’s badge from the officer on the desk and fastened it to her shirt pocket. Seeing Galindez’s ID, the man waved them towards the metal detector. ‘Nice to see another pretty face around here,’ he grinned. For a moment Galindez’s stomach tightened. Maybe Tali wouldn’t tolerate the constant sexism that permeated day-to-day life in the
guardia
the way she had to. The way she knew she had to: otherwise, it would be a case of
Miguel’s daughter: what a whinger
.

Tali ignored the man. Galindez was worrying for nothing.

The lift purred upwards.

‘This is exciting,’ Tali said. ‘Inside the HQ of the all powerful
guardia civil
.’

‘It’s just one big bureaucracy, believe me.’

The lift stopped at the fifth floor. It was a short walk along the corridor to the forensic department. Tali followed Galindez into her tiny office.

‘You know how to show a girl a good time, Ana,’ she laughed. ‘What is it you’re going to demonstrate? You made it sound very secret in the car.’

‘Our new database. It has all sorts of records from the years of the dictatorship. Material collected by the people working on historical memory, government departments, police and the
guardia civil
as well. It’s a big project.’

Galindez logged in. The screen changed and a database search form opened up.

‘Who goes into the database? Suspects? Criminals? Victims?’ Tali asked.

‘Everyone. All those old files will be entered into it one day. That’s the plan anyway. Details of who they were, why they were recorded and any known outcomes.’

‘What kind of outcomes?’

‘Arrested, tried, accused, sentenced – things like that. If it was recorded it goes on the database.’ Galindez reached for the keyboard. ‘What shall we start with?’

‘Guzmán, of course.’ Tali leaned forward, watching as Galindez entered his name.

‘OK. Leopoldo… G… u…’ The name appeared, the name that haunted many of the documents she’d been reading lately. The name that was starting to haunt her.

She pressed
Enter
and the database began its search. A small box appeared at the top of the screen:
Espera Por Favor
. The computer suddenly displayed a list of names.

‘All Guzmáns?’ Tali peered at the screen.

‘He’s here,’ Galindez moved the mouse, selecting a name five lines down. ‘Leopoldo Guzmán,
Capitán
. That’s his date of birth, 4 April 1920.’

‘
Capitán
in what?’ Tali strained to see the screen. ‘Army?
Guardia
?’

‘Army – this is from a payroll document dated 1943.
Hostia
, Tali,
Capitán
at twenty-three? He did something right.’

‘We already have some of those documents at the university,’ Tali said. ‘They only tell us he was paid, nothing more.’

‘True. None of these other matches relate to him either.’

‘Try just his surname,’ Tali suggested. ‘Maybe he had aliases?’

‘Just “Guzmán”? OK.’ Galindez typed the letters again. Nothing happened. ‘I could try including a date,’ she said. ‘Maybe the information links to events rather than people.’

‘Go ahead, Ana.’

Galindez thought back to her visit to Las Peñas. ‘They said the mine where we found those bodies closed in the early fifties: let’s try “Guzmán1950”.’ Nothing happened. ‘OK, I’ll try the next few years.’ The first two years didn’t produce a result either. Her fingers rattled across the keyboard again. ‘Guzmán1953’.

The screen exploded into a vivid red with a flashing message at the centre:

**UNAUTHORISED ATTEMPT TO ACCESS

RESTRICTED MATERIAL**

ACCESS DENIED

‘What the…’ Galindez hit the escape key. Nothing happened. The screen continued to flash.

‘Why is it doing that?’ Tali asked.

Before Galindez could answer, the phone buzzed. It was Mendez from Technical Services.

Tali listened to Galindez’s conversation with Mendez, watching her expression change as they talked. ‘What’s up, Ana?’ she asked as Galindez hung up.

‘Apparently “Guzmán1953” is a password for some highly classified material. It needs a higher level security clearance than mine. Attempting unauthorised access looks bad, and the system records who did it. I don’t know what happens then. Probably a bollocking.’

‘Can’t you just tell them what you were doing? You don’t want your bosses thinking you were up to no good.’

‘I certainly don’t. That’s why it’s good Mendez was monitoring the system today.’

‘Who is this Mendez?’

‘An admirer.’ Galindez smiled. ‘And because of that, I can get help from technical services that would be difficult to arrange otherwise.’

Tali raised her eyebrows in mock outrage. ‘You little tease, Ana. Stringing the poor guy along like that. Is that what you’re like? All talk and no action?’

‘Do you want to find out?’ Galindez said in a low voice.

Tali shook her head. ‘Not here.’ She turned back to the computer screen. ‘Do you think this Mendez can do anything to keep you out of trouble?’

‘Yes. Mendez is a real technical wizard.’

‘He’s worth knowing then – just don’t go breaking his heart, will you?’

‘I promise,’ Galindez said. ‘Shall we get some lunch?’

‘All right. And then there’s somewhere I’d like to take you. It’s related to Guzmán.’

‘Really? I’m game. Where are we going?’

‘The Almudena cemetery.’

MADRID 2009, CEMENTARIO DE ALMUDENA

Tali edged the car out of the car park, slowing to pass groups of wilting students, all with the same torpid air of uninterest, clinging to the shadows of trees and buildings as they languidly negotiated their various routes beneath the scorching sun.

‘I think you’ll find this interesting,’ Tali said. ‘It will give you an idea of the things Guzmán was involved in.’

‘I’m intrigued,’ Galindez said.

‘During the meeting, I sensed you’d got the Guzmán bug,’ Tali said. ‘You have, haven’t you? Everywhere we look, Guzmán crops up – yet we know so little about him.’

‘It’s funny,’ Galindez said, ‘I never had any interest in the Civil War before. Trying to track down Guzmán has made things I only knew from history lessons start to feel a lot closer.’

Tali slowed at a crossroads, waiting for a lull in the traffic. ‘So much of what Guzmán and his unit did has been kept secret for too long. It’s time for everything to come out in the open.’

Traffic was heavy and the entire world seemed in an evil mood. Cars bounced to a halt, braking suddenly, arms waving from windows, a constant blaring of horns, flurries of obscenities. Galindez sneaked a glance at Tali. Expensive clothes, arms tight with toned muscles: time well spent in the gym, her legs tanned and sleek.

‘So you’re in a relationship with Luisa?’ Tali asked, breaking the spell.

‘I was,’ Galindez said, reluctantly. ‘It didn’t work out. I’m not good at relationships.’

Tali turned to look her, her hair a sudden cascade of gold in the bright sunlight. ‘
Mujer
, I doubt it was your fault. She’s not the easiest of people to get on with.’

‘No,’ Galindez said angrily, ‘she’s not discreet either. I broke up with her because I didn’t want it to look as if I was only involved in the investigation because I was her girlfriend.’

‘
Tranquila
, I was only saying.’ Tali held up a hand in supplication.

‘Sorry, it’s just…’

‘
No te preocupes
. I know what Luisa’s like from past experience. Didn’t you notice how she behaved with me at the meeting?’

‘I could hardly miss it.’

The car turned a corner and passed through the gates of the Almudena Cemetery. Slowing, Tali pulled into a vacant parking space. ‘Just be careful with Luisa, she doesn’t do rejection. I’d keep it quiet if you start seeing anyone else while you’re working with her, that is.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

Galindez’s damp shirt clung to the hot plastic seat as she climbed from the car. The whole city was baking, the air shimmered above the huge cemetery, distorting the distant skyline of the city.