The Sentinel: 1 (Vengeance of Memory) (31 page)

‘All set?’ Tali asked.

‘
Vamos
. Calle de Robles and step on it, my good woman.’ Galindez smiled.

‘You’re in a good mood – considering.’ Tali adjusted the mirror with considered precision before touching the St Christopher medal on the dashboard and then crossing herself and kissing her fingers. She sensed Galindez watching her. ‘What?’

‘Just observing your little ritual. It’s cute.’

‘Cute? It’s prudent. You want to get there safely, don’t you?’

‘I trust your driving more than any ritual,’ Galindez said.

Tali slowed as the car reached the main road. Traffic rolled past in an unbroken and unyielding line; no one remotely inclined to give way. She drummed her fingers on the wheel. ‘I can do cute.’ She launched the car into the gap left by a faster than average motorist. The driver behind her slammed on his brakes, loosing off an angry blast of disapproval with his horn.

‘
Jesús Cristo
,’ Galindez muttered. ‘I only hope that ritual works.’

‘Calle de Robles. Follow the M-30 and past the Planetarium,
verdad?
’

‘
Exactamente
. Park in the first space you see. Those narrow streets are always full.’

‘See, you’re the sensible one, Ana María,’ Tali said. ‘I’m just cute.’

Appalling traffic, a slow procession of ill-tempered, overheated humanity. Drivers’ arms hung from their windows, hands beating an impatient tempo on the hot metal; tempers on a hair trigger, sudden raging explosions of horns at every junction, screams of abuse at those perceived to be impeding the already funereal pace of the traffic. An hour passed. Galindez felt her shirt sticking to the seat. Tali seemed as cool and composed as she had been when they set off.

The sky turned darker. A distant murmur of thunder. Tali passed Galindez a bottle of water. The water tasted of warm plastic.

‘You and Luisa seem to be getting on now,’ Tali said, ‘apart from the theoretical sparring.’

‘She’s been pretty good about us splitting up,’ Galindez said. ‘She even gave me a pair of ear studs as a break-up gift – they’re lovely – look.’ She held back her hair to let Tali see the small onyx studs. The car veered sideways and Tali reluctantly turned her attention back to the road, prompted by a chorus of blaring horns.

‘Know what?’ Galindez said. ‘Luisa and I will never agree on the best way to write about Guzmán. Science versus hermeneutics, as she says.’

‘She says it a bit too often for my liking.’ Tali smiled. ‘Even so, do you think there’s any chance of a truce so Toni and I don’t get too bored waiting for your arguments to end?’

‘We do get carried away. But it’s her fault. The idea was to approach this investigation from different angles. She’d do her textual thing while I tried to connect Guzmán to some of the killings after the war using more conventional methods. Instead, she insists on criticising my methods at every opportunity.’ Galindez looked up, suddenly realising where they were. ‘
Mira
, that’s Calle de Robles over there on the right – see the
farmacia
on the corner?’

Tali twisted the wheel and the tyres squealed as she cut across two lines of traffic, pulling in to the kerb and braking sharply, bringing them to a noisy halt. She turned to Galindez, self-conscious at her sudden recklessness. ‘Sorry, Ana, did I scare you?’

‘
Joder
. You terrified me. Do you always drive like this?’

‘Pretty much.’ Tali turned off the engine.

Galindez looked at her. ‘It’s funny, you don’t look like the terror of the roads,
Señorita
Castillo. A case of still waters, I’d say.’

‘It’s always the quiet ones, Ana María.’ Tali smiled.

‘You can say that again. That’s why I’m in such a good mood despite being black and blue.’ Galindez slid across the seat. ‘I mean, sending me that photograph.
Hostia
, it really got me steamed up.’ She squeezed Tali’s leg. ‘Not that I’m complaining.’

Tali looked blankly at her. ‘What photograph?’

‘You know very well. It came in today’s post just after you went to get the car. You must have known the effect it would have on me when I opened it.’

‘Not really, Ana, because I didn’t send you a photograph.’

‘
Verdad
? What’s this then?’ Galindez pulled the manila envelope from her bag.

Tali looked at the handwritten label on the envelope. ‘That’s not my handwriting.’ She slid a black and white print from the envelope and stared at the photograph. It was her. Under the shower, hands raised as she washed her hair. Definitely her. Her face captured in exquisitely sharp detail. Everything was.

‘But…’ Tali fumbled for words, her face pale. ‘
Dios mio
, Ana, I wouldn’t let anyone take a photo of me naked. Is there a message?’

Galindez turned the photograph and examined the back. Nothing. She examined the envelope, turning it upside down. A small white card fell onto her lap. ‘
Mierda
. I never even checked the envelope. I was so sure it was from you.’

Tali picked up the card and stared at the written message. Her hand began to shake. ‘
Hostia
.’

Galindez took the card from her and read it:

I said I wanted to see them – Sancho
.

‘That bastard.’ Galindez was flushed with anger. ‘He must have planted a camera in your flat.’ She chewed her lip. ‘Another attempt to scare us.’

‘In that case, it’s worked.’

‘I’m sure I’m right that he wants to stop us searching for Guzmán.
Dios mio
, Guzmán’s still dangerous even after all these years.’

‘That’s great news, Ana María. Just as we’re about to go into his
comisaría
.’

‘We’ll be fine.’ Galindez got out of the car and carefully slung the bag holding her equipment over her aching shoulder. Across the main road, beyond the slow lines of traffic blurred by exhaust fumes, was the green cross of the
farmacia
. The building stood on the corner of a small, narrow street, high buildings on either side, their detail lost in shadow.

Crossing the choked main road was an exercise in risk-taking. Grabbing Tali’s hand, Galindez dashed forward, darting across the lanes of traffic, pursued by the monstrous hooting of a refrigerated truck as it thundered past. They stopped to catch their breath on the corner by the
farmacia
. Galindez looked up and read the sign on the wall above the shop. ‘Calle de Robles.’

The thunder was getting closer. High walls rose steeply around them. A few shops, a grocery, a fishmonger, a shop selling wool. ‘Do people still knit?’ Tali wondered. Probably not, since the shop appeared to have been closed for years, judging by the fashions on the faded knitting patterns, some time in the seventies. The windows were obscured by dust and the yellow cellophane sunscreen was pulled down inside. Pictures on the knitting patterns were almost bleached away; the shop a sort of desiccated relic.

Further along, the narrow road was bisected by another, much narrower street. To their right, an old building, a school or a seminary perhaps. Beyond that, a large church, strikingly unattractive, almost threatening, its sharp, uneven profile accentuated by dark, angular statues.

‘
Mira
.’ Tali pointed to the old building on the corner. Its great wooden doors were like those of a church and the bars on its windows seemed far thicker and more imposing than necessary. A sign above the door, in faded paint,
Policía Nacional
. A more recent sign pasted to the door:
Permanently Closed
.

‘This is it,’ Galindez said quietly.

‘Hope so,’ Tali said, producing a large key from her bag. ‘I’d hate to think there were more like this. It’s so ugly.’

‘Is there a caretaker?’

‘No.’ Tali handed Galindez the key. ‘We’re on our own in there. And you know what? I can’t believe it but I’m afraid of a building.’

The storm was almost above them now, the sky an ominous quilt of black cloud. Rumbling echoes shimmered along the cobbled street.

‘A building can’t hurt you.’ Galindez put the key into the lock. The rusty metal protested loudly as she turned the key.

The door swung open. The air felt cold after the oppressive humidity of the street. Their eyes were not yet accustomed to the sudden change from the summer light and they stood hesitantly in the marble-floored vestibule, its dark panelled walls leading into darkness.

Galindez found an old light switch and pressed it. Weak lights flickered into life. ‘
Mierda
. It’s like
la Familia Addams
,’ she muttered.

A skeletal light vaguely illuminated the empty hallway. On their left, a wooden bench against the wall beneath a faded map of Madrid. At the far end of the hall, a small reception desk. Old, empty shelves, pigeon-holes for mail. Just an everyday office.
Except they tortured and killed people here
, Galindez thought. Behind the desk were glass-panelled office doors. To the right a set of wooden double doors. From the hand-drawn plan Toni had given her, Galindez knew those doors opened onto the corridor leading to the
comandante’s
office and, ultimately, to the cells.

‘What did Luisa say this building was before it was a police station?’ Tali asked.

‘A convent. Destroyed on the orders of the Inquisition. They built a seminary in the eighteenth century on top of the ruins.’

‘Why would they destroy a convent?’

‘Corruption, apparently.’

‘What, the nuns were taking bribes?’

‘No, moral corruption. They were all burned at the stake.’

‘They did that outside, surely?’

‘I hope so.’ Galindez pulled out the plan and flattened it out on the dusty counter of the reception desk. ‘
Vamos a ver
.’ The electric lights above gave off an absurdly weak light, smearing the plan with shadow.

Tali looked around nervously. Again.

‘Come on, Tali. We may never get this place to ourselves after today,’ Galindez said.

‘That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?’

‘You can’t be that scared? We’d be crazy not to check it out now.’

The building reverberated as the storm outside intensified. Tali walked to the double doors and opened them. The corridor beyond was pitch-black and there was a strong smell of damp. Galindez moved the flashlight beam over the wall to help Tali find the switch. And then pale light twinkled unsteadily from a line of small bulbs in the ceiling.

‘
Me cago en Dios
,’ Tali whispered.

The corridor was some three metres wide and maybe two metres high. The floors were old stone, much older than the material used to construct the walls. There were a few more recent interventions here and there: light switches, patches of cement, a noticeboard. But those things had a dusty, dated quality, looking less like alterations than tentative additions the building had begun to reject. The corridor was cold and uninviting, Galindez thought, a strange place for what she wanted to say. But she felt safe here with no risk of being overheard or interrupted.

‘Tali, I know it’s probably the wrong time, but there’s something I want to tell you.’

It wasn’t easy. Galindez had never said this to anyone in her adult life. Had never wanted to and had never been able to. There hadn’t been a right time with anyone else. But she’d not imagined the right time would be in the cold darkened corridor of an abandoned torture chamber with dust and cobwebs flickering in the pale beam of the flashlight and rolling angry thunder overhead.
But that’s me
, Galindez thought,
when something has to be said, I have to say it
.

Tali shook her head. ‘This isn’t the place. Nothing good ever happened here. You can feel it. There’s no room for love in this building. Let’s finish the search and go.’

Galindez swallowed her disappointment.
I should have kept my mouth shut. What was I thinking of
?

‘Look, Ana,’ Tali said, ‘things feel right when we’re together. Leave it at that for now?’

‘Sure,’ Galindez said, grateful for the shadows hiding her disappointment.

They continued along the dim passageway. The flashlight shone on a door to their left, a few metres ahead. Galindez looked at the plan. ‘That’s it. Guzmán’s office.’

A very ordinary door, Galindez thought, dark wood, with a large rusty lock. She noticed her hand was slick with sweat as she gripped the handle.

‘What if it’s locked?’ Tali said, echoing Galindez’s own concern.

The handle turned easily and the door opened.

Galindez fumbled for the light switch. A single electric bulb set in a khaki metal shade threw cadaverous light across a disappointingly bare room, empty except for a plain wooden desk.

‘I don’t like it.’ Tali grimaced. ‘I can imagine him here.’

‘He’s not here now though, is he? Let’s check his desk.’

Galindez opened a drawer. It was lined with yellowing newspaper but otherwise was quite empty. Galindez picked up the newspaper and smoothed it on the desktop. ‘
ABC
. I’d expect Guzmán to read a right-wing paper.’

Tali examined the front page. ‘Wednesday, June eighteenth, 1986.’

‘What’s the headline?’ Galindez asked.

The front page was dominated by a black and white photograph of a bullet-riddled car, its front door wide open, the driver slumped across the seat, one arm still on the steering wheel. The vague shape of another body was just visible on the back seat.

‘ETA Provocation,’ Tali read. ‘
Teniente Coronel
Carlos Vesteiro Pérez,
Comandante
Ricardo Sáenz de Ynestrillas and soldier-driver Francisco Casillas were murdered yesterday in Madrid by the terrorist group ETA in an attempt to destabilize the democratic system.’

‘I wonder if Guzmán was still working here then?’

‘Isn’t it unlikely? After all, he disappeared in 1953.’

‘I suppose. Though we can’t be sure of anything without firm evidence.’

A search of the other drawers revealed nothing further. Meanwhile, Tali moved slowly around the empty room, examining the walls, peering at the stone floor. She stopped and knelt to examine something. ‘Look at this, Ana María.’