Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (12 page)

"Can you be more specific?"

Emilia described the heart of the problem, the double counting, the multiple invoicing and the numbers of credit notes that had not been refunded to suppliers. She illustrated instances where agreed price reductions hadn't been applied. After seemingly endless analysis trying to track credits going through to the profit and loss accounts, the financial trail had gone dead, at least as far as the existing data went.

"Remember we can only see purchasing and payments, not all of the accounting entries. For example, even trying to understand via the tax payable accounts I can't reconcile how, or if, any duplicate monies are actually taxed. This suggests that something's been flowing out of each client in some deliberately hidden way. The obvious mechanism is by some form of cash. But that, by its nature, is anonymous.

"Quite frankly we're stuck. Unless Caterina or I have new brainwaves soon we're thinking we should tell Felipe we will call it a day at the end of this week or next. Maybe we should restart the travelling."

While this didn't exactly surprise Davide, it was a shock and not what he wanted to hear. Just said aloud it created an unexpectedly deep hole inside him, one for which he thought he was prepared for but now understood he wasn't. It sort of put Inma in perspective, though he was looking forward to talking with her to find out how matters had developed since she and Miriam returned to Spain from Rome. All this made the prospect of telling Caterina about the forthcoming dinner that much harder.

Davide said, "Have you no suggestions at all?"

Caterina said, "None whatsoever. We need a breakthrough but don't see how to find one. Too much is out of our control, plus there's a second problem."

Caterina glanced towards Emilia, wondering if she should say anything in front of Davide. She decided on boldness. It might have an effect.

"That is?" enquired Davide.

"The long and short of it is that Emilia is ..." Yet again she was uncertain if she should mention it.

"Don't laugh, please, Davide, but Emilia is sex-starved."

"Caterina! How can you say such a thing!" exploded Emilia.

"It's true. We both know it. But this matters, Davide. Emilia's creativity, if that's the word, thrives on a regular diet of sex, or at least it did back home. I see the signs right now."

Although Emilia stared at Caterina, it was without enmity.

"For Emilia, deprivation means that her energy levels reduce, her enthusiasm wanes and her originality quotient falls. There have been similar times in the past, when we've been working on something together and were stuck. She goes off to get herself laid or finds an unsuitable lady to seduce. The next day, or more likely a couple of days later when she's recovered from whatever specific excess she chose, out comes this startling insight from which we can finally progress."

"This seems rather incredible that you should raise this now," interjected Emilia.

"Shut up! Deny it all you like but it's happened three or four times. Remember –"

"Stop! I don't need to go there, Caterina. You're making too much of this. It's all in your mind because if I'm sex-mad you're sex-starved. What you need is to be thoroughly –"

"Oh be quiet, Emilia! I'm not the immediate problem, you are."

Davide listened, more astonished than believing.

He said, "Ummm. What can I or we do to solve this?"

As soon as he had uttered the words he felt stupid. He prayed that neither would interpret this as him suggesting that he was the solution to Emilia's requirements. That was not a role he envisaged or wanted, however flattering being the focus of Emilia's attention might be.

"Relax, Davide. Emilia is not expecting you to perform – or I hope she isn't."

Caterina frowned at Emilia who was sitting, still taken aback, though more at Caterina's taking the initiative than anything else. Emilia shook her head in agreement.

Caterina said, "No, this is a general problem requiring a specific fix. That said, I'm not playing pimp for you, Emilia."

A phone warbled outside the salon. Seizing the opportunity Emilia jumped up.

"That's mine." She left, with Caterina and Davide eyes following after her, before turning to each other.

"If that was one shock, Caterina, I have another for you. I've arranged to have dinner with Inma tomorrow."

"Good for you!" was the tart response.

A chill descended swiftly on the room and sustained itself until broken by a beaming Emilia returning.

"That was Alberto, from ORS. He's asked me out to dinner on Wednesday night. It's a bit of a surprise. He hardly said two words to me on Saturday evening."

"You accepted?" said Caterina.

"Of course, though I'm not sure he's my type."

"Everyone's your type, male or female, if your need's sufficiently great."

"Don't be catty, Caterina. Anyhow, beggars can't be choosers. I feel invigorated already."

Tuesday: Valencia

Marta had been putting off making the call to ORS. She had understood Alfredo's grim logic. Making contact with her other three clients would be worse, given that Inocenta had repaid, Alfredo's firm was already within the game plan and El Cerámico was being uncooperative.

An idea came to her. Rather than go to ORS as representing a potential client, why not visit as the representative of FyP or one of her other clients? This way she might see whether she could negotiate some form of lesser settlement. If so this could reduce the financial burden on herself.

Instinctively Marta knew that she should pass this by Alfredo. She preferred not to. Rather, she would show him that he was not the only one with brains and ability.

Nevertheless, every time she contemplated contacting ORS her feet froze to the floor and her mind turned soggy. Marta knew she must act. Alfredo had already phoned to ask if she'd made contact or, if not, when she intended to. She'd replied, saying that they had not been able to agree a date last week and that she'd call again today. Now she'd no alternative.

Reluctantly she picked up the phone and dialled the number for ORS. She asked for Felipe Garcia-Martín and was put through to a smooth talking secretary. Marta requested an appointment for Thursday or Friday with Mr Garcia-Martín only to be questioned about why she wanted to meet him. Marta stated that she represented FyP, to which ORS had been writing letters about monies owed. This immediately brought a more positive response. Shortly afterwards she possessed an appointment for noon on Friday in Alcobendas.

Now she had to arrange everything else. An email to Alfredo explained that the meeting was set up. A discreet call to Salvador confirmed that he would join her in Madrid that Friday afternoon after seeing his sister for lunch. Salvador was going to tell his wife that he would stay in Madrid that evening. Salvador also said he would book a hotel and asked if the Santo Mauro would suffice. They could meet there when each had finished their chores.

This pleased Marta immensely. She had never stayed at the Santo Mauro, which was often mentioned as one of Madrid's best hotels. It was also famously discreet, which would suit them both well.

She felt better. A prolonged evening and night of mutual entertainment and release suddenly dominated her thoughts. Anticipated endorphins were making her feel good again.

Moments later Marta shook her head. Had she made a mistake? Choosing FyP had been a spur of the moment action. Should she talk with Estefanía beforehand and make sure she had the authority and backing to speak on behalf of FyP? What bothered was that Marta had still not received a decision from Estefanía. This puzzled.

Deciding that prudence was better than winging it she called FyP. The same personal assistant who had been able to put her through so quickly before was unable to do so this time.

"Estefanía is travelling and won't return to the office until Friday morning. May she call you back first thing on Friday morning between nine and ten?"

Marta thought fast. She would need to catch the seven thirty morning AVE to Madrid, which would bring her to Atocha Station around ten.

"Yes, that would work, though I'll be on the AVE, so you ought to warn Estefanía that I may need to speak circumspectly if there are people close by."

"I'll tell her. Is there a particular subject?"

"If you say 'ORS' that should be sufficient."

Now all Marta had to do was prepare what she would say to ORS and how she would shape any proposition. Friday would be a big day, especially if she was to deliver what Alfredo, Puri and she had plotted in Soria.

Her smartphone rang. By coincidence it was Puri. They had already connected a couple of times since the weekend. They were both finding being able to talk refreshing, an admission that each had made to the other during their last conversation.

"Puri, I've just messaged Alfredo to say I'm heading for Madrid on Friday to visit ORS. They've finally agreed to a meeting."

Marta felt mildly guilty putting it like this. It was really she who had prevaricated.

"Sounds good."

"I'll make a point of calling to update you, though it may not be until late on Saturday, or possibly Sunday, because I'm staying in Madrid on Friday night."

"Anywhere interesting?"

"The Santo Mauro."

"Oooh, lucky you! Do I assume you won't be by yourself?"

"Too right."

Wednesday: Madrid

When Davide left the
piso
to meet Inma, Caterina appeared dejected, even deflated. The prospect of having to spend an evening alone, or at least she would have to do so once Emilia departed to join Alberto, clearly did not appeal.

Davide had worried this might happen, after realising that his dinner with Inma coincided with Emilia's date. But it had been too late to rearrange Inma, though he had tried. Equally, there was no way rescheduling Emilia's social excitement was going to permit any deferral of pleasures anticipated. Emilia had made this abundantly clear.

It was with somewhat of a heavy heart that he'd headed towards Opera, to a place called Taberna del Alabardero. He'd never heard of it but Inma, when they made arrangements to meet, had enthused about it as a place she and her sisters much liked. It was mutually convenient. Both could walk there, though Madrid had turned colder. It was threatening rain, if Davide was right about the smell in the air.

Davide arrived earlier than expected, finding that the
restaurante
had outside tables. He glanced at the sky. It remained forbidding with the street lighting reflecting off low scudding clouds. Definitely rain was on the way. No outside eating tonight, then.

On entering he wasn't surprised to find Inma not there yet. Finding a small table near the bar he ordered a
vino blanco
and sat back to think.

ORS was getting them all down. Nothing had improved since the conversation the other day. He wondered what he could do or even should do, not least about Caterina. Probably the best thing was to let her fade away and accept that was it. Unfortunately one part of him was unconvinced.

Inma's voice interrupted his musings, which had been such that he had not even touched his wine. He stood, returning her greeting. They took stock of each other.

To Inma Davide looked tired and dispirited, the opposite to how he had been in the night club on Saturday. There was an air of defeat she did not associate with him though, as she acknowledged to herself, she did not exactly know him well. He again looked better dressed than when in Rome. Interesting.

Facing Davide was a lady of medium height, in her later forties if he remembered correctly. But she had the figure of someone ten years younger, generous yet firm and rich without a gram of excess. Simply dressed in an open, loose pale-blue linen shirt and a medium-short black leather skirt he saw, from the corners of his eyes, that she was attracting looks from both male and female customers. She did not have a pretty face. It was too long and severe, dominated by heavy dark eyebrows and a solid chin softened a little by discreet make-up. But this was more than compensated by the wave of luscious hair that flowed down and around that face and over her shoulders.

"What will you have to drink?" he asked as a waiter materialised at her elbow.

"Rather than sit here, shall we go to our table?

"Why not? I didn't realise there was a restaurant apart from the
terraza
outside."

"Most people don't. It's through here."

She led the way through to a small back room with tables for about twenty, depending on how they were arranged.

"Oh good, they've given us a corner one. It's spacious there. I hope you won't mind but I've ordered a bottle of my favourite Priorato, a particular wine that I can only obtain here. As a family we adore it."

Inma opened her hands, realising she was on the fringes of babbling. She was more anxious than she anticipated but she could not stop herself.

"I live in terror this place will run out one day. They assure me they'll always obtain more. Nevertheless ... Another thing I like about this place is that they treat their loyal customers royally."