The Hidden Assassins (34 page)

They went up to the apartment. Manuela wasn’t there. It was a huge, four-bedroomed place, with two of the bedrooms used as offices. Angel walked to the wall of his study and pointed at a shot in the middle.

‘That’s the one you want,’ he said, tapping a framed photograph in the centre of the wall. ‘That’s a rare shot of all the executives of Horizonte and Banco Omni in the same place. It was taken for the fortieth anniversary event. I’ve got a copy of it somewhere.’

Angel sat at his desk, opened a drawer and went through a stack of photographs. Falcón searched the shot for a likeness of the police artist’s drawing of the man seen with Ricardo Gamero.

‘Which one is Lucrecio Arenas?’ asked Falcón. ‘I don’t see anybody I recognize here. If I’d met him, where would that have been?’

‘He has a house in Seville, although he doesn’t live in it for half the year. His wife can’t stand the heat so they go and live in some palatial villa, built for them by Mejorvista, down in Marbella,’ said Angel. ‘You
remember that big dinner I had in the Restaurante La Juderia last October? He was there.’

‘I was away teaching a course at the police academy.’

Angel gave him the shot and pointed out Lucrecio Arenas, who was in the centre, while Angel was on the very edge of the two rows of men. Arenas had similarities to the police artist’s drawing in that he was the right age, but there was no revelatory moment.

‘Thanks for this,’ said Falcón.

‘Don’t lose it,’ said Angel, who put it in an envelope for him.

‘What about this shot of you and King Juan Carlos,’ said Falcón. ‘Have you got a copy of that?’

They both laughed.

‘The King doesn’t need me to do his PR for him,’ said Angel. ‘He’s a natural.’

‘Are you getting anywhere, José Luis?’ asked Falcón.

‘I can’t believe it, but we’ve drawn a total blank,’ said Ramírez. ‘If Tateb Hassani
was
staying with someone in this area, he didn’t go for a coffee, he didn’t eat a tapa, drink a beer, buy bread, go to the supermarket, get a newspaper—nothing. Nobody has seen this guy before, and he’s got a face you don’t forget.’

‘Any news from Cristina and Emilio?’

‘They’ve seen most of the big houses in the area and there are no box hedges. They’ve all got internal patios rather than gardens. There’s the Convento de San Leandro and the Casa Pilatos, but that doesn’t help us much.’

‘I want you to find and check out another house. I don’t have the address, but it belongs to someone called Lucrecio Arenas,’ said Falcón. ‘And I spoke to the CNI
about the Imam’s phone records. They’ve checked out the electrician’s number already. It was a dead end.’

‘Can we have a look at those records ourselves?’

‘They’ve become classified documents,’ said Falcón, and hung up.

He was on his way to see the security guard who’d finished his shift at the Archaeological Museum and gone home. It was a long drive out to his apartment in the northeast of the city. He took a call from Pablo.

‘You’re going to be pleased about this,’ the CNI man said. ‘Our handwriting expert has matched the Arabic script to the notes attached to the architect’s drawings of the schools and the biology faculty. He’s also matched Tateb Hassani’s English script to the annotations in both copies of the Koran. What does this mean, Javier?’

‘I’m not absolutely sure of its greater significance, but I’m confident you can tell your code breakers to stop looking for a key to crack the non-existent cipher in those copies of the Koran,’ said Falcón. ‘I think they were planted in the Peugeot Partner
and
Miguel Botín’s apartment, specifically to confuse us.’

‘And that’s all you can say for the moment?’

‘I’ll be seeing you later at my house,’ said Falcón. ‘I’m hoping it will all be clearer by then.’

The lift to the security guard’s apartment on the sixth floor was not working. Falcón was sweating as he rang the doorbell. The wife and kids were despatched to bedrooms and Falcón laid the photograph down on the dining-room table. His heart was beating tight and fast, willing the guard to find Lucrecio Arenas.

‘Do you see the older man in this photograph?’

There were two rows of men, about thirty in all. The security guard had done this before. He took two
pieces of paper and isolated each face from the rest of the shot and took a good look at it. He started on the left and worked his way across. He studied them carefully. Falcón couldn’t bear the tension and looked out of the window. It took the guard some time. He knew it must be important for an Inspector Jefe to come all the way out to his apartment to show him this shot.

‘That’s him,’ said the guard. ‘I’m absolutely sure of it.’

Falcón’s heart was thundering as he looked down. But the guard wasn’t pointing at Lucrecio Arenas in the centre of the shot. He was tapping the face at the extreme right of the second row—and that face belonged to Angel Zarrías.

Seville—Thursday, 8th June 2006, 20.15 hrs

The sun was setting on the third day since the explosion. As Falcón drove back into the city his mind reached a static but profound level of concentration focused entirely on Angel Zarrías.

Back in the security guard’s apartment he’d become quite angry. He’d torn the police sketch out of his pocket, smoothed it out on the dining-room table and asked the poor guy to show him the similarities. Falcón had been forced to admit a few things: that all old people looked the same, or invisible, to younger people; that Angel was 1.65m and only a little heavier than 75 kilos; that Angel had no facial hair and he did have a side parting and, even if he was a bit thin on top, he used all available hair to make it look as if he was still hanging on to it. Only when the security guard had talked him through the jaw line and nose did Falcón see Angel in the sketch, as an adult finally sees the outline of a face in a cloud, as pointed out by a frustrated child.

Ramírez met him in the car park outside the preschool.

‘We found Lucrecio Arenas’s house,’ said Ramírez. ‘It was in the Plaza Mercenarias. I sent Cristina over there to take a look and it was all closed up. The neighbours say they don’t spend much time there in the summer and there’s no garden, only an internal patio. They didn’t recognize Tateb Hassani either.’

They went into the classroom at the back where Juez del Rey and Comisario Elvira were waiting. Eight hours’ sleep in three days was ruining Elvira. They sat down. They were all exhausted. Even del Rey, who should have been fresh, looked rumpled, as if he’d been jostled by a disgruntled crowd.

‘Good news or bad?’ asked Elvira.

‘Both,’ said Falcón. ‘The good news is that I’ve identified the man seen speaking to Ricardo Gamero in the Archaeological Museum in the hours before he killed himself.’

‘Name?’

‘Angel Zarrías.’

Silence, as if they’d all seen someone sustain an ugly blow.

‘He’s your sister’s partner, isn’t he?’ said Ramírez.

‘How did you identify him?’ asked Elvira.

Falcón briefed them on his conversation outside the Taberna Coloniales and how he’d extracted the Horizonte/Banco Omni executive photograph from Angel.

‘But that’s only part of the bad news,’ said Falcón. ‘The other part is that I’m not sure whether this gets us any further down the chain.’

‘Meaning?’

‘What have we found out that will help us apply pressure on Zarrías to reveal more?’ said Ramírez.

‘Exactly,’ said Falcón. ‘He was the last person to speak to Ricardo Gamero, but so what? He knew Gamero from church and that’s the end of it. Why did he go to Zarrías and not his priest? His priest is dead. What did they talk about? Gamero was very upset. What about? Maybe Zarrías will give the same answer that Marco Barreda gave me. Perhaps Zarrías told Barreda to
tell
me that Gamero had been a closet gay. We don’t know enough to be able to crack him open.’

‘I can’t believe that Ricardo Gamero would go to Angel Zarrías at that particular moment to discuss emotional problems,’ said del Rey.

‘You could show Zarrías the shot of Tateb Hassani and see what reaction you get,’ said Elvira.

Neither Elvira nor del Rey had heard from Pablo, so Falcón told them about Tateb Hassani and how his handwriting matched that of the documents found in the fireproof box from the mosque and the notes found in the two copies of the Koran.

‘And why did you ask for that comparison to be made in the first place?’ asked Elvira.

‘It went back to a question I asked my officers when we first discovered the dead body on the rubbish dump: Why kill a man and take such drastic steps to destroy his identity? You would only do that because knowledge of the victim’s identity would lead investigators to people known to the victim, or because knowledge of his expertise might jeopardize a future operation. Tateb Hassani’s identity revealed a number of things. His expertise, as a professor of Arabic Studies, meant that he could write Arabic and would have a sound knowledge of the Koran. He had also given maths classes in Granada during the summer months and
therefore spoke and wrote Spanish. His profile was not that of an Islamic militant—he was an apostate, a sexual predator and a drinker of alcohol. Once he lost his job at Columbia University, which had cost him his New York apartment, he became so desperate for money that he’d taught maths privately in Columbus, Ohio, which was the home of I4IT, who own Horizonte, who in turn own Informáticalidad. Finally, I was not comfortable with the fact that the keys found in the Imam’s apartment, which successfully opened the fireproof box from the mosque, had been discovered in the kitchen drawer and not in the Imam’s desk with his other keys. This struck me as a plant by someone who had access to the Imam’s apartment, but not his study when he wasn’t there.’

‘Who would have planted the keys?’

‘Botín, under instructions from Gamero?’ said Ramírez.

‘At the beginning of this investigation Juan was telling us to keep an open mind and not to look at this attack historically, because there is no pattern in the way Islamic terrorists work. That’s true. That’s their style. Each attack comes out of the blue and there’s always some new twist that teases greater terror into the mind of the West. Just think about the virtuosity of the attacks experienced so far.

‘When I was driving back from the security guard’s apartment, something that struck me about the Seville bombing was its
lack
of originality. Of course, that wasn’t my first thought. My first thought was: these terrorists are prepared to attack residential property. But now I’m beginning to see that the Seville bomb refers back to some element in those previous attacks. The collapse
of the apartment building reminded us of the Moscow apartment blocks coming down in 1999. The discovery of the Islamic sash, the hood and the Koran in the Peugeot Partner reminded us of the Koran tapes and detonators found in the Renault Kangoo outside the station at Alcalá de Henares. The use of Goma 2 Eco in the device planted in the mosque reminded us of the explosive used on 11th March. The threat to the two schools and the biology faculty was reminiscent of Beslan. It was as if the person who planned this operation was drawing inspiration from something in those previous attacks.’

‘VOMIT,’ said Ramírez. ‘If there’s anybody who knows everything there is to know about Islamic terrorist attacks, it’s the author of that website.’

‘And now that the security guard has pointed the finger at Angel Zarrías there’s a logic to it. He’s a journalist, but he’s also a PR man. He knows how things work in the human mind,’ said Falcón. ‘I’m now asking myself: who leaked the Arabic script found in the fireproof box to Canal Sur? Or rather, who didn’t have to leak it, because it was already in their possession? And who planted the stories about the MILA? Who sent the Abdullah Azzam text to the
ABC
in Madrid from Seville?’

‘How far do you think this goes?’ said Elvira. ‘If they planted the Korans, the hood and the sash, was it because they knew about the hexogen?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Falcón. ‘I think the idea was conceived as just an attack against the mosque and the people in it. They were getting information from Miguel Botín, via Ricardo Gamero, that something was happening. The CGI had been frustrated in their first
attempt to get a bugging order. Gamero found another way, or rather, another way was revealed to him by Zarrías, which was that the mosque could be put under surveillance by Informáticalidad’s sales reps. Once it appeared that Hammad and Saoudi were making sinister preparations they decided to kill them, and anybody else unfortunate enough to be in the mosque at the time, before they could carry out the attack they were planning.

‘The decision was made. The surveillance terminated. The apartment on Calle Los Romeros rented out again. Meanwhile the fake council inspectors went into the mosque, laid a small device that would blow the fuse box, which would give the electricians access. Miguel Botín was given the electrician’s card and told to make it available to the Imam. It’s quite possible that Botín wasn’t part of the conspiracy and that he was told by Gamero that they had now been granted a bugging order and these electricians were going to position the microphone so that the CGI could carry out their surveillance. Botín was there to ensure that the Imam made the call to the right electricians. The Goma 2 Eco bomb was planted, along with the fireproof box. The design of the attack was to make it look like a bomb had gone off in the preparatory stage. Everybody would be killed and the ultimate, atrocious aim of the plot that was supposedly being planned would be found in the fireproof box.

‘They knew that Hammad and Saoudi were up to no good, but what I don’t believe they realized was just how powerful the explosive was that they were storing in the mosque. The detonation of 100 kilos of hexogen and the complete destruction of the apartment
building and the damage to the pre-school were not part of the plan. And that was why Ricardo Gamero killed himself. Not just because his friend and source had been killed, but also because he felt responsible for all the deaths.’

‘Well, that returns the logic to the scenario,’ said Elvira. ‘But first of all, I can’t see Angel Zarrías as the sole perpetrator and mastermind of this conspiracy. And secondly, I don’t know how the hell you set about proving any of it so that it can stand up in a court of law.’

‘The problem is that, if this scenario is the correct one, I cannot go to Angel Zarrías and reveal my hand, because the only cards I’ve got are the fact that I know he was the last person to speak to Gamero, face to face, and the shock value of having identified Tateb Hassani.’

‘You have to find the next link in the chain
after
Angel Zarrías,’ said del Rey. ‘He’s a journalist and a PR man. What are his PR connections?’

‘That’s how I got to him in the first place,’ said Falcón. ‘I was sure that the people from Informáticalidad couldn’t be operating on their own. I assumed they would be getting orders from their parent company. I looked at Horizonte, and that’s where I came across their bankers: Banco Omni. And…’

‘And?’

‘Jesús Alarcón used to work for Banco Omni,’ said Falcón, more things occurring to him. ‘He was put forward as a political candidate by Angel Zarrías’s old friend, the Chief Executive of Banco Omni, Lucrecio Arenas.’

‘Political candidate for what?’ asked del Rey.

‘He’s the new leader of Fuerza Andalucía.’

‘But Fuerza Andalucía are nowhere in regional politics,’ said Elvira. ‘They poll 4 per cent of the vote, if they’re lucky.’

‘After Jesús Alarcón appeared with Fernando Alanis on television today they polled 14 per cent,’ said Falcón. ‘Zarrías was very excited about it. He calls the PR work he does for Fuerza Andalucía his hobby, but I think it’s bigger than that. He’s looking for a share of power with the Partido Popular because, for once in his political life, he wants to have the strength to change things. I think he’s trying to manoeuvre Jesús Alarcón into a position where he can challenge for the leadership of the Partido Popular. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that he is to Jesús Alarcón what Karl Rove was to George Bush.’

‘So who is the next link in the chain?’ asked del Rey.

‘Tateb Hassani was staying somewhere while he was being put to work and it was there that he was probably killed,’ said Falcón. ‘I had assumed it would be in a house near where he was dumped. The bins were in a cul-de-sac on a quiet street, and that implied knowledge. That knowledge, I realize, came from Zarrías, who lives nearby, on the Plaza Cristo de Burgos. I’m now thinking that the house where Tateb Hassani was probably staying was the headquarters of Fuerza Andalucía, which belongs to Eduardo Rivero on Calle Castelar.’

‘Does it have a garden?’ asked Ramírez. ‘With a hedge?’

‘There is some sort of formal garden between the front of the house, where Rivero has the office, and the back part, which is the family home. I went there once with Angel and Manuela for a party, but it was
in the dark and I wasn’t looking at hedges. What we need now is a sighting of Tateb Hassani going into that house, which will give us our next link in the chain.’

‘What about Angel Zarrías?’ asked Ramírez. ‘Do you think it’s worth putting him under twenty-four-hour surveillance?’

‘I think it would be, especially as it might not be for long,’ said Falcón. ‘But there is something else which bothers me about all this, and that is the killing.’

‘Tateb Hassani was poisoned with cyanide,’ said Ramírez. ‘It’s not like stabbing, shooting, or strangling.’

‘First of all, how did they get hold of cyanide?’ asked Falcón. ‘And then there was the disfigurement. The clean amputation of the hands. I’m thinking there must be a doctor or surgeon involved in all this.’

‘And what about the bomb?’ said Ramírez. ‘It takes real criminal ruthlessness to do something like that.’

Falcón called Angel Zarrías to arrange a meeting with Comisario Elvira to talk about reviving the image of the investigative team. They’d agreed to profess an interest in Zarrías’s PR talents. It would also bring Zarrías to them so that Serrano and Baena could start the first shift of the surveillance.

It was too risky for Falcón to be seen in Calle Castelar near Eduardo Rivero’s house where he might be recognized. The work of placing Tateb Hassani in Rivero’s household fell to Ferrera, Pérez and Ramírez.

Elvira, del Rey and Falcón waited in the pre-school for Angel to turn up.

‘You’re not happy, Javier,’ said Elvira. ‘Are you concerned about how this will affect your relationship with your sister?’

‘No. That
does
concern me, but it’s not that,’ said Falcón. ‘What I’m thinking about now is that, if my scenario proves to be the correct one, it still doesn’t explain why Hammad and Saoudi brought 100 kilos of hexogen to Seville.’

‘That’s the CNI’s job, not yours,’ said Elvira.

‘What scares me is that if you
did
want to bring Andalucía back into the Islamic fold, without an army or navy, then your best chance of achieving that would be with a Beslan-type siege,’ said Falcón. ‘I thought at the time that the Russian special forces probably started that firefight because Putin could see how impossible the situation was becoming. He had to act before the global media circus made it an intense, emotional focal point. Once that happened he could only see himself making concessions. Putin’s reputation is built on strength and toughness. He couldn’t allow a bunch of terrorists to make him look weak. So he met their ruthlessness with his own and more than three hundred people died. If a similar situation happened here, with children taken hostage just at the moment when they should be going on holiday, can you imagine the reaction in Spain, Europe and the world? Putin-style ruthlessness would not be acceptable.’