The Hidden Assassins (35 page)

‘Steps have been taken,’ said Elvira. ‘We can’t go through all the schools in Andalucía in the same way that we’ve gone through the three buildings here in Seville, but we’ve told them to search their premises and we’ve got the local police involved, too.’

‘You’ve also told us that you believe the idea of MILA involvement to be a media invention of Zarrías,’ said del Rey. ‘So we have no real idea what the Islamic terrorists’ original intention was.’

‘But why bring powerful explosive to Seville, the capital of Andalucía?’ said Falcón. ‘There’s an unnerving brilliance to the idea of the MILA launching a ruthless attempt to bring Andalucía back into the Islamic fold. It’s as if the fiction and the truth could easily meet. Have we had any results from the DNA sampling? Are we certain that Hammad and Saoudi died in the mosque? Do we know yet whether they deviated from their route between the safe house in Valmojado and Seville?’

‘The forensics have been told to contact me as soon as they’ve had confirmation, but I doubt that will be today,’ said Elvira. ‘We haven’t heard anything more from the Guardia Civil about the route of the Peugeot Partner. Don’t try to overthink this situation, Javier. Just concentrate on
your
task.’

Angel Zarrías arrived at 9 p.m. Falcón made the introductions and left them to it. He went over to the forensics tent. They were working under lights on the bombsite, which was almost flat. The crane had gone, as had the diggers. Only one tipper was waiting to remove any further rubble. Falcón changed into a boiler suit and went into the tent, which was bright with halogen light. He found the chief of the forensics hovering over a vast array of rags, bits of shoe, plastic, strips of leather. He introduced himself again.

‘I’m looking for anything that could be construed as an instruction for making and placing bombs,’ said Falcón.

‘Something more than what we’ve already found in the fireproof box?’

‘Detail about the bomb making is what I’m after,’ said Falcón. ‘It might have been sewn into a jacket lining or in a wallet.’

‘We’ve still got plenty of work to do to get into the mosque. We got to the fireproof box early, because it happened to have been blown upwards in the blast,’ he said. ‘We’re working our way downwards now, but it’s piece-by-piece work, with everything having to be documented as we go. Tomorrow morning will be the earliest that we’ll get into the main body of the mosque.’

‘I just wanted you to know that we’re still looking for another piece in the jigsaw,’ said Falcón. ‘It could be in code, numbers or Arabic script.’

There were ten people working outside under the lights. It was similar to an archaeological dig, with a plan of the mosque under a reference grid on a table where each find was logged. The forensics were barely thirty centimetres below ground level. The stink of putrefaction was still heavy in the warm air. They worked in silence and low murmurs. It was hard, gruesome work. Falcón put a call through to Mark Flowers and asked for a meeting.

‘Sure, where are you?’

‘I’m at the bombsite now but I was thinking a good place to meet would be the apartment of Imam Abdelkrim Benaboura,’ said Falcón. ‘You know where that is, don’t you, Mark?’

Flowers didn’t respond to the sarcasm. Falcón walked to the Imam’s apartment, which was in a block nearby, similar to the one that had been destroyed. There was a permanent police guard on the door. Falcón showed his ID and the guard said that he did not have the authority to allow him to enter.

‘You know who I am?’ said Falcón.

‘Yes, Inspector Jefe, but you’re not on my list.’

‘Can I see your list?’

‘Sorry, sir. That’s classified.’ The guard’s mobile rang and he took the call, listening intently.

‘He’s already here,’ he said, and hung up.

He unlocked the door and let Falcón in.

The CNI men had not been exaggerating about the quantity of books in the apartment. The living and dining rooms were lined with books, and the bedroom floors were stacked with them. They covered all areas of human knowledge and were mostly in French and English, although there was a whole room given over to Arabic texts. The back room should have been the master bedroom but was the Imam’s study, with just a single bed at one end and his desk at the other. The walls were covered in books. Falcón sat at the desk in a wooden swivel chair. He looked through the drawers, which were empty. He swivelled in the chair and reached for a book on the nearest shelf. It was called
Riemann’s Zeta Function
. He put it back without troubling to open it.

‘He’d read them all,’ said Flowers, standing at the door. ‘Pretty amazing to think of all this knowledge in one guy’s head. We had a few people in Langley with this kind of reading behind them, but not many.’

‘How long had you known him?’ said Falcón.

‘Assuming that he’s dead.’

‘I’m sure he’s dead,’ said Flowers. ‘We met in Afghanistan in 1982. He was a kid then, but he was one of the few mujahedeen who spoke English, because, although he was born in Algeria, he went to school in Egypt. We were supplying them with weapons and tactics to fight the Russians. He appreciated what we did for them; helping to keep those atheistic communists out
of the land of Allah. As you know, not many of the others did. Isn’t there a saying about helping people being the quickest road to resentment?’

‘And you kept in touch all this time?’

‘There have been breaks, as you’d expect. I lost track of him in the 1990s and then we resumed contact in 2002. I dug him out on one of my foraging trips to Tunis. He never bought into the Taliban and all that Wahhabi stuff. As you probably gathered, he was a bright guy and he couldn’t find an interpretation of any line of the Koran that approved of suicide bombing. He was one of them, but he saw things very clearly.’

‘And you didn’t think to tell one of your new spies, who was investigating—’

‘Hey, look, Javier, you had the information from day one. Juan told you he didn’t have clearance for his history and that the Americans had vouched for him on his visa application. What more do you want? His CV? Don’t expect to be spoon-fed in this game,’ said Flowers. ‘I can’t have it released into the public domain that I was running an Imam as a spy in a local mosque in Seville.’

‘And that’s why we didn’t get in here,’ said Falcón, ‘and why we didn’t get access to his phone records?’

‘I had to make sure the place was clear of anything that might implicate him in CIA work. That meant going through all these books,’ said Flowers. ‘And I’m not irresponsible. I made sure the CNI checked out the electrician’s number.’

‘All right, I accept that. I should have been a bit more…aware,’ said Falcón. ‘Did Benaboura tell you about Hammad and Saoudi?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘That must have hurt.’

‘You don’t understand the pressure on these people,’ said Flowers. ‘He gave me plenty of useful information, names, movements, all sorts of stuff, but he didn’t tell me about Hammad and Saoudi because he couldn’t.’

‘You mean he couldn’t risk telling you about them, and you then acting on the information, with the result that all fingers would be pointing at Abdelkrim Benaboura?’

‘You’re learning, Javier.’

‘Did he know about Miguel Botín?’

‘Benaboura was an experienced guy.’

‘I see,’ said Falcón, thinking that through. ‘So he decided that Miguel Botín was an acceptable route for the information about Hammad and Saoudi to come out, which was why he used the electricians Botín put forward.’

‘He read that situation very clearly. He understood why the fake council inspectors came in, he appreciated the fuse box blowing and the “right” electrician being put in his hand,’ said Flowers. ‘What he didn’t expect was for the electricians to plant a bomb, as well as a microphone.’

‘There was a microphone?’

‘Of course, he had to find out where it was so that he could have his conversations there,’ said Flowers. ‘They put it in the plug socket in his office.’

‘I wonder if that was in use and who was listening to it?’ said Falcón. ‘What did the CNI have to say about it?’

‘It was supposed to be the CGI who planted it,’ said Flowers. ‘Botín was working for Gamero, who was with the CGI, and I never spoke to them about it because
I was told that there was a security problem in their ranks.’

‘What about the extra socket Benaboura had installed in the storeroom?’

‘That was probably a request from Hammad and Saoudi,’ said Flowers. ‘He never spoke to me about it.’

‘So you didn’t know about the hexogen either?’

‘It would have all come out when Benaboura was ready for it to come out.’

‘Did he pick up on the surveillance?’

‘In the apartment across the street?’ said Flowers. ‘He was so amazed at how unprofessional it was he’d begun to think it wasn’t surveillance.’

‘Did you talk to somebody about that on his behalf?’

‘I asked Juan and he said it wasn’t anything to do with them and he nosed around the CGI for me and said they weren’t involved either. I had a look in the apartment myself one evening and it was empty. No equipment. I didn’t bother with it any more after that.’

‘You’re uncharacteristically allowing me to ask a lot of questions.’

‘It’s all old news.’

‘You don’t seem bothered by the fact that Botín’s electricians put a bomb in the mosque.’

‘Oh, I’m bothered, Javier. I’m very bothered by that. I’ve lost one of my best agents.’

‘Do you buy the CNI’s story?’

‘That Botín was a double?’ said Flowers. ‘That the Islamic terrorists he was working for knew about Benaboura and wanted to get rid of him?’

‘And Hammad and Saoudi.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ said Flowers, bitterly. ‘But I’m not
thinking about that now. It’s
your
job to rummage in the past.’

‘Now you’re thinking: what were Hammad and Saoudi going to do with 100 kilos of hexogen in Seville?’

‘The GICM are not interested in returning Andalucía to the Islamic fold,’ said Flowers. ‘Their priority is to make Morocco an Islamic state, under Sharia law, but they do hold the same feelings about the West as those people we call al-Qaeda.’

‘Is it certain that Hammad and Saoudi were GICM?’

‘They’ve worked for them before.’

‘So what was the hexogen going to be used for?’

‘And was there more of it elsewhere?’ asked Flowers. ‘Those are the big unanswerable questions. It was probably still in its raw form when it exploded. We can only hope for more clues when we get into the mosque.’

‘What would have had to be done to it to make it usable?’

‘Normally they’d have mixed it with some plastique so that it could be moulded. The best clue would be to find what they were going to pack it into. The hardware.’

‘But if you wanted to destroy a building, you could just stick it all in a suitcase, put it in the boot of a car and drive it through the entrance?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Do you know what the CNI are working on?’ asked Falcón, realizing now that his conversation with Flowers was no longer evolving.

‘You’d have to ask them,’ said Flowers. ‘But my advice to you is to do what you’re paid to do, Javier. Stick to the past.’

Falcón’s mobile vibrated. It was Ramírez. He took the call in the kitchen, well away from Flowers.

‘We can confirm a sighting of Tateb Hassani in Rivero’s house,’ said Ramírez. ‘We weren’t having any luck on the outside, but Cristina spotted a woman coming out of the house who happened to be the maid looking after Hassani’s room. She first saw him on 29th May and last saw him on 2nd June. She didn’t work weekends, none of the maids in the main house do. She’s not absolutely certain, but she doesn’t think he left the house the entire time he was there. He worked in the Fuerza Andalucía offices at the front of the building and took most of his meals over there.’

‘What news about Angel Zarrías?’

‘That’s why I’m calling. He’s just arrived at Rivero’s house about five minutes after Jesús Alarcón turned up. They’re all here. It must be a Fuerza Andalucía strategy meeting.’

‘Tell Cristina she has to find someone who was working at Rivero’s house on Saturday evening. There must have been some kind of dinner for Tateb Hassani, which means cooks, serving staff, those kinds of people.’

Seville—Thursday, 8th June 2006, 21.50 hrs

‘I think we should get Eduardo Rivero on his own,’ said Falcón, ‘without any sense of support from Jesús Alarcón and Angel Zarrías. Tateb Hassani was in
his
house, as
his
guest, and he was murdered there in
his
offices. If we can break him first, I’m sure he’ll give us the rest.’

‘What about the transport?’ said Elvira. ‘Can we get our hands on the car that took the body from Rivero’s house to dump it in those bins on Calle Boteros?’

‘The only sighting we’ve had of that car has been by an elderly alcoholic who was looking down from a height of about ten metres at night. All we’ve got from him is that it was a dark estate,’ said Falcón. ‘Ramírez is round there now, with Pérez, trying to find a more reliable witness. We’re also checking all the cars in Rivero’s name, and his wife’s, to see if any match the basic description.’

‘And who’s watching Rivero’s house?’

‘Serrano and Baena are keeping Angel Zarrías under twenty-four-hour surveillance. They won’t leave until
he does,’ said Falcón. ‘What about a search warrant for Rivero’s house?’

‘I’m worried about that, Javier,’ said Elvira. ‘Rivero might not be the leader of an important party, but he is a huge figure in Seville society. He knows everybody. He has important friends in all walks of life, including the judiciary. The trump card you hold at the moment is surprise. He doesn’t realize that you’ve identified Tateb Hassani and located him at his house in the days before his murder. If I apply for a search warrant I have to make the case and reveal everything to the judge. The vital advantage you have has more opportunities to leak.’

‘You’d rather I tried to break him first?’

‘There are risks either way.’

‘They’re having a meeting now and they’ll probably have dinner afterwards,’ said Falcón. ‘Let’s see what the next hours bring us and we’ll confer before we make the final move.’

Falcón went back to his house to have something to eat and to think about the best way to get Eduardo Rivero to talk. Inspector Jefe Luis Zorrita called, wanting to talk to him about Inés’s murder. Falcón told him that now was the only moment he could spare.

Encarnación had left him some fresh pork fillet. He made a salad and sliced up some potatoes and the meat. He smashed up some cloves of garlic, threw them into the frying pan with the pork fillet and chips. He dashed some cheap whisky on top and let it catch fire from the gas flame. He ate without thinking about the food and drank a glass of red rioja to loosen up his mind. Instead of thinking about
Rivero, he found his mind full of Inés again, and it was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t quite believe that she was dead, despite having seen her lying by the river. She’d been here only…last night, or was it the night before?

It was stuffy in the kitchen and he took his glass of wine and sat on the rim of the fountain in the patio, under the heat, which was still sinking down the walls like a giant, invisible press. They’d made love in this fountain, he and Inés. Those were wild, exhilarating days: just the two of them in this colossal house, running naked around the gallery, down the steps, in and out of the cloisters. She had been so beautiful then, in that time when youth was still running riot. He, on the other hand, was already carrying his ball and chain, he just didn’t know it, couldn’t see it. It occurred to him that he’d probably driven her into the arms of Esteban Calderón, the man who would eventually kill her.

The doorbell rang. He let Zorrita in and sat him down in the patio with a beer. Falcón had just finished describing his marriage to Inés, her affair with Calderón, their separation and divorce when his mobile vibrated. He took it in his study, closed the patio door.

‘We’ve had some luck with the car,’ said Ramírez. ‘There’s a bar on Calle Boteros called Garlochi. Strange place. All decked out with pictures and effigies of the Virgin. The bar has a canopy over it like a float from Semana Santa. It’s lit with candles, they burn incense and the house cocktail comes in a glass chalice and it’s called “Sangre de Cristo”.’

‘Suitably decadent.’

‘It’s always been shut when we’ve checked the area before. The owner tells me he was closing up on Saturday night, or rather, early Sunday morning, when he saw the car turn into the cul-de-sac and reverse up to the bins. He described it just as Cristina’s witness had, except that he got a good view of it when the car reversed out of the cul-de-sac. He recognized it as a Mercedes E500 because he wanted to buy one himself but couldn’t afford it. He also looked for the registration because he thought the three guys were behaving suspiciously, but that was nearly a week ago. All he could remember was that it was a new type of number which began with 82 and he thought that the last letter was an M.’

‘Does that help you?’

‘Baena just called me to say that three other cars have now turned up at Rivero’s house,’ said Ramírez. ‘We’ve checked the plates and they’re owned by Lucrecio Arenas, César Benito and Agustín Cárdenas. We’re running a search on those people…’

‘Lucrecio Arenas introduced Jesús Alarcón to Fuerza Andalucía through Angel Zarrías,’ said Falcón. ‘I don’t know anything about the other two.’

‘Listen. Agustín Cárdenas’s car is a black Mercedes Estate E500 and the registration is 8247 BHM.’

‘That’s our man,’ said Falcón.

‘I’ll get back to you when I know more.’

Falcón went back to Zorrita, apologized. Zorrita waved it away. Falcón told him about the last time he’d seen Inés. How she’d unexpectedly turned up at his house on Tuesday night, swearing about her husband and his endless affairs.

‘Did you like Esteban Calderón?’ asked Zorrita.

‘I used to. People were surprised. I only found out much later that he and Inés had been having an affair for the last part of our short married life,’ said Falcón. ‘I thought he was an intelligent, well-informed, cultured person and he probably still is. But he’s also arrogant, ambitious, narcissistic, and a lot of other adjectives that I can’t retrieve from my brain at the moment.’

‘Interesting,’ said Zorrita, ‘because he asked me if you’d go and see him.’

‘What for?’ asked Falcón. ‘He knows I can’t talk about his case.’

‘He said he wants to explain something to you.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

‘It’s up to you,’ said Zorrita. ‘It won’t bother me.’

‘Off the record,’ said Falcón. ‘Did he break down and confess?’

‘Nearly,’ said Zorrita. ‘There was a breakdown, but not in the usual way. Rather than his conscience forcing out the truth, it was more as if he suddenly doubted himself. To start with he was all arrogance and determined resistance. He refused a lawyer, which meant I could be quite brutal with him about the way he’d abused his wife. I think he was unaware of the intensity of his rage, the savagery it unleashed and the damage he’d done to her. He was shocked by the autopsy details and that’s when his certainty really wavered and he began to believe that he
could
have done it.

‘He described arriving at his apartment as if he was telling me about a movie and there was some confusion about how the script played out. At first he said that he’d seen Inés standing by the sink, but then he
changed his mind. In the end, I think there were two Calderóns. The judge and this other person, who was locked up most of the time but would come out and take over.’

‘Inés said he needed psychological help,’ said Falcón, ‘but I don’t think she had something as serious as schizophrenia in mind.’

‘Not clinical schizophrenia,’ said Zorrita. ‘There’s a beast inside most of us, it just never gets to see the light of day. For whatever reason, Calderón’s beast got out of the cage.’

‘You’re convinced he did it?’

‘I’m certain there was nobody else involved, so the only question is whether it was premeditated or accidental,’ said Zorrita. ‘I don’t think his lover stood to gain anything out of Inés’s death. She didn’t want to marry him. She’s not the marrying kind. She admitted that they’d had a “joke” about “the bourgeois solution to a bourgeois institution” being murder, but I don’t think it was her intention that he should go off and kill his wife. He’ll try to make out it was accidental, although no court is going to like the sound of how he abused her beforehand.’

Zorrita finished his beer. Falcón walked him to the door. Ramírez called again. Zorrita walked off into the night with a wave.

‘OK, César Benito is the Chief Executive of a construction company called Construcciones PLM S.A. He is on the board of directors of Horizonte, in charge of their property services division, which includes companies like Mejorvista and Playadoro. The other guy, Agustín Cárdenas, is a bit more interesting. He’s a qualified surgeon who runs his own cosmetic surgery clinics in
Madrid, Barcelona and Seville. He is also on the board of Horizonte, in charge of their medical services division, which runs Quirúrgicalidad, Ecográficalidad and Optivisión.’

‘It looks like a gathering of the conspiracy to plan their next move now that the first phase has been successfully completed,’ said Falcón.

‘But I’m not convinced that we’ve got the full picture,’ said Ramírez. ‘I can see Rivero, Zarrías, Alarcón and Cárdenas poisoning Hassani, and probably Cárdenas did the work on the corpse, but none of these guys fits the descriptions of any of the men in the Mercedes E500 who dumped the body.’

‘And who planted the bomb, or gave orders for it to be planted?’

‘There’s a missing element,’ said Ramírez. ‘I can see the money and the power and a certain amount of ruthlessness to deal with Tateb Hassani. But how could you get somebody to do the work in the mosque and rely on them to keep their mouths shut?’

‘The only way to find that out is to put them under pressure in the Jefatura,’ said Falcón, hearing the doorbell. ‘Give Elvira an update. I’ve got a meeting with the CNI here. And tell Cristina she
has
to get a sighting of Tateb Hassani, as late on Saturday evening as possible. It’s important that we have that before we talk to Rivero.’

Pablo and Gregorio went straight to the computer. Gregorio set to work, booting up the computer and getting access to the CNI’s encrypted site, through which they would ‘chat’ to Yacoub Diouri.

‘We’ve arranged for you to talk to Yacoub at 23.00 hours every night, unless you agree not to beforehand.
That’s 23.00 Spanish time, which is 21.00 Moroccan time,’ said Pablo. ‘Obviously you have to be on your own to do this, nobody even in the house with you. The way in which you recognize each other is that each time you make contact you will start with a paragraph of incidental chat in which you will include a phrase from this book—’

Pablo handed him a copy of
Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me
by Javier Marías.

‘On the first day he will choose a phrase from the opening paragraph of page one, and you will respond with a phrase from the closing paragraph of page one,’ said Pablo. ‘Once you’ve recognized each other you can talk freely.’

‘What if he doesn’t use the phrase?’

‘The most important thing is that you do not remind him and you don’t respond with any classified information. You include your introductory phrase in your opening paragraph and if he still doesn’t rectify the situation you log off. You must then not communicate with him until we’ve checked out his status,’ said Pablo. ‘The other thing is: no printouts. We will have a record on our website, which you will not be able to access unless we are here with you.’

‘I still don’t understand how you know that Yacoub will be accepted so easily into the GICM,’ said Falcón.

‘We didn’t say that,’ said Pablo. ‘We said that he would be accepted into the radical element of the mosque in Salé. You have to remember Yacoub’s history; what his real father, Raúl Jiménez, did and how his surrogate father, Abdullah Diouri, retaliated. That did not happen in a bubble. The whole family knew about it. That is the source of a certain amount
of sympathy with some of the more radical elements of Islam. Don’t ask any more…let’s just see whether Yacoub has made contact with the radical element in the mosque and, if he has, how quickly he’ll be put in touch with the high command of the GICM.’

‘So what is the purpose of my conversation with him?’

‘At this stage, to let him know that you’re here,’ said Pablo. ‘Ultimately, we want to find out what was supposed to happen here in Seville and whether they still have the capability to make it happen, but we might have to be satisfied with confirmation of the history at this stage.’

The communication started at 23.03. They made their introductions and Falcón asked his first question.

‘How’s your first day been back at school?’

‘It’s more like the first day as a new member of a club. Everybody’s sizing me up, some are friendly, others suspicious and a few are unfriendly. It’s like in any organization, I’ve come in at a certain level and been welcomed by my equals, but I’m despised as a usurper by those who thought they were becoming important. There’s a hierarchy here. There has to be. It’s an organization with a military wing. The striking difference is that the commander-in-chief is not a man, but Allah. No action by this group, or any of the others that they read about, is referred to without mention of the ultimate source of the commands. We’re constantly reminded that we’re involved in a Holy War. It is powerful and inspirational and I’ve come back feeling dazed. Home seems strange, or rather, extremely banal after a day spent
with people so certain of their place and destiny in the will of Allah. I can see how powerfully this would work on a young mind. They’re also clever at depersonalizing the enemy, who are rarely specific people—unless you count Tony Blair and George Bush—but rather the decadence and godlessness that has engulfed the West. I suppose it’s easier to bomb decadence and godlessness than it is men, women and children.’

‘Any talk about what happened in Seville on 6th June?’

‘They talk about nothing else. The Spanish satellite news is avidly watched for more information, but it’s not so easy to work out the extent of their involvement.’

‘Any talk about Djamel Hammad and Smail Saoudi and what they were doing bringing 100 kilos of hexogen to Seville?’