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Authors: Robert Wilson

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Thrillers, #Suspense

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BOOK: The Ignorance of Blood
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‘One minor development there. Horizonte called earlier today and dropped one of the ordinary suites and booked the presidential suite instead. Yours for two thousand five hundred euros a night,’ said Ramírez.
‘That's got to be for someone important,’ said Falcón.
‘There's a dinner booked for eleven o'clock – ten people in a private room, again under the name Horizonte.’
‘What about the other guests?’
‘There's an American couple under the name of Zimbrick, a German couple under the name of Nadermann, and three booked in Spanish names: Sanchéz, Ortega and Cano,’ said Ramírez. ‘Two of those have already notified them of a late arrival.’
‘Who's made a booking in the last forty-eight hours?’
‘Sanchéz and Ortega,’ said Ramírez. ‘And Horizonte made that alteration.’
‘Anything else I should know?’
‘Horizonte have also reserved the conference room and cinema before dinner for one hour and asked for DVD projection facilities to be available.’
‘So, it looks as if we're right about it being a big new construction project,’ said Falcón. ‘First they'll have the site inspection, then the video of what it's going to look like, followed by the celebratory dinner and maybe even the signing ceremony.’
‘Horizonte have specifically asked that six bottles of Cristal vintage champagne be made available after the dinner.’
‘This isn't just another stepping stone in the negotiating process,’ said Falcón. ‘This is the big moment, and it's why the contents of Vasili Lukyanov's briefcase were so crucial.’
‘But without the disks what can the Russians do?’ asked Ramírez.
Falcón winced behind his sunglasses. Was he going to start lying to his right-hand man? This was what he told
suspects: the first lie begets a hundred others and nothing sticks in your mind like the truth.
‘The meeting I've just been to in Osuna was about the abduction of Darío,’ he said. ‘I don't think the Russians have him. I'm nearly certain that he's in Morocco.’
‘CNI business?’ said Ramírez. ‘Inspector Jefe Tirado of the GRUME told me there's still been no contact from the abductors, and if the Russians were trying to influence the outcome of this meeting with the mayor tonight they'd need those disks, which are still in our safe.’
‘Which could mean that at least one of the mafia groups has copies,’ said Falcón. ‘So we have to assume that is the case.’
He was appalled at the smoothness with which he'd plastered over that little crack.
‘If the Russians are going to muscle in on this deal,’ said Falcón, ‘they're not going to do it in the business park on the Isla de la Cartuja with all its security. If it happens it'll be in the hotel.’
‘Maybe we should get back-up,’ said Ramírez. ‘Fuck Comisario Elvira, we can't put our own people –’
‘Back-up will involve Elvira, and we'll still be briefing him by the time the meeting takes place in a couple of hours' time,’ said Falcón. ‘And besides, the Russians aren't going to go in there guns blazing. This isn't gang warfare. They're going to put pressure on the Horizonte/I4IT consortium. These are civilized people who scare very easily. We also have to keep our strategy quiet, because if the Russians have informers in the Guardia Civil, I'm sure they have them in the Jefatura as well.’
‘I was thinking more in terms of securing the hotel so that the mayor can have his meeting and sign the deal in peace,’ said Ramírez. ‘The mafia don't get a look in. None of our people have to take any risks.’
‘Perfect, as long as the deal is totally legitimate,’ said
Falcón. ‘Alejandro Spinola has created a question mark over that.’
‘How do you think Comisarios Lobo and Elvira are going to take it when a corruption scandal of this magnitude hits the press?’
‘Badly,’ said Falcón. ‘But the attraction of this scenario to me is that it's likely that the extortion will be done by senior mafia group members: Viktor Belenki and possibly even Leonid Revnik himself. For once we might actually catch some major players committing serious crimes, rather than picking them up for money-laundering or running illegal businesses,’ said Falcón. ‘And in the fallout, I think we're going to find answers to the Seville bombing, too.’
‘Right. I forgot. It's all connected,’ said Ramírez. ‘Where are you now?’
‘On the outskirts of Seville. I'm going into the Jefatura. Just keep me informed of any developments.’
He hung up, continued driving into the sun. Something about his conversation with Yacoub still bothered him, but there was too much going on for him to pick it out of his memory. And anyway, it was less to do with words and more to do with a feeling about Yacoub.
There was a lot of traffic on the ring road taking him from east to west Seville. He suddenly had to concentrate, and it was at this moment that ‘the voice’ chose to call.
‘How are you getting on with our last two disks?’
‘I'm just heading over to the Jefatura to see what progress the IT department are making on them. They might be available now.’
‘We've been able to comply with all your requests,’ said the voice.
‘What? Round up all the perpetrators of the Seville bombing? Including Nikita Sokolov and his two friends?’ said Falcón, incredulous. ‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘As we told you, Yuri Donstov's operation was in the process of being closed down.’
‘And what's happened to Yuri Donstov himself?’
‘He has disappeared.’
‘Are you sure you don't mean terminated?’ said Falcón. ‘Remember, I had a very special insight into the workings of your organization.’
‘Yuri Donstov saw the way things were going and decided that disappearing was more advisable than the alternative. Although the alternative is only a question of time.’
‘We're going to have to interview all these people you've brought together for me.’
‘Interview them? Why? They'll be arriving with signed confessions.’
‘We have to establish that you're sending us the right people,’ said Falcón. ‘Their confessions have to satisfy a court of law.’
‘You're not just being demanding now, Inspector Jefe,’ said the voice. ‘You're being impossible.’
‘The Jefatura's IT department have been hard at work, deciphering those disks. They've brought in some mathematics professors and Interpol, and it won't be long before they'll be approaching the intelligence community…’
Back at the Jefatura he went straight to the IT room. The two disks were still in use. So far they'd made no significant progress. They'd contacted the CNI, who were sending someone down to take a look. He went upstairs to his office, sat at his desk. The wall chart – my God, he was looking forward to tearing that down. It depressed him. That's what Alicia Aguado had said in his later sessions with her: contemplation of the past induces depression, but who are you without a past? Falcón had always thought that, if you had a past full of joy you wouldn't mind contemplating it. Aguado countered: If you only had joy to contemplate you'd learn
nothing, until you reached the point where you questioned your relative happiness. He'd thrown up his hands. ‘The unexamined life is not worth living,’ she quoted.
‘Is this the philosophical Inspector Jefe?’ said Pablo, leaning against the door jamb of his office.
‘I was wondering what had happened to you,’ said Falcón.
‘I've been spending too much time on the AVE. I came down from Madrid with our software-encryption specialist,’ said Pablo. ‘You don't call us any more, Javier, so I have to seek you out and force you into face-to-face meetings.’
‘I'm not avoiding you,’ said Falcón. ‘I'm just busy.’
‘Not helped by having to drive out to Osuna this afternoon.’
‘Are you following him or me?’
‘Him, of course,’ said Pablo.
‘You
don't represent a threat.’
‘Nor does Yacoub,’ said Falcón, who briefed Pablo on his ‘rogue’ agent's mental state and his resignation to a future of long-term dissimulation.
‘Agents like Yacoub have to go through this phase,’ said Pablo. ‘We're trained for it in the service and plenty of people fall at that fence. This isn't a game that you pack up and put away. It's not suspended reality, like a good novel or a great film. It's a whole life to lead in a certain way and very few people are suited to it. And even those who are suited to it necessarily go through this … well, it's almost a grieving process, I suppose. Saying farewell to the simple life involves anger, despair, sorrow, anxiety, depression … all those emotions that we associate with the loss of something or someone important to us. And the only way out of it is to replace it with something that gives us purpose.’
‘And what happens to people like Yacoub when this purpose he's so carefully cultivated disappears?’
‘Do you mean … been accomplished?’
‘That's the easier question to answer,’ said Falcón. ‘What I mean is that
now
he is setting out with this new resolve,
but he is just one man, surrounded by numerous enemies. He will be constantly tested. He's already resigned himself to the loss of his family. Now all he has is his purpose, which, given the need for constant pretence and lying, must inevitably get whittled away.’
‘Inevitably?’
‘Because we're not talking about a job, Pablo. This isn't professionalism, acumen, or managerial skill. This is about who you are.’
‘Soul, you mean?’ said Pablo, smiling.
‘Yes, that probably is what I mean … if I could be certain what “soul” was. But whatever it is, it needs nourishment, and that normally comes from the people around you, who you love, and who love you. That's finished for Yacoub. So it's a question of how long his “soul” can last on a nourishment of, say, revenge.’
‘A long time.’
‘Until you go mad,’ said Falcón, falling back in his chair, suddenly tired of all this dialogue. Where did it get him? Words and language had such constraints, as their use of the word ‘soul’ had just demonstrated.
‘Do you know where his son is?’ asked Falcón.
‘He's still in London.’
‘What's he doing there?’
‘What you'd expect any kid of his age to be doing,’ said Pablo. ‘Eating out. Bars. Night clubs. MI5 even sent some of their girls to talk to him. They danced all night, had a great time.’
‘Not exactly Islamic behaviour from Abdullah.’
‘He has his cover,’ said Pablo. ‘Even the 9/11 terrorists went to bars, drank beers and talked to girls.’
‘Is that all he's doing? No other … activity?’
‘Six months is the minimum we'd expect for an agent of his age to become active,’ said Pablo. ‘It would make MI5's job a lot easier if they knew Abdullah's proposed target.’
‘There
is
no target any more,’ said Falcón. ‘This was all a test of Yacoub's loyalty to the cause.’
‘Once a target, always a target,’ said Pablo. ‘If Yacoub and his target are out of danger, you shouldn't mind telling us.’
‘We didn't discuss that.’
‘What
did
you discuss?’
‘He said he was going to help me find Consuelo's son.’
‘How can he help you with that?’
‘Because I think the GICM have got him,’ said Falcón, and regretted saying it instantly.
‘They would only kidnap Darío to put pressure on you,’ said Pablo, coming fully into the office for the first time, his curiosity piqued. ‘Why would they want to do that?’
‘The kidnapper said I would “recognize” it,’ said Falcón. ‘In other words, I would see the similarity between Darío, a son of Raúl Jiménez, being abducted, and Arturo, another son – now known as Yacoub – also having been kidnapped thirty years ago when he was a similar age. The caller said we would never hear from them again, which was something that happened in the original Arturo case, too.’
‘That's in your personal context,’ said Pablo. ‘I'm interested in what it means in
our
context.’
‘That's the point, though: it's meant to be personal.’
‘But why? I don't understand why, even on a personal level,’ said Pablo. ‘What is the point? You're not even sure yourself, are you? I mean, I can see the similarities between Arturo/Yacoub and Darío, in that they share the same father, but I don't see the motive.’
‘Apart from putting pressure on my relationship with Yacoub?’ said Falcón.
‘That hasn't worked. You seemed to be closer than ever in Osuna, according to our surveillance.’
‘What about: he's punishing Yacoub by recruiting his son, and he's punishing me by taking Darío, the closest I've ever come to having a son?’
‘“He”? Who is “he”?’
‘I mean the GICM.’
‘Do you know “him”?’ asked Pablo, suddenly suspicious. ‘The person who is doing this?’
‘No. How could I?’
BOOK: The Ignorance of Blood
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