ARIADNA KNEW THIS was the day she was going to die. She knew the moment she woke up in the suite of the Gran Hotel Palace and opened her eyes to discover that one of Leandro’s minions had left a parcel on the desk while she was asleep. It was tied with a ribbon. She pulled aside the sheets and staggered to the table. It was a large white box with the word PERTEGAZ inscribed on it in gold letters. Beneath the ribbon was an envelope with her name handwritten on it. When she opened it, she found a large card:
Dear Ariadna,
Today is the day when you can finally be reunited with your sister. I thought you’d like to look your best and celebrate that at last justice will be done, and you’ll never again have to fear anything or anyone. I hope you like it, I chose it personally for you.
Yours,
Leandro
Ariadna caressed the edges of the box before opening it. For a second she imagined a poisonous snake creeping up its side, ready to leap onto her neck the moment she lifted the lid. The inside was covered with soft tissue paper. She removed the first layer and found a complete set of underwear in white silk, stockings included. Beneath the underwear was an ivory-coloured wool dress, with shoes and a bag to match. And a scarf. Leandro was sending her to her death dressed as a virgin.
She washed herself on her own, with no help from the nurses. Then she slowly put on the garments Leandro had chosen for the last day of her life and looked at herself in the mirror. All she needed was the white coffin and the crucifix in her hands. She sat down to wait, wondering how many white virgins had been purified in that luxurious cell before her, how many luxury Pertegaz boxes Leandro had ordered to say goodbye to his damsels with a kiss on their forehead.
She didn’t have to wait long. Barely half an hour later she heard the sound of the key slipping into the lock. The mechanism gave way softly, and the kind doctor, with his friendly face of the trusted family surgeon, poked his head around the door with that docile, compassionate smile that always accompanied him, like his bagful of wonders.
“Good morning, Ariadna. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Very well. Thank you, Doctor.”
He slowly drew closer, leaving the bag on the table. “You’re looking very pretty and elegant. I hear this is a big day for you.”
“Yes. Today I’m going to be reunited with my family.”
“That’s wonderful. Family is what really matters in life. Señor Leandro has asked me to offer you his deepest apologies for not being able to greet you personally. An urgent matter has cropped up, and he’ll be away temporarily. I’ll let him know you looked splendid.”
“Thanks.”
“Shall we administer a tonic to give you a bit more strength?”
Ariadna stretched out her naked arm submissively. The doctor smiled, opened his bag, and pulled out a leather pouch that he unrolled over the table. Ariadna recognized the twelve numbered bottles attached with elastic bands, and the metallic box for the hypodermic syringe.
The doctor leaned over her and took her arm delicately. “If I may.”
He began to feel her skin, which was covered in the marks and bruises of countless injections. While he explored the front of her forearm, her wrist, the space between her knuckles, and tapped the skin gently, he smiled at her. Ariadna looked into his eyes and lifted the skirt of her dress to reveal her thighs. There were also needle marks there, but farther apart.
“If you like you can prick me here.”
The doctor affected a show of utmost modesty and nodded discreetly. “Thank you. I think it will be better.”
She observed him as he prepared the injection. He’d chosen the bottle marked number nine. She’d never seen him choose that bottle before. Once the syringe was ready, the doctor searched for a spot on the inside of her left thigh, right above the top of the new silk stocking she’d just pulled on.
“It might hurt a bit at first, and you might feel the cold. It will only be for a few seconds.”
Ariadna watched the doctor as with concentration he drew the needle to her skin. When the point was one centimetre from her thigh, she spoke.
“You didn’t use the cotton wool with alcohol today, Doctor.”
The man looked up briefly in surprise, and smiled hesitantly.
“Do you have daughters, Doctor?”
“Two, God bless them. Señor Leandro is their godfather.”
It happened in barely a second. Before the doctor had finished uttering those words and could return to his task, Ariadna grabbed his hand powerfully and thrust the needle into his throat. A bewildered look flooded the eyes of the good doctor. His arms fell to his sides, and he began to shake, the syringe stuck in his neck. The solution became tinted with blood. Ariadna held his gaze, gripped the syringe, and emptied its contents into his jugular vein. The doctor opened his mouth without uttering a sound and fell on his knees. She sat down again on the chair and watched him die. He took two or three minutes.
Then she leaned over him, pulled out the syringe, and wiped the blood off on his jacket lapel. She put the syringe back in its metal box, returned the bottle marked with a 9 to its place, and folded the leather pouch. Kneeling beside the body, she found a wallet from which she took a dozen or so hundred-peseta notes. She donned the beautiful jacket that came with the dress and the matching hat. Finally, she picked up the keys the doctor had left on the table, the pouch with the bottles, and the syringe, and put them inside the white handbag. She tied the scarf around her neck and, carrying the bag under her arm, opened the bedroom door.
The suite’s sitting room was empty. A vase full of white roses rested on the table where she had shared so many breakfasts with Leandro. She walked over to the door. It was locked. One by one she tried the doctor’s keys until she found the one that opened it. The corridor, a wide carpeted gallery flanked by paintings and statues, reminded her of a large luxury cruiser. It was deserted. The echo of background music and the hum of a vacuum cleaner in a nearby suite floated in the air. Ariadna walked slowly. She passed an open door with a cleaning cart and saw a maid picking up towels inside. When she reached the hallway with the elevators, she met a smartly dressed middle-aged couple, who stopped speaking the moment they noticed her.
“Good morning,” said Ariadna.
The couple replied with a small nod, keeping their eyes glued to the floor. They waited in silence. When the doors of the elevator opened at last, the gentleman allowed Ariadna in and received a steely look from his companion. They began the descent. The lady examined her out of the corner of her eye, sizing her up and circling around her clothes like a bird of prey. Ariadna smiled at her politely, and the lady replied with a cold, cutting smile. “You look like Evita,” she said.
The caustic tone made it clear that the appreciation had not been a compliment. Ariadna simply looked down modestly. When the doors opened onto the ground floor, the couple didn’t move until she’d walked out.
“Probably an expensive tart,” she heard the gentleman behind her murmur.
The hotel foyer was packed. Ariadna noticed a boutique with luxury items a few yards away and took refuge there. Seeing her come in, an obliging sales assistant looked her up and down, and once she’d estimated the cost of what she was wearing, smiled at her as if she were an old friend. Five minutes later Ariadna left the shop sporting a pair of Dior sunglasses that covered half her face, her lips lit up with the most garish pink lipstick she had been able to find. Only a few accessories separate the virgin from the luxury courtesan.
This is how she walked down the wide stairs leading to the exit, pulling on her gloves as she felt the eyes of guests, concierges and other hotel staff taking an X-ray of every detail of her body. Slowly, she told herself. When she reached the main door, she stopped, and the doorman who held it open for her looked at her with a mixture of greed and complicity.
“A taxi, gorgeous?”