IT WAS AFTER midnight when Vargas opened his eyes and found Alicia sitting in a chair next to him, wrapped in a blanket, staring at him in the darkened room.
“You look like a vampire,” he managed to say. “How long have you been there?”
“A while.”
“I should have warned you that I snore.”
“I don’t mind. With those pills I wouldn’t hear an earthquake.”
Vargas sat up and rubbed his face. “If you don’t mind my saying so, this sofa is dreadful.”
“I don’t have much of an eye for furniture. I’ll buy some new cushions. Any colour preference?”
“As it’s for you, black with a pattern of spiders, or skulls and crossbones.”
“Did you have any dinner?”
“I ate enough food for a whole week. How are you feeling?”
Alicia shrugged. “Embarrassed.”
“I can’t see why. How’s the pain?”
“Better. Much better.”
“Why don’t you go back to bed and sleep a bit longer?”
“I’ve got to call Leandro.”
“At this time of night?”
“Leandro doesn’t sleep.”
“Speaking of vampires . . .”
“If I don’t call him, it will be worse.”
“Do you want me to go out to the corridor?”
“No,” said Alicia, but she’d paused a shade too long.
Vargas nodded. “Look, I’ll go down to my luxurious rooms on the other side of the street to have a shower and change my clothes, and then I’ll come back.”
“There’s no need, Vargas. You’ve done enough for me tonight. Go and get some rest – we’re going to have a long day tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.”
He looked at her, somewhat unconvinced.
Alicia smiled at him. “I’ll be all right. I promise.”
“Do you have the revolver at hand?”
“I’ll sleep with it as if it were my new teddy bear.”
“You’ve never had a teddy bear. A little devil, perhaps . . .”
Alicia gave him one of those smiles of hers, the kind that opened doors and melted willpower. Vargas lowered his eyes.
“All right, then. Call the prince of darkness and tell him your little secrets,” he said on his way out. “And lock the door tight.”
“Vargas?”
The policeman stopped in the doorway.
“Thanks.”
“Stop thanking me for nothing.”
*
She waited while the policeman’s footsteps trailed away down the stairs and then picked up the telephone. Before dialling, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The direct line to the suite didn’t answer. Alicia knew that Leandro kept other rooms at the Gran Hotel Palace, although she had never wanted to ask what he used them for. She called reception.
The night operator was familiar with Alicia’s voice, and didn’t even have to ask whom she was calling. “One moment, Señorita Gris.” Even at that time of night, she hadn’t lost her musical singsong. “I’ll put you through to Señor Montalvo.”
The phone rang only once before the receiver was lifted at the other end. Alicia imagined Leandro sitting in the dark somewhere in the hotel, gazing down at Plaza de Neptuno or looking at the Madrid sky awash with black clouds, awaiting daybreak.
“Alicia,” he said slowly, no tone whatsoever in his voice. “I thought you weren’t going to call.”
“I apologize. I had an episode.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you better?”
“I’m fine.”
“Is Vargas with you?”
“I’m alone.”
“Everything all right with him?”
“Yes. There’s no problem.”
“If you want me to get rid of him, I could . . .”
“There’s no need. I almost prefer to have him handy, just in case.”
A pause. In Leandro’s pauses there was no breathing, no sound whatsoever. “You’re unrecognizable, if you don’t mind the observation. Anyhow, I’m glad you two get along. I thought that perhaps you wouldn’t quite mesh, given his personal history . . .”
“What history?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
“When you say that, that’s when I really get worried.”
“Didn’t he tell you about his family?”
“We don’t speak about personal matters.”
“In that case, I don’t want to be the one who—”
“What’s the matter with his family?”
There was another of Leandro’s pauses. Alicia could almost imagine him smiling and licking his lips.
“Vargas lost his wife and his daughter in a traffic accident about three years ago. He was drunk at the wheel. His daughter was your age. He’s been through rough times. He was almost thrown out of the Force.”
Alicia didn’t reply. She could hear Leandro’s breathing.
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.”
“I suppose he prefers not to stir up the past. At any rate, I hope there won’t be a problem.”
“What problem could there be?”
“Alicia, you know I never meddle in your personal life, although by God I sometimes find it hard to understand your tastes and particular preferences.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
She bit her lip and swallowed the words burning in her mouth. “There won’t be any problem,” she said at last.
“Excellent. Now tell me, what have you got for me?”
Alicia took a deep breath and clenched her fist so firmly she sank her nails into her skin. When she began her account, her voice had returned to the docile and melodic tone she had learned to cultivate in her dealings with Leandro.
*
During the next few minutes she summed up the events that had taken place since their last conversation. Her narrative had no colour and no detail; she just listed all the steps she had taken, without offering the reasons or hunches that had led her to take them. When it came to omissions, most noteworthy was the bit about the theft of the Víctor Mataix book from her home the night before. As he usually did, Leandro listened patiently, without interrupting.
Once she’d finished, Alicia fell silent, taking in Leandro’s long pause as he digested her report.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not telling me everything?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve left out anything relevant.”
“To conclude, the search of the car that was allegedly used for – let’s call it the getaway – provides no final evidence beyond a few signs of non-fatal violence and a supposed list of numbers that we can’t link to anything and that possibly has no connection with the case. On the other hand, we continue with your insistence on the matter of the book by this man called Mataix, a line of enquiry that I worry will lead only to a series of fascinating bibliographical mysteries of zero use in finding Mauricio Valls.”
“Any news about the official police investigation?” asked Alicia, hoping to shift the course of the conversation.
“There’s no relevant news, and there isn’t expected to be any. Suffice it to say that some don’t look kindly on the fact that we’ve been invited to the party, even if it was through the back door.”
“Is that why I’m being watched?”
“For that reason, and because they probably can’t believe that we will, of course, be pleased to see our friends in the police take all the glory and medals the day we find the minister safe and sound, and hand him over to them, tied up with a red bow.”
“If we find him, that is.”
“Is your lack of faith a simple affectation, or have you kept something from me?”
“I only meant that it’s difficult to find someone who might not want to be found.”
“Let’s give ourselves the benefit of the doubt and set aside the possible wishes of the minister. Or those of our colleagues at police headquarters. That’s why I recommend a certain amount of prudence when it comes to Vargas. Loyalty is a habit that doesn’t change in one day.”
“We can trust Vargas.”
“Said the woman who doesn’t even trust herself. I’m not saying anything that you don’t already know.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. Anything else?”
“Call me.”
Alicia was about to wish Leandro a good night when she realized that, once again, he had already hung up.