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They spent the first few minutes in the van putting on their bulletproof vests. After doing that, everybody sat down in silence, staring resolutely at the floor, as if the space between their feet was the most interesting thing in the world.
The rumour had already spread amongst all of the men, but not one of them dared to say anything whilst in the presence of the sergeant. They were about to arrest one of their colleagues for the brutal murder of three women. Every so often, one of the men would raise his head and look around, focussing on all of the details, in a futile attempt to find any indication that the whole thing was not real.
In less than ten minutes, they arrived at the indicated address. When the back doors to the van were opened, Carlos was the first to jump out. Several other backup patrol cars had already arrived and were surrounding the building. They had not turned on the sirens, but they did have the flashing lights. If Roberto had taken a look out of the window at any point during the last few minutes, he would already be forewarned that it was game over for him; that they were coming for him. Carlos felt uncomfortable and worried. If Roberto was feeling cornered, that could make things very dangerous. Carlos would have put himself on the line for one any of his colleagues if he had been told that they were at risk of being shot, but it seemed that recent events insisted on saying that he was wrong. Roberto had killed those women; he had burnt their hands and faces in order to hinder the investigation; he had left those secret messages that proved how crazy he was... They had been partners, but he did not know him at all.
Carlos positioned himself in front of a detachment of four men and, with their weapons in their hands, they headed towards the building whilst the rest of their colleagues covered them. During the course of that journey, he felt all of his nerves bristle. At any moment, a window on the third floor could open and a rain of bullets could begin to fall over them.
When he arrived at the main door to the building, he allowed himself to breathe again. An officer was standing guard over it, and keeping it open. They went in one by one, aiming all around them. They began climbing the stairs, trying to make the least amount of noise possible. To Carlos, it felt as though each one of their footsteps created echoes in the stairwell; that their breathing could be heard several floors up from where they were...
Upon arriving on the third floor, he positioned himself in front of the door whilst his colleagues situated themselves behind him with their weapons at the ready. Carlos swallowed with difficulty, rang the doorbell several times, and then banged hard on the door twice.
‘Roberto Azkarraga,’ he called out loud. ‘Ertzaintza homicide department! We’ve come to arrest you. Open the door and come out with your hands up.’
They waited a few seconds, not lowering their handguns. Carlos felt as though that wait went on for eternity. He focused all of his senses on trying to perceive any noise or movement that could come out of the dwelling, but he got nothing. When he could no longer take it anymore, he went back to banging on the door.
‘Roberto! We know you’re there. Don’t make this more difficult for us. Open the door.’
They went back to waiting in silence. Carlos heard a couple of coughs behind him, the movement of feet, murmurs... The three men were beginning to get nervous. The longer Roberto drew out that tension, the greater the possibility he would have of ending up with a bullet between the eyes. Carlos turned towards the waiting men and shrugged his shoulders.
‘Well, he asked for it. We’re going in. Have you brought the battering ram?’
A couple of men stepped forward and struck the door, which gave way on the third attack. Before them, they could make out a dark and deserted hallway. Carlos signalled with his head, and the men went in and proceeded to spread out through the rooms.
‘Kitchen clear,’ he heard one of the men call out.
‘Room clear.’
‘Room clear.’
He went inside and down the hallway, his pistol in front of him and his finger on the trigger. At the end of the corridor he could make out a living room. The morning light was coming in through the half-open windows, illuminating the room. Even so, he could not discern anybody. When he arrived at the door, he froze. There was Roberto, sitting at a desk. He was leaning forwards, with his head resting on it, as if he had fallen asleep as he was writing. Carlos waited a few seconds, aiming at him with the gun, but did not detect the slightest movement. He then advanced towards him and, very carefully, and not taking his aim off him, he placed two fingers on the side of his neck. The skin was cold, and he did not detect any sign of a pulse.
‘He’s here,’ he called out in order to alert his colleagues.
He heard hurried footsteps down the hallway. In less than three seconds, they were all in the living room, aiming their weapons at Roberto’s body.
‘Don’t worry. There’s no danger.’
Without saying anything more, he took his mobile out of his pocket, unlocked it, and searched for Aguirre’s number. The sergeant answered before the first ring had even ended.
‘Aguirre, you can come up... Yes, we’ve found him. Send for a forensics team. He’s dead.’
*****
Half an hour later, Natalia arrived at Roberto’s building. There were more police cars with the lights flashing, and a police cordon that encircled the area, behind which there was starting to be a growing jumble of journalists and curious neighbours.
She got out of the car, picked up her workbag, and, after showing her ID, she crossed the cordon. An officer accompanied her up to the third floor. Upon reaching the landing, she found Carlos speaking with a woman who was dressed in a plush dressing gown and rabbit-shaped slippers.
‘I don’t care whether you got on really well with your neighbour. I’m telling you that you can’t go into the flat. We’re in the middle of a police investigation,’ Carlos was saying, trying to keep a calm tone.
‘But I used to go in many times. I’d bring him croquettes and rice pudding, which he loved. I know exactly how all the things in that flat are arranged. If you let me in, I’ll be able to tell you whether anyone’s moved anything,’ insisted the woman.
‘I really do appreciate your cooperation, madam, but nobody can go inside until a medical examiner verifies the death and the external examination is carried out.’ Carlos turned towards Natalia and smiled, as if she were an angel sent from heaven to save him. ‘And speaking of the medical examiner, here she is. We have to allow her to do her job, madam.’
‘She’s the one who’s going to verify whether he’s dead? I could do that myself, too.’
‘I don’t doubt that, madam, but I have a license that allows me to do it, and you don’t,’ replied Natalia, sharply. ‘If you will allow me.’
Natalia went inside the flat, and Carlos followed her. As they proceeded down the hallway, they continued to hear the neighbour’s complaints.
‘That was pretty damn harsh how you spoke to that poor woman,’ laughed Carlos. ‘Are you in a bad mood?’
‘Although it may seem strange for my profession, it never puts me in a good mood having to go to a crime scene.’
‘I understand. Nobody likes extra work.’
‘Don’t be moronic. Besides, he was a colleague. I knew him.’
‘Yes, but not one of us liked him,’ Carlos pointed out.
‘It’s a shame there’s no Nobel Prize for insensitivity, because you’d win it hands down.’ Natalia shook her head, hopelessly. ‘Where is the body?’
‘In the living room, at the end of the hall.’
They went into the living room, and the police officers present moved aside so that they could get to the desk. Roberto was still in the same position. It seemed that nobody had touched him. Natalia opened her workbag, took out a pair of gloves and some evidence bags, and went up to the body.
Next to Roberto’s head, she found a white and green box with an empty blister pack alongside a glass of water. She picked up the packet and showed it to Carlos.
‘Luminal. It seems he’s taken all of them.’
‘Could it be the cause of death?’
‘I would wager yes. Are there signs of a struggle or violence in any part of the flat?
‘No, everything’s in order and the door wasn’t forced. Everything points to it being a suicide.’
‘Natalia nodded and went closer to the body. After checking his pulse again, she turned towards Carlos.
‘There’s something on the desk, underneath his head.’ Natalia pointed towards a piece of paper that poked out on one side. ‘Will you help me move him a little?’
Carlos nodded, went over to her, and, taking hold of Roberto by the shoulders, pulled on him so that his head lifted. Natalia extracted the piece of paper and signalled to him that he could put the body back in the same position.
‘What’s on it?’ asked Carlos.
Natalia showed it to him. The letters were very large and took up the entire page. There was only one note: Dt 22:22.
‘Damn, one of his little messages,’ commented Carlos.
‘Yes, let’s see what it means.’
Natalia left the piece of paper on the desk, took out her mobile phone, and, after opening the browser, typed in the message. After a few seconds, the result appeared:
‘It pertains to Deuteronomy.’
‘To what?’ asked Carlos.
‘It’s one of the books from The Old Testament,’ explained Natalia. ‘Let’s see what the verse says: “If a man is found lying with the wife of another man, both of them shall die, the man who lay with the woman, and the woman. So you shall purge the evil from Israel.”’
‘Wow, I think we can consider this as a confession.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Natalia, ‘and as his suicide note.’