16

BARCELONA

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DIEGO VEGA KNOCKED loudly and then stepped back to wait.

“What d’you want?” The woman who answered the door kept it on the chain and opened it just wide enough to ask the question.

“I’m looking for your husband, Mrs Nunez,” Vega said.

“He’s not here,” Rosie Nunez replied. “He’s out doing business.”

“I’m aware of that,” Vega said. “But nobody seems to know where I can find him, and he isn’t answering the number I have for him. Nor has he replied to the message I left on his answerphone.”

“What d’you want with Pablo?” Rosie Nunez asked suspiciously. “You a cop?”

“No, my name is Diego Vega, and I need to speak to your husband urgently. He may have done business with someone I need to locate.”

The change that came over Rosie Nunez when she heard his name was immediate and dramatic. “Please, come in, Mr Vega,” she said in a much more polite tone as she slipped off the chain and opened the door. “I’ll call Pablo for you and tell him you need to talk to him.”

“I have already called your husband, several times,” Vega said as he stepped into the apartment. “He hasn’t answered.”

“That was probably his business phone,” Rosie Nunez said. “He tends to ignore calls on it if it’s someone he doesn’t want to talk to, or he doesn’t recognise the number. He’s very cautious.”

“That would probably be it. I’ve never had occasion to contact your husband before, so he wouldn’t have a reason to know my number,” Vega said, keen not to give Rosie Nunez cause to worry and warn her husband away.

**

“HERE HE IS.” ROSIE Nunez sighed in relief when she heard the apartment door open. “What took you so long?” she demanded the moment her husband reached the living room.

“I was finishing up a deal,” Pablo Nunez told his wife irritably. “Since I’m the only one of us that works, I can’t afford to break off a deal halfway through. You understand the need to finish one deal before you move on to the next, don’t you, Mr Vega,” he said.

“It is good business sense,” Vega said. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” he asked.

“Into the kitchen,” Pablo ordered his wife. “You can get to work on dinner while we talk business in here. Close the door behind you, and don’t come out ‘til I call you.”

Vega expected Rosie Nunez to object to being ordered about in such a peremptory fashion after how she had spoken to her husband when he arrived. She didn’t, though. Meekly, she got to her feet and made her way into the kitchen.

“Right, how can I help you, Mr Vega?” Pablo asked once they were alone. “Dare I hope you want to change your weapons supplier?”

“I’m after information, not weapons,” Vega said. “I need to know if you have sold weapons to anyone new in the last few days. I’m especially interested in whether you have dealt with any foreigners.”

“No,” Pablo said without hesitation. “I never deal with people I don’t know, not unless they’re recommended by someone I do know. I haven’t dealt with anyone new in the last three months.”

Vega studied Pablo Nunez for a moment, gauging whether he was telling the truth. “Have you heard about any foreigners, most likely French, trying to buy weapons?” he asked finally. He knew it was possible that Noir’s hit team, which was who he was trying to find, might have brought weapons with them, but he had to explore all possibilities in his search.

“No.” Pablo shook his head reluctantly. He wished he could help Diego Vega. Helping Roberto Abrantes’ number one man would put him in good with the most powerful criminal organisation in the city, which was bound to be good for his business. “What’s this all about?” he asked, hoping the question wouldn’t cause offence.

“There is a small group of foreigners, most likely French, who are either in the city already or will be here soon. They wish to cause trouble, and Mr Abrantes would prefer that they weren’t given the opportunity,” Vega explained. “If you hear anything, please call me, Mr Abrantes is offering a reward to anyone who helps locate the people he is looking for.”

“I’ll talk to my contacts and make sure they’ve got their ears to the ground. If they hear anything, or I do, I’ll let you know,” Pablo promised. He was sure Diego Vega had access to more sources than he did, but it was always possible that his own sources might discover something useful. If they did, he was sure it would be good for him. “Have you talked to Fernando Senna?” he asked.

“Yes. I spoke to him this morning.” The moment he had been given the job of finding Noir’s hit squad, Vega had called the man who supplied Roberto Abrantes’ organisation with weapons. It was a call that had accomplished nothing, except to remove Fernando Senna as a potential source of weapons for Noir’s men. “I guess I’ll have to look elsewhere for the information I’m after.” He had people scouring the city, but he still had to do some of the work himself, which he wasn’t happy about. It was too much like doing police work.

“What about Ruiz Battista?” Pablo asked. “Have you checked with him? I’ve heard he’ll sell weapons to anyone. Doesn’t care who they are or what they have planned, so long as they have the money to pay him.”

“Ruiz Battista?” Vega asked. He had never heard of the man, which he found strange, since he would have expected to hear about someone new selling weapons in the city, as he heard about everything major that happened. How a new arms dealer had managed to set up shop without him being aware of it was something he intended looking into when he had a chance. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“I’m not surprised. He only started up about a month ago.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“I’ll write the address down for you.” Pablo got to his feet so he could find a pen and a piece of paper. “He does business from a liquor store, so I’ve been told. You might want to take a couple of guys with you. Apparently, he’s a rough character with an attitude problem, and he keeps a couple of thugs around for protection.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Diego took the slip of paper with the address and stuffed it in his pocket.

**

“THIS IS THE PLACE, sir.”

Vega thanked his driver and got out.

It was immediately clear that Ruiz Battista was someone comfortable amongst the lowest of the low. Half the shops in the street were either out of business or had boarded up windows, and of those that were still in business, only one of them was still open at that time of the evening. That one being in the shop he was there to visit.

The only people he could see was a gang of teenagers loitering outside the liquor store. They were desperately trying to look tough, but far from intimidating him they only succeeded in amusing him with their posturing and tough-talking.

When he reached the door of the shop he turned to face the gang, who were eyeing his Mercedes like a pack of hyenas closing in on a wounded antelope. “I wouldn’t even think about it,” he said in a conversational tone, offering a brief glimpse of the gun he carried in case the two men behind him weren’t enough to convince the gang not to touch his car.

Vega looked around as he entered the liquor store. There was only one customer, a lady who looked years older than he suspected she really was, and he waited for her to pay for the bottle of cheap wine she had selected and leave before he made his way to the counter.

“I’m looking for Ruiz Battista,” he said once he was alone with the cashier, and his two bodyguards.

“What d’you want with him?” the cashier asked suspiciously.

“I have business to discuss with him,” Vega said, ignoring the way the cashier scrutinised him, presumably for some indication that he might be a cop.

“Does he know you?”

“He probably knows my name, it’s Diego Vega.” The mention of his name brought an immediate look of recognition and respect, which he was pleased to see.

“Please wait here, I’ll be right back.” Almost falling off his stool in his haste, the cashier got up and made for the back of the shop, where he disappeared through a door.

He returned a couple of minutes later. “Follow me please. Your men will have to wait here,” he said apologetically when they entered a storeroom filled with shelf upon shelf of cheap alcohol, where two men stood guard in front of a door.

Vega looked from his men to the two who were clearly there to protect Battista’s business and decided that he had the advantage, physically speaking at least. His men were bigger, both in height and in muscle, and he felt confident that if it came to a fight, things would go his way.

In a whisper, he instructed his men in what he expected of them. He had a feeling that his meeting with Battista was not going to go well, and he wanted to be sure his men knew what to do if there was any sign of trouble.

His instructions given, Diego followed the cashier past Battista’s thugs and through the door. Beyond was another door, which he guessed led outside, and two flights of stairs, one leading up and the other down. He was surprised when he was led up the stairs to the floor above the shop, rather than down to the basement.

Uncertain what to expect, and unsure if Battista had more men with him, Diego kept his hand on the mobile phone in his pocket. At the first sign of trouble he was ready to send an alarm signal to his men.

“I’m told you’re an important man in this city, Mr Vega,” Ruiz Battista said once Vega had taken the empty seat in the office. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m after some information,” Vega told him.

“I deal in weapons, not information. If you want information, I suggest you try Google.” Battista ignored the cashier from the moment he entered the room to the moment he left, focusing instead on the man he had been warned about.

Vega settled himself more comfortably on the chair, which wasn’t easy for it was a cheap, plastic thing. “I assume you aren’t fully aware of who I am, Mr Battista, and that is why you don’t feel inclined to help me.”

“I know enough. You’re supposed to be important and someone I should pay attention to. I don’t give a damn who you are or who you work for, though. Unless you want to buy weapons from me, we’ve got nothing to discuss.”

The response didn’t surprise Vega, he had taken the man’s measure and figured he wasn’t likely to be cooperative. He had to persist, though, since that was what Roberto Abrantes would expect of him.

“My employer is looking for information, and it is in your best interests to cooperate.” He rubbed his finger over the send button on his phone as he spoke. “Mr Abrantes, whom I represent, is looking for a Frenchman, or a group of Frenchmen. They may be in the city already, or they may be arriving soon, we aren’t sure. What we are sure of is that they are coming here to cause trouble, and they will almost certainly be in need of weapons. I have spoken to the other two weapons dealers in the city, and they have assured me that they have not sold weapons to anyone from France recently, nor will they. That just leaves you. Mr Abrantes would like to know anything you can tell me about anyone from France you may have sold weapons to in the past week. If you haven’t sold weapons to anyone from France, he would like an assurance from you that you won’t, should any such person approach you.”

“Roberto Abrantes can go screw himself,” Battista said harshly, leaning forward abruptly, his hands on the desk in front of him. “I don’t give a damn who he is, nobody tells me how to run my business. I’ll sell weapons to whoever the hell I want, whether they’re French, Spanish, or bloody Martian. If they’ve got the money, I’ve got the weapons, and I sure as hell won’t tell anyone who’s been buying from me.”

“It would be a mistake not to help Mr Abrantes with this matter,” Vega said, continuing to speak calmly, though he tightened his grip on the phone in his pocket. “Mr Abrantes runs this city, and he can make life very difficult for you if he chooses to. He can even end your business if he wants to.”

“Ricky, Ding, get the hell up here, right now!” Battista yelled. “You get the hell out of here, you prick. Nobody threatens my business, especially in my own shop.”

Vega could hear feet thundering up the stairs towards him as he hurriedly sent an alert to his men, though he was certain they would have already realised there was trouble. His certainty was rewarded when he heard three shots in quick succession and saw a look of concern cross Battista’s face.

Battista yanked open the top drawer of his desk. Vega was quicker, though, and had his gun pointed at Battista before he could reach his own weapon.

“I think you might want to reconsider your decision not to cooperate,” Diego said as his men burst into the room, their weapons at the ready and their eyes darting to every corner, searching for trouble.

“Screw you!” Battista swore defiantly. “If you think this is the way to get my help, you’re tapped in the head. I don’t give a damn about your boss, or what those French guys are here to do, I didn’t ask, it’s none of my business. I just sell weapons and keep my mouth shut. That’s what keeps people coming back.”

“So you know something about them,” Vega said, certain the slip meant he had found someone with the information he was after. “I suggest you tell me what you know about the men you dealt with, everything you know. I want names, descriptions, plans, what they bought, where they’re staying.”

“Screw you!”

“I guess you really don’t want to do this the easy way,” Vega said with a regretful sigh. “Take him down to the basement,” he told his men. He figured that any noise made in the process of getting the information he was after would be better contained down there. “Where’s the cashier?”

“He ran off the moment he realised there was going to be trouble,” Esteban said as he and Julio grabbed Ruiz Battista, who struggled in vain to free himself from their grip.

“How helpful of you to have soundproofed this place,” Vega remarked to Battista as he looked around the cellar below the shop.

Not only had the room been soundproofed, it had been reinforced, making it resemble a small arsenal with the variety of weapons on display around the walls.

“It will stop us having to worry about disturbing anyone. Now, would you care to change your mind about cooperating?” he asked as his men secured their prisoner to a chair and made preparations.

For answer, Battista spat in Vega’s face and snapped, “Screw you!”

Vega’s sigh was almost theatrical. “I hate stupid behaviour. You will tell me what you know, Mr Battista, it’s just a question of how much pain you have to endure before you do.”

**

IT TOOK AN HOUR FOR Vega and his men to extract all the information Ruiz Battista had, most of which time was spent with Battista refusing to cooperate, and by the end of that time he had been reduced to a blubbering, bleeding wreck.

“Are you absolutely certain that is everything you know?” Vega asked one final time as he got to his feet to look down on the moaning and quivering figure tied to the chair before him.

He had seen enough violence over the years that the sight of Battista’s injuries didn’t bother him. His only thought was that if the man had cooperated he would not have suffered so badly.

“Yes,” Battista mumbled through the pain.

“In that case we are finished here. I guess I should do the humane thing and put you out of your misery.”

Taking out his gun, Vega placed the muzzle against Battista’s head and pulled the trigger. The body jerked and twitched for a moment before becoming still.