Revenge in Barcelona

by Kathryn Lane

  “Ancient civilizations always saw a rabbit in the moon, Nikki, but most people now see a man. Hold it,” Eduardo said, suddenly changing to a whisper. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Did you see something move behind those bushes?”

  “Probably a wild animal or a dog from the town.”

  “Could have been your rabbit. Might have jumped from the moon to the bushes,” he said.

  They laughed. Eduardo led her to a rock outcropping that overlooked the town lights below. She leaned against a waist-high stone and raved about the sights they had seen in historic Burgos that afternoon.

  “There are places where I could move to in a flash. This town is one of them,” she said. She sounded joyful.

  “So, Señora Duarte, you’d like to move here?” Eduardo asked. He relaxed against her body. “Maybe you can convince me to move here with you.”

  “It will be a pleasure to persuade you, Señor Duarte,” she said, nibbling on his ear.

  Eduardo pecked lightly at Nikki’s neck, then ran his tongue along her collarbone up to her chin. He resumed nibbling the silky skin of her face, seeking her mouth. As he kissed her on the lips, she responded with passion. He stopped to pick Nikki up and eased her onto the flat surface of the boulder. She grabbed a handful of his hair as he positioned her on the smooth area of the rock. She laughed. With outstretched legs, she encircled his body and pulled him in close to her. Their bodies intertwined in an impassioned embrace as he slipped his hands under Nikki’s loose-fitting blouse and caressed her breasts.

  In daylight, a lone figure would have been seen following Nikki and Eduardo. But it was dark. Taiwo had hidden behind a tree about twenty paces away. He leaned on his walking stick as he watched them. Thinking he might be able to throw them from the outcropping or otherwise cause an “accidental” death before they realized what was happening, he moved from his hiding place closer to them. But he stepped on a dry branch. It snapped.

  Eduardo pulled away when he heard the cracking sound. Startled, Nikki sat upright, pulled her blouse down, and straightened her hair.

  A young couple walking the trail, probably pilgrims hiking the Camino de Santiago who were overnighting in a Burgos hostel, strolled up from the town on their way to the palace fortress.

  “Is the Burgos Castle straight ahead?” the young man asked the older couple. “Have you seen it?”

  “We loved it,” Nikki said, “but we left when it closed.”

  “Ah, we thought it’d be incredible to visit by moonlight. We were expecting it would be open till ten tonight,” the young woman said. “I guess we should return to town.”

  The foursome continued talking until Eduardo invited the pilgrims to join them for dinner in Burgos.

  As the two couples set off to find a place to eat, Taiwo picked up the branch he’d stepped on. He waited a few seconds before throwing the broken twig against the ground with force. Twice he had failed. In the same day. But the opportunity would present itself again. Soon, he thought. He spat. Then he turned, carrying his walking stick, toward town and his hotel room.

  Chapter Twenty

  Barcelona—Eixample District

  Two Days Later—Tuesday Morning

  Olani and Selena reached the southwest corner of the park opposite the basilica, crossed the street, and headed toward the Passion portico. Both women wore long, colorful skirts with the loose, long-sleeved blouses typically used by much older Roma women. They carried fans despite the weather not being warm enough to warrant them.

  Olani listened as Selena reminded her of the code they had practiced with the fans. They would communicate this way since they would beg in different places near the basilica.

  “I was thinking that your friend Rosa thinks an attack is planned around Sagrada Família,” Olani said, “why can’t we just call Rafa—”

  “No way!” Selena answered.

  “Can’t we tell him what we know? Let him report the possible bombing to authorities here?” Olani turned away from Selena to hide her fear.

  “Give Rafa that information and you’ll get several people killed. Like Rosa. Her husband would kill her. Then he’d come after you. And me too.”

  “I want justice for Kenny. For Dayo. Why must it all be so convoluted?”

  “It’s the way the police work. They play by the rules, getting subpoenas. Taiwo would be long gone by the time the legal approvals came through. Rafa may be your cousin’s husband, but he has to follow standard procedures.”

  “The laws are made to benefit the criminals,” Olani said.

  “What will you do if you find Taiwo?” Selena asked.

  “Turn him over to the police.”

  “Remember, only if you can link him to an obvious attack,” Selena said. “Do not get involved unless he commits a crime and you can turn him over with minimum attention to yourself. Anonymous is better.”

  “Understood. The police number is on my phone.”

  Olani changed the subject to a phone call she had received from her cousin Lola the night before while Selena had been practicing her dance. Lola reported on Rafael’s progress toward finding Taiwo. Which was no progress at all, since the Moroccan police had not issued an international extradition request.

  Selena wanted to know if Olani was prepared to take matters into her own hands if the authorities did not catch him.

  “I lie awake at night wondering about that,” Olani said.

  “And?”

  “I will kill him myself if I must. Qiṣāṣ—retaliation in kind. But the ideal would be to catch Taiwo with a bomb,” Olani said. “I’d scream for the police to arrest him.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. If you see him, do not let him see you. Do not forget he killed his brother in cold blood. He has no reason to spare you if you get in his way.”

  Olani considered Selena’s words. Taiwo would not even recognize her if he saw her. Not now that she used makeup and resembled the American singer Beyoncé. Plus she was not wearing a hijab. Selena has made me look so different.

  They approached the Passion portico. Selena gave Olani instructions to signal her by using the fan if she saw Taiwo. “Did you bring the cell phone I gave you? And the knife?” Selena asked.

  “Yes, and sunglasses, too.”

  Selena pointed to a spot near the parishioner entrance. “That’s a good place for you to appeal for donations. I’ll be across the street in the park. Remember what I’ve taught you about approaching tourists. How to ask for money. If I get near, use the cards I gave you.”

  “Solicit people for fortune telling?”

  “Yes, they love to hear about their future, especially women. Hold those cards the way we practiced. Talk to them about romance. Weddings. Children. That way you can keep them distracted. I’ll come along and pick their pockets.”

  “Are you really going to do that?”

  “Pick their pockets?” Selena asked. “Keep in mind, gadji, you need money to survive on. Consider it your pay for turning over a terrorist.”

  Olani figured she could beg for money, but she was still a gadji. She’d figured out the endearment meant something like “bumpkin.” She was definitely that when it came to fortune telling. She was pleased every time she heard the clink of coins falling into the small steel pan she held, but pretending to tell women’s fortunes? That was beyond her abilities.

  Three hours later, Selena walked to the parishioner entrance to rejoin Olani.

  “Hey, Morocco, it’s time for lunch.”

  Olani felt a flush of acceptance into Selena’s life. She could not contain her exuberance. “Would you believe people gave me money?” Her voice rose in excitement.

  “Of course. You’re a beggar. People will feel sorry for you and they should give you money. They have more than you do. How much did you earn?” Selena asked.

  “Twenty-two euros. Just for standing there. And you?”

  “One hundred and forty-five,” Selena said. “And some change.”

  Olani’s eyes grew bigge
r.

  “But I gave the pizzo forty-five to cover both of us.” Selena explained that the pizzo collected money for space to panhandle. She handed Olani a small silk bag containing coins and bills.

  Weighing the pouch in her hand, Olani exclaimed, “So much!”

  Although the café they entered had no outdoor seating, its large windows were open. After freshening up in the bathroom, they found chairs at a bistro type table. Olani confirmed to Selena that Taiwo had not arrived on the scene.

  Olani picked up a menu. “Maybe he’s gone back to Morocco or Nigeria.”

  “Not likely. We may have to wait several days before he shows up. Maybe he’s doing other jobs in preparation for the big one.”

  “You think we’ll find him?” Olani asked, sounding discouraged.

  “Yes.”

  Olani asked her friend how she learned to beg if she was a flamenco dancer, not a beggar.

  “As a child, I was taught to beg. My mother and I had to survive after my father was killed.”

  Olani gaped in amazement.

  “Later my mother met the man who would end her life. A talented and charming musician. She married him. He strummed guitar and sang while we danced. Mother would get very close to the patrons, distracting them while I combed through pockets and purses.”

  “She had you do that?” Olani asked.

  “My stepfather was a bad man. He had me pickpocketing tourists by age ten. He strangled my mother right in front of me. I ran away and never saw him again.”

  “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. How did you make it?”

  “A Catholic charity picked me up off the street.” Selena sighed. “The charity saved me. That’s where I met Rosa. I graduated from high school. My Rom blood and my mother’s training helped me excel at dancing, especially flamenco,” Selena said. Her face took on a sultry expression and she arched her arms above her head in a typical flamenco posture.

  Olani smiled. Despite the dowdy clothes her friend was wearing today, Selena looked the part of a seductive dancer.

  Selena continued talking about her background. After high school, she had run away to Sevilla. By day, she had studied at a dance school. By night, she had begged for money, including picking a few pockets when she failed to get enough from begging. The school had never found out about her panhandling, and later hired her to teach. For the past ten years, she had worked at flamenco dinner clubs in Barcelona. And supplemented her income with private dance lessons she taught at her apartment in Barcelona.

  “It’s never occurred to me to dance for a living,” Olani said.

  “Your religion would never allow it,” Selena said, “whereas, for the Roma, it’s honest work.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Barcelona—Eixample District

  Friday Evening

  Back in Barcelona after their five-day honeymoon, Nikki sat by an open window inside a small café on Carrer de Sardenya waiting for Carmen and Eduardo. The window was propped open by four tattered, dirty books: Catalonia, Barcelona, and two volumes of Great Small Hotels. Nikki admired the care someone had taken in placing the books exactly where they would hold the window open.

  Carmen had recommended the boutique restaurant. She knew the owners, the food was good, and dinner was served much earlier than in most restaurants in Barcelona. Besides, it was close to Sagrada Família and within walking distance of her condominium. Nikki and Carmen had attended the rehearsal for Paula’s wedding an hour earlier at the Sagrada Família parishioners’ church. Eduardo had stayed in the hotel studying for his comprehensive medical licensing exam. He would be taking it when they returned to Miami so that he could practice medicine in the United States.

  Since Paula did not want a rehearsal dinner, she had left with Fadi and his family as soon as the walk-through at the church was completed. Nikki, sensing the rejection that her aunt must have felt when Paula departed, invited Carmen to dinner so that she would not be alone after the rehearsal. Eduardo planned to walk from the hotel to meet them. Despite Carmen’s many friends in the city, Nikki surmised that she regularly dined alone, considering Paula’s long hours at work and her apparent lack of interest in spending time with her mother. Nikki welcomed her aunt’s company. Carmen reminded her of her late mother.

  Glancing toward the door, Nikki saw Eduardo walk in. Her body straightened, and she felt the familiar tingle of excitement upon seeing him. He leaned in to give her a kiss before sitting down.

  “Where is Tía Carmen?” he asked.

  “In the bathroom—she’ll be back soon.”

  “How did the dress rehearsal go?”

  “Fine.” Nikki responded with a shrug of her shoulders.

  Carmen approached, and Eduardo stood to pull out a chair for Carmen to sit.

  “Did you and Nikki enjoy your honeymoon?” Carmen asked upon seeing Eduardo for the first time since the Casa Milà rooftop wedding reception.

  “Short but great!” Eduardo said. His voice sounded full of joy. “But we’ve already booked a longer one. A tour through caves in northern Spain and the Dordogne in southern France.”

  “You’ve overcome your fear of caves?” Carmen asked, looking at her niece.

  “It’s the Paleolithic art Nikki wants to see,” Eduardo said, answering for her. “You should have seen how entranced she was at the museum in Burgos.”

  “I’ll talk to Floyd about extending my vacation,” Nikki said.

  Carmen cleared her throat. She thanked Nikki for letting her arrange the flowers for their wedding. Obviously hurt by Paula’s choosing a florist instead of her, Carmen seemed resigned to the fact. She reached across the table and squeezed Nikki’s hand. “Thanks for being here. It means so much to me.”

  “And to us,” Nikki said, squeezing back.

  “I hope my daughter is happy about her marriage,” Carmen said. “Tonight she told me she just wants to get it over with. It made me sad to hear that, like she’s having second thoughts.”

  “Paula may not be interested in the fuss over being a bride,” Eduardo said.

  “That’s true,” Nikki added, “but last week before our own wedding, she invited me to Sagrada Família to take measurements and she seemed very happy.”

  “Measurements?” Carmen asked. Her brow furrowed in a perplexed expression.

  “For placement of the flower vases around the altar and up the central aisle.”

  Shouting outside caught their attention. “A parade?” Nikki asked.

  “Or soccer hooligans,” Eduardo suggested.

  Men wearing black T-shirts and holding red and yellow striped flags with a blue triangle and white star marched along the sidewalk toward the café. “Isn’t the Catalan flag just yellow and red?” Nikki asked Carmen.

  “Those are the Catalunya separatists,” Carmen explained. “They carry the flag we call L’Estelada Blava, the Blue Star.”

  A shouting demonstrator knocked the books off the windowsill, and they crashed to the floor. Nikki jumped and the window slammed shut.

  A server moved in with haste to pick up the fallen books and prop the window open again, apologizing for his rude countrymen.

  Nikki watched her aunt pacing back and forth on the balcony. She had arrived early that morning at Carmen’s place to help with any final details. But she could only witness her aunt’s anxiety and wonder why Paula was taking so much time getting ready.

  Paula had moved in with her mother the final week leading up to her wedding, vacating her apartment. She would move in with Fadi once the priest married them at the Sagrada Família ceremony.

  “I’ve never understood my daughter,” Carmen said. She stopped pacing and glanced at Nikki sitting at the table on the balcony. “At least not the way my husband did when he was alive. Paula and her father enjoyed a special bond. At times like this, I really miss Luis.”

  “Paula is so lucky to have you, Aunt Carmen,” Nikki said. “After she has children of her own, she may appreciate you more.”

  “Luis could
persuade Paula to be sensible. He understood how difficult it was for her to express herself. She responded to him. But not with me.”

  “Weddings are emotional times. She will get over it,” Nikki said. “Give her time.”

  “On the contrary, Paula’s been very rational this past week,” Carmen said. “She’s paid every utility bill. She’s returned borrowed items to her friends. She’s even paid off her car loan.”

  “Paula is probably a little nervous,” Nikki said.

  Nikki watched her aunt’s exasperation. Carmen must have been wondering what Paula was thinking, not even getting dressed as the hour of the wedding fast approached.

  The doorman called on the intercom and Carmen stepped into the living room to answer it. After giving her consent for Eduardo, Floyd, and his wife Milena to come up to her condo, she moved toward the door to greet them.

  As her guests stepped out of the elevator, Carmen cheek-kissed them and ushered them into her living room. Turning to Milena, she said, “I’m so glad you and Floyd could stay for Paula’s wedding. Assuming we actually have a wedding today.”

  “She’s not backing out, is she?” Nikki asked, thinking about Paula’s lack of enthusiasm for her nuptials.

  “She’s having trouble getting dressed,” Carmen replied.

  Nikki offered to see if she could help her cousin, heading down the hall to Paula’s bedroom and knocking. When she received no answer, Nikki knocked again.

  Still not getting a response, Nikki cracked open the door. The beaded white lace wedding dress lay pooled in a heap on the floor. Beyond it, Paula was also on the floor.

  Closing the door behind her, Nikki realized that Paula was praying. In the Muslim way, kneeling on a prayer rug and bowing to the east. She wore only her underwear and wedding veil. Neither woman spoke until the prayer was finished.