Revenge in Barcelona

by Kathryn Lane

  “What about the Nigerian?”

  “What about him?” Arenas asked.

  “Why was he following Ms. Garcia and her husband with intent to kill them?”

  “I had unfinished business with Ms. Garcia,” Arenas said. His voice sounded hostile again and his eyes were blazing with hatred. “She destroyed one of my operations. I had reason to exact revenge.”

  Rafael ran the pros and cons in his mind about bringing up revenge against El Saraway and his family, but decided to keep his questions strictly about the issues at hand.

  “So it’s not a coincidence the Nigerian was involved in the attack at the basilica and also sent to eliminate Ms. Garcia?”

  Arenas glanced at his attorney and sighed. “The Nigerian missed his chance to kill her on the train to Burgos.”

  “Train to Burgos? How did he know she would be going to Burgos?”

  “The concierge at that woman’s hotel gave me the information. My people passed it on to the Nigerian. He messed up. His second chance would have been at the church. I did not know she’d be there. I never knew what target was being blown up.”

  “Now tell me about the Nigerian,” Rafael said.

  “The man’s worked for me before. I told you, Sonia needed an electronics expert for the explosives. My involvement was giving her a number to call. With my people, she arranged for the expert to arrive at her flower shop to set up the explosives and detonator right before the bombs were taken to the target location. The expert was the same man.”

  “The Nigerian?” Rafael asked. “Electronics expert and a hired gun?”

  “You could say that.” A half smile slipped across Arenas’s lips.

  “He mentioned meeting with a man on Ibiza. He thought that man represented someone else.”

  “That’s good. Most people who work for me never know who they are working for. Like the Nigerian, they never meet me. Keeps me safe.”

  “Not this time,” Rafael said.

  “We have not gone to trial yet,” Arenas said with a sadistic smile.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Barcelona—Barri Gòtic

  Saturday Night—Week Four

  The two couples—Nikki and Eduardo, Floyd and Milena—visited the Bishop’s Bridge and walked on to the site of the turtle antidote before arriving at the Azul restaurant in the Gothic Quarter of the city. They were seated at a large, well-worn table constructed of wide wooden planks.

  Feeling relaxed for the first time in days, Nikki looked around. The restaurant’s low ceiling over massive medieval walls gave the place a centuries old atmosphere, especially as the dim lighting accented the rough-hewn rocks of the walls. These stones must have stood by as a lot of history passed on the cobblestone street, she thought.

  Eduardo broke her musings by mentioning Carmen “She’s a remarkable woman. Devastated by the death of her loved ones yet she’s meeting this heartbreaking challenge with fierce pragmatism.”

  “She’s even insisted we take our honeymoon through the caves of northern Spain and southern France,” Nikki said, “but we will spend three days with Carmen before we leave. We want to be with her for the memorial services for Paula and Carlos, Carmen’s brother-in-law. Also to inter their ashes.” She turned toward Milena and explained Carmen had chosen to take the ashes to Cementiri de Montjuïc, a place not usually selected by families in Barcelona since it’s on the tourist trail. But Paula and her uncle shared a love for Joan Mirò, the painter and sculptor, who was a native son of Barcelona. With Mirò buried there, she felt they would both appreciate having their ashes near the painter’s burial site.

  “That will bring some closure,” Eduardo said. He took the opportunity to thank Floyd and Milena for their support throughout the ordeal. And he mentioned their appreciation for Nikki’s extra time off from work so they could take their honeymoon.

  “Not a problem. When you get back, there will be plenty of work. In fact, we may have a case in Hong Kong.”

  “I’d hate to be in Carmen’s shoes,” Milena said, still thinking about Carmen. “I don’t know how I’d deal with such sorrow.”

  “You’d survive,” Floyd said. “Somehow we find the fortitude to deal with life’s hardships.”

  “Tía Carmen was so relieved to know her daughter was not involved in the plot,” Nikki said. “She was concerned about that during the days she was in the hospital. It’s made a huge difference in how she feels.”

  Floyd brought the conversation back to the investigation, mentioning how glad he was El Saraway turned out to be a good guy. Nikki agreed. She hesitated, feeling disloyal to the person who helped save their lives, but added she’d discovered El Saraway had moved millions in digital currency through a Panamanian-based crypto exchange company where withdrawals were made in US dollars.

  “Does not sound good,” Floyd said.

  “I know. I debated about telling you. We don’t know that he’s laundering money, but it sounds suspicious.”

  “I’ll mention it to Javier tomorrow when I have a closing meeting with him. Now to complete the story about the Rom women,” Floyd said. “Javier’s told me only one is Rom. That was the one who was attacked by the Nigerian. It turns out the other one is the Nigerian’s sister-in-law.”

  Nikki grimaced. “His sister-in-law? That does not make sense.”

  “Yes, it does, when you consider the Nigerian killed her husband to steal his passport so he could get into Spain. That woman also happens to be a cousin of Rafael’s wife.”

  “What a small world. Now it makes sense that he seemed to know them,” Eduardo said.

  “Javier may want to add more details tonight,” Floyd said, “but what we know is Sonia Ussam masterminded the attack. Once she discovered Fadi was not Fernando’s biological son, she took advantage of her father’s anger and set out to eliminate Fadi and his mother so she could inherit the Massú money. Of course, Fernando Massú is fully implicated since he colluded and brought Arenas into the scheme.”

  “Who was Fadi’s biological father?” Nikki asked.

  “Don’t fall over when I tell you,” Floyd said. “The guy who hired hit men to get you. Cristóbal Arenas. Massú and Arenas are cousins. Arenas confessed to a love affair with Jamila but did not know Fadi was his son. DNA tests confirmed his paternity.”

  Chills ran down her back. Nikki’s expression of surprise remained on her face as she shook her head, thinking how lucky she and Eduardo had been to escape Arenas’s attempt on their lives.

  “Massú set it all in motion when he tested his offspring for Parkinson’s,” Floyd said. “That’s when he found out Fadi could not possibly be his son. He shared that information with Sonia. Together they decided to bomb the basilica to make it appear as if it had been a terrorist plot.”

  “How could they do something so cruel?” Milena asked. “He raised that boy. That makes him his son.”

  “Exactly what I said,” Nikki offered. “Fadi was such a great guy. It’s all so sad.”

  “Sonia knew one of her employees was at least partially radicalized,” Floyd said. He continued telling them Sonia had known of Hassan’s connection to the imam with extremist views in Tarragona, the one who deals in false documents, gun trafficking, and illegal drugs to get money for his causes. Then Massú put Sonia in contact with Arenas, knowing his cousin sold weapons and explosives.

  “If Sonia executed the plans,” Eduardo said, “she was an amateur at it. They did a lot of damage, but it could have been far worse. That explains why her employee used a Honda Beat instead of a sturdy vehicle to mow people down.”

  “Sonia confessed she’d purposely left her shop stickers on the vases to make it appear she was innocent since a guilty flower shop owner would never have left such incriminating evidence,” Floyd said.

  “Bad reasoning on her part,” Eduardo said.

  “The Tarragona imam had a connection not only with Hassan, but also with Arenas’s organization on Ibiza,” Floyd said. “The Nigerian had a gun on him the nigh
t he intended to assault you. Arenas’s intermediary arranged for the imam to provide it. It was an old Russian pistol. The Nigerian flew to Tarragona on a small aircraft provided by Arenas and they could not risk the Nigerian getting caught with it at the airport.”

  “It’s the same the world over. Criminals from one type of illegal activity deal with criminals involved in other things,” Nikki said.

  “Drug lords in Latin America deal with the human traffickers all the time,” Milena added.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Nikki said. “Let’s also remember there are a lot of good people in this world. Look at the two women who risked their lives when Eduardo and I were walking down Carrer de Provença. They could have walked away but did not. Eduardo and I might not be here tonight if it were not for them.”

  “Would you believe they want to meet you? Javier might bring them with him tonight,” Floyd said.

  “Speak of the devil. Here’s Javier now,” Eduardo said as he looked toward the entrance.

  Three tall, striking women, one carrying a baby, walked in with Javier and Rafael. A fourth woman, petite with a dark complexion, was Asian.

  Chinese, perhaps, Nikki thought.

  As the group approached the table, Javier greeted everyone and proceeded to introduce the women, starting with Lola, Rafael’s wife. Next he presented Olani and elaborated on her brave quest to seek justice.

  “The twin brothers were similar to the story of Cain and Abel. Like Abel, Olani’s husband was the younger one, the good one, who was murdered by his jealous and greedy older brother.”

  Javier introduced them to Selena, mentioning she’s a flamenco dancer and teacher in Barcelona.

  “Oh, we saw you at Tablao Flamenco,” Nikki said as she stood. She felt emotional at being introduced to the women who’d saved them. “We saw you dancing at the Tablao Flamenco. Your dancing is incredible.”

  Selena took a mock bow.

  “But saving our lives was even more incredible,” Nikki said. “My husband and I thank you.”

  Selena reached for Olani’s hand, and they both took another bow. Dayo giggled when her mother swung into the bow.

  Nikki stepped toward the women and gave them warm embraces. “And now I know why you looked familiar when you were sprawled out on the sidewalk.” Nikki embraced Lola and continued to stand until Javier finished talking.

  “And this is my wife, Jia Li,” Javier said. “We met in Hong Kong when we were growing up. My father was stationed there. I’ll bet you did not know I speak fluent Mandarin, one of the reasons I have the job I do.”

  No wonder he speaks English with an odd accent, Nikki thought as she approached Jia Li and embraced her too.

  “El Saraway sends his best wishes and message. He wanted to join us tonight but was afraid of Nikki’s Taser,” Javier said, waiting a couple of seconds as everyone laughed.

  “I thought I was tasing a bad guy,” Nikki said with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders.

  “He said to tell you he is glad guilty ones arrested. Soon they be brought to justice.” Javier smiled and asked everyone to find a seat at the table. “Oh, this is baby Dayo. Not quite one year old.”

  “The United Nations at one table,” Nikki said. “I count eleven of us with Dayo. And if I’m correct, we have five nationalities represented—Spain, the US, Colombia, China, and Nigeria.”

  “Dayo gives us six nationalities. She’s Moroccan. Though I’m happy to say we will be legal residents in Spain very soon. Thanks to Rafael.” Olani beamed as she looked at Rafael and Lola.

  “We have all been hit by Sagrada Família tragic events,” Javier said. “But tonight we enjoy one another’s company before we go back to our separate corners of the world.”

  “And he wants you to enjoy the tapas he loves so much,” Jia Li said as she glanced at her husband. “His favorite is the roasted pepper and goat cheese. He preordered by phone so we don’t have to wait.”

  As soon as Jia Li had spoken those words, wait staff appeared with plate after plate of tapas. Wine bottles flowed to the table as a few final points on the investigation were clarified.

  “One thing I did not understand was Paula’s missing computer,” Eduardo said.

  “Sonia confessed she tried to take advantage of Paula’s conversion to Islam,” Javier said. “Sonia stole computer after bombing to plant software and information on it to frame Paula as mastermind. Make it appear Paula had martyred herself with home-grown terrorists. But Nigerian not expert on electronics that Arenas’s contacts claimed, so it didn’t get done.”

  “No, but he was adept enough,” Nikki said. “Look at the innocent people he killed.”

  “True,” Rafael said. Up to now he hadn’t spoken. “But I think we need to celebrate the good things about life, good company, good food, good drink.”

  “Salud,” Floyd and Rafael said simultaneously, holding up their wine glasses.

  Even Olani jumped into the toast. Her glass contained carbonated water, but she held it high as she toasted and thanked Selena for helping her. Then she added a thank you to Lola and Rafael for welcoming her and Dayo into their home.

  The evening progressed past midnight with laughter, tears, joy, and sorrow depending on the topic of the moment. At one point when Dayo starting crying, Nikki took her in her arms and walked in the narrow aisles between tables until Dayo fell asleep.

  By the time they had all finished eating, talking, and drinking, they were all hugging and cheek kissing each other as if they had known one another for a lifetime. Nikki even gave Javier a warm hug.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Barcelona—Majestic Hotel

  Early Hours of Sunday Morning

  Eduardo opened the door to their hotel room. As soon as he closed it behind them, Nikki slipped her arms around his neck and squeezed against him as if she could not bear to let go. He bent down slightly, his lips searching for hers, and they kissed with such passion, Nikki was not sure if Eduardo carried her to the bed or if they flew. The dream state continued as they unclothed. Time magically stopped ticking. They were alone in the universe, the two of them, in a dimension Nikki had never known before. She felt the thrust of her breasts against his chest, her legs wrapped around his body, her hands on his buttocks rocking with the motion of their desire. Their bodies responded to each other’s rhythm in perfect harmony. She had never felt happier.

  In the moment of ecstasy, they surrendered to each other completely.

  As they lay together, their legs entwined, Eduardo touched Nikki’s face with the back of his hand and brushed a wisp of her hair from her cheek. He propped himself up on his elbow with the pillow bunched under his armpit. Looking at Nikki, he said “You look happy and relaxed.”

  “What a great way to resume our honeymoon,” she said looking at him through dreamy eyes. “After our honeymoon, where shall we go next?”

  “How about staying right here making love night and day for a full month?” Eduardo’s lips parted into a whimsical smile.

  Nikki playfully smacked his arm with her hand. “Get serious. I have to get back to work and you have your board exams.”

  “I was also thinking,” Eduardo said, “how fortunate we’ve been. In Mexico Juana la Marihuana took care of you, and here you’ve had Selena and Olani.”

  “I never thought I’d find people like Juana again. We owe them so much.”

  “So what’s next for us?” Eduardo asked.

  “Hong Kong as Floyd suggested? He’ll fly you over for a week or two. Or should I stay in the States, where I can be home for weekends?”

  “Any place where no one’s waiting to kill us is fine with me,” Eduardo said. He leaned in and kissed her again.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading Revenge in Barcelona. If you enjoyed it, I would very much appreciate a review on Amazon and Goodreads. And if you’d like a note from me when I have another book coming out, please sign up for my email list at https://www.kathryn-lane.com/.

  Acknowledgme
nts

  I am indebted to countless individuals, many of them from book clubs I have visited, who express the desire to read more Nikki Garcia adventures and offer suggestions of future locations for Nikki’s investigations. Their recommendations provide an impetus to continue writing Nikki’s adventures.

  It is impossible to name the many friends, family, and fans who deserve specific mention. People who contributed directly to Revenge in Barcelona are listed here.

  My husband, Bob Hurt, who supports my writing endeavors and also happens to be my most enthusiastic fan.

  Mercè Iglesias, Josep Redento, and Mercè Puig, friends residing in Barcelona, who arranged for me to meet with a Spanish counterterrorism agent to discuss the various police and counterterrorism forces working in Catalonia.

  Ryan Gable, Constable of Montgomery County, Texas, who offered expert advice.

  My incredible beta readers – Maureen Donelan, Brenda Gottlieb, Patricia Hogan, Jorge Lane, Nancy Miller, and Josep Redento.

  Dean Herr, Dan Rich, Ralph Bivins, Andre Edwin, and Roger Stacy—my writing group in Houston—whose suggestions and comments improve my stories.

  The many friends and fans who keep asking for Nikki’s next adventure—thanks for the wait!

  A special thanks to my editor, Sandra A. Spicher.

  Kathryn Lane

  December 2019

  About the Author

  Kathryn Lane, originally from Mexico, took the long road to becoming an author. An artist in her early years, she became a certified public accountant to earn a living and went on to a career in international finance with a major multinational corporation. In her writing, she draws deeply from the prism of her experiences growing up in a small town in northern Mexico as well as her work and travel in over ninety countries around the globe.