Caballero

by Pablo Poveda

  “One question” I said. “Do you know at what time they start working over there?”

  “Don’t you read the newspapers?”

  “It depends. I read some.”

  “Due to the university scandal” the man explained glancing at the façade, “it looks like they’re not coming here much lately. A few days ago, this was full of journalists keeping watch.”

  “Everybody has to eat...”

  “Yeah, right...” he replied, doubting if he should continue or not. “All I’m saying is they could buy something... They only came here to use the toilet.”

  “Things are not going very well.”

  The man decided to keep his gibberish for himself when he realized I refused to play that game.

  “I don’t know. Try to ring the bell later” he said hopeful, “and if it doesn’t work, go home. I don’t think anything good can come out of there, anyways... Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

  “You’re not a journalist, are you?” he said with sarcasm to get a smile out of me.

  “Well, yes I am.”

  AFTER THE FAILED MEETING with the waiter, who had a story to tell over and over again along the day, I paid for the coffee and decided to go to the building’s gate. All the while I had been sitting in the bar, nobody had entered. There weren’t any cars parked on the street in the area reserved for employees. I headed for the intercom and saw a button with the logo of Fharma S.A. on it.

  I pressed it. An electronic bell sounded.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Tic-toc.

  Nobody answered.

  I raised my eyes and saw a white safety camera in the corner.

  Three.

  Four.

  Tic-toc.

  Something caught my attention, a detail that had gone unnoticed until then. Maciá’s imperious BMW X3 was parked on the perpendicular street. It wasn’t its presence that struck me, but a subtle scratch on the right side of the bumper.

  I took a step back to head for the vehicle when the main gate opened, no questions asked. My heart raced again.

  “It’s just a coincidence, Gabriel” I muttered aloud.

  I glanced at the camera once again. The device remained motionless. Then, I turned my eyes to the bar on the other side of the street, but the waiter was inside and didn’t see me. I slid my hand in my pocket and felt my cell phone.

  I must admit that I didn’t have the courage to enter without thinking twice, but I did. I pushed the door open and went through.

  INSIDE THE BUILDING, a woman waited behind a reception desk. The place looked bigger than I’d heard. Maybe, it was the effect of the glass walls what made it look wider to the senses. A beautiful young woman, with dark hair, in her twenties and dressed in a short blue skirt and a white silk blouse through which I could see a necklace and her breasts, stood up.

  “Welcome to Fharma. Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, not really” I said, surprised by her dark and relaxed look.

  “Then, how can I help you?”

  I went closer. The woman seemed to lack any insecurity. I noticed something strange in her cold and harsh movements.

  “I’d like to talk to Mr. Maciá.”

  “Mr. Maciá is not accepting visitors” she replied as if she had done it many times before. “Many people wish to speak with him.”

  “But I’m not just anybody...” I answered.

  “I’m sorry. I follow orders” she said and pointed with her index at the floor above us. “You could give me your name and email address and I’ll kindly let Mr. Maciá know you were here.”

  “Is he here now?” I insisted.

  “I can’t give you that information, sir.”

  “Caballero” I replied. “Gabriel Caballero.”

  “And your email?” she asked as she typed on the computer.

  “I’m here to talk about Monica Llopis” I replied.

  “Wow, so original” she said with sarcasm. “Hotmail or Gmail?”

  “Listen, darling” I interrupted, cutting off that receptionist’s tone. “Tell your boss I’m here to talk to him.”

  “Excuse me, but you have no right to talk to me like that, so I’ll ask you to please leave or I’ll have to...”

  “There’s nobody here.” I said. “Call whoever you want.”

  The woman grabbed the phone and dialed a number. “Security?”

  I jumped over the desk, pressed the button and ended the call. “Tell your boss they found evidence that implicates him in Llopis’ death” I bluffed. “I’m sure he’d be interested in speaking with me.”

  The woman looked at me with mistrust. Somehow, I noticed in her eyes she hadn’t liked my words. Was Maciá having a romance with the receptionist?

  “Antonio?” she said when picking up the phone. The tone she used to address him betrayed her. “There’s someone here called Gabriel Caballero who wants to talk to you... Yes, himself... Alright.”

  She hung up and took a deep breath to relax herself.

  “Go up the stairs” she said disdainfully. “He’s waiting for you.”

  “Thanks, darling” I answered and headed for the stairs, but first I turned to her again. “He told you you were the only one, right? A girl like you deserves... something better... like me.”

  I REACHED THE LAST step to the first floor. There was a strong smell of disinfectant, cleaning supplies and new furniture. In front of me, there was a corridor with glass walls that contained three offices, a conference room, a lab and a waiting room, where it didn’t seem you could relax being watched by everybody. The modern style was just a cover to have everything under control. The glass walls reminded me of one of the rides in Santa Pola theme park, a place I used to visit as a child. Those memories weren’t very good so being there was unpleasant.

  A man walked through the glass door. He was wearing a well-ironed white shirt, cream colored slacks, shorter than usual, and nautical shoes, typical of someone who often visited the port and luxurious yachts.

  “Caballero” he said with a deep friendly voice. Maciá had his hair back and a piercing gaze that highlighted his confidence. He offered his hand and I shook it. “I was starting to feel desperate. I thought you wouldn’t come.”

  First move. The friendly tone shortened the distance between us. Maciá preferred to treat me with the same honesty Vito Corleone would treat one of his buddies. He walked to the end of the corridor and I followed his steps.

  “Nice office” I said as I looked around the other rooms. “Things must be going well.”

  “Would you like a drink?” He offered.

  “A coffee would be nice” I said. Maciá inserted a capsule in his espresso machine, pressed the button and, in less than a second, the cup was in front of me. “Thank you.”

  “Sit down” he commanded.

  “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

  Macía took a deep breath. He wasn’t used to someone contradicting him. I needed to get along with him, so I obeyed and sat down on the swivel chair.

  “You must be desperate to have come here,” he said, leaning on the edge of his glass desk, “without your detective friend, playing Hercules Poirot.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” I said, sipping on my coffee.

  “Your recklessness has had dire consequences for all of us, my friend” he explained with his arms crossed and a fatherly tone. It was his style, taking me to his territory. “The Police Department is upside down. They have gotten rid of a few in the Town Hall. Besides, I understand your boss is going to be sent to Murcia’s office at the end of the year. And that detective... Poor man. And you, the one to blame for all this, are still at it.”

  “You know that’s not true” I replied. “There are things being hidden.”

  “I don’t know what you mean” he answered with half a smile, “but one more lie and I’ll sue you and I know you can’t even afford a lawyer.”

  �
�Nobody goes to prison for telling the truth.”

  “I have other reasons” he said slowly, “like investigating the registration of a car, abusing your contacts and getting unofficial forensic reports of questionable authenticity. What were you thinking? You’re not the only one who does his job.”

  “Son of a bitch. I’m not scared of you,” I said from the chair. That guy made me nervous. “What relationship did you have with Llopis?

  Maciá laughed. “It’s funny you ask me that.”

  “Did you kill her?” I asked. His expression didn’t seem to be perturbed and that disconcerted me. Maciá kept silent and weighed his answer.

  “That is something you’ll have to find out, Gabriel” he replied, lowering his arms. “I’m curious about how far you’ll go.”

  “Your company, this company... I know you were interested in Llopis winning, besides the relationship you two might have had.”

  “Who gave you those reports?” Maciá asked with intrigue.”

  “A good journalist never reveals his sources,” I said.

  “You’re not a good journalist, Gabriel.”

  “You do your job” I replied, “I do mine.”

  He picked up the phone from the glass desk in slow motion and dialed the reception number. “Luna, you can go home...” He said through the machine. “Yes, we’ll speak later... Yes, don’t worry... I’ll be with Mr. Caballero.” He hung up.

  “Luna. Nice name” I remarked. “She didn’t take very well the thing about you and Llopis.” Maciá smiled.

  “Stay away from her, Gabriel,” he said and stood up. He slid his hand in his pocket and took out a set of keys. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  Maciá left the room and walked to the stairs. “What are you waiting for, Gabriel?”

  I FOLLOWED MACIÁ’S steps, leaving him helpless from behind. We passed by the lower floor to the basement. Maciá stopped in front of a door. He dialed a code and swiped a plastic card through a machine. A sound beeped and green light flashed. Then, the door opened and we continued until we got to a dark warehouse. The lights switched on. White long tubes illuminated the whole floor. A collection of machines, computers and films filled up the space.

  “Here’s where we make the prototypes,” he said, inviting me in. “of course, it’s just a demonstration of what it could be.”

  “You’re looking for funding,” I replied.

  “Yes, Gabriel,” he answered. “You got it.”

  The echo of his shoes stepping on the marble floor made everything more dismal. Maciá’s words bounced in the empty room.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

  The entrepreneur walked to the bottom and went closer to a metal bar. I checked the phone. Fortunately, there was signal down there, although my battery was running low. I thought he was trying to impress me, but I wasn’t sure.

  “I want you to see I’m a normal guy, to know what I do for a living.”

  “I know the type of person you are, Maciá.”

  He grabbed the metal bar and began playing with it. It was as big as a baseball bat. A good hit and I’d be dead. I knew Maciá’s tantrums, his anger issues. I had to be on alert and keep a distance. Physically, I had no chance against him. Maciá was getting closer with little steps and smile on his face. He seemed too pleased with my uneasiness.

  “I have a question...” He said. “If I’d killed Monica, why do you think that would be?”

  “Jelousy, money...” I said, standing still by the door. I understood it was one of those where you had to swipe your card to get in and out. Maciá had put it in his pocket. There was no way out without that piece of plastic. “I know about your fits of jealousy.”

  “No... You don’t know anything, Gabriel.”

  He was getting closer by the second. I searched for something to defend myself in case he attacked, but I couldn’t find anything at reach. I put my hand in my pocket and hid the keys with my fingers. The right hit would save my skin, although I’d only have one chance.

  “The police will find out about everything eventually, Maciá,” I said. I tried not to show a shaky voice and avoid looking scared. I felt a strong pain in my stomach. “As soon as they investigate Botella, everything will come to light, so don’t do anything stupid.”

  ”I could get rid of you if I wanted to, Gabriel,” he said, a few meters away from me. “Not even the police or your friend would find you.”

  “There must be a way to solve this in a good way...” I replied and got ready to fight as I saw him clenching his fist against the bar, “or in a bad way.”

  When I was about to throw him a punch in his Adam’s apple, Maciá anticipated, blocked my arm with his left hand and smashed me against the metal bar, squeezing my neck.

  ”We’ll do it the nice way, Gabriel,” he whispered, breathing on my face. “You won’t want it in any other way.”

  He swiped the card again and the door opened. Maciá backed off a few steps and I dropped the keys. He began to laugh with an evil look. I opened the door and left without saying a word. That son of a bitch had scared me again. The possibility of him killing Llopis wasn’t off the table at all.

  I went in the car and sped up in rage. Good Times Bad times by Led Zeppelin was blasting off the radio. Hidalgo was right. Maciá was a real jerk. The shadows grew among the doubts. Even that secretary could have done it. I took out my phone and dialed the detective’s number. After four rings, I heard the voicemail.

  “Come on, detective. Answer,” I muttered with one hand on the wheel and the other on the phone.

  But nothing. Detective Botella could have been busy emptying his office or arguing with his wife about what’d happened. I understood he didn’t want to hear from anybody. They all looked suspicious to me. I needed some professional help. How could I find the detective?

  Then, I thought that only one person could help me find where Botella lived, and that person was Ortiz.

  14

  MACIÁ’S VISIT HAD LEFT me exhausted. I went back to the city, parked in one of the side streets near the market and went in Guillermo’s Bar, a typical traditional place run by a family from Alicante who had managed the business quite well for the last few years. A poster with a bull caught customers’ attention at the street. Guillermo’s, a rustic bar that mantained the values from earlier times, had been a second home for many like me and other journalists who passed by its wooden bar to have a beer and a bite of tortilla. The reporters, mostly the ones working at Calderon de la Barca St., used to walk by to compare sources, rumours and other news that was about to come out. Also, many national music bands got their start there before they were able to pack concert halls like Stereo, about a hundred meters from the bar. That day only a collection of bottles behind the bar, a cold vermouth and a plate of olives awaited me. I asked the waiter for some Russian salad and a piece of paper. Ideas spun inside my head because, if anything was clear to me, it was that I had to find a good reason for Ortiz not to fire me.

  If he helped me find Botella, I’d give him the exclusive and convince Hidalgo to hire him as an associate professor at the Faculty of Journalism. Everybody knows how this works; friends get you in and that’s how the easy subjects begin. I needed more fingers on my hand to count how many incompetent teachers I had to listen to during my student days, but that’s a story for another book.

  I took my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Hidalgo’s number. The battery was almost dead.

  “How many times do I have to ask you not to phone me?” he said and hung up. He was still upset about what had happened.

  So I politely asked the waiter if I could use the phone for a local call. The tall thin man in a white shirt looked at me annoyed, but eventually agreed. I dialed again.

  “Hello?” said Hidalgo on the other side.

  “Hidalgo, please don’t hang up,” I said fast, “I promise it’s important.”

  “Shit, Gabriel! What the hell do you want?”

&nbs
p; “I have to talk to you,” I replied. “I’ve been investigating about the case...”

  “Look, I don’t wanna talk about that.”

  “Wait!”I shouted. “Don’t hang up. Give me a minute, Hidalgo...” I heard his breathing.

  “One minute.”

  “Yes, promise” I replied. “You were right about Maciá. He’s a jerk, a very bad one. I paid him a visit.”

  Hidalgo seemed to change his mind about the duration of the phone call.

  “What did he say?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He tried to scare me.”

  “Tell me what he said.”

  “I don’t think I should talk about that on the phone...” I said, glancing at the waiter who pointed at his wrist watch to pressure me to end the call. “I’m at Guillermo’s. Where can we meet?”

  “Gabriel, we cannot be seen together,” he said nervous, “For our own good, we should stay away from each other for a while.”

  “What I’ve found out concerns you, Antonio...”

  “Excuse me but we need the phone available so we can answer customers’ calls...” said the waiter upset.

  “Are you calling me from the bar’s phone?” Hidalgo asked. “You’re shameless.”

  With his voice as background noise, I observed a big black and white picture behind the bar that showed the city of Alicante in the past.

  “I’ll see you at Santa Barbara Castle’s overview.”

  “In one hour,” Hidalgo answered, “No surprises.”

  Antonio hung up. The waiter looked at me with fire in his eyes for having abused his trust.

  “It was an important call,” I said, “Thank you.”

  “Here the only important calls are those to book a table,” he replied.

  I left, put my sunglasses on and headed for the castle. The only way up to the top was on foot, through the stairs surrounding the fortress.

  Later, tired, breathless and after bumping into a group of German tourists, I reached the top of Benacantil Mount, where the castle was located. Looking at the beauty of the city from up there made me forget about my problems for a minute: the port, illuminated by the colorful lights, Postiguet Beach and the neighborhoods full of houses, all of them under the afternoon sun.