by JJ Marsh
Adrian didn’t answer immediately and she heard him have a muffled conversation with Matthew.
“OK. But do hurry. How’s Ana?”
Beatrice held the phone away from her head. “How are you?”
Ana shrugged. “Better than you by the looks of things. Where’s the remote?”
Beatrice waved vaguely in the direction of the desk. “She’s fine. We’ll call a cab and see you in twenty minutes.”
Ana flicked through the channels until she came across a panel discussion. The camera panned the table and Beatrice spotted a familiar face. Arturo de Aguirre, dressed in a deep blue suit, gesturing and posturing with typical éclat. She couldn’t understand a word. Ana stood beside Beatrice and they watched Aguirre’s confident, relaxed performance for several seconds.
Bored of guessing what the conversation was about, Beatrice turned to Ana. The familiar dark hair, sardonic eyebrows and suspicious frown at the television set induced a burst of affection and a genuine smile. Which restarted the bleeding.
“I’m so happy to see you. I imagined all sorts,” she said, her voice muffled through bloodied tissue.
“I’m fine. Not a bother on me. But what the hell happened to you?” Ana winced in sympathy.
“To be honest, I am sick to the back feet of telling the story. Where did you go? I thought they’d got you. How did you get away?”
Ana shook her head with a laugh. “Saved by the smell. On the way back from the loo, I stopped off at the shop. As I went in, I caught the strongest stink of black tobacco. And that set off the most almighty alarm. I’d smelt it before. One of those goons who turned up at my flat was smoking that. It’s rank.”
“Did you see him?”
“Not at first. I ducked behind the CD racks and watched. I saw one of them come out of the restaurant. His mate joined him from the coffee shop and then they both went into the ladies’ loo.”
“The ladies’ loo? And no one objected?”
“Sure, but they don’t give a toss. They were looking for me. No doubt about it. So I was about to take my chance and run for the exit when I copped myself on. If two of them were inside, looking for me, the other two were outside, looking for you. So I sent you a message and got myself arrested.”
Beatrice gawped.
“When trying to escape from men with guns, the best place to hide is behind other men with guns. I ditched the phone in case they could trace it, snatched a handful of CDs and walked out without paying. The alarm went off and the security guards marched me up to the office. I was arrested and charged and taken back to San Sebastian police station. Arsewit and Dickhead must have thought I’d disappeared down the plughole.”
“Arrested!”
“Petty crime. They flexed a few muscles, lectured me a bit and told me to piss off. So I got on a bus and came back. Picked up my Vespa and rode over here. Then I watched the hotel from the café over the road, just in case. You know the police are outside?”
“Milandro?”
“Nope. But there’s a plain-clothes guy outside I’d swear is a cop. Now tell me what the hell happened to you and your face. How did you get back to Vitoria?”
“I drove.”
“No way! You told me you were useless behind the wheel.”
“I am. Hence my face. I wrote off Jaime’s car. Which reminds me, I need to call him. And I’d better let Milandro know you’re here. And would you call us a cab?”
“Sure. But can I use your bathroom first?”
“Be quick. We need a plan.”
Milandro actually sounded relieved to hear Ana had turned up unharmed. He made an appointment for them both to come to the station in the morning for a formal statement. He didn’t exactly order her to stay in the hotel, but strongly suggested they stay in and enjoy room service. Beatrice agreed that would be best, all the while lacing up her trainers in preparation for their departure. After finishing the call, Beatrice took several deep breaths, ignoring the twinges all over her torso. Her mind attempted a logical analysis of a situation which frightened her witless.
Aguirre was cornered. His malpractice was on the verge of being exposed and the only question now was how far the corruption went. Killing off everyone who knew the details would be impossible. Jaime could run the story as soon as the day after tomorrow, tugging at the thread which would unravel the whole affair. But how to protect Luz? Beatrice had no back-up, no authority and no plan.
It would not do. Whatever was going on at the warehouse put them all at risk and Beatrice needed an insurance policy. She scrolled through her phone until she found the number of Conceição Pereira da Silva. An Interpol agent and ex-colleague, Conceição would be the perfect person; guaranteed to understand and ask no stupid questions.
As she pressed dial, she relaxed in anticipation of hearing Conceição’s magnetic voice, recalling those bright eyes, her huge smile and constant air of amusement. But there was no reply. Beatrice left a brief message explaining where she was and why and asking Conceição to sound the alarm if Beatrice had not called back in twenty-four hours. Then she called Jaime, informed him of Ana’s safe return and explained the situation.
“As far as we know, there are two men holding a young woman in that warehouse. My suspicion is they have Luz Aguirre, that girl who turned up here this afternoon. They’re probably waiting for instructions from her father. If you can join us, that’s five against two, even if we are unarmed. That should give us the edge.”
“Of course. I can be there in around half an hour.” Bless Jaime, the man who never said no. “So, let me understand. Matthew and Adrian are already there? Inside the warehouse?”
“No, they’re watching it from the forest behind. They have a clear view of the delivery bay, which is where the girl was taken.”
“I see. Have you called that detective?”
Beatrice hesitated. This was no time for double-dealing. She chose to put her cards on the table.
“Jaime, I’m afraid Milandro may well be a part of this. My priority now is to get Luz to safety and then I’m taking this investigation to Interpol. I think the police are probably on Aguirre’s payroll.”
“Really? My God! Are Interpol already involved?”
“I’ve got to assemble a case first. I believe Luz has given me everything I need. I’m just afraid Aguirre has found out what she’s done. If he has, she’s in trouble. We must get her out, Jaime.”
“You don’t really think he’d hurt her? This is his daughter we’re talking about.”
“I know. But I have a nasty feeling that makes the betrayal so much worse. When he gets back from Madrid, I want Luz somewhere safe and an airtight case prepared for his arrest.”
“OK, Beatrice. I’ll make some calls and join you as soon as I can.”
“Thank you, Jaime. I’d be lost without your constant support. You’ve been right with me, every step of the way.”
“No problem. Please look after yourself. And give Ana a kiss from me.”
Beatrice smiled and rang off. She picked up her gin and tonic, took a slug and pulled a face. Lukewarm.
Then she froze, gazing into the middle distance.
Every step of the way.
Milandro wasn’t the only person to see Luz this afternoon. And Jaime had shown no surprise on hearing the name of Luz Aguirre. When Beatrice was supposed to be in Jaime’s flat, the gang had shown up. How had they known she was there alone? It could have been coincidence. And today, Jaime had loaned them his distinctive powder-blue BMW. Their fears about being followed on the way to San Sebastian were groundless. Of course. Aguirre’s crew already knew where they were going. The hoods would have had no difficulty tailing them on the way back. She’d kept Jaime informed of every last movement. And he knew perfectly well who Luz was because he was working for her father.
She shook her head. Paranoia. She’d be suspecting Ana next. But if Jaime was a snitch, she’d just dropped Matthew and Adrian right in it. And possibly jeopardised herself and Ana. It wouldn
’t be difficult to arrange a “taxi” for them, driven by God knows whom.
Raging paranoia. But if she couldn’t trust the police, Jaime or even the hotel staff, where the hell was she to get back-up?
By the time Ana came out of the bathroom, Beatrice had convinced herself. She stood in front of Ana with her hands on her hips.
“How long have you known Jaime?”
“About eighteen months or so, why? Ah, Beatrice. Tell me you’re not suspecting him.”
“Think about it. We’ve told him everything. If he’s passing on information to Aguirre, we’ve been undercover investigating in broad daylight.”
“No, he wouldn’t. This is a false alarm. He was the one who put Tiago onto the Saez case.” She checked her watch.
“Which was supposed to lead nowhere. Only Tiago found out rather more than expected. No one else, apart from you and Jaime, knew how much. So how come Aguirre’s mob disposed of him?”
Ana hunched her shoulders. Several seconds passed.
“Jesus. That makes a twisted kind of sense. And Jaime knew enough about Tiago to use me as a lure.”
Beatrice stated the obvious. “Tiago was in love with you, wasn’t he?”
Ana paused. “I suppose so, yeah. I’d picked up a fair few hints. Jaime could have sent him an invitation from my work computer, knowing damn well he’d not be able to resist.”
“On Saturday morning. And of course he wasn’t surprised when Tiago didn’t turn up on Monday. The mutilation of Tiago’s face was a warning to you.”
Beatrice watched Ana’s expression change from horror to incomprehension to anger. In a couple of seconds, her whole demeanour changed and she began pacing the room, gesticulating in every direction.
“I can’t believe this. What a piece of shit! And he went to the funeral! He stood there, expressing the most sincere sympathies for Tiago’s parents, when the whole time he’d set the poor bastard up. I believed he was one of the few people I could trust. What a stupid cow! And I prided myself on not falling for his bullshit charm.”
Beatrice flushed, recalling her own susceptibility. “It’s quite effective, I admit.”
“Thing is, if it was Jaime who gave Aguirre all he needed, does that mean we can trust the police? Should we call Milandro?”
“No. We trust no one. Where’s your Vespa?” She scrabbled in her bag for her phone and began dialling.
“Round the corner. I thought we were getting a cab.”
“Change of plan. And I’d like to leave the hotel via another route than the front door. Ideally, we should get out without being seen. There must be a staff exit or ... Oh hello. Is that Kev? It’s Beatrice here. How’s the trip going? Are you still in Vitoria? Oh good. Listen, Kev, I have a bit of a problem and wondered if you might be able to help.”
“Beatrice ...” Ana had changed channels to a football match.
“Just a sec.” She covered the mouthpiece. “Ana, I’m on the phone.”
“Yes, but ...”
Beatrice scowled and shook her head, returning to the call. “Kev? Sorry about that. The thing is that a friend of mine is in trouble and ...”
“Beatrice!”
The intensity in Ana’s voice made Beatrice turn. Ana wasn’t looking at her, but at the television. She’d switched back from the match to the bunch of suits talking. Beatrice could see nothing of significance. Ana flicked to the football again and back to the panel.
“Kev, bear with me a moment, I’m sorry about this.” She pressed her thumb over the microphone and turned to Ana. “What’s the matter now?”
Ana prodded her finger against the screen, indicating a ponytailed man with stubble and an earring. “That is Julio Villa, Real Madrid’s star striker.”
“And?”
“And, as you can see,” she flicked to the football, where the crowd were leaping up and down and roaring, “he’s just scored a goal against Atlético Madrid.”
“The football’s live?”
“Mm-hmm. People tend to prefer it that way. Which means this ...” she pressed the button to bring back the studio discussion, “... was pre-recorded. As for the current location of Arturo de Aguirre, we haven’t got a bloody clue.”
Chapter 36
Dusk settled over the landscape, light evaporating below the western horizon. A Hunter’s moon offered an eerie monochrome illumination, when not obscured by fast-moving clouds, the last remnants of the afternoon’s storm. Ana scrambled back onto the road and Beatrice gave her the thumbs-up. The scrubby bushes completely concealed the Vespa from view. In silence and with ears alert for the sound of vehicles, they set off into the forest, keeping a parallel course to the driveway to Alava Exports.
The warehouse, a grey malevolent monolith gave no indication of being occupied.
Several kilometres from the nearest village and set back from the main road, with nothing but forest around, it was the perfect place to hide something. If you had something to hide. As they approached, Beatrice could make out the white markings of visitors’ parking spots and the glass windows of reception. A Range Rover and another smaller car occupied the spaces nearest to the door. The drive continued to the right with a sign indicating the lorry route. Beatrice frowned. The delivery bay must be round the back. So how could Adrian and Matthew have seen the girl taken from the car?
Ana stopped frequently to listen and check if they were being followed. Beatrice kept her eyes on the trees ahead, peering for any sign of Adrian and Matthew. She couldn’t decide if the wind were help or hindrance. Trees cracked and whipped, leaves danced in Van Gogh swirls and the absolute lack of human movement both impressed and alarmed her. Of Adrian and Matthew, there was not the smallest indication. Either they were behaving as instructed, keeping quiet and concealed, or, far more likely for the two least restrained men in her acquaintance, they had already been discovered. She sped up, still scanning the forest and walked straight into Ana.
Ana jerked her head to the sedan in front of the vast shuttered bays.
“If that’s the car that brought Luz here, where did those two round the front come from?”
“Just what I was thinking. I wonder if I should call Adrian. Or maybe send a text in case he hasn’t switched his phone to silent.”
“I’m not that stupid.”
The voice made them both start and twist around. From behind a tree trunk, Adrian appeared, followed by Matthew.
Beatrice exhaled. “Thank God. Are you all right?”
“We just had a bit of a fright,” said Adrian. “After I spoke to you, two cars came down the drive. No idea where they went, but a few minutes later, those goons came out of the back and headed straight for us. We retreated further into the forest, but they didn’t come far. They spent a while searching around the edges then went back inside. It was as if they just wanted to scare us off. Beatrice, you look terrible. Are you OK, Ana?”
“I’m grand. How about you two?”
A rather damp and cold-looking Matthew moved towards them, his expression impossible to read.
“We’re fine, although I am unconvinced by the argument for acting alone. A handful of half-baked incompetents versus who knows how many men, probably armed and in possession of a hostage, with no hope of professional back-up. Not only that, but we can’t even speak the language with any degree of accuracy.”
Ana stepped in front of Matthew. “I can. And I’m not incompetent. The thing is, Matthew, we must act quickly because we’re pretty sure Aguirre is heading in this direction. We have to get to Luz before he does. Reinforcements are on the way.”
Matthew’s face, lined and shadowed by lunar light, seemed to contract into a deeper frown. “Reinforcements? You mean your editor, most likely accompanied by a photographer, just to guarantee an exclusive front-page splash?”
Beatrice chose economy of truth. “That’s a good point. We don’t really know how many people are in there, so it might be wiser to wait until the cavalry arrives. The reinforcements are trustworthy, Matthew,
believe me. Let’s approach this logically. When you did the tour today, did you see the whole building? What I mean is, how well do you know the layout?”
Adrian glanced at Matthew. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the reception and offices are at the front. There’s a middle section containing the bottling plant and packing areas.” He pointed to the delivery area. “That section is divided into wine storage on the right and the warehouse section on the left. That’s where they took the girl. It’s stacked with boxes of wine ready for despatch in different sections. UK export was quite clearly marked.”
Beatrice motioned for Adrian to drop his voice. His enthusiasm and conviction had raised his pitch. They stood in silence for several seconds, checking for any sounds or movements in the forest, from the lorry bays or in the building, before Adrian continued in a stage whisper.
“No detail is insignificant, you told me. So I watched Angel Rosado very carefully and decided he is extremely vain, seriously uninformed about his own operations and unquestionably a friend of Dorothy’s.”
“A what?” Ana hissed, her irritation visible. “What in the name of ...”
Again, Beatrice raised a hand for silence.
“In Adrian’s opinion, Angel Rosado is a homosexual,” she said.
Ana snorted. “Bollocks! Would you ever cop yourself on? The man’s married to Aguirre’s daughter. No disrespect, Adrian, but do you not think you maybe got the wrong signals because you were staring at the poor f...”
A torch lit Ana’s face and at the same time, the unmistakeable sound of safety catches being released announced the fact they had company. Another torch joined the first, moving over Adrian, Matthew and shining directly in Beatrice’s eyes. She raised her open hands to shoulder height, blinking into the glare.
A voice, rasping and low, gave an incomprehensible order.
Ana translated. “Hands in the air, turn round and start walking. ”
They made their way through the trees in silence, apart from the sound of a cigarette being lit behind them. Ahead, the huge shutters rolled upward and Beatrice could see the figures of three men silhouetted against walls of white cardboard boxes. They walked out onto the platform to meet them.