by Sara Rosett
Gloria switched to Spanish and had a short conversation. Zoe couldn’t understand Gloria’s words, but the tone was familiar. It reminded Zoe of the conversations she’d had with her mom when she was pleading for something, but her mom remained immovable. After a quick burst of words spoken in a firm tone, Gloria’s voice softened as she said, “Te quiero.”
She ended the call with a shake of her head and transitioned back to English. “Sorry about that. I have to pick up my daughter, even if she would rather stay with a friend a little longer.” She lifted her eyebrows as she glanced at the temple. “Do you want to go inside?”
“No, the line is too long. I may come back tomorrow morning before I pick up the painting. I’m sure the line will be shorter then.”
Gloria shook her head. “There’s no need for that. I can help you get in quickly.”
“Do you know someone who works there?” Zoe asked.
“No. All you need to do is find a handsome man near the front of the line. Smile at him and thank him for holding your place. I’ll distract the guard while you do it in case the man makes a fuss.”
Zoe caught Gloria’s arm because she was already moving toward the temple to put her plan in action. “That’s okay. I’d rather take some pictures out here. Thank you so much for showing me some of Madrid.”
“I hate to leave you so soon. You haven’t seen the Plaza de Cibeles. It’s stunning with an amazing fountain at the center. Don’t miss that. And then of course there’s the Gran Vía,” Gloria said. “It’s like…” she waved her hand in a circular motion as she searched for the right word, “…what’s the name of the busy street in New York with all the restaurants and shops?”
“Broadway?”
“Yes. The Gran Vía is the Broadway of Madrid. You have to go there too.”
“Too many things to see in one day. I’ll just have to do the best I can, and come back and see other things later.”
“And we haven’t even touched on the food.” Gloria looked pained. “Madrid is all about food. You must go to the Mercado de San Miguel. That’s a wonderful food market not far from here. It’s a great place to go for tapas.”
“Don’t look so upset,” Zoe said. “I’ll see what I can, then I’ll have to return and see the rest. I appreciate you getting me started today.”
“It was a pleasure.” Gloria extended her hand. “I hope we get to work together again soon.”
They shook hands, and Gloria departed.
Zoe decided that trying to check everything off the sightseeing list that Gloria had given her would be impossible in one afternoon, so she spent the rest of the day wandering around the city instead. She browsed shops and ate her way through Madrid, stopping to admire the beautiful architecture as she discovered it. She found the mercado that Gloria told her about, a large building that was a food lover’s paradise. The market was crowded with shoppers, and Zoe made her way through the press of people admiring the displays. Pyramids of black and green olives stuffed with meats and cheese filled one stall. A cascade of different types of nuts filled the next stall in shades ranging from dark brown almonds to golden cashews. The seafood counter displayed octopus, eel, and sea urchins packed in ice around the head of a marlin with its spear-like bill extending in the air. The fruit stalls were bursting in vibrant primary colors with green apples, red tomatoes, purple grapes, and yellow bananas plus hosts of berries and melons that Zoe couldn’t identify. And she hadn’t even explored the beer, wine, and pastries.
Her phone rang and she covered her other ear so she could hear Jack as he said, “I got your message. Congratulations on locating the painting.”
“Thanks. Everything should be wrapped up by tomorrow, and I’ll be on my way back. I’m in a food market right now, and I want something from every stall. I don’t even know where to start. I’ll send some pictures.”
“Sounds great. I wish I was there.”
Zoe sighed. “Me, too. It’s another place to add to our travel wish list.”
“Definitely.”
“So how’s London?” Zoe asked.
“It’s a gorgeous day here. Unfortunately, I’ve spent most of it in a conference room. But we got a lot of work done.”
They talked a bit more about Jack’s meeting, then hung up. Zoe took a few photos and sent them to Jack as a feeling of letdown settled over her. The job was over, which was great. She was elated that the painting had been found, and she was happy that she was getting to see Madrid, but it just wasn’t the same without Jack.
Tuesday
The next morning Zoe dragged herself out of bed, showered, and packed her suitcase. The jet lag had caught up with her last night. She turned in early and slept hard until her alarm went off. She hit snooze a few times and wouldn’t be able to do any sightseeing on the way to pick up the painting.
She parked her rolling suitcase at the end of the bed, pocketed her room key card, and slipped her messenger bag over her shoulder. Thacker had contacted her late yesterday, and said he’d also arranged to purchase the Dalí sketch. She’d again tried to bring up the rare blue morpho that she’d bought from LeBlanc, but he’d again cut her off with instructions about taking care of the painting and the sketch.
She’d pick up both pieces of artwork at the gallery this morning then come back to the hotel and check out later. Her flight was in the evening and there was no need for her to drag her suitcase through Madrid.
The day was dazzlingly bright, and Zoe slipped on her sunglasses as she made her way through the busy Puerta del Sol, walking along the route that she and Gloria had taken yesterday. She stopped to have breakfast, a Spanish omelet, which was a simple recipe of eggs, onion, and potato that was served with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and a croissant.
As she came to the gallery door, Zoe checked her watch. It was only a few minutes after eleven, but the door was unlocked, so she stepped into the expensive silence. Unlike yesterday, footfalls did not resound on the hardwood floor the moment the door closed behind her.
She walked around the partitions toward the back. “Luis?”
The counter at the back of the store was empty, and she didn’t see any package labeled with her name waiting for her.
Zoe rotated, scanning the quiet gallery. She moved to the door to the workroom where Gloria had examined the painting. She knocked, waited a moment, then tapped the metal plate at the base of the door with her toe.
“Luis? It’s Zoe. Do you have the paintings—”
The door swung open to reveal Luis sprawled on the floor.
20
Rbn: Everything’s falling apart. It’s not going to work.
Tuck05: What’s happened?
Rbn: They made their move. I don’t have time to explain. I’m leaving, getting out of here, but they know everything—the whole plan.
Tuck05: Whoa. How can they know that?
Rbn: I had to tell them.
Tuck05: You had to tell them?
Rbn: I like my legs and my fingers and my toenails. I wanted to keep them all intact, so I answered their questions.
Tuck05: I can’t believe it! They actually threatened to beat you up?
Rbn: No. They did. I think my nose is broken.
Tuck05: I don’t know what to say. I never thought they’d do that.
Rbn: Yeah, me either. But I’m out.
Tuck05: That’s crazy. After all you’ve done? Just lie low for a while. It’s already in process, right?
Rbn: I will be lying low, but in a place far away from here. And it’s too late. They’ve already gone after it. They probably have it by now.
Tuck05: No, I heard from my contact. Everything went according to plan. It’ll be out of the country in a few hours.
Rbn: You don’t understand—they beat me up and I told them everything. They’ll go get it. They’ll do whatever they have to. Sorry, man. It would have been great, if it worked. Later.
Tuck05: Let me check and get back to you.
…
…
Tuck05: You there?
…
…
Tuck05: Hey, don’t mess around. It’s too important to give up now.
…
…
Tuck05: Ok. Fine. I’ll follow up myself. Even if you bail, I won’t.
Zoe dropped to her knees beside Luis. He was stretched out on his stomach with his arms at his side and his cheek pressed against the floor. Zoe felt a wash of relief as she saw his shoulder blades flex slightly. He was breathing, at least.
“Luis?” She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle shake, but his eyes remained closed, and he didn’t move or react.
Zoe didn’t see an obvious injury, but she didn’t want to attempt to move him. Was it a stroke or heart attack or some sort of seizure? A burst of noise from the street filled the air for a moment, filtering in through the door that Zoe had left open. The sounds cut off. Someone had come into the gallery.
Zoe hurried out of the workroom and saw the young woman with the dramatic eyeliner who had arrived yesterday when Gloria was authenticating the painting. She again wore a white shirt and a narrow dark skirt and high heels, obviously her work uniform. What was her name…Pippa? No, Pilar.
“Pilar, I’m so glad you’re here. Luis is…” Zoe paused at Pilar’s confused expression. Zoe tried to remember the word for injured, but her mind went blank. “He’s hurt…um…enfermo,” Zoe said, settling on what she hoped was the word for “sick.”
Even though Pilar didn’t seem to understand Zoe’s words, her attitude must have conveyed the urgency of the situation because when Zoe pointed to the back room Pilar dropped her bag on the counter and followed Zoe quickly.
Pilar crouched beside Luis, exclaiming in Spanish. She tapped Luis’s shoulder and when she didn’t get a reaction, she looked up at Zoe, her eyes wide. She let out a string of Spanish. Zoe could tell from the inflection at the end of the sentences that they were questions, but that was all Zoe could grasp. She certainly didn’t have any answers, and shrugged her shoulders. “Ambulance?”
Pilar nodded, jumped up and went back to the gallery and opened her bag. Zoe was glad she didn’t have to attempt to make the call. Her Spanish vocabulary had shrunk under stress. Within seconds Pilar was describing the situation in a voice that shook. She returned to the workroom and said a few sentences in Spanish, then saw Zoe’s blank look and switched to English. “Soon. Help, soon.”
Zoe nodded and mimed that she would go to the front and watch for the ambulance. Since the gallery only had one entrance the paramedics—or EMTs or whatever they were called in Spain—would have to come in that way. It only took a few moments for them to arrive, and Zoe pointed the pair of young men to the workroom, then followed them.
They set to work, checking over Luis with an air of calm efficiency that reassured Zoe. Surely if Luis was in serious danger, their actions and attitude wouldn’t seem so routine. One of the men asked Pilar a series of questions as they worked, which she answered, and then she began relaying questions to Zoe in broken English, asking if Luis had fallen and how long ago it had happened.
Zoe shrugged. “I don’t know.” They understood and stopped asking questions.
Pilar stood beside Zoe, her hand pressed over her heart as she watched the paramedics. Zoe asked her, “What do they think happened?”
She shook her head. “They don’t know.”
The tone of the conversation between the paramedics changed, drawing Zoe’s attention back to them. The men were bent over Luis’s neck, examining something under his ear. Luis had on a different suit today, navy with a thin pinstripe. Above the collar of his white dress shirt Zoe could see two small red marks about an inch apart on his neck. She couldn’t follow the rapid pace of their sentences, except for one word that came through clearly—Taser.
21
“Why are you…” Pilar looked at the ceiling for a moment as she searched for the English word, then shook her head and seemed to give up “aquí?”
Zoe glanced from Pilar to the policeman who stood beside her. “Why am I here?” Zoe repeated back to Pilar. “I came to pick up the artwork, of course.” Zoe was so frazzled that she didn’t even attempt to translate her reply into Spanish. The words “painting” and “butterfly” had not been part of her vocabulary in Spanish class.
Two police officers had arrived a few minutes ago. After a hurried conversation with the paramedics, the police officers had taken charge. One officer had changed the sign on the door to “closed” and motioned for Zoe and Pilar to go to the back counter, where Officer Alina waited, pen poised to take down their information. When he realized Zoe didn’t speak much Spanish, he had used Pilar’s broken English along with a few words that he knew, to ask questions.
Zoe took out her phone. “Let me find somebody who can interpret for us.” She dialed Gloria’s number and breathed a sigh of relief when she answered. Zoe quickly told her what had happened.
“Luis is unconscious? Terrible!” She gave the word it’s Spanish pronunciation.
“Yes, the police are here now and it’s…well, we’re not communicating very well. My Spanish isn’t up to the task, and the police don’t speak much English.”
“I’m not far away. Let me ask my neighbor if she can stay with my daughter. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Zoe turned to Pilar. “Gloria will be here soon.”
Pilar looked as shaken up as Zoe. Tears had glazed her eyes earlier when the paramedics transferred Luis to the ambulance, and now her elaborate eyeliner was smudged, giving her raccoon eyes. Before the ambulance left, Pilar had a rapid-fire discussion with one of the paramedics. When they closed the ambulance doors and drove away, Zoe asked what they thought had happened to Luis. Pilar touched her forehead. She mimed something hitting her head and pointed to the floor, adding, “mal,” before closing her eyes.
Didn’t “mal” mean “bad?” Zoe interpreted the pantomime to mean that the paramedics thought that after Luis was Tasered, he’d hit his head on the floor, which in the workroom was exposed concrete.
Pilar seemed to understand that Gloria was on the way. She sniffed and nodded as she tried to translate Zoe’s reply for the waiting police officer. Officer Alina jotted something down in his notebook.
Zoe’s phone buzzed with a text. She saw Jack had replied to the text she’d sent him a few moments ago with the news about Luis. Changing flight reservations now. My meeting is over. Instead of flying home, I’m coming to Madrid.
Zoe began typing a reply when another text from him came in. Don’t bother to tell me not to come. I’m halfway to the airport already. The first flight I could get arrives later tonight.
The thought that Jack would arrive in a few hours was comforting. She texted back. No way would I try to stop you. Glad you’re coming.
Officer Alina must have decided not to wait for Gloria because he was asking another question, indicating that Pilar should translate. Zoe slipped her phone into her pocket as Pilar said, “Where is the artwork?”
“I don’t have it. I found Luis as soon as I arrived.” Zoe looked over the counter again, but didn’t see two packages anywhere.
Pilar spoke to Officer Alina, and after a short exchange between them, Pilar went behind the counter and searched the drawers and cabinets. After a few moments she turned back to Zoe. “Not here.” Officer Alina must have picked up on the meaning of the words because his gaze immediately went to Zoe’s messenger bag.
He said something to Pilar. She said, “He wants to look in your bag.”
“I don’t have the painting or the sketch.” With a flare of anger, Zoe unfastened the clasps and opened the mouth of her messenger bag. “No artwork.” The bag was getting heavier every day that went by. Right now, a sweater, a Madrid map, and one of the fans she’d bought yesterday were on top.
It was only after she tossed back the flap and stretched the bag wide that a conspiracy theory scenario flashed through her mind. What if someone had slipped something�
�like a Taser…into her bag as she walked through the crowded Puerta del Sol, and it had fallen to the bottom of the bag? Could someone have done that without her knowing? No, surely not. She gave herself a mental shake. The tension of the situation was getting to her, she decided. Don’t be silly, she lectured herself. Her messenger bag had been fastened securely.
She shifted the contents around, and her heart rate drifted back into a normal range as it became clear that the next strata of the bag only contained her wallet, passport, lip gloss, and a pocket-sized guide to Madrid that she’d picked up at the airport.
The officer then turned to Pilar, his gaze going to her large handbag that sat on the counter. Her eyebrows crunched down, and she looked offended. But after Officer Alina said a few more words, Pilar picked up her bag. With her lips pressed into a narrow line, she opened it and showed that it did not contain either a Taser or two pieces of artwork wrapped for transport.
The gallery door opened, and Gloria swept in, her mass of brown hair bouncing around her shoulders as her heels clicked across the wood floor. Today she wore a bright yellow dress with a wide white belt and an A-line skirt that fluttered around her knees.
Officer Alina took a step forward, hand raised, clearly indicating that she was not to be on the premises, but Gloria turned up the wattage on her smile as she spoke to him in a torrent of Spanish. Within a few moments he nodded, his resistance melting away.
Gloria moved to give Zoe a quick embrace. She lowered her voice. “I’ve convinced him that I’m an old friend of yours, and he says I can stay to interpret, but only until the police interpreter arrives.”
Zoe’s heart sank. A police interpreter was on the way? She had hoped that she could convince Officer Alina that she had nothing to do with this attack on Luis—because obviously they were treating it as a criminal attack, but if a police interpreter was coming, then it didn’t sound like it would be wound up quickly. And now it looked like it was a robbery as well.