Enrique rejected this outright. He would be damned before agreeing to sell off EVOO in bulk, whatever the market price. He contended they would make far more money bottling it themselves and retailing this litre by carefully packaged litre. It would take longer, but the end income would be much higher than selling all in Lili's single job lot.
She'd tried to assert the cash flow benefit. Her heart wasn't in it. Enrique ignored her reasoning. His Super High Density trellises were his light to lead them from the wasteland of this year's fly-ruined harvest. To reinforce his attitude, Soledad's constant carping about his vines-as-olives had entrenched Enrique's views in fly-reinforced concrete.
Lili heard a mini-commotion. Enrique knocked and burst in.
"We may have a breakthrough. There's a possible way to separate infested from good olives using computers and imaging, though it's neither cheap nor fast. But it seems it may work. I am expecting details for how to assemble our own scanning system."
Lili wanted to join in his enthusiasm. It was in vain. Her words revealed her lack of encouragement.
"More expense?"
"Yes, but it can be re-used, over and over. It depends on an array of Raspberry Pi computer boards with a camera. All we need do is build an array, adapt some available software, add some plastic runs for the individual olives, plus a selection system before testing."
"That's all? What difference can it make? The solution sounds slow and will be too little, too late. We're screwed."
"I refuse to give in. Yes, you raise valid objections. If it works we'll have to harvest later than usual, possibly weeks later. But that's not unusual. It happens elsewhere and we've two things going for us. The extra time will mean fewer infested olives on the trees and, if the method of discarding infected olives works, we may still produce some quality Extra Virgin Olive Oil from the normal groves for a market now desperate for it. Trying anything is better than giving up. You know who told me? María. I always forget she trained as an industrial engineer specialising in applied hardware. She's coming over later today with the pieces to build a first system."
"Good for her. How much will you spend?"
"She thinks her trial version will cost under 500 euros. As for a production one, that'll depend on the throughput."
Lili floundered. She could think of no sensible response. What was the point when all was lost? Tidal waves of despondency washed through her. By the time she calmed Enrique was gone.
Listlessly she found her ringing mobile and answered. Lili perked up a little on hearing Inma's voice, sufficient for her to describe the chasm between Enrique's and her view of claiming on the insurance policies.
"Am I hearing you right, Lili? Are you saying the infestation was man-made?"
"Possibly, yes."
"Why haven't I heard of this before?"
"It's not common knowledge. It may be unprovable."
"Nevertheless, if validated, it could change many aspects. I must understand. Urgently. Remember us talking of repeating the interrupted weekend in Yuste? How about this coming one?"
Lili felt helpless, again. Two hours ago she was wishing for this. Now her hopeless position was catching up. Inma insisted and Lili had to find out when Olivos Ramos y Tremblay would collapse. Not knowing was unbearable. By visiting Inma she might discover the timing of its, and her, demise. Was it worth it driving so far just to know?
"Yes, I'd be happy to come."
"You don't sound it."
"I hear a funeral march."
"Come on, Lily. Don't be melodramatic. Nothing's that bad. Bring as much information as possible, verified or rumour, and we'll dissect what might apply. And you can try to have a good weekend."
Lili grunted. She wasn't consoled but at least there was something to look forward to away from Úbeda.
Tuesday: Madrid
Ana arrived first. Two hours later Inma hadn't appeared. Ana hoped Inma wasn't blaming her for yesterday's revelations from Tallinn, the total disappearance of not only Toomas, Reelika and their office, but also the whole Estonian syndicate.
Inma's shock had showed. Nevertheless, Ana had the impression that Inma was expecting something like this. How? Ana didn't know. There'd been a tilt to Inma's head to feed Ana's suspicion.
She restarted work on her latest project. It did not excite. While manifesting the economic potential to bring in a decent income it drooled method over creativity, sufficient to dampen any enthusiasm. To distract herself, Ana searched the Internet for fly news, discovering no shortage. Ruin thrived in Andalucía as political parties vied to criticise while promising unrealistic assistance. Standard Spanish politics where hot air exceeded practicality. Was it the same in other countries?
Ana mulled over Lili and Enrique's plight. By contacting Inma, Lili had lifted Inma's objection to talking with them. This meant Inma and Ana knew what they faced. Little would be positive for Lili and Enrique, or anyone in the olive business in Andalucía.
Ana twisted her watch strap. It wasn't long before she lunched with Davide's lawyer. Gallantly, he'd invited her to a place her father had liked, until he fell out with the owner. While they had made up, she hoped neither her father nor the owner would be there, as explanations would bring more complications.
Her phone pinged. A message from Señor Delafuente proposed a change of meeting place, to a Peruvian restaurante unknown to Ana. Better still, its address was much closer.
She stared at her papers and her concentration died. She wrote a note for Inma, donned her jacket and decided to shop on the way. Intimissimi and its like should provide an unsuitable distraction until lunch. If she found anything to her liking this could only be a bonus.
An hour later Ana pushed at modest glass doors and entered a large room with old-fashioned cast-iron pillars organised in narrow serried rows, the metalwork painted in black with stone supports in white. Sparsely decorated walls, many revealing the original brickwork, radiated an impression of modern originality combined with tradition.
She asked for Señor Delafuente and was whisked to his table. He stood. As before, Ana gave him a hug and kiss before passing on Davide's best wishes. He beamed. It was unclear whether this was attributable to her affectionate greeting, which remained a trifle odd for a lawyer she'd met only once, or the message from Davide. She didn't mind. She warmed to Señor Delafuente. He exhibited manners with imagination plus an interest in his client.
After they ordered he discomfited Ana.
"I was at your grandmother's funeral. Of course you wouldn't notice me amongst so many. She was truly delightful."
"How did you know her?"
"That would be telling." Señor Delafuente's face displayed doubt, but only for a moment. "I guess it doesn't matter now. For a period we were very close, possibly too close, in spite of an age gap of more than twenty years. The truth is I fell for her. Of course, nothing could happen. Eventually I made myself scarce. She was lovely, not only on the eye, but for her inner self."
The tiniest tear welled before it leaked from one eye. He sought his handkerchief, hitherto an unblemished white tucked into his suit's breast pocket. Ana hadn't a clue how to respond. It was so unexpected.
Señor Delafuente recovered. On impulse Ana extended her hand, to cover the back of his. For a moment both reminisced in silence, summoning very different images of La Abuela. They shared a moment of celebration for someone they both treasured. Once it passed Señor Delafuente resumed.
"To business. I've read your grandmother's file. It's an interesting tale, one not half as uncommon as you might think."
He continued by adding details he knew or had found out. He told Ana more about the properties involved, handing over a list with some approximate values. These included a rundown palacio in Plasencia, various apartments in Madrid and Alicante and a couple of substantial fincas around the Sierra de Mariola.
According to Señor Delafuente there were some art works of dubious provenance. Her maternal grandmother's family had a well-known trait
for treating any painting as if it was a long lost El Greco, Goya, Velázquez, Zurbarán or whomever if the merest hint of a hint of a hint of resemblance was apparent. Ana smiled at his words, and even more as he described how each dubious claim had been refuted one by one.
"You won't make any fortune there, unless you are good at concocting a story. Or finding desperate, over-monied Russian or Chinese buyers."
He changed topic to raise the title that came with the inheritance.
Ana cut him short with, "I'm not interested. I'm unsure how much you know. My parents have been – how shall I put it? – over-zealous in trying to acquire a noble handle for themselves or, failing that, for one of their children. It won't be me."
His reaction to her resolution evinced no surprise. She'd only restated common knowledge or gossip. There was little difference.
"That may make matters simpler. Even today titles, whether great or small, provoke a disproportionate greed, or hilarity from those regarding them as ridiculous. This leaves one last major issue. This is whether your maternal great-grandmother had a twin and if so what happened. On this I'm ignorant. I've never heard of any other baby. But I'd never heard of your grandmother's version either. In those confused times, anything was possible."
"What should I do?"
"Deciding the way forwards depends a great deal on the existence or otherwise of a sibling and whether they had or have any issue. You do realise, don't you, my dear, there is the possibility that another family is as uncertain as you about whether you exist and are about to make a claim?"
Ana sat up. Señor Delafuente's scenario wasn't impossible. What might it imply?
Señor Delafuente sympathised.
"If I may recommend?" Señor Delafuente emphasized his question with his eyes. "Good. The next stage should try to ascertain whether there was another twin and what happened. I believe this'll be easier for an ancient lawyer like myself than for you. I might be enquiring on any client's behalf. This'll incur some fees but I estimate no more than a couple of thousand Euros, plus any incurred costs."
Ana accepted. La Abuela, in her foresight, had provided.
"That's fine. La Abuela's gift more than covers this. When can you start?"
"I already have."
A stimulating two hours later, for Señor Delafuente was excellent company, Ana switched on her mobile to find three messages. One was from Inma stating she need not return to the office at any particular time. She also apologised for being late. An apology from Inma was unusual.
The other two messages were from Kjersti. The first reciprocated Ana's sentiments sent from the plane in Helsinki. Although Kjersti had replied on Sunday, the first message only arrived today. The second, which arrived during lunch, asked Ana to call Kjersti on Wednesday evening at nine, giving a specified landline number. This surprised Ana. What did Kjersti want?
Tuesday: Úbeda
Enrique hopped from one foot to the other outside his office in the pueblo, feeling a bundle of tensions. The Super High Density harvester was due to arrive to start its three days of contracted work tomorrow. Judgement of the quality of this year's Super High Density quality loomed. The range of possible outcomes made him twitch.
Enrique stretched his already taut nerves. María was overdue. She'd promised to be there by nine. It was past eleven. There was no sign of her, nor could he reach her by phone. What was going on?
A rumble rose from along the road into the pueblo. He headed over to explore. A low loader crawled forward bearing the harvester, a machine taller, larger and far more complex than he'd expected. He supposed it had to be big for reaching above the trellises as well as along their sides. The visible complexity explained the cost. Perhaps one day Olivos Ramos y Tremblay could afford its own but not this year.
The driver parked the low loader in the area reserved for trucks and other agricultural equipment too big to enter the pueblo's narrow streets. Enrique made polite conversation as the operator prepared to drive the harvester from its trailer. He asked if it would help to preposition the harvester by the Super High Density grove. Yes it would, for they must rehearse. The coordination of harvester and the trailers receiving the olives required practice. Enrique walked the operator along the track to the grove and indicated where the machine could enter as well as turn. The operator complimented Enrique.
"You're well prepared. This is your first trellis harvest? Impressive. Usually the first season is a screw up. It doesn't look like it will be here. We may even be done in two days."
Enrique glowed at the compliment. It pleased him to hear others appreciate his professionalism.
"I'd rather we took the full three days, even four. I don't want to overwhelm the mills and have olives waiting and oxidising. With the volume your machine can pick in an hour that is a risk."
"You prefer four days? We've no booking for Saturday. If you'll pay the additional labour cost you can have the harvester for the additional day at the original rental price."
"Wonderful! It's a deal!"
They shook on it before Enrique returned to the pueblo office well satisfied. Lili wouldn't be. Too bad. Four days' rental for the price of three would reduce the pressure on the intermediate mill. This was starting well.
He rounded the corner near his office to bump into María's car. She was here, at last. Enrique rushed inside to find her unpacking boxes of cables and equipment.
"There you are. I thought you must've given up on me."
"Could I do that?"
They tapped each other, cheek to cheek. There was no need. They knew each other too well for such politeness. Usually, Enrique now remembered, they didn't bother. Was there a stiffness to María? Almost a wariness?
María's reactions were different. Enrique had lost weight over the last weeks, even more in the days since she'd last seen him. Some loss was good but this was too much. He had acquired the pallor and walk of a junky, despite the sun. He needed fixing.
"What do you have here, with all these boxes and wires?"
"That'd be telling. But you can give me a hand bringing the rest in here."
Hours later Lili found Enrique and María assembling what looked like a line of eyeballs connected by fine cables to a vertical toaster. Asking for an explanation, she learnt the so-called toaster was an assembly of Raspberry Pi boards, with each board connected to four eyeball cameras. This left her no wiser.
She stayed to watch. María and Enrique worked well together, relaxed and harmonious. It was productive, even engrossing, to observe Enrique being ordered about and performing all he was instructed to do without question.
A quarter of an hour passed before Lili interrupted, saying to Enrique, "On Thursday afternoon I'm travelling to Yuste to resolve the insurance situation with Inma on Friday. Will you update me about who's found what on or before Thursday morning? I want to be sure what I tell her is up to date."
"That's good. Of course."
"I'll leave you to it. Will you join us for dinner, María?"
The invitation startled María, who had never been invited by Lili to anything. To be fair, she'd deliberately stayed out of Lili and Enrique's way in Úbeda when she married Juan and set up home in Córdoba. She raised querying eyebrows at Enrique. He didn't notice.
"Gracias. I would like to."
Lili disappeared. Next on María's list were some experimental plastic runs or chutes along which the olives would travel to the eyeballs. After that came software loading, which shouldn't take long, followed by system testing, which would.
When satisfied all the pieces functioned together María would recommend a trial sample. Each trial olive would be inspected by one of the eyeball cameras and evaluated by the software for acceptance or rejection. They would cut open each tested olive to see if the computer categorisation was accurate together with assessing the numbers of false positives and false negatives.
María had explained all this to Enrique. She would probably have to repeat herself. A negative was where there was
no evidence of infestation. A positive was where indications of infestation were evident. A false positive was an olive rejected even though it was uninfected. A false negative was an olive accepted as good when it was infested. False positives wasted good olives but would not affect the quality of the olive oil. False negatives were the enemy. These harmed the output of otherwise good olives.
They worked on until Enrique's mobile sounded. Lili was informing him it was time to eat. The day had passed in a trice. Where María would sleep had not been discussed. María didn't care. Compared to the loss of a harvest, such trifles resolved themselves. She might even return here after dinner. The excitement of constructing a sorting solution thrilled her. It was intoxicating. She loved it.
Wednesday: Tallinn
Andrei was enjoying himself. Although his Spanish was feeble, he delighted in the success of his insect friends. From what he read, their many Bactrocera oleae were performing beyond expectations, at least until a late heatwave slowed their onslaught.
At the caviar-laden dinner, Oleg had opened up about the laundered first proceeds and why he expected more. This encouraged Andrei to buy a portable hard disk. Everything he could find concerning the flies he saved: articles, photos, charts, academic analyses, radio and TV programs, podcasts – the lot. He was assembling his digital fly collage to enjoy at leisure in the future.
What still amazed Andrei was that he could wreak such misery with a few olives and four adapted tennis ball serving machines. If what he recorded was accurate he had reduced an industry to its knees in not one but several Spanish provinces. What power! It exceeded the enjoyment of his short adventures with the KGB, and even during his criminal career. Had Oleg ever experienced the same kick when in the FSB?
The best aspect was the flies had now bred. All Andrei had to do was wait for the remainder of Oleg's nice, clean, laundered money to roll in when he would up sticks and disappear. The only snag was his uncertainty of where to go.
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