Virginity Despoiled

by Charles Brett

  María threw her arms round herself. She must push him. She moved towards him.

  The coffin now disappeared, the grave closed and the image dissolved. How would he respond? Would it reappear?

  Tuesday: Benidorm

  After parking the Cinquecento Ana and Kjersti entered the hotel. Kjersti performed her charm act and their room became available. To Ana, it was American style, with two double beds and a good balcony.

  "At least I don't have to sleep in your arms."

  It was a waspish way for Ana to force the defusing of an unknown. Ana had decided on the drive to Benidorm she must say something. She did not wish to discover the trip was an elaborate pretext for Kjersti to seduce her. Ana wasn't that way inclined, not even after exposure to Inma or Emilia.

  "Don't worry, ma petite. I am neither gay nor bi. I've no desire to go down that road, though Freja and another friend have been known to explore. But they explore everything."

  Ana, relieved that the subject was in the open and her fears denied, expressed curiosity. In her usual acerbic fashion, Kjersti replayed Freja and Helga's reprise of their performances with Andrei, in their words a ladies' man much in love with his own manliness. Ana enjoyed the vicarious thrill.

  "This is the Andrei we're going to meet?"

  "Yes, except I'm going to meet him. You're to stay at a safe distance."

  "You're afraid of him?"

  "You bet. One of the items Helga shared was that he has a vicious temper. In physical shape he's a well-built brute, muscular, the sort of guy who chops bricks with his hands for light amusement. Not a person to get close to, unless I have to."

  "Then you shouldn't."

  "I think I'm okay. He knows me. He knows Oleg and I were together."

  "Off limits?"

  "That's a good way of putting it. What I do want is for you to stay at least fifty metres away with this camera. I'll also have a mobile phone in my front jacket pocket. Its speaker will be set on minimum volume so he won't hear anything, but the mic will relay everything he and I say, to you. Connected beforehand, you'll hear and record on your phone."

  "Seems like you're prepared for the worst."

  "Better that than being roughed over or killed. It's happened to colleagues."

  "Where will you meet?"

  "He suggested his hotel. It's that expensive one over there."

  Kjersti ran through the agreed arrangements. He would bring the car. They would exchange the money and sign the papers, including the contract Ana had drafted. Ana would sit listening on the promenade. When finished, Kjersti would ride the streets for ten to fifteen minutes to lose any potential follower before meeting Ana at this hotel.

  "If you think anything's wrong, call the police or an ambulance."

  If Ana was disconcerted, Kjersti was relaxed. This calm alone raised the fear of God in Ana.

  "Think positive. With my 'new jalopy' you won't need me to drive you to Madrid."

  The opposite was true. Ana enjoyed Kjersti's company. It was so unlike anything else. With the fear of seduction eliminated, she was to be denied good company.

  "I do have one uncertainty. Should I ask questions about olives or should we wait for more information to turn up in Úbeda? When we left my expectation was to start asking here. Now I'm not sure."

  Ana could offer no advice. Out of her depth, she kept her peace, letting Kjersti think her way through.

  "We've half an hour. Let's prepare."

  Forty minutes later, Ana sprawled on an uncomfortable bench on the promenade across the road from Andrei's hotel. To appear busy she took occasional pictures of the better-looking men or absurdly-dressed women, and of one guy in a pair of swimming shorts shaped like a thong with both buttocks displayed to the world. Not a savoury sight.

  All the while Ana listened to Kjersti's commentary as she walked to the hotel. Outside was a battered León but no sign of Andrei.

  Kjersti stood by the car. All of a sudden, Andrei bounded from the hotel's revolving door. In black he was large and menacing yet good-looking, if one didn't mind a head merged into the torso. In his case a neck was surplus. He dwarfed Kjersti.

  Ana took pictures of the car, Andrei and Kjersti. To mask her actions, she swivelled to capture two tourists, sunburned the colour of Orange Fanta. From the phone the interaction was smooth. They exchanged documents and money. Andrei handed over the keys, bending to kiss Kjersti. She suggested lunch or dinner. Andrei declined, but agreed that if there was any problem with the car, Kjersti could find him at this hotel until Thursday afternoon. He was returning to Germany later that day.

  He retreated into the hotel.

  Kjersti started the car and drove off.

  "That was easy. See you back at our place."

  For no particular reason Ana stayed put. She took more photos of the ridiculous. She'd never been to Benidorm before. It possessed no appeal for another visit.

  When about to head back to meet Kjersti, Ana's eye was caught by a glint reflecting from the moving circular hotel doors. Andrei and a companion appeared, arm-in-arm. Ana took a couple of pictures before they donned sunglasses. Headed towards an outdoor restaurant, they looked happy together.

  Back in their hotel Ana waited at the bar, drinking a solitary Coke. Kjersti was taking her time. Was there a problem?

  Kjersti finally arrived to explain.

  "I couldn't find anywhere to park. The car's awful, not worth 1,000 euros. Let's try selling it. Have you ever heard of Callosa or Murcia?"

  "Yes. Callosa's nearby; Murcia's about an hour or more south, if you mean the city."

  "Look at this paper. I found it stuck down the side of the passenger seat."

  Ana unfolded it. She would need to wash her hands. It was sticky and unpleasant but revealed two diagrams, connected by a line marked AP7/A7/A30. The diagrams had labels with Callosa and Murcia.

  "The AP7 is the road from here to Alicante. The A7 goes from Alicante to Murcia and on to Granada and Seville. I'm not sure but I think the A30 goes from Murcia towards the sea."

  "Is Callosa close?"

  "Hang on, let me consult the phone oracle. Yes. I estimate less than three-quarters of an hour away."

  "Let's go, but in my 'new' car. Who knows what other goodies we may find in it?"

  Tuesday: Madrid

  Ana's desertion irked Inma. It was tolerable last week when Inma wanted time to herself. Now, when Ana was needed, she wasn't available and nor did Inma know when she would be. Had it been a mistake to make her a business partner? No, her utility was immense and Inma enjoyed working with her cousin.

  To her consternation Inma wanted to talk with her like they used to when Ana was at her lowest over Davide. Elevation to business partnership meant their openness to share personal issues had receded. Initially, Inma had been pleased. Now she felt a sense of loss. Was it possible to restore familiarity? She wasn't convinced, and this occurred just when she needed support.

  Lili was driving Inma crazy. No, memories of Lili were. She was unable to suppress them, even during her most demanding exercise routines. At her current workout rate she would be fitter than any fiddle by the weekend. Never had she pushed herself so hard, solely in the so far vain attempt to exhaust herself into thoughtlessness.

  Her phone had rung. The screen identified Davide. This seemed unusual. It'd been some time since he'd been in touch, apart from via email.

  Having exchanged greetings and expressing her surprise at his call, Inma came to the point.

  "How can I help?"

  "Do you know where Ana is?"

  "Not exactly."

  "That sounds like obfuscation. Are you hiding something? Is she?"

  "I'm not. If she is, she's hiding it from me too. At the weekend she was in Úbeda picking olives with Enrique and Lili. She muttered something I didn't catch about going to Benidorm with a Norwegian journalist she met in Tallinn."

  "Can you get hold of her? I can't."

  "Not sure. I can try. Why?"

  "H
as she told you about Toomas and Reelika? Good. How about Andrei and Oleg?"

  "No. Who are they?"

  "Two unsavoury ex-KGB types. Oleg's also ex-FSB. They're a pair of thugs. Please tell – no, instruct – Ana to avoid contact with either until I've talked to her. There's a connection between these two and Toomas. I'm not sure if Reelika's connected too. Her involvement's less clear."

  "What've you been doing?"

  Davide reeled off a swift summary of Ana's request to find out more after Toomas and Reelika and the vanished investment partners. He described how he had used some of Caterina's software, which produced results that scared him. To put it into context Inma should factor in a blend of Baltic politics, Russian territorial ambitions, oligarch-like greed and simple criminality.

  Inma absorbed. She was surprised. It was unlike Ana to play in such murky waters. In fairness it had been Inma who had sent Ana towards Toomas in the first place. She thought through her next question, not wishing to pry yet wanting to know where Ana stood.

  "Dare I ask how Caterina is?"

  Silence greeted this sally. It persisted.

  "Did Ana not tell you? Clearly not. Toast. Fully burned to a crisp and discarded. That's me."

  Inma could not prevent herself. Her laugh escaped when she should have contained it.

  "As droll as a summation as I've heard in a long time. Caterina?"

  "I don't know. I would like to say I don't care."

  "But you do?"

  "I do. Not to be anywhere near. She's not bad. She is, however, horrible to be with for longer than a week. Australia is, too. Tried that. Done that. Departed."

  "You tell me little in minimal words. You haven't changed."

  "Haven't I? It's not how I feel. Shrivelled. Older. Possibly wiser. Not encumbered."

  "Except by Ana."

  "Not even by her. I made a mistake. That's history."

  "You should have waited."

  "I should. Tio Toño's consanguinity revelation scared me off."

  "Hasn't she explained? It's no longer relevant."

  "She did, and about some possible inheritance. It's better I stay out of the way. But she must, must, must keep away from Toomas. He's a crook through and through. She should avoid Oleg too. He plays mind games, while Andrei's a man-mountain with a reputation for violence. That's what you must emphasise to Ana."

  "You may be misjudging your reception."

  "Thank you, Inma. I know you mean well. Pass on the warning, please."

  Davide killed the connection before Inma could add more. How unsatisfactory! Davide was pushing Ana away with the same enthusiasm as Ana desired the reverse. Inma would send Davide an email later to encourage him without saying too much. If only Davide would reappear in Spain.

  Inma called Ana. Receiving no answer, she sent a message, warning her about Oleg and Andrei and from where the warning originated. She hoped Ana would take notice with Kjersti being with her. Kjersti had a fire in her that might drag Ana anywhere.

  Next Inma phoned Lili. Enrique answered her phone.

  "Looking for Lili? She's absorbed in a tasting of the Super High Density Extra Virgin Olive Oil, trying to make a decision about whether we make our normal blend of Picual and Arbequina, or separate ones of each, or do all three. I'm opting for the last."

  "The oil's that good?"

  "Not our best ever, but close. Close enough in a year when how much we'll be able to make remains unknown."

  "Are you any further forward in discovering if the pestilence was man-made?"

  "Not a step. All we have as 'evidence' are the atypical Blanquetas. Without additional confirmation, or evidence of deliberate wrong-doing, there's no point informing any authorities. What could they do? Chase a million flies with flashing blue lights and interrogate them about where they originated? I don't think so."

  "You're becoming cynical."

  "I try not to be. María's Olive Inspection Machines work. We may need to claim less on the insurance than Lili once thought. But that applies only to Olivos Ramos y Tremblay. Whether others can repeat what María's achieved, I haven't a clue. I hope so. We'll process Soledad's olives, though that'll stretch our capabilities. The rest is up to whether others can replicate María's sorting machines."

  "Don't give up. Ignore the insurance. Do the more vital work. Give Lili a kiss from me and if she has time, ask her to call me. It was good seeing her last weekend."

  "She thought so too. She is revitalised. I don't know what you administered but I see the old Lili. Thank you, Inma."

  Wednesday: Murcia

  The León was sold, just; not for 1,000 euros but 250 to a scrap yard. The body was lousy but there were, so the scrapyard owner claimed, at least 500 euros worth of spare parts. Once Kjersti understood she tried to negotiate. She deployed every wile. The Valenciano in the scrapyard was beguiled but unable to speak Spanish wrecked Kjersti's appeal for an improved offer.

  Now, past Murcia, Ana and Kjersti searched for the second of the sites delineated on the paper scrap. Yesterday's trip to Callosa had been fruitless and the León's wheezing discomfort had convinced Kjersti's to dispose of it. Ana re-examined the sticky paper.

  "This is where it may get tricky. The diagram isn't as precise as for Callosa and, God knows, that was hard enough. It was lucky when we stopped that the neighbour recognised the SEAT and pointed out where we needed to go."

  Kjersti, driving the Cinquecento, considered. Ana was right. They couldn't expect such luck again, though she was relieved to sell the crappy León. No wonder Andrei had been so eager. She wouldn't want it hanging round her neck.

  "Turn right at that sign. I think we're near."

  Kjersti did as directed. They crawled along a single track road. Occasionally there were passing points. A T-junction appeared.

  "Left or right?"

  "I don't know. Can you see anything?"

  Kjersti panned across the empty landscape, scanning for any hint that might assist today's quest.

  "No. Wait! Over on the right! Is that a big roof? Could it be like yesterday?"

  "In what way? Shall we look?"

  Kjersti responded by gunning the engine and turning right. The road deteriorated further. Crawling was now optimistic. Kjersti took care. She knew how much Ana prized her toy car.

  They rounded a hillock and, in a dip, stood an industrial building similar to the one in Callosa, though larger and less rundown. Part of the problem with Callosa was it had all but collapsed. They could only peer inside, which told them zilch. Nature had taken over. The roof had fallen in and animal tracks were all around.

  Kjersti switched off the engine. Would this place tell them anything? She hoped so. The alternative was to beetle back to Benidorm to confront Andrei. Hell and damnation! With the León sold there was now no reason to contact him. She'd not anticipated that when she'd insisted on the scrapyard. It was too late for regrets.

  Gingerly, they edged up to the main door. They pushed at it and it opened. That it was not locked wasn't a good omen. They found themselves in what appeared to be a large hangar lined with hundreds of rusty, wire metal shelves. The place was covered in bird shit. All the windows were open and rain had plunged through broken skylights.

  Together, for mutual reassurance, they inspected. It puzzled. Who could have used this place and for what? There was ample shelving.

  The stairs to what presumably would be the office space were intact. Again the birds had left gifts. The women poked and prodded, trying to avoid covering their clothes with the shit.

  Ana took some photos with her phone before Kjersti exclaimed: "Look at this!"

  Ana turned round to spy Kjersti disappearing through a doorway. Kjersti was doing what they had agreed not to do – become separated. Ana followed without enthusiasm. This place offered nothing.

  "What did you see?"

  "Not sure. Looks like glass jars with bugs in them."

  She held one up. Ana didn't like creepy-crawlies of any sort. She forced herself.
Her eyes opened wide.

  "Bactrocera oleae, I think. No, I'm sure. Those three bands at the tail are the giveaway. Enrique showed me."

  Kjersti's face revealed ignorance. She waited for Ana to provide more.

  "Bactrocera oleae is the fruit fly, the cause of Úbeda's pestilence."

  "But why keep fruit flies in a jar?"

  They started searching again. More jars came to light but nothing appeared to explain.

  Kjersti vented her frustration.

  "It's as if this was a laboratory."

  "Maybe it was."

  "For what?"

  "Breeding flies?"

  "But what's that to do with Úbeda or Jaén?"

  "Beats me."

  Further examination inside the shell of a building produced nothing else, not even an olive. Their disappointment was expressed by Kjersti's determined kick at the door as they exited. Both resented their failure.

  Resigned, Kjersti stepped towards the car. Ana opted to look around outside. She identified a couple of outhouses, more lean-tos than buildings of substance. The first was empty, apart from evidence of some animal. She hoped it wasn't around. She did not want to disturb anything like a home-defending wild boar.

  The second had some decrepit mechanical equipment inside. Rusted and encrusted with yet more bird droppings Ana could make out other similar devices. They possessed a familiarity she couldn't place. She yelled for Kjersti. When she didn't appear Ana stepped back outside to attract Kjersti's attention, beckoning her to come over.

  "Look in here. See if you recognise the machines."

  Kjersti stalked inside.

  "It's difficult to tell under all that crap. Can you help me drag one out?"

  Extricating one was unpleasant. Both wished for gloves. Finally they had it in the sun.

  "I thought so, Ana. Look at that name. Kanon. Recognise it? No? I do. I've used one. No, to be more accurate, I've been exposed to many."

  Ana's face displayed bewilderment. What was Kjersti rabbiting on about?

  "It's a tennis ball serving machine. See the hopper? That's where the balls go in. The white plastic chute? That's where they come out. You place a machine like this at one end of a tennis court. The balls rocket across the net and you try returning them. They're normally used by tennis pros, or aspiring ones at least."