The Invisible Guardian

by Redondo, Dolores

  ‘Well that’s not how he feels about you, he doesn’t hate you, he doesn’t fear you, he does your job.’

  Amaia went to point to one of the cards and, in doing so, she pushed another one out of the deck. The card slipped out unprompted and turned over, showing its face.

  ‘That’s a different matter. You’ve opened a different door.’

  Amaia looked at the card, reluctant, recognising the presence of the wolf.

  ‘What the hell …?’

  ‘Ask a question,’ ordered Ros firmly.

  The sound of the door made them turn to look at James and Aunt Engrasi, who came in laden with various bags. They were chatting between fits of laughter which was suddenly cut short when Engrasi noticed the cards. She approached the table with a firm step, assessed what was happening and urged Ros on with a gesture.

  ‘Ask the question,’ Ros repeated.

  Amaia looked at the card remembering the formula. ‘What is it that I ought to know?’

  ‘Three.’

  Amaia gave them to her.

  ‘What you ought to know is that there’s another, let’s call it an element, in the game.’ She turned another card over. ‘Infinitely more dangerous.’ She turned the last one over. ‘And he’s your enemy, he’s coming for you and for …’ she stuttered, ‘for your family and he’s already arrived on the scene, and he will continue trying to attract your attention until you join his game.’

  ‘But what does he want from me, from my family?’

  ‘Give me one.’

  She turned the card over and the fleshless skeleton’s empty eye sockets looked up at them from the table.

  ‘Oh, Amaia, he wants your bones.’

  She remained silent for a few seconds. Then she gathered up the cards, wrapped them in the cloth and looked up.

  ‘Door closed, sister, there’s very scary stuff outside.’

  Amaia looked at her aunt, who had turned alarmingly pale.

  ‘Aunt Engrasi, perhaps you could …’

  ‘Yes, but not today. And not with that pack … I have to think about it,’ she said as she went into the kitchen.

  33

  The Hotel Baztán was about five kilometres along the motorway from Elizondo and looked like any other mountain hotel built with the aim of catering for school groups, hikers, family and friends. The façade formed a semicircle covered in balconies that looked over a small drive that acted as a car park where the yellow plastic chairs and tables looked incongruous. These were no doubt intended for summer evenings, but the hotel management made them available all year round, giving the place a colourful, tropical air more like a Mexican beachfront hotel than a mountain establishment. It was still early in spite of the fact that it had grown dark hours ago, and this was evident in the number of vehicles in the car park and locals crammed into the restaurant with its enormous windows.

  Amaia parked next to a mobile home with a French number plate and made for the entrance. Behind the reception desk a teenager with her coarse hair tied back in a ponytail was playing an online game.

  ‘Good evening, could you let some of your guests, Señor Raúl González and Señora Nadia Takchenko, know that I’m here?’

  ‘I’ll be right with you,’ replied the girl in that fastidious tone that teenagers often use. She paused the game and when she looked up she had transformed into a helpful receptionist.

  ‘Yes, how can I help you?’

  ‘I’m supposed to be meeting two of your guests, could you give me their room number. Raúl González and Nadia Takchenko.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the scientists from Huesca,’ said the girl, smiling.

  Amaia would have preferred them to be more discreet. The news that some experts were looking for bears in the valley could start rumours which, if unfortunately spread by the press, could complicate the progress of the investigation even further.

  ‘They’re in the restaurant. They asked me to send anyone who came to see them there.’

  Amaia went through the internal door that linked the reception with the dining room and went into the bar. A large group of students in hiking gear filled almost all the tables, laughing as they shared various portions of ham, patatas bravas and meatballs. She saw a woman waving to her from the back of the bar and it took her a few seconds to realise that it was Dr Takchenko. Smiling, she went over to the woman, whom she hadn’t recognised. Dr Takchenko had brushed out her long hair and was wearing caramel-coloured trousers and a beige blazer over a stylish shirt and even had high-heeled boots on. Amaia felt ridiculous when she realised that deep down she had expected to see her in the terrible orange overalls. The scientist smiled as she shook her hand.

  ‘I’m glad to see you, Inspector Salazar,’ she said in her awful accent. ‘Raúl is ordering at the bar; we decided to leave this evening, but we’re going to eat something first. I hope you’ll join us, da?’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid not, but we can chat for a while if you don’t mind.’

  Dr González came back carrying three beers, which he put on the table.

  ‘Inspector, I’d begun to think we’d have to send you the report by post.’

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t meet with you before, because the truth is I’m very interested in your findings, but, as Deputy Inspector Zabalza will have explained, I’ve been very busy.’

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t be conclusive. We haven’t found any dens or excrement, although we did find traces which might indicate the passage of a large plantigrade: places where lichen and bark have been scratched away and hairs from a male that match the ones you sent us.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘It may be that a bear has been in the area, the hairs could have been there for some time; in fact they look rather old, although this could also be due to the bear shedding its old coat. I already told you that it’s a bit early for a bear to have woken from hibernation. Of course there is recent data suggesting that certain females haven’t hibernated this year, probably due to global warming and the scarcity of food, which mean they weren’t ready to hibernate at the right time.’

  ‘And how do you know they belong to the same animal?’

  ‘The same way we know they come from a male, by carrying out an analysis.’

  ‘A DNA analysis?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And you already have the results?’

  ‘We’ve had them since yesterday.’

  ‘How is that possible? I still haven’t received the results of the samples I sent off when I sent you those bear hairs …’

  ‘It’s because we sent them to Huesca, to our own laboratory.’

  Amaia was astonished.

  ‘Are you telling me that your laboratory, in a centre for environmental studies, has sufficiently advanced technology to complete a DNA analysis within three days?’

  ‘In twenty-four hours if we’re in a rush. Dr Takchenko normally does them, but, since she’s here, a student who normally works with us did them.’

  ‘Let’s see, can you, for example, carry out a DNA analysis of a mineral, animal or human sample and establish whether or not it’s identical to another?’

  ‘Of course, that’s exactly what we do. Ours is a system of comparison and elimination; we don’t have the kind of database a forensic laboratory uses, but we can establish comparisons with absolute certainty. A hair from a male bear and another hair from a male bear have many alleles in common, even though they may not be from the same animal.’

  Amaia studied Dr Takchenko’s face in silence.

  ‘If I sent you samples of different brands of a substance like common flour, could we establish for certain whether any of them was the flour used to make a certain loaf of bread?’

  ‘Yes, probably, I’m sure that each manufacturer has a different method of milling and blending; furthermore, there may be combinations of grain from different sources. We could be more certain if we carried out a chromatographic analysis.’

  Amaia bit her lip pensively while a waiter placed a di
sh of calamares on the table along with some meatballs whose sauce was still bubbling in the little earthenware pot.

  ‘It’s a combination of techniques based on the principle of differential retention, whose objective is to separate the different components of a mixture, allowing the identification of the aforementioned components and the determination of their respective quantities,’ explained Dr González.

  ‘You’re leaving tonight, is that correct?’

  Dr Takchenko smiled.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, and I’d be delighted to help you. In case you’re at all unsure, back in my country I used to work in a forensic laboratory; if you give me the samples now I’ll have the results tomorrow.’

  Amaia’s head was whirling at high speed as she assessed the advance that having those results in twenty-four hours would represent. Of course, the results wouldn’t be of any value in court, but if they could discard some of the samples it would speed up the investigation; they’d have to wait for confirmation from the official laboratory if they obtained any positive results, but the investigation would be re-launched if it had a certain direction in which to head.

  She got up and dialled a number on her phone.

  ‘Jonan, come to the Hotel Baztán with a sample from each of the flours that you guys collected from the workshops and bring your bag with you. We’re going to Huesca.’

  She hung up and looked at the scientists and the food laid out on the table with a grin, deciding that she’d recovered her appetite.

  Twenty minutes later a smiling Jonan joined them at the table.

  ‘Well, you’d better tell us where we’re going,’ he sighed.

  ‘To the Bear Observatory of the Pyrenees, in the region of Sobrarbe, which was once an ancient kingdom in the north of Huesca. It’s probably best to put Aínsa into your Satnav, though.’

  ‘Aínsa, that rings a bell, it’s a medieval town, isn’t it? One of those that still has authentic period features and cobbled streets.’

  ‘Yes, Aínsa was very important in medieval times, mostly due to its strategic location, a privileged position between the Ordesa y Monte Perdido National Park, the Cañones y la Sierra de Guara Nature Reserve and the Posets-Maladeta Nature Reserve. Having control of Aínsa must have represented a serious advantage back then.’

  ‘And are there bears in that area?’

  ‘I’m afraid bears are much more complicated than most people would think.’

  ‘Complicated bears,’ said Amaia, smiling at Jonan, ‘we have to do a profile of them all the same, so brace yourself.’

  ‘Well, don’t think it’s so absurd; we can only partially discern the mentality of a bear, that is if we can assume he has one in the first place. From the moment we admit that a bear has a character, a way of being that differs from one individual to the next, we can start to understand the difficulty observing an individual entails.

  ‘Dr Takchenko and I,’ he said, looking at his companion, ‘travel to Central Europe, the Carpathians, Hungary, lost populations between the Balkans and the Urals and, of course, throughout the Pyrenees. Aínsa isn’t exactly famous for its bear sightings, but it does have a great network of wildlife observation centres, in particular for birds, and it provided us with a perfect place for the laboratory and allows the company that funds it to make an income from the endangered species centres, guided tours and donations from the many tourists and visitors who come to Aínsa throughout the year.’

  ‘So you don’t just study bears?’

  ‘No, not at all, we do work involving a great variety and number of species, reflecting the variety of habitats in this region. Given the good conservation status of the majority of the habitats, these valleys are one of the last refuges for a fair number of species. There are lots of diurnal birds of prey, golden eagles, red kites, peregrine falcons, goshawks, sparrow hawks, and nocturnal ones like long eared owls, little owls and barn owls … it’s common to see large carrion birds, such as bearded vultures and buzzards, and a multitude of smaller birds. But Dr Takchenko and I mainly concentrate on large mammals: wild boar, deer, foxes … although smaller mammals, such as bats, shrews, rabbits, squirrels, marmots and dormice, are more abundant … We’re busy all year round, although most of our sleepless nights are connected with the migration of large bears all around Europe, and we respond to any call-outs, like yours, where the presence of a bear is suggested.’

  ‘And what conclusion have you reached? Is it possible that there’s a bear in the area? Or do you agree with the forest rangers that it’s a basajaun?’ asked Jonan.

  Dr González looked at him perplexed, but Dr Takchenko smiled.

  ‘I know what this, this basajauno, is.’

  ‘Basajaun,’ corrected Jonan.

  ‘Yes,’ she exclaimed, turning to her companion, ‘it’s the same as the Home Grandizo, Bigfoot, the Giant, and the Sasquatch. They say that there’s a giant, a Home Grandizo, in a place called the Val d’Onsera. They say he walks about accompanied by an enormous bear. And in my country there’s also a legend about a huge, strong, not very evolved man who lives in the forests to protect nature’s equilibrium. Is that the same as a basajaun?’

  ‘Practically the same, except certain magical qualities are attributed to the basajaun, he’s a mystical mythological creature.’

  ‘I thought that was just the name the press had given the criminal … because he kills in the forest,’ said Dr González.

  ‘Oh, that’s not right at all,’ exclaimed Dr Takchenko. ‘A basajaun doesn’t kill, his role is to be a caretaker and preserve purity.’

  Amaia stared at her as she remembered her sister’s words. The guardian of purity.

  ‘And the forest rangers think the killer you’re looking for is a basajaun?’ asked Dr González, surprised.

  ‘Well, it would appear that they believe in the existence of the basajaun,’ explained Jonan, ‘and they suggest that he could be the creature we’ve mistaken for a bear, but of course he wouldn’t have anything to do with the murders, and his presence would only be due to the forces of nature summoning him to curb the predator’s activity and restore the harmony of the forest once more.’

  ‘It’s a lovely story,’ admitted Dr González.

  ‘But it’s only a story,’ said Amaia, standing up and putting an end to the conversation.

  She went out into the car park, wrapping herself up in her anorak and deciding to travel in Jonan’s car and leave hers there. She took out her mobile to call James and let him know she was going to Huesca. There was no lighting in the car park, but it was partially lit by the white light from the restaurant windows and warmer light from the windows of the rustic dining room on the other side. While she was waiting for James to answer, she noticed the two diners who were sitting closest to the window. Flora, dressed in a tight-fitting black blouse was leaning forward with a surprisingly coquettish and studied expression. Her curiosity piqued, Amaia walked amongst the cars, searching for the angle that would afford her a better view of the scene. James finally answered and she briefly explained the idea she’d had and that she would call him when she was setting off to come back. Just as she was saying goodbye to him, her sister moved away from the window and leant forward to hold her companion’s hand. Inspector Montes smiled as he said something to Flora that made her older sister laugh, throwing her head back in a clearly seductive manner and looking outside. Shocked, Amaia turned quickly and tried to hide, dropping her mobile, which disappeared under a car, before deciding that there was no way that Flora could have seen her standing in that ill-lit car park from inside.

  She recovered her phone while Jonan and the scientists were leaving the restaurant. She let Jonan drive without paying attention to what he was saying and sighed when they started to leave the hotel behind them, relieved and rather confused at how she had reacted.

  34

  Engrasi opened the packaging containing a new Tarot of Marseille deck. She took the cards out of their box and began a contact ritual,
praying as she slowly shuffled them. She knew she was facing something different, although not something new, an old enemy she had already glimpsed once before a long time ago, the day on which Amaia had dealt the cards when she was only a little girl. And today, while Ros was trying to help her sister, that old threat had returned to poke its dirty, drooling nose into her little girl’s life like an unpleasant memory.

  Engrasi had felt close to Amaia ever since she was a child. Just like Amaia, she had loathed that place where she’d happened to be born, denying how important the ancient customs, traditions and history were, and had done everything she could to get away from there until she had succeeded. She had studied, pushing herself to the maximum to obtain the grants that would let her go further and further from home, first to Madrid and finally to Paris. She studied psychology at the Sorbonne. A new world opened before her in a revolutionary Paris filled with ideas and dreams of freedom, making her feel like she’d finally joined the party and more alienated than ever from the dark valley where the sky was made of lead and the river thundered in the middle of the night. There was love in the Paris air and, together with the Seine flowing in majestic silence, it seduced her once and for all and confirmed what she already knew: she would never return to Elizondo.

  She met Jean Martin during the final year of her studies. An esteemed Belgian psychologist, he was a visiting professor at the university and twenty-five years her senior. They courted in secret during that academic year and married in a small parish church on the outskirts of Paris as soon as she graduated. The wedding was attended by Jean’s three sisters with their husbands and children and a hundred friends. Not a single one of Engrasi’s relatives were there. She told her in-laws that her family was small and bogged down in work and that her parents were too old to travel. She told Jean the truth.

  She didn’t want to see them, she didn’t want to speak to them or to have to ask after the neighbours and old acquaintances, she didn’t want the influence of her home town to reach her there, because she sensed that they would bring the energy of the water and the mountain with them, that tugging somewhere deep inside you felt by anyone who was born in Elizondo. Jean had smiled while he listened to her, as if she were a little girl recounting a bad dream, and he had consoled her accordingly, gently reprimanding her.