Tears came down her nose as Galíndez watched the film through a storm of strange lights and needles of pain. Something was very wrong. This was far worse than any of her previous episodes. A thin string of drool hung from her lips. And still she watched.
Papá closed the car door and the camera panned to the little girl, focusing on her face, her hand waving with the indefatigable persistence of a child, determined to continue until her father drove around the corner and out of sight. The rectangle of light from the projector filled with the child’s face as Papá started the engine and pulled away from the kerb, capturing her expression of disbelief as the explosion lifted the car into the air, flinging it along the road in a disintegrating fireball, recording the girl’s transition from happiness through startled incomprehension to sudden, horrified understanding. The tears. The silent scream. The camera remained fixed on her face as she sank to her knees, looking up as her mother ran from the house, depicted by the camera as a skirt and legs, dark shoes, stumbling past the child in an attempt to save her husband from the inferno now cremating him.
And then the camera moved in slowly, amplifying the child’s face, moving inexorably to her eyes, enlarging them into huge, impossibly dark shapes that filled the picture until, with a sudden dry flutter, the spool of film ran out.
Galíndez slid from the chair and lay on the floor, shivering, unable to move. Her mind was on fire and her body trembled with strange spasms. She tried to pull herself forward, feeling the rough carpet against her elbows. A faint sound outside on the stairs. Help me. But the words were in her head not her mouth. She looked up, realising the door was ajar. Perhaps she could attract attention, get help. She reached for the door and saw her hand fall limply to the carpet. It was the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness. By the time someone knocked, Galíndez was beyond hearing it.
The door opened. Two men in black ski masks. A fat man holding a pistol, the other short and skinny, carrying a Taser. Both stared at the woman sprawled face down on the floor, the Barcelona shirt rucked up around her legs.
‘What the fuck?’ An East European accent. ‘Is she dead?’
The short man knelt by Galíndez’s side and felt for a pulse. ‘She’s alive. Maybe she’s high or drunk. Whatever. She’s coming with us.’
It took less than a minute to secure her. The fat man opened a small haversack, waiting as his companion pulled Galíndez’s hands behind her back, securing her wrists with plastic flexi cuffs. Her hands now immobilised, he crossed her ankles and bound them with duct tape. Finally, they turned her on her side as the thin man unrolled a black plastic body bag. His companion cut a piece of duct tape and taped it across her eyes. A moment later, he placed a second piece of tape firmly over her mouth. Together, they manhandled her into the black plastic shroud, leaving only her face still showing.
She was easy to carry. One took her shoulders, the other her feet. They went down the stairs with hardly a sound except for the rustling of the black plastic as they negotiated the bend in the stairs. The man in front stumbled.
‘Careful,’ the other one said, ‘they won’t pay if she’s damaged.’
They hurried out across the deserted road to a van parked by the far kerb. Two more men waited by the rear doors, watching as Galíndez was carried to the back of the vehicle. One of the men was tall, his biceps covered in obscene tattoos, the piercings in his face twinkling in the half-light. Standing next to him was an old man, tall and dapper in a suit and tie.
As the East Europeans pushed Galíndez into the van, a cat sidled across the road from the Mushroom Bar and brushed up against the old man’s legs. The cat screeched as the old man lashed out, kicking it halfway across the road.
‘Fucking hell,’ the big man said. ‘That’s a lousy thing to do.’
‘Just do your job, Sancho,’ the old man grunted. ‘Or I’ll kick you.’
‘We get paid now?’ the larger of the two East Europeans asked.
‘You do.’ Sancho nodded. ‘She was no trouble then? That’s a first.’
‘Fast asleep. I think she’s pissed.’
Sancho unzipped the black plastic bag and pinched Galíndez’s cheek. There was no response. ‘Is that a Barcelona shirt she’s wearing?’ he asked, amused.
A nod. ‘Says Messi on the back.’
The old man came closer for a better look. Sancho noticed his odour again: a blend of Cuban cigars and brandy. A dry crackling in his throat that might have been a laugh.
‘She’s been wanting to meet me for some time.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s her lucky day.’
‘You’re not kidding. It’s going to be a real surprise when she wakes up and finds you standing over her.’ Sancho pulled the zip on the body bag higher, leaving only her nose exposed.
‘She thinks she’s tough,’ the old man muttered. ‘A few hours with me and she’ll eat shit if I tell her to.’
Sancho took a drag on his cigarette. ‘Just like the good old days, eh?’ He looked round at the others. ‘Anyone want a look at her tits before we set off?’ The two East Europeans nodded vigorously as he reached for the zip of the body bag.
‘No,’ the old man said. ‘It’s always better to undress them just before they’re tortured. It adds to the stress.’ He glowered at Sancho. ‘I’m used to dealing with professionals.’
‘Oh, you’re the expert all right.’ Sancho flicked his cigarette into the gutter. ‘Let’s get going then, Señor Guzmán.’
The two men got into the cab, and the East Europeans scrambled into the back alongside Galíndez. Sancho started the engine and the van moved off down the cobbled road, heading for Calle de la Colegiata. From the small bar below Galíndez’s flat, laughter and loud voices echoed in the night air. A sudden blast of synthesised drumbeats.
The karaoke was beginning.
~
We hope you enjoyed this book.
The Dead, the next gripping book in the Vengeance of Memory series will be released in spring 2017
For more information, click one of the links below:
About Mark Oldfield
About the Vengeance of Memory series
An invitation from the publisher
About The Exile
1954, SAN SEBASTIAN: Comandante Guzmán, head of the notorious Brigada Especial, is out of favour and in exile. Franco’s one-time favourite secret policeman has been posted to the Basque country, a desolate backwater – in his eyes – of simmering nationalism, unlikely alliances and ancient vendettas.
Guzmán was last here during the war, at the head of a platoon of bloodthirsty Moorish irregulars. Personally, he’d rather forget all that – but up in the hills, he’ll find that he hasn’t been forgotten at all.
The road back to Madrid, to power and influence, is long and treacherous – especially for a man who is about to find himself cursed, betrayed and on his knees with an executioner’s pistol pushed against his skull.
2010, MADRID: Guardia Civil Forensic Investigator Ana María Galindez has been sent to the Basque country where, sealed in the cellar of a ruined building are three skeletons, each bound to a chair, each savagely hacked to death. In the debris surrounding them, a scimitar, stamped with a name: Capitán Leopoldo Guzmán.
Guzmán is the key that will unlock Spain’s darkest secrets, the name that will haunt her as she is asked to lead a politically charged investigation into Los Niños Robados – the thousands of children stolen at birth during the dictatorship – the name that will wake forces that have lain dormant for decades.
Guzmán’s name, she’ll discover, is a death sentence.
Reviews
‘Polished and impressive. Fans of Kate Mosse will find The Sentinel propulsive.’
Guardian
‘Superbly told, and with a fine villain at its heart, this is a remarkable first thriller that bodes exceptionally well for Oldfield’s future.’
Daily Mail
‘An ambitious and strikingly written novel, composed on an epic scale.’
&
nbsp; The Good Book Guide
‘Remarkably accomplished... a credible and atmospheric picture of what life was like under the dictator.’
Literary Review
‘A powerful, hypnotic debut novel filled with the horror of conflict, treachery, and intrigue, it’s a must read.’
New York Journal of Books
About Mark Oldfield
MARK OLDFIELD was born in Sheffield, and now lives in Kent. He holds a PhD in criminology.
Follow him on Twitter: @CentinelaUK
About the Vengeance of Memory series
1 – The Sentinel
Comandante Leopoldo Guzmán. Infamous head of Franco’s secret police. A man who disappeared from history in 1953, but his secrets live on.
1953, Madrid: Amid the snow-bound streets of an unprecedented winter, the head of Franco’s secret police discovers that the web of lies he has spun around his past is beginning to unravel.
2009, Las Peñas: Forensic investigator Ana María Galindez unearths a mass grave in a disused mine. Her investigation will disturb forces that have lain dormant for decades.
In this journey into the dark heart of Spain, Guzmán is the link between past and present in a country still scarred by civil war, still riven by fear and hatred, and still plagued by secrets that refuse to die...
The Sentinel is available here.
2 – The Exile
1954, SAN SEBASTIAN: Comandante Guzmán, head of the notorious Brigada Especial, is out of favour and in exile. Franco’s one-time favourite secret policeman has been posted to the Basque country, a desolate backwater – in his eyes – of simmering nationalism, unlikely alliances and ancient vendettas.
Guzmán was last here during the war, at the head of a platoon of bloodthirsty Moorish irregulars. Personally, he’d rather forget all that – but up in the hills, he’ll find that he hasn’t been forgotten at all.
The road back to Madrid, to power and influence, is long and treacherous – especially for a man who is about to find himself cursed, betrayed and on his knees with an executioner’s pistol pushed against his skull.
2010, MADRID: Guardia Civil Forensic Investigator Ana María Galindez has been sent to the Basque country where, sealed in the cellar of a ruined building are three skeletons, each bound to a chair, each savagely hacked to death. In the debris surrounding them, a scimitar, stamped with a name: Capitán Leopoldo Guzmán.
Guzmán is the key that will unlock Spain’s darkest secrets, the name that will haunt her as she is asked to lead a politically charged investigation into Los Niños Robados – the thousands of children stolen at birth during the dictatorship – the name that will wake forces that have lain dormant for decades.
Guzmán’s name, she’ll discover, is a death sentence.
A Letter from the Publisher
We hope you enjoyed this book. We are an independent publisher dedicated to discovering brilliant books, new authors and great storytelling. Please join us at www.headofzeus.com and become part of our community of book-lovers.
We will keep you up to date with our latest books, author blogs, special previews, tempting offers, chances to win signed editions and much more.
If you have any questions, feedback or just want to say hi, please drop us a line on [email protected]
@HoZ_Books
HeadofZeusBooks
The story starts here.
First published in the UK in 2015 by Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Mark Oldfield, 2015
The moral right of Mark Oldfield to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (HB) 9781781851517
ISBN (XTPB) 9781781851524
ISBN (E) 9781781851548
Jacket Design and image © Ghost
Head of Zeus Ltd
Clerkenwell House
45-47 Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.headofzeus.com
Contents
Cover
Welcome Page
Display Options Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
VILLARREAL, 8 MARCH 1937
Chapter 1
SAN SEBASTIÁN, THURSDAY, 30 SEPTEMBER 1954
SAN SEBASTIÁN, OCTOBER 1954, HOTEL ALMEJA
VILLARREAL, 8 MARCH 1937
Chapter 2
MADRID, JULY 2010, CALLE MONTERA
MADRID 2010, CUARTEL GENERAL DE LA GUARDIA CIVIL
MADRID 2010, GLORIETA DE PIRÁMIDES
VILLARREAL, 8 MARCH 1937
Chapter 3
SAN SEBASTIÁN, OCTOBER 1954, RESIDENCIA DEL GOBERNADOR MILITAR
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, HOTEL ALMEJA
VILLARREAL, 9 MARCH 1937
Chapter 4
LEGUTIO, JULY 2010, PENSIÓN ARALAR
LEGUTIO 2010, PENSIÓN ARALAR
LEGUTIO 2010, BAR ANTZOKIA
N-240, GAMARRA MENOR, 2010
VILLARREAL, 10 MARCH 1937
Chapter 5
SAN SEBASTIÁN, OCTOBER 1954, HOTEL ALMEJA
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, CAFÉ SOL, PLAZA 18 DE JULIO
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, ESTACIÓN DEL NORTE, PASEO DE FRANCIA
OROITZ 1954
OROITZ 1954, CUARTEL DE LA GUARDIA CIVIL
VILLARREAL, 7.30 P.M., 11 MARCH 1937
Chapter 6
MADRID, JULY 2010, GUARDIA CIVIL LABORATORIO FORENSE NO. 5
MADRID 2010, HOSPITAL CLÍNICO SAN CARLOS
VILLARREAL, 7.45 P.M., 11 MARCH 1937
Chapter 7
OROITZ, OCTOBER 1954, CUARTEL DE LA GUARDIA CIVIL
OROITZ 1954, LAUBURU FARM
OROITZ 1954, TORRES PABELLÓN DE CAZA
OROITZ 1954, CUARTEL DE LA GUARDIA CIVIL
Chapter 8
MADRID, JULY 2010, BAR SALTAMONTES, CALLE DEL ALCALDE SÁINZ DE BARANDA
MADRID 2010, CALLE DEL ALCALDE SÁINZ DE BARANDA
MADRID 2010, MINISTERIO DEL INTERIOR, CALLE AMADOR DE LOS RÍOS
Chapter 9
SAN SEBASTIÁN, OCTOBER 1954, CLINICA ALEMÁN, CALLE 31 DE AGOSTO
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, HOTEL ALMEJA
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, HOTEL INGLÉS
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, CALLE DE FERMÍN CALBETÓN
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, BAR ACUARIO
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, HOTEL MARÍA CRISTINA
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, CALLE DE FERMÍN CALBETÓN
Chapter 10
MADRID 2010, UNIVERSIDAD COMPLUTENSE, CALLE DEL PROFESOR ARANGUREN
Chapter 11
SAN SEBASTIÁN, OCTOBER 1954, BANCO DE BILBAO
OROITZ 1954, CUARTEL DE LA GUARDIA CIVIL
Chapter 12
COLMENAR VIEJO, JULY 2010, FUENTES RESIDENCE
Chapter 13
SAN SEBASTIÁN, OCTOBER 1954, LA ESCALERA DE MARI
OROITZ 1954, CUEVA DE MARI
OROITZ 1954, TABERNA LA CUEVA
OROITZ 1954, LAUBURU FARM
OROITZ 1954, TABERNA LA CUEVA
OROITZ 1954, ABADÍA DEL INMACULADO CORAZÓN DE MARÍA
Chapter 14
MADRID, JULY 2010, CALLE DE MIRA EL RÍO BAJA
Chapter 15
OROITZ, OCTOBER 1954, ABADÍA DEL INMACULADO CORAZÓN DE MARÍA
OROITZ 1954, MENDIKO RIDGE
OROITZ 1954, ABADÍA DEL INMACULADO CORAZÓN DE MARÍA
OROITZ 1954, PENSIÓN ARALAR
OROITZ 1
954, PENSION ARALAR
Chapter 16
MADRID, JULY 2010, GUARDIA CIVIL CENTRO DE INVESTIGACIÓN, UNIVERSIDAD COMPLUTENSE
MADRID 2010, SALA DE REUNIONES, CENTRO SOCIAL, CALLE COLOMER
Chapter 17
FRANCE, OCTOBER 1954, ST JEAN DE PIED DE PORT
FRANCE 1954, ST JEAN PIED DE PORT
FRONTERA INTERNACIONAL, ESPAÑA–FRANCIA 1954
Chapter 18
MADRID, JULY 2010, CALLE DE LOS CUCHILLEROS
MADRID 2010, GUARDIA CIVIL, LABORATORIO FORENSE NO 5
MADRID 2010, CALLE AZCOITIA, CARABANCHEL
MADRID 2010, CALLE DE LOS CUCHILLEROS
Chapter 19
SAN SEBASTIÁN, OCTOBER 1954, CALLE DE FERMÍN CALBETÓN
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, CALLE DE LA PESCADERÍA
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, RESTAURANTE LA LUNA NEGRA
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, RESIDENCIA DEL GOBERNADOR MILITAR
Chapter 20
MADRID JULY 2010, GUARDIA CIVIL CENTRO DE INVESTIGACIÓN, UNIVERSIDAD COMPLUTENSE
MADRID 2010, AVENIDA DE ASTRONOMÍA, SAN FERNANDO DE HENARES
Chapter 21
SAN SEBASTIÁN, OCTOBER 1954, BANCO DE BILBAO
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, PENSIÓN EUROPA
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, RESIDENCIA DEL GOBERNADOR MILITAR
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, AVENIDA DE LA LIBERTAD
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, RESIDENCIA DEL GOBERNADOR MILITAR
GETARIA 1954
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, CALLE DE FERMÍN CALBETÓN
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, CALLE SAN JUAN
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, CATEDRAL DEL BUEN PASTOR
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, HOTEL INGLÉS
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, PUERTO
SAN SEBASTIÁN 1954, HOTEL INGLÉS
Chapter 22
MADRID, JULY 2010, GUARDIA CIVIL CENTRO DE INVESTIGACIÓN, UNIVERSIDAD COMPLUTENSE
MADRID 2010, PALACIO DE CRISTAL, PARQUE DEL BUEN RETIRO
Chapter 23
The Exile Page 50