Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit

by Charles Brett

  "I hadn't forgotten. I wondered if you were making the same connection. We think alike. What next?"

  "I envision two approaches. The first is to ask him openly about the red stripe, which he could deny being there. If so, what should we do? You could hardly accuse him of lying without cause."

  "True. So?"

  There was a knock on the door. Emilia slipped in, looking exceedingly pleased. "My apologies, Señoría. The laptop, Pedro, has a red stripe."

  "How d'you know?" asked Juez Garibey and Pedro together.

  Facing Pedro, she said, "While you and Caterina came here, Márquez and the lawyers left. I overheard them saying they were going to grab a coffee outside the building. Once they'd left, I had a look. By chance the offending stripe was visible without me having to touch anything, though I must say it's not that easy to see. It's almost like it's been partially scraped off."

  "That was me," said Caterina. "I didn't mention before that I scraped off all but four dashes from that machine. On my new one it's all but five dashes. I try to make it look as accidental as practical."

  Pedro said, "It seems we are halfway there, Señora Certaldo. The stripe's confirmed. How did you find out about this DPU?"

  "GPU," corrected Caterina without thinking. "Easy. Just ask him to tell you."

  "Forgive me, Señora Certaldo, I am an elderly Juez de Instrucción, not a computer whizz kid. I don't understand."

  "My apologies, Señoría. There are two possible routes, depending if he's done anything to the laptop. They are –"

  "If I ask you to do it for me, can you?"

  "Of course. Or Pedro could do it under my supervision?"

  "That's an excellent suggestion. Okay. So, Pedro, what happens if Señora Certaldo's suspicions are proved correct? Do I ask him why he's using stolen goods in my court when they represent a key part of the evidence you originally had?"

  "That's not a bad start, Señoría. But, no, I'd prefer you questioned him more about where he obtained the laptop. He is a legal officer."

  "Agreed. I think the initial questioning has to be spot on. If he has a convincing answer, we must accept it, albeit with the caveat that it must be confirmed. I foresee complications. Not acting now may lose us an opportunity. Tricky."

  Juez Garibey considered. Glancing at his watch, he announced that it was time to head back.

  A couple of minutes later he re-entered his Sala. Superficially all was as before, except now there was an uncertain nervousness in the atmosphere.

  Looking around, Juez Garibey saw that Márquez was far from at ease. Gómez appeared concerned about his client more than anything else. Pedro, Caterina and Emilia, for different reasons, were on edge.

  Juez Garibey had experienced this in similar situations before. Everyone was focused on him. He loved it. He knew he'd miss this after retiring. Being the centre of attention was pleasurable. He let the tension rise by not saying or doing anything.

  Eventually he turned to the table before him and said, "Señor Gómez. I would like to ask you a question that may not seem immediately relevant. You have a laptop in front of you. Could you tell me what sort of ..." – Juez Garibey checked the paper in front of him – "Graphics Processing Unit it has inside."

  Alfredo was stunned. This wasn't what he expected. "I – I h-haven't a clue! I'm not even sure how to find out or even what a graphics whatever-it-is does."

  "A Graphics Processor Unit, or GPU for short," responded Juez Garibey, pleased that he could show off, not that he had a clue either but he was not going to admit it. "It accelerates image processing."

  Before Alfredo could react or do something meaningful, Juez Garibey beckoned Pedro forwards. After formally identifying Pedro to Alfredo he invited Alfredo to bring his laptop to his table.

  Simultaneously Pedro signalled to Caterina to come forward. She turned the laptop over, pointing to the red dashes on the side that Emilia had described. Pedro and Juez Garibey took note.

  Caterina addressed Alfredo: "May I restart the system?"

  With a sickening feeling Alfredo assented as confidently as he could and despite having heard the Australian-accented Spanish.

  To Caterina's surprise the laptop rebooted to a different operating system to what she had bought. As it was adequately familiar, though not one she used often, she was able to bring up a screen listing the hardware configuration. Without saying more Caterina pointed to the CPU and GPU details she had written down earlier.

  Juez Garibey compared these to what he had before him. They matched, though he was no longer surprised. He invited Alfredo, Pedro and Caterina to return to their respective places.

  "Señor Gómez, may I ask how you came to possess this laptop?"

  "I bought it second-hand, Señoría. Why is this relevant and to what?"

  "Patience, Señor. Where did you buy it? You have a receipt?"

  "No. I found it recently in the rastro. It was so good-looking that I couldn't resist."

  This was the type of answer that Juez Garibey and Pedro feared. It would be hard to disprove.

  "Do you realise this is stolen property?"

  "Of course it isn't. I bought it legally."

  "So you can tell us from whom you bought it?"

  "Ah, no. As said, it was off a rastro stall. I remember that the stall was close to the entrance to the market near the La Latina Metro station. I did not ask further. It seemed like a bargain."

  "I see. I am advised that this model has two specific identifying features, both of which confirm that it was originally sold new only in Australia. I must inform you that it was stolen a few weeks ago. Are you aware of this?"

  "No. How could I be?"

  "A good question. Nevertheless, I must ask the CNP to take possession of it. Is there anything on it that might be regarded as client confidential?"

  "No. As a matter of policy my firm keeps all client-confidential material off laptops that leave our offices. This must be on encrypted memory sticks. If I remove this," which he did, "there will be no client-confidential material on the laptop."

  Alfredo metaphorically kicked himself. He should have said, "Yes, there was client information on it." If he had the laptop would be covered by lawyer/client privilege. Another mistake. It was too late now.

  "Excellent. I will take possession of it for as long as my investigation lasts. When complete it will be returned to you, unless we confirm it's stolen property required as evidence.

  "Let's adjourn for lunch and resume in a couple of hours to continue with Señora Márquez."

  Thursday: Isidoro

  Isidoro received a second call from his erstwhile colleague now working in the Audiencia Nacional.

  The voice at the other end of the phone was quietly filled with malevolence: "Did I not warn you to ensure that nothing happened to involve the Church?"

  "Yes, but you'll recall that I cannot give definitive assurances. I don't have that sort of power. Not even el Presidente del Gobierno has, as you well know. Why? Has something happened?"

  "What? You don't know? Are you people in Moncloa so utterly cut off from real-life matters?"

  "We try hard not to be. You cannot, however, expect us to monitor all matters in all courts. There'll always be dirt to fall on someone's unsuspecting shoulders."

  "Too true, and I do have a modicum of sympathy." The voice hardened again. "I told you explicitly that Garibey de Williams was digging anew in pastures where nobody should cut grass."

  "Forget the agricultural analogies. Help me. What's changed?"

  "Yesterday Garibey was questioning a lady called Marta Márquez about dubious transactions relating to three companies called ServiArquitectos, Constructores Equilibris and MMH. You will recognise them."

  Isidoro Silvestre mentally agreed without saying anything. He did not have the opportunity to respond, even had he wanted to, for the disembodied voice relentlessly continued.

  "What everyone presumed was a routine testimony turned sour when Garibey virtually accused a law
yer who you may have heard of, called Alfredo Gómez, of possessing a stolen laptop. That caused one wave of discomfort. After an adjournment Garibey pursued another line of questioning, apparently related to the laptop, but in no way that anyone present could work out. Next Garibey asked Márquez about a payment made by ServiArquitectos to El Cerámico."

  "There's nothing wrong there."

  But Isidoro's heart was sinking. He knew that el Presidente wanted to appoint Gómez as an ambassador. If Gómez was going to become involved in the courts there could be no such appointment until all was resolved. That at least was standard etiquette. Except that Isidoro had the unpleasant feeling el Presidente would insist on continuing, on the basis that Gómez was innocent until proven guilty. This promised to be another political mess poised to breed.

  As he was thinking through that set of implications, the voice on the phone continued: "It seems that a payment made to El Cerámico was passed onto Márquez, who paid it to the office of our now dead but rarely lamented Cardinal Archbishop of Toledo, His Eminence Cardinal Archbishop Adrian."

  "There's nothing wrong there either, is there?"

  To Isidoro's own ears he sounded weak and probably too defensive.

  "That's the question which remains unresolved. If my source is correct, Garibey has circumstantial evidence that the payment was returned to Señora Márquez the next day but paid out again the same day it arrived back in her account – only this time in cash. From Garibey's subsequent questioning it appears that Márquez was some sort of financial agent working on behalf of several Spanish organisations to make payments to facilitate favourable decisions or simply to buy off people. What I'm concerned about is not the generalities but the specifics relating to the Church. Garibey must be stopped before he harms the Church. This is what I tried telling you last time. You did nothing."

  Isidoro played for time. In truth he did not know how to reassure, especially if a Juez de Instrucción had the bit between his teeth. He recalled, with some barbed amusement, a past Juez de Instrucción who had over-reached himself by trying to arrange for no lesser person than el Generalísimo, Franco himself, to be dug up and prosecuted for crimes against humanity. While Isidoro had been entertained at the legal originality of the probe, it was seen as an outrage by the right. That particular Juez de Instrucción found himself appointed abroad – out of sight and mind. This, on the other hand, did not sound like the same thing. It was too mundane.

  When asked again what he was going to do, Isidoro could only say, "I really don't know. I need to discover more. But as before, please don't think that Moncloa can interfere with the due processes of law."

  "You must protect the Church. It matters more than any transient politician or even the monarchy. It's been around for much longer than either of those. The Church is a fundamental bulwark of our national fabric. You must find a way to act."

  "I'll do my best," said Isidoro, not believing a word – and pretty certain that his colleague knew he thought so.

  On the other hand, anything that involved the Church was dynamite. The current appointee, that grasping curmudgeon in Isidoro's opinion, was ever prepared to bring down hell, fire and damnation on anyone who raised the tiniest doubt about his darling institution. It did not matter whether it was child-molesting priests or incompetent business priests who had no place in a local savings society or simply crooked priests. None could be guilty in the eyes of the current incumbent Cardinal Archbishop. Isidoro groaned at the thought of what this might entail.

  "One other piece of information for you is Luis Zavala, also known as El Cerámico, has been cited for tomorrow. He's an old man now and not known for his religiosity. Rather the reverse. I hope he doesn't cause more damage. You have lots to unravel."

  Isidoro was relieved when the call finished. Now it was action time, if only to discover whether he was being sold a pup. He had the sensation of a man on a boat in weather turning rough who knew he was prone to being badly seasick.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Scene Sets

  Friday: Madrid

  Alfredo and Marta met for breakfast. Both looked strained. The past days in the Sala had been difficult. Of the two, Alfredo was more upbeat.

  "I don't think we need worry, Marta. I know that we've yet to escape the eye of Juez Garibey. For sure he's not releasing us yet. But think ... Every time he's tried to go down one particular avenue of enquiry it's petered out. It doesn't matter whether it was about the laptop or the ORS transactions. Each time we've successfully deflected his line of enquiry."

  "Alfredo, I have to ask: was that laptop stolen or did you really buy it at the rastro?"

  "Better not. What you don't know you can't say. But that doesn't matter now. If there was a way to associate it with the Australian, Garibey would've done so to sink me. His decision not to do so confirms to me that he can't. Yes, there's the so-called evidence about the special processor but that's circumstantial. It does not mean a similar machine couldn't make its way from Australia to be lost in Madrid by an Aussie tourist. Unlikely, yes. Definitive, no."

  "In addition, it's wholly reasonable that I bought the machine from the rastro with no receipt. Have you been to Madrid's rastro? No? Well, these days you can buy almost anything there, from horrifically expensive antiques – or more likely pseudo-antiques – through to ancient house contents, to technology of all eras. Quite simply, if Garibey's unable to prove that the laptop belonged to the Australian, he's stuck. Combine this with my acquiring it at the rastro and he hasn't a leg to stand on.

  "The last element is the operating system. Installing a new one obliterates anything that was there before. Not only has that eliminated any copy on the laptop of your smartphone, if it was even there, but it's effectively recreated the laptop."

  Alfredo understood that he was talking too much, even going round in circles. As much as he wanted to convince Marta he needed to convince himself.

  Marta was aware of this. She needed something to cling as much as he. Her own sense of the situation was Garibey had not made much progress. Yet he still might. There was a focus to his approach, and even about the man, which disturbed her. She couldn't put a finger on why. But he made her insides quiver in undesirable anticipation. Her sleep was now constantly interrupted by visions of what might happen next.

  "We have some other good news."

  "What's that?"

  "Puri's coming to Madrid for the weekend. I've booked us three rooms in a small boutique hotel in San Lorenzo de El Escorial. We can always add a fourth, if you like?"

  "I'm not sure. Salvador returned to Valencia yesterday morning though he did say he'd come back to provide support. The big issue is what to say to his wife. Constantly trying to knock sense into his sister can go only so far as an excuse even if it's also true that his sister's proving way more unreceptive to financial planning than he ever expected."

  "I think a weekend to walk in the mountains and around San Lorenzo would do us all good. Puri and I want to meet Salvador. I hope you and he will agree to come?"

  "To see Puri is always good. She calms us both ... Yes, I'll come, as long as I'm not a spare wheel with you two. I'll also ask Salvador."

  "Marta, may I ask you a related question?"

  "Of course."

  "Does this affair with Salvador have legs? I mean, would you like it to become more serious than what it has been so far?"

  "Leading questions from my lawyer?" She smiled lopsidedly, in a naïve way that reminded Alfredo of why he had made passes at her for so long. She really was a handsome lady, with lots going for her, especially when she smiled that particular smile. He was truly glad that he had introduced Marta and Puri. He wondered if Salvador could become a part of her future.

  "If you'd asked me two or three months ago I would've said that Salvador and I were just enjoying ourselves. But something happened. No, not directly to do with this questioning and no I'm not going to tell you what. Yet this Juez's questioning process has been relevant. It's e
nabled the two of us to share more than just screwing each other's brains out – for that was the previous reality. Sorry. I'm being crude but honest."

  She went on to describe how the change occurred imperceptibly. She discovered he was miserable, trapped in a marriage with a wife who had little interest in doing anything other than producing babies and raising them at his expense. She could feel his pain, that he felt reduced. It was only after this had emerged, in parallel with being able to discuss her own woes, that their deeper bonds started to form.

  "To return to your question, I don't know. Part of me would love to be with him long-term. Part of me would like to see the back of my own husband who's now an apathetic sport-on-TV addict with the social talents of a corner flag in his precious Mestalla stadium. Part of me fears change and what may or may not be. Part of me desperately wants almost any sort of change.

  "You think I'm confused? You're right. This Garibey business hasn't made anything any easier. At one point I'd thought that I might gradually be arriving at a new peace. Now that illusion looks like shattering."

  "Calm yourself, Marta. I can relate to much of what you say, if from a man's viewpoint. The initial months with Puri were enchanting and hell at the same time. I felt simultaneously guilty, oppressed and released. That's a strange combination. It was only when I stopped seeing Puri for a while ... Did she tell you?"

  Marta shook her head.

  "Clearly not. It was after six months without her that a new perspective arrived, fed by a particular bout of holy fervour from my wife, who insisted on going to Lourdes for a month. That window reopened the door to Puri. We've never looked back."

  "I'll call Salvador. You encourage me. At least we know we've nothing more with Garibey until next week at the earliest."

  Friday: Madrid

  Ana was beside herself with apprehension. She had been busy doing her normal ORS work. One consequence was that she had not progressed much on the list of names and references that Caterina had prepared for her at Emilia's command.