Blood Med

by Jason Webster

  ‘They’ve spent so much keeping him alive in that private hospital I bet they’re not letting him die. Poor bastard’s probably begging them to pull the plug.’

  Cámara shrugged.

  ‘The tensions flare up for a bit then calm down again. Perhaps for a long time. Perhaps the demonstrators will be back tomorrow and bring the whole edifice crashing down. It’s hard to say. You might as well try to predict the football results.’

  They fell silent again. A busker was setting up on the pavement opposite – a smart, elderly-looking man. Cámara had seen him before; he crooned to a backing track, always a tad out of tune.

  ‘Looks like he used to work in a bank – from the way he dresses,’ Torres said.

  ‘Perhaps he did.’

  ‘At least they’re letting us take out money from cash machines again. No more corralito. Couldn’t pay for this otherwise.’

  ‘They probably found a few billion spare somewhere. Hidden in a shoebox.’

  ‘Did you see the Prince on TV?’ Torres asked.

  ‘No. What did he say?’

  ‘He was all right. Called for calm, predictable stuff. But he came across well. I don’t know, perhaps when the time finally comes he’ll be able to pull it off. For a moment I thought things were really going to fall apart. Army sent in, that kind of thing.’

  ‘They still may,’ Cámara said. ‘But you’re right. I know what you mean. The sharpness in the air seems to have dulled a bit.’

  ‘Still, nice to see that civil war has finally broken out in Emilia’s party,’ Torres grinned.

  ‘She’ll slip through. She always does. There’s no dirt on her.’

  ‘Not directly. But it’s a big scandal. And you broke it. There’s no way she’ll be re-elected next time. Her right-hand man is up for murder, links with neo-Nazi groups, kidnapping, corruption. She must be finished.’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to bet. Seriously. She’s been in power for over twenty years. And even if she does go, the next one will be just like her.’

  ‘They’re all the same,’ Torres said, putting on a hackneyed voice.

  ‘All right, you bastard. I’m just being cynical.’

  ‘It’s all bollocks anyway. I’m going to take a leaf out of your book and stop following the news so much. Things never really change.’

  ‘Now you’re doing it.’

  ‘All right,’ Torres sniggered. ‘But did you hear the really important news?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Lozano has proposed to Castro.’

  Cámara smiled.

  ‘Really? And?’

  ‘We don’t know. She said she’ll tell him by tomorrow.’

  ‘I knew they were shagging.’

  ‘Well, congratulations, Sherlock. It was a bit bloody obvious.’

  Cámara drank some more beer and sighed.

  ‘They found the papers,’ he said. ‘The ones Oliva passed to Amy – photocopies of the ones his wife showed me.’

  ‘Where were they? I looked everywhere for them.’

  ‘In the gym.’

  ‘Couldn’t be. My team turned the place upside down.’

  ‘They were in a secret compartment in the floor. Underneath where they stacked the weights.’

  Torres sniffed.

  ‘So you needed half a dozen musclemen to get at them,’ he said.

  ‘That must have been the idea. There were some other papers there as well – an operational manual, how to carry out assassinations and that kind of thing. And you know what? It recommended that the best way to get inside people’s homes without causing suspicion was to pretend to be a postman.’

  ‘The cartero trick.’

  ‘And of course they had to distract Pascual – he might have seen something. So I reckon they came up with the broken pipe for him to fix just to keep him out of the way.’

  ‘Makes sense.’

  Cámara looked into space.

  ‘Still wish I hadn’t stopped you?’ Torres said. ‘You were about to kill that bastard. I saw it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cámara. ‘I think I probably was.’

  ‘You don’t need Javier Flores on your conscience. Besides, he’s better off alive. He knows everything. He’ll have to come clean eventually. Much more than the slush fund. Trust me, if you’d killed him there’s a whole heap of stuff that would never have come out, would have gone to the grave with him.’

  Cámara nodded.

  ‘You’re right, you’re right.’

  ‘You know I am,’ said Torres. ‘It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. I bet you’re not even regretting it now. You’re not a murderer, chief. No matter what the bastard did. You don’t avenge Hilario through stuff like that.’

  ‘Si piensas en venganza haz dos tumbas que una será tuya,’ Cámara said. If you’re thinking about revenge, dig two graves, for one of them shall be yours.

  ‘There, you see. Bet Hilario taught you that himself.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cámara. ‘He did.’

  ‘Let Flores suffer. He’s banged up in jail, taken a bullet in the hip, hated by his former friends – did you hear they formally revoked his party membership? You’ve got to laugh. This is agony for him. One of the most powerful men in the city now having to shit in a bucket in the corner of a tiny dirty cell. And it’s going to go on for years. This is much better, believe me.’

  Cámara chewed the corner of his mouth in silence.

  Torres coughed.

  ‘It’s a while since we had a proper lunch together,’ he said. ‘You know, like the old days, a couple of hours over a paella and a bottle or two.’

  ‘On police time.’

  ‘Of course. Makes the rice taste better.’

  ‘You reckon Laura won’t mind?’

  ‘She won’t have to find out. Pardo never bothered. It was only with Maldo in charge that things got tense.’

  ‘Missing him already?’

  ‘Fuck off. Did you know they stripped him of everything – all his medals, honours, the works.’

  ‘I just wish they could sack him. Properly, I mean. Throw him out of the police altogether.’

  ‘He’s too high up. They’ll keep him out of the way. Send him off to Extremadura, or somewhere.’

  ‘I tell you one thing, though.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘With him gone from Homicidios they won’t have to look for someone else to get rid of.’

  Torres screwed up his nose.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I heard something,’ Torres said. ‘They’re still trying to cut costs. Looks like someone’s going to get the chop.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Cámara grabbed his helmet and got up to leave.

  ‘Hey,’ said Torres. ‘Where are you going?’

  Twenty minutes later Cámara was with Laura Martín. The new head of the murder squad was keeping her old office for the time being.

  ‘I’ll move out eventually,’ she said. ‘They’ll probably force me to. As long as they don’t put me where Maldonado was. I hate it in there.’

  ‘Feels dirty?’ Cámara asked.

  ‘Yes. Something like that. Just don’t want to be associated with him. Now,’ she added, pointing to the seat, ‘I’m glad you’re better. You needed a decent amount of time to rest and recover after everything that happened. And I’m assuming you want to go through things.’

  Cámara shrugged.

  ‘By the way, no hard feelings, I hope. I know you were an obvious candidate—’

  ‘I didn’t want the job,’ Cámara interrupted her. ‘And I’m very glad they’ve made you head of Homicidios. Really. I can’t think of anyone better.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘That means a lot to me.’

  ‘Although I’m a little bit surprised,’ he said. ‘I saw you as something of a crusader in the sexual violence squad. It must be hard, leaving that.’

  She raised her eyebrows
and looked down at the desk, spreading her fingers out over the surface in a gesture of openness, almost self-exposure.

  ‘I’m ambitious,’ she said. ‘A dirty word for some, I know, but I couldn’t refuse a possibility to run one of the most important murder squads in the country. And for a woman to get the job is a statement of sorts. Besides, the overlap between the two squads is huge. Too often sexual crime results in death, so in some ways I’m carrying on as before.’

  Cámara nodded.

  ‘Now,’ she said, pulling her hands together and linking them over her stomach, ‘about the latest. I have to say I’m very happy that Judge Alonso has taken over the case. I hadn’t come across him before, but he seems like one of those liberal types. Just the person to see things through to the end. Political cases like this kick up an enormous amount of dirt, as you know. And I want to keep the police out of it as much as possible. There’s been too much mixing in political circles recently for my liking.’

  ‘Good,’ said Cámara. ‘I’m completely with you.’

  ‘Although I see that some of our number are still intent on it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I sent someone along to Julio’s funeral,’ said Laura. ‘Just to keep an eye on things.’

  ‘A spy?’

  ‘Yes. A spy.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Guess.’

  ‘Albelda?’

  ‘Got it in one.’

  ‘We can trust him. And?’

  ‘They gave him quasi-military honours, like a hero. Almost the entire LOP was there. Amazingly, Soler got a temporary pass from custody to be present, although Alonso insisted he couldn’t make a speech. But there were Nazi salutes, Francoist flags, everything. And a disturbing number of mourners were members of our own riot squad. Seems they’ve infiltrated us. They haven’t gone away.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cámara said. ‘I had a feeling. Has Soler given us anything?’

  ‘He’s staying tight-lipped. Seems to think it’s his best defence. But test results are coming in. The gun that was used to kill Amy Donahue was Julio’s. As were the hairs we found on her – the DNA tests gave a clear result. So we can almost say for certain that he murdered her.’

  ‘Who was with him? There was one other. The Dane, Hansen, said he saw two men buzzing the door claiming to be postmen.’

  ‘It wasn’t José Antonio, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because the DNA found under Diego Oliva’s fingernails matches his. He was busy throwing Oliva out the window when Amy was being shot.’

  ‘Two teams,’ said Cámara. ‘Two for Amy. And the witness Hernández mentioned three men at Oliva’s. Five in total.’

  ‘One to take out Amy, led by Julio. The other with José Antonio at Oliva’s flat.’

  ‘And Gonzalo – the other guy in the metro?’

  ‘He’s in custody, along with José Antonio. The wound is healing well. I think, as soon as he’s strong enough, he’ll start talking. He’s up for kidnapping and attempted murder already – what he did to Alicia – so a plea bargain might help reduce his final sentence if he comes clean about what happened.’

  ‘Well, if he gives us names . . .’

  ‘He’ll give us the names of the other two. They’re almost certainly LOP members. Then we’ll just pick them up and DNA testing will place them at whichever scene they were at. Either Amy’s flat or Oliva’s.’

  It was important for the conclusion of the case. But both knew that the LOP men were mere executioners: their orders had come from Soler and ultimately from Flores.

  ‘Any word about Ruiz Costa?’

  Laura held up her hands.

  ‘OK, I admit it. I was wrong about him. And you never thought he did it.’

  ‘I don’t mean that,’ said Cámara.

  ‘Why was that? How did you know he was innocent?’

  ‘I didn’t. But there was something about his socks.’

  ‘His socks?’

  ‘They were pink – the same colour as Amy’s. I couldn’t imagine a man who wore the same colour socks as his wife could then murder her so cruelly.’

  Laura snorted.

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t tell me that at the time,’ she said.

  ‘So what’s happened to him?’

  Laura shrugged.

  ‘As far as we know he’s gone to live with his aunt. Has barely stepped back in the flat since we released him. I was taking a statement from Pascual yesterday and he mentioned something.’

  ‘Poor bastard.’

  ‘They buried her here. I thought they might fly her body back to the States, but her parents wanted it this way. Something about Amy loving Spain so much.’

  Cámara nodded in silence.

  ‘How’s Alicia getting on?’ asked Laura, changing the subject.

  ‘As well as we could hope,’ said Cámara. ‘I can’t thank you enough for sorting things out at the clinic.’

  ‘It’s the least I can do. They know me from past cases. They’ve dealt with some horrendous stuff, but they’re specialists. It’s the best place she could have gone.’

  ‘The sores are healing well. But I’m afraid the scars may be there for longer.’

  Laura shook her head.

  ‘Yes. I’m very sorry.’

  There was an awkward silence for a moment.

  ‘Do you want me to arrange some time off, so you can help her recover?’

  ‘I heard something,’ Cámara said. ‘Something about a redundancy needed in Homicidios.’

  Laura sighed.

  ‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘I hate it and there’s nothing I can do about it. My hand is being forced. I thought with Maldonado gone . . . But it seems they want a decision by next week.’

  ‘Have you thought about who . . .?’

  ‘You’re safe, obviously. Don’t worry. It’s the hardest decision to make. We have a very good team, but, yes, there is a name in my mind. He’s already an inspector but he’s still young. He’ll get a good payout and can start something new. I hope.’

  ‘Torres,’ Cámara said. ‘You mean Torres.’

  Laura nodded.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry. I know you’re friends.’

  ‘Fire me,’ said Cámara. ‘Not Torres. He’s got a kid, and his wife left him just a year ago. Really, you can’t do this to him. If someone’s got to go, fire me. I insist.’

  Laura smiled.

  ‘It’s very noble of you. But—’

  ‘What do you need? I’m begging you. Fire me instead.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Laura said. ‘It’s complicated. You’re a chief inspector. It gets harder the higher up someone is.’

  ‘Bollocks. You can fire me now. Just do it. Say the word and I’ll go.’

  He stood up.

  ‘Cámara. Really, I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’d need a reason. I can’t just fire you like that. Besides, you’re the best detective in the squad.’

  She was getting angry.

  ‘It’s my call, my decision. I have to live with it. I appreciate you trying to help, but the answer is no. Absolutely not . . . What are you doing?’

  Cámara was undoing his belt, opening the buttons and pushing first his trousers and then his underpants down to his knees. Then his lifted his shirt and very briefly exposed himself.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Laura said, horrified.

  ‘I’m giving you a good reason to sack me,’ Cámara said, pulling his trousers back up. ‘Gross misconduct.’

  Laura slumped in her chair.

  ‘Now get the paperwork started and sack me. I’ve got somewhere to go.’

  FORTY-THREE

  THE CLINIC WAS a short way out of the city, a single-storey white building at the edge of the sea surrounded by mature umbrella pines: a refuge for women which, for the time being at least, had survived the spending cuts.

  Alicia was sitting in the shade on a wooden bench, reading. The swelling in her face had died down a couple of days before, but dark
rings still circled her eyes. She had not recovered her full strength.

  ‘I knew you’d come,’ she said, looking up. ‘Busy day?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  He leaned down and placed his face next to hers.

  ‘Have I told you today that I love you?’ he whispered.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘You brute.’

  She kissed him warmly, breathing in his scent.

  She patted the bench beside her, beckoning him to join her.

  ‘There was a letter from Hilario’s solicitor this morning,’ he said.

  He sat down and placed his arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Remember those references to the “recent work” that he’d done?’ he said. ‘It was among the papers we found.’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘It was his will. He’d sorted everything out, every detail.’

  A gentle breeze brushed their skin.

  ‘It’s as if . . .’

  ‘Yes. As if he knew. Even now he’s dead he still has the power to surprise us.’

  ‘Was there anything more? Any surprises in the will itself?’

  He smiled.

  ‘What does that grin mean?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s not much,’ said Cámara. ‘Just the flat in Albacete and what was left in his bank account. Some savings.’

  ‘What will you do with it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s all gone to you.’

  She coughed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, to you.’ He laughed.

  ‘Oh, my God.’

  She pulled away to look at him.

  ‘It can’t be. Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. And I know why he did it.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Alicia. ‘Can he do this? It’s yours. It should go to you.’

  ‘He loved you very much,’ Cámara said. ‘As a daughter, I suppose, as a daughter-in-law, of sorts. You see, by doing that he’s bringing you into the family, he’s making you a Cámara.’

  ‘Turning me into a Cámara?’

  ‘And he’s making sure I always stay with you.’

  ‘I still don’t get it.’

  He pulled her towards him. She rested her head on his shoulder and he felt her hair against his cheek.

  ‘Anarchists don’t really believe in marriage,’ he said. ‘So this is the next best thing. By giving it all to you he’s joining us in holy, anarchist, capitalist matrimony.’