‘According to you, serial killers don’t change their modus operandi because it’s important to them...’
‘And according to you, this isn’t a serial killer...’
‘Well, if he killed this woman, he would be. Technically we’d have a third victim.’
‘Could you both stop arguing and go up already? If the killer is up there, he’s going to end up hearing you,’ Sebas interrupted them. ‘I’ll keep watch over the garage camera.’
Carlos and Natalia nodded and got into the lift. They remained in a tense silence whilst they went up three floors. When the doors opened, they were met with an elegant corridor. The walls were painted grey, and against them the doors stood out in a shiny black. Every few metres, a small lamp gave off a weak light.
‘So now where do we go?’ asked Natalia.
‘It’s 305. Through here.’
They approached the room. The sound of their footsteps was completely dampened by a thick fitted carpet in a maroon colour. When they arrived at the door, they leant forwards and rested their heads on the surface of it.
‘Do you hear anything?’ asked Natalia.
‘Not a thing. At least there are no screams.’ Carlos took a couple of steps away from the door. ‘Let’s go in.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Natalia, shocked. ‘Charge into the door?’
‘Of course. What do you want? For me to knock and pleasantly ask him whether he’s committing a crime?’
‘But we don’t have a warrant,’ protested Natalia.
‘One isn’t necessary if you have clear indications that someone could be committing a crime in a place.’
Natalia hesitated a few seconds and then nodded. Carlos continued stepping backwards, towards the opposite wall, and then took a run up to it, to throw himself against the door.
*****
She tried to open her eyes, but she was feeling very confused and dizzy. She felt something pressing against her back, and then, all of a sudden, the world below her disappeared. It seemed as though she was floating, as though she had left the mattress far below. She fought against the fog that was overwhelming her mind and forced herself to overcome the weight that was preventing her from lifting her eyelids. After several attempts, she managed to open her eyes a little.
She was not flying. She was in the arms of a man she did not recognise. It was not Sergio, it was not Azkar... Who was this stranger transporting her with infinite care? She managed to turn her head, and saw that the man was heading towards the bedroom door. After fighting against the gravity that was imposing an enormous weight on all of her limbs, she managed to raise one of her arms a little.
‘Let me go... Who are you?’
‘Shhh... Don’t worry. Sleep,’ the man told her in the soothing tone one uses to talk to babies. ‘It’s all right. You won’t feel any pain. I promise you.’
Estefanía did not believe him, but she could not manage to find any further strength within herself to carry on fighting. Her eyes closed once more, and a thick fog filled her thoughts.
*****
The door gave way to Carlos’s momentum. In spite of it looking like a solid and resistant door, it shot inside the room with such force that it crashed into the wall and ricocheted back. Carlos put out his left hand in order to prevent it from hitting him in the face, whilst with his right hand he took his gun out of its holster.
‘Ertzaintza!’ he cried out, aiming it towards the bed. ‘Nobody move.’
Natalia came in after him and poked her head around. In spite of Carlos’s words, the room had descended into chaos. A woman was shrieking in terror, her eyes very wide open and riveted on the pistol, whilst trying to cover herself with the sheet. Alongside her, a man had jumped out of the bed, completely naked, and was waving his hands in front of him, as if trying to prevent a bullet from being able to reach him.
‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’ he cried hysterically.
‘If we all behave ourselves, I’m not going to shoot anybody. Please, stop shouting and keep your hands where I can see them.’
The woman had stopped screaming, and was now crying inconsolably, covering her face with the sheet. Natalia walked up to her slowly, so as not to frighten her, and placed a hand on her back.
‘It’s all right. You’re safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.’
‘Safe? Safe from what?’ she asked, looking at her, terrified, before turning towards the man. ‘Is this your wife’s doing? I told you she’d end up catching us...’
‘This doesn’t have anything to do with my wife,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘These people are saying they’re from the police.’
‘She’ll have accused us of something, that damn bitch. I told you it wouldn’t wash with her that you had to put in so many extra hours with your secretary.’
‘Your secretary?’ asked Carlos. ‘So you two didn’t meet through a website then?’
The couple looked at him, as if he had just spoken in Aramaic, before shaking their heads simultaneously. Carlos put away his gun and sat down on the bed, causing the woman to move away towards the edge, as if afraid that he were going to infect her with something.
‘Would you mind telling me why you made the reservation in her name?’
‘My wife monitors all movements on my card. How was I going to explain a weekly stay in a hotel to her?’
‘And why did you come in through the car park on foot?’
‘We only work a few short metres away from here. I left first and came here on foot, and she stayed half an hour longer checking some documents in order to hide it...’ The man appeared to come to his senses. ‘That’s enough now of giving you so many explanations. Would you mind telling me what we’re being accused of?’
Carlos shot him a timid smile, and stood up from the bed in order to go and situate himself closer to the wall. Natalia moved away from the woman, too, and went over to him.
‘And now what do we do?’ Natalia whispered to him, hoping that they could not hear them.
‘I don’t know. Seems to me we’ve made a right mess of it.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
The constant banging caused by the potholes in the road brought her out of her sleep. For a few seconds she did not know where she was, or how she had got there. She remained still in the darkness, paying attention to every little stimulus that could indicate to her what was happening.
Little by little, the memories began forging their way in her mind. She remembered the hotel, the champagne, the dizziness, and falling asleep. And after that, the face of a man, blurry as if blended by the fog. That man had picked her up in his arms and carried her away.
The fear caused her senses to clear up a little. She was closed up in a tight dark space... After a few seconds, she felt the panic overwhelm her. Was she in a coffin? Had they buried her alive? No, the place was moving and rattling. Besides, she could hear the sound of a car engine. She was in a boot. Who was the man that had put her inside it? Where was he taking her? Was he going to hurt her?
In spite of the distress that had taken over her, she tried to calm herself down and think. Her life could well depend on that. Nobody drugged a woman and locked her up in a boot if they did not expect to do something awful to her. She felt her eyes fill with tears. She had been such an idiot arranging to meet with a stranger... How could she have ever thought of doing such a stupid thing?
She had to leave the blame and the tears for after. Whether or not there would be an “after” depended on her ability to come round and think with a cool head. She remained still for a few minutes, trying to get any sign that would provide her with an advantage over her captor.
The car they were travelling in was advancing along very slowly, and was shaking continuously. They were not on a well-tarmacked road. They had to be in the mountains, or on some woodland route. She did not know how long they had been advancing along a road like this. It was very likely that it had been the first few potholes that had woken her up.
It was highly probable that this road would not be very long. The man would soon arrive at his destination and come to fetch her.
As if he had read her thoughts, the car pulled up. Estefanía listened as the driver’s side door opened and closed. She then heard some heavy footsteps approaching the back end of the car. The man must be big and strong. She stand have little chance in a confrontation against him. Her only chance was to pretend to still be unconscious and wait for an opportunity to arise that would allow her to escape.
The footsteps were still drawing closer. She heard the splashing sound they caused as they went through a puddle, and the crunching of the dry leaves as they crumbled beneath his shoes. Then she heard the beeping of a key fob in the distance, and the door to the boot began to open. Before closing her eyes, she was able to make out the silhouette of the trees surrounding them, outlined against a starry sky, and the dark figure of a man leaning over her.
She felt as he ran an arm behind her back, and another beneath her legs, and lifted her into the air. She forced herself not to move and to allow her limbs to hang limp. The most difficult thing to control was her breathing. She felt as though she could not get any air; that she needed to breath more quickly, but she could not do so. She had to maintain the deep and relaxed breathing of a sleeping person.
Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she was certain he would know it; that he was going along with the pantomime of pretending that she was fooling him, whilst inwardly laughing at her. Nevertheless, the man did not say anything. He continued walking along the path with her in his arms. It seemed as though it was becoming increasingly more difficult for him to carry her, because his breathing was becoming ever more laboured. After barely a couple of minutes of him walking, the man crouched down and deposited her carefully on the damp grass.
Estefanía heard his footsteps moving away from her, and she dared to open her eyes. The man had his back to her, alongside a precipice, looking down as he smoked a cigarette. She thought for a second about getting up, running towards him, and pushing him, but straightaway she realised that that was not the solution. He would hear her approaching, turn around, and catch her. No, she needed to take advantage of the opportunity to get away from him. She looked around, searching for an escape route, and saw a little road descending down the slope.
She sat up gradually, without making any sound, although she was certain that the booming of her heart could be heard throughout the entire forest. Upon getting up, she realised that she was still very dizzy. Her limbs were feeling weak and dormant, heavier and softer than usual, as if they were coated with cotton that was filled with ants. She felt as her vision clouded over and her eyes filled with tears. Who was she trying to kid? She would not be able to escape under such conditions. She was going to die in this forest, and she was the only one responsible for being so naïve, so stupid...
She shook her head and managed to get the mist covering her eyes to dissipate. She was not going to die: she was not going to give up. Putting her hands on the ground to support herself, she managed to stand up. She began to advance little by little, with all of her senses on high alert, trying to avoid any stone, leaf or stick that could make noise. The man still had his back to her, gazing at the scenery whilst he enjoyed his cigarette. Estefanía wondered how much longer he had to go on that cigarette, and prayed for it to be a long time.
She managed to get to the start of the path, and began to go down. It was very narrow and steep and covered in loose gravel. Estefanía realised that she was not going to be able to go down there in that darkness, and much less so in silence; therefore, as soon as she had gone down a few metres, she decided to forget about stealth and start running in order to put as many metres possible between that man and herself. The first few metres were horrible. More than running down, her descent was a mixture between walking, slipping, and stumbling, grasping at the nearby bushes so as not to fall right off the edge. But the worst thing was that, as soon as the gravel began slip beneath her feet, the man at the top of the precipice ceased being engrossed in the landscape, to focus all of his attention on her.
‘Stop!’ he called out to her from above. ‘You’re going to hurt yourself!’
Estefanía was surprised at those words. Why would he be worried about her hurting herself? Was it that he was not planning on hurting her? In any case, she made the decision not to stop. There was no reasonable explanation for that man having brought her to that remote location.
‘I told you to stop, you damn bitch!’
Those words gave more energy to her flight. In just a few seconds, she had already finished going down the path and was now beginning to run along flatter terrain. She looked all around, trying to spy any building, any light, any indication that would let her know that there was some human being nearby who could help her. She saw nothing. She was at the bottom of a hollow, surrounded by bare and eroded mountains, cloven harshly with steep angles. It seemed like a quarry. As she continued running, she prayed for it not to be abandoned.
A few hundred metres away she spied some enormous dark shapes. Estefanía ran in that direction, thinking that they could be buildings and that perhaps she would be able to find some security guard. Once she was closer, she realised her mistake. They were lorries, cranes, diggers... They were resting on the flattened area like sleeping giants. Upon passing alongside them, she realised that the paintwork was peeling and rusty. The majority of them were missing their wheels, doors, windows, or engine parts... It looked as if they had been attacked by scavenger animals that had not given up on their corpses whilst there was still something usable. This whole place must have been abandoned for years. She would not find anybody who could help her.
She ran between the lorries, changing direction, encircling a few of them... Perhaps that might serve to mislead her chaser. She had not wanted to look backwards at any point, but she knew that he was close. She heard his speedy footsteps on the gravel. They were rhythmical footsteps, and vigorous. This man seemed accustomed to running. He would not be giving up on her because of exhaustion.
She, on the other hand, was feeling her strength fading. She was still feeling somewhat dizzy and, furthermore, the clothing she had chosen for the date was not the most suitable for a race. Her high-heeled boots made her fear that she was about to break an ankle at any moment, and her tight-fitting yellow dress must have been standing out like a beacon in the night.
A little further ahead, she came across new dark figures standing out in the darkness. They were abandoned buildings. The greyish walls were darkened by the damp. There were no longer any doors or windows left. Those dark hollows looked like enormous eyes that were watching her desperation in silence. Remains of rusted and warped machinery could be seen everywhere. It was a tortured and devastated landscape that offered her not a shred of hope. Even so, she chose one of the smallest buildings and hid herself inside it. She could not continue running for much longer. Her breathing was a suffocated wheeze that was not supplying her with enough oxygen. Her whole body was hurting and begging her for a few seconds of rest. She had to stop. Her salvation depended on him not having seen her go inside, and him not finding her.
She positioned herself alongside one of the windows, with her back resting against the wall, paying attention to any sound. For a couple of minutes, she did not hear anything but the wind that howled throughout the ruins, and the night song of a few birds. By the time she was beginning to feel hope, she heard a new sound. They were soft footsteps, stealthy... And they were heading for where she was.
*****
As Aguirre paced, striding across the limited space of his office, the four of them waited resolutely with their arms behind them, and not daring to look up from the floor. Gus was feeling as though they had put him into a cage with a starving tiger. He knew that it was selfish, but the only thing he could think about was him choosing another victim for breakfast.
‘You all know why I’ve called you in, right?’
The four of them looked at each other for a few seconds in the hope that it would be someone else who would answer. Carlos decided to avert his gaze towards the ceiling, as if inspecting it for mould. Sebas took advantage of that moment to take out a handkerchief from his pocket and to blow his nose, in an attempt to hide himself behind it. When Aguirre cleared his throat in order to point out to them that he was not going to withstand this for much longer, Natalia took a step forward and began to speak:
‘We’re very sorry about what happened, sir...’
‘Of course you are. I know that you are very repentant, and that you won’t do anything so stupid ever again in your lives. If it weren’t for my thinking that, you would all have files started on you.’ Aguirre went back to striding about. ‘To whom does it occur to go into a room by knocking down a door and terrorising the people who are in there? Is it you’ve seen too many Dirty Harry films?’
‘It wasn’t exactly like that,’ Carlos stepped in. ‘You know what these things are like. We had reasons to believe that a crime was possibly being committed in that room. What would you want us to have done?’
‘I don’t know... Let me try and recall what the by-laws say... Ask for a warrant, perhaps?’ said Aguirre, sarcastically.
‘There was no time for that. Aguirre, please, we thought he was going to drug and kill that woman. Wouldn’t you have done the same?’
‘No: of course not. I am certain that I would have come up with something better than breaking the door of a private property and terrorising innocent citizens... I am certain that I would have come up with a whole heap of better ideas. Have you thought about what could befall us if that hotel decides to report us? Or if those people sue us for police brutality?’
‘Of course, sir,’ replied Natalia, with her best obedient little girl smile. ‘Fortunately, neither of them is going to sue us.’
‘And how do you know that?’
The White Corpses Page 11