Benefit of the Doubt

by Les Cowan

  “No!” David shouted and lunged at him. The gun went off as their bodies collided. Shots rang out as they crashed against a flight of steps. David’s head made contact with a sharp edge and the lights went out. The last thing he saw was the Spanish flag shivering as a line of gunfire passed through it.

  Chapter 28

  The City of God

  The medieval walls and battlements of the castle of Calatrava were no strangers to the sounds of combat – automatic gunfire, however, was something new. The comings and goings of horses, donkeys, mules and, more recently, cars and vans were also normal, but the rhythmic whirr of a helicopter landing in the car park seemed completely out of place. It could hardly have added to the surreal quality of the day if it had been a spaceship instead. The start of the madness was when Timo, the heritage officer in charge of restoration, got a call from his boss the day before. He was told to expect contact from a senior officer in the Policía National drugs squad and was to give them his full cooperation. He was not to discuss the matter with anyone else. Sure enough the call came through. Calatrava was to be the site for apprehending a notorious drugs gang. He shouldn’t worry about why or how. Early next morning a SWAT team would arrive. They would take charge of the site and he would brief them on the layout of the buildings and duties of staff so they could pose as custodians and construction workers. The remainder of his staff were to take the day off. Who or what a SWAT team was he was only vaguely aware of from dubbed versions of Steven Seagal movies.

  Next morning when he turned up early for work they were already there. Heavy cases of arms and ammunition were manhandled up the ramp and stowed in the makeshift huts and sheds the restoration team used for artefacts and tools. They already had work clothes and yellow reflective safety vests on with body armour underneath and now spent several hours combing over the entire citadel and making plans. Just after ten, when a convoy of black 4x4 vehicles made their way up the hill, the site was exactly as any outsider would expect except for an absence of admin and clerical staff and a greater number of construction staff. When Raúl and his henchmen came bursting in, machine guns locked and loaded, the staff reacted exactly as they would have expected – with shock, horror, and stunned compliance. A woman the gang brought with them was hustled out of sight. Timo didn’t see her again until it was all over. Normal visitors were thereafter turned away and told to come back tomorrow.

  Early in the afternoon, a silver Jaguar could be seen creeping painfully up the access track and into the car park. Its solitary occupant made his way slowly, but with an air of determination, up the path to the double doors guarding the entrance. Instead of being turned away like the others, however, he was escorted in. Site staff – at least those the gang were aware of – were kept in the reception hut under guard while the visitor was marched at gunpoint through the courtyard to an upper platform. Time passed. Suddenly, based on some prearranged signal Timo wasn’t even aware of, all hell broke loose. One of the team grabbed him and he was bundled without ceremony behind a set of filing cabinets and told not to move until someone came to get him. He was happy to oblige. Gunfire seemed to be coming from all directions at once – the sharp crack of pistol rounds, the clatter of machine gun fire and the piercing whine of high-velocity sniper shots. The windows of the shed were shot out almost immediately. Then, within minutes, it was over except for one persistent exchange coming from the chapel. Soon that too was stilled and he was fetched from his shelter.

  Outside was a scene of carnage. Bodies seemed to be everywhere, some groaning and some lying still. The SWAT team leader, the one they called Kris, was already speaking on a VHF handset and reporting on the day’s events. He had an air of quiet satisfaction. Finally, he came over to Timo, thanked him politely for his cooperation, and explained that a helicopter would be arriving to evacuate the wounded. Ambulances would remove the dead as soon as could be arranged. Then, incongruously, he asked if some coffee could be made. And did they have a bottle of brandy anywhere? While Timo hunted around for these, Kris led three individuals into the hut and sat them down. The woman Timo had seen earlier seemed in a bad way, her face and hair splattered with blood, her eyes red, and her face streaked. She was walking on her own though and didn’t seem to have been hit. She was holding onto the man who had come in the Jaguar. There was a bandage round his head, his shirt was soaked with blood, and his arm was in a sling. He walked with support on both sides, his face pale. The third was a young blond-haired man that Timo had noticed earlier as part of the gang. He was also pale-faced and shaking, and although uninjured seemed bewildered, unsure of where he was or why. A female member of the team came in as Timo was putting coffee things on a makeshift trestle table and helped the woman get cleaned up. Kris added a large measure of brandy to each of the coffees and passed them round.

  As they sat in the office, Timo could see loaded stretchers being carried through the courtyard and out of the castle gates. Vehicles came and went. The injured man managed only a few sips before the sound of a helicopter was heard in the distance rapidly growing clearer, then, finally, almost deafeningly loud as it set down outside. The three civilians were ushered out and Timo didn’t see them again. He helped himself to what was left of the coffee and brandy and ripped open a box of souvenir biscuits. For the next hour or so SWAT officers continued crawling over the entire site, measuring, taking photographs, picking up cartridges and other bits and pieces and dropping them into sealable bags. Then, as suddenly as they had arrived, they were gone. Kris shook Timo by the hand, thanked him again for his cooperation, and told him he would find out about it on the evening news. That was it. No explanation, no clarification, no identification. Over and done with.

  At home that night he and girlfriend Marta watched mesmerized as the newsreader told the nation about the capture of the notorious Raúl Álvarez and his gang in a shoot-out at the Calatrava la Nueva Castle in La Mancha province. Six gang members had been shot dead, two seriously wounded, and five given themselves up. Police casualties were minor. Raúl himself was now in hospital under armed guard. The programme cut to a reporter outside the new Toledo General Hospital. How ironic, it was pointed out, that one of the new hospital’s first patients should be a man who had so seriously damaged the health of so many Spanish young people. As soon as he was fit he would be standing trial and, as another gang was taken out of circulation, perhaps the overall health of the nation would benefit. Apparently the operation had also involved inside help from a younger member of the gang who, it was suggested, might be given a sympathetic hearing by prosecutors for his part in bringing Álvarez to justice and, it was believed, saving the lives of two hostages who were also receiving treatment. Drugs enforcement agencies particularly wanted to thank the Department of Historical Monuments for their cooperation. Timo and his girlfriend sat open mouthed as the report concluded and the anchorman went on to introduce a new high-profile Madrid fashion show. It was as if the day’s events had happened to someone else. Timo went to make two cups of coffee and added a generous measure of brandy to one.

  The operation to remove a bullet from David Hidalgo’s right shoulder took place that afternoon. The bone was shattered but the bullet had missed all major veins and arteries, and with appropriate osteosyntesis a full recovery was expected. The fact that it was a round from one of the SWAT team’s weapons that had caused the damage was a source of some embarrassment to the police team. By the next day he was sleeping peacefully. Gillian was merely kept in overnight for treatment for shock and observation. So the next morning it was a sizeable party who turned up to see the invalid. Alison was now fully recovered. She and Jen were getting acquainted again and had spent the morning on the shopping trip Jen should have had with Juan. Alison felt like a new mum all over again having got a new daughter back. Rodriguez was in meetings all morning but free early in the afternoon. So Juan, Alison, Jen, Gillian, and Captain Rodriguez all found themselves in the waiting room. Everyone had something t
o thank David for – Alison and Jen for a new beginning, Juan just for coming back alive, Rodriguez for helping to neutralize a dangerous criminal, and Gillian for coming to get her. She was already thinking of him as her white knight in a silver Jag. For David, however, it was all too exhausting. He felt weak, but worse than the physical effects he didn’t feel at all that he deserved any thanks and appreciation. He had put Gillian at risk, attempted to deceive Rodriguez, abandoned Juan, ignored Jen and Alison and, worst of all, caved in to Raúl’s intimidation. He wasn’t sure what else he could have done other than standing up to the bully then turning belly up as soon as the danger was directed at his loved one. It didn’t feel good. He was able to smile weakly, squeeze Gillian’s hand, graciously accept Rodriguez’ apologies, and wish Alison and Jen all the best. But behind it all was Raúl’s voice, “…a man with so little integrity. It’s too big a risk. Carlos. Kill them both.”

  As the group left, Juan saw the look on his face and knew it wasn’t a patched up gunshot wound in his shoulder that was causing the pain.

  “¿Quieres hablar amigo?” he asked.

  David nodded, waited till everyone else had cleared the room, then told him everything that had happened. He talked about the doubts, the anxiety, the resignation, the handing of things over to God, the fragile but timely peace, then the cold fear and finally the shame.

  “You know, Señor David,” Juan said after they had sat in silence for some minutes, “when I was young I sometimes used to go to confession in San Blas. I used to feel so dirty I had to tell someone about it and get some relief, but I hated going because the old priest seemed to love to punish us. He would listen to your confession then tell you what a wicked person you were and how God would never accept you unless you changed your ways. But there was never any power to change. God was far away sitting on his throne. He didn’t care. All he wanted to do was judge and punish, judge and punish. It seemed that no one could live up to what he wanted so no one could be accepted. And the old priest was here to tell us how angry God was. Then at Warehouse 66 we spoke about a forgiving God. So which one are you thinking about today? The forgiving one or the angry one?”

  David lay looking up at the ceiling and said nothing. Juan continued. “You came to Spain despite what happened to Rocío to try to find another lost one. She is now safe and happy. Raúl is in custody. Most of the gang are dead or in jail. You’ve got Gillian back again and your arm will be better soon. Maybe you won’t be able to use the frying pan for a while but that’s a good thing. Look, Señor David, I’ve been telling you for months, El Señor is at work. Remember in the garden he said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone.’ So he gave you Gillian. She is finding out about faith for herself now too. Tell me how this could have been better? You don’t think you’ve covered yourself with glory? Does God care what you think? Does Gillian care what you think? Do I care what you think?” By now they were both smiling. “So. God has been at work. This is how he has allowed it to happen. You should be grateful. Get well, go home to Edinburgh, and ask Gillian to marry you. That is my advice!”

  David didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end it was a mixture of both. He had a smile on his face but his body was shaking. Juan squeezed his hand, carefully kissed him on both cheeks, then winked and turned to go. Gillian, who had been waiting outside, came back in. Neither said a word. With complete disregard for hospital decorum she stretched out on the bed beside him and held him in her arms.

  As soon as David could be discharged from hospital he joined the group back at the Parador Hotel. Despite the millions likely to be recovered as the proceeds of crime, now that the operation was over there wasn’t an unlimited budget and they would have to leave as soon as David could travel. Thankfully that still gave them a few more days. Rodriguez, however, had to disappear back to Madrid to tidy up the paperwork. A lot more work would still be needed before the case could come to court. That was mostly a matter for the lawyers but police evidence would be needed, which meant paperwork. It was, as much as these things can be, a happy task, so he was in a good mood when he joined the group for dinner in the dining room on his last night. The perdices con chocolate were back on the menu and he ordered with relish. As a last gesture he personally provided a couple of bottles of excellent wine. David noticed it wasn’t a Valdepeñas but he had had enough of that part of the country for the time being.

  “So Señor David, we must both go back home to take care of business, no?”

  “I guess so. Maybe a bit of a break first though. And you. How long before Raúl is in court? Will we all need to come back to Spain to testify?”

  “If it does come to court, yes of course, but the latest news is that it may not.”

  “Why would that be?” asked Juan. “He’s not going to wriggle out of it like Escobar, is he?”

  “No, of course not. It is the medical reports that suggest some doubt.”

  “Is he going to die?” Jen asked quietly. It didn’t take much to guess what was on her mind.

  “No, he seems stable. But the bullet Carlos fired went into his brain. It is likely he will have severe brain damage. He may never be fit to stand trial.”

  “That seems so unfair!” Alison said, putting down her knife and fork. “After everything he’s put us all through. Why should he get away with it? He should get what he deserves.”

  “Ah well, Señora, which of us would be happy with what we really deserve? In any case, if Raúl cannot stand trial it will be because he has already received a life sentence. Instead of flashy cars it’ll be a wheelchair. Instead of the best restaurants – like Hacienda perhaps? – he’ll be on baby food now. Personally I would prefer the prison. At least you still have yourself. What he used to be may be no more than a memory – if that.”

  “So he could be in the same ward as people who have suffered brain damage from overdoses or contaminated drugs,” Gillian said thoughtfully. “All due to him.”

  The captain inclined his head.

  “As you say Señora. And in any case he will have to answer to a higher court than merely the Spanish Crown. Anyway, we must not allow Señor Álvarez to spoil our dinner. What is it you call it in English – the last supper?”

  “One thing I don’t understand though,” said Gillian, pausing between bites of a succulent roast lamb. “How did you manage to turn Carlos against the gang – against his own uncle in fact – so much that he was prepared to shoot him to save us?”

  “This is something I would love to take the credit for,” Rodriguez smiled, “but alas it is not possible. We have the young lady to thank.” He raised his glass to Jen who blushed, sank down in her seat, and pulled the neck of her sweater over her chin but was obviously pleased with the attention.

  “Jen and Carlos have, how should we put it, plans for the future.”

  “What?” Alison almost choked on a mouthful of chicken. Jen looked embarrassed and clearly didn’t want to upset her mum all over again. Rodriguez took up the tale.

  “You remember Jen told us it was Carlos who loaned her a phone to send the messages? They got to know each other. Once Jen was brought back and Gillian taken…” again the captain gestured with his glass “… Carlos decided he had to do something. Unless he acted he knew he would never see Jen again and he could be implicated in a kidnapping, perhaps a murder. We know he was wanting out by this time.”

  “So what happened?” Gillian persisted.

  “He contacted me.”

  “You mean he just phoned you up?”

  “More or less. He phoned my office, said his name was Carlos, that he was part of Raúl’s group, and wanted to talk to me. Naturally they don’t give out mobile numbers carelessly. In this case they made the right decision. He called me up early in the morning. He offered some information and I chose to trust him. Time was short so I told him we would have men at Calatrava by the time Raúl got there. He said Raúl was training h
im to take over. He was expecting to be involved in the meeting with David and the Señora. He said he would protect them. I conveyed this to Kris and his team. Plans were made accordingly. Carlos was clear that he would do whatever was necessary. And so it proved.”

  “Wasn’t that leaving things a bit to chance?” Gillian sounded dubious. “What if he had been discovered? Or wasn’t there when Raúl met with David? Or was there and couldn’t do anything?”

  “But he was and he did.”

  “And almost got shot for it in spite of everything.”

  Rodriguez inclined his head.

  “That was unfortunate, I admit. My men were briefed, but anyone with a gun pointed in David’s direction could have been a threat. In any case, all the possibilities you mention didn’t happen.”

  “Which was a bit of luck for us!”

  There was only a slight pause before Juan said, “No such thing.”

  Chapter 29

  Scotland

  The flights back to Edinburgh were mercifully and beautifully mundane. No delays, no lost cases, the in flight food was fine, and the Iberian staff were polite, efficient, and good-looking. In Edinburgh it was raining but it soon cleared up so it was overcast but dry as Alicia met them. Tomas and Julie, who had been seeing quite a lot of each other under the pretext of language lessons, came too and brought a second car. Rather than immediately splitting up, Gillian offered to have everyone round for tea but it was a half-hearted affair. Alicia wanted Juan home, Alison wanted Jen home, Tomas and Julie were set for dinner at the Tapas Tree in Forth Street followed by salsa dancing, and David was tired and weak from the travel. So they sat round, drank coke, ate pizza and chatted a bit, then as soon as it was polite to do so got up to go. The results of Jen’s tests were clear – no physical infections and emotionally she seemed to be making a good recovery. All the same Alison felt they just needed time doing normal things to get back into a healthy routine and was keen to get started. As everyone was leaving David took his coat down and started struggling into it one-handedly. Gillian saw everyone else off, shut the door, took the coat back off, and hung it on its peg. Then she did what she had been wanting to do for a long time – took his fedora off and sent it spinning down the hall. David himself was turned around, firmly headed back into the living room and sat down on the sofa.