Corruption's Price: A Spanish Deceit (50 page)

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Emilia." After exchanging kisses,
Tío
Toño said, "Are you going out or are you always so 'engagingly' dressed? You look sensational."

Tío
Toño hoped he had captured the right tone.

Emilia crowed with pleasure. Her laugh was not her most attractive attribute, but having to compete with her appearance meant it drowned by comparison.

"I'm going out on the town with a new friend I met yesterday in the Retiro. I couldn't wear this to work. What would people think? And it would be a shame to waste it."

Tio
Toño mentally disagreed. He knew exactly what everyone at work would think, and say, though not to her face. Strangely, his second impression was that whatever they might think or say would not bother her at all. She had an impressive self-possession, which no doubt attracted when packaged like that.

"I tried convincing Caterina to come out with me but she has no interest in finding the best in Madrid." Emilia pulled a disapproving face at Caterina, who declined the bait, before re-addressing
Tío
Toño: "I hope you're staying. I'd like to get to know you better."

"I plan to stay until the end of the week. I've some tasks to perform here in Madrid, though the one I completed on my way here was to my great satisfaction. It was to congratulate
Juez
Garibey, whom I believe you've both met."

Producing her smartphone from the slimmest of handbags, Emilia checked it before asking, "Would you excuse me,
tío
Toño? I have a taxi picking me up two minutes ago. I do want to hear what the
Juez
said, if you don't mind telling me about it another time?"

"Of course, my dear. I mustn't keep you from your assignation."

"Assignations more likely," countered Caterina.

Emilia and Caterina exchanged knowing glances.

Emilia departed after giving
tío
Toño a farewell kiss.

When the door shut behind her all he had been able to say was, "What an image!"

"You're not the first and won't be the last to say so,
tío
. That girl lives on pheromones and has done since the first day I met her. I don't think she's ever had a relationship lasting longer than a month. Even then there were few of those.

"Anyhow, I forget my manners. May I help you to your bedroom? You know that Davide insists that it's always kept ready for you? I'm also preparing a light dinner for myself. No, that's not strictly true. I'm taking the fruits of Ángela's wonderful efforts and assembling a selection for myself. May I interest you in joining me for dinner in your own
piso
? Or do you have other plans?"

"Thank you, Catalina. No, I've no plans. I'd love to join you. I can't think of anything nicer, and if it means suffering by eating Ángela's delights, I'm happy to oblige. She'll be especially happy to learn I've done so."

Actually, he did have plans. A discreet phone call from his bedroom would postpone those. He had seen the unhappiness in Caterina's eyes, however hard she tried to mask it. In truth, spending an evening in her company, rather than with a cantankerous old male lawyer friend, was a much lovelier prospect.

The only downside would be the unspoken elephant not in the room: Davide.

Sunday: Toño and Davide

Tío
Toño walked up the slight hill from Malasaña to the southern part of Fuencarral, crossed the Glorieta de Bilbao and headed up the northern part. On Sunday mornings this was shut between the
Glorietas
of Bilbao and Quevedo with the roadway temporarily becoming a long pedestrian precinct where children came out to play and ride their various wheeled contraptions in the presence of friends, parents, grandparents and anyone else who cared to join in. It was cheerful. Temporary stalls were on the pavements whilst the cafés and bars were doing a roaring trade with the sun out, a clear-blue Madrid sky above and an occasional aircraft contrail to add visual vigour.

Yet
tío
Toño was apprehensive. The dinner with Caterina had been pleasant. It had been made better by her refusal to mention Davide until they returned to the salon for coffee. By that time she had shared much of what had passed since the visit to Marbella, especially as related to the investigation. He now thought he understood the background much better, helped by Rafa's own explanations.

In the salon, and by now more than a little inebriated, Caterina had opened up. Much as in Marbella she placed the blame more on herself and her own behaviour than on Davide. In his view it took two not to tango but he had refrained from saying as much. Instead he had listened until she wound down. They had, shortly afterwards, headed for bed.

By mid-morning, when he left to meet Davide, there was no sign of Caterina or of Emilia. As he left his building Toño thought he saw Emilia weaving her way down the street – dishevelled, if it was her. Deliberately he had turned to go in the opposite direction. He did not want to see the radiance of the previous evening ravaged.

Walking among the children with their grandparents was a particular joy. He remembered Davide as a small child in his sister's arms in this very street. After a couple of hundred metres he found the
panadería
Davide had suggested as having particularly good bread and took a table on the pavement outside that had just become free. He ordered a
café con leche
and opened
El País
to inspect the ruins of Pastor Nieves.

There he found was much gloating from the left. There was handwringing from the right, as if it had never been complacent. He soon found the unexpected.

A host of government ministers, from both sides of the coalition of PC and
la Piz,
and even senior officials of other parties, were resigning.
Diputados
were doing the same. Across Spain, whether in town halls, provincial assemblies or Comunidad parliaments the exodus was beyond belief.

What had caused this? Apparently, an emergency decree issued by the King. People were doing something unheard of – voluntarily removing themselves from office. Were they taking responsibility? That would be a welcome first, thought
tío
Toño.

Reading on he found the King had taken it upon himself, given the gravity of the national situation and the imminent absence of so many members of his government, to offer a sort of amnesty. If within the next six weeks those who had benefitted from corruption resigned their offices, confessed what wrongs they had done, renounced voting privileges and the seeking of public office for a decade and made at least 50 per cent restitution, criminal prosecution would not follow.

There were conditions. Confession had to be voluntary, public and registered within three months and came with the proviso that, if any part was proven incomplete or inaccurate, prosecutions would follow. In addition, all restitution payments had to be made to Hacienda within twelve months of each confession being registered. Again, failure to comply would result in prosecution.

The King had been cunning, reflected
tío
Toño. If A confessed that he or she had participated with B that placed pressure on B to do the same. Perhaps this explained the scale of the uptake in only a few days. The numbers left him speechless. Had everyone been on the fiddle? It looked like it.

For now, pending new national elections, also announced, the practical business of running the administration was in the hands of an Isidoro Silvestre, a largely unknown bureaucrat who allegedly had resigned from Moncloa the previous week because he refused to execute what Pastor Nieves had ordered – the termination of Rafa's enquiries. If true, he was a principled man. Good for him, thought
tío
Toño, although 'poor sod' is probably more applicable. The scale of the mess to handle and having to deal through the few politicians who remained would be monstrous.

"
Buenos días
,
tío,
" Davide greeted Toño from above. "No, don't get up."

Davide leant over to shake hands and kiss him gently on one cheek.

"Only a coffee? Did you not order some of the
Pan de Cullera
for
tostadas
as I suggested?"

"I forgot the name. Now you can do it for us both."

Davide attracted a waitress and obliged. The pair inspected each other.

"You look as elegant as always,
tío
."

"You're looking much better yourself, Davide. It seems Ángela has worked wonders since our lunch."

"Everyone says so. Besides Ángela, it was you who's improved me. For her it's been a labour of Hercules."

"Not the way she tells it. She loves it and doesn't wish to stop. I'll be impoverished or dead before she's satisfied."

"You may be spared imminent penury. My involvement in ORS and with Pedro's people is pretty much at an end. I need to find some new clients. I can't live off you or the Vatican's reward indefinitely. That probably means leaving Spain."

"Are there no prospects here? Where would you go? Back to England? California? ... Australia?"

"You're trawling,
tío
. No, I don't mind. I knew it would happen. There's only one possible prospect in Spain at present but it comes with complications."

"More complications?"

"All right, I give in. What do you want to know?"

"Everything. What else?"

Before Davide could respond the
tostadas
and coffees arrived. He used the adding of olive oil and tomato to his
tostada
as a delaying tactic as he tried to decide in what order to explain. There was no good order. In any case,
tío
Toño sat patiently, not saying a word or offering any comfort.

His
tostada
finished, Davide had no alternative but to start. He guessed that what
tío
Toño really wanted to know was about Caterina. That meant explaining about how she had walked out, how he had accidentally been the person with whom Ana had shared her insights, followed by their subsequent incarceration in her apartment while matters took their course with the culmination being the events of the past week with
Juez
Garibey.

"Nicely presented, Davide. Absolutely in your father's style."

"What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well. You've summarised all in a concise yet arid form without telling me an iota of what truly matters. Just like your father. In case you can't tell, what I want to know is how you feel about Caterina and Ana. I know nothing more about your feelings than when I arrived in Madrid to find you staying elsewhere and without having told me."

"For the latter, I apologise. I should have. As I told you, I was pretty much obliged to stay at Ana's. When our enforced seclusion ended it was too complicated to move back. And no, you can't ask if I've been to bed with Ana. That's none of your business."

"Of course it is. In Spain such things matter, though I agree it's less than they used to. You care for Ana?"

"Yes, and she's Spanish. You'll be pleased that there's one part of me that delights in a continuing Spanish connection and I think you will approve of Ana in particular. Yet there's another part that delights with Caterina, partly through shared interests in systems but more because I ... I have no words. There's a different, perhaps more cerebral, connection yet accompanied by mutual attraction. Counterbalancing these, with Ana I have to think about the dead hand of Spanish family rigidities with all their weighty impositions, while with Caterina there's her instability, and Australia is a long distance to travel, for I suspect that moving there might be required."

Tío
Toño considered before he spoke again. "I agree. You're in a tough place. I'd thought as much. You have my genuine sympathies. I don't know what to suggest."

Davide was touched.

"There's also Inma."

"What? A third lady? What are you up to? Founding a harem, or a brothel?"

"No." Davide explained about Inma, her business and how Ana had recommended him to Inma not knowing that Davide had done the same for Ana.

"Heavens above, Davide! You sure know how to make life complicated. No wonder you can rescue the Vatican and bring down governments." His chuckle was now far friendlier and more uncle-like than minutes before. "Right, here's what we'll do. On Tuesday I'm having a dinner party at my
piso
for us two, Caterina and Emilia, Ana and this Inma. That makes two old men and four young ladies; hardly fair on them."

"Inma's older than I am, if in fantastic shape."

"That's irrelevant. Who else can we ask? Rafa Garibey? Maybe not. What about Pedro, this policeman?"

"He'd be a good choice. It might be wise to ask Emilia in case she has an escort in mind, although it might not be so good inviting someone who no one else knows."