The Sentinel: 1 (Vengeance of Memory) (72 page)

The man spoke.
‘Buenas noches,
Galindez.’

Nervous anticipation exploded into anger. ‘Fuck off, Sancho.’

Even in the dark, she sensed his mocking smile. ‘No can do, Galindez. You’ve got something I want.’

‘Ana?’ Tali whispered, turning the key in the lock.
‘Vamos.’

‘Back away, Sancho.’ Galindez’s voice was tight.
‘Que te vayas coño.’

Sancho inhaled, his cigarette glowing in the dark. ‘I’m going nowhere,
guapa.
We need to talk to you.’

Galindez aimed the pistol at his chest, using the glow of his cigarette as a guide.
We need to talk to you.
She thought. The bastard. What could he ever say that wasn’t threats or lies?
We need to talk to you.
She tensed.
We?

A sound to her right. Agustín Benitez was ten metres away, half crouching on the pavement by the side of a parked car. As Galindez turned her pistol to cover Benitez, Sancho started to move stealthily across the street towards her.

The silent darkness shattered as Galindez fired. The sound of the shot was bitter and loud, careering around the tall buildings in fragmented echoes. Benitez fell to the ground and rolled under the car, shouting to Sancho to be careful. Galindez turned quickly and fired across the street at Sancho who dived sideways into a pool of deep shadow, his furious curses evidence of her inaccuracy.

Galindez yelled at Tali, telling her to get inside the
comisaría.
Seeing movement in Benitez’s hiding place under the car, she fired in his direction. The car’s windscreen exploded in a white mist of powdered glass, the bullet shrieking away into the night. Lights began to come on in some of the buildings. Galindez started to move towards the door of the
comisaría.

‘Galindez, stop,’ Sancho yelled. ‘Don’t go in there.’ He jumped to his feet and ran after her.

She turned and aimed at him. He was only four metres away.
This time, cabrón.
Seeing Galindez raise the pistol, Sancho threw himself to the ground again. The bullet struck the ground a metre from his prone body and whined away into the darkness. Sancho’s startled shout echoed around the darkened street. ‘Fucking stupid dyke. Put that gun away.’

Tali pushed the big door wider. ‘Ana.
Vamos, rapida.’

Galindez rushed to the door, hearing Sancho’s boots clattering on the cobbles behind her. She stumbled on the step, falling full length onto the cold tiled floor of the vestibule, the pistol clattering from her hand. Tali slammed the heavy door with a loud reverberating crash. Struggling to her feet, Galindez helped close the huge wooden latch and slide home the heavy bolts at the top and bottom of the door. The door shuddered as someone outside threw their weight against it.

‘They’ll never get in through that. And all the windows are barred,’ Galindez said, hoping she was right.

Muffled banging on the door. Sancho’s voice, angry, shouting abuse.

‘Let’s go further inside, we won’t be able to hear him then,’ Tali suggested.

Galindez looked round in vain for the pistol, realising it must have fallen to the pavement as she tumbled though the door.

Once through the double doors, in the low corridor leading to Guzmán’s office, all noise from outside faded away and they were once more hemmed in by the cold and silence of Guzmán’s
comisaría.

‘Are you scared, Tali?’

‘No,
para nada.
You?’

‘Course not.’

‘You’re a liar, Ana María.’

‘At least there’s only us in here,’ Galindez said, aware she was trying to reassure herself as much as Tali. Because she knew it wasn’t true. They were not – could not – be truly alone here. Even in his absence, Guzmán was always present in the dark silence. The building itself was a frozen memory of what he did.
Let’s hope we don’t run into him tonight.

They came to Guzmán’s office. The door was still open from their last visit.

‘Ana, before we do this, shall we have one last look at the noticeboard in the mess room – in case there’s something we missed?’

‘Why not?’ Galindez said.

The mess room was still in its dismal state of slow decay, the fittings and furniture mere cobwebbed outlines, melting slowly under layers of accumulated dust. Tali shone the flashlight at a door on the far wall. The door was slightly ajar.

‘Did we look in the armoury, Ana María?’

‘I think so. It was empty, wasn’t it?’ Galindez flicked through the papers on the noticeboard.

‘I’ll check,’ Tali said, pulling the door open.

Galindez found nothing of further interest on the noticeboard and abandoned the old memos and notices. Something was bothering her.

‘Tali,’ she called, ‘I just realised. We left all the lights on last time. Someone turned them off.’

There was no reply. She hesitated, listening to the silence. Something felt different. A subtle change in the atmosphere. Something wrong. ‘Tali?’ Galindez turned towards the armoury. There was no light coming from the half-open door. No noise. Something rustled in the darkness.

‘Natalia?
Qué pasa?’
Galindez felt the edge in her voice.

A sudden chill. The door of the armoury slowly began to open. Something scraped against the inside of the door, something moving.
Guzmán.
The strange grey mist flickered abruptly through her mind and she felt dizzy.
Por Dios, not now. Not with him here.
Struggling to keep the grey fog at bay, Galindez waited as the door opened. Waited for him to emerge.

The door opened a little more and she saw it, pointing at her from the darkness. The dull grey muzzle of a pistol. Galindez recognised the outline from weapons in the ballistics lab: a 9mm Browning semi-automatic.
Guzmán’s gun.

MADRID 2009, COMISARÍA CALLE ROBLES

The cold darkness closed in on Galindez, obscuring the bleak surroundings of the mess room. Her eyes were fixed on the muzzle of the Browning pointing at her from the shadows. The oil-sheen of the metal glinted in the sallow light, the menace of the pistol abruptly closing down choices and alternatives, holding her motionless with its reptilian hypnotic power.
He knew I’d come back.

‘Stay where you are, Ana.’ Tali kept the heavy pistol pointed at Galindez as she stepped from the doorway of the armoury. ‘Stay still and raise your hands.’

‘Tali, that’s not funny,’ Galindez said, simultaneously angry and relieved. At least it wasn’t
him
emerging from the darkened armoury.

But this wasn’t Tali as Galindez knew her, with her golden hair softly framing her delicate features. In the short time in the armoury, Tali had undergone a transformation. Now, her hair was swept back in a tight ponytail, making her face seem gaunt and severe in the half light. A black combat jacket added to her threatening air.

‘Shut up, Ana. I mean it.’ Tali held the pistol in both hands, aiming it at Galindez. ‘If you try anything, I’ll shoot you,
te juro.’

‘I don’t understand. What are you doing?’ Galindez said, confused.

Tali’s face darkened with impatience. ‘Just do as you’re told. Now, pick up that bag.’ She gestured to the canvas bag containing the equipment.

Galindez obeyed, shouldering the heavy bag, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘Tali?’

Tali stood back, still pointing the Browning.
‘Joder,
Ana María, walk ahead of me, that’s it, keep your distance. Right, go down the corridor to Guzmán’s office. Slowly.
Manos arriba, mujer. Arriba, coño.’

Galindez raised her hands awkwardly as she walked along the darkened corridor towards Guzmán’s office. As they reached the door, Tali shoved her in the back with the muzzle of the pistol. Galindez fell forward with a cry of pain and the bag fell to the floor as she stumbled. Tali leapt after her, bringing the butt of her pistol down onto Galindez’s head as she tried to stand. With that, Galindez went sprawling, clutching her head and groaning in shock and pain. She slowly struggled into a sitting position, tentatively examining her scalp. Her hand came away bloody. She moaned. Too dizzy to stand, she looked up at Tali through a veil of blood.

‘Stay there.’ Tali backed away from her. ‘Don’t move and don’t try that fists of fury thing with me either.’

Galindez pressed the wound on her scalp, trying to stop the bleeding. ‘Why are you doing this?’ A thin line of blood trickled down her temple.

Tali glared at her. ‘It’s a stick-up,
querida.
You’re being robbed.’

‘I haven’t got anything to steal.’ There was a plaintive note in Galindez’s voice. ‘Besides, you can have anything of mine. You know that.’

‘I want Guzmán’s book.’

‘But that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To see what’s in it?’

‘Joder,
Ana María, I don’t give a fuck what’s in his book – unlike you with your pathetic obsession with Guzmán.’ She pointed the pistol at Galindez. ‘But I am taking it.’

‘Why would you want it?’

‘Five million euros’ worth of reasons,’ Tali snapped.

Galindez stared at her. ‘You’re going to sell it?’

‘I’ve already got a buyer, Ana. I work to order. Steal to order, if you want to be precise – and God knows you usually do.’

‘Who’s the buyer?’

‘Coño,
guess. They meet in secret, wear little gold rings. Begins with C.’

Galindez looked at her blankly.
‘Los Centinelas
? You’re stealing the book for them?’

‘Venga, guapa,
don’t look so surprised. Who else would want some dusty old book that’s seventy years old? Besides you, of course.’

‘Are you,’ Galindez’s mouth was dry, ‘are you one of
them
?’

‘Me?
Qué va.
They’re not exactly an equal opportunities organisation. In fact, I don’t really know who they are, apart from the guy who arranged things with me. All I know is they expect a good job. And things have to be done their way.’

‘You’re a thief,’ Galindez blurted. She felt nauseous.

Tali scoffed. ‘I’m an investigator. I investigate rare things for clients.’

‘And then what?’

‘Then I steal them and they pay me a lot of money,’ Tali said. ‘It works for me.’

‘If you steal Guzmán’s book,’ Galindez said, ‘I’ll go straight to the
guardia.’

Tali shook her head. ‘No, Ana, you
would
go to the
guardia.
If you lived.’

‘What?’ Galindez felt blood trickle into her eyebrow. ‘You’re going to kill me?’

‘They were very specific. You’re a threat to them – as I’m sure you realise. I’m sorry, Ana. That’s the way it’s got to be. The deal was non-negotiable.’

‘Have you done this before? Killed people?’

Tali looked away. ‘These things happen. I’m sorry.’

‘But not so sorry you won’t shoot me?’

‘No, I want the money. When I was younger, we were poor. Really fucking poor. I’m not having any of that again.’

‘But your dad was a lawyer.’ Galindez protested. She saw Tali’s expression. ‘Oh.’

‘My dad wasn’t anything. He left when the fourth child arrived. My two elder sisters were on the game by the time I was ten. I didn’t want to end up like them. And I haven’t.’

Galindez wiped her eyes. Her head was spinning. There was so much blood it was difficult to see.

‘Anyway,’ Tali said, ‘I have to get moving. I’m booked on a flight this afternoon.’

‘But we…’ Galindez stuttered, her head hung down as exhaustion and pain overcame her. Blood dripped onto the cracked flagstones.

‘Are you still worrying about
us?’
Tali’s laugh was cutting. ‘You’re so slow sometimes,
chica.
We never were
us, entiendes?
I was faking. Christ, you’ve led a sheltered life.’ She sighed. ‘People say things that aren’t true,
niña.
They’re called lies. I lied to you.’

Galindez continued to look down at the stone floor, trying to think. Trying to calculate the distance between them.

Tali sensed something in Galindez’s silence. She pointed to the far wall. ‘I never saw that photograph of Guzmán last time we were here.’

Galindez turned to look, realising her mistake even as she did so. Tali smashed the pistol onto her head once more and Galindez pitched forward onto the flagstones, motionless. Her arms and legs twitched for a moment and then she was still. A thin halo of blood began to form around her head.

‘Sorry,
querida.’
Tali stepped over Galindez’s body and opened the canvas bag, searching for the big, flat-bladed screwdriver. She knelt and pushed the blade into the crack in the floor. The flagstone moved slightly and she struggled, raising the broken slab, levering it up onto its edge and then pushing it backwards. It fell with a resonant crash. It was much easier now to remove the second piece and look down into the dark space covered for so long.

A thin veil of dust rose tentatively into the anaemic light. Tali lay on the flags, peering down into the darkness. Behind her, she heard Galindez’s breathing, rasping and laboured. Tali turned and looked at her for a moment. She got to her feet and stepped across Galindez’s outstretched legs to get her bag and retrieve the big flashlight. The halo of blood around Galindez’s head was black and oily in the white beam, making it hard to tell where hair ended and blood began. Tali lay down once more by the dark space she had uncovered, placing the flashlight alongside the opening. She could no longer hear Galindez breathing.

Tali pointed the flashlight into the cavity below, leaning further into the small space, wriggling to get her head and shoulders into the opening. She looked down, following the beam of light as it cut through the darkness. There were things down there. Things illuminated in the glare of the torch. She leaned forward, desperate to see what those things were.

‘Jesús Cristo,’
she muttered.

26

MADRID 1953, COMISARÍA, CALLE DE ROBLES