The Ignorance of Blood

  ‘Just remember, Consuelo, that I am your friend,’ said Falcón. ‘Whatever this has done to us, I am still your friend. I want to get Darío back as much as you do. I did not kidnap him and it's not me threatening him with harm, and I will do everything I can to bring him back safely.’

  ‘That's why I said, it's our enemies who've brought us together this time,’ said Consuelo. ‘I only understood that by working on the transcript.’

  ‘They are trying to do something very tricky here. They want to remind you that I am responsible for all this – not them,’ said Falcón. ‘But they also need me to be your friend because they know that what you're asking of me is very difficult.’

  ‘I realize that they want me to corrupt you,’ said Consuelo. ‘They believe that by holding my son they will have reduced me to their own moral level and that I will make you my friend, or even my lover, in order to corrupt you for my own purposes.’

  ‘You don't need to talk me through this, Consuelo.’

  ‘I do. I need you to understand that I know exactly what they're doing,’ said Consuelo. ‘They're making me a whore, in the hope that I will entice you to corrupt yourself, and I hate them for it. I could kill them for that, let alone taking Darío.’

  And in that moment he fell for her all over again. If he'd thought that he loved her in the airport on Saturday he'd been mistaken, because what filled him now was an admiration so complete that he wanted to kiss those lips that had spoken such words.

  He knew then that he would do anything for her.

  ‘The one thing that is not established here, and given the stress of the call you were unlikely to think of it, is whether they have Darío or not,’ said Falcón.

  ‘You mean I didn't ask for some proof that he was alive?’

  ‘Not exactly. I'm sure that Darío is being held by Russians; we're just not sure which group,’ said Falcón.

  He explained how Leonid Revnik had taken over the Russian mafia on the Costa del Sol after his predecessor had fled to Dubai and how Yuri Donstov had arrived in Seville. He also laid out his theory of Russian mafia involvement in the Seville bombing.

  ‘But why would the Russians involve themselves in something like that?’ asked Consuelo.

  ‘Because they were invited to do so by the conspirators,’ said Falcón. ‘Lucrecio Arenas and César Benito didn't know how to plant a bomb, they needed men of violence to do it for them. They had access to these people presumably because they were doing some money-laundering for them. The idea was that the Russians would be rewarded in the political fallout after the bombing. It didn't happen. And not only that, their whole criminal organization was put at risk. The Russians did the only thing possible and assassinated the Catholic conspiracy's ringleaders before they could implicate them.’

  ‘And this huge amount of money and the disks?’

  ‘They represent a complication. They came into our hands because of a defection from Revnik to Donstov by a gangster called Vasili Lukyanov,’ said Falcón. ‘It means that men in both groups were possibly responsible for the Seville bomb and also that both groups will want to get their hands on those disks, because they will give them the leverage they need.’

  ‘What exactly is on those disks?’

  ‘They show powerful people having sex with prostitutes. The most important people on those disks, as far as my investigation is concerned, are the ones who are representatives of the two companies who I think originally initiated the Seville bombing: an American corporation, called I4IT, who own a Spanish holding company in Barcelona, called Horizonte.’

  ‘And those companies are now excluding the Russians because they no longer need, or want, their brand of violence.’

  ‘I have no proof of any of this,’ said Falcón. ‘All I know is that the original idea behind the Seville bomb was to take political control of the Andalucían state parliament and I can only assume that there would ultimately be economic rewards for those involved. What's happening now is smaller scale. It's just business. I'm not sure what the business is, but it's probably something to do with construction in or around Seville. I think the Russians got their foot in the door with Lucrecio Arenas and César Benito, and they still want their reward for the dirty work they've done.’

  ‘So whichever mafia group holds the disks can exert pressure on I4IT and Horizonte.’

  ‘My guess is that Darío is being held by Yuri Donstov, who was expecting delivery of the disks from Vasili Lukyanov when the car accident put his whole strategy in jeopardy.’

  ‘Does Leonid Revnik know that Lukyanov has disappeared with the disks?’

  ‘We assume so, because Lukyanov's best friend was found shot dead in the woods behind Estepona.’

  ‘So it could just as easily be Revnik holding Darío, trying to get back in the game?’

  ‘If Lukyanov had the foresight to ensure that he had the originals and there were no copies, then yes,’ said Falcón.

  ‘If I was him, I'd have made sure of that,’ said Consuelo. ‘That money and the disks were probably in the same safe and he stole both.’

  ‘Lukyanov ran puti clubs. He controlled the girls. So he was probably responsible for the secret filming of what they did with these men,’ said Falcón, tapping the transcript.

  ‘And the money?’

  ‘I'm thinking about that,’ said Falcón. ‘They're asking for the return of €8.2 million, but Ramírez told me there was only €7.75 million accounted for.’

  ‘Light-fingered Guardia Civil on the motorway?’ said Consuelo.

  ‘Or the Russians are lying.’

  ‘Or they don't know. They're guessing.’

  Falcón paced slowly around the patio.

  ‘You're very calm,’ he said, suddenly. ‘I don't know how …’

  ‘Because in making me their agent they've given me power,’ said Consuelo. ‘I know nothing will happen to Darío while I can still do things for them.’

  ‘A further complication,’ said Falcón, ideas occurring to him all the time. ‘The reason we need proof that whoever we're talking to is holding Darío, is that they could both say that they're holding him.’

  ‘So far I've only been contacted by one group,’ said Consuelo. ‘And they used an email address that is strictly for friends and family.’

  ‘You think only Darío could have given them that address?’ asked Falcón. ‘Do you have any protection on that computer? It's a family PC. You probably don't even need a password to use it. Anybody could have found that out.’

  ‘All right,’ said Consuelo, thinking desperately. ‘There's been no media coverage yet, so only the group that's performed the abduction will know about it.’

  ‘That's in the perfect world,’ said Falcón, ‘but these mafia groups have connections everywhere. The corruption is deep. They've penetrated the Guardia Civil and it wouldn't surprise me if they had someone in the Jefatura.’

  ‘So they would know if you called on other resources, too,’ said Consuelo, alarmed.

  Falcón nodded, feeling the box they were in getting tighter and darker.

  ‘What… what about their demands?’ said Consuelo, the earlier calm beginning to dissipate now that she could sense their isolation.

  ‘The first obstacle is the money,’ said Falcón. ‘We can't get our hands on the cash. It's already in the Banco de Bilbao and I have no authority over it. That lies with Comisario Elvira, and we don't want him involved in any of this.’

  ‘The Russians probably know that, or have guessed it,’ said Consuelo hopefully. ‘They probably felt they had to ask for the money, especially that amount of money, or they'd have made the disks look too important. They'll be understanding about the money.’

  ‘They'll have to be,’ said Falcón. ‘It's not a possibility.’

  ‘If the Russians have their people in the Jefatura, why don't they just lift the disks themselves?’

  ‘No, that's true, we're not exactly a high-security institution,’ said Falcón, ‘the disks are in a saf
e in the evidence room, which during office hours is heavily used and manned, especially as the money was kept there until it was moved this afternoon. Only two people have the key and the combination of that safe: Elvira and myself.’

  ‘And there are only the originals in existence?’

  ‘No, there are copies of parts of the disks on the Homicide squad's computer and to access it you'd need not only the passwords to the system, but also the encryption software to unscramble the shots.’

  They fell silent again. Falcón focused on the problem. If, as Consuelo's business brain had intuited, I4IT/Horizonte were excluding the Russians from whatever this new deal was, then it could be crucial for the Russians to know that Juan Valverde, Antonio Ramos and Charles Taggart were going to be in Seville tomorrow evening and night.

  ‘You've gone quiet on me again, Javier.’

  Falcón reached for his mobile, called Ramírez.

  ‘How did you know that the money from the Lukyanov accident had left the Jefatura?’ he asked him.

  ‘Because you'd signed the money into the Jefatura it was technically Homicide squad evidence, so I had to accompany Comisario Elvira to the evidence room and sign it over to him, so that he could sign it over to Prosegur for delivery to the bank,’ said Ramírez.

  ‘Was the money in the safe?’

  ‘As much as they could fit in,’ said Ramírez. ‘There was still one block in the Prosegur box.’

  ‘Did you see inside the safe when Elvira opened it?’

  ‘Sure. We took the money out together.’

  ‘What was left in there?’

  ‘The disks from the car accident.’

  ‘Did you see the safe locked afterwards?’

  ‘Elvira locked it.’

  ‘No other copies of those disks were made?’

  ‘The guy from the Jefatura's IT department came to our office. He took one, sometimes two, images from each piece of footage, which best showed the faces of the participants, and that's all we have on the Homicide computer.’

  ‘What about the images you sent to me which I emailed to the CNI?’

  ‘They were cropped faces only. No visible fucking. If somebody could access your computer, those shots wouldn't be much use to them,’ said Ramírez. ‘What's bothering you?’

  ‘Just making sure,’ said Falcón. ‘How did you and Pérez get on with El Pulmón's car?’

  ‘His bloody fingerprints were all over it and there was a bloody T-shirt on the back seat. All blood samples in the car correspond to the Cuban, Miguel Estévez,’ said Ramírez. ‘That was as far as we got on site. The vehicle's been taken down to the Jefatura so that the forensics can go over it tomorrow.’

  Consuelo's mobile, the one she'd used to call the Russians, rang. Falcón glanced at her. She looked at the screen.

  ‘The restaurant,’ she said, and took the call.

  ‘Did anybody see El Pulmón leaving the vehicle?’ asked Falcón.

  ‘Not leaving the vehicle, but we've found an old guy who saw a man stripped to the waist, with a red stain over his chest and a dark stain on the front of his trousers, running down Calle Héroes de Toledo towards the centre of town.’

  ‘Work on it, José Luis,’ said Falcón. ‘We need El Pulmón.’

  ‘I've got Serrano and Baena on it. They were getting nowhere with the Narcs. I think this is a better bet. They'll be at it tomorrow morning, first thing.’

  Falcón hung up. Consuelo finished her call.

  ‘That's not the mobile that Inspector Jefe Tirado is supposed to be recording?’

  ‘It's the one I used to call the Russians.’

  ‘Was that them?’

  ‘I gave the number to my restaurant manager before I came out.’

  ‘Haven't you got your regular mobile with you?’

  ‘The Russians aren't going to call me on that one. I left it at home.’

  ‘Who knows you're here?’

  ‘Nobody.’

  ‘What about the people in your house?’

  ‘They think I'm in bed,’ said Consuelo. ‘I went into my neighbour's garden, out through the front and took a cab here.’

  ‘You don't trust the good guys any more?’

  ‘I can't,’ she said, looking desperate.

  ‘All right,’ said Falcón, holding his hands up to keep her calm. ‘What did your restaurant manager want?’

  ‘Somebody came in off the street a few minutes ago, gave one of the waiters an envelope and said he was to make sure that it was given to me tonight.’

  20

  Consuelo Jiménez's restaurant, La Macarena, Seville – Monday, 18th September 2006, 23.25 hrs

  The envelope lay on Consuelo's desk. She locked the door to her office and booted up the computer while Falcón put on latex gloves. The envelope was a jiffy bag with SRA JIMÉNEZ written on it in black felt-tip pen. Inside was a white envelope with the flap folded in, not stuck down. On a piece of white card was written: TO SPEAK TO DARíO CALL 655926109. He held it up to Consuelo, who had now accessed her home email account and opened the single message in the inbox.

  ‘This is timed at 22.20, about an hour after I left home,’ she said. ‘It says: “Our patience is not infinite. Call: 619238741.”’

  ‘So, both players at the table now,’ said Falcón. ‘One bluffing.’

  ‘We'll call the new people first,’ said Consuelo. ‘See what they want and how they ask for it. We might get an idea which group they're from.’

  ‘Make a demand,’ said Falcón. ‘You should ask to speak to Darío first. That's what they've offered, but they probably won't allow it. They won't want to give away too much too early. In a kidnapping such as this information will be released by degrees. “Do this and we'll tell you something about him, do the next thing and we'll let you hear his voice …” Then they'll send a photo and finally they'll let you speak to him. We want to establish who is holding him, so we must ask for reasonable proof. Is there something about Darío that no ordinary person would know?’

  ‘He has a red birthmark on the underside of his left arm near the armpit. We call it his strawberry,’ she said.

  ‘Tell them to ask Darío about his mark and what he calls it,’ said Falcón. ‘Have you got a dictaphone?’

  She dug out a small digital dictaphone. They tested it. She turned it on, wiped her damp palms with tissues, picked up the phone, switched on the loudspeaker, dialled the number. She took a deep breath, summoned the performance of her life.

  ‘Diga,’ said a voice.

  ‘My name is Consuelo Jiménez and I want to speak to Darío.’

  ‘Wait.’

  The phone changed hands.

  ‘Señora Jiménez…’

  ‘I received a message telling me to call this number if I wanted to speak to my son, Darío. Would you put him on the line, please.’

  ‘There are some things we have to discuss first,’ said the voice, in perfect Castilian Spanish.

  ‘What things? You have my son. I have nothing of yours. There are no “things” to discuss apart from the return of my son, and that can be done after I've spoken to him.’

  ‘Listen to me, Señora Jiménez. I can understand that you are very anxious about your son. You would like to speak to him, that is natural, but there are certain things we must establish first.’

  ‘You are absolutely right –’

  ‘May I say, Señora Jiménez, that I admire your calmness in this situation. Most mothers I know would be incapable of speaking to me like this on the phone.’

  ‘I would cry, beat my breast and vomit with grief, if I thought that for one moment it would make any impression on you,’ said Consuelo. ‘But if you think I'm made of strong stuff, I know you're made of crueller stuff, and so human emotion is unlikely to move you to return my son. So this is what you get. Now, let's establish something before we go any further: I want to talk to my son.’

  ‘That is not possible at the moment.’

  ‘You see, you are already going back on your wor
d,’ said Consuelo. ‘Your message is clear. It says –’

  ‘I know what the message says, Señora Jiménez,’ said the voice, with a bit of steel in it now. ‘I wrote it. But you must be patient.’

  ‘Don't talk to me about being patient. You will never comprehend the impatience of a mother who has had her child taken from her. So don't use that word again,’ said Consuelo. ‘If you won't let me speak to my son, which I regard as the ultimate proof that he is safe and well, then you must go to Darío and ask him about his mark and tell me what he says.’

  ‘His mark?’

  ‘Ask Darío, he will tell you all you need to know to convince me.’

  ‘One moment, please.’

  A long silence.

  ‘Is there anybody there?’ she asked, after some minutes.

  ‘Please hold the line for a moment longer, Señora Jiménez,’ said the voice. ‘This is something for which permission is required.’

  ‘Permission?’

  ‘There is a higher authority in this matter. We are in contact with them now.’

  More silence. After five long minutes the voice returned.

  ‘Señora Jiménez, do you understand the nature of the people you are dealing with here?’

  ‘If you mean: do I know you are members of a Russian mafia group, then the answer is yes. Which group, I don't know.’

  ‘Perhaps your friend Inspector Jefe Javier Falcón knows,’ said the voice. ‘Yes, we know you're there, Inspector Jefe, we saw you enter the restaurant together.’

  ‘Are you associated with Leonid Revnik?’ asked Falcón.

  ‘That is correct,’ said the voice. ‘Señor Revnik has been away in Moscow. Since he took over the operations in the Costa del Sol some structural problems have developed in our organization in the Iberian Peninsula.’

  ‘You mean Yuri Donstov has assumed control of certain pieces of business in Seville and had poached Vasili Lukyanov.’

  ‘Señor Revnik was in Moscow for a meeting of the Supreme Council of the five most powerful Russian brigades with soldiers on the ground in Spain,’ said the voice. ‘They found that Yuri Donstov was responsible for the murders of two senior members of one of the brigades and has moved into trades where we have agreements with our Italian and Turkish friends about how certain things should be done. We cannot allow that. It was the unanimous decision of the Supreme Council that Yuri Donstov's operations be stopped and his group disbanded.’