“And you behind them.”

“Of course.”

“How far did you follow them?”

“Not far from there. The Mercedes went into a whole lot of narrow, elegant streets—the sort that smell of eucalyptus trees, where you only see maids and gardeners passing by—until we got to Cuatro Caminos, and from there to Avenida del Tibidabo. I was almost ironed flat by the blue tram.”

“You should wear a helmet.”

“I’ve got a US army regulation helmet that I bought at the Encantes flea market. It looks great on me. I’ve written ‘Private Fernandito’ on it, with a thick felt-tip pen—”

“Get to the point, Fernandito.”

“Sorry. I followed them up Avenida del Tibidabo, up to where the tram line ends.”

“They were going to the funicular stop?”

“No. The chauffeur and Myrna—Señora . . . Ubach—continued along the street that goes around it, and then the car drove into the house that’s on that hill, just above the avenue, the one that looks like a fairy-tale castle and you can see from all over the place. It’s got to be the prettiest house in all of Barcelona.”

“It is. It’s called El Pinar,” said Alicia, who remembered having seen it a thousand times as a child when she was allowed out of the orphanage on Sundays, and liked to imagine herself living there in the company of a huge library and a night view of the city at her feet, spreading like a magic carpet sown with stars. “What about the police?”

“In the police car there were two dog-faced thugs. One of them posted himself by the front door of the house while the other went into La Venta restaurant to make a phone call. I waited there for almost an hour, but there were no movements whatsoever. In the end, when one of the officers gave me a look I didn’t like, I came back to tell you what had happened and await your orders.”

“You’ve done a stellar job, Fernandito. You clearly have what it takes for this business.”

“Do you think so?”

“I’m going to promote you with immediate effect from Private Fernandito to what in English is called a corporal.”

“And what is that?”

“Pull out a dictionary, Fernandito. People who don’t learn languages have their brains turned into cauliflower mush.”

“The things you know. . . . What are your orders, then?”

Alicia thought for a few seconds. “I want you to change your clothes, into something dark, and put on a cap. Then you go back there and keep watch. But leave the Vespa parked farther away, just in case the policeman who looked at you recognizes it.”

“I’ll leave it next to the Hotel La Rotonda and then take the blue tram up.”

“Good idea. Then try to see what’s going on inside the house, but don’t take any risks. None whatsoever. At the slightest hint that someone may have noticed you, leg it. Understood?”

“Yessir.”

“Come back in two or three hours and give me an update.”