“I don’t know,” Alicia admitted. “What would you do?”

Vargas considered the question. “I would destroy it,” he declared. “The truth isn’t going to do anyone any good. And it might put them in danger.”

Alicia nodded. “Unless . . .”

“Think this through before saying it, Alicia.”

“I think I’ve already thought it through.”

“I thought we were going to let it pass, and just be happy.”

“You and I are never going to be happy, Vargas.”

“Put like that, woman, how can I refuse?”

“You don’t need to tag along. It’s my problem.”

Vargas smiled at her. “You’re my problem, Alicia. Or my salvation, even if the thought makes you laugh.”

“I’ve never saved anyone.”

“It’s never too late to begin.”

He stood up, collected her coat, and handed it to her. “What do you say? Shall we screw up our lives forever, or would you rather let the years go by, only to find out that you haven’t a shred of talent for writing, and for me to accept that Lope only works when performed onstage?”

Alicia slipped her coat on.

“Where would you like to begin?” asked Vargas.

“By the entrance to the labyrinth . . .”

* * *

Daniel shivered with cold in his doorway hideout. Fermín, despite being as thin as a rake and sporting a build mainly composed of cartilage, seemed happy as a clam, passing the time by humming a son montuno while he lightly swayed his hips in his tropical style.

“I can’t understand how you’re not cold, Fermín. I’m frozen shitless.”

Fermín undid a couple of buttons to reveal the folded newspaper lining he wore under his clothes.

“Applied science,” he explained. “This and a few well-chosen memories of the little mulatto girl I had in Havana in my younger days.”

“Holy Mary . . .”

Daniel was considering walking over to the Gran Café to ask for a piping-hot coffee with a generous dash of brandy when they heard a creak from the door to Alicia’s building and saw her come out, accompanied by a solidly built guy with a military look about him.

“Look at the Tarzan our minx has found herself,” remarked Fermín.

“Stop calling her a minx. Her name is Alicia.”

“It’s time you got over your puberty. You’re a family man and a father now. Let’s go.”

“And what do we do about the other one?”

“The spy? Don’t worry. I’m formulating a devastating strategy as we speak.”

Alicia and the big fellow, who clearly belonged to the forces of law and order, turned into Calle Fernando toward the Ramblas. Following Fermín’s plan, they walked casually past the spy, who had buried himself in the shadows of the street corner without acknowledging their presence. At that time of night the street was more lively than usual, thanks to a contingent of sailors on the hunt for a cultural exchange and the odd rake from the better part of town, come down to the city’s bowels to satisfy his illicit bedroom urges. Fermín and Daniel used each gaggle of pedestrians as a curtain until they reached the arches leading to Plaza Real.