“Look, Daniel, this is where we met. Remember? The years go by, but it still smells of piss. It’s the eternal Barcelona that never fades away . . .”

“Don’t get all mushy, now.”

Alicia and the policeman were crossing the square toward the exit that led to the Ramblas.

“They’re going to catch a taxi,” Fermín deduced. “The show’s beginning.”

They turned and caught sight of the spy peeping through the arches.

“Can you elaborate?” asked Daniel.

“Go up to him and kick him in the gonads as hard as you can. He’s just a weakling, and I’m sure he’ll oblige.”

“Do you have an alternative plan?”

Fermín sighed, exasperated. He then noticed a local policeman calmly patrolling the square, staring in amazement at the generous cleavage of a couple of tarts posted outside the main door of the Hostal Ambos Mundos.

“Make sure you don’t lose sight of your darling angel and the big guy,” ordered Fermín.

“What about you? What are you going to do?”

“Look and learn from the master.”

Fermín shot off in the direction of the policeman, whom he saluted, military style, and with great ceremony. “Chief,” he said. “I find it my painful duty to report a crime against decorum and decency.”

“And what crime might that be?”

“Can Your Excellency make out the tadpole over there, hiding lustfully under that cheap and smelly coat and pretending to pass for a model citizen?”

“You mean that kid?”

“That’s no kid, boss. It is with a heavy heart that I certify, so help me God, that beneath that stinky coat he’s as naked as a newborn baby. What’s more, he’s been disgracefully swinging his dick at some ladies, and spewing language I wouldn’t dare repeat to a crew of sailors.”

The policeman grabbed his billy club energetically. “Are you sure?”

“As God is my witness. There he goes, a pig through and through, in search of new opportunities to strike again.”

“Well, then, he’s in for a rude awakening.” The policeman pulled out his whistle and pointed at the suspect with his club. “Hey, you there! Stop!”

Realizing the fix he’d been put into, the spy ran off, the policeman trailing behind him. Fermín, satisfied with his distracting ploy, hurried over to join Daniel, who was waiting by the taxi rank.

“Where are they?”

“They just got into a cab. There they go.”

Fermín pushed Daniel into the second taxi. The driver, a master juggler of the toothpick in the mouth, looked at them through his rearview mirror. “I’m not going to Pueblo Nuevo,” he warned.

“That’s your loss. See the taxi over there?”

“Cipriano’s cab?”

“That’s the one. Follow it and don’t lose him. It’s a matter of life and death, and a good tip.”

The taxi driver set the meter running and smiled acidly. “I thought these things only happened in American movies.”

“Your prayers have been answered. Step on it, and eyes on the prize.”

11

The twenty minutes it took them to reach the police station felt like twenty years. Fernandito traveled in the back seat, next to Hendaya, who was smoking in silence and every now and then offered him a smile and a “Relax, don’t worry” that curdled his blood. Two of Hendaya’s men sat in the front. Neither of them spoke a word during the entire journey. It was a cold night, but although the car was freezing inside, Fernandito could feel the sweat trickling down his sides. He watched the city file past behind the car windows as if he were bidding farewell to a place to which he would never return. Pedestrians and cars went by just meters away, unreachable. When they came to the crossing of Calle Balmes and Gran Vía and stopped at a red light, he felt the urge to open the door and break into a run, but his body didn’t respond. Seconds later, when the car started off again, he realized that the doors were locked.