13

Although he’d experienced it on countless occasions, the touch of a gun’s barrel on his skin—like the consistency of crème brûlée—was something to which Fermín had never grown accustomed.

“It goes without saying that we come in peace,” he uttered, closing his eyes and raising his hands to signal unconditional surrender.

“Fermín, is that you?” asked an astonished Alicia.

Before Fermín could reply, Daniel poked his head around the doorframe, freezing when he saw the weapon that Vargas was still pointing at his friend’s head.

The policeman breathed out and lowered the revolver. Fermín gave an anxious sigh.

“Can you tell me what the hell you’re doing here?”

“You just stole my line,” said Fermín.

Alicia faced the accusing looks of Daniel and Fermín and weighed her options.

“Just as I was telling you, Daniel,” said Fermín. “Look at her, ever the evil schemer, like the treacherous lamia she is.”

“What’s a lamia?” asked Vargas.

“Don’t be offended, musketeer, but if you traded the firearm for the dictionary, it would work wonders for your vocabulary.”

Vargas took one step forward, and Fermín five back. Alicia raised a hand to signal a truce.

“I think you owe us an explanation, Alicia,” said Daniel.

She looked him straight in the eye and nodded, producing a smile that was enough to dispel all suspicion from the world.

Fermín nudged Daniel. “Daniel, keep your blood flow above the belt and don’t let yourself be taken in.”

“No one wants to take anyone in here, Fermín,” said Alicia.

“Perhaps that’s what you should tell the bathing beauty,” murmured Fermín, pointing at the murky pool water. “An acquaintance of yours?”

“There’s an explanation for this,” Alicia began.

“Alicia . . . ,” Vargas warned.

She made an appeasing gesture and moved closer to Fermín and Daniel. “Unfortunately, it’s not a simple one.”

“Try us. We’re far less stupid than we look. I speak for myself, because my friend here, Daniel, may be still struggling with some growing pains.”

“Let her speak, Fermín,” Daniel snapped.

“I’ve seen less poisonous tongues in the cobras they keep in the zoo.”

“Why don’t we get out of here first,” Alicia proposed, “and go somewhere where we can talk calmly?”

Vargas muttered under his breath, clearly disapproving.

“How do we know it’s not a trap?” asked Fermín.

“Because I’ll let you choose the place,” said Alicia.

Daniel and Fermín swapped glances.

* * *

They walked across the garden and returned to the taxi to find Cipriano at the mercy of a dark cloud of tobacco and a momentous radio chat show pounding on about questions of vital concern to the public: the soccer league and the potential impact of Kubala’s left-foot bunion in the run-up to the Madrid-Barcelona match the next Sunday. Size dictated that Vargas should sit in the passenger seat and the other three squeeze together, as best they could, in the back seat.

“Weren’t there just two of you?” asked the driver, wondering, perhaps, whether he hadn’t smoked one too many Celtas.