“As many as pop up within shooting distance. The youth of today who did not live through the war cannot understand it, my friend.”

Vargas nodded, licking his fingers. Alicia, who was watching the show with the detached calm of someone waiting for the rain to die down, signaled to the waiter to bring her a second glass of white wine.

“Doesn’t that go to your head if you don’t throw in something solid?” asked Fermín, mopping up the plate with a piece of bread.

“It doesn’t worry me if it does,” replied Alicia. “So long as it stays up there.”

Once the coffees were on the table, together with a succession of fine liqueurs, Fermín and Vargas leaned back in their chairs with a satisfied expression, and Alicia stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m all ears,” said Fermín.

Alicia leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I’m assuming you both know who the minister Mauricio Valls is.”

“My friend Daniel has heard of him.” Fermín smiled craftily. “I’ve had my brushes with him as well.”

“You will have noticed, then, if you’ve been paying attention, that for some time he’s barely been seen in public.”

“Now you mention it . . . Although the expert here on Valls is Daniel. Whenever he has a spare moment, he goes down to the newspaper library at the Ateneo to investigate the life and miracles of the great man, an old family acquaintance.”

Alicia glanced at Daniel.

“About three weeks ago, Mauricio Valls disappeared from his residence in Somosaguas without leaving a trace. He left at dawn together with his main bodyguard in a car that was found abandoned in Barcelona a few days later. No one has seen him since.”

Alicia studied the turbulent torrent of emotions lighting up Daniel’s eyes.

“The police investigation suggests that Valls may have been the victim of a conspiracy, seeking to avenge some supposed fraudulent deals in connection with a number of bank shares.”

Daniel was looking at her in bewilderment and growing indignation.

“When you say ‘the investigation,’” Fermín intervened, “who are you referring to?”

“The police department, and other law-enforcement agencies.”

“I can see Captain Vargas in that role, but you, quite frankly . . .”

“I work, or rather worked, for one of the services that have given their support to the police in this investigation.”

“And does such service have a name?” asked Fermín skeptically. “Because you don’t look like a member of the Civil Guard’s women’s section.”

“No.”

“I see. And the deceased we’ve just had the pleasure of seeing floating tonight?”

“An old colleague of mine.”

“So I suppose what’s put you off your food is grief—”

“All this is just a load of lies,” Daniel cut in.

“Daniel . . . ,” said Alicia, placing a conciliatory hand on his.

He pulled his hand away and faced her. “What’s all this about you being an old friend of the family, then? Visiting the bookshop, my wife, my son, sneaking into my family?”