Vargas hesitated. “Much worse,” the policeman agreed at last.

“Right. And that two-legged piece of excrement, Valls, is he still alive or is he pushing up poisoned daisies by now?”

Vargas, who seemed suddenly overcome with the exhaustion of the last few days, looked at Fermín with an expression of defeat.

“That, my friend, I think is the least of our worries now . . .”

15

Daniel’s figure was outlined in the distance, a shadow sheltering under the streetlamps of the Raval quarter. Alicia quickened her pace as much as she could. Soon the soreness in her hip returned. She struggled to shorten the distance separating her from Daniel, breathing with difficulty, a sharp pain searing through her bones.

When Daniel reached the Ramblas, he turned around and saw her. He threw her an angry look.

“Daniel, please, wait for me,” called Alicia, holding on to a streetlamp.

Ignoring her, he set off again at a brisk pace. Alicia somehow managed to drag herself after him. Sweat covered her forehead, and the whole of her side was now an open wound aflame.

At the corner of Calle Santa Ana, Daniel looked over his shoulder. Alicia was still there, limping in a way that disconcerted him. He paused to watch her for a moment and saw her lifting a hand, trying to catch his attention. Daniel shook his head and mumbled under his breath. He was about to give up and go home when he saw her fall, as if something had broken inside her. He waited a few seconds, but Alicia didn’t get up. He hesitated, then walked toward her as she writhed on the ground. Her face under the streetlamp was drenched in sweat, and she was grimacing with pain. He felt the urge to leave her there to her fate, but drew a bit closer and knelt down beside her. Alicia was gazing at him, her face covered in tears.

“Are you playacting?” asked Daniel.

She stretched a hand out to him, and he helped her up. Her body shook with pain under his hands, and he felt a hint of remorse. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s an old wound,” Alicia said, panting. “I need to sit down, please.”

Holding her by the waist, Daniel led her to a café at the start of Calle Santa Ana that always closed late. The waiter knew him, and Daniel was sure that the following day the entire neighborhood would be served with an exhaustively detailed account of his arrival there on the verge of midnight with a young lady of shadowy charms in his arms. He guided Alicia to a table by the entrance and helped her sit down.

“Water,” she whispered.

Daniel went up to the bar and spoke to the waiter. “Give me a bottle of water, Manuel.”

“Just a bottle of water?” asked the man, winking knowingly.

Daniel didn’t venture into detail. He returned to the table with a bottle of water and a glass. Alicia was holding a metal pillbox in her hand and trying to open it. He took it and opened it for her. She took two pills and swallowed them with a gulp of water, which dribbled down her chin and throat. Daniel was looking at her anxiously, not knowing what else to do.