“That sort of thing. I leave it all to your sound judgment. Is Daniel still there?”

“With his ear glued. Do you want me to send him over to you?”

“No. Tell him to stay put and keep calm. I’ll call you both back when I have some news.”

“We’ll be here.”

“It’s what I always say: if you want things to turn out well, you must put a woman in charge.”

“Stop the flattery, Fermín. I can see you coming a mile off. Anything else?”

“Keep your eyes peeled. It wouldn’t surprise me if the bookshop was being watched.”

“That’s all we needed. Understood. Fermín?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure we can trust this woman?”

“Alicia?”

“If that’s her real name . . .”

“It is.”

“And the rest? Is that also true?”

Fermín sighed. “We’re going to give her a chance. Will you do this for me, Bea?”

“Of course, Fermín. Whatever you say.”

Fermín hung up the phone and went back to the waiting room.

Fernandito watched him anxiously. “Who were you talking to?”

“To common sense.”

Fermín sat down and gazed at the boy. He reminded him so much of Daniel when he was younger that he was even starting to like him. “You’re a good guy, Fernandito. Alicia will be proud of you.”

“If she lives, that is.”

“She’ll live. I’ve already seen her return from among the dead once before, and those who learn the trick never forget it. I speak from experience. To return from the dead is a bit like riding a bike, or unfastening a girl’s bra with a single hand. It’s all a question of getting the knack.”

Fernandito smiled weakly. “And how does one do that?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to ride a bike.”

“I mean undoing a bra with a single hand.”

Fermín patted his knee and winked conspiratorially. “You and I have a lot to talk about . . .”

As luck would have it, before Fermín was able to start Fernandito off on a crash course on the verities of life, the surgeon appeared in the waiting-room doorway and, letting out a long sigh, collapsed, exhausted, on one of the chairs.

33

The surgeon was one of those youngish men who start to lose their hair before their thirties from too much thinking. He was tall and thin, with a profile like a pencil and intelligent eyes that surveyed the scene behind a pair of glasses known in those days as Truman glasses in honor of the trigger-happy American president who dropped atomic bombs the size of school buses on the Empire of the Sun.

“We’ve managed to stabilize her, close the wound, and control the hemorrhage. For the moment there is no infection, but I’ve got her on antibiotics, just as a precaution. The wound was deeper than it seemed. It’s a miracle that it didn’t slice her femoral artery, but the stitches were very complicated, and at first they didn’t hold. They will keep on holding if the inflammation subsides, if there is no infection, and if we’re lucky. Only God knows.”