“But will she pull through, Doctor?”

The surgeon shrugged. “That will depend on what progress she makes in the next forty-eight hours. The patient is young, and her heart is strong. Someone weaker would not have survived the operation, but that doesn’t mean that she’s out of the woods, not by a long stretch. And if there’s an infection . . .”

Fermín nodded, taking in the medical report. The doctor’s eyes were studying him with surgical curiosity. “May I ask how the patient got the wound on her right hip?”

“A childhood accident. During the war.”

“I see. It must cause her terrible pain.”

“She’s very long-suffering, although I must admit that sometimes it affects her character.”

“If she survives this, I could help her. There are new reconstruction procedures that weren’t even known twenty years ago, and they might reduce her pain. Nobody should have to live like that.”

“It will be the first thing I’ll tell Violeta when she wakes up.”

“Violeta?” asked the doctor.

“The patient,” Fermín specified.

The surgeon, who was nobody’s fool, looked sidelong at him. “Look, this is none of my business, and I don’t know what story you’ve foisted on poor old Coll, but someone has beaten this woman brutally and almost killed her. Whoever has—”

“I know,” Fermín cut in. “Believe me, I’m well aware of it. When do you think we can move her out of here?”

The surgeon raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “Move her out of here? At best, the patient has a month of complete rest ahead. Violeta, or whatever her name is, isn’t going anywhere unless you want to arrange a fast-track funeral for her. I’m serious.”

Fermín studied the surgeon’s face. “What about transferring her to another place?”

“It would have to be another hospital. But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Fermín nodded his head gravely. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Not at all. In a couple of hours, if all goes well, we’ll take her up to a room on the main floor. Until then you won’t be able to see her. I’m saying this because you might like to go out and get some fresh air. Or you may have some arrangements to make, if you know what I mean. For the moment, as I say, the patient is stable and the prognosis is moderately optimistic.”

“Moderately?”

The surgeon gave him an ambiguous smile. “If you want my personal opinion, and not that of the surgeon, this young lady doesn’t want to die yet. Some people survive out of pure anger.”

Fermín assented with a quick nod. “Women are like that. They get something into their heads and . . .”

Fermín waited until the surgeon had left them alone before poking his head out into the corridor and survey the situation. Fernandito joined him. Two figures dressed in very unmedical-looking uniforms were advancing slowly from the end of the passage.

“Hey, aren’t those the fuzz?”

“Excuse me?” asked Fernandito.

“Policemen. Don’t you read comic books?”