Linares bit his tongue, then said, “I’m not going to accept that. Not from you, nor from anyone else.”

“You’ve had a good run, Linares. Let’s not fool ourselves. You haven’t gotten where you have by playing the hero. Heroes don’t make it to the end. Don’t do anything silly now, two minutes away from a golden retirement. Times are changing. And you know I’m saying this for your own good.”

Linares shot him a look of contempt. “What I know is that you’re a son of a bitch, and I couldn’t give a shit who you’re working for. This isn’t going to stop here. Call whoever you need to call.”

Hendaya shrugged, and Linares turned around and headed for the exit.

Hendaya caught the eye of one of his men and nodded. The policeman set off behind Linares. The other one came over, and Hendaya gave him a questioning look. “Any signs of that whore?”

“There was only one body in the workshop. Not a sign of her. We’ve been through the apartment on the other side of this street. Nothing. None of the neighbors have seen her, and the caretaker assures me that the last time she saw her was yesterday, when she was going out.”

“Is she telling the truth?”

“I think so, but if you like, we can soften her up a bit.”

“That won’t be necessary. Comb the hospitals and first-aid clinics. If she’s in one of them, she will have given a false name. She can’t be very far.”

“What if they call from Madrid?”

“Not a word until we find her. Let’s make as little noise as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

35

It was the best dream she’d ever had.

Alicia woke up in a room with white walls that smelled of camphor. A distant murmur of voices rose and fell in a tide of whispers. The first thing she noticed was the absence of pain. For the first time in twenty years, she wasn’t suffering. The pain had vanished completely, taking with it that world she’d inhabited almost all her life. In its place she found a space where light traveled through the air like a dense liquid, colliding with specks of dust that floated in the atmosphere, forming iridescent sparks.

Alicia laughed. She could breathe and feel her body resting. There was no more agony in her bones, and her spirit was rid of that biting metal clamp that had always imprisoned her. The face of an angel leaned over her and looked into her eyes. The angel was very tall; he wore a white coat, and had no wings. He barely had any hair either, but he carried a hypodermic syringe, and when she asked him whether she was dead, and whether this was hell, the angel smiled and said it depended how one looked at it, but she shouldn’t worry. She felt a small prick, and a torrent of liquid happiness spread through her veins, leaving a warm trail of peace.