“Who is it?”

“Her name was Alicia Gris.”

“Was? Is she dead?”

“Yes, although she doesn’t know it yet,” Hendaya replied, putting away the snapshot.

“May I keep it?”

Hendaya raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t think you were sentimental.”

“Please.”

“You miss female company, eh?” Hendaya smiled magnanimously, then, with a sneer, threw the photograph inside the cell. “All yours. I must say, she’s a real stunner in her own way. Now you’ll be able to look at her every night and jerk off with both hands. Sorry, with one.”

Valls looked at him blankly.

“Keep behaving yourself and piling up those points. I’ll keep a hollow-point bullet for you as a farewell gift, a reward for all the services you’ve offered the fatherland.”

Valls waited until Hendaya had disappeared up the stairs before kneeling down to pick up the photograph.

17

Ariadna knew this was the day she was going to die. She knew the moment she woke up in the suite of the Gran Hotel Palace and opened her eyes to discover that one of Leandro’s minions had left a parcel on the desk while she was asleep. It was tied with a ribbon. She pulled aside the sheets and staggered to the table. It was a large white box with the word pertegaz inscribed on it in gold letters. Beneath the ribbon was an envelope with her name handwritten on it. When she opened it, she found a large card:

Dear Ariadna,

Today is the day when you can finally be reunited with your sister. I thought you’d like to look your best and celebrate that at last justice will be done, and you’ll never again have to fear anything or anyone. I hope you like it, I chose it personally for you.

Yours,

Leandro

Ariadna caressed the edges of the box before opening it. For a second she imagined a poisonous snake creeping up its side, ready to leap onto her neck the moment she lifted the lid. The inside was covered with soft tissue paper. She removed the first layer and found a complete set of underwear in white silk, stockings included. Beneath the underwear was an ivory-colored wool dress, with shoes and a bag to match. And a scarf. Leandro was sending her to her death dressed as a virgin.

She washed herself on her own, with no help from the nurses. Then she slowly put on the garments Leandro had chosen for the last day of her life and looked at herself in the mirror. All she needed was the white coffin and the crucifix in her hands. She sat down to wait, wondering how many white virgins had been purified in that luxurious cell before her, how many luxury Pertegaz boxes Leandro had ordered to say good-bye to his damsels with a kiss on their forehead.

She didn’t have to wait long. Barely half an hour later she heard the sound of the key slipping into the lock. The mechanism gave way softly, and the kind doctor, with his friendly face of the trusted family surgeon, poked his head around the door with that docile, compassionate smile that always accompanied him, like his bagful of wonders.