“Where is she?” he asked the keeper in a whisper.

“Where’s who?”

Hendaya hit Isaac’s face with the revolver and heard the crunch of a bone. The keeper fell on his knees and then collapsed on one side, groaning. Hendaya crouched down, grabbed him by his neck, and yanked at him. “Where is she?” he repeated.

The old man’s nose was bleeding profusely. Hendaya placed the barrel of his weapon under his chin and looked him in the eye. Isaac spat in his face.

A brave one, thought Hendaya. “Come on, Granddad, let’s not make a scene now, you’re a bit over the hill to act the hero. Where’s Alicia Gris?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hendaya smiled. “Do you want me to break your legs, Grandpa? At your age a broken thigh bone doesn’t mend . . .”

Isaac kept his lips sealed. Hendaya held him by the nape and dragged him inside. They walked through a wide, curved gallery behind which he sensed a fleeting brightness. The walls were covered with frescoes depicting fantastic scenes. Hendaya wondered what sort of a place this was. When they reached the end of the corridor, he found himself facing a gigantic vaulted hall that seemed to rise to the heavens. The sight made him lower his revolver and let Isaac fall like a dead weight.

It looked like an apparition, a dreamlike vision floating on a cloud of spectral light. A vast labyrinth swirling around itself grew into an uprising of tunnels, walkways, arches, and bridges. The structure seemed to sprout from the very ground, scaling an inconceivable geometry, until it scratched the large opaque-glass dome crowning the vault.

Hendaya smiled to himself. Hidden in the shadows of an old Barcelona palace was a forbidden city of books and words that he would set fire to after chopping beautiful Alicia Gris up into little bits. This was his lucky day.

* * *

Isaac was dragging himself along the floor, leaving a trail of blood. He wanted to call out, but all he could produce was a moan, and he could barely keep himself conscious. He heard the man’s footsteps approaching again and felt his foot between his shoulders, pressing him down on the floor.

“Steady there, Grandpa.”

Hendaya grabbed Isaac’s wrist and lugged him to one of the columns supporting the vaulted ceiling. A trio of narrow pipes ran down the column, fastened to the stone with metal hooks. Hendaya pulled out a pair of handcuffs, attached one handcuff to one of the pipes, and closed the other around Isaac’s wrist until he felt it biting into the skin.

Isaac let out a muffled scream. “Alicia’s gone,” he panted. “You’re wasting your time . . .”

Hendaya ignored the old man and scanned the shadows. Candlelight glowed behind a doorframe in a corner. The policeman held his gun with both hands and edged his way toward the door, keeping close to the wall. The anxiety in the old man’s eyes confirmed that he was on the right track.