“Of course,” said Alicia, in such a meek and angelic voice that it earned her a gentle kick from Leandro under the table. “We’re at your disposal to assist you in all we can.”

Gil de Partera went on observing her with that poisoned mixture of suspicion and desire that her presence usually elicited in gentlemen of a certain age. What Leandro always referred to as the perfume of her presence, or the side effects of her looks, was, in her mentor’s opinion, a double-edged sword she hadn’t yet learned to wield with absolute precision. In this case, and judging by the clear discomfort Gil de Partera seemed to feel in her proximity, Alicia was convinced that the blade would turn against her. Here comes the offensive, she thought.

“Do you know anything about hunting, Señorita Gris?” he asked.

She hesitated for an instant as she searched for her mentor’s eyes.

“Alicia is essentially an urban creature,” Leandro intervened.

“One learns a lot from hunting,” lectured the director. “I’ve had the privilege of sharing a few hunts with the Generalissimo, and it was he who showed me the fundamental rule all hunters must adopt.”

Alicia nodded repeatedly, as if she found it all fascinating. Leandro, meanwhile, had smeared jam over a piece of toast and handed it to her. Alicia accepted it almost without noticing.

The director was still caught up in his lecture. “A hunter has to understand,” he said, “that at a critical moment in the hunt, the role of the prey and that of the hunter become confused. The hunt, the real hunt, is a duel between equals. You don’t know who you really are until you shed blood.”

There was a pause, and after a few seconds of theatrical silence demanding deep reflection on what had just been revealed to her, Alicia put on a respectful expression. “Is that also a maxim of the Generalissimo?”

Leandro gave her a warning stamp on the foot under the table.

“I’ll be frank, young lady,” the director said. “I don’t like you. I don’t like what I’ve heard about you, and neither do I like your tone or the fact that you think you can keep me waiting for half the morning, as if your crappy time were more valuable than mine. I don’t like the way you look at people, and even less the sarcastic tone with which you address your superiors. Because if there’s one thing that pisses me off in this life, it’s people who don’t know their place in the world. And what pisses me off even more is having to remind them.”

Alicia looked down submissively. The temperature in the dining hall seemed to have plunged ten degrees at a stroke.

“I beg you to forgive me, sir, if I—”

“Don’t interrupt me. If I’m here talking to you, it’s because of the trust I have in your superior, who for some reason that escapes me thinks you’re the right person for the job I need to entrust him with. But don’t make any mistakes with me: from this very moment you’re answerable to me. And I don’t have the patience or the generous disposition of Señor Montalvo here.”