Robert Wilson - The Silent and the Damned aka The Vanished Hands

'How about giving me some advice, as an impartial observer?'

'Don't make me drink too much whisky,' he said. 'It doesn't mix with the drugs.'

Falcón told him everything about the cover-up: the Montes finca, the dead bodies up in the sierra, the arsonists, the tape – both the original and the copy upstairs. Guzmán listened and nodded throughout as if this was stuff that came to his ears every day.

'What do you want from all this?' said Guzmán. 'What's your minimum requirement?'

'To put Ignacio Ortega away for a very long time.'

'That's understandable. He sounds like a very nasty piece of work.'

'Do you think I'm being too narrow-minded?' said Falcón. 'Should I be gunning for our hallowed institutions?'

'That's the whisky talking,' said Guzmán. 'You haven't got a chance. Concentrate on Ortega.'

'He seems to be well protected by his connections.'

'So, how do you weaken that protection to get at him?'

'I don't know.'

'Well, that's your training. You're trained to think within the limits of the law,' said Guzmán, putting down his empty whisky glass. 'I'm going now before it's too late.'

'And you're not going to tell me?'

'It wouldn't be right for me to tell you. I don't want that responsibility,' said Guzmán. 'The answer's in front of you, but I don't want to be the one to infect your mind.'

Thursday, 1st August 2002

'Bad night?' asked Ramírez, looking out over the Jefatura car park.

'Bad dreams. Bad night,' said Falcón. 'I lay awake fantasizing about nailing the Russians.'

'Tell me.'

'I thought I'd go to Ignacio Ortega and ask to be put on the Russian payroll. Tell him I liked the look of the hundred and eighty thousand euros Sra Montes was caught with.'

'Was it that much?'

'That's what Lobo told me,' said Falcón. 'I could spin Ortega some line – that I could be the guy running the Grupo de Menores while they find a suitable replacement for Montes…'

'That would never happen for a start,' said Ramírez.

'Then I'd persuade him to set up a meeting with the Russians.'

'And he'd believe you?'

'Well no, but he'd do it anyway and then I'd find out where the meeting was to take place and secretly let you know.'

'I'm not even sure that this fantasy is B-movie quality.'

'The meeting would take place in a garage in the middle of nowhere. I'd be with Ortega. We'd be sitting around an oil drum waiting for the Russians. We'd hear a car coming from some way off. Then Ivanov and Zelenov would arrive. They'd give me a very ugly interview in which it was clear they didn't believe a word I was saying. And just when they'd got to the point of laughing at me, the garage door would crack open and you'd come in and blow them all away.'

'My kids could think of something better than that.'

'Maybe instead of you coming in blasting away we could think of something more subtle. The garage door would still crack open. It always does that. But you'd only cover them with your gun. I'd disarm them. Then the shutter to the main entrance of the garage would roll up and there would be police cars, with flashing lights – that's another thing that always happens. One of the police cars would reverse in. The Russians would be cuffed and, as they were being put into the car, they would turn to see us slapping Ortega on the back, shaking his hand, and they'd think that they'd been served up. By the time they reached the Jefatura the defence lawyer would already be there. The same one from the tape in Montes's finca. They'd be out in four hours. Then cut to Ortega's house. Ignacio sitting at his desk, listening to Julio Iglesias on his perfect sound system, eyes closed until an alien sound opens them and… the horror. Two silenced shots. Blood flowers on his white shirt and his face is ruined.'

'The audience would be drinking beers before the credits rolled,' said Ramírez.

Ferrera put her head round the door to say good morning.

'Let's have a talk,' said Falcón.

Ferrera backed into the outer office. Ramírez went to close the door.

'You too, Policía Ferrera,' said Falcón, and Ramírez narrowed his eyes at him. 'Close the door behind you.'

They sat around the desk.

'We're the voices of experience here,' said Falcón. 'And you, Policía Ferrera, are the voice of morality.'

'Is that in my role as ex-nun?'

'You're in,' said Ramírez. 'That's all that matters. So shut up and listen.'

'I think you've realized by now that there's a cover- up going on,' said Falcón. 'The crimes committed at the Montes finca are being covered up from both ends. Because of Montes's involvement, the Jefatura is vulnerable to attack from the politicians. There is fear amongst our masters that a major scandal, involving a number of figures from public life, may cause a collapse of faith, and they are determined to maintain the dignity and integrity of their institutions. The three of us know that what went on in the Montes finca was wrong and that the perpetrators should face justice and public shaming. Comisario Lobo has told me that everything that has happened at the finca will be documented. He has been unable to guarantee that any of it will be heard. He has only been able to assuage my sense of outrage by assuring me that no one involved in what went on in that finca will get away scot free. They will suffer loss of position, status and wealth.'

'I'm crying for them already,' said Ramírez. 'What about the media?'

'Virgilio Guzmán said they wouldn't touch it unless somebody else broke the story first,' said Falcón. 'He's ill and has had to go on medication.'

'What did I tell you about that guy?' said Ramírez.

'The Russians are untouchable. They've pulled their money out of the Vega projects. They've threatened Vázquez's family. Our only access to them is through Ignacio Ortega, and he isn't about to pass on our card. We have no physical evidence, even of their money- laundering operations, which is presentable in court. We couldn't justify arresting them even if we could get to them.'

'What chance have we got of taking Ortega down?' asked Ramírez.

'He is protected. That's how he survives. As we've seen from his secret filming in the finca, he has the dirt on everybody. That's why we've been cut off from all forensic information and everything has to be directed through Comisario Elvira. All we have now is the tape.'

'What tape?' asked Ferrera.

'The arsonists stole a television and video from the finca before they torched it. The video recorder was loaded with a tape which shows four men having sex with minors,' said Falcón. 'The original is with Elvira. We have retained a copy.'

'What about the Madrid newspapers?' asked Ramírez.

'That's a possibility, but we would have to give them the whole story and it would all have to be backed up with information we don't have access to. There would be no question of anonymity. We would be seen as having broken ranks with the Jefatura and we'd be out on our own, probably facing the end of our careers. There's also a lot that's unpredictable in using the media, even our own here. You put people with their backs to the wall and they will fight dirty. We could all end up getting hurt – your families too – and we still might not get the result we're looking for.'

'Let's send a copy each to their wives and get on with our lives,' said Ramírez.

'But we still wouldn't take Ortega down,' said Falcón.

Silence for some time, broken only by the metronome of Ramírez's huge finger thumping up and down on the edge of the desk.

'Something that would give me a lot of pleasure,' said Ramírez, looking up at the ceiling as if for divine inspiration, 'would be to give my old friend from the barrio a private showing of his part of the tape. That would mean I'd get to see his face, and then I would tell him that there was nothing I could do about it, but that he could have words with Ignacio Ortega.'