Robert Wilson - The Hidden Assassins

'Well, not quite the Holy Grail,' said Juan, 'but worthy of something.'

'Moroccans love mystery,' said Falcon. 'Abdullah Diouri was a very devout Muslim and Yacoub later told me that the Fes household was kept in that state in honour of the great man. None of the sons could stand the place, which was why it was so run down, and it had been given over exclusively to the women of the family.'

'So you had an address in Rabat…' said Pablo.

'I stayed the night in Meknes and called Yacoub from there. He already knew who I was and what I wanted, and we agreed to meet in his house in Rabat the next day. As you probably know, he lives in a huge modern place, built in the Arab style, in the embassy zone on the edge of the city. There must be two hectares of land with an orange grove, gardens, tennis courts, swimming pools-a small palace. He has liveried servants, rose petals in the fountains-that kind of thing. I was taken to a huge room overlooking one of the swimming pools, with cream leather sofas all around. I was given some mint tea and left to stew for half an hour until Yacoub turned up.'

'Did he look like Raul?'

'I'd seen shots of Raul when he was a younger man in Tangier and less battered by life. There were similarities, but Yacoub is a different animal altogether. Raul's wealth never managed to get rid of the Andaluz peasant, whereas Yacoub is a very sophisticated individual, well-read in Spanish, French and English. He speaks German, too. His business demands it. He makes clothes for all the major manufacturers in Europe. He's got Dior and Adolfo Dominguez on his client list. Yacoub was a cheetah to Raul's gnarled old lion.'

'So how did that first meeting go?' asked Pablo.

'We hit it off immediately, which doesn't happen to me very often,' said Falcon. 'These days I seem to find it hard to get on with people of my own class and background, while I seem to have a talent for engaging with misfits.'

'Why's that?' asked Juan.

'I suppose living with my own horrors has given me the ability to understand the complexities of others, or, at least, not to take things at face value,' said Falcon. 'Whatever, Yacoub and I became friends in that first meeting, and, although we don't see very much of each other, we still are. In fact, he called me last night to say he wanted to meet in Madrid at the weekend.'

'Did Yacoub know your story?'

'He'd read it in the press at the time of the Francisco Falcon scandal. It was big news over there that the famous Falcon nudes were actually painted by the Moroccan artist, Tariq Chefchaouni.'

'I'm surprised some journalist hadn't tried to track him down before,' said Pablo.

'They had,' said Falcon. 'But they didn't get any further than the outside of Abdullah Diouri's house in Fes.'

'You said Yacoub was a misfit,' said Gregorio. 'He doesn't sound like one. Successful businessman, married, two children, devout Muslim. He seems to fit in perfectly.'

'Well, that's how it looks from the outside, but from the moment I first met him I knew he was restless,' said Falcon. 'He was happy with where he was and yet he felt he didn't belong there. He'd been torn away from his own family and yet Abdullah Diouri had made him a part of his and given him the family name. His real father had never come to search for him and yet he was treated no differently to Diouri's own sons. He told me once that he didn't just respect his kidnapper, Abdullah Diouri, he loved him as a father. But despite this acceptance from his new family, he never lost that terrible feeling of having been abandoned by his own. That's what I call a misfit.'

'You say he's married,' said Pablo. 'How many wives does he have?'

'Just the one.'

'Isn't that unusual for a man such as Yacoub Diouri?' asked Juan.

'Why don't you just ask your question to my face instead of wheedling-'

'Because we're interested in the extent of your relationship with Yacoub. If he's told you intimate details about himself, then that has meaning for us,' said Juan.

'Yacoub Diouri is homosexual,' said Falcon, wearily. 'His marriage is something that is expected of him by his society. It is part of his duty as a good Muslim to take a wife and have children, but his sexual interest is exclusively with men. And before you let your prurient interest get carried away, I mean men, not boys.'

'Why do you think that detail should be important to us?' asked Juan.

'You're spies, and I just wanted you to know that his homosexuality is not an area of vulnerability.'

'Why are we questioning you about Yacoub Diouri?' asked Juan.

'First I'd like to know how Yacoub came to tell you he was homosexual,' said Pablo.

'Sorry to disappoint you, Pablo, but he didn't make a pass at me,' said Falcon. 'How did you find out about him?'

'There's a lot of cooperation between the intelligence services these days,' said Juan. 'Prominent, devout and monied Muslims are…observed.'

'Yacoub and I were talking about marriage once and I told him that mine hadn't lasted very long, that my wife had left me for a prominent judge,' said Falcon. 'I told him about Consuelo. He told me that his own marriage was just for show and that he was gay and that the fashion industry suited him.'

'Why?'

'Because it was full of attractive men who weren't looking for a permanent relationship which he couldn't offer.'

Silence. Juan let it be known that it was time to move on.

'So what happened after you became friends with Yacoub?' asked Pablo.

'I saw him quite a lot at the beginning, several times over three or four months. I'd started learning Arabic and went down to see my Moroccan family in Tangier whenever I could. Yacoub would invite me over. We talked, he helped me with my Arabic.'

The CNI men drank their beers in unison.

'And what happened with Consuelo?' asked Juan, blowing smoke out into the night air.

'As I explained, I'd already told Yacoub about Consuelo and my interest in her. He was quite happy to come to Seville and try to help me out. He liked the idea of being a go-between.'

'How long was this after you'd split up with Consuelo?'

'Nearly a year.'

'You took your time.'

'You can't rush these things.'

'How did you communicate,' asked Pablo, 'if she wouldn't speak to you?'

'I wrote her a letter and asked her if she'd like to meet Yacoub,' said Falcon. 'She wrote back and said she would very much like to meet him, but it would have to be alone.'

'You never even got to see Consuelo?' said Juan, amazed.

'Yacoub did his best for me. They liked each other. He asked her out to dinner on my behalf. She refused. He offered to play gooseberry. She turned him down. There were no explanations and that was the end of it,' said Falcon. 'Why don't we have another beer and you tell me the purpose of this intrusive and personal examination?'

In the kitchen Falcon caught sight of his transparent reflection in the darkened window. He hadn't revealed himself to that extent since being in the hands of Alicia Aguado more than four years ago. In fact, he hadn't been intimate with anyone other than Yacoub since then. It hadn't exactly been a relief to talk to strangers like that, but it had brought back a powerful resurgence of his feelings for Consuelo. He even saw himself in the reflection of the window unconsciously rubbing the arm that had brushed against her yesterday. He shook his head and opened another litre of beer.

'You're smiling, Javier,' said Juan, as Falcon came back. 'After an ordeal like that, I'm impressed.'

'I'm solitary, but not depressed,' said Falcon.

'That's not bad going for a middle-aged homicide detective,' said Pablo.

'Being a homicide detective isn't such a problem for me. There aren't that many murders in Seville and I crack most of them, so my work with the homicide squad actually gives me the illusion that problems are being resolved. And, as you know, an illusory state can contribute to sensations of well-being,' said Falcon. 'If I were trying to resolve something like global warming, or the oceans' dwindling fish stocks, then I'd probably be in much worse mental shape.'