Jaume Cabré - Winter Journey

While One was tasting the wine-magnificent, well preserved, well aged-he saw something he didn't like at all. Zero was coming into the dining room with an unknown woman. That wasn't in the program. Zero was supposed to have supper in the hotel and then go right to bed, because the money contact was scheduled for early the next morning. But he was such a smart guy that… Oh, and the way they moved and talked, it looked like it wasn't the first time they'd seen one another. So Zero had a lover in Barcelona. Or maybe she was… One had understood that Zero had a wife in Paris. She probably saw her lover every time Zero was away making contacts. He noticed that he was still carrying the briefcase, even now.

"How about that table?" Zero gestured with his free hand.

"Perfect." The woman walked over to it, politely acknowledged a man at the next table who was working away at a big steak, and waited for Zero to pull out her chair. One, who'd observed every detail, concluded that she was a working girl. The couple sat down, the waiter moved into position with the menus, and before they started to look at them, she pointed to the handcuff and the briefcase that was supposed to kill him.

"What's that? An engagement bracelet?"

"No." He looked around, his glance passing over One and Two, and signalled to the maitre d' as he turned to the woman. "Shall we go ahead and order wine, Mary?"

"Katty."

When the maitre d' came over, Zero smiled at him. "Bring us some red wine. The best one you've got."

"An 1864, for example?"

The maitre d', when Zero couldn't see him, winked at the woman and moved away shaking his head: he couldn't believe it. The woman kept at him.

"Why are you carrying it like that, attached?"

"Secret formulas."

"Wow. So you're a spy?"

"No, the opposite: 1 don't want to be spied on." To make her shut up, "Perfume."

"And we're supposed to go to bed with that?"

Zero laughed. He liked the joke. This was the first time he was doing things a different way. Usually he waited to screw until the job was done, but because this time he had to hurry off, he wanted to do things backwards. For supper, they had a good wine and a little something to eat.

IV (2)

At the hour when dogs take their owners out for a walk, One went back to his hotel, after making sure that Zero had gone to his room to perform an uncomfortable menage a trois with the woman and the briefcase, and Two resisted the temptation to follow him and went up to his room. In the hall on the tenth floor, the maid for that floor, her cart full of those little details that make it a pleasure to stay at our hotel, gave him a professional smile highlighted by an anachronistic gold tooth, and went on her way. Two let his mind wander for half an hour, looking out the window at the lights and more lights from the nighttime traffic on the Rambla de Catalunya and thinking that being a hit man wasn't so bad if they paid you this much and you had to perform just a few times a year. And he was always covered, especially if he worked for the enigmatic Three, who had things taken care of before they even happened. He didn't recognize One as the man with the moustache who was slouching along in front of the movie theater. It was too far to be able to make him out. Nor did One, who was now heading back to his hotel, look up to see if Two was looking at him, because he didn't know he existed, any more than Three knew he was called Three, because if he knew that, then he might have guessed at the presence of Two, who was now a shadow in the window that looked at him without seeing. Another thing Two didn't know was that there, in his own hotel, Zero, who hadn't been informed that he was now a widower and the father of a dead child, was hard at it with a woman and a briefcase, and that Zero was nothing more than his victim's victim and so a victim of himself, just as my friends' friends are friends of mine.

V (1)

The payment was made in the chosen place, the lookout on Tibidabo. One watched as Zero, still attached to the briefcase, opened it with the secret combination, put the packet handed to him by an unknown man inside and headed for the phone booth conveniently hidden by bushes, paying no attention to the earlymorning panorama of Barcelona swarming below him. One had to wait for Zero to make the call, also unexpected, before going after him.

"No, connect me with room 439!" yelled Zero, irritated by the ineptitude of the operator at the clinic.

"Who's calling, please?"

"What?"

"Who's calling?"

He hesitated for a moment and then gave his name and added that he was the husband of his son's mother. He thought it was odd that the operator covered the receiver and said something unintelligible to somebody. And then, as if she were following instructions:

"Where are you calling from, sir?"

"Why do you care?"

The hesitation that followed gave him a very bad feeling. The operator, in a poker voice: "Please hold. The Director is going to take your call."

He didn't hang up because it was impossible for them to trace the call in Paris. But he could smell that something was rotten. He couldn't smell that, behind him, One was opening the door of the phone booth, bringing the silencer up to his ear, and poc! making the family complete and forcing his resignation with characteristic professionalism. From the dangling receiver One could hear the cries of the Director, who was saying Allo, allo, monsieur? unaware that monsieur was now ex-monsieur. One let the body slide to the ground, took a look at the secret combination and showed with a quick manipulation that it wasn't so secret. In the inside compartment, nine hundred fifty thousand francs in a packet and a stamped envelope ready to be sent to the Prefecture of Paris. He put these things in his pocket and closed the briefcase carefully. Only twenty-eight seconds had passed since the action began, and the Director was still saying allo, allo into the ears of a cadaver. From that moment on, Zero was zero, and One left, without looking around, following instructions, to go back to the crummy hostel he'd been assigned, to wait for somebody to knock on the door, come in, kill him, and take the two envelopes. In fact, at that moment, somebody had put the address of the hostel and the number of One's room in the slot with Two's key.

VI (2)

There were two soft taps, and One said Entrez! in French without thinking. He was curious to know who his contact was, and he was especially eager to get the francs that made up his generous salary. He got off the bed and had time to see that whoever it was couldn't get in because the door was locked. He went to open it and had time to see that Two, who he didn't know was Two, was smiling and gesturing to be let in.

"I'm Charles Beaudelaire," he said

One took off the chain and Two, after coming in and shutting the door, stood there waiting. One understood, went over to his suitcase and took out the two envelopes.

"Do you have a cigarette?" he asked.

Two said, Yeah, sure, took out a half-empty pack and offered his victim a cigarette. He even lit it for him. While One was enjoying the last few puffs of his life, Two ripped the two envelopes open, which One didn't think was right, and looked at what was in them. He made a face that meant Yes, that's fine, put his hand in his pocket, took out the pistol and made it go poc! even cleaner than the way One had done it. What a waste of a cigarette.

VII (3)

He was getting to the end. While he was handing over the new packet with the money and the secrets and the new address, also in Paris, to the hotel mail service, he made a quick assessment of the desk clerk, who was older than the ones at the main desk. He whispered his request into his ear and the man nodded his head: taken care of, he meant. Just wait in your room. Two felt a prickling of desire as he went up to wait, and he stretched out on the bed, as One had done while waiting for someone to kill him. To fill the time, he felt around in his shirt pocket. The last cigarette. He wondered if he should run out and buy some or… No. And he lit it and told himself he'd better enjoy it because he didn't know when he was going to be able to go out and buy more. He heard the knock, and to tempt fate a little he said, Entrez! because the door wasn't locked. Damn. What a drag. It was the maid, who showed her gold tooth and pointed to the minibar: