Carlos Zafón - The Angel's Game

‘Martín? Are you all right? Are you in Barcelona?’

‘I’ve just arrived.’

‘You must be careful. The police are looking for you. They came round here asking questions about you and Alicia Marlasca.’

‘Víctor Grandes?’

‘I think so. He came with a couple of big guys I didn’t like the look of. I think he wants to dump the deaths of Roures and Marlasca’s widow on you. You’d better keep your eyes peeled – they’re probably watching you. If you like, you could come here.’

‘Thanks, Señor Salvador. I’ll think about it. I don’t want to get you into any more trouble.’

‘Whatever you do, watch out. I think you were right: Jaco is back. I don’t know why, but he’s back. Do you have a plan?’

‘I’m going to try to find Valera, the lawyer. I think the publisher for whom Marlasca worked is at the heart of all this, and I think Valera is the only person who knows the truth.’

Salvador paused for a moment.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

‘I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll call you once I’ve spoken to Valera.’

‘As you wish. Are you armed?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’

‘Señor Salvador… Roures spoke to me about a woman in the Somorrostro area whom Marlasca had consulted. Someone he had met through Irene Sabino.’

‘The Witch of Somorrostro.’

‘What do you know about her?’

‘There isn’t much to know. I don’t think she even exists, the same as this mysterious publisher. What you need to worry about is Jaco and the police.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘Call me as soon as you know anything, will you?’

‘I will. Thanks.’

I hung up and as I passed the bar I left a few coins to cover the calls and the glass of brandy, which was still there, untouched.

Twenty minutes later I was standing outside number 442, Avenida Diagonal, looking up at the lights that were on in Valera’s office, at the top of the building. The porter’s lodge was closed, but I banged on the door until the porter peered out and came over with a distinctly unfriendly expression on his face. As soon as he’d opened the door a little to get rid of me, I gave it a push and slipped into the hallway, ignoring his protests. I went straight to the lift. The porter tried to stop me by grabbing hold of my arm, but I threw him a poisonous look that quickly dissuaded him.

When Valera’s secretary opened the door, her expression rapidly changed from surprise to fear, especially when I stuck my foot in the gap to make sure she didn’t slam the door in my face and went in without being invited.

‘Let the lawyer know I’m here,’ I said. ‘Now.’

The secretary looked at me, her face completely white.

I took her by the elbow and pushed her into the lawyer’s office. The lights were on, but there was no trace of Valera. The terrified secretary sobbed, and I realised that I was digging my fingers into her arm. I let go and she retreated a few steps. She was shaking. I sighed and tried to make some sort of calming gesture that only served to reveal the gun tucked into the waistband of my trousers.

‘Please, Señor Martín… I swear that Señor Valera isn’t here.’

‘I believe you. Calm down. I only want to talk to him. That’s all.’

The secretary nodded. I smiled at her.

‘Please be so kind as to pick up the telephone and call him at home,’ I said firmly.

The secretary lifted the receiver and murmured the lawyer’s number to the operator. When she got a reply she handed me the phone.

‘Good evening,’ I ventured.

‘Martín, what an unfortunate surprise,’ said Valera at the other end of the line. ‘May I know what you’re doing in my office at this time of night, aside from terrorising my employees?’

‘My apologies for any trouble I may be causing, Señor Valera, but I urgently need to locate your client, Señor Andreas Corelli, and you’re the only person who can help me.’

A long silence.

‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Señor Martín. I cannot help you.’

‘I was hoping to resolve this amicably, Señor Valera.’

‘You don’t understand, Martín. I don’t know Señor Corelli.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I’ve never seen him or spoken to him, and I certainly don’t know where to find him.’

‘Let me remind you that he hired you to get me out of police headquarters.’

‘A couple of weeks before that, we received a cheque with a letter explaining that you were an associate of his, that Inspector Grandes was harassing you and that we should take care of your defence if it became necessary to do so. With the letter came the envelope that he asked us to hand to you personally. All I did was pay in the cheque and ask my contact at police headquarters to let me know if you were ever taken there. That’s what happened, and you’ll remember that I got you out by threatening Grandes with a whole storm of trouble if he didn’t agree to expedite your release. I don’t think you can complain about our services.’

At that point the silence was mine.

‘If you don’t believe me, ask Señorita Margarita to show you the letter,’ Valera added.

‘What about your father?’ I asked.

‘My father?’

‘Your father and Marlasca had dealings with Corelli. He must have known something…’

‘I can assure you that my father was never directly in touch with this Señor Corelli. All his correspondence, if indeed there was any – because there is absolutely nothing in the files at the office – was dealt with personally by the deceased Señor Marlasca. In fact, and since you ask, I can tell you that my father even doubted the existence of this Señor Corelli, especially during the final months of Señor Marlasca’s life, when he began to – how shall I say it – have contact with that woman.’

‘What woman?’

‘The chorus girl.’

‘Irene Sabino?’

I heard him give an irritated sigh.

‘Before he died, Señor Marlasca arranged a fund, administered and managed by our firm, from which a series of payments were to be made to an account in the names of Juan Corbera and María Antonia Sanahuja.’

Jaco and Irene Sabino, I thought.

‘What was the size of the fund?’

‘It was a deposit in foreign currency. I seem to remember it was something like a hundred thousand French francs.’

‘Did Marlasca say where he’d obtained that money?’

‘We’re a law firm, not a detective agency. Our company merely followed the instructions stipulated in Señor Marlasca’s last wishes, we did not question them.’

‘What other instructions did he leave?’

‘Nothing special. Simple payments to third parties that had nothing to do with the office or with his family.’

‘Do you remember any one in particular?’

‘My father took charge of these matters himself, to avoid any of the office employees having access to information that might be, let us say, awkward.’

‘And didn’t your father find it odd that his ex-partner should wish to hand over that sum of money to strangers?’

‘Of course he thought it was odd. A lot of things seemed odd to him.’

‘Do you remember where those payments were sent?’

‘How could I possibly remember? It must have been twenty-five years ago.’

‘Make an effort,’ I said. ‘For Señorita Margarita’s sake.’

The secretary gave me a terrified look, to which I responded with a wink.

‘Don’t you dare lay a finger on her,’ Valera threatened.

‘Don’t give me ideas,’ I cut in. ‘How’s your memory? Is it refreshed?’

‘I could have a look at my father’s private diaries.’

‘Where are they?’

‘Here, among his papers. But it will take a few hours…’