The Hidden Assassins

35

Seville-Thursday, 8th June 2006, 23.55 hrs

That's what Flowers had said: 'You don't understand the pressure on these people.' Alone, now, Falcon gripped the arms of his chair in front of the dead computer screen. He'd only had a glimpse of it, but now he understood what Flowers had meant. He sat in his comfortable house, in the heart of one of the least violent cities in Europe and, yes, he had a demanding job, but not one where he had to pretend every day or cope with 'an initiation rite' that might demand 'betrayal'. He didn't have to cohabit with the minds of clear-sighted fanatics who saw God's purpose in the murder of innocents, who, in fact, didn't see them as innocents but as 'culpable by democracy', or the product of 'decadence and godlessness', and therefore fair game. He might have to face a moral choice, but not a life-or-death situation which could result in harm done to Yacoub, his wife and children.

Yacoub knew 'how their minds worked', that they would demand betrayal, because that would sever the relationship. They weren't interested in the low-quality information of a Sevillano detective. They wanted to cut Yacoub off from a relationship that connected him to the outside world. Yacoub had been with the group for twenty-four hours and already they were setting about the imprisonment of his mind.

The mobile vibrating on the desktop made him start.

'Just to let you know,' said Ramirez, 'Arenas, Benito and Cardenas have just left. Rivero, Zarrias and Alarcon are still there. Do we know what we're doing yet?'

'I have to call Elvira before we make a move,' said Falcon. 'What I want is for the two of us to go in there as soon as Rivero is alone and break him down so that he reveals everybody in the whole conspiracy, not just the bit players.'

'Do you know Eduardo Rivero?' asked Ramirez.

'I met him once at a party,' said Falcon. 'He's fantastically vain. Angel Zarrias has been trying to lever him out of the leadership of Fuerza Andalucia for years, but Rivero loved the status it conferred on him.'

'So how did Zarrias get him out?'

'No idea,' said Falcon. 'But Rivero is not a man to hand in his ego lightly.'

'It happened on the day of the bomb, didn't it?'

'That's when they announced it.'

'But it must have been coming for a while,' said Ramirez. 'Zarrias never mentioned anything to you about it?'

'Are you speaking with some inside knowledge, Jose Luis?'

'Some press guys I know were telling me there was talk of a sex scandal around Rivero,' said Ramirez. 'Under-age girls. They've lost interest since the bomb, but they were very suspicious of the handover to Jesus Alarcon.'

'So what's your proposed strategy, Jose Luis?' said Falcon. 'You sound as if you want to make yourself unpopular again?'

'I think I do. I've done a bit of work on Eduardo Rivero and I think that might be the way to make him feel uneasy,' said Ramirez. 'Lull him into a false sense of relief when we move away from the hint of scandal and then give him both barrels in the face with Tateb Hassani.'

'That is your style, Jose Luis.'

'He's the type who'll look down his nose at me,' said Ramirez. 'But because he knows you, and knows your sister is Zarrias's partner, he'll expect you to bring some dignity to the proceedings. He'll turn to you for help. I think he'll be devastated when you show him the shot of Tateb Hassani.'

'We hope.'

'Vain men are weak.'

Falcon called Comisario Elvira and gave him the update. He could almost smell the man's sweat trickling down the phone.

'Are you confident, Javier?' he asked, as if begging Falcon to give him some resolve.

'He's the weakest of the three, the most vulnerable,' said Falcon. 'If we can't break him, we'll struggle to break the others. We can make the evidence against him sound overwhelming.'

'Comisario Lobo thinks it's the best way.'

Falcon pocketed his mobile and a photograph of Tateb Hassani. He used his reflection in the glass doors to the patio to knot his tie. He shrugged into his jacket. He was conscious of his shoes on the marble flagstones of the patio as he made his way to his car. He drove through the night. The silent, lamp-lit streets under the dark trees were almost empty. Ramirez called to tell him that Alarcon had left. Falcon told him to send everybody home except Serrano and Baena, who would follow Zarrias once he'd left.

It was a short drive to Rivero's house and there was parking in the square. He joined Ramirez on the street corner. Serrano and Baena were in an unmarked car opposite Rivero's house.

A taxi came up the street and turned round by Rivero's oak doors. The driver got out and rang the doorbell. Within a minute Angel Zarrias came out and got into the back of the cab, which pulled away. Serrano and Baena waited until it was nearly out of sight and then took off in pursuit. Cristina Ferrera had taken a cab back to her apartment. She was so exhausted she forgot to ask the driver for a receipt. She got her keys out and headed for the entrance to her block. A man sitting on the steps up to the door made her wary. He held up his hands to show her he meant no harm.

'It's me, Fernando,' he said. 'I lost your number, but remembered the address. I came to take you up on your offer of a bed for the night. My daughter, Lourdes, came out of intensive care this evening. She's in a room now with my parents-in-law looking after her. I needed to get out.'

'Have you been waiting long?'

'Since the bomb I don't look at the time,' he said. 'So I don't know.'

They went up to her apartment on the fourth floor.

'You're tired,' he said. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, but I've got nowhere else to go. I mean, nowhere that I'd feel comfortable.'

'It's all right,' she said. 'It's just another long day in a series of long days. I'm used to it.'

'Have you caught them yet?'

'We're close,' she said.

She put her bag on the table in the living room, took off her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. She had a holster with a gun clipped to a belt around her waist.

'Are your kids asleep?' he asked, in a whisper.

'They sleep with my neighbour when I have to work late,' she said.

'I just wanted to see them sleeping, you know…' he said, and fluttered his hand, as if that explained his need for normality.

'They're not quite old enough to be left on their own all night,' she said, and went into the bedroom, unhooked the holster from her belt and put it in the top drawer of the chest. She pulled her blouse out of her waistband.

'Have you eaten?' she asked.

'Don't worry about me.'

'I'm putting a pizza in the microwave.'

Cristina opened some beers and laid the table. She remade the bed with clean sheets in one of the kids' rooms.

'Do your neighbours gossip?'

'Well, you're famous now, so they're bound to talk about you,' said Ferrera. 'They know I used to be a nun so they're not too concerned about my virtue.'

'You used to be a nun?'

'I told you,' she said. 'So what's it like?'

'What?'

'To be famous.'

'I don't understand it,' said Fernando. 'One moment I'm a labourer on a building site and the next I'm the voice of the people and it's nothing to do with me, but because Lourdes survived. Does that make any sense to you?'

'You've become a focus for what happened,' she said, taking the pizza out of the microwave. 'People don't want to listen to politicians, they want to listen to someone who's suffered. Tragedy gives you credibility.'

'There's no logic to it,' he said. 'I say the same things that I've always said in the bar where I go for coffee in the morning, and nobody listened to me then. Now I've got the whole of Spain hanging on my every word.'

'Well, that might change tomorrow,' said Ferrera.

'What might change?'

'Sorry, it's nothing. I can't talk about it. I shouldn't have said anything. Forget I even mentioned it. I'm too tired for this.'

Fernando's eyes narrowed over the slice of pizza halfway to his mouth.

'You're close,' said Fernando. 'That's what you said. Does that mean you know who they are, or you've actually caught them?'

'It means we're close,' she said, shrugging. 'I shouldn't have said it. It's police business. It slipped out because I was tired. I wasn't thinking properly.'

'Just tell me the name of the group,' said Fernando. 'They all have these crazy initials like MIEDO-Martires Islamicos Enfrentados a la Dominacion del Occidente.'

Islamic Martyrs facing up to Western Domination.

'You didn't listen.'

He frowned and replayed the dialogue.

'You mean they weren't terrorists?'

'They were terrorists, but not Islamic ones.'

Fernando shook his head in disbelief.

'I don't know how you can say that.'

Ferrera shrugged.

'I've read all the reports,' said Fernando. 'You found explosives in the back of their van, with the Koran and the Islamic sash and the black hood. They took the explosive into the mosque. The mosque exploded and…'

'That's all true.'

'Then I don't know what you're talking about.'

'That's why you've got to forget about it until it comes out in the news tomorrow.'

'Then why can't you tell me now?' he said. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Because suspects still have to be interrogated.'

'What suspects?'

'The people who are suspected of planning the bombing of the mosque.'

'You're just trying to confuse me now.'

'I'll tell you this if you promise me that that will be the end of it,' said Ferrera. 'I know it's important to you, but this is a police investigation and it's totally confidential information.'

'Tell me.'

'Promise me first.'

'I promise,' he said, waving it away with his hand.

'That sounds like a politician's promise.'

'That's what happens when you spend time with them. You learn too much, too quickly,' said Fernando.

'I promise you, Cristina.'

'There was another bomb that was planted in the mosque which, when it exploded, set off the very large quantity of hexogen which the Islamic terrorists were storing there. That's what destroyed your apartment building.'

'And you know who planted the bomb?'

'You promised me that that would be the end of it.'

'I know, but I just need to…I have to know.'

'That's what we're working on tonight.'

'You have to tell me who they are.'

'I can't. There's no discussion. It's not possible. If it came out, I'd lose my job.'

'They killed my wife and son.'

'And if they are responsible, they will face trial.'

Fernando opened up a pack of cigarettes.

'You'll have to go out on the balcony if you want to smoke.'

'Come and sit with me?'

'No more questions?'

'I promise. You're right. I can't do this to you.' Falcon and Ramirez were ringing the bell as Zarrias's taxi turned out of Calle Castelar. Eduardo Rivero opened the door, expecting it to be Angel coming back for the notebook he'd forgotten. He was surprised to find two stone-faced policemen in the frame, presenting their ID cards. His face momentarily lost all definition, as if the muscles had been deprived of their neural drive. Geniality revived them.

'What can I do for you, gentlemen?' he asked, his white moustache doubling the size and warmth of his smile.

'We'd like to talk to you,' said Falcon.

'It's very late,' said Rivero, looking at his watch.

'It can't wait,' said Ramirez.

Rivero looked away from him with faint disgust.

'Have we met?' he asked Falcon. 'You seem familiar.'

'I came to a party here once, some years ago,' said Falcon. 'My sister is Angel Zarrias's partner.'

'Ah, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…Javier Falcon. Of course,' said Rivero. 'Can I ask what you'd like to talk to me about at this time of the morning?'

'We're homicide detectives,' said Ramirez. 'We only ever talk to people at this hour of the morning about murder.'

'And you are?' said Rivero, his distaste even more undisguised.

'Inspector Ramirez,' he said. 'We've never met before, Sr Rivero. You'd have remembered it.'

'I can't think how I can help you.'

'We just want to ask some questions,' said Falcon.

'It shouldn't take too long.' That eased the tension in the doorway. Rivero could see himself in bed within the hour. He let the door fall back and the two policemen stepped in.

'We'll go up to my office,' said Rivero, trying to reel in Ramirez, who'd gone straight through the arch to the internal courtyard and was brushing his large intrusive fingers over the rough head of the low hedge.

'What's this called?' he asked.

'Box hedge,' said Rivero. 'From the family Buxaceae. They use it in England to make mazes. Shall we go upstairs?'

'It looks as if it's just been clipped,' said Ramirez. 'When did that happen?'

'Probably last weekend, Inspector Ramirez,' said Rivero, holding out his arm to herd him back into the fold. 'Let's go upstairs now, shall we?'

Ramirez snapped off a twig and twiddled it between thumb and forefinger. They went up to Rivero's office where he showed them chairs, before sinking into his own on the far side of the desk. He was irritated to find Ramirez examining the photographs on the wall: shots of Rivero, in politics and at play with the hierarchy of the Partido Popular, various members of the aristocracy, some bull breeders and a few local toreros.

'Are you looking for something, Inspector?' asked Rivero.

'You used to be the leader of Fuerza Andalucia until a few days ago,' said Ramirez. 'In fact, didn't you hand over the leadership on the morning of the explosion?'

'Well, it wasn't a sudden decision. It was something I'd been thinking about for a long time, but when something like that happens it opens up a new chapter in Seville politics, and it seemed to me that a new chapter needed new strength. Jesus Alarcon is the man to take the party forward. I think my decision has proved to be a very good one. We're polling more now than in the party's history.'

'I understood that you were very attached to the leadership,' said Ramirez, 'and that moves had been made before now to persuade you to hand over, but you'd refused. So what happened to make you think again?'

'I thought I'd just explained that.'

'Two senior members of your party left at the beginning of this year.'

'They had their reasons.'

'The newspapers reported that it was because they were fed up with your leadership.'

Silence. It always amazed Falcon how much Ramirez enjoyed making himself unpopular with 'important' people.

'I seem to remember that one of them even said that it would take a bomb to get you to give up the leadership and, I quote: "That would have the satisfying side effect of removing Don Eduardo from politics as well." That doesn't sound as if you were actively thinking about giving up your position, Sr Rivero.'

'The person who said that was expecting the leadership to be conferred on him. I didn't think he was a suitable candidate as he was only seven years younger than me. It was unfortunate that we fell out over the matter.'

'That's not what was written in the newspapers,' said Ramirez. 'They were reporting that these two senior members of your party were not pushing themselves forward but were, in fact, pushing for Jesus Alarcon to take over. What I was wondering was, what happened between then and now to bring about this sudden change of heart?'

'I'm quite flattered to find you so knowledgeable about my party,' said Rivero, who regained some strength by reminding himself that these men were homicide detectives and not from the sex crimes squad. 'But didn't you tell me you were here to talk about something else? It's late; perhaps we should press on.'

'Yes, of course,' said Ramirez. 'It was probably just malicious rumour anyway.'

Ramirez sat down, very pleased with himself. Rivero looked at him steadily over the rims of the gold specs he'd just put on. It was difficult to know what was burning inside him. Did he want to know what this rumour was, or would he prefer Ramirez just to shut the fuck up?

'We're looking for a missing person, Don Eduardo,' said Falcon.

Rivero's head whipped away from Ramirez to focus on Falcon.

'A missing person?' he said, and some relief crept into the corner of his face. 'I can't think of anybody I know who's gone missing, Inspector Jefe.'

'We're here because this man was last seen in your household by one of your maids,' said Falcon, who had spoken each word clearly and slowly so that he could watch the accumulation ease into Eduardo Rivero with the intrusiveness of a medical probe.

Rivero was a practised politician, but even he could not relax and animate himself through the progression of this sentence. Perhaps because it was a line that he'd dreaded hearing and had forced to the bleakest region of his mind.

'I'm not sure who you could be talking about,' said Rivero, clutching at the rope of hope, only to find frayed cotton threads.

'His name is Tateb Hassani, although in America he was known as Jack Hansen. He was a professor of Arabic Studies at Columbia University in New York,' said Falcon, who removed a photograph from his inside pocket and snapped it down in front of Rivero. 'I'm sure you'd recognize one of your own house guests, Don Eduardo.'

Rivero leaned forward and planted his elbows on the desk. He glanced down, stroked his chin and massaged his jowls with his thumb, over and over, whilst ransacking the furniture of his brain for the inspiration that would take him to the next moment.

'You're right,' said Rivero. 'Tateb Hassani was a guest in this house until last Saturday, when he left, and I haven't seen or heard of him since.'

'What time did he leave here on Saturday and how did he depart from these premises?' asked Falcon.

'I'm not sure when he left…'

'Was it daylight?'

'I wasn't here when he left,' said Rivero.

'When was the last time you saw him?'

'It was after lunch, probably four thirty. I said I was going to take a siesta. He said he would be leaving.'

'When did you wake from your siesta?'

'About six thirty.'

'And Tateb Hassani had already gone?'

'That is correct.'

'I'm sure your staff will be able to confirm that.' Silence.

'When did you last see the cosmetic surgeon, Agustin Cardenas?'

'He was here this evening…for dinner.'

'And before that?'

Silence, while monstrous abstractions boiled up, loomed, subsided and loomed again in Rivero's nauseated mind.

'He was here on Saturday evening, again for dinner.'

'How did he arrive for dinner?'

'In his car.'

'Can you describe that car?'

'It's a black Mercedes Estate E500. He'd just bought it last year.'

'Where did he park his car?'

'Inside the front doors, below the arch.'

'Did Agustin Cardenas stay the night here?'

'Yes.'

'What time did he leave on Sunday?'

'At about eleven in the morning.'

'Were you aware of that car leaving your house at any time between Agustin Cardenas's arrival and his departure on Sunday morning?'

'No,' said Rivero, the sweat careening down his spine.

'Who else was present at that dinner on Saturday night?'

Rivero cleared his throat. The water was getting deeper, winking at his chin.

'I'm not sure what this could possibly have to do with the disappearance of Tateb Hassani.'

'Because that was the night that Tateb Hassani was poisoned with cyanide, had his hands surgically removed, his face burnt off with acid and his scalp cut away from his skull,' said Falcon.

Rivero had to clench his buttocks against the sudden looseness of his bowels.

'But I've already told you that Tateb Hassani left here before dinner,' said Rivero. 'Maybe four hours before dinner.'

'And I'm sure that can be corroborated by the domestic servants on duty here at the time,' said Falcon.

'We're not accusing you of lying, Don Eduardo,' said Ramirez. 'But we must have a clear idea of what happened here, in this house, in the hope that it will explain what happened later.'

'What happened later?'

'Let's take it step by step,' said Falcon. 'Who attended the dinner, apart from yourself and Agustin Cardenas?'

'That will shed no light on the disappearance of Tateb Hassani, because HE HAD ALREADY LEFT THIS HOUSE!' roared Rivero, hammering out the last six words with his fist on the desk.

'There's no need to upset yourself, Don Eduardo,' said Ramirez, leaning forward, full of false concern. 'Surely you can understand, given that a man was murdered and brutally dealt with, that the Inspector Jefe has to ask questions that may appear mystifying but which, we can assure you, will have a bearing on the case.'

'Let's go back a step,' said Falcon, to make it sound less unrelenting. 'Tell me who prepared Saturday's dinner and who served it.'

'It was prepared by the cook and it wasn't served. It was brought up to the room next door and laid out as a buffet.'

'Can we have those employees' names please?' said Falcon.

'They left straight afterwards and went home.'

'We'd still like their names and phone numbers,' said Falcon, and Ramirez handed over his notebook, which Rivero refused to accept.

'This is an infringement…'

'Tell us what happened after the dinner,' said Falcon. 'What time did it finish, who left and who stayed, and what did those who stayed do for the remainder of the night?'

'No, this is too much. I've told you everything that's relevant to the disappearance of Tateb Hassani. I've cooperated fully. All these other questions I consider to be outrageous intrusions into my private life and I see no reason why I should answer them.'

'Why was Tateb Hassani a house guest of yours for five days?'

'I told you, I'm not answering any more questions.'

'In that case, we must inform you that Tateb Hassani was suspected of terrorist offences, directly linked to the Seville bombing. His handwriting was on documents found in the destroyed mosque. You were therefore harbouring a terrorist, Don Eduardo. I think you know what that means regarding our investigation. So we would like you to accompany us down to the Jefatura and we will continue this interview under the terms of the antiterrorism-'

'Now, Inspector Jefe, let's not be too hasty,' said Rivero, blood draining from his face. 'You came here enquiring about the disappearance of Tateb Hassani. I have cooperated as best I can. Now you are changing the nature of your enquiry without giving me the opportunity to address the matter in this new light.'

'We didn't want to have to force your hand, Don Eduardo,' said Falcon. 'Let's go back to why you entertained Tateb Hassani as your house guest for five days…'

Rivero swallowed and braced himself against the desk for this next lap of the course.

'He was helping us to formulate our immigration policy. He, like us, did not believe that Africa and Europe were compatible, or that Islam and Christianity could cohabit in harmony. His particular insights into the Arabic mind were extremely helpful to us. And, of course, his name and stature added weight to our cause.'

'Despite the fact that he rarely visited his homeland, had spent his entire adult life in the USA and that he had to leave Columbia University under the cloud of a sexual harassment case, which cost him his apartment and all his savings?' said Falcon.

'Despite that,' said Rivero. 'His insights were invaluable.'

'How much did Fuerza Andalucia pay him for this work?'

Rivero stared into the desk, terrified by this burgeoning demand for more and more improvisation. How was he ever going to remember any of it? Fatigue got a foothold in his viscera. He viciously shrugged it off. He had to hang on, like a fatally wounded man he had to keep talking, to overwhelm any desire he might have to give up. The flaws were developing inside him. His shell had been weakening from the moment that DVD had come anonymously into his possession and he'd had to view the hideousness of his indiscretions. The cracks had spread further when Angel had come to see him. He had listened, his white mane of hair gone wild and his face battered by excessive alcohol, as Angel had told him how he'd saved him. The rumour had been rife, like a wildfire consuming the tinder-dry undergrowth, gathering strength to leap up into an enormous conflagration. Angel had saved him, but it had come at a price. The time had come to step down or be destroyed.

That conversation with Angel had weakened him more than he knew. Over the days the flaws spread through him until every part of him was ruined. Every step now was a step down into the dark. Murder had come into his house and a desecration of the sanctity of the body. He could not think, after it had taken place, how such a thing could have happened to him in a matter of weeks. One moment brilliant and whole, the next corrupt, fractured, fissured beyond repair. He had to get a grip on himself. The centre must hold.

'You must remember what you had to pay for such invaluable advice,' said Falcon, who had been watching this immense struggle from the other side of the desk.

'It was 5,000,' said Rivero.

'Was that with a cheque?'

'No, cash.'

'You paid him with black money?'

'Even policemen know how this country works,' said Rivero, acidly.

'I must say, Don Eduardo, that I do admire your poise under these very stressful circumstances,' said Falcon. 'Had I been in your shoes and found out that the man I'd paid €5,000 for his advice on immigration had also been involved in a terrorist plot to take over two schools and a university faculty, I would be in a state of shock. That this man should also have been responsible for writing out those appalling instructions to kill schoolchildren, one by one, until their demands had been met would devastate me, if I were you.'

'But then again, you are a politician,' said Ramirez, smiling.

Sweat was raking down his flanks, his stomach was embarking on a ferocious protest, his blood pressure was screaming in his ears, his heartbeat was so fast and tight that his breathing had shallowed, and his brain gasped for oxygen. And yet, he sat there, tapping the side of his nose, bracing himself against the desk.

'I have to say,' Rivero said, 'that I cannot begin to think what this means.'

'So, you had this dinner on Saturday night,' said Falcon. 'It wasn't served, but was laid out as a buffet. How many people attended that dinner? So far, we have yourself and Agustin Cardenas, but you'd hardly go to the trouble of a buffet for just two people, would you?'

'Angel Zarrias was there as well,' said Rivero, smoothly, thinking, yes, they could have Angel, he should go down with them, the little fucker. 'I quite often have buffets on Saturday nights, so that the servants can go home and enjoy dinner with their families.'

'What time did Angel arrive?'

'He was here around 9.30, I think.'

'And Agustin Cardenas?'

'About 10 p.m.'

'Did he arrive with anybody else?'

'No.'

'He was alone in the car?'

'Yes.'

'You're saying there were only three people for dinner?'

Rivero didn't care about the lying any more. It was all lies. He stared into his desk and let them fall from his tongue, like gold coins worn to a slippery smoothness.

'Yes. I quite often have a buffet and whoever turns up…turns up.'

Falcon glanced at Ramirez, who shrugged at him, nodded him in for the kill.

'Do you know one of your staff called Mario Gomez?'

'Of course.'

'It was he who laid out the buffet in the next room on that Saturday night.'

'That would be his job,' said Rivero.

'He told us that he'd served Tateb Hassani with at least one meal a day since he'd arrived in your house, up here in these rooms.'

'Possibly.'

'He knew who Tateb Hassani was, and he saw you accompanying him upstairs to dinner with Angel Zarrias at 9.45 on Saturday night. Some hours later Tateb Hassani was poisoned with cyanide, horribly disfigured and driven from here, in Agustin Cardenas's car, to be dumped in a bin on Calle Boteros.'

Rivero clasped his hands, drove them between his slim thighs and sobbed with his head dropped on to his chest. Released at last.