The Lost Testament

55

The heat hit them as they stepped out of the terminal building in Madrid, a solid wall of warm and muggy air that seemed to suck sweat straight out of every pore on their bodies.

‘God,’ Angela muttered. ‘Please tell me you got a car with air conditioning.’

‘You’re damn right I did. I’ve driven in Spain before, and you need air con here even in the winter.

‘There it is,’ Bronson added, as the lights on a light-blue León began to flash in response to him pressing the button on the car key.

They walked over to the car and placed their bags and laptops in the boot, before setting off through the Madrid streets.

The Spanish city looked very much like any other major city in Europe, a mixture of wide avenues and narrow streets, large and imposing public buildings and rundown apartment blocks. The worldwide economic recession had had a major effect upon the economy of Spain, and they were not surprised to see that quite a number of shops and other businesses were boarded up. But there were still a lot of cars on the road, most of them fairly new and many of them quite expensive makes. Clearly there were still some people in the country who were making money.

‘Of course,’ Angela pointed out as they drove through the streets, ‘Spain has always had a very prosperous black economy. I think the Spanish regard income tax, and most other taxes, in fact, as an optional expense, and if there’s any practical way of hiding funds from business transactions from the Hacienda — that’s the Spanish taxman — then they would do it. They call it mattress money, because under the mattress is the one reasonably safe place where they can hide it.’

‘Then it’s not too surprising that the Spanish economy is in such a deep hole at the moment, is it? I read one report that said about five million new homes had been built in Spain that nobody wanted, because the Spanish population is falling, not increasing, and it now probably stands at less than forty-five million. It’s a bloody shambles!’

The hotel was located in a narrow side street close to a small square. It had its own dedicated parking area on the two underground levels beneath the building. Bronson drove down the ramp and easily found a vacant space, then he and Angela took the lift to the reception on the ground floor.

Their room was on the third floor, overlooking the street. It didn’t take them long to put away the few clothes they’d brought with them, and as soon as they’d done that, Bronson suggested going downstairs for a drink.

‘Bring your laptop,’ he said. ‘We can probably log in to the hotel Wi-Fi system in the bar, and then you can check your emails and see if that guy has come back to you. Here,’ he added, taking hold of her computer bag. ‘I’ll carry it for you.’

Angela looked at him suspiciously.

‘You’re being particularly nice to me at the moment. What do you want?’

‘Only your body, much later, if you’re willing to share it.’

Angela looked at the large double bed which dominated the room.

‘Well, we’ll obviously be sleeping together because there’s only one bed, but I haven’t yet decided whether or not we’ll be sleeping together. It all depends on how well you treat me and where we go out to eat tonight. And I don’t want bloody paella.’