‘You publish, she’ll blow you out.’
‘I publish I make a fortune, so I’d get over that.’
I nodded. ‘You’ve got all bases loaded, eh Duncan?’
‘And a pitcher on the mound with a very weak arm.’
‘So it would seem,’ I agreed. ‘But let’s forget the baseball analogies. What you’re really doing is extorting two million pounds from me.’
He laughed, the insolent bastard. ‘No, I’m selling you global rights to a work of fiction. Once you’ve bought it it’ll be up to you whether you exploit it or not.’
‘I’d still call it extortion.’
He held up his hands, palms outwards, as if in surrender. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I concede, it’s extortion. You pay, and you keep your reputation and Oz’s unblemished. So, are you going to come up with the two million or not?’
‘I don’t think I’ll have to.’ I picked up my phone, put it to my ear, and said, in Catalan, ‘Have you got all of that?’
‘Yes,’ a voice replied. ‘It’s all recorded.’
For the first time since I’d joined him, a frown of uncertainty furrowed Duncan Culshaw’s forehead. As he peered at me, he didn’t see two men come out of the café through the door behind him and walk towards us. In fact he didn’t notice them at all until they took the two vacant seats at our table.
‘What the …’ he began.
‘People I asked to join us,’ I explained. ‘This is Alex,’ I nodded sideways, towards the man on my left, then forward towards the other, ‘and this is Marc.’
‘Oh. Really? You’ve brought heavies along? Come on, Primavera, this is a public place, and unless I read it wrong when I arrived here, that’s the police station right behind us.’
Alex nodded. ‘Yes it is,’ he conceded in accented but assured English, ‘but it’s only the town police, and they look in the other direction when they see us.’
Culshaw looked around him, as if he was counting the number of potential witnesses to what might happen next.
‘Senora Blackstone didn’t introduce us properly,’ Alex continued. ‘I am Intendant Guinart and this is Sergeant Sierra. We are officers in the criminal investigation division of the Mossos d’Esquadra, the Catalan police force. You have just described what you have just tried to do as extortion. We agree with you, and for that we are arresting you.’ As he spoke, Marc Sierra took Culshaw by the arm, stood, and drew him with him.
‘Senora,’ Alex said, formally, as he rose, ‘you will also need to come with us to make the denuncio …’ he looked at their prisoner, as he had become, and added, in explanation, ‘… the official complaint.’
I nodded. ‘If you say so, Intendant.’
They took him away in the Mossos car that was parked round the corner on Carrer Enric Serra (I’ve no idea who Enric was but he must have been important to have a street named after him, especially the one that runs in front of the church) and I followed in mine.
Traffic flow in L’Escala is quirky and so I arrived at the nick before they did, and was climbing out of my jeep when Marc Sierra pulled in and parked two bays along.
Culshaw was as white as a sheet when Alex helped him out of the car; he had to, because they’d handcuffed him. He glared at me; I looked back at him, my eyes trying to say, ‘You try to do me over in my own town, idiot, and this is what happens.’
I followed as he was led into the building, past the reception counter and through a door behind it. The duty officer made a move as if to stop me, but Alex stopped her instead, with a glance and a brief shake of his head.
We went upstairs, and into a room that was the polar opposite of those drab dirty interview boxes beloved of TV drama, the kind where you can almost smell the sweat. Yes, it had a table with two seats on either side, and a recorder, but it was bright and air-conditioned with a big window looking over the medical centre on the next plot and on to the Mediterranean beyond.
I stood to the side as they sat Duncan on a chair facing the door, then removed the cuffs. He seemed to relax a little in the surroundings, until Sergeant Sierra dropped the venetian blind and shut out the sun and the view, making us completely private.
‘Empty your pockets, please,’ Alex requested.
‘I want a lawyer,’ his guest exclaimed. ‘I want to phone the British Consulate.’
‘I’m sure you do, and in time we may allow that, but first, please put what’s in your pockets on the table.’
‘If you insist.’ He reached into his jacket and produced, from various pockets, a set of Oakley sunglasses, a mobile phone, a wallet, a few coins, a car key with a Hertz fob on the ring, and a British passport.
Alex picked it up, and opened it, turning to the identification page. ‘Señor Duncan William Culshaw,’ he read. ‘Age, let me work it out, thirty-four, born in Kil … Kilmack … I don’t know how to say that.’ He glanced at me. ‘Where is it, Primavera?’
I completed the place name, with correct pronunciation. ‘Kilmacolm; it’s in Scotland.’
‘Mmm. More Scottish, eh. Let’s see where else you’ve been.’ He flicked through the passport, checking the pages. ‘Singapore,’ he read, ‘USA, Ecuador.’ He smiled. ‘You’ve been to Ecuador? That’s unusual. Why did you go there?’
‘I had an airline magazine assignment. All those trips were for airline magazine articles.’
‘So it’s a coincidence that Ecuador is where Senor Oz Blackstone died?’
Culshaw nodded. ‘That’s right; a complete coincidence.’
Alex tossed the passport on the table and picked up the wallet. ‘Money,’ he murmured, ‘Mastercard, American Express, Priority Pass, driving licence …’ he stopped, squeezed a finger into a compartment behind the card slots, and drew something out, something I couldn’t see.
He looked up at his colleague, and smiled. ‘Preservativos,’ he chuckled. ‘Con sabor y aroma manzana verde. Condoms,’ he repeated, his eyes returning to their owner, ‘green apple flavour.’ He shrugged. ‘You’re not married, senor, are you?’
‘No.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘I’m in a relationship.’
‘And your lady is in L’Escala?’
‘No, of course not.’ He looked across at me, and smirked. ‘But one takes one’s opportunities as they arise, so it pays to go prepared. And after all, this morning, I was meeting a single mother,’ he drawled, ‘a popular lady by all acc-’
He was stopped in mid-sentence by the back of the cop’s hand, cracking him in the side of the mouth. I’d never seen Alex move so fast; nor had I ever seen him hit anyone before.
‘You’re in enough trouble, mister,’ he growled, ‘without making it worse. Yes, Primavera is a popular lady here, but not in the way that you infer. She is an important member of our community and she is also the godmother of my daughter.’
Alex’s clout had left a vivid red mark on Culshaw’s cheek.
‘Okay,’ the intendant snapped, ‘we get down to business.’ He tapped the recorder on the table. ‘Everything you said this morning, your entire conversation with Senora Blackstone, was transmitted to us through her phone, which was active all the time. It was recorded and we have it here, all of it, including your admission to your attempt at extortion. We’re not here to negotiate, or even to interrogate. The evidence of our ears and of this tape shows that you have committed a serious crime. Under Spanish law that will earn you a minimum of three years in prison, but given the amount of money involved here, it is likely to be much more. What will happen now? Primavera will make a formal complaint against you and you will be held in jail while I report to the public prosecutor. From then on it’ll be in her hands, but I warn you, she’s a very tough lady.’ He looked round at me. ‘Primavera, will you write the denuncio, in Catalan of course, or would you prefer to dictate it?’
‘I’m literate enough to write it myself, Intendant,’ I replied. ‘If you give me a form, I’ll complete it.’ I stepped towards the table.
‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘The spelling doesn’t have to be one hundred per cent; the meaning has to be clear, that’s all. Marc, would you fetch a denuncio paper, please.’