‘But, in spite of all that preparation, everything seemed to go wrong straight away. Three or four minutes had passed when a shot was fired inside the branch; almost immediately there was another. When we heard them, the first thing I did was alert the other cars and tell those on the way in and out of town to cut off access to the highway; then I called the station and told them I’d changed plans and was going in. I didn’t finish talking: at that moment Zarco and the other two kids who’d gone in with him came out of the branch taking the stockings off their heads. I shouted at them to halt, but they didn’t stop and, since I was afraid they were going to escape, I fired a shot; beside me, Mejía fired too. It was no use, and before we knew it the three of them had jumped in the car and were fleeing towards Gerona. We went after them, saw them charge into the car blocking the ramp onto the highway and carry on, and then I had a good idea. I knew that, in a car chase, they’d have the upper hand, not because the car they were driving was better than ours, but because they drove as if they knew no fear, so I called the station and talked to Deputy Superintendent Martínez and told him that, if he didn’t send us one of the helicopters they were using for Operation Summer, the armed robbers would get away again. Again Martínez came through for me and the helicopter soon appeared and thanks to it we didn’t lose their trail (or we lost it but we found it again). Finally their car overturned as they took the curve onto La Barca Bridge, on the way into the city, and that was the end of Zarco.
‘It happened more or less like this. We arrived at the bridge just after they’d flipped over, just when they were crawling out of the car, which had stopped upside down on the asphalt. There were four of us, two cars, we stopped twenty or thirty metres from the accident and, when we saw the robbers take off running across the bridge, we ran after them. Although there had been four in the car, there were three running, and we instantly recognized Zarco, but not the other two, or not with certainty. One of my officers stayed to examine the overturned car and, when we got to the other side of the bridge, I shouted to the other to run after one of them, who’d fled on his own in the direction of Pedret. Mejía and I followed Zarco and the other kid. We were lucky: on the way into La Devesa Park Zarco tripped and fell and broke his ankle, and that’s how we caught him.’
‘And the other one?’
‘The one who was with Zarco? If you’ve been talking about this with Cañas, you already know what happened: he got away.’
‘You didn’t follow him? You let him get away?’
‘Neither. What happened is that Zarco kept us busy long enough that Gafitas was able to get away.’
‘Do you think he did it on purpose?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Were you sure the guy who’d got away was Gafitas?’
‘No, but that was my impression, and Mejía’s too. What I was sure of (I think I told you this already) is that, as soon as we brought Zarco down, the gang was finished.
‘And it was. That very evening I began to interrogate Zarco and the other two members of his gang we’d nabbed that afternoon, who turned out to be two kids called Jou and Gordo (Gordo, who lost consciousness in the accident on La Barca, I interrogated a few hours after he’d been admitted to hospital; Zarco didn’t even get there: a doctor put a cast on his leg in the station house). The interrogation lasted the regulation three days but there was no surprise; it wasn’t even a surprise that from the start all three detainees piled as much shit as they could at the doors of Guille and Tío, who could take all the shit in the world because one was dead and the other quadraplegic. I don’t know if it was a strategy they’d prepared beforehand, in case they got caught, or if it occurred to each one on their own, but it was the most sensible thing they could do. Of course it didn’t surprise me that Zarco was astute enough not to cop to any more than strictly necessary either, and much less that he didn’t give anyone up for anything; I knew this was what was going to happen: not only because Zarco was the toughest in the gang and the one with most experience, but also because he was their leader, and a leader loses all his authority if he turns into an informer. However, I did get Gordo and Jou to give up Zarco for a couple of things (I tricked them: I told them he’d already copped to it himself, and they swallowed it), but I didn’t get them to give up Gafitas, or the girls or any of the others who’d participated at some point in the gang’s misdemeanours without actually being part of it. This didn’t matter to me too much — why should I lie to you — because, like I said, I thought that once I’d thrown the book at Zarco the gang would be out of action, and sooner rather than later the fringes would end up coming undone and falling of their own accord. So I rushed through the interrogations, took the greatest of care writing up the affidavit and put Zarco and the rest before a judge. And that was it: the judge sent them to the Modelo prison to await trial and I never saw Zarco again. In person, I mean; like everyone else, I later saw him often on TV, in magazines, newspapers and such. But that’s another story, and you know it better than I do. Are we done?’
‘More or less. Can I ask you one last question?’
‘Sure.’
‘What happened with Gafitas? Did he end up falling of his own accord?’
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘I’ve got Cañas’ version already.’
‘I’m sure it’s right.’
‘I don’t doubt it. But I’d like to hear yours as well. Why don’t you want to tell me?’
‘Because I’ve never told anybody.’
‘That makes it even more interesting.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with your book.’
‘Maybe not, but that doesn’t matter.’
‘Will you give me your word that you’re not going to use what I tell you?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK. You’ll see. At dusk on the day I arrested Zarco I showed up alone at Gafitas’ house. I didn’t want to waste time: I’d just interrogated Zarco and his two accomplices in the Bordils bank robbery for the first time at the station and, while I left the three of them stewing in their cells before waking them up in the early hours to begin the interrogation again, I decided to go after him, who was the one I suspected of being the fourth. As soon as his mother opened the door I knew I’d guessed right. It wasn’t the poor woman’s terror that betrayed her but the huge efforts she was making to hide her terror. She was so distraught that she didn’t even ask me why I was looking for her son, all she managed to say was that for the last week he had been with his father at a friend’s place, in Colera, taking advantage of the last days of the holidays; then, before I had time to ask for it, she gave me the address. An hour later I got to Colera, an isolated little seaside village, near the border at Portbou. I asked where the house was and found it not far from the beach; it was dark and looked uninhabited, but there was a car by the door. I parked beside it. I let a few seconds pass. I went and rang the bell.