‘But I didn’t go. How strange, I thought. The more I say I wasn’t the snitch, the more Zarco thinks it was me and, the more Zarco says he did nothing to stop the police, the easier it is for me to accept that he did. How strange, I also thought. Zarco thinks I’ve done what I’ve done to repay him a favour; he doesn’t know I’ve done it to have Tere. While I was thinking these things, Zarco had found a twisted cigarette in the Fortuna packet, had straightened it out, lit it and was smoking it while staring with ferocity at the TV, where at that moment two bikers and a woman were sitting on stools in a roadside bar talking. The coke had accelerated my heart as well as my brain; I was fed up with Zarco and the situation I’d got myself into. I looked at Tere and, although I felt no confidence or strength to convince anyone of anything, I decided to make one last attempt. You’re going to ruin everything, I told Zarco’s profile: his eyes remained on what was happening on the TV. This is your last chance, and you’re going to fuck it up. It’s up to you; there won’t be another one: if you don’t go back, forget about any releases, forget about parole, forget about a pardon, forget it all. And get ready for everyone to forget about you and to spend the rest of your life behind bars. I stopped, struck by the certainty that, in a bolt of lucidity, I’d just come to completely understand Zarco. Of course, now that I think of it, I went on, with ill-considered audacity, maybe that’s what you want. I left the phrase suspended and waited for Zarco to look at me, or ask. He did neither. Then, as if taking revenge for his bragging and insults, I said: I might be a dickhead, but you’re a coward: you’re not afraid of spending the rest of your life behind bars; what scares you is spending it on the outside. I hadn’t finished the sentence when Zarco jumped up from the sofa, kicked the improvised table out of the way, grabbed me by my shirt collar and nearly picked me up off the floor. The next time you say that I’ll break your neck, he threatened as I inhaled his homicidal breath, with his face a centimetre from mine. Is that clear, Gafitas? I was so frightened that I didn’t even nod; after a few seconds Zarco let me go and stood staring at me with a grimace of disgust, panting. It seemed as though he was going to say something else or go back to the sofa, but he turned to Tere, who was watching us unmoved, sitting on her beer case, leaning against the wall. And what are you looking at? he said to her. Nothing, answered Tere, stroking the mole next to her nose. I was thinking about what Gafitas said. Then she stood up, started walking towards the door and added: We’ll wait for you in the car.
‘While we went down the stairs in the semi-darkness, I murmured: I’ve had it with that fucking bastard. Did you see that? He was about to strangle me. Don’t be silly, Gafitas, said Tere, walking ahead of me. You were great. Yeah, fucking great, I said sarcastically. So were you. By the way, thanks for lending me a hand: if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here to tell the tale. Dawn was breaking. We got in the car and I started the engine. Putting her hand on top of mine on the gearshift, Tere said: Wait. He’s going to come down. I looked at her hand and then I looked at her. Are you crazy or what? I said, still very pissed off. He’s not coming down, don’t you realize? Then I lost it and started shouting and cursing Zarco. I don’t remember what I said, or I’d rather not remember. But what I remember very well is that Tere stopped my stream of insults with a slap. And only then did I shut up, stunned. A few seconds later, Tere said: Sorry. I didn’t answer. I turned off the engine and we sat there beside each other in silence, watching the first cars of the day on the roundabout that gave onto the ring road, watching the ash-coloured light of dawn growing on the windscreen. After five or ten minutes I heard Tere say: There he is. I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Zarco walking away from the tower block on the outskirts that half an hour earlier had looked like a spaceship and now just looked like a tower block on the outskirts of town, I saw him walk unsteadily to my car, I saw him get in and sit in the back seat, I saw him look me in the eye in the rear-view mirror, I heard him say: Let’s go, dickhead.’
Chapter 8
‘He showed up about seven, shortly before breakfast. By then I was starting to come to terms with the idea that Gamallo was not coming back and I was waiting for the moment to call the director-general to give him the news and then go home to get a little sleep. I’d spent the whole night in my office. I’d gone out into the yard to kill time, stretch my legs and get a bit of air when a car pulled up at the front gates. It wasn’t completely light yet, but before the car stopped I recognized Cañas in the front seat and that girl. What did you say her name was?’
‘Tere.’
‘Tere, yes: I always forget her name.’
‘You already knew her?’
‘Of course. I’d only seen her a couple of times in the prison, but I knew she went to see Gamallo every weekend. And I knew she was working with Cañas and María Vela to get Gamallo out of there.’
‘Did you know what her relationship was with Gamallo and with Cañas?’
‘Someone told me she was a friend or relative of Gamallo’s or of Gamallo’s family. As far as I recall that was all I knew then; I found out the rest later.’
‘Go on.’
‘There’s not much to tell. Gamallo got out of the car, rang the bell, they opened the gate and, before he went into the prison, he walked past me with his head hanging and his hands in his pockets, without looking at me or saying a word. I didn’t say anything to him either. What I did do was walk across the yard to the entry gate and stand there for a moment, in front of Cañas’ car, waiting. I don’t know what I was waiting for. Maybe that Cañas would get out of his car and give me some explanation; maybe not. The fact is he neither got out of the car nor gave me any explanation. I mean Cañas. He just sat there looking at me through the windscreen for a few seconds, in the dirty dawn light; then he started his car, turned around and drove away.’