“I see you appreciate what I say. Normally people listen to our explanations skeptically, but I tell you, group theory is a fascinating subject … The majority of the time our days follow a very similar pattern: tests, tasks are planned … call it what you will. Nevertheless, sometimes an element outside them and us alters the dynamic of the group much more than planned.”
“And this element appeared in this case?” Héctor guessed the answer, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.
“Yes!” The instructor’s expression revealed a satisfaction akin to that of a football fan whose team has just won the league. “During one of our tests the group stumbled upon a … disturbing external element.”
“The strangled dogs?” prompted Héctor.
“Bravo. Yes. It was an unpleasant experience, of course, and shocking enough for the group to carry out an activity of their own, according to what I found out afterward. They found them mid-morning on Saturday, and although they returned to the house to complete the planned task, afterward they decided to go and bury them. Neither Joan nor I was there then; usually they are left alone on Saturday afternoon to interact without intermediaries: this is also part of the program. So the group met, voted and acted as one. A great achievement bearing in mind that only a day before they couldn’t agree on sharing bedrooms.”
“Did they argue over bedrooms?”
“There are always disagreements, Inspector. In this case, I remember very well, one member felt uncomfortable having to share a room. Wait …” He glanced at his notes. “Yes, Manel Caballero. He asked if it were possible to sleep alone, which isn’t the point of away days. In any case, and although the observations come from only one weekend, I’d say Manel was the classic disruptive participant. He never protested overtly, but took advantage of any opportunity to call the whole group’s task into question. A most obnoxious young man, to be frank; an uncomfortable element, not at all inclined to cooperate. One who thinks the whole world is against him.”
“And who did he share with in the end?”
“That I don’t remember,” he answered. “Although more than likely he shared with the youngest two men. The house is big and there were empty rooms, but as I say, it shows scant spirit of cooperation to ask for a private room. They were days of teamwork, not a weekend’s vacation.”
Héctor was processing this information with the nagging feeling that there was an essential piece missing in this jigsaw.
“I did say I didn’t think it would be of much help to you,” added the man, a sage reader of the expressions of others.
“In an investigation everything is useful,” replied Héctor.
“You’re the expert, not me. I can only say that they left as a much more cohesive group than they arrived. Not that this then continues in their workplace.”
“No?”
“Not at all. Although something of it can last, of course. In some groups a positive energy, of common purpose, is generated, but it’s not a permanent feeling. When conflict puts it to the test, it deteriorates.”
“In that case, what purpose do they serve? The away days, I mean.”
“I’ll deny ever saying this, Inspector,” the man said. “Very little and a lot. I’ll explain it quickly: employers have learned that conflict is costly on many levels. One way of avoiding it is by making their employees feel well treated, comfortable, appreciated. Before, categories were clear and members of the different classes fought among themselves. Now a kind of harmony floats between everyone, a harmony that interests some and makes others happy. A harmony that lasts only while there are benefits … We’re already seeing it.”
Héctor was beginning to get lost and didn’t want to forget the point of his visit.
“One more thing, do you remember if Amanda Bonet complained of having seen someone on Friday night? Someone prowling around the house, I mean.”
“No … At least I don’t remember her saying anything like that, although it’s not unusual. The house is a bit isolated and city people tend to feel somewhat afraid, especially at night.”
“Where is it, exactly?”
The man took a photograph from a drawer. As Duque had said, it was a typical Empordà country house.
“It’s within the Garrigàs municipal area, but it’s outside the town.”
“Do the instructors go back and forth every day?”
“No, that would be exhausting. It’s about ten kilometers from Figueres, and the weekends we have to work at the house we stay there.”
“Right. And does someone take care of maintenance, food …?”
“Yes and no. The participants take charge of the house for the time they’re there: that is to say, they cook or eat out except when the activity requires catering. We do have a couple who live relatively nearby-about one and a half kilometers away-contracted for cleaning and maintenance once the house is vacated.”
Héctor nodded. He didn’t have much more to ask, but he couldn’t help putting one last question.
“Did you notice anything in particular about the members of that group? Nothing you’d have to swear to before a jury-just any subjective impression. It won’t leave this room,” he assured him.
“No. That’s the truth-I’ve been thinking about it since you rang yesterday and even more since I saw the news in the paper.” He shook his head, with a touch of regret. “The final day, the Sunday, they were tired, but that’s normal. They were interacting much more positively, as I told you, but that’s not strange either. Sometimes the opposite happens and they leave more confrontational. Groups are unpredictable, Inspector. Mostly because they’re made up of people, or rather, individuals. Different individuals obliged to work together. They wouldn’t have chosen each other as friends, and they’re not linked by family ties; they share only a space, responsibilities, goals.”
“Like at work.”
“Exactly. Permit me a comparison to the animal world. Do you know the most sought-after quality in a pack of dogs for hunters?”
“Sense of smell?” ventured Héctor.
“More than a sense of smell.” He paused somewhat theatrically, before announcing in a didactic tone: “Cohesion. While the hunt lasts, the dogs must prove that they can work together to achieve a common goal. However …”
“What?”
“When the hunt ends, give them something to eat and watch how they fight among themselves for the best morsel.”
30
Although on this occasion he had company, the road to Octavi Pujades’ house did not feel any the shorter. Eyes fixed on the bends of the road, drenched by the morning rain, César drove in silence, not saying a word to his companion. Brais, for his part, didn’t seem to want to talk much either. An atmosphere of doubt permeated the car, unasked questions in a confined space consuming the oxygen. Brais must have noticed it, because he instinctively opened the window a little.
“Do you mind?”
César shook his head. He’d accelerated and had to brake sharply before taking the next bend.
“Sorry,” he said to Brais, in a tone expressing little regret.
His companion shrugged.
“It wouldn’t be bad if we had an accident,” he replied. “Some might say it was poetic justice.”
In César’s opinion, such a comment didn’t merit a response.
“Don’t you think so?” Brais insisted. “Don’t you think it would be a good way of ending all this?”
“Fuck, Brais. Don’t come at me with these ideas, all right?”
Arjona smiled.
“I’d love to know if you dislike me so much because I’m gay or because I beat you in the canoe race.”
César snorted.
“I don’t like you because you say that sort of thing.”
“I’ll give you that.”
Brais laughed and the guffaw, even though brief and slightly bitter, eased the tension a little.
“Seriously, César, don’t you ever have regrets? About what we did? I’m just curious and no one’s listening.”