The Silent and the Damned aka The Vanished Hands

Calderón nodded, crushed out his cigarette, lit another.

'Vázquez said that Vega's parents were "killed", implying they did not die of natural causes,' said Falcón. 'Who were they? What happened to them? That could be interesting.'

'For background, yes,' said Calderón.

'And there something else that's not in the report. I found a file in Vega's study entitled Justicia. Inside there were articles and downloads on criminal courts such as the ICC -'

'There's your war crimes, Javier.'

'- Baltasar Garzón and the Belgian justice system,' said Falcón. 'This is very specific material for someone in the construction industry, even if he did have an interest in current affairs. Put this together with the strange note in his hand at time of death and the false passport, and maybe we're looking at someone who had sensitive information which could do damage to people.'

'Both the Krugmans and Ortega mentioned some anti-American sentiment in their interviews,' said Calderón.

'It didn't seem to be as general as that. I think Vega's anger was more directed towards government. Marty Krugman even said he was pro-America.'

'Whatever, I only mentioned that because the US administration are against the ICC, which is directly related to the post 9/11 world, and there's Vega's weird note, as you said.'

'I read something about that in El Pais yesterday, but I didn't understand why.'

'The bland reason is that the US government doesn't want any of its citizens unfairly prosecuted,' said Calderón. 'The more piquant reason is that the world after 9/11 is in need of more policing. The cops are the US military. The Americans want to reserve the right to decide what's fair. They also don't want any member of the administration indicted for war crimes. They are the most powerful nation on Earth, they're exerting influence wherever they can. Plenty of people don't like their tactics – "If you don't support us, we'll cut military aid." But it's a complex world. Just as one person's freedom fighter is another's terrorist, so one person's fair military target is another's atrocity.'

'Then don't you think an interesting line of inquiry could be to look at why Vega had the remotest interest in the ICC and other judicial systems?'

'I don't know what he was expecting from it, because the ICC only came into being on 1st July this year and it can't look at crimes committed before that date. The Belgian justice system and Baltasar Garzón just means you've got to steer clear of Europe if you're worried about being indicted or arrested. So don't narrow your vision too much, Javier,' said Calderón. 'Keep concentrating on the details as well. Has any muriatic acid been found on the property?'

'Not yet. We haven't been able to fully search the property. My squad is spread all over the place trying to find Sergei as well as looking into Vega's business.'

'You know what I'm looking for: motive, suspect, reliable witness,' said Calderón. 'What I don't want to hear about are things that weren't there. If you don't find any muriatic acid it's only an indicator, it doesn't mean anything. No more… ghosts.'

Calderón did a passable imitation of a man drowning at his desk.

'This is why we don't like talking about our hunches in front of judges.'

'I'm being glib,' said Calderón. 'I know you're concentrated on the realities and the facts, but at the moment all we've got is nuance and hint – Russian mafia involvement, Vega's obsession with international courts, the Carvajal paedophile ring…'

'We haven't discussed that yet.'

'It's just names in an address book. Some of them are crossed out. There's no meat, Javier. There aren't even skeletons in here, they're just phantasms.'

'There you go again.'

'You know the meat I'm looking for and I'm not letting you launch a full murder investigation until I get it,' said Calderón. 'We'll reconvene for a case update early next week and if you still can't bring me anything that stands up in court then we'll have to move along.'

Calderón sat back, lit another cigarette – the man smoking more than Javier could remember – and became lost in his own thoughts.

'You wanted to see me alone,' said Javier, just to nudge Calderón out of his groove.

'Apart from not wanting Inspector Ramírez thumping me into submission -'

'He's more subdued these days,' said Falcón. 'His daughter's undergoing tests in the hospital.'

'Nothing serious, I hope,' said Calderón, on automatic, the news shooting past him while his mind wrestled with his own predicament. 'I didn't know that you and Inés were still in contact.'

'We're not,' said Falcón, who then gave an absurdly elaborate explanation of how he came to be in El Cairo with her.

'Inés seemed very nervous,' said Calderón.

'Look what happened the last time she got married,' said Falcón, opening his hands, opting to look ridiculous. 'She seemed to be worried that you were having doubts. I -'

'Why would she think I was having doubts?' asked Calderón, and Falcón felt the diamond bits of the judge's drilling mind cut into him.

'She thought you seemed nervous, too.'

'And what did you say to that?'

'That it was quite natural for a man to feel nervous under these circumstances. I myself had felt the same nervousness,' said Falcón. 'And nervousness is easily misinterpreted as doubt.'

'Did you doubt?' asked Calderón.

'I never doubted her,' said Falcón, the sweat streaming down his back.

'That wasn't the question, Javier.'

'I probably did doubt. In retrospect I was probably afraid of change, of my incapacity…'

'For what?'

Falcón's chair creaked as he writhed on the skewer of the judge's questions.

'I was a different man then, more distant,' said Falcón. 'That's why I go to the shrink.'

'And now?'

With that last light inquiry, Calderón's cycle was complete. Falcón was almost grateful to receive the implicit warning that he should keep his nose out of the judge's private life.

'It's a long haul,' he said.

Falcón sat at his desk replaying the dialogue. He was relieved that he hadn't brought up the internet downloads about Maddy Krugman. That might have turned Calderón savage. The judge knew that Falcón had seen something. But under their delicate personal circumstances Falcón couldn't start talking about Maddy's involvement in the FBI inquiry until he was certain of the facts. He pitied the two lives he saw on their way to destruction as he dialled his lawyer, Isabel Cano.

She agreed to see him for a maximum of ten minutes. He drove to her small office on Calle Julio Cesar and made his way past the three law students in the outer office. She greeted him in her bare feet. He sat down and laid out his proposal to her for cutting a deal with Manuela.

'Are you out of your mind, Javier?'

'Not always,' he said.

'You now want to give her everything we've been fighting over for the last six months. You're prepared to take a loss of, God knows, half a million euros. Why don't we throw in the contents as well?'

'That's not a bad idea,' said Falcón.

She leaned over the desk at him, long black hair, dark brown, almost black eyes, a beautiful, fierce and haughty Moorish look that could wither most of the fiscales in the courts at a hundred metres.

'Is that shrink still tinkering about in your head?'

'Yes.'

'Has there been a change in medication?'

'No.'

'You're still taking the drugs?'

He nodded.

'Well, I don't know what's going on in there, but it must be very loud,' she said.

'I don't want to live in that house any more. I don't want to live with Francisco Falcón. Manuela does. She's obsessed by the place… but she doesn't have the money.'

'Then she can't have it, Javier.'

'Just think about it.'

'I've thought about it and rejected it – instantly.'

'Think some more.'