'Talk to Virgilio Guzmán about that,' said Falcón. 'The point is that nobody from this case is going to face justice, not because they don't deserve to, but because our institution has dirty linen and the administration that controls us is using that, because theirs is even dirtier.'
'They're all marked men,' said Lobo. 'You'll see – people will lose their power, have contracts taken away from them, lose their status… they will suffer.'
'They might not realize their ambitions, which will be their little tragedy,' said Falcón, 'but they'll remain at liberty, which will be ours.'
'So you believe that we should expose everybody, reveal the corruption within -'
'Yes,' said Falcón. 'And start again.'
'All those years as a cop and you've learnt nothing about human nature,' said Lobo. 'How long will it be before the Russian mafia starts working on the next generation?'
'I'm having my say, Comisario, that's all,' said Falcón, feeling that weakness coming back into his arms.
'You know, Javier, this is not something peculiar to Spain,' said Lobo. 'It's happening all over the world. We've just had the CIA on our doorstep, and what were they doing? Preserving their institutions.
Maintaining the dignity of office of the President of the United States and the Secretary of State.'
'Is that what the Consul told you?'
'In so many words,' said Lobo.
'So you didn't see the "recording" that Flowers said proved Krugman's innocence?'
'The Consul confirmed that it existed.'
'Such trust between institutional powers!' said Falcón. 'You didn't see that recording because there isn't one. Flowers gave Krugman an alibi because it was probably his decision to end the uncertainty about what secrets Vega was holding – the man had become too unstable to predict. I think Krugman killed him when Flowers gave him the man's real identity and – let's have a moment's silence for the forgotten Lucia – he also had to kill his completely innocent wife.'
'I cannot call the integrity of the US Consul into question to his face, Javier,' said Lobo, annoyed now.
'I know these things, Comisario. I'm naive in the workings of power but not totally inexperienced. But every time something like this happens – and let's remember the financial impropriety of your predecessor, which put you in the exalted office you hold now. Every time something like this happens, a little of that dirt rubs off on me. I scrub and I scrub, but there's always that understain showing through. I start thinking I'll have to get back into my suits, just to give myself the illusion that good can still prevail.'
'We need men like you and Inspector Ramírez, Javier,' said Lobo. 'Don't be in any doubt about that.'
'Do you? I'm not so sure. The tools of the good are so pathetic and predictable when compared to those of the bad,' said Falcón. 'If we're these dirty people with a deep understanding of ingrained dirt from our years working in these corrupted institutions, maybe we should learn something from that. All this first-hand knowledge of the forces of darkness should not go to waste.'
'Well, that is a dangerous path to tread,' said Lobo.
Back in the office Ramírez and Ferrera looked up for the chink of hope. Falcón stood before them and opened his hands to show the emptiness within. He went into his office. There was a small piece of paper in the middle of his desk on which he knew was written the translation of the inscription found at the finca. He put his hands on either side of it and braced himself to read it.
I'm sorry, Mummy, but we cannot do this any more.
He left the office without a word and went to pick up Alicia Aguado. He was glad to be with her. She was happy and looking forward to her next session with Sebastián. She was pleased by his progress. Pablo's death had released him from his past and he was revealing things in days that would normally have taken months to extract.
When they arrived in the observation cell it was obvious that Sebastián was glad to see her. He sat and bared his wrist, impatient. Falcón could hardly concentrate on their discussion. His conversation with Lobo was still spiralling through his mind and forming a triple helix with Ignacio Ortega and the Russians. Every avenue of contact to the Russians had been cut – Vega, Montes and Krugman were all dead and Vázquez paralysed with fear. The only way left was the darkest path of all, through Ignacio Ortega, and that was where the three strands of his triple helix met – Lobo's last words to him.
Some intensity from the observation cell broke through to him and he concentrated on the dialogue for a moment.
'How old were you?' asked Aguado.
'I was fifteen. It wasn't an easy time for me. School was difficult. My home life was constantly disrupted. I was unhappy.'
'Tell me how it came out.'
'We were driving to Huelva. He was appearing in a play there and we were going to carry on to Tavira in Portugal and spend the weekend on the beach.'
'Why did you choose that moment?'
'I didn't choose it. I got angry with him. I got angry with him telling me what a wonderful guy his brother was. How considerate he was. How helpful. My father was useless at running his finances and Ignacio was constantly helping him out. He also sent electricians and plumbers around to the house to do repairs. He even rewired the house free of charge. It was nothing to Ignacio. It didn't cost him anything. He put it all through his company. But my father thought he was a great guy for doing all this. He didn't see what Ignacio was up to. He didn't see how much his brother loathed him, how much he despised him for his talent and his fame. So in one of these moments, when Pablo was polishing away at his brother's gilded image, I told him.'
'Can you remember your exact words?'
'I remember everything as if it just happened,' said Sebastián. 'I said: "You know, when you used to go away on tour and you left me with your brother…" and my father turned to me and smiled and his face was full of love for what he was about to hear – another wonderful thing about Ignacio. It was so pathetic I nearly couldn't bring myself to say it, but my anger got the better of me and I rammed it home. I said:… he used to sexually abuse me every night." He lost control of the car. It came off the road and we ended up in a ditch. He started hitting me, slapping me around the head and face, so I opened the window and clambered out into the ditch. He came after me, heaving open his own door like a man coming out of a tank.
'The thing about my father was that you never knew when he was acting. He could do anger and turn around and do love. But that afternoon there was no mistaking his rage. He caught up with me in the field by the road. He grabbed me by the hair and swung me around. He slapped me about the face and head, with the front and back of his massive hands, until I was a ragdoll. He pulled my face up to his and I saw his sweat and his teeth and his lips stretched white and the smell of his breath as he forced me to take back my words. He made me say to him that I had lied. He made me beg for his forgiveness. And when I did, he gave it to me and said that we would never speak about this day ever again.
'And we didn't. We never really spoke to each other again after that day'
'Do you think he talked to Ignacio about it?'
'I'm sure he didn't. I would have known about it. Ignacio would have come after me to frighten me back into silence.'
They sat quietly for a moment. Alicia weighed the enormity of that day in her mind. Falcón sat outside remembering the dream Pablo had told him and his subsequent collapse on the lawn. He could see the thoughts in Alicia's twitching unseeing eyes. Was this the right time? What should my next question be? What question will unlock the reasoning behind Sebastián's extreme action?