The Angel's Game (The Cemetery of Forgotten 2)

“I think so. He came with a couple of big guys I didn’t like the look of. I think he wants to pin the deaths of Roures and Marlasca’s widow on you. You’d better keep your eyes peeled—they’re probably watching you. If you like, you could come here.”

“Thanks, Señor Salvador. I’ll think about it. I don’t want to get you into any more trouble.”

“Whatever you do, watch out. I think you were right: Jaco is back. I don’t know why, but he’s back. Do you have a plan?”

“I’m going to try to find Valera, the lawyer. I think the publisher for whom Marlasca worked is at the heart of all this, and I think Valera is the only person who knows the truth.”

Salvador paused for a moment.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll call you once I’ve spoken to Valera.”

“As you wish. Are you armed?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Señor Salvador … Roures spoke to me about a woman in the Somorrostro area whom Marlasca had consulted. Someone he had met through Irene Sabino.”

“The Witch of Somorrostro.”

“What do you know about her?”

“There isn’t much to know. I don’t think she even exists, the same as this mysterious publisher. What you need to worry about is Jaco and the police.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Call me as soon as you know anything, will you?”

“I will. Thanks.”

I hung up and as I passed the bar I left a few coins to cover the calls and the glass of brandy, which was still there, untouched.

Twenty minutes later I was standing outside 442 Avenida Diagonal, looking up at the lights that were on in Valera’s office, at the top of the building. The porter’s lodge was closed, but I banged on the door until the porter peered out with a distinctly unfriendly expression on his face. As soon as he’d opened the door a little to get rid of me, I gave it a push and slipped into the hallway, ignoring his protests. I went straight to the lift. The porter tried to stop me by grabbing hold of my arm, but I threw him a look that quickly dissuaded him.

When Valera’s secretary opened the door, her expression rapidly changed from surprise to fear, especially when I stuck my foot in the gap to make sure she didn’t slam the door in my face and went in without being invited.

“Let the lawyer know I’m here,” I said. “Now.”

The secretary looked at me, her face completely white.

I took her by the elbow and pushed her into the lawyer’s office. The lights were on, but there was no trace of Valera. The terrified secretary sobbed, and I realized that I was digging my fingers into her arm. I let go and she retreated a few steps. She was shaking. I sighed and tried to make some sort of calming gesture that only served to reveal the gun tucked into the waistband of my trousers.

“Please, Señor Martín. I swear that Señor Valera isn’t here.”

“I believe you. Calm down. I only want to talk to him. That’s all.”

The secretary nodded. I smiled at her.

“Please be so kind as to pick up the telephone and call him at home,” I said firmly.

The secretary lifted the receiver and murmured the lawyer’s number to the operator. When she got a reply she handed me the phone.

“Good evening,” I ventured.

“Martín, what an unfortunate surprise,” said Valera at the other end of the line. “May I know what you’re doing in my office at this time of night, aside from terrorizing my employees?”