“I did it because I thought I was helping you, Don Pedro.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“Forgive me,” I murmured.
“You must leave the city. There’s a cargo ship moored in the San Sebastián dock that sets sail tonight. It’s all arranged. Ask for Captain Olmo. He’s expecting you. Take one of the cars from the garage. You can leave it at the port. Pep will fetch it tomorrow. Don’t speak to anyone. Don’t go back to your house. You’ll need money.”
“I have enough money,” I lied.
“There’s never enough. When you disembark in Marseilles, Olmo will go with you to a bank and will give you fifty thousand francs.”
“Don Pedro—”
“Listen to me. Those two men that Grandes says you’ve killed …”
“Marcos and Castelo. I think they worked for your father, Don Pedro.”
Vidal shook his head.
“My father and his lawyers only ever deal with the top people, David. How do you think those two knew where to find you thirty minutes after you left the police station?”
A cold feeling of certainty washed over me.
“Through my friend Inspector Víctor Grandes.”
Vidal agreed.
“Grandes let you go because he didn’t want to dirty his hands in the police station. As soon as he got you out of there, his two men were on your trail. Your death was to read like a telegram: Escaping murder suspect dies while resisting arrest.”
“Just like the old days on the news,” I said.
“Some things never change, David. You should know better than anyone.”
He opened his wardrobe and handed me a brand new coat. I accepted it and p
ut the book in the inside pocket. Vidal smiled at me.
“For once in your life you’re well dressed.”
“It suited you better, Don Pedro.”
“That goes without saying.”
“Don Pedro, there are a lot of things …”
“They don’t matter anymore, David. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I owe you much more than an explanation.”
“Then tell me about her.”
Vidal looked at me with desperate eyes that begged me to lie to him. We sat in the sitting room, facing the French windows with their view over the whole of Barcelona, and I lied to him with all my heart. I told him that Cristina had rented a small attic in Paris, in Rue de Soufflot, under the name of Madame Vidal, and had said that she’d wait for me every day, in the middle of the afternoon, by the fountain in the Luxembourg Gardens. I told him that she spoke about him constantly, that she would never forget him, and that I knew that however many years I spent by her side I’d never be able to fill the void he had left. Don Pedro’s gaze was lost in the distance.
“You must promise me you’ll look after her, David. That you’ll never leave her. Whatever happens, you’ll stay by her side.”
“I promise, Don Pedro.”