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

mountain edge. The priests had all clustered on one side, ready to enjoy the evening views over Barcelona and ignore whatever murky business had brought Grandes and me together in that place. The inspector sidled over and showed me the gun he had in his hand. Large reddish clouds hung over the water of the port. The cable car sank into one of them and for a moment it felt as if we had plunged into a lake of fire.

“Have you ever been on this before?” Grandes asked.

I nodded.

“My daughter loves it. Once a month she asks me to take her on a return trip. A bit expensive, but it’s worth it.”

“With the amount of money old Señor Vidal is paying you for my head, I’m sure you’ll be able to bring your daughter here every day, if you feel like it. Simple curiosity: what price did he put on me?”

Grandes smiled. The cable car emerged from the crimson cloud and we found ourselves suspended over the port, with the lights of the city spilling over its dark waters.

“Fifteen thousand pesetas,” he replied, patting a white envelope that peeped out of his coat pocket.

“I suppose I should feel flattered. Some people would kill for two duros. Does that include the price of betraying your two men?”

“Let me remind you that the only person who has killed anyone here is you.”

By now the four priests were watching us with expressions of shock and concern, oblivious to the delights of the vertiginous flight over the city. Grandes gave them a cursory glance.

“When we reach the first stop, if it’s not too much to ask, I’d be grateful if Your Eminences would get off and allow us to discuss a few mundane matters.”

The tower on the docks of Barcelona port rose before us like a cupola of steel with great metal threads wrenched from a mechanical cathedral. The cable car entered the dome and stopped at the platform. When the door opened, the four priests hastened out. Grandes, gun in hand, told me to go to the far end of the cabin. One of the priests looked at me anxiously as he got off.

“Don’t worry, young man, we’ll call the police,” he said, just before the door closed.

“Yes, please do!” replied Grandes.

Once the door was locked, the cable car resumed its course. We emerged from the tower and started on the last stage of the crossing. Grandes went over to the window and gazed at the view of the city, a fantasy of lights and mist, cathedrals and palaces, alleyways and wide avenues woven into a labyrinth of shadows.

“The city of the damned,” said Grandes. “The farther away you are, the prettier it looks.”

“Is that my epitaph?”

“I’m not going to kill you, Martín. I don’t kill people. You’re going to do that for me. As a favor. For me and for yourself. You know I’m right.”

Saying no more, the inspector fired three shots at the locking mechanism of the door and kicked it open. The door was left hanging in the air and a blast of damp wind filled the cabin.

“You won’t feel anything, Martín. Believe me. The impact will take only a tenth of a second. It’s instant. And then, peace.”

I gazed at the door. A fall of over seventy meters into the void opened up before me. I looked at the tower of San Sebastián and reckoned there were still a few minutes to go before we would arrive. Grandes read my thoughts.

“Soon it will all be over, Martín. You should be grateful to me.”

“Do you really think I killed all those people, Inspector?”

Grandes raised his revolver and pointed it at my heart.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

“I thought we were friends.”

He muttered in disagreement.

“You don’t have any friends, Martín.”

I heard the roar of the shot and felt a blow to my chest, as if I’d been hit in the ribs with a jackhammer. I fell on my back, unable to breathe, a spasm of pain spreading through my body like petrol on fire. Grandes had grabbed my feet and was pulling me toward the door. The top of the tower of San Sebastián appeared between veils of cloud. Grandes stepped over my body and knelt behind me, then started pushing me by my shoulders. I felt the cold air on my legs. Grandes gave another push and my legs slid over the edge. The pull of gravity was instant. I was beginning to fall.

I stretched out my arms toward the policeman and dug my fingers into his neck. Anchored by the weight of my body, the inspector was trapped and couldn’t move from the doorway. I pressed with all my might, pushing on his windpipe, squeezing the arteries in his neck. He struggled to free himself from my grip with one hand while the other groped about for his gun. Finally his fingers found the trigger. The shot grazed my temple and hit the doorframe, but the bullet bounced back into the cabin and went clean through his hand. I sunk my nails deeper into his neck, feeling his skin yield. Grandes groaned. Using all the strength I had left, I managed to get more than half my body back inside the car. Once I was able to grab hold of the metal walls, I let go of Grandes and threw myself away from him.