‘That’s where I get lost. Help me, Daniel. If Fermín thought up a false identity once, why can’t he make up another one now to get married with?’
‘For two reasons, Professor. The first is purely practical and that is, whether he uses his name or another invented one, currently Fermín does not possess any legal identity. Therefore, whatever identity he decides to use must be created from scratch.’
‘But he wants to continue being Fermín, I suppose.’
‘Exactly. And that is the second reason, which is not practical but spiritual, so to speak, and far more important. Fermín wants to continue being Fermín because that is the person Bernarda has fallen in love with, the man who is our friend, the one we all know and the one he wants to be. The person he used to be hasn’t existed for years. It’s a skin he sloughed off. Not even I, who am probably his best friend, know what name he was given when he was christened. For me, and for all those who love him, and especially for himself, he is Fermín Romero de Torres. And when you think of it, if it’s a question of creating a new identity for him, why not create his present one?’
Professor Alburquerque finally nodded in assent.
‘Correct,’ he pronounced.
‘So, do you think this is feasible, Professor?’
‘Well, it’s a quixotic mission if ever there was one,’ considered the professor. ‘How to endow the gaunt knight Don Fermín de la Mancha with lineage, greyhound and a sheaf of false documents with which to pair him off with his beautiful Bernarda del Toboso in the eyes of God and the register office?’
‘I’ve been thinking about it and consulting legal books,’ I said. ‘In this country, a person’s identity begins with a birth certificate, which, when you stop to consider, is a very simple document.’
The professor raised his eyebrows.
‘What you’re suggesting is delicate. Not to say a serious crime.’
‘Unprecedented in fact, at least in the judicial annals. I’ve verified it.’
‘Have you? Please continue, this is getting better.’
‘Let’s suppose that someone, hypothetically speaking, had access to the offices of the Civil Registry and could, to put it bluntly, plant a birth certificate in the archives … Wouldn’t that provide sufficient grounds to establish a person’s identity?’
The professor shook his head.
‘Perhaps for a newborn child. But if we’re speaking, hypothetically, of an adult, we’d have to create an entire documentary history. And even if you had access, hypothetically, to the archives, where would you get hold of those documents?’
‘Let’s say I was able to create a series of credible facsimiles. Would you think it possible then?’
The professor considered the matter carefully.
‘The main risk would be that someone uncovers the fraud and wants to bring it to light. Bearing in mind that in this case the so-called accuser who could have spilled the beans regarding documental irregularities is deceased, the problem would boil down to a), being able to gain access to the archives and introduce a file into the system with a fictitious but plausible identity and b), generating the whole string of documents required to establish that identity. I’m talking about papers of all shapes and sizes, and all sorts of certificates including certificates of baptism from parish churches, identity cards …’
‘With regard to point a), I understand that you’re writing a series of articles on the marvels of the Spanish legal system, commissioned by the Council for a report on that institution. I’ve been looking into it a little and discovered that during the war, a number of archives in the Civil Registry were bombed. That means that hundreds, even thousands, of identities must have been reconstructed any old how. I’m no expert, but I imagine that this would open a gap or two which someone well informed, well connected and with a plan could take advantage of …’
The professor looked at me out of the corner of his eye.
‘I see you’ve been doing s
ome serious research, Daniel.’
‘Forgive me, Professor, but Fermín’s happiness is worth that and much more.’
‘And it does you credit. But it could also earn whoever attempted to do such a thing a heavy sentence if he was caught red handed.’
‘That’s why I thought that if someone, hypothetically, had access to one of those reconstructed archives in the Civil Registry, he could take a helper along with him who would, so to speak, assume the more risky part of the operation.’
‘If that were the case, the hypothetical helper would have to be able to guarantee the facilitator a twenty per cent lifelong discount on the price of any book bought at Sempere & Sons. Plus an invitation to the wedding of the newborn.’
‘That’s a done deal. And I’d even raise that to twenty-five per cent. Although, come to think of it, I know someone who, hypothetically, would be prepared to collaborate pro bono, just for the pleasure of scoring a goal against a rotten, corrupt regime, receiving nothing in exchange.’
‘I’m an academic, Daniel. Emotional blackmail doesn’t work with me.’
‘For Fermín, then.’