• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

"A ma do ri."

Did Norberto hear? Did he understand?

"City chur church."

"Adolfo, lie quietly," Norberto said. "I've telephoned for a doctor-oh. God."

Norberto continued saying a prayer.

"Warn Gen er al they know "

Norberto laid a hand on his brother's lips to silence them. Adolfo smiled weakly. His brother's hand was soft and loving. The pain seemed to subside.

And then his head rolled to the side and his eyes shut and the pain was gone.

* * *

EIGHTEEN

Tuesday, 4:19 a.m.

San Sebastián, Spain

The helicopter set María and Aideen down south of the city. It landed atop a hillock along a deserted twist in the Rio Urumea, the river that ran through the city. A rental car, reserved by a local police officer who worked with Interpol, was waiting for them near the road. So was the police officer, thick mustachioed Jorge Sorel.

During the helicopter trip, María had studied a map she'd brought with her. She knew the route to the radio station and Aideen could tell that she was anxious to get there. Unfortunately, as María lit a cigarette, Jorge told her there was no reason to go.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Someone attacked the staff a little over an hour ago," he said.

"Someone?" María said. "Who?"

"We don't know yet," admitted the officer.

"Professionals?" she said impatiently.

"Very possibly," he acknowledged. "The attackers seemed to know exactly what they were doing. There were numerous broken limbs and everyone had a broken jaw."

"What did they want?" María asked.

Jorge shook his head. "Again, we can't even begin to speculate. The only reason we went up there was because the station suddenly went off the air."

María swore angrily. "This is maravilloso," she said. "Marvelous. Are there any leads?"

Jorge was still shaking his head. "The victims were unable to speak and now the doctors have them sedated. We assume the attackers were looking for whoever provided them with the audiotape."

"The idiots," María snarled. "Didn't they anticipate that? Didn't they take precautions?"

"Yes," said Jorge. "The irony is they were very well prepared. The station has always been a target for malcontents. Their politics, you know-very antigovemment. The facility is surrounded with barbed wire and is constructed like a bunker. It even has a metal door. The employees keep guns inside. But deterrents only sway the timid hearted. And these attackers were not timid."

"Constable," Aideen said patiently, "do you have any idea who it was that provided the tape?"

Jorge snuck an uncomfortable look at María. "I'm afraid the answer is once again no," he said. "We have two patrols going through the surrounding villages. They're looking for groups of people who may be searching for the person or persons who provided the tape. But we came to this relatively late. So far, we've found no one."

"The attackers would probably separate once they left here," María said. "They wouldn't want to risk everyone getting caught. They also wouldn't stay together after they found whoever they were looking for," María said. She drew on her cigarette and exhaled through her nose. She regarded Jorge intently. "Are you sure that's all you can tell us?"

"I'm sure," he replied. His gaze was equally intent.

"What are the chances that the person who had the tape was from this area?" Aideen asked.

"Very good," said María. "Whoever planned this would have wanted someone who knew the waters where the yacht was destroyed. Someone who knew the town and the people at the station." She looked at Jorge. "Give me a place to start looking."

Jorge shrugged. "The town is small. Everyone knows it. For someone who knows the waters, talk to the fishermen."

María looked at her watch. "They'll be going out in about an hour. We can talk to them at the docks." She pulled hard on her cigarette. "Who blesses the waters for the fishermen?"

"That would be Father Norberto Alcazar," Jorge said. "He will only do it for the old families, not the companies."