At the Jefatura he went straight to Felipe and Jorge in the laboratory and gave them a twist of newspaper that contained a small quantity of the ground substance from the urn he’d found at home. He asked them to identify the material.
Ramirez and the rest of the group were waiting in the office. Ramirez was handing round the list he’d extracted from the artists’ names he’d found in Salgado’s office. There were over forty names on the list, divided into three levels of probability.
‘There’s a lot of names here,’ said Falcon.
‘They’re not just Salgado’s clients or his rejects,’ said Ramirez. ‘Greta put this together, it’s a list of anybody in the Seville area who’s been involved in the art world using film, video or high technology. She’s started on a list for Madrid, too.’
Ramirez handed over six sheets of paper, which Falcon put on the desk. He saw a letter there addressed to him; he ignored it.
‘I think you should work in pairs on this,’ said Falcon. ‘He could be dangerous and he might be expecting a visit from us … if he’s on this list. We’re looking for a male, about 1.80 metres tall and about 70 kilos in weight with a dark complexion. He could have foreign blood in him, possibly North African. He has knowledge of French and might have had a French education at some stage, although he is Spanish and speaks it perfectly. The most important identifying mark at this stage is a bite wound to the forefinger of the right hand and possibly grazed or bruised knuckles on his left hand.’
Falcon held up the evidence sachet with the ring in it.
‘This was found in the waste-disposal unit of the sink in Salgado’s house. It’s a woman’s ring, which has been enlarged to fit a small man’s finger. The silver used to enlarge the ring is low grade, possibly of North African origin. This does not mean we are looking exclusively for a North African male. He is quite possibly naturalized Spanish and from some generations ago. Keep an open mind on this. I don’t want any racial harassment complaints. Inspector Ramirez will divide up the list and give you your assignments.’
Ramirez took the men into the outer office. Falcon opened the letter on his desk, which was an appointment to see Dr David Rato in the Jefatura at 9.30 a.m. He called Ramirez back in and asked who this doctor was.
‘He’s the police psychologist,’ said Ramirez.
‘He wants to see me.’
‘Probably just a routine assessment.’
‘I’ve never had one before.’
‘Officers in high-stress situations get given them,’ said Ramirez. ‘I had one after shooting a suspect dead three years ago.’
‘I haven’t shot anybody.’
Ramirez shrugged. Falcon reminded him about the meeting with Juez Calderon at midday. Ramirez left, taking the rest of the group with him. Falcon called Lobo, whose secretary said he was out for the day. Sweat trickled from the high point of his forehead. He clamped a handkerchief to his head as if it was a wound. Damn this leaking, he thought. His palms moistened. He went to the bathroom, washed his hands and face, and took an Orfidal.
The psychologist’s office was in some unvisited part of the Jefatura on the second floor with a different view of the car park. He was called in immediately. They shook hands and sat down. The psychologist was in his early fifties and wore a charcoal-grey suit with a waistcoat. There was a single sheet of paper on the desk in front of him.
‘I don’t think I’ve been to a police psychologist before,’ said Falcon.
‘What about the two times in Barcelona?’ asked the doctor.
Panic swept through him. He’d walked straight into a memory blank. Twice in Barcelona?
‘You investigated a car bombing in which the twelve-year-old daughter of a politician was killed and there was a shooting in a lawyer’s office which left a mother of three dead.’
‘Sorry, of course, I meant since I’d been in Seville.’
The doctor gave him a physical examination, which included weighing him and taking his blood pressure. He resumed his seat behind the desk.
‘Why am I here?’ asked Falcon.
‘You’re handling a very difficult case with some gruesome details to the murders.’
‘I’ve seen worse,’ he lied.
‘Everybody in the Jefatura thinks it’s one of the worst cases ever.’
‘In Seville,’ said Falcon. ‘I was in Madrid before I came here.’
‘You’re five kilos under your normal weight.’
‘Cases like this use up a lot of nervous energy.’
‘In those two cases you looked after in Barcelona you weighed in at 79 kilos. Now you’re 74 kilos.’
‘I haven’t been eating regularly.’
‘You mean, since you separated from your wife?’
A small abyss opened up as Falcon realized how many factors might be taken into consideration.
‘My housekeeper cooks meals for me. I just haven’t found time to consume them, that’s all.’
‘Your blood pressure is high. At your age I would expect it to be above your normal 12/7 but you’re 14/8.5, which is borderline, and you look hollow-eyed. Are you sleeping well?’
