The Silent and the Damned aka The Vanished Hands

On the way down from Calderon's office Falcon took a call from Elvira, who had just spoken to his boss, Comisario Lobo, and between them they'd decided that Falcon should run the investigation into Montes's suicide. Falcon asked Elvira if he could supply a good and responsive FBI contact who would help with the identification of Rafael Vega, and reminded him about the prison director.

In the car he called Carlos Vazquez and after being kept waiting for some minutes was told that he was out. The lawyer's offices were just up the road from the Edificio de los Juzgados. They decided to make an unscheduled visit.

'What's up with Juez Calderon?' asked Ramirez as they got into the car. 'We're not going to see a search warrant with his mind in that state.'

'I think he might have met his match,' said Falcon.

'La Americana's fucked his brains out?' said Ramirez.

'It might be a bit more serious than that.'

'She's done that to him?' said Ramirez incredulous. 'I thought Juez Calderon was more experienced than that.'

'Than what?'

'To fall down on rule number one,' said Ramirez 'and to fall down on it before he's even got married.'

'What's rule number one?'

'Don't get involved,' said Ramirez. 'That's the way to fuck up your entire life.'

'Well, he's involved and all we can do is…'

'Sit and watch,' said Ramirez, clapping his hands as if he was about to watch his favourite soap opera.

'Montes told me there were plenty of people who wanted to see Juez Calderon fall from grace.'

'Who?' said Ramirez, face bland with innocence, fingers to his chest. 'Me?'

They went up in the lift, Ramirez staring at the numbers of the floors as they lit up. His shoulders were humped up like the neck muscles of a wild bull.

'This time, Javier, I lead, you follow,' he said, and they stormed out of the lift straight past the receptionist, who held up a single purple talon in an attempt to stop them.

They did the same to Vazquez's secretary, who followed them into her boss's office. Vazquez was drinking water from a plastic cup and standing by the dispenser looking out of the window.

'In a murder investigation,' said Ramirez, in a voice full of pent-up rage. 'You never refuse to talk to the Inspector Jefe unless you want all kinds of shit to come down on your head.'

Vazquez looked pugnacious enough to square off against Ramirez, but even he could see that the Inspector was up for anything, including violence. He waved the secretary out.

'What do you want?'

'First question,' said Ramirez. 'Look into my eyes and tell me what you know about Emilio Cruz.'

Vazquez looked blank. The name meant nothing to him. They sat down.

'What provision did Sr Vega make for the running of his company in the event of his death?' asked Falcon.

'As you know, each project had Sr Vega, a company representative and an investor on the board. In the event of his death the projects would be managed by the remaining company representative, with the proviso that all financial and legal decisions be referred to a temporary board in the holding company, consisting of myself, Sr Dourado and Sr Nieves, who is the senior architect.'

'How long would this temporary state of affairs last?'

'Until a suitable director for the company was found.'

'Whose job is it to find such a person?'

'The temporary board.'

'Who do the clients refer to?'

'The temporary board.'

'And who would get the initial phone call?'

'Me.'

'So when did the Russians contact you?' asked Ramirez.

'They haven't.'

'Look, Sr Vazquez, it's been nearly a week since Sr Vega died,' said Ramirez, conspiratorial, friendly. 'There's a lot of money in those Russian projects, which are unmanaged. Do you really expect us to believe -'

'They're not unmanaged. They've still got the company representative looking after them.'

'Who is?'

'Sr Krugman, the architect.'

'That's a good choice,' said Falcon. 'The outsider.'

'Who does Sr Krugman get his instructions from?'

'He hasn't received any from me because I haven't heard from the client. He is just carrying on with the project.'

'So, after Sr Vega's death who told the illegal labour not to show?' asked Ramirez.

'What illegal labour?'

'We can physically wring this stuff out of you, if you'd prefer,' said Ramirez. 'Or you could talk to us like a normal, law-abiding human being.'

'Are you scared, Sr Vazquez?' asked Falcon.

'Scared?' said Vazquez, asking himself, hands clasped, knuckles blanching, especially around the gold signet ring on his third finger. 'Why should I be scared?'

'Have you been told not to talk to us on pain of something nasty happening to you or your family?'

'No.'

'All right, we'll go to the town hall and file a report on these two projects,' said Ramirez. 'The fact that illegal labour has been used should be enough.'

'There's no illegal labour.'

'That sounds as if you're in touch with these projects.'

'I am,' said Vazquez. 'You told me about illegal labour being used last week. I made my inquiries. There is no illegal labour being used.'

'And the two sets of books for each project that we saw in Vega Construcciones offices last week?'

'There's only one set of books.'

'Not according to Sr Dourado,' said Ramirez.

'That's not what he told me,' said Vazquez.

'The Russians have been busy.'

On the way back to the Jefatura they stopped off in Vega Construcciones offices and asked Sr Dourado about the two sets of books. He had no recollection of the discovery of an alternative set of books in Vega's computer system. Even when Ramirez threatened him with a warrant his smile didn't waver. He welcomed the search.

Falcon and Ramirez drifted down the office corridors in silence, all purpose gone from this aspect of their investigation.

'We played this very badly,' said Falcon. 'We trusted these people too much.'

'Dourado was going to help us. I know it. I was there. I saw the printouts. He talked me through them. I should have taken a fucking copy.'

'He didn't look scared to me,' said Falcon. 'Vazquez seemed scared, but Dourado looked cheerful.'

'They know what they're doing, these Russians,' said Ramirez. 'Vazquez thinks he's in charge, so they get him by the balls and squeeze hard. With Golden Boy, they need his knowledge of the computer system, so they tickle his.'

Falcon tried not to allow these images to infect his imagination. He said he'd go and talk to Krugman while Ramirez went back to the Jefatura and pushed Elvira to make FBI contact.

Krugman was standing at his office window, looking out through a pair of binoculars. Falcon knocked. Krugman beckoned him in. The man seemed strangely energized, his eyes were bright, pupils dilated and sparkling.

'You're still running your Russian projects,' said Falcon.