'None from that project, but there's always a certain amount of churn in the sales teams. It's hard work with demanding targets. We pay well, but we expect results. A lot of young guys think they can handle the pressure, but they burn out, or lose their drive. It's a young person's business. There are no sales reps over thirty.'
'You're telling me you didn't lose anybody when you showed them that apartment in El Cerezo?'
'We're not stupid, Inspector Jefe,' said Torres. 'We gave them a sweetener. The idea was that they should take the brainstorming seriously. We put them in a place outside their normal environment, with no distractions, not even a decent cafe to go to, so that they would concentrate on the task. They went in pairs and we swapped the people around. They were told it was a finite project, three months maximum, and they wouldn't have to spend more than four hours at a time in the apartment. They were also told that they would be a part of any of their projects which received board approval.'
'Was that the sweetener?'
'We're not that tough on them,' said Torres. 'The sweetener was a fully paid break in a beach hotel, with golf and tennis, during the Feria-and they wouldn't have to do any work. We let them bring their girlfriends, too.'
'And boyfriends?'
Torres blinked, as if that little comment had short-circuited something in his brain. Falcon thought Torres might be inferring something 'inappropriate' from his remark until he remembered that only men had been seen going into the apartment.
'You do employ women, don't you, Sr Torres?'
'The receptionist who showed you in here is…'
'How do you recruit, Sr Torres?'
'We advertise at business schools and through recruitment agencies.'
'Give me some names and telephone numbers,' said Falcon, handing him his notebook. 'How many people have you fired in the last year?'
'None.'
'Two years?'
'None. We don't fire people. They leave.'
'It's cheaper that way,' said Falcon. 'I'd like a list of all the people who have left your employ in the last year, and I'd also like the names and addresses of all the men who frequented that apartment in Calle Los Romeros.'
'Why?'
'We have to know whether they saw anything while they were there, especially in the last week.'
'It might not be so easy for you to interview my sales reps.'
'You'll have to make it easy. We're looking for people who are responsible for the deaths of four children and five adults…so far. And the first forty-eight hours of an investigation are critical.'
'When would you like to start?'
'Two members of my squad will begin contacting your sales reps as soon as you've given me their names and phone numbers,' said Falcon. 'And why, by the way, did you insist on your employees being there in the hours of daylight?'
'Those are the hours they work anyway. They sell from nine in the morning until eight at night while businesses are open. Then there's the paperwork, team meetings, course studies, product information classes. Twelve-hour days are the short ones.'
'Let me have a list with addresses and phone numbers of all the board members, too.'
'Now?'
'Along with those other lists I asked for,' said Falcon. 'I am busy, too, Sr Torres. So if you could bring them to me in the next ten minutes it would be appreciated.'
Torres stood and went to shake Falcon's hand.
'I'd like you to bring me the lists, Sr Torres'' said Falcon. 'I'll have more questions by then.'
Torres left. Falcon went to the toilet; there was an electronic plaque above each urinal, which streamed quotes from the Bible and inspirational business maxims. Informaticalidad extracted the best out of its employees by embracing them in a culture not unlike a religious sect.
The receptionist was waiting for him outside the toilets. It looked as if she'd been sent to make sure he didn't roam too freely around the corridors, despite all the offices being controlled by security key pads. She took him back to Torres, who was waiting with the lists.
'Is Informaticalidad part of a holding company?' asked Falcon.
'We're in the high-technology division of a Spanish company based in Madrid called Horizonte. They are owned by a US investment company called I4IT.'
'Who are they?'
'Who knows?' said Torres. 'The I4 bit is Indianapolis Investment Interests Incorporated and IT is Information Technology. I think they started out investing only in Hi-Tech, but they're broader based than that now.'
Torres walked him back to reception.
'How many ideas and projects did your reps come up with while they were in Calle Los Romeros?'
'Fifteen ideas, which have already been incorporated into our working practices, and four projects which are still in the planning stage.'
'Have you ever heard of a website called www.vomit.org?'
'Never,' said Torres, and let the door slowly close.
Back in his car Falcon checked his mobiles for calls. Informaticalidad's building, a steel cage covered in tinted glass, reflected its surroundings. On top of the building were four banners with company logos: Informaticalidad, Quirurgicalidad, Ecograficalidad and finally a slightly larger placard featuring a huge pair of spectacles with a horizon running through them and above, the word Optivision. High technology, robotic surgical instruments, ultrasound machines and laser equipment for correcting visual defects. This company had access to the internal workings of the body. They could see inside you, remove and implant things and make sure you saw the world the way they saw it. It disturbed Falcon.
12
Seville-Tuesday, 6th June 2006, 15.45 hrs
As Falcon pulled away, car rippling along the glass facade of the building, he put a call through to Mark Flowers, who was euphemistically known as a Communications Officer in the US Consulate in Seville. He was a CIA operative who, after 9/11, had been pulled out of retirement, posted to Madrid and transferred to Seville. Falcon had met him during an investigation back in 2002. They had stayed in touch, or rather Falcon had become one of Flowers' sources and, in return, received intelligence and a more direct and proactive line to the FBI.
'Returning your call, Mark,' said Falcon.
'We should talk.'
'Have you got anything for me?'
'Nothing. It came out of the blue. I'm working on stuff.'
'Can you get some information for me on a company called I4IT, that's Indianapolis Investment Interests Incorporated in Information Technology.'
'Sure,' said Flowers. 'When can we meet?'
'Tonight. Late. Our people want to 'interview' me,' said Falcon. 'If you come afterwards you might be able to give me some advice.'
'Falcon hung up. The radio news gave its latest summary of events: a group called the Martires Islamicos para la Liberacion de Andalucia had called both TVE and RNE to claim responsibility for the attack. El Corte Ingles had been evacuated and there was a stampede in the Calle Tetuan because of a bomb scare. All roads out of Seville, especially the motorway south towards Jerez de la Frontera, were jammed with traffic.
Falcon had to resist the image of a vast dust cloud on the outskirts of Seville, thick with panicked cattle beneath.
As he drove back across the river his mobile vibrated; Ramirez wanting to know where he was.
