because he wore a black string vest, a pair of running shorts and sandals.
'The only problem with this place is that it gets very hot in the summer,' he said.
They drank coffee. Covo didn't volunteer any more information. He studied Falcon's face, eyes flicking up and down, side to side. He nodded, smoked, drank his coffee. Falcon did not feel uneasy. He was glad to have a respite from the madness of the world outside in the company of this strange individual.
'We're all unique,' said Covo, after some minutes, 'and yet remarkably the same.'
'There are types,' said Falcon. 'I've noticed that.'
'The only problem is that we live in a part of Europe where there has been a lot of genetic exchange. So that, for instance, you will find the Berber genetic marker e3b both in North Africa and on the Iberian peninsula,' said Covo. 'Much as we'd like to, we're not going to be able to tell you where exactly your corpse comes from, other than that he is either Spanish or North African.'
'That's already something,' said Falcon. 'How did you find the genetic marker?'
'Dr Pintado has been calling in some favours from the labs,' said Covo. 'Your corpse has good teeth. You already know that he's had corrective work to make them straight; expensive and unusual for someone of his generation. The work was not done in Spain.'
'You've been very thorough.'
'I presumed that this man's death has something to do with the bomb, so I have been working hard and fast,' said Covo. 'The important thing is to work out how this affects the shape of the face and the overall effect of good teeth is impressive. Hair is also important, head and facial.'
'You think he was bearded?'
'The job they did with the acid was not as thorough as it could have been. I'm certain he was bearded, but that presents other problems. How did he keep it? All I can say is that it wasn't long and shaggy. The teeth perhaps indicate a man who cared about his appearance.'
'And he kept his hair long.'
'Yes, and he had high cheekbones,' said Covo. 'A prominent nose-part of the septum was still intact. I think we're talking about a rather striking individual, which was why they probably went to such lengths to destroy his features.'
'I'm surprised they didn't smash up his teeth.'
'They would have had to extract each one to make sure. It was probably too time-consuming,' said Covo. 'Let me show you what I've done.'
Covo stubbed out his Ducado after a last long drag and they went into the studio. Lights came on in certain areas. In the centre of the room was a block of stone from which a number of faces were emerging. They all gave the impression of struggle, as if they were inside the rock and nosing out into the world, desperate to be free from the stultifying substance. Around the walls, in the gloom, were the spectators. Hundreds of heads, some in clay, others frighteningly real in wax.
'I don't let many people in here,' said Covo. 'They get spooked.'
'By the silence, I imagine,' said Falcon. 'One would expect so many faces to be expressing themselves.'
'It reminds people too much of death,' said Covo. 'My talent is not artistic. I am a craftsman. I can recreate a face, but I cannot give it life. They are inanimate, without the motivation of soul. I embalm people in wax and clay.'
'The faces coming out of the rock seem animated to me,' said Falcon.
'I think I've started to feel the restraint of my own mortality,' said Covo. 'Let me show you our friend.'
To the right of the block of stone was a table with what looked like four heads under a sheet.
'I made up four copies of his faceless head,' said Covo. 'Then I made a series of sketches of how I thought he looked. Finally, I started to build.'
He lifted the sheet off the first head. It had no nose, mouth or ears.
'Here I'm trying to get the feeling for how much skin and fat would cover the bones,' said Covo. 'I've looked at the whole body and estimated the extent of his covering.'
He lifted the sheet off the next two heads.
'Here I've been working with the features, trying to fit the nose, mouth, ears and eyes together on the face,' said Covo. 'The third one, as you've probably noticed, is more decisive. Once I've reached this stage I do more sketches, working with hair and colour. This fourth figure I made last night. I painted him and attached the hair just this morning. It's my best guess.'
The sheet slipped off to reveal a head with brown eyes, long lashes, aquiline nose, sharp cheekbones, but with the cheeks themselves slightly sunken. The beard was clipped close to the skin, the hair long, dark and flowing and the teeth white and perfect.
'I'm only worried that I may have got carried away,' said Covo, 'and made him too dashing.'
Falcon took photographs, while Covo made a selection from the sketches of other possible looks. By 11 a.m. Falcon was heading back across the river to the Jefatura. He had the sketches scanned and the image of the victim transferred to the computer. He called Pintado and asked him to email the dental X-rays. He put together a page with the corpse's approximate age, height and weight, the information about the hernia op, tattoos and skull fracture. He called Pablo, who gave him the email address of the right man in the CNI in Madrid who would distribute it to all other intelligence agencies, the FBI and Interpol.
Ramirez called just as he was leaving.
'I've spoken to the vascular surgeon at the hospital,' he said. 'He's identified the hernia mesh taken from the body as one known by the trade name SURUMESH, made by Suru International Ltd of Mumbai in India.'
'Does he use them?'
'For inguinal hernias he uses a German make called TiMESH.'
'You're learning stuff, Jose Luis.'
'I'm completely fascinated,' said Ramirez, drily. 'He tells me Suru International would probably supply hospitals through medical supplies wholesalers.'
'I'll speak to Pablo. The CNI can get a list from Suru International.'
'Then they've got to contact the hospitals supplied by those wholesalers. It's quite possible that a hospital takes meshes made by a number of different manufacturers. Then there are the specialist hernia clinics. This is going to take time.'
'We're moving on a lot of fronts,' said Falcon. 'I have a face to work with now. We have dental X-rays. I'm thinking more about America. He had orthodontic work done-'
'Most inguinal hernias occur over the age of forty,' said Ramirez. 'Dr Pintado estimates the guy's hernia op as three years old. So we're only looking at, say, the last four, maximum five years of hernia operations. Maybe two and a half million ops worldwide.'
'Keep thinking positively, Jose Luis.'
'I'll see you next year.'
Falcon told him about the meeting with Juez del Rey at midday and hung up. He sent another email about Suru International to his contact in the CNI. He got up to leave again. His personal mobile vibrated, no name came up on the screen. He took the call anyway.
'Diga,' he said.
'It's me, Consuelo.'
He sat down slowly, thinking, my God. His stomach leapt, his blood came alive. His heart beat loudly in his head.
'It's been a long time,' he said.
'I saw the news about Ines,' she said. 'I wanted to tell you how sorry I am and to let you know that I'm thinking of you. I know you must be very busy…so I won't keep you.'
'Thank you, Consuelo,' he said, willing something else to come to mind. 'It's good to hear your voice again. When I saw you in the street…'
'I'm sorry for that, too,' she said. 'It couldn't be helped.'
He didn't know what that meant. He needed something to keep her on the phone. Nothing seemed relevant. His mind was too full of the corpse, hernia meshes and two and a half million ops world-wide.
'I should let you go,' she said. 'You must be under a lot of pressure.'
'It was good of you to call.'
