Clandestine Affairs 5, cont.
It was maybe two hours into the next day's surveillance when Villa checked his watch and looked at David. David nodded.
"Back later, Fàbregas," Villa said. The door closed behind him.
"Huh?" Cesc said. He looked at David, but David shook his head. He'd said enough the day before: far more than he ever meant to.
"He'll be back," he said instead.
He could see the progress of Cesc debating whether or not to push and deciding against it. "I'll take the feeds if you want," Cesc said finally.
David left the monitor to Cesc and went back to his laptop to check the results of his daily searches. A British activist group was starting to get wind of the fact that the London suspects were being held without any movement toward trial. One of David's hands worked itself into his hair. The Metropolitan police had been a useful shield for their involvement, but the longer they went without progress the more they risked the story getting out. More attention was the last thing they needed. David rubbed a hand over his face and clicked over to his email
He stiffened. There, at the top of his inbox, was a message from van Nistelrooy.
David opened it. It was addressed to Villa, cc'ed to David.
Villa:
Excuse the delay in my response. I'm sure you've heard about the incident with the London bureau; as a former London agent I was subject to restricted communication within the agency for the past several days.
Re: the investigation into Roman Abramovich's holding corporation, I strongly believe Abramovich or his subordinates succeeded in concealing their personal involvement, on behalf of the corporation, in the "accidental" death of a business rival. However, as my report indicated, there was essentially no evidence in my favor so the case was eventually dismissed. I've authorized the release of all subsidiary documentation from the London office if it's of interest.
Whether this has any bearing on your question, I'm not sure. While Abramovich has been previously linked to certain Eastern European criminal bosses, I'm not aware of any involvement with the Moggi syndicate. If you'd like my personal opinion, I strongly doubt a man like Abramovich would put himself in a position to be held accountable-or indebted-to anyone of Moggi's power.
Contact me if you need more information.
R. van Nistelrooy
David leaned back in the chair, fighting an irrational plunge of disappointment. He hadn't realized how much he'd been secretly hoping van Nistelrooy would provide some kind of key to the whole mystery, unlikely as it would have been. This was a weak lead at best-and yet not so weak that he could ignore it.
He glanced across the table. Cesc was filling out the week's match predictions, one eye on the monitor.
David spread a clear space on the table. He was sick of his laptop. Maybe writing everything out would help him clear his mind. He thought back to the very beginning, trying to focus not only on who was involved but what had happened, and began to make notes.
Planted tip-why did they draw our attention?
Gang working for syndicate: did they know overall plans? Why were they involved?
Deliberate attempt to avoid casualties?
Who did Cesc see?
Aquilani
Cudicini
Macheda
Enrique
Other?? (Cesc's)
Roman Abramovich
three sep. investigations, one unresolved-death of business rival
motive? gain?
ties with Moggi?
David stared at the paper and then leaned forward and rested his forehead in one hand.
Two weeks, and they were no closer to solving the real mystery than they had been when Cesc landed on their doorstep. With the addition of Žigić and Tamudo-no, Raúl and Arbeloa were covering that. He didn't have to solve everything himself, David reminded himself, he just had to keep a handle on the London suspects, Abramovich, the syndicate in Spain, their actual case-
"Hey," Cesc said, breaking into David's thoughts. His voice, rising with excitement, made David snap to attention. "Hey, this guy's been in here before."
David was beside Cesc in a second. "He was here just a couple days ago," Cesc said. "The same day as the car chase with whatshisname, the drug guy. Remember?"
Cesc was right: it was the nervous one, the one who'd told David's instincts there had to be something deeper going on. Cesc started to say something; David absently shushed him. The same feeling of wrongness prodded at David as they watched the familiar routine of payment and notation: this time the man managed to stick around, twitching, until Reyes was finished with the entry before he escaped.
Reyes watched him go, shaking his head.
"What's up?" García called from the back of the office.
"Nothing," Reyes said, raising his voice as he slipped the account book back under the counter. "Your face."
"You're trying to distract me from your football team," García said cheerfully. "I understand. It's a shame about those injuries, isn't it?"
Normal conversation resumed. Cesc looked up at David and said, "But he hasn't actually called or anything. Not since he was here last time."
I knew it, something whispered in the back of David's mind. He ignored it: instinct didn't mean he could bypass logical investigation. David let Cesc puzzle it out aloud. "He could have been, like, someone else's agent. Or…" Cesc's brows furrowed. "No, wait, but the first time he didn't give them any ID or anything, or tell them why he was there, right? So they must have known him."
"Or it could have happened before we started surveillance," David pointed out.
Cesc made a skeptical face. "You think?"
"Not really," David said.
They looked at each other.
"So there's definitely something funny going on," Cesc said. "But there's pretty much no way to figure out what."
There wasn't. There were no more answers to be found here: they'd gone as far as they could with surveillance of the office. The next step would have to be to set a tail on Helguera, García, and Reyes, maybe bug the shipping bay, investigate the shipments. Would Figo want them to do it themselves? David thought of Villa, and didn't know what he wanted the answer to be.
"Silva?" Cesc said.
David roused himself. "Okay. Let's see. First we have to take care of procedure. We should be able to run a search on his vocal frequency to make sure it doesn't match any of the tapped calls. And I really hate to say this, but we're going to have to go over the content again, too, especially any conversations or visits happening around the time of the transactions. Sometimes you have to-"
He stopped short.
"Compare what?" Cesc asked, but David didn't answer. Something about what he'd just said had sparked a connection almost too fleeting to grasp. As Cesc watched, David rummaged for the daily timelines, flipped a sheet over and began to scribble down the rotation of the three marks in and out of the office.
Cesc looked over his shoulder. "What's that?"
"Times," David said. He saw it before he was finished writing; it wasn't difficult to figure out. David waited a moment, though, with one eye on Cesc. Sure enough-
"Look," Cesc suddenly exclaimed, grabbing David's arm, "look, it's a pattern. Each time they come in, it's after Helguera's been out the afternoon before. He has to be doing something, it can't be just coin-" He finally got a good look at David and slumped a little. "You got that already, huh?"
David grinned. "Good catch."
Cesc's crestfallen expression lasted for only a minute before he rebounded like a rubber ball. "Okay, anyway, Helguera's not around now, right? So that means someone should come in tomorrow. Can we, like, lie in wait for them, or-"
David was about to answer when he heard footsteps in the hall. The door opened.
"Took longer than I thought," Villa said. His face was closed. "Sorry."
Cesc beat David to it. "Guess what? We got a repeat!"
Villa looked from Cesc to David as if to say, What the hell is he talking about? David said, "Remember the nervous one, the one who came in the same day as Ruano?" Villa nodded slowly. "He came back."
Villa's face showed no recognition at first, then his eyebrows went up. "No order."
"Right." David leaned back. "We're about to double check the phone records just in case, but he didn't give them any kind of number, he hasn't come by since, but they knew what to expect anyway. So…"
"And there's more," Cesc cut in. "There's a pattern to when they come in, it's always after Helguera's gone. So now-"
"Groundwork," Villa said. His eyes were still on David. "You going to call in now?"
"I think we have to," David said. "But-" He chose his words carefully. "That doesn't guarantee anything. Even if we try to get in touch with someone now…"
Villa nodded shortly. "Right."
David glanced at Cesc. Something over the wiretap had caught his attention; from his woebegone expression, Reyes and Garcia were probably still talking about football. David moved away, toward Villa, and said quietly, "Did it help?"
Villa's mouth flattened. "Not yet," he said. "I'm just getting started." He headed for his laptop, shrugging out of his jacket. As he passed by Cesc, he stopped and looked down. "Good job," he said. "Catching that."
Cesc practically bloomed. A smile pulled at the corners of David's mouth. It faded as he watched Villa take a seat, coiled in on himself.
Villa glanced up. "You going to make that call?"
"Yes," David said. He remembered suddenly the morning's other development. "Oh, and check your email. We finally heard back from van Nistelrooy."
Villa logged in one-handed, glancing back at David. "No help?"
David shook his head. "You'll see. I guess we can keep going with it but…"
He trailed off. Villa was frowning at the email. "Van Nistelrooy was part of the leak investigation?"
David blinked. "He doesn't say that, exactly," he said, but Villa was already leaning forward, tapping at the keys. It looked like he was composing a reply.
David moved over to perch on the arm of the couch to make the call. He tried Figo first; Figo was almost never available to field agents when he was out of Madrid, but David could leave a message and then call Raúl's office.
He nearly dropped his communicator when a curt voice said, "Yes?"
He scrambled for composure. "Yes, hi, it's David Silva. Sir."
"Silva," Figo said, after a second. "I understand you've been informed of the situation."
"Yes," said David. "I mean. Raúl told me. Us." He paused. Figo said nothing. "This isn't-I'm sorry to bother you, I didn't expect to reach you. There's another development in our surveillance case, but I can get in touch with Raúl instead if you need me to."
"No," Figo said. "You're on the line already. Give me your assessment."
David cleared his throat and gave Figo a brief summary of the day's observations. "If we're right, we'll see someone in tomorrow. Either way, I don't think we're going to get much else out of surveillance, at least not here. It's time for someone to follow up on the ground."
Figo let a few seconds pass before he responded. "Tell me something," he said. "Raúl told me Villa reacted-badly."
Now David was the one who hesitated.
"Give me your honest opinion, Silva," Figo said quietly. "Do I need to put him on enforced leave?"
David kept himself from reacting, barely. His gaze instinctively found Villa, across the room. Villa's jaw was set; he was leaning forward, curling toward the screen like he always did when he was intensely focused. David doubted if he'd slept at all.
David licked his lips. "No," he said. "No. Let him stay."
"You're sure."
"Yes," said David.
"All right," Figo said after a minute. "I'll take your word for it." He paused again before continuing. "Confirm your pattern and we'll proceed from there. I should return in-"
A voice in the background cut in. There was a rasping sound, like a hand covering the receiver, and David could hear Figo's muffled voice answer. "I'm sorry, Silva," he said a second later. "I need to go. I'll be back in Madrid within the next two days. You can report to the office then. I'll be in touch."
"Thank you," David remembered to say, before Figo hung up.
Villa's eyes were trained on him when he looked up. David wondered how much he'd overheard, or guessed. He cleared his throat. "Figo's still in Barcelona. He'll be back in a couple days. We can report then and get new orders."
Villa nodded.
David realized that Cesc was watching him, too. He mustered a little smile for him and got to his feet. "So, Cesc," he said. "How do you feel about taking some of the records?"
David could tell, the next day, that Villa had barely slept again. Once again he was absorbed in his laptop; this time, though, David had a feeling he wasn't simply researching case files.
Though García and the others were quiet, Cesc seemed to have adopted surveillance as his own personal responsibility; he stayed glued to the monitors as they waited for the so-called customer to show, taking meticulous and probably unnecessary notes. David let him. It spared a little of his own attention as he scribbled half-heartedly at a sheet of paper, trying to reorganize a timeline of events and trying not to think about just how little he understood.
"Fuck," Villa said suddenly, out of nowhere. He was scowling at the laptop screen.
"What's wrong?" David asked.
"Got kicked out again," he said. His fingers flew over the keyboard.
David bit back the question. "Don't get in trouble," he said.
"I'm better than anything they've got," Villa said absently. The flash of his usual assurance made David almost smile.
At that moment, his phone rang.
David's heart skipped a beat. He picked it up almost reluctantly, unsure what he was expecting-only that it couldn't possibly be good.
But when he glanced at the screen, the name on display made tension David hadn't even realized was bunched in his neck to flow away in a rush. With relief he thumbed the call on and said, "Hi, Juan."
The sound of Juan Mata's cheerful voice made David's mouth turn up automatically. "Hey, David, how's it going?"
"Honestly?" David said, trying for a small laugh. "It's been better."
Juan made a sympathetic noise. "Want me to ruin someone's reputation for you? Or is it more secret stuff you can't talk about?"
David did laugh then, taking himself by surprise. "More like the second. Sorry."
"Okay, well, maybe this'll get your mind off it. I've got some news for you."
David sat up. "On Moggi?"
"Ready to take notes?" David fumbled for a pen and made an affirmative noise. "My sources tell me that the syndicate's gearing up for something big. Some people seem to think there's a territory spat about to go down in the south, around Málaga. Narcotics."
Ruano was from Málaga. David made a note to talk to Higuaín.
"Someone also hinted that it might have to do with a couple mysterious disappearances lately. Miguel Torres, Sergio García. Look them up. I am."
David scribbled down the names. "How trustworthy is your source?"
"Law enforcement," Juan said. "It's legitimate."
"And you're investigating this yourself?"
"I'm doing what I can up here, but I can't get all the way down to Málaga and I can only get so much out of my contacts here. This one's up to you."
David blew out a long breath. "Thanks, Juan, I'll check it out." A tiny voice at the back of his head was insisting there was no way he had time. He pushed it away. "You're a big help."
Juan hesitated. "David, normally I wouldn't ask but- you know what you're getting into, right? These guys don't fuck around."
"I know," David said. "Believe me." He pushed a hand into his hair. "Listen, are you hearing anything about…"
"-the other thing?" Juan finished for him. "Nothing yet. I've gotten a couple questions about whether I have any tips on what really went down, but that's it. Don't ask," he added, "I won't tell you."
David figured as much-Juan was always good about protecting his sources-but he couldn't help a little sigh anyway. "What did you tell them?" he asked, mostly out of curiosity.
"That I had a lead I was working on."
"And…?"
"When I get the exclusive from you it'll be a great lead."
David laughed in spite of himself. "I don't think that's what they meant."
"It wasn't a lie," Juan said cheerily. "Right?"
"Right," David said. "Okay. Thanks for the heads up. I'll look into those names." He could tell Juan was waiting. "And call you if I turn up anything."
"Hey, by the way, you never told me-"
A hand descended on his shoulder. David nearly started; he looked up and Villa mouthed, Put me on.
"Sorry, Juan?" David interrupted. "Thanks for everything, you're great. My partner wants to talk to you, okay?"
"What?" Juan squeaked. "David, wait-"
"Mata, right? It's Villa." Silence; then Villa rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. Look, I've got a couple things to ask you."
David couldn't help listening with one ear; it was what he was trained to do. Villa was quizzing Juan about the Vieri cleanup from a couple years back. David vaguely remembered the case, from around the time he'd wrapped up training. Mostly, though, he was thinking about what Juan had said. He didn't have time for another problem, he couldn't afford another distraction.
He'd manage it somehow, he told himself. He had to.
Villa was ending the call. "Okay," he was saying. "Thanks, Mata. I'll call you again." A pause. "Whatever. Don't mention it."
"What did you give him?" David asked, after Villa hung up.
"Give him?"
"Usually we trade information…" Villa's face showed no recognition. David was torn between amusement and surprise. If Juan hadn't asked for anything in return, it was the first time David had ever heard of it. He said instead, "Did you find out anything helpful…?"
Villa shrugged. "Guess I'll find out. You?"
David quickly outlined what Mata had told him about the syndicate. "I'm going to get in touch with Higuaín and see if he knows anything about what's happening in Málaga," he finished. "It's a long shot but you never know. Oh, and Juan gave us a heads up, a couple of his contacts are tapping him up for more information on the explosion. I know there hasn't been much pressure on the agency yet, but…"
Villa nodded, drumming his fingers restlessly on the table. "Those names Mata gave you-"
"I'll look into them," David said. "Don't worry."
"Okay," Villa said. "I. Thanks." He cleared his throat. "I'm going to get back to work."
It wasn't five minutes before Villa's own mobile went off. He sat up. "Llorente," he said. "Yeah. Sure. Right away." He started to get up, then looked at David.
"Go," said David.
* *
Cesc jumped at the sound of the door banging shut. Villa leaving, again. Cesc twisted around to look at Silva, but Silva didn't see it: he was perched on the arm of the couch, clearly lost in thought. After a minute, he shook his head and got up, returning to the table and taking the empty seat. His eyes were still kind of far away; though he pulled a blank sheet of paper over in front of him, he only tapped absently at it with a pen.
It wasn't like Cesc hadn't noticed Villa disappearing over the last couple days, but Silva remained quiet on the subject. Silva was awfully quiet in general, for that matter, absorbed in either work or his own thoughts, so Cesc spent most of his time in front of the monitors. He felt like someone should care about surveillance most, so it might as well be him. He didn't mind it as much anymore, actually; he was starting to feel kind of like he knew García and Reyes. Particularly Reyes-it was almost like having another Arsenal fan to commiserate with, and with the way it sounded like they were playing, Cesc needed it.
Speaking of which-Cesc turned his attention back to Reyes. "…up by three," Reyes was saying in a monotone. "It ended in a draw."
Cesc moaned and buried his head in his arms.
"Bad result?" Silva's voice asked.
Cesc raised his head and gave a hollow laugh. Silva winced sympathetically. He glanced over at the monitor in front of Cesc, and said, clearly trying to change the subject tactfully, "Is there any sign of…?
"Nope." Cesc flopped back in his chair and took the risk of putting one foot up on the table. "When's Villa getting back?"
He didn't really expect Silva to give him a real answer, so he wasn't very surprised when Silva just said, "Later."
"You can't tell me what's up?" he prodded, just because he was bored.
"Sorry," Silva said, sounding tired. "It's not really my…"
"Yeah, I know," Cesc said quickly, feeling a prick of guilt. "You could tell me about someone else's secret past," he suggested, and then wondered if maybe he wasn't supposed to mention that either.
To his surprise, Silva's mouth turned up. "You could tell me about your secret past."
Cesc crossed his arms over his chest. "You know everything about me already."
Silva looked a little guilty. "Not everything," he said.
"Sure," Cesc said, not believing that for a minute.
"You could tell me…" Silva was obviously searching for something he didn't, in fact, know already. "Um, why you decided to go study in London in the first place? That's not on record anywhere."
"It's creepy when you talk like that," Cesc informed him, but he pushed himself upright. "Do your super secret records mention my gap year?"
"They're not secret records," Silva said. "It's an aggregated database, that's all." Cesc gave him a flat look. "Maybe some of it is secret."
"That's not an answer," said Cesc.
"There's a break between the dates you finished baccalaureate and started at university," Silva allowed. "And a visa record."
"Yeah," Cesc said, "I didn't know what to study, I didn't have a job or anything, I didn't really know what to do with myself, so I took a year off. My friend and I went backpacking around the UK, it was awesome." The thought of Geri made his smile fade away. Geri probably thought he was-
"Anyway," he said. "That's why I went back there to study. I had some friends there already and I just thought, hey, I should try out something else for once."
Silva looked considering. "That makes sense," he said, which was nicer than most people were about the fact that Cesc had basically no life plan. "I was supposed to go to England after training, actually, for my post-training rotation, but like I said…" He gave a little shrug.
Cesc put a hand against the table and eased his chair back on two legs, trying to get it to balance. "How long've you been partners with Villa, exactly?" he asked, out of curiosity. If they'd partnered up straight out of training, it must have been three or four years, at least.
"Almost two years," Silva said.
The front legs hit the floor again with a thump. "What?" Cesc said. "Two? That's all? Then how long's your training?"
"About six months," Silva said. "Why?"
Silva had said he joined up right out of school. Six months of training, then almost two years with Villa, that would make him-
Cesc narrowed his eyes at Silva. "How old are you?"
Silva cleared his throat. "Twenty-three?"
Cesc sat bolt upright. "What?" he yelped. "You're-you're only a couple years older than me!"
Silva coughed. "That's right."
"Exactly how much older?" Cesc demanded. "When's your birthday?"
"That's classified," Silva said. Cesc narrowed his eyes. Silva bent his head, ostensibly to examine the papers in front of him, but there was a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth.
"It is not."
"All of a field agent's vital statistics are," Silva said. "Technically."
"I don't believe you," Cesc grumbled, though he did. He just didn't believe Silva couldn't tell him anyway.
"Don't worry," Silva said, dryly, "Villa's still plenty older than you."
Cesc never got a chance to retort, because that was when he saw someone approaching the office on the feed from the hall camera. "Oh, hey, hey, here we go," he said, leaning forward with a rush of excitement, as Silva got up and came around the table.
It was a woman this time, who didn't so much as turn a hair as she handed over the cash, and shut down Garcia like a brick wall when he tried to flirt with her. Cesc snickered.
As Garcia made a woebegone face, Cesc heard the door open and close behind them. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Villa looking back at him. "Look, we got another one," he whispered, or tried to, though going by the distracted elbow in his side it wasn't too successful.
Villa joined them just in time to see the woman leave. Altogether it had taken maybe four minutes. Silva straightened up.
"I guess that's it," he said. "I'll just confirm it with Figo." He tapped out a message on his handheld, biting his lip.
Villa exhaled, running a hand over the back of his head. He didn't look upset, exactly, but he didn't look exactly thrilled, either. Silva finished with his message and glanced at Villa, then at Cesc, then didn't say anything.
"Now what?" Cesc asked, when no one else spoke.
Silva shrugged. "Wait for Figo to come back to Madrid. It should be-" His communicator beeped and his mouth quirked up. "-soon." He flicked at the screen. "He's coming back tonight. We're supposed to come in tomorrow, whenever we feel like it." His eyebrows rose. "And bring Cesc, too, it says."
"What does he think we're going to do, leave him here by himself?" Villa said, a spark of attitude flaring, but there was no real bite to his voice. He moved toward the empty chair. "I should-I've got some things to finish."
Silva watched him for a second. Then he turned back to Cesc. "Want me to take over?"
Cesc glanced back at his screen.
"I don't mind," he said, and meant it.
They left for headquarters mid-morning the next day. At first Cesc didn't notice anything different from usual-then, as they made their way into the heart of the building, he noticed that Villa's shoulders were stiff, and he was ignoring everyone they passed.
In the main office, Granero the admin told them to wait. Cesc looked around. The rest of the minions were studiously not watching them. It was a little creepy; he was glad when, only a couple minutes later, Granero appeared to receive some invisible signal and told them, "You can go in now."
Inside, Figo was scribbling out what looked like a memo by hand. He didn't look up. Villa and Silva took up their normal positions in front of his desk and Cesc moved off to the side again, where he could keep an eye on everyone. After a second, Figo capped the pen, laid it down, and looked up.
"So," he said. "You have a pattern."
Silva glanced at Villa, who lifted one shoulder, before answering. "Yes," he said. "All four instances of suspicious activity occurred immediately following Helguera's absence, and at least one of the supposed shipping orders looks totally falsified. There's no way to know what's going on without investigating what Helguera's up to, which is why we think it's time to upgrade the case from surveillance-only to a full investigation."
Figo steepled his fingers. "What specifically do you recommend?"
"Obviously a tail on Helguera," Silva said. "Maybe also on Reyes and Garcia, or the so-called customers. and freedom to investigate some of their actual shipments, maybe? There might be something helpful there."
"And you'd like to do this yourself?"
Cesc could see Silva hesitate. "We could… Or…"
Figo turned to Cesc. "What do you think about doing groundwork, Fàbregas?"
Was this a trick question? Cesc shot another look at Silva, who didn't look any more clued in than Cesc felt. "Good?" he hazarded. "It would be nice to get outside more?"
Cesc wasn't sure but he thought Figo might have snorted. "Hm. I suppose that-" They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Figo raised his voice and said, "Come in."
The sight of the newcomer made Cesc's mouth drop open. "Xavi!"
Xavi Hernández gave him a small, tired smile. "Good to see you, Cesc," he said.
Cesc's mind was whirling. How long had it been since Xavi had come and explained everything to him? He tried to count backward and then, suddenly, realized that he'd barely thought of his mother or Carlota for several days.
He made himself pay attention to what was actually going on. "So that's why," Silva was saying in tones of enlightenment. "Xavi, hello, what are you doing down here again?"
Xavi shrugged. "Someone has to be here for the clean up."
Villa said, deceptively quietly, "So you bought into this bullshit, too."
Cesc froze. Slowly, Xavi turned to look at Villa. His shoulders were stiff. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me," Villa said. He wouldn't take his eyes off Xavi. "Jesus Christ. No wonder this got so fucking out of hand, if his own office can't even be bothered to stick up for him."
"Villa," Xavi started, and then took a pair of deep, measured breaths. "I'm going to ignore that, because I understand that you're upset-"
Villa made a sound of clear derision. "Yeah, sure you do," he said. "I can see it's really eating you up inside."
Xavi's hands balled into fists. "Don't you dare give me that, Villa," he snapped, low and infuriated. "If you've really got the balls to suggest I don't care about one of my own people-"
"He's my best friend," Villa snarled back, "so I don't give a flying fuck what you think and if you-"
Figo's voice cut in. "Quiet. Both of you."
Miraculously, they were. Cesc snuck a glance at Silva. He had a hard grip on one of Villa's arms and his eyes were darting back and forth from Villa to Figo. Cesc's went to Xavi; Xavi's cheeks blazed color and his heavy brows were drawn low.
"Do I need to suspend you both for a day?" Figo asked. It wasn't a rhetorical question. "And don't tell me I can't afford not to, Xavi, because I can and I will."
Xavi's jaw clenched. "No," he said stiffly. "You don't need to."
Villa didn't answer. "Villa?" Figo prompted in a sharp voice.
"No," Villa ground out, after a second. Silva let go of his arm.
"May I talk to your trainee," Xavi asked, voice dripping with sarcasm, "or would that be too much of a bad influence?"
"Go right ahead," Villa said, just as acidic. He turned to Silva. "I'll be in Security." Before Silva could answer, he turned on his heel and stalked out the door.
Xavi muttered something under his breath, then closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a minute. "Come on, Cesc," he said. "We'd better talk somewhere private."
Cesc hesitated, glancing at Silva. Silva gave him a minuscule nod. So Cesc followed Xavi out of the main office, down a hall, and into a little windowed conference room. Cesc perched on the table; Xavi stayed on his feet, pacing from side to side by the table. After a second he grimaced and looked up. "I'm sorry about that."
"It's okay," Cesc said awkwardly. "I mean… I heard about what happened from Silva." He cleared his throat. "He… Reina used to be in your office, they said."
"Yes," Xavi said. He looked worn to the bone. Cesc didn't see how Villa could think he didn't care about what had happened. "Villa's not the only one who thought of him as a friend."
Cesc didn't know what to say to that. "So, um. That's why you're here?"
"Someone from Barcelona needs to be on hand to coordinate." Xavi gave a short, unamused laugh. "Right now the office is, well. A mess. Pep can't leave, so I'm the next best thing." He made a clear attempt to shake it off. "Anyway. I thought as long as I was in Madrid we should talk."
Cesc sat straight up. "What? Why? Did something happen?"
Xavi looked actually startled. "With-no. No, I would have told you." He let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I started badly. To be honest…" He glanced up and gave Cesc a faint smile. "Madrid is bad enough at the best of times. I was looking forward to the chance to talk to someone who's not really part of it."
"Oh," Cesc said, feeling a little spark of flattery despite himself. "Well. Sure. No problem." A thought occurred to him. "About the, uh, the team, are you, like… everyone must be busy."
"We've got some more help," Xavi said. "Don't worry."
Cesc waited, but Xavi didn't elaborate, which gave Cesc the feeling that even if he asked he wouldn't get a real answer. "Okay. Well. Good. So." He straightened up and didn't try and keep the eagerness from his voice. "Tell me what's going on in Barcelona."
Xavi's answering smile even seemed to reach his eyes.
As soon as they were left alone in the office, Figo said, "Do you agree with him?"
David started. "I'm sorry?"
"Do you agree with Villa?" Figo repeated. "That it wasn't Reina?"
He hadn't had an answer three days ago, and he didn't have one now. "I'm-not sure…" Figo's sharp gaze made him clear his throat. "I understand why it's… difficult to believe."
"That's very diplomatic," Figo said. For some reason, that made him take his eyes from David and look beyond him, at some point in the distance. One corner of his mouth curled up, not a smile.
David had to continue: something was making him. "David-Villa-he's a good agent. He won't believe it-he won't believe anything until he proves it to himself."
Figo said, "Raúl thinks the same thing, as it happens."
"Oh," David said, a second too late. "Right."
Figo appeared to be thinking of something else. David ventured, "How did it go? In Barcelona?"
That made Figo return his attention to David. "Informatively," he said. The cast to his mouth was faintly ironic. He shook his head, to himself, and said briskly, "Everyone's going to hear about it. An infiltration of three bureaus and a satellite office is too big to hide. The best we can do is control the story. We did win this one in the end, after all.
David wasn't sure if Figo was talking to him or thinking aloud. He said, "Raúl said it didn't have anything to do with the-the incident in London."
"That's correct," Figo said. "As a matter of fact, he doesn't appear to have sold out any field agents he worked with." He paused and then said, "He saved that for the ones he didn't know. "
David flinched. "That was his mistake all along," Figo continued, almost as if he were discussing a distant theory. "Letting it get personal. Protecting his friends, helping his old boss. If he'd kept it just about money… well."
But nothing would ever have been just about money, with Pepe. With Reina.
David swallowed. He couldn't afford to think that way. Figo shook his head slightly to himself, tapped the folder on his desk, and fixed a penetrating look back on David. "Speaking of London," he said. "What kind of progress are you making on the case?"
None. But David couldn't say that. Instead he took a deep breath and gave Figo a summary of each fruitless avenue of investigation, culminating in the email from van Nistelrooy.
"Hm," Figo said. "And you still don't know how Fàbregas comes into all this."
It wasn't framed as an accusation, but David felt the full weight of a reprimand all the same. "No," he said. "Sir. I'm sorry, we've…" He was making excuses now. He cleared his throat and met Figo's eyes. "We don't. No."
Figo leaned back in his chair. "The longer this goes unresolved, the higher the probability his cover will be disturbed. It was only meant to be makeshift in the first place."
"I know," David had to say. He started to raise a hand to his head and checked himself. Suddenly he remembered something he'd left out: Juan's phone call. "Wait. We have one more lead, maybe," he said. "I heard from someone that the syndicate might be getting into some kind of territory scuffle in the south. It probably doesn't have anything to do with Cesc, but we should check it out anyway. Alexis Ruano's from that area, I was wondering if Sneijder or Higuaín are available for a word?"
"Ask whenever you like," Figo said. "Raúl seems to have put them both on desk work for two weeks."
David winced. "Oh. That was probably because of, um, Morientes."
"Yes, I heard all about that," Figo said coolly. "That's an interesting definition of 'backup' you and Villa have, by the way."
David felt himself flushing from head to toe. "It was-we were ready to turn back, but then Ruano popped out right in front of us and…" Figo didn't look impressed. He finished lamely, "We didn't want to let him go when he was right there."
"I see," Figo said. He gave David an indecipherable look. David said quickly, "By the way, about Ruano's custody…"
Figo waved a hand. "Oh, we got him back." His smile wasn't very nice. "It didn't even take too many favors."
"Oh," David said. "Good." He hesitated. "So, ah, Morientes…"
"I'm sure he'll be by to chat with us sooner or later," Figo agreed. "Now, as for your other case."
David recognized the tone for what it meant-a return to business-and straightened up. Figo said, "Your recommendation is fully approved. You and Villa-and your trainee-will move to groundwork."
David didn't have time to react; Figo kept going. "De la Red will take over surveillance full time. You're authorized for the tail on Helguera and any other persons of interest you feel merit one. However-" Figo's dark eyes drilled into him. "If there is the slightest sign of physical danger, I expect you to pull out, is that understood?"
David flushed. "Yes, sir."
"Good," Figo said. "This is still a preliminary investigation, Silva, so I don't want any damage claims, either. You'll have Cazorla and Capdevila on call for you." Both made sense-Capdevila would be on his own until Senna was fit for duty again, and Santi Cazorla was a floating agent. Figo picked up his folder again. "You'll find Higuaín in Records Processing. Good luck."
There was no sign of Villa outside Figo's office; he must still be in Security. David took the elevator to the seventh floor and keyed in his passcode.
As always, the low lighting made him blink, more than once, to adjust. He scanned the room, past the line of workstations, the cameras the big screen where a small group of Security personnel were clustered. Where-
There, over in the far corner, was who David was looking for. Villa was leaning forward, halfway over Casillas' desk; Casillas looked almost trapped. David made his way over, avoiding several wires trailing from Codina's desk, until Casillas' voice became audible.
"-busy for everyone, Villa, I don't have time for-"
"Look, I'm not asking for much, just-"
David could see Martínez listening in, not very subtly. He saw David looking and grinned, unrepentantly, raising a hand to wave David over. David gave Villa and Casillas one last glance and detoured over to Martínez' desk.
"Hey, Silva," Martínez said, giving him a wide, happy grin, "twice in two weeks, lucky us. How's your trainee working out?"
"Not bad," David said cautiously. "It's been low-key, though, we're just doing surveillance."
"Right," Martínez said, nodding, "the little transport office. I did the cameras on that site." He nodded over in the direction of Casillas' desk and said in what was probably supposed to be a surreptitious voice, "So then what's Villa up to? I heard from Fer-Fernando Llorente-that he's going around interrogating everyone who'll stand still for more than five seconds about all these weird old cases."
"He's working on a… project," David said. He searched quickly for a subject change. "But Javi, I wanted to ask you about something. Macià still hasn't got his communicator. I put in the tech request on the first day, which must have been… five, six days ago? Know anything about that?"
"Oh," Martínez said, wincing, "we're kind of backed up. Sorry. I'll get it put through, okay?"
They'd never put in any such request. David said without the slightest bit of shame, "Thanks, that would be great." He glanced back over at Casillas' desk. Casillas had thrown his hands up in the air and was shaking his head; it meant he was caving. "I better go rescue Casillas. I'll drop by if we need anything else, okay?"
"You know where to find me," Martínez said, waving.
Villa was already turning away from Casillas' desk, though, looking satisfied. He caught sight of David and began to move toward him; by silent consent neither spoke until they were back in the empty white hall.
Villa punched the elevator button and leaned back against the wall. David asked carefully, "Did it go well?"
"I think so," Villa said. He didn't offer anything else, so David didn't ask.
Instead he said, "Figo gave us the go-ahead to do the tail ourselves."
Villa's head came up. "We're doing what?"
"Rubén's going to take over surveillance," David said. "We're in charge of running everything on the ground ourselves. We've got Capdevila and Cazorla for extra bodies if we need them."
"Right," Villa said, after a minute. "Okay."
"You won't have to stop," David said, before he could stop himself. "We'll figure something out. Don't worry."
Villa's gaze snapped back to him. David wanted to stroke the lines away from around his eyes. He held himself very still and didn't look away. "Yeah," Villa said eventually, and again, quieter, "Yeah. I know we will." He shook his head, as if to himself and looked up at David again. "That all?"
"Yes," said David. "No, wait-before we go get Cesc I want to go talk to Higuaín about Ruano. Figo said Raúl's put him and Sneijder on desk work for a couple weeks."
That, at least, got a faint twitch of the lips from Villa. "Desk work."
David, feeling mildly guilty for doing so, gave him a sideways smile. "Yeah. Be nice."
Villa tapped his closed hand against David's shoulder. "I'm always nice."
Records Processing was on the first floor, in the hall off the lobby. David knocked on the doorframe, then poked his head inside. "Hello?"
Higuaín was the only one in the office, which was dominated by hulking office machinery. Behind a desk, he looked even more like a sad puppy than usual from behind his desk. "Oh, Silva," he said. "Hi."
David thought that probably meant it was okay for him to duck inside. Villa stopped just inside, leaning against the doorframe. "How's this, um…" David looked around the room again and decided not to finish that. "How are…things?"
Higuaín's shoulders rose and fell. Somehow he made even a shrug look dejected. "It could be worse."
"Okay. Well." David glanced back at Villa, who just nodded at him to go on. "Listen, we have a couple questions about Ruano." The name alone made Higuaín's face fall. David ignored the tiny twinge of guilt and pushed on. "At least, not Ruano exactly. We heard Moggi's people might be about to set something off down south. Did you run into anything like that while you were working on his case?"
Higuaín frowned. "Moggi? No. I know the syndicate's got operations there, but I thought they mainly ran their drugs through Galicia."
"Nothing?" David pressed. "No one's… I don't know, crossed Moggi or gotten themselves in trouble somehow?"
Higuaín shook his head. "We didn't run into them much on the case-you know how Moggi likes collecting favors, and the crew Ruano worked for don't like sharing. But that would have to be news." He thought for a second, then continued dubiously, "I guess they could be switching their main point of entry from north to south, but confronting someone directly over their line…"
David nodded reluctantly. "That's not Moggi's style. Not if he can get them to do the worst to themselves." He let out a long breath. "Okay. It was a long shot in the first place. Thanks."
"No problem," Higuaín said. He finally gave David a small smile. "Let me know if you need anything else. I'll try to help."
Villa backed up and David withdrew from the office. "Not much of a lead," he said with a sigh, when Higuaín's door was closed again.
Villa didn't answer. He was looking at something past David.. "Speak of the fucking devil," he said, and David turned just in time to see Fernando Morientes push through the lobby doors.
"Oh, no," David said, before he could help it. Morientes was the last person they needed to see right now, not with the bureau in an uproar and Villa on a hair trigger. He had a fleeting thought that maybe they could sneak out before Morientes saw, just as Morientes' gaze swept across the lobby and came to rest on them.
If they ignored him now it would get him on their back again sooner than almost anything else. David sighed and headed for the security exit into the lobby, Villa close behind.
Morientes was waiting, hands in his pockets. "Hi, Mori," David said. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing much," Morientes said." I just dropped by to have a little chat with your boss about Alexis Ruano." His eyes were glittering. David bit back a groan. Even better: Morientes was in one of his dangerous moods.
He decided to take this one head on. "Look, I'm really sorry, but it's pretty busy today. No one's going to have time. I doubt you'll get a pass in."
"Then I'll settle for you two instead," Morientes said. He was still smiling. "Maybe you could give me on update on Žigić."
"We're on a surveillance case," Villa said, unexpectedly. "We don't have anything to do with Žigić any more, whatever the hell he's up to in Barcelona."
"Is that so," Morientes said, obviously skeptical.
"Really," David said. "Check with Raúl next time you get a chance to talk to him. He'll tell you the same thing." At least he hoped Raúl would, and not simply refuse to talk to Morientes out of a grudge.
"So you don't have anything to tell me," Morientes persisted. "Nothing new, nothing you might have changed your mind about sharing."
"Nothing," David said tiredly, resisting to put both hands over his face. "I swear."
"Really," Morientes said, with the wolf's grin, the one that wasn't friendly at all, the one that never meant good things. "Not even about those passports?"
For a minute, it didn't even make sense. He just stared at Morientes, until his brain kicked into gear and he was abruptly aware that he was as good as admitting his own ignorance-
-but by then, the silence had gone on too long.
Morientes was staring back. The danger was gone; the only thing his face showed was blank surprise. He looked from David to Villa, whose expression was unhelpful but unrecognizing, and back at David.
"What passports?" David said, because it was useless to pretend now.
"You don't know," Morientes said. "You really don't…" He trailed off, still staring at them. He glanced, inexplicably, upwards.
Then he turned on his heel and walked straight back out the lobby doors.
"Mori," Villa said, raising his voice sharply, but Morientes didn't either didn't hear him or ignored him. The doors swung in his wake. They looked at each other.
"Passports?" David said. "Tamudo doesn't… He's never stretched out any further than Valencia."
"So that's what he was doing with Žigić," Villa said. "False passports. That was Žigić's last line of work before he fucked up."
David shook his head, half-hoping that would clear it. "But that still doesn't explain-Tamudo didn't need to go to Warsaw to find someone to forge papers for him. He didn't need to go further than his own street. How did he even find-"
"Villa?" a sharp voice said behind them, and David's stomach plummeted as he and Villa turned in unison.
Raúl wasn't even looking at them. His eyes were fixed past the doors, down the street. "Was that Morientes?"
David debated for a microsecond over whether or not to admit everything up front and then took the plunge. "Yes. He said he was here to, um, talk about Ruano but we were talking with him and then he…" He couldn't quite bring himself to finish.
Raúl took a step forward and stopped. He was still staring outside, even though when David couldn't help glancing over his shoulder, Morientes was out of sight. "Where did he go?"
"I don't know," David said. He cleared his throat. "He thinks he's found out something about the connection between Žigić and Tamudo. That we don't know about."
Raúl looked at him then. David wished he hadn't. "He's done what."
"He seems to think he's figured some kind of connection between them?" David said, and cursed once again the way his voice went up, like it was a question. "All he said before he left was 'passports', we're not sure what-"
Raúl's look was scorching. "Find out."
We don't have time, David wanted to say. He would have sooner cut off his own tongue. "Yes, sir," he said instead.
Villa spoke up. "You're not going to get one over on Morientes on this one."
"Don't push me, Villa," Raúl bit out. He, too, turned on his heel and stalked away, vanishing back into the depths of headquarters.
David rubbed both hands over his eyes. He'd have to try and get ahold of Raúl Albiol; maybe he'd know something. He'd have to-
He took his hands away. Villa's arms were crossed over his chest and he was frowning at some point on the wall. "Okay," David said. "We better go get Cesc and get started on our actual official case." Villa didn't answer. "David?"
"That safehouse raid," Villa said. His head came up and he met David's eyes. "The one that put us onto Žigić. It was one of the things that was leaked, wasn't it."
David went still with surprise. "Do you think…?"
"I don't know," Villa said. "But I'm going to find out."
* *