knows. The only person who knows is Comrade Salgado, who decided not to hand it over to the proletariat but to hide it, so he could live in grand style after the war. Which is something he’ll never do because we’ll keep him here until he sings like a canary or until your friend Fumero slices what’s left of him into little cutlets.’
Fermín nodded, putting two and two together.
‘I’d noticed he is missing a couple of fingers on his left hand and he walks in a funny way.’
‘One of these days you must ask him to pull his trousers down and you’ll see he’s also missing some other key equipment he’s lost along the way because of his stubborn refusal to cooperate.’
Fermín gulped.
‘I want you to know that I find such atrocities repugnant. That’s one of the two reasons why you’re here, and why I’ve ordered Salgado to be moved to your cell. Because I believe that when people talk they get to understand one another. I want you to discover where he’s hidden the stash from the Vilajoanas, and from all the other thefts and crimes he committed in the last few years, and I want you to tell me.’
Fermín felt his heart fall to the ground.
‘And the other reason?’
‘The second reason is that I’ve noticed that you have recently become pals with David Martín. Which is fine by me. Friendship is a virtue that ennobles humans and helps rehabilitate prisoners. I’m not sure if you know that Martín is a writer of sorts.’
‘I’ve heard something.’
The governor threw him an icy glance but kept up his friendly smile.
‘Martín isn’t a bad person, really, but he’s mistaken about a lot of things. One of them is this naïve notion that he has to protect the weak and the innocent and such.’
‘How extravagant of him.’
‘Indeed. That’s why I thought that perhaps it would be good if you keep close to him, with your eyes and ears well open, and tell me what he tells you, what he thinks and feels … I’m sure there must be something he’s mentioned to you that has caught your attention.’
‘Come to think of it, Governor, he’s recently been complaining quite a lot about a spot in his groin where his underpants rub against him.’
The governor sighed and muttered something under his breath, visibly tired from having to feign so much politeness with such an undesirable specimen.
‘Look here, you imbecile, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’m trying to be reasonable, but all I have to do is to pick up the phone and your friend Fumero will be here in half an hour. I’ve been told that lately, as well as the welding torch, he keeps a cabinetmaker’s toolbox in one of the basement cells with which he works wonders. Am I making myself clear?’
Fermín clasped his hands to hide his trembling.
‘Beautifully. Forgive me, Governor. I hadn’t eaten beef for so long that the protein must have gone straight to my head. It won’t happen again.’
The governor resumed his smile and continued as if nothing had happened.
‘In particular, I’m interested in finding out whether he’s ever mentioned a cemetery of forgotten books, or dead books, or something along those lines. Think carefully before you answer. Has Martín ever talked to you about such a place?’
Fermín shook his head.
‘I swear, sir, I’ve never in my life heard Señor Martín, or anyone else, mention that place …’
The governor winked at him.
‘I believe you. And that’s why I know that if he does mention it, you’ll tell me. And if he doesn’t, you’ll bring up the subject and find out where it is.’
Fermín nodded repeatedly.
‘And one more thing. If Martín talks to you about a job I’ve asked him to do for me, convince him that in his own best interests, and in particular those of a certain young lady he holds in very high esteem, as well as the husband and child of the latter, he’d better get cracking and write his best work.’
‘Do you mean Señora Isabella?’ Fermín
Fermín nodded, putting two and two together.
‘I’d noticed he is missing a couple of fingers on his left hand and he walks in a funny way.’
‘One of these days you must ask him to pull his trousers down and you’ll see he’s also missing some other key equipment he’s lost along the way because of his stubborn refusal to cooperate.’
Fermín gulped.
‘I want you to know that I find such atrocities repugnant. That’s one of the two reasons why you’re here, and why I’ve ordered Salgado to be moved to your cell. Because I believe that when people talk they get to understand one another. I want you to discover where he’s hidden the stash from the Vilajoanas, and from all the other thefts and crimes he committed in the last few years, and I want you to tell me.’
Fermín felt his heart fall to the ground.
‘And the other reason?’
‘The second reason is that I’ve noticed that you have recently become pals with David Martín. Which is fine by me. Friendship is a virtue that ennobles humans and helps rehabilitate prisoners. I’m not sure if you know that Martín is a writer of sorts.’
‘I’ve heard something.’
The governor threw him an icy glance but kept up his friendly smile.
‘Martín isn’t a bad person, really, but he’s mistaken about a lot of things. One of them is this naïve notion that he has to protect the weak and the innocent and such.’
‘How extravagant of him.’
‘Indeed. That’s why I thought that perhaps it would be good if you keep close to him, with your eyes and ears well open, and tell me what he tells you, what he thinks and feels … I’m sure there must be something he’s mentioned to you that has caught your attention.’
‘Come to think of it, Governor, he’s recently been complaining quite a lot about a spot in his groin where his underpants rub against him.’
The governor sighed and muttered something under his breath, visibly tired from having to feign so much politeness with such an undesirable specimen.
‘Look here, you imbecile, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’m trying to be reasonable, but all I have to do is to pick up the phone and your friend Fumero will be here in half an hour. I’ve been told that lately, as well as the welding torch, he keeps a cabinetmaker’s toolbox in one of the basement cells with which he works wonders. Am I making myself clear?’
Fermín clasped his hands to hide his trembling.
‘Beautifully. Forgive me, Governor. I hadn’t eaten beef for so long that the protein must have gone straight to my head. It won’t happen again.’
The governor resumed his smile and continued as if nothing had happened.
‘In particular, I’m interested in finding out whether he’s ever mentioned a cemetery of forgotten books, or dead books, or something along those lines. Think carefully before you answer. Has Martín ever talked to you about such a place?’
Fermín shook his head.
‘I swear, sir, I’ve never in my life heard Señor Martín, or anyone else, mention that place …’
The governor winked at him.
‘I believe you. And that’s why I know that if he does mention it, you’ll tell me. And if he doesn’t, you’ll bring up the subject and find out where it is.’
Fermín nodded repeatedly.
‘And one more thing. If Martín talks to you about a job I’ve asked him to do for me, convince him that in his own best interests, and in particular those of a certain young lady he holds in very high esteem, as well as the husband and child of the latter, he’d better get cracking and write his best work.’
‘Do you mean Señora Isabella?’ Fermín
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