Her plan was not only risky, complicated; over breakfast, she realised it was also going to be hard work. The apartment on the Calle Jorge Juan was the key to her plan, the piece that would guarantee checkmate in the imaginary game of chess she had been playing against the Carrion family since the previous afternoon. The scene she set had to be convincing. She had to dress it up with things, plant landmines, leave a few red herrings and some genuine clues. Everything that would happen later stemmed from the fact that she did not have time to have second thoughts, but simply threw herself into this task — in fact it had been fun.
‘How are things?’ Paco was late into work that morning, but the first thing he did was call her.
‘Much, much better ... thanks to me everything is perfect.’
‘Really?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Everything. The Great Financial Swindle is set to go.’
‘Well, tell me ...’
‘Oh, it’s a long story. Are you doing anything this afternoon? If you like we could have a quick lunch and I’ll explain everything, then I need you to come with me somewhere...’
‘Somewhere?’ He sounded even more surprised. ‘I don’t understand, you’re starting to scare me, Raquel.’
‘There’s nothing to be scared of. And it won’t be dangerous. I just need you to come with me to a sex shop. I mean, I could go on my own...’
‘A sex shop?’
‘Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense to you, but you haven’t heard the best bit. You are talking to Julio Carrión’s mistress.’ She waited for a response but Paco was speechless. ‘Aren’t you the one who said attack is the best form of defence?’
When they met up that afternoon, she stared at Paco for a long time before launching into her story. She knew him well, she knew they made a good team because their talents complemented each other. Raquel was more imaginative, more daring, Paco more shrewd, more realistic. Consequently Raquel was expecting questions, possibly even criticism, his usual reaction to her dangerous flights of fancy. But when she finished, Paco did not simply laugh, he clapped.
‘Fucking genius!’ He chuckled. ‘It’s absolutely brilliant...’
Raquel was so excited by his enthusiasm than when she entered the huge sex shop on the Calle Atocha, she felt a giddy excitement, the same reckless, giggly thrill she had always felt playing pranks as a girl. The shop assistant must have noticed because he came straight over and asked whether he could help.
‘Um, well ... I need ...’ She stopped to think. ‘I’m not sure, eight or ten DVDs, pornos obviously, but tame. You know, boy — girl fucking. No transvestites, no animals, no S&M ... Above board, so to speak.’
‘Well, they’re all there,’ he said, gesturing, ‘right behind you in these two aisles.’
‘I know, but I don’t know much about this stuff so I’ll probably get it wrong. So I thought, I mean, if you don’t mind, you could pick them for me?’
‘OK ...’ He looked puzzled. ‘It’s usually down to personal taste, but if you want...’
She followed him with a plastic basket as though she were shopping for a new cheese at a supermarket. She was on her own, as Paco had gone to have a look around.
‘Lesbians, yes or no? Threesomes? Group sex?’
‘OK, that’s all classic stuff. Just not too hard, because the guy they’re for is getting on a bit and ... well, I wouldn’t want him to give me a scare.’
‘We’ve got some special offers. They’re older films, but the quality is much the same.’
‘No, I’d rather spend a bit more. Ordinary stuff, but classy. You know, nothing tacky, young, beautiful people ...’
Her basket was half full when Paco showed up with another basket.
‘Pick one.’ He showed her what was in the basket and she laughed. ‘I think Don Julio would like the metallic ones, but the coloured ones are prettier, they’d suit you ...’
‘Paco, honestly!’ She looked at the dildos. ‘Do you really think we need one?’
‘When your lover is eighty-three?’ He laughed. ‘Let’s just say, I don’t think it’s too much.’
‘Let’s take the purple, then, it’s more republican.’
‘I was thinking ...’ But the assistant, whose eyes had opened wide when he heard the age of his customer’s lover, did not say what he was thinking just yet.
‘What?’ Raquel asked, seeing his expression as he watched her put the dildo in her basket.
‘No, it’s nothing.’ The assistant shook his head. ‘I forgot what you said earlier — everything legal and above board, right?’
‘Well, actually ...’ she leaned over and whispered in his ear, ‘it was just a figure of speech.’
‘I’ve got a friend next door who sells Viagra,’ he said, looking at Raquel. ‘You can normally only get it on prescription. I mean, I have herbal stuff here, but it’s not really up to much. And I just thought maybe ...’
‘Yes, I’d be interested.’
‘How many do you want?’ he asked, taking out his mobile phone.
Raquel thought for a minute. ‘Two would be fine for the moment ...’
At this point, Raquel Fernández Perea realised that everything would be fine, that luck was on her side. Paco went with her to the bar where the dealer was waiting, but he left immediately afterwards.
‘I’m meeting a girl and I’m running late,’ he said, looking at the ground as though ashamed he had not mentioned it earlier. ‘I probably won’t be in Madrid this weekend, but if you need me you can get me on the mobile, OK?’
‘OK,’ Raquel kissed him, ‘I’m very grateful, honestly, I can’t tell you ...’
Just then the light turned green, and he dashed off to hail a taxi.
He disappeared just as Raquel was about to give in, invite him for a drink, then dinner, and end up in bed.
She had been so sure that this was what would happen that she had actually wanted it to. As she paid for the pills she worked out that she hadn’t slept with anyone since 31 December when Berta had taken her to a party where’d she’d met an actor who she’d fancied at the time, though not afterwards. Since then, her campaign of resistance, the negotiations with Sebastián López Parra, meeting Julio Carrion González again, her grandmother’s secrets, her visits to the Grupo Carrion and everything had kept her too busy for sex. Even so, Paco’s lack of interest was a nudge from fate, because if she had spent the night with him, she would not have been able to get rid of him until Monday morning, and she preferred to work alone. Now that the fear and the worry were over, she trusted her own abilities more than she trusted anyone else. She did what she needed to do and she did it well. She did not need to call on anyone’s help, except for her brother Ignacio, who explained to her the following day that the small white pills you put under your tongue were called Sustac, and were to prevent heart attacks, and that the big white ones were probably statins for lowering cholesterol.
‘Do you want to see them?’ her grandmother asked, taking a pillbox out of her bag. ‘You can keep them if you want, I’ve got a whole pharmacy back at the house, but I don’t know what you’d want them for ...’
‘Nothing, I was just curious,’ she said, slipping the box back into her grandmother’s bag, having pocketed three pills.
The following morning, she bought a small silver pillbox with a scuffed lid similar to the one she had seen Julio Carrion tip out on the desk at their last meeting and a silver retracting pencil like the one she had seen in the pocket of his jacket. She also went on the most extravagant spending spree of her life, buying expensive cheese, foie gras, olives and crackers, chocolates, a bottle of whisky and a bottle of gin, Coke, tonic water, napkins ... She had toiletries at the apartment on the Calle Jorge Juan but she took them home with her, since it would be more convincing to keep the new stuff and put her old half-used ones in the apartment. Her only concession to thrift was to stop by the Chinese supermarket on the corner, where she bought some glasses, some plates and cutlery more cheaply than she could in Salamanca. She bought a DVD player there too, since Operation Bachelor Pad was already costing her a fortune, although she knew that sooner or later she would sell the apartment and make her money back. She also happened on votive candles in plastic containers that seemed ready made to place around the Jacuzzi.
On Sunday afternoon, with all the white goods working, ice in the fridge, the bed made and the ashtrays dirtied, she poured herself a drink, undressed, ran a bath, placed the candles around it, then slipped into the water with the dildo. ‘If you’re not planning on using it, you’ll need to wash it a couple of times to get rid of the new smell,’ Paco had advised her. She didn’t use it, but she let it soak for half an hour, until the candles had burned down halfway, then she blew them out one by one as if it were her birthday, and congratulated herself. She was certain she had made no mistakes, but she checked everything one last time before she left.
The following morning, Paco Molinero dropped by.
How are you?’
‘Good,’ she assured him, but seeing his face she corrected herself. ‘Not as good as you, but quite good. I’m a bit nervous.’
‘Do you want to have lunch?’ He did not give her an update on his weekend.
‘I can’t, I’m having lunch with Alvaro Carrion.’
He looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know you’d be having lunch together.’
‘Nor does he,’ she laughed, ‘but I thought it would be a nice touch. I can hardly tell him I was his father’s mistress just like that, and besides, if we have lunch I might be able to get some information out of him.’
‘OK, well, call me and let me know how it goes.’
That morning, she had tried on half her wardrobe before settling on a dress. She did her make-up just before leaving, and did not bother to wonder why she had not got back to Sebastián, who had phoned on Saturday. When she saw Alvaro, still wearing jeans, on the far side of the glass door, she smiled without having to think about it, and everything else flowed just as easily. She hadn’t planned on calling him by his first name, but as she walked up to him, she decided she could hardly call him Señor Carrion. This was the last conscious decision she made before taking the key to the Calle Jorge Juan apartment from her bag and placing it on the table.
Leaving the restaurant, she should have realised that it had been years since she had been so attracted to a man, but she was no longer thinking straight. She was worried that her legs would not carry her home; when she got there, she shut herself in the bedroom, closed the blinds, threw herself on the bed and laughed. She wanted to laugh, she didn’t want to think about what had happened. She did nothing else until the phone rang.
‘What happened?’ Paco sounded panicked. It was 6.15 p.m. ‘You didn’t call me.’
‘No ... I just forgot.’
‘So?’
‘Very bad. And very good.’
‘What do you mean?’
Raquel sat down, took a deep breath and attempted to adopt a serious tone.
‘Álvaro Carrion is a physicist.’
‘A physicist?’ Paco sounded confused. ‘You mean his father’s a multimillionaire, and he’s a scientist?’
‘Yep.’
‘That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.’
‘I know.’ Raquel understood her colleague’s reaction. ‘His older brothers both work for their father’s company, all very dynastic, but not him. He’s a professor at the university. He has nothing to do with the family business, so I couldn’t get any information out of him. And he didn’t take it badly when I told him his father and I were lovers, actually he didn’t react at all. And he seems to be a bit of a liberal. I was pretty lucky on that score.’
‘And on the other?’
‘What other?’ She was confused now.
‘What do you think? The money?’
‘Oh, that ... I’ve no idea. I’ll have to play it cool, see what side he’s on. For the moment, he doesn’t seem upset or offended, he didn’t call me a slut or accuse me of lying. He kept the key, so I’m fairly sure he’ll go round to the flat.’
‘I hope so, that’s what we’re counting on. But I don’t understand ... Why didn’t you just tell me it went well?’
‘Um ... because it was fun, a lot of fun.’
‘Jesus, Raquel,’ Paco’s surprise quickly turned to impatience, ‘you didn’t go to lunch with the guy to have fun.’
‘No, you’re right, but what can you do? I had fun.’
She could not think of any other way of explaining it and she spent the rest of the evening imagining Alvaro Carrion falling into the traps she had set for him, a pastime that both amused and excited her. She had thought she was completely in control, but forty-eight hours later, she was already lost.
Rafael Carrion Otero called her on Wednesday, 6 April, to inform her that Alvaro was not president of the Grupo Carrion. Before she had time to digest this news, he told her that he was taking over responsibility for the investments, that he was very busy and that he would like to meet with her the following morning, because in the afternoon all of the heirs were getting together, he would therefore be grateful if she would put together all the necessary documents because he intended to liquidate all the stocks and investments at his mother’s request.
‘Nothing you can say is going to change my mind,’ he said in conclusion, so Raquel did not even try. Goodbye, investments, she thought, good riddance. Paco Molinero agreed with her.
She did not much care for Álvaro’s older brother. He was so unlike Alvaro that she made no attempt to keep him any longer than was absolutely necessary. He was tall and thin, but had a beer belly, his shoulders were stooped, and his blond hair was so thin and sparse that he would have been better getting rid of it altogether. Otherwise, he was arrogant, condescending and so abrasive it was as though he intended to be rude.
‘I thought that some young man was dealing with my father’s investments — Aguado,’ he said as he was about to sign.
‘He was. But he’s been working on a rather delicate project these past few months, so he asked me to take care of ...’