With no small difficulty, Vicente had smuggled Alex out the back, then maneuvered his languid form into a taxi and taken them to his apartment, where he’d left Alex on the couch with a glass of water and a cup of black coffee for another forty minutes before returning. Alex, meanwhile, had taken one sip of the coffee and thought better of it, but as lucidity proved increasingly slow to return, he stomached more, trying to parse what Vicente had said. What their show had been. Why the cops had shown up at the theatre. He couldn’t remember Vicente getting him into the car.
“Vis? Where are we going? Do you even drive?”
“Just chill, will you? I need to concentrate. It’s Miguel’s car, and yes, I drive.”
“Let me rephrase that,” Alex said. “Are you licenced to drive?”
“Who’s going to pull us over between here and the Basque country at this time of night?”
“The Basque country?” Alex’s head suddenly seemed clearer. “There’s a damn good chance the police will, and they don’t like insurgents, Vis.”
“It’s a good thing we’re not insurgents then. Christ, Alex, I am nervous enough. What is wrong with you?”
The wine, thought Alex. Had Jago drugged the wine?Our wine, indeed.
“Look, where are we going? Why? What makes you even think—”
“Let’s take those one at a time,” Vicente answered through gritted teeth. “One, we’re going to San Sebastián.”
“San Sebastián? I’m really not in the mood for a seaside holiday, Vis.”
Vicente struck his palm against the steering wheel, but otherwise contained his anger. “It’s a place to start. You said Jago went up there for business not long ago? Well, I’m willing to bet that business had something to do with tonight. He’s been planning this, Alex. Don’t tell me he hasn’t.”
“Planning…?
“Oh, come on, man. He gets all over you and turns your head to get access to her?”
“If all he wanted was access to her, then why wouldn’t he get all over you?”
Vicente shook his head. “Too close, maybe? Afraid we’d work out what he was doing? Maybe he saw he had an ‘in’ with you or he just fancied you more? How should I know? Fuck! I don’t even…”
“What is your plan, Vis?” Alex asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice now. “Once we get to San Sebastián, how do you intend to find them? Ask around?”
“I don’t know. The hotels? Restaurants? Guy who looks like Lorca, only a hottie, thought to be in the company of locallooking woman? It’s not a big city. Somebody must have seen something.”
Alex drummed his fingers on the ugly brown leather upholstery of his seat. “Yes, someone must have… but not in San Sebastián.”
“Where, then?”
“Zugarramurdi!”
“Zugga-whatty?”
“The witch town. That’s where he’s taken her. And I’ll bet it’s to the caves she talked about.”
“I…” Vicente shook his head again, driving on faith. “Glove box.”
“What?”
“Miguel said he had some maps in the glove box. What? You think, driving in the dark, that I know how to get to this town I’ve never even heard of?”
Alex opened the compartment and rummaged through the promised maps until he spied one covering Navarre and the French border. He unfolded it across his knees. “I can’t see a damn thing, Vis.”
Vicente reached above their heads and flicked on the light. “Jesus, if anyone’s going to pull us over, it’s going to be now.”
“Here!” Alex pointed to a small spot on the map within spitting distance of the French border.
Vicente peered at it, then turned out the light. “Okay. You’ll still have to direct me. Next question. Why? I don’t know, man. You tell me. I thought this guy was crazy about you.”
