He asked the receptionist to dial the inspector’s number. She complied with the request and handed him the receiver of her landline phone. Placing it to his ear, he heard the lethargic pulse of the Spanish ringback tone. He also heard, from somewhere in the cavernous lobby, the simultaneous bleating of a mobile phone. The bleating ceased at once, as did the ringback tone.
He returned the receiver to the receptionist and headed upstairs to his suite. It had a comfortable sitting room and a private terrace with a small infinity pool. He placed most of the cash in the room safe and left the rest in the attaché case, which he concealed in the drawer of the credenza. The phone on the writing desk rang as he was hanging his clothing in the closet. It was his friend from reception, informing him that Inspector Aragón was waiting for him downstairs in the lobby.
Leaving his room, he engaged the privacy light and wedged a tiny slip of paper into the doorjamb—a telltale, in the lexicon of his previous trade. As the elevator carriage descended he produced a quick mental sketch of the Spanish detective awaiting him in the lobby. Dark suit, formfitting white pullover, ash-blond hair, fair skin, thirty-five at most. The shoes were low-heeled pumps, functional but stylish. Not the sort of footwear worn by most Spanish cops. Not at all what Gabriel had been expecting.
9
Ibiza Gran Hotel
“Are you carrying a gun, Señor Allon?”
“Should I be?”
She slipped a forefinger beneath the left lapel of Gabriel’s jacket and had a look for herself. Then she searched the right side and ran a hand discreetly over the small of his back.
“Don’t you want to check for an ankle holster?”
“You don’t strike me as the type.” She extended her hand in greeting. “I’m Inspector Eva Aragón of the Policía Nacional.”
“So I gathered.”
They sat down at a table in the lobby bar, and the inspector, after engaging the waiter in a few pleasantries, orderedcafé solofor them both. Her eyes were restless and a peculiar shade of blue-gray. She wore no jewelry other than a digital wristwatch, and her nails were trimmed short like a boy’s. Her left hand appeared slightly swollen. There was an abrasion on one of her knuckles.
“First time in Spain?” she asked.
“You tell me,” replied Gabriel.
“You flew into Madrid a couple of years ago using a passport bearing the name Gabriel Allon. A surveillance team from our domestic security service attempted to follow you, but you gave them the slip in Salamanca. They were wondering what you were doing there.”
“I was visiting a friend.”
“Friend have a name?”
Gabriel decided there was no harm in answering truthfully. “Magdalena Navarro.”
“The painter?”
“Very impressive.”
She ignored the backhanded compliment. “How do you know her?”
“Some other time, Inspector.”
She reached into her handbag and withdrew a thick file. “For the record, this is all highly unusual. If it were anyone but you, I would have refused.”
“I’m flattered.”
“So easily?” Smiling, she placed the file on the table. “Where would you like me to begin?”
“I’ve always found it helpful to begin at the beginning.”
“But which beginning, Señor Allon?” She opened the file. “There are so many from which to choose.”
Inspector Eva Aragón chose as her starting point the victim’s last day on the island, though even this was problematic, she added, because the Policía Nacional had yet to determine conclusively that Alice Winter was in fact a victim of a crime or that she was no longer on Ibiza. Interviews with her friends Sophie Maxwell and Ella Burns had established that she left her rented villa late Friday morning to do a bit of shopping. Neither woman was able to recall the exact time of her departure, but she drove past a security camera in the nearby town of Sant Miquel at 11:28a.m.She arrived in Ibiza Town shortlybefore noon and, after leaving her Mercedes in a public car park, had coffee andtorrijasat a café on the Vara de Rey. From there she window-shopped her way eastward to the marina, then stopped for a spritzer and tapas at Calma. Leaving the restaurant, she popped into Dolce & Gabbana and Dior before heading to Louis Vuitton, where she purchased a cotton ballcap.
“Price available upon request,” remarked Inspector Aragón.
“I’m told there’s video.”
