Midnight In Madrid

“Then why mention it?” Alex asked.

“What?” It was obvious he wasn’t quite in the bag, but well on his way.

“Why mention it?”

“Well, it was a curious feeling,” McKi

A moment passed. McKi

“Okay,” Alex said.

Chang gave her a shrug. McKi

“Thanks,” Alex finally said, “for saving my life.”

“No big deal,” Chang said.

“Actually, to me it was.”

THIRTY-FIVE

MADRID, SEPTEMBER 10, EARLY AFTERNOON

For Maria Elena Gómez, the new week was not going well.

José Luis, her new partner this week in Pedro’s absence, was an even bigger pain to work with than she had imagined. On their first day together, he had been as aggravating as any man she had ever had to work with. He was slow and inattentive to detail. His attention would wander, he would want to sneak off for cigarettes, and he had a machísmo attitude that she found unbearable, an attitude best exemplified by her doing all the work and him supervising. Or so it seemed.

She had had more than enough of him as they inspected the electrical junctions at the Sevilla station in the old city. While Maria was busy noting a frayed cable that could short circuit if any rain swept down into the station, she looked up to find him not taking the notes as she suggested, but rather watching a gaggle of American girls in shorts and minis, as they waited for a train.

“Are you here to look or are you here to work?” she asked him.

“I’m here to look,” he said.

“Then why don’t you find another partner?” she snapped.

“Because you’re prettier than most of the cows who work for the Metro.”

“I should report you for a remark like that,” she said. “Maybe I will.”

“I’ll deny I ever said it,” he smirked. “You know how women imagine things. If you come on to them, they complain. If you don’t, they’re insulted.”

She handed him a clipboard, almost throwing it at him. The American girls turned and watched the argument and gri

“Just shut up and work,” she said tersely as a train rumbled into the station. “Or I will report you. I swear.”

He growled but finally got the message, taking the proper notes as she gave them to him, filling out the proper maintenance request that would be turned in at the end of the day.

They track-walked to the next station, Banco de España, in near silence, moving slowly. They twice stepped to the side en route when the red warning lines cautioned them about an advancing train. They found nothing worthy of note in the tu

José Luis took the occasion to sing the praises of Real Madrid.

“I support Atlético,” she said sharply.

He laughed. “Sabes, no comprendo que una bonita mujer sensata como tú seas hincha de ese equipo de perdedores.” I don’t understand how a pretty girl like you could be a fan of a bunch of losers like that.

“Por que no te callas!” Why don’t you just shut up? “For the rest of the week.”

José Luis smirked in response. She knew that lurking beneath the surface, he was one of those men who didn’t feel women should even have these jobs walking the tracks. She was in a genuinely foul mood by now. The attack on Atlético she even felt as a shot at her late father. She felt sadness mixing with her anger and wished the week was already over.

But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

THIRTY-SIX

MADRID, SEPTEMBER 10, MID-AFTERNOON

McKi

Alex turned to him.

“Let’s talk about The Pietà of Malta,” Alex finally said. “And maybe you can also bring me up to speed on why we’re here and why two people have already been shot dead right in front of me.”

“Of course,” McKi

“Several times,” he said. “This is one of my favorite places in Europe.”

Turning to him, Alex asked, “And you speak Spanish, I assume?”

“Claro que sí, Señorita,” he said. “Spanish, French, English, Cantonese, and Mandarin,” he said. “Interchangeably.”

“Peter works for the Chinese government,” McKi

“Which branch? You don’t exactly look like a trade delegate, looking to dump a lot of cheap toasters on the Marcado Común.”

“The Guojia Anquan Bu,” he said without a smile.

“The Ministry of State Security?” she asked. “Peking’s version of the CIA.”

“Exactly,” McKi

“So the Chinese government has an interest in The Pietà of Malta also?” Alex asked.

“Very much so,” McKi

Alex waited for a moment. McKi

“That’s correct.”

“And the curator mentioned that this missing artifact had a tie to St. Francis, the highly revered saint, at least according to legend.”

“That’s right. That was mentioned,” Alex answered. “And if the case is so important to the two of you, why weren’t the two of you at the briefing?”

“I wasn’t invited. And I wasn’t even aware of the case till Peter contacted me.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Mark. You had someone in that meeting on your agency’s behalf,” she said, thinking of Rizzo.

“Very true. And as you yourself know, sometimes the Indian chiefs don’t know what the braves and warriors are up to. May I go on?”

“Please do.”

“I’ve done a bit of study on this myself in the last week,” McKi

“In what sense?” she asked.

“His evangelism. Do you know where I’m heading with this?” McKi

“I discussed the point with Señor Rivera yesterday,” Alex said. “So what’s the point? How does this impact the theft of the pietà?”

“On our black bird? Follow along. The US government was asked to help the Spaniards recover The Pietà of Malta,” McKi

“No,” she said. “None. A lot of information, but no leads.”

“So you were in a roomful of people poised to accomplish nothing, in other words,” McKi

“Keep a lid on that wise-guy stuff, okay, Mark? You know how these things work as well as I do,” she said.

“Sure. But that’s where counterpart agencies would appear to have common goals. Peter’s government wishes to see that the pietà is returned also.”