Midnight In Madrid

SIXTY-THREE

MADRID, SEPTEMBER 18

The next morning, Alex obtained her necessary permits and keys from the Policia Nacional as well as the City Police. She also placed a second call to Mark McKi

Alex traveled there by buses, three of them, a roundabout route. She got off the first bus quickly, reversed her path down a busy street, then caught the second and the third. Each time, she jumped off abruptly just before the vehicle was to pull out of a stop, each time watching to see if anyone followed. The only other American at the meeting involving the pieta’s theft had gone out a tenth-floor window, probably not voluntarily. One could never be too careful.

She found the designated bench in the shadow of the Grand Palacio. Across the street was the Cathedral of the Virgin of Almudena, patroness of Madrid. Alex’s eyes swept the block for danger. She saw none, but her insides were as jittery as a half-dozen frightened cats. She didn’t see McKi

The security code with McKi

She asked herself: How fast could she have her gun out and ready?

One second? Two?

She drew a breath, then let it go. It was 4:00 p.m. Then six minutes past four. Where was McKi

A homeless man approached her. He engaged her in a pointless conversation and eventually asked for money. She gave him two euros, and he went about his way, replaced immediately by a twenty-something couple holding hands, smooching, and not saying a thing as they seemed to wait for a bus.

Then the man took out a cell phone, made a call, and the two of them turned to walk away. There needed to be nothing to it, but linked to the homeless man, the events were consecutive, overlapping by seconds, as if the three of them were one of McKi

Or was she imagining things, she asked herself. She glanced at her watch.

Ten after. The heck with the pavement teams, maybe Mark was blowing her off with a no-show. She held her seat on the bench across from the palace. She watched the guards. The palace was magnificent, built to impress, just like Versailles, just like Buckingham Palace, just like Donald Trump’s home in Florida.

She tried to settle herself.

She turned her attention to the cathedral. The history gene within her reminded her of the Roman Catholic Church’s centuries of influence in Spain, from the pilgrims in the first ten centuries after Christ, through the Inquisition, through the Franco regime, and more subtly, into the present day. Her eyes drifted thoughtfully over the architecture, a gray neoclassic façade that echoed the architecture of the Palacio Real across the street. The pairing of the two buildings, the similarity in their feel and appearance, had been intended to emphasize the Church’s relationship with the Crown.

Four fifteen. She glanced at her cell phone. No calls. No alert involving Jean-Claude. Typical in this line of work. One never knew what was going on. Never.

She grew restless. Her back started to cramp. She stood up and strolled the block. A raging paranoia was rolling in on her, a sense that something big had been missed.

She came back to the bench. She felt eyes on her. She kept looking over her shoulder as she walked. The smooching young couple reappeared, hand in hand. The lovebirds stayed a constant half-block away from her.

Yeah, she had made them, all right. Now, with their reappearance, she knew Mark was imminent. So she remained seated. Four twenty. He was late. But sometimes late had no significance other than late.

The heat and humidity assaulted her. Rain clouds had formed. A few sprinkles came and went. Then, bingo. She saw a car stop quickly on the palace side of the street. Mark McKi

She watched Mark and knew the drill with the vehicle. His car would circle the block while they met, and somewhere another car had probably put one or two bodyguards on the street.

She sca

She doubted that McKi

That, or she had imagined everything. But she didn’t think she had. This venue was like a fuse to a cherry bomb.

McKi

“Hello, LaDuca,” he said. “What’s got your panties in a twist today?”

“I need to know a few things,” she said.

“We all do,” he answered. “What’s on your list? Then I’ll tell you what’s on mine.”

He sat. She stood. “Let’s walk,” she said.

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Let’s do it anyway.”

With a sigh, he acceded. He was up on his feet.

“Did you contact Peter yesterday and ask him to go see Floyd Co

“Distrustful, aren’t you? You’re checking up on Peter Chang.”

“That’s right. I am.”

“Peter’s your partner. What am I to think?”

“I’m being thorough. Could you answer my question?”

“Yes, I asked Peter to go over to see Co

“Why?” she asked.

“Why? Why not? That’s how I often do things if they’re important,” McKi

“You didn’t ask him to kill Co

“Ha! No. Why? Do you think I did?”

“A lot of things cross my mind,” she said. “Our black bird isn’t the most normal case.”

“What case is?” he asked. “Are you the normal working girl from Treasury? Is Peter the normal Chinaman from Shanghai? Lighten up, LaDuca. There is no normal. If something were normal, it would be abnormal, which would make it suspicious.”

“Even if you didn’t order it, I’m wondering if Peter freelanced it,” she said. “His interests in this case coincide with ours, but they’re not perfectly compatible.”

“Oh,” McKi