Page List


Font:  

Fermín gulped.

‘I want you to know that I find such atrocities repugnant. That’s one of the t

wo reasons why you’re here, and why I’ve ordered Salgado to be moved to your cell. Because I believe that when people talk they get to understand one another. I want you to discover where he’s hidden the stash from the Vilajoanas, and from all the other thefts and crimes he committed in the last few years, and I want you to tell me.’

Fermín felt his heart fall to the ground.

‘And the other reason?’

‘The second reason is that I’ve noticed that you have recently become pals with David Martín. Which is fine by me. Friendship is a virtue that ennobles humans and helps rehabilitate prisoners. I’m not sure if you know that Martín is a writer of sorts.’

‘I’ve heard something.’

The governor threw him an icy glance but kept up his friendly smile.

‘Martín isn’t a bad person, really, but he’s mistaken about a lot of things. One of them is this naïve notion that he has to protect the weak and the innocent and such.’

‘How extravagant of him.’

‘Indeed. That’s why I thought that perhaps it would be good if you keep close to him, with your eyes and ears well open, and tell me what he tells you, what he thinks and feels … I’m sure there must be something he’s mentioned to you that has caught your attention.’

‘Come to think of it, Governor, he’s recently been complaining quite a lot about a spot in his groin where his underpants rub against him.’

The governor sighed and muttered something under his breath, visibly tired from having to feign so much politeness with such an undesirable specimen.

‘Look here, you imbecile, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’m trying to be reasonable, but all I have to do is to pick up the phone and your friend Fumero will be here in half an hour. I’ve been told that lately, as well as the welding torch, he keeps a cabinetmaker’s toolbox in one of the basement cells with which he works wonders. Am I making myself clear?’

Fermín clasped his hands to hide his trembling.

‘Beautifully. Forgive me, Governor. I hadn’t eaten beef for so long that the protein must have gone straight to my head. It won’t happen again.’

The governor resumed his smile and continued as if nothing had happened.

‘In particular, I’m interested in finding out whether he’s ever mentioned a cemetery of forgotten books, or dead books, or something along those lines. Think carefully before you answer. Has Martín ever talked to you about such a place?’

Fermín shook his head.

‘I swear, sir, I’ve never in my life heard Señor Martín, or anyone else, mention that place …’

The governor winked at him.

‘I believe you. And that’s why I know that if he does mention it, you’ll tell me. And if he doesn’t, you’ll bring up the subject and find out where it is.’

Fermín nodded repeatedly.

‘And one more thing. If Martín talks to you about a job I’ve asked him to do for me, convince him that in his own best interests, and in particular those of a certain young lady he holds in very high esteem, as well as the husband and child of the latter, he’d better get cracking and write his best work.’

‘Do you mean Señora Isabella?’ Fermín asked.

‘Ah, I see he’s mentioned her to you … You should see her,’ said the governor while he wiped his glasses with a handkerchief. ‘Young, really young, with that firm schoolgirl flesh … You don’t know how often she’s been sitting here, right where you are now, pleading for that poor wretch Martín. I won’t tell you what she’s offered me because I’m a gentleman but, between you and me, the devotion this girl feels for Martín is very telling. If I had to make a bet, I’d say that kid, Daniel, isn’t her husband’s but Martín’s. He might have abysmal taste when it comes to literature but an exquisite eye for sluts.’

The governor stopped when he noticed that the prisoner was giving him an impenetrable look which he didn’t appreciate.

‘What are you staring at?’ he challenged him.

He banged the table with his knuckles and instantly the door behind Fermín opened. The two guards grabbed him by his arms, hauling him up from his chair until his feet were dangling in the air.

‘Remember what I’ve told you,’ said the governor. ‘In four weeks’ time I want you in that chair again. If you bring me results, I can assure you your stay here will change for the better. If not, I’ll book you into the basement cell with Fumero and his toys. Are we clear?’


Tags: Carlos Ruiz Zafón The Cemetery of Forgotten Mystery