A Death in Valencia (23 page)

The train station was stuffy and noisy, groups of backpackers lying in piles in the middle of the floor as they sucked on plastic bottles of water and plaited each other's hair in the lull between connecting trains.

Cámara dragged a compact dark blue wheeled suitcase behind him as he stepped into the shade of the front porch and headed to the ticket office. Sunlight was reflecting off the shiny marble floor, lighting up the mosaic designs decorating the walls, showing bucolic scenes of Valencian farmers in traditional dress picking oranges from trees.

He took a number and waited his turn. A newspaper on the floor showed pictures of the riot that had taken place the day before: Emilia's bulldozers had moved back into El Cabanyal and were ripping down more fishermen's houses. Members of
El Cabanyal, Sí
had tried to stop them, tying themselves to the railings, but had been dragged away and beaten by members of the
Policía Local
. The violence wasn't only architectural, but physical.

‘
Dígame
.' The woman behind the hard plastic screen barked her command through a microphone.

‘A ticket to Madrid, please.'

‘Single or return?'

‘Single.'

He passed his bag through security, handed his ticket to a girl in a blue-and-white uniform, and found a space on the platform. From further up the track the white sleek form of the train was coming into view.

His mobile vibrated in his pocket. Lifting it out, he pressed the button. It was a text message from Hilario.

Dentro de la concha está la perla, aunque no puedas verla
, he'd written. The pearl is in the shell, even though you can't see it.

Cámara smiled as he stepped on to the train. His home–his shell–had been smashed. Now, his grandfather was telling him, was his chance to pick up a pearl of freedom nestling in the rubble.

He placed his suitcase on the rack and sat down next to the smoked-glass window.

The route would take him through the high, flat, burnt fields of La Mancha. His territory, his home.

It was dark by the time they pulled into the capital. The air was dry and hotter than on the coast, but the relief from the stickiness of the sea air made it feel cooler.

The taxi dropped him outside the front door. He found the button for her flat, pressed it and waited. Would she be in?

A pause, then the intercom crackled.

‘
¿Sí?
' came a woman's voice.

‘Alicia. It's Max,' he said. ‘There's something I want to tell you.'

Many thanks to my friends Rafa Campo of the
Policía Científica
, policeman-cum-novelist Inspector Sebastián Roa, and Inspector Esther Maldonado of the Valencia
Grupo de Homicidios
, for passing on details of how the Spanish National Police operates. Also to Fiona Wright for getting in touch and setting things in motion.

G. and V. gave me invaluable insights into the conditions faced by ordinary Spaniards in the years before the abortion laws were relaxed. Abortion is a delicate subject, and so I won't give their full names here, but I thank them for their candour and trust.

Thanks also to Alexandre Guerrero, Sandra Ferrandez and Gisela Dombek for their support, backup, ideas and good company.

My knowledge of the Cabanyal area was greatly enhanced by meeting Maribel Domenech, Rafa Brines and Rosanna Sagnelli. Many thanks to them for helping me get to know one of the most characteristic neighbourhoods in Valencia. Sadly, as I write this, the Town Hall still has plans to knock a large swathe through the
barrio
, as described in the book. A local pressure group,
Plataforma Salvem el Cabanyal
, is fighting the project. Their website is
www.cabanyal.com
.

Thanks again to everyone at Chatto and Vintage for their work on, and belief in, the Max Cámara series: Clara Farmer, Parisa Ebrahimi, Alison Hennessey, Bethan Jones, Vicki Watson, Jane Kirby, Monique Corless and Roger Bratchell. Mary Chamberlain is a genius who takes almost all of the pain away from copy editing. And very special thanks, as ever, to my editor Jenny Uglow, to whom I owe so much.

My agent, Peter Robinson, has been wonderful, and I thank him for his continued support and generosity. Thanks also to Alex Goodwin, for his patience and efficiency.

Lastly, my love and thanks to Salud, to Arturo, and to Gabriel, who was already on the way.