one
Most of the evil deeds of men come to meet them masked under the appearance of necessity; Then, having committed the bad action in a moment of euphoria, fear or delirium, we realize that it could have been avoided by passing it by.
Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo, 1844
The only thing immutable in this world is change, constant movement. Even the most peaceful and idyllic of landscapes pulses in tireless transit. Right now, at this moment, a waterbird emerges from its moss nest and takes flight. From the air it crosses willows, banana trees, chestnut trees and fir trees in the Puente Viesgo valley. Nature decorates the environment in a powerful way, and the vigor of ancient trees displays a chain of life and color that intoxicates the atmosphere, friendly and welcoming. It's still cold, but winter is about to say goodbye. The blackbird, oblivious to the beauty in which it lives, glides with gentle pirouettes through the air. Its small, plump black figure draws a route that follows the course of the Pas River, with shallow draft and crystal-clear waters. The landscape, lush and almost spring-like, unfolds beneath his little body like a map that, when opened, is a dream.
The blackbird prepares to descend, dive and hunt. When it takes its prey - perhaps a small insect - hardly any forest dweller will appreciate the change that this inevitable execution, necessary for survival, represents; however, and with the other invisible deaths that have already happened in the thickets by then, the whole ecosystem will be different.
But let's not lose sight of the blackbird. The tiny bird, not cut out for ruminations on existence, begins to approach the water. As he descends, he too does not appreciate the terrible change that is happening in the bowels of the great building with which he shares the river. If he wanted, he could divert his path and head towards the Gran Hotel Balneario de Puente Viesgo to fly over the skylights of the enormous Water Temple, which is hidden like a treasure in the bright basement of the facilities.
One thousand square meters and a huge pool at thirty-two degrees Celsius with waterfalls, swan necks, bubbling water beds and several jacuzzis. Without a doubt, the elegance of the facilities and the peaceful landscape that can be seen from its windows make the Water Temple a pleasant and luxurious paradise. However, a dramatic confusion seems to grow inside him. A brutal and ruthless crime has just been carried out. Its effect spreads through the installation as if it were an unstoppable waterfall full of poison. The impious crime will be discovered very soon. Who could imagine such a terrible way to despise life?
Let's get closer. If we look inside the thermal complex right now, we can see how the young Pau Saiz, dizzy, tries to get up from the sun lounger. Only a few minutes before he had reclined right there with a carefree expression. Now, his blonde hair is sticky to the sides of his face in a sickly cold sweat, and he wonders why someone turned off the lights. However, the Water Temple is a white and blue place, where pools and jets of light fill everything; The light illuminates the space from the large windows and from the enormous skylights in the ceiling, but Pau feels that he has suddenly fallen into darkness, because even the air becomes darker by the second. The young man, barely thirty years old, has an athletic and fibrous body, the result of regular exercise and a healthy life. However, he perceives with astonishment that his strength has suddenly abandoned him. His eyes hurt, his throat feels terribly dry and he is unable to bear the stench: it is a strange stench, which combines the strong smell of what seems like a disinfectant and something else, between sweet and acrid, that is indescribable.
Meanwhile, and as is usually the case in spas, the background music sounds soft and calm, warm. Noa's voice sings Beautiful That Way and she seems to want to take the pool users towards ultimate relaxation, towards a kind of vital parenthesis in which calm floods everything. However, Pau only sees dead people around him or people who, hopefully, have just lost consciousness. Some are already floating face down in the pool, and others are writhing on the floor, coughing, vomiting and on the verge of fainting. He knows each and every one of those dying human beings: they had closed the thermal complex to them for two hours. An important social work meeting, of barely twenty people counting their companions, held at the spa. After the business dinner, a restful sleep and a copious breakfast. Some massages, some treatments in the bathing gallery very early and the finishing touch at the Water Temple. There was only a meeting to eat and say goodbye until many months later. How could anyone imagine that that bath would be the last?
Finally, managing to gather strength that is being diluted somewhere, the young man manages to get up from the lounger. Among the gloom that he is able to glimpse, he checks that his uncle Iñaki is close to him and takes a few steps closer. A few seconds pass until he realizes that his uncle is no longer breathing; A terrible panicked grimace has been drawn on his face and he now looks, expressionless, towards the ceiling of the facility. Next to him, a person he is not able to recognize is foaming at the mouth, and Pau, now oblivious to any emotional reaction other than his own horror and fear, is surprised that a human being can generate so much foam. Soon, he realizes that the one who is dying in such a horrible way is Mr. Borrás; Next to him, he recognizes Álvaro Costas, a bald and overweight businessman from Valencia who now appears asleep, curled up in a fetal position on the floor.
The young man, stumbling and tripping over himself, manages to walk a few steps towards where he remembers the reception of the Water Temple is located. Although he doesn't feel cold, his body begins to tremble. He seems to distinguish on the ground, beyond and in the darkness, Elisa Wang, the young communications director of a company in Malaga that he met the night before. It seemed to him that Elisa was sitting at first, then lying down in a slightly strange movement. Now, surprisingly, he suddenly remembers how the previous day he had been impressed by her exotic, hybrid beauty, between European and Oriental, and her natural elegance in moving and speaking. Her skin had seemed like porcelain to him. Now the young woman is definitely lying on her back, with her long black hair drawing waves on the ground. Everyone was wearing a hat for the pool, but she must have dropped it when she collapsed. Pau crouches down awkwardly and sees that, in fact, the woman has lost consciousness. He tries to revive her and shakes her weakly to no avail. For a moment she opens her delicate slanted eyes, but at once she seems to succumb to the weight of a toxic and deep sleep; He too, terrified, realizes that his mind is sliding into an abyss where there is nothing, only silence and darkness. He understands that, if he wants to survive and save someone, he must continue with his initial idea and get out of that space as soon as possible. He needs air, light. He directs his gaze towards the exit and sees how, finally, on the other side of some lush plants and a glass wall that separates it from the reception, a spa employee is already walking towards them and stops, stunned, when she discovers the horrible massacre. Seeing such a beautiful oasis of water covered with dying people twisting on the ground must have been a shock to anyone. And not only was the dramatic canvas that had been drawn in just a few minutes terrifying; The uncertainty of what could have happened produced a much more disturbing sensation. In the face of an accident or even a crime, a witness could perhaps react more or less accurately; However, faced with an invisible enemy that suffocated its victims, what to do? What decisions to make, if not even one's own integrity was safe?
Pau thinks he notices how the woman gestures gravely, shouts and warns someone, then runs down the stairs and heads towards where he is. Instantly he understands the employee's intention to approach as quickly as possible, he has one last moment of lucidity and, while she runs with a look of horror on her face, he manages to raise a hand to signal that she is leaving. stop. He manages to say a desperate "No" and points, with a trembling hand, first towards the pile of what he already believes are corpses or, at least, people who have lost consciousness. Then, nervously, he directs his gesture towards a small, pretty bag that is near the body of his uncle Iñaki. From the simple container still flows a very thin thread of thick and strange fluid, which despite its density looks like transparent liquid wax. He wants to explain to him that it all started with that small container, which he remembers being taken out of a little blue box, but he doesn't feel capable.
The employee also understands Pau's message, perhaps because of his signal or because of the strange smell in the room, and she puts a handkerchief over her face to avoid directly breathing the air, which she already suspects is poisonous. She tries to grab Pau by her waist so that he can lean on her so that he can walk towards the exit, but the boy seems to be choking.
The young man seeks serenity and self-control within himself and tries to breathe deeply, but it is impossible. He feels materially unable to fill his lungs. The air, suddenly, is as if he had disappeared. Pau feels as if his head was suddenly empty, turned into a useless container, and he collapses unconsciously on the elegant paving.
Meanwhile, in the background music, Noa finishes the song and reminds with her soft voice that we should smile for no reason and always love with the clean and innocent dedication of children. Outside, the blackbird has already caught a tiny minnow and swallowed it in a single gesture. She leaves the river and takes flight to continue enjoying the music of the water and the flowery, green paradise of it. When the emergency sirens begin to be heard in the distance, the bird is already hidden in its nest and the world appears to continue to be a calm and still place.
2
What does the word 'crime' mean? [...] Many of the benefactors of humanity, those to whom power has not come by inheritance, but rather have seized it by violence, must have been delivered to the scaffold from the first moment; but those people went to the end, and that is what justifies them.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment, 1866
If we followed the invisible path of the air, perhaps we could have flown from the crime scene to the north, where the waves have conversed with the coast for centuries. There, just twenty minutes by car from the Puente Viesgo Spa, there is a small town called Suances. One of those places where you can be happy without realizing it, where you can walk during the summers and where you can return with your memory during the winters. A dock full of modest fishing boats, with a coast prepared for tourists and to surrender to the beauty. When the traveler reaches the Los Locos cliff, so wild and abrupt, so imposing, he knows that he is facing a refuge. And not one made of stone and landscape, but of pure natural energy. Sky, sea, land and immensity.
Towards the interior, on the other side of the Locos cliff, is Villa Marina, a mansion from the beginning of the 20th century converted into a small beach hotel. It has direct access to a placid sandy area and, within its very large property, a cabin inhabits the land as if it were a living being. The small construction – which is just a hundred meters from the hotel – hides its two heights with the slope of the hill and looks from its porch towards La Concha beach, which is shaped like a wide crescent. Although we are at the end of a morning in a humid month of March, the winter sun still offers a splendid day, and in the hallway of the picturesque construction two men and a lieutenant of the Judicial Police are playing cards . At the same time, they finish eating a kind of rich brunch that is spread out on large plates on the table and which is practically the midday meal. At her feet, a beagle dog named Duna seems to doze restlessly, as if in her dreams she was trying to catch a mouse.
—You are cheaters, you are making up the rules! —the lieutenant complains, feigning indignation—. Are you sure this is a genuinely Scottish game? “I could call Grandma Emily to check,” she suggests, with a sly smile that she directs toward her fiancé, Oliver Gordon. He, who must be about to turn forty but maintains a youthful and athletic appearance, raises his hands in a gesture of innocence.
"Don't look at me, this is the one who is setting the rules," he excuses himself, looking towards his friend Michael Blake, "and I assure you that I have never seen my grandmother play cards in my life."
The aforementioned, Michael, is a young man—similar in age to Oliver—but with a somewhat disheveled appearance. Although his clothes are elegant and casual, in his case they seem like an accessory and secondary element, as if he had put them on anyway. Now that he feels directly addressed by Oliver, he raises his blonde eyebrows and sighs with a somewhat mannered gesture, appearing with his expression that he is summoning all his reserves of patience, although the truth is that he is holding back a laugh.
—What is my fault, if there are only three of us and the rules that I know about spoil five are for five? —She defends herself. Her accent is strange, between English and Andalusian, the result of having received Spanish classes from a Sevillian teacher.
"I knew you were cheating," she smiles again, making her one green eye shine in a ray of sunlight. Her other eye, completely black, also watches the play suspiciously. The whole of her face is curious: in addition to the shocking color contrast in her gaze, a narrow scar outlines the contour of her jaw.
—You offend me, Valentina! Do I cheat? An honorable English lord!
—You are not lord!
"Oliver," Michael complains, looking away at his friend, "tell your girlfriend she's creating a diplomatic conflict."
—I remind you that I have to go organize departures from the hotel in a while, are you giving cards or what? —Oliver replies with a smile, looking at the clock and ignoring it. In reality, and even though he lives with Valentina in the cabin, he is the owner of Villa Marina, and manages it while teaching English at the University of Santander.
Suddenly, Michael screams into the air and puts his hand to his face, in a clearly effeminate gesture.
"Dammit!" A nine of diamonds!
Valentina looks with a skeptical expression at the card that Michael has just drawn from the deck. Her attitude gives her a feline and cunning air, difficult to describe. A unique energy that gives him charisma and a strange appeal.
—Let's see if I guess, with the nine of diamonds you win the game? What a coincidence, right?
-No no! —he exclaims, pretending to be worried—. I'm going to lose the game, for sure. This card is the curse of Scotland!
“The curse of Scotland,” Valentina repeats slowly, with a mocking expression.
Then, while waiting for an implausible explanation, he takes a look at the mobile phone screen. It's his day off, but as a lieutenant in a homicide section of the Civil Guard he must be alert. He checks that they don't have any messages; However, he feels a strange uneasiness, as if some element did not fit in the morning air and something was about to happen. Indeed, and to magically and somewhat sinisterly confirm his feeling of unease, the phone rings. He gets up and walks away from the porch, leaving Oliver and Michael to continue the conversation while little Duna takes the opportunity to climb onto the empty chair, as if it were her turn to play cards. On the table, the nine of diamonds lies face up, as if it were an omen.
Valentina Redondo takes her steps automatically towards the interior of the cabin. If the reason for the call is serious, she will have to change to attend Peñacastillo. She doesn't normally wear a uniform, but she also can't go to Headquarters in the sports clothes she's been wearing since she went for a walk with Oliver first thing in the morning. Captain Caruso also seems very agitated. He is a man of Italian descent and normally, as if in an unconscious nod to the stereotypes of his ancestors, he gestures and exaggerates quite a bit when speaking. Sometimes Valentina believes that she only preserves that way of moving because of the visits she makes every summer to her family in Rome, her hometown. On the other end of the phone, the captain drums his fingers on the mat of his desk and feels the weight of his sixty years more than ever. They have been talking for a while and to Valentina the information still seems biased and confusing.
—I understand that it's your day off, Redondo, but the issue is serious and I need you in Puente Viesgo, I don't know if we'll have a fucking terrorist attack there or what the hell.
-As? But, captain... What you have told me so far seems more like poisoning, a regrettable event with multiple victims that...
—No, Redondo, this is more serious, and I want you to go there with your team. You won't be able to access the hot spot until the area is safe, but the fire department is on it. See whether or not we are facing a maximum alarm, that since the toxic agent is still unknown, they are having to use maximum protection PPE, with chemical filters and respirators independent of the atmosphere.
—But don't you have any clues? A gas leak, a... I don't know, an accident... Maybe a radioactive element that...
Valentina herself interrupted herself. A radioactive element in a spa that kills several people in just a few minutes? She was thinking out loud and, quite possibly, she was just speculating vacuously, meaninglessly. Captain Caruso, despite his excitement on the other end of the line, seemed to understand that silence. He took a breath and understood that he had offered the data to Valentina in a scattered manner, without order. He started again.
—Let's focus, damn. Let's visualize. Eighteen people from a corporate group giving each other treatments, massages and the whole damn wellness package. Then they close the Water Temple for them for two hours, and a few minutes after reaching the pool they all begin to faint or drop dead. So far so good, right?
-Yes captain. But he hasn't told me yet how many victims...
—That's the funny thing, you see? Because there are only four deaths. Four! And we thought there were more, but it turns out that the doctors have revived many... They say it seemed like they were sedated.
—¿Sedated?
Valentina's question was almost an exclamation.
-I know I know. If that's true, how the hell did they get drugged? From the outset, it doesn't seem like they were poked or that there were any episodes of explicit violence... Maybe they were half drunk from intoxication, just like that, eh? We will have to check what they may have consumed before entering the spa... —the captain reflected, as if he were talking to himself—. Although, from what we know so far, for breakfast they went to the hotel buffet, like the rest of the guests.
—Well, what about the corpses? Has the lifting already taken place?
—Not yet, because until the offending chemical agent is identified, the area is not safe. The UME has already been notified and is on its way, and of our boys there are already two SEDEX agents in Puente Viesgo,” he explained, referring to the GEDEX team of the Command that had seen its explosives deactivation service expanded to also cover chemical threats.
—Is the EMU coming here? —Valentina was surprised, who let out an outburst. But it will take at least three or four hours to get there from León! "She," she calculated, still surprised by the fact that they had already resorted to the Military Emergency Unit, which was prepared for attacks and chemical, nuclear, radiological and biological technological risks.
—You already know the protocol, they have sent a first intervention vehicle and the rest of the team will follow it.
—What is clear is that, if the victims have been drugged, this was no accident. Is there no clue to the contaminating element, no indication?
—A little box. It's like a fucking gift bag, with bows and everything.
-That?
—Yes, Redondo, it is the epitome of twistedness, because you have to be the son of a bitch. The main toxic agent was in a box that looked like typical spa products, but when I opened it it had a liquid that I was told looks like mucus, almost transparent... Quite disgusting. They are now checking that there are no other contaminating chemical sources.
—That is, they were going after everyone who was in the pool... What business group are we talking about?
—Formally, none. There are several companies in the construction and real estate sector that collaborate with each other. An ordinary BNI, but of category, let me explain?
"A BNI?" —Valentina hesitated, showing that she did not know the meaning of those acronyms.
—A business network... Independent companies that collaborate with each other, passing clients or complementing each other... I think it is at an international level, although the one we are dealing with is only Spanish companies. Those who were in Puente Viesgo move a lot of money, we have confirmed that, but from the outset we are not aware of any irregularities or any ongoing investigation, although we still have to study it. This is a fucking salad of companies, because some are Basque, others Catalan, there are three Valencians, one from Malaga, two from Valladolid...
—And there still hasn't been any group claiming responsibility for the attack?
—No, but an employee of the spa has disappeared. A guy who had only been working at the facility for half a year and who was in charge of the group.
—We'll have to pull from there...
—A search device has already been ordered.
—And the witnesses? If fourteen have survived...
—That's another one, Redondo. I think they are all in the hospital or on the way, although at the moment it does not seem that any of them are ready for interrogation. But pay attention, we are missing three.
-Three?
—Yes, because the entire group was twenty-one... Three of them had decided not to go to the Water Temple at the last minute, apparently to see the Puente Viesgo caves.
-In the last moment? What a coincidence, right?
—There it is, what a coincidence. We will have to review the details.
—Do they have a history?
—No, the bastards look like little sisters of charity, they are clean.
—And the victims? It could be a settling of scores or a business issue that...
"We've already considered that possibility," the captain said, "but other than a traffic ticket, it seems the victims are all clean."
A snort was heard on the other end of the phone. Valentina was thinking.
—We will have to delve into the history of the three who were not at the spa.
"Wait," Caruso apologized, in a hurried tone. In the background you could notice a lot of activity: voices, papers, phones ringing; The captain gave a couple of instructions and continued the conversation. I already have the press going crazy with this matter... What bastards, I don't know how they always find out so quickly. What were you saying to me? Oh, yes... —he resolved himself after a second—. One of the people who went to the caves is the daughter of one of the victims and the cousin of one of the most seriously injured... So let's work tactfully, eh, Redondo?
-Yes captain.
—Riveiro is already there with Corporal Camargo, everything is under control, okay? You don't need to leave at full speed or anything like that, because until the hot spot is safe they won't let anyone pass, but as soon as you arrive, let me know and keep an eye on the display. Are we here?
-We are.
Valentina hung up the phone and stared at the screen to which her captain asked her to be permanently attentive. What a strange case! Without a doubt, she lacked a lot of information to compose a real and complete idea of that massive crime. Of course, what had happened was unusual. Normally, the killings followed clear patterns and were almost always for personal reasons, but the fact that so many individuals had been targeted at the same time was a form of aggression with little or no precedent in the area. What dark and sinister motive could have an action as cruel as that? What toxicant would they have used? Without a doubt, its effects on the human body must have been terribly painful.
For Valentina, evil was a perfectly definable, perverse and sick concept, but in a case like that it was difficult for her to understand it and assimilate its true dimensions. She strode purposefully into the bedroom to change, and there she found her huge Siberian cat, Agatha, curled up by the window. The cat was not sleeping, but he was staring at her, alert, as if he knew what had just happened and what was to come. Valentina quickly passed by her and caressed her back while she calculated how many respirators there were in the Command, wondering if that material could provide truly clean air, independent of the outside atmosphere. In reality, she knew that she would not be able to access the site of the attack until the danger had been eliminated, but in her mind she already anticipated any possible emergency in which, even breaking protocol, she would have to intervene. Instantly, she Valentina narrowed her eyes. She had just realized that it would be essential to notify Second Lieutenant Sabadelle, with whom she did not always have an easy relationship. Only he and Riveiro had done the last CBRN refresher course against nuclear, radiological, biological and chemical agents. The lieutenant took a breath and dialed the second lieutenant's number. In this matter she was going to need all of her team. Without exception.
After speaking with Sabadelle, Valentina finished changing and went out to say goodbye to Oliver and Michael. They were both still entangled in their conversation about the supposed curse of the nine of diamonds card, and it took them a while to realize that she had returned. The lieutenant, even though she was fully aware of the urgency that required her, restrained herself for a few seconds. She enjoyed those moments, maintaining a discreet silence, as if the home scene tied her to a kinder reality.
Michael was reading in a declamatory, somewhat exaggerated tone, information that he had apparently just searched on the Internet on his mobile phone.
—...And it was the Duke of Cumberland who in the 18th century ordered in writing, on the back of a nine of diamonds, that all survivors of the Battle of Culloden be annihilated, and since then it has been claimed that...
—How heavy! —Oliver denied, interrupting him—. It was that, but with the massacre of Glen Chloe, in the 17th century!
"No, quillo," replied the other categorically, "which is what it says here about Culloden." Either that, or that every ninth king of Scotland was a tyrant, I can't remember. Also, what is this about Glen Chloe?
"Ah, so it turns out that since the Jacobites had lost the war, they had to swear allegiance to the new king... They were going to do it, but the postal service in the Highlands was not very fast, so among the The desire they had for the MacDonalds and the excuse that the new oath had not yet been confirmed...
—What MacDonald, the hamburger guys?
—And what do I know! —Oliver laughed, shrugging his shoulders; he was English of Scottish descent and even had a family home with his father and his grandmother Emily in Stirling, in the south of Scotland, but he was unaware of many details of the clans' history. But I do assure you that they killed more than thirty MacDonalds in cold blood, who had actually sworn allegiance... And, on the rebound, they liquidated more than forty relatives who had to flee to the mountains of Glen Cloe and died of cold.
Michael listened carefully. As a clarinetist and composer, he often seemed to find himself in a bit of another world, where music filled everything. However, his sharp and pungent sense of humor revealed that he was truly attentive to what was happening around him. He frowned and made a slight face of resignation.
—Anyway, those soldiers were following orders, man.
"No, Michael," Oliver denied, "what happened was crazy." Even then it must have caused a tremendous stir, because otherwise it would not have even reached our ears.
-They were different times. Either they stuck the knife in or they slit their throat, what do you think? The real person responsible would be whoever gave the order, not the soldiers.
Valentina finally revealed her presence, leaned on the table and intervened.
—It's curious, isn't it? Depending on the norms of each era, one can be a murderer or a hero. Everything is very relative.
Michael watched her curiously.
—You work in a military body, Valentina. You are a soldier and you will always do what...
"No," she corrected, "I'm a lieutenant in a homicide section, not a soldier." It's very different.
—Okay, but you obey orders.
—Only under norms, values and parameters that I have previously accepted.
Michael looked at Oliver.
—Is he always this wise?
"Always," he confirmed with a gesture of regret, as if the situation were very serious. Then he signaled to Valentina and directed her gaze toward her cell phone. She understood that she was asking him who had called her. He was about to respond when Michael returned to the subject of the crimes, addressing her precisely.
—Well, I think you understand me, right? I just want to say that everyone follows their own system, and those soldiers followed orders simply out of obedience and to survive.
Oliver put his right hand to his dark hair, which he combed automatically with the gesture. Then he turned his cobalt blue gaze towards his friend.
—It is the paradox of crime; You know what they say... Kill a man and you'll be a murderer; kill millions and you will be a conqueror...
"Ah," Michael himself interrupted, "isn't that from Jean Rostand?" How did he end up? —He asked himself, concentrated, to change his expression when he seemed to remember it—. Kill them all, and you will be a god!
Valentina sighed. That conversation was promising, but she couldn't delay her departure to Puente Viesgo any longer.
"I'm sorry to miss your debate on the paradoxes of humanity, but," he smiled, bowing to each one, "Socrates, Plato, I have to leave immediately." "The one who called me before was Captain Caruso," she added, with a significant look at Oliver, who changed his expression to an expression of unease.
A day off, call from the Command. Bad business.
Valentina briefly explained why she was leaving for work on her day off, leaving Oliver even more worried. No wonder: she was deliberately heading towards the hot zone of the incident, where an unidentified chemical attacking agent had knocked down more than a dozen people in just a few minutes.
"You'll be okay, sure?" Do you want me to accompany you?
—Shall I accompany you to teach classes at the university? —she replied sarcastically.
—No, but my life is not in danger there.
She laughed and looked at Michael, who was just a few feet away.
—Michael, if an intruder attacked us now, who would you want to defend you?
"You, of course," he said, exaggeratedly feigning absolute conviction. Suddenly, a doubt seemed to arise in his mind. In the Civil Guard they teach you martial arts and that kind of things, right?
She smiled and bit her lower lip; She shook her head, saying goodbye to her and giving Oliver a long kiss on the lips, who followed her with his gaze. They were getting married in just two weeks, and he had already resigned himself to Valentina always being entangled in cases that were, to say the least, disturbing. Michael approached his friend.
—Don't worry, if it's a toxic gas, if you don't breathe, nothing will happen to you.
-That?
-Just kidding. Can't you see they have masks? Valentina could still hear some other phrase as she walked away from her, knowing that Michael's jokes were not intended to downplay the danger, but to challenge it as much as possible. How could she imagine that this affair would change her perspective on things and life forever? When she got into the car, she could see Agatha at the door of the cabin. Normally she had a detached and elusive character, although sometimes, for no apparent reason, she would take refuge in her lap for a while, without looking at her, and then disappear again. Now, the huge, furry, light-colored cat meowed in a pitiful and serene way, as if she had already assumed a very deep sorrow. Lieutenant Redondo could not guess if the feline reflected her own tension or if, as a warning, she regretted with a sixth sense what was about to happen.
