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which faced Ana. He recognized the patterns of raised dots as braille, and marvelled at this technology that would allow him to penetrate her darkness and speak to her silence.

Her head was slightly raised as he walked around her, turning to track his movements, like some feral animal following his scent. And he realized that’s probably exactly what she was doing. He returned to the screen with the winking cursor and sat down in front of it. Nobody had typed on it since Mackenzie earlier in the afternoon.

– Ana, it has been my great pleasure to meet you. However, I must drag your niece away. We have a meeting soon at Marviña, and she is yet to take me for something to eat.

Cleland knew instinctively that these were the words of the Scot with whom he had fought on the boat at the marina. Hadn’t Cleland himself been standing in a doorway out there in the street when Mackenzie left with the bitch?

He scrolled quickly back and scanned Cristina’s account of her visit to the hospital with Nuri, her conversation with Paco. And he smiled. Such a tight little family. All gathering themselves before him to facilitate his feasting from that dish best served cold.

‘What do you want!’ Ana’s voice raised itself to an almost hysterical pitch, sudden and startling in the silence of the room.

He scrolled back to the cursor and typed.

– Hello.

He was aware of some faint vibration alerting her to text on her screen. Trembling fingers lifted to read the dots that had raised themselves there. He watched as she recoiled in fear and confusion.

‘Sergio?’ she said, more in hope than in any real expectation that it might be him.

– Try again.

‘Who are you?’ Full-blown hysteria now. And he enjoyed her fear.

– I think, perhaps, your niece might have mentioned me. She and her colleagues are having such trouble finding me.

The blood drained from Ana’s face, leaving it ghostly pale. She said, ‘Cristina is not responsible for that young woman’s death. You shot her.’

She was unprepared for the force of the open hand that slapped hard across her face and very nearly knocked her from her chair. She cried out, as much in fear as in pain. Then more dots were raised on her screen.

– She made me do it! And you are going to help me make her pay for that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The smell of barbecued meat filled the tiny apartment. Sliding glass doors to the balcony at the rear of the block were open, and the chatter of swallows dipping and diving in the warm night air outside was nearly deafening. The room itself resounded to the blare of a television whose volume was set far too high.

Antonio was in the kitchen. Lucas sat at the table amidst a pile of books and jotters, his head tilted into an open palm, a pen twirling absently in his other hand, his eyes drawn towards a cartoon flickering on the TV screen.

Mackenzie followed Cristina into the apartment as she strode across the living room to switch off the television. With only the birds now for competition, she shouted, ‘For God’s sake, what’s wrong with you people? Are you deaf? If the neighbours report us again we’ll be asked to leave.’

Antonio appeared in his bare feet at the kitchen door wearing a T-shirt and jeans. His smile was less than welcoming. ‘And how was your day, darling?’ He nodded at Mackenzie.

Cristina released her belt with its empty holster and let it fall on to the settee. ‘What are you cooking?’

It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Antonio stuck his jaw out defensively. ‘I thought you might be pleased, not having to make dinner for once.’ His head tilted in Mackenzie’s direction. ‘Only I didn’t know we were going to have company.’

Cristina sniffed the air. ‘What is it?’

‘Barbecued ribs.’

She looked at him in astonishment. ‘You prepared them yourself?’

His look turned sheepish, but still defensive. ‘I bought them at Mercadona. Oven-ready. They take just twenty minutes.’

‘Jesus, Antonio! We can’t afford to go buying pre-packaged food. It’s crazy expensive.’

‘It’s a treat,’ he said. ‘Just this once. I got commission on a sale today.’ Then, deflecting further argument, he nodded towards Lucas. ‘You’d be better off paying more attention to your son. He came home with his report card today.’

‘Is it bad?’

But Antonio had already turned back into the kitchen. He called over his shoulder, ‘Take a look for yourself.’

Cristina brushed past the embarrassed Mackenzie and found the report card half-buried under her son’s books. The boy assiduously avoided her eye as she scrutinized it.

But a commentary on it came from the disembodied voice in the kitchen. ‘English and Spanish good. Maths and science well below average. Take a look at the teacher’s comments.’

Cristina read aloud, ‘Lucas is a clever boy, but he just doesn’t try. His concentration is poor. He’s a daydreamer.’

Mackenzie recalled similar comments on the report cards he took home from his teachers. Only, he could silence them all with his exam results.

Cristina looked at her son accusingly. ‘A daydreamer, Lucas? What are you daydreaming about?’

The boy’s simmering resentment bubbled to the surface. ‘About getting away from school,’ he shouted, his lower lip trembling. ‘Other kids have parents who help them. My dad wouldn’t know a prime number from a right-angled triangle. And my mum’s never here!’

Mackenzie cleared his throat and said, ‘A prime number is a whole number greater than one, whose only factors are one and itself.’ And was startled by disbelieving eyes that turned in his direction. Antonio had reappeared at the kitchen door. But the silence occasioned by his outburst lasted only a moment. Lucas was on a roll.

‘And now you’re sending strange foreigners to pick me up from school.’

Cristina frowned. ‘What are you talking about? What strange foreigners?’ She glanced at Mackenzie. ‘You?’

Mackenzie shook his head, perplexed.

‘No,’ Lucas said, surly now. ‘At lunchtime. When I was walking back from Burger King.’

‘Burger King?’ Antonio was astonished. ‘What the hell were you

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