Midnight in Madrid Read Online Free PDF Page A

already burned out from this type of work. A voice within her urged her toward a job, an assignment, that would combat poverty, disease, and hate, the things she felt were the challenges of the new century, and part of how she wanted to live out her Christian faith.
    “I still get to go back to Venezuela, right, Mike? Unfinished business and all.”
    “The Caracas assignment will happen down the road, Alex. But the US government needs to assign someone right away. Today. We got a request at the ambassadorial level. You’re in Spain already. You’re fluent in Spanish, you’ll charm the socks off the castizos in Madrid, and you do have a bit of a background in art history.”
    “How did you remember that?”
    “I didn’t. I have a memory like a sieve. But I’m looking at your c.v. Christian art courses for your Master’s at UCLA. Says it right here. So, listen,” he continued. “If you say yes, I’ll put you back on the active payroll as of yesterday morning. Instead of the money coming out of the ‘Head Case’ funds you’ll be back on active duty. What do you say?”
    A child’s soccer ball with the Barcelona team logo rolled onto her blanket from nearby, pursued by a smiling five-year-old boy. Alex gave him a friendly smile and gently flicked the ball back to him with her bare foot.
    She held her silence, just to let Mike twist a little in the wind.
    “Still there?” Gamburian finally asked.
    “Before I say yes, what exactly are you asking me to do?” Alex asked.
    “At first, go to a meeting at the US Embassy. You’ll meet some of our covert people in Spain and some people from various other European police agencies. You’ll be the point person for the US government and our combined intelligence agencies while you help the Spanish government recover a piece of ancient Christian artwork. Please say yes soon: I want to go home and catch the end of the family barbeque. Spare ribs don’t wait forever.”
    She turned and looked at the glittering Mediterranean, where tanned hard-bodied bathers romped, splashed, and laughed. She looked the other way, toward a busy promenade lined by small shops. On high white poles against a clear sky there flapped an array of flags from three dozen nations. The fresh salty air caressed her nostrils.
    Europe really didn’t seem so awful.
    A breeze swept across the beach. Something in the back of her mind reminded her of the grittiness of Washington in September, and on top of that, the tedium of some of the desk-bound investigatory work that would be on her desk. At least here she could call her own shots.
    “I suppose I could handle Europe for a few more weeks, Mike,” she said.
    “Excellent! We’ll book you into the Ritz in Madrid as a little perk,” he said, naming one of the best—and most expensive—hotels in the Spanish capital. “You’ll be comfortable there.”
    “I suspect I will be,” she said.
    “Do everyone a favor and take a soft route to get there,” he added. “Something that doesn’t leave a trail.”
    In other words, she thought, don’t fly.
    “Oh, and you’re going to need a new laptop. Do you want to shop for one and charge it to Treasury or should we deliver it to your hotel?”
    “I’ll buy one new in Madrid,” she said. That way she could be sure it was never out of her sight from the time she acquired it. She could install her own software and security codes.
    “Anything else?” she asked.
    “Yeah,” he said. “This little artifact that went missing from the museum—it’s got some legend to it. There’ll be a curator in Madrid who will give you the full story.”
    “What sort of legend?” Alex asked.
    “People claim it’s got supernatural powers. Spiritual stuff. Nothing you need to take seriously, but it might be an angle on why someone swiped it.”
    “I’ll call you from Madrid, Mike. Thanks.”
    “Oh, and finally,” he said. “You’ll love this part. This missing piece? It’s called the Pietà of Malta. Do