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I’m afraid I won’t be able to continue as Enrique’s instructor.”
    Ferrer took the envelope and thumbed through the banknotes. No amount of restraint could hide the pleasure in his eyes. “It’s no matter. We sold the piano. Enrique showed no interest in it. I’d be happy to give you a referral.”
    â€œI appreciate the offer, but I’ve secured employment elsewhere.”
    â€œReally? With whom?”
    â€œDon Guillermo Ramírez. He is a landowner just outside of Barcelona.”
    â€œI’ve heard of Ramírez. Isn’t he something of an artisan?”
    â€œHe does ornate metalwork on commission.”
    â€œA blacksmith.”
    â€œLike Gaudí was in construction.”
    Ferrer grunted and didn’t look impressed. He went to his desk and opened the file drawer, removing the CONFIDENTIAL folder. Diago’s pulse kicked up speed. He almost didn’t hear Ferrer’s next words. “I understand from Inspector Garcia you stopped an anarchist from setting off a bomb near a child.”
    Diago nodded and barely managed to move his numb lips. “That is true.”
    Ferrer placed the folder in his briefcase alongside the ledger. “CNT?”
    Some of the tension loosened in Diago’s chest. “It all happened very fast, but Inspector Garcia assured me the anarchists were involved. He asked I not say too much, because they’re still investigating.”
    â€œI understand.” Ferrer snapped shut his briefcase, and Diago’s heart rate returned to normal. “Thank you for coming, Alvarez.”
    Ferrer’s abrupt dismissals used to rankle Diago to no end. Today he felt nothing but relief. He bowed his head in Ferrer’s direction. “Please give my regards to your wife and son.”
    â€œThank you.” Ferrer rang for Elena.
    Diago followed her to the door, trying hard not to step on her heels. He expected Ferrer to call him back into the office to explain why he’d been pawing through the man’s private papers.
    They had reached the foyer when Señora Ferrer’s voice called from the kitchen. “Elena! Don’t we have another bottle of La Gitana?”
    â€œAn excellent sherry,” Diago said as he aimed himself toward the door. “I’ll see myself out.”
    Elena’s jaw tightened with irritation.
    He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he fled the apartment and headed for the elevator, quite happy to be done with the Ferrers once and for all. Except for the fragment. That might necessitate a return trip. He would let Guillermo decide what to do with the information.
    Diago rode the elevator to the main floor and exited the building. Outside, Garcia was nowhere to be seen. Either he had hidden himself well, or he was off on another task for Guillermo.
    Relieved, Diago turned toward the Gothic Quarter and decided to avoid the metro. Another encounter with Alvaro was the last thing he needed.
    He had just crossed the street when a police car rolled to a stop beside the curb. Had Ferrer discovered the missing memo? Diago made a conscious effort to keep his hand away from his pocket.
    The youth behind the wheel cranked down his window with ferocious speed. “Excuse me, Doctor Alvarez!”
    Doctor? Oh Jesus, what now? Diago bent over and saw Garcia’s terse face glowering from the passenger side of the car. This day was not getting better.
    Garcia emerged from the car. The urgency in his step alarmed Diago. His concern shifted from the stolen memo to Guillermo and Miquel. Had something happened to them?
    Garcia rounded the bumper.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Diago asked.
    Garcia clenched Diago’s bicep and propelled him to the car’s back door. “You’re a doctor now, do you understand?”
    Diago twisted free and lowered his voice. “Don’t touch me again.”
    â€œJust get in the fucking car.”
    â€œAt least tell me what kind of