Blood Red by Quintin Jardine Read Free Book Online Page B

grinning.
    ‘Well, I’m sorry to shatter your illusions, but not only was he capable, he did. The last night that he and I ever spent together, in New York, he told me everything about his life that I hadn’t known before.’
    Gerard sighed; I had shaken him. ‘Did he ever confess these sins?’ he asked.
    ‘As in, to a priest? No chance; I was as close as he got to that, and we were hardly in the confessional at the time . . . although I suspect that there may be as much truth told between the sheets as in your wee cabinet.’
    ‘I wouldn’t know about that . . . but it could be that there is less omitted.’ He shivered for a second. ‘And you, Primavera,’ he whispered. ‘What are you capable of?’
    I looked him in the eye again. ‘Protecting the people I love, whatever it takes.’
    ‘Does that include me?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then please promise me that you never will, not for me, that you’ll always leave me to look after myself.’
    ‘I’ll make that promise when I can tell the future, but not before.’
    We sat in silence for a while, sipping wine. (One of the great things about being out with a priest is that he always insists on driving, so you’re never going to be stopped by the police.)
    ‘Are you really going to pay this money?’ He had moved on.
    ‘Sure. I’ve said that I will.’
    ‘But two million pesetas is a ridiculous amount. What if Justine refuses to sanction it?’
    ‘She will. Planas went to see her this afternoon, and she called me as soon as he had left her office, to check that he wasn’t lying in his teeth. When I told her he wasn’t, she was livid. She told me that she wouldn’t allow the council to be a party to blackmail. I told her that it was an agreement between the old man and me and that I was prepared to pay for his approval. She took a bit of persuading, but eventually she agreed to sign the permission.’
    ‘I feel the same way as she does,’ said Gerard. ‘You are my sister, and I don’t take kindly to seeing you being abused. As for calling you a whore, if he was a younger man, I would take off my collar and meet him after dark.’
    ‘Father! Wash your mouth out and say a hundred Hail Marys, or whatever the going rate is.’ I made light of it at the time, but I was taken aback by his smouldering anger. ‘You never have done anything like that, have you?’ I asked.
    He looked into his glass. ‘None of us is perfect, Primavera. A long time ago, but it was within my family . . . although that’s no excuse.’
    ‘Who did you fight with?’ I asked. ‘Your brother? Santiago?’
    ‘No, no. Santi and I could never come to blows; we’re too close. Primavera, I really don’t want to talk about it.’
    I took his hand, linking my fingers through his; maybe I expected him to flinch from the physical contact, but he didn’t. ‘You know, Gerard, I think the opposite’s true. I believe that you’d love to talk about it, that you’d love to have someone to share your pain, other than a confessor. Well, that’s what I’m here for.’
    He gave my hand a quick squeeze, then released it. ‘Not my brother,’ he whispered. ‘My father.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘He was a harsh man, a cruel man; he was heavy handed with Santi and me when we were kids. All the time we were growing up, there were never words of encouragement, only complaint. We lived with it, and got out of there as soon as we could. I went to the seminary, Santi joined the Spanish air force. One time, I was given a weekend’s leave, unexpectedly; I went home, and let myself into the house. As I did, I heard a scream, from not far away. I rushed through to the kitchen and found my mother, on the ground and bleeding from the mouth. He was standing over her, cursing her.’ As he spoke he clenched his hands into fists. ‘I yelled at him to stop, to leave her alone. He told me to go back to my novice’s cell, although not in those exact words. I pulled him away from her, and he punched me. And