Chapter 14 Le Conquistador
Le Conquistador
“Did you kill someone?”
Mitch laughed dryly. “I’m flattered that was the first thing that occurred to you. Do I look like a killer?”
“I don’t think there’s a particular look for that.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but no – I’m not a criminal.”
“It’s not polite, making me wait like this. Are you going to tell me what you did or not?”
“Now I’m talking too much, and you’re the one asking too many questions,” Mitch retorted.
“Really? This is the game you want to play?”
“I had this friend in college who showed up to class one day with a black eye. Everyone thought he’d done something badass, got into a fight.
For a while he had this whole mysterious aura about him.
Turns out he’d been changing a tire on his motorcycle and smacked himself in the face with the wheel. ”
“So you went to prison over a flat tire?”
“I was hosting a reading group for students in the cellar of my bookshop.”
“And that’s a crime?”
“Selling banned books was. They could have let me off with a fine or administrative closure, but the prosecutor was looking for a big career boost and made an example out of me.”
“Which books were banned?” Anna asked, clearly sceptical.
“Any that deviated from the government’s narrative.
Books that challenged their vision of society or questioned the system.
Anyone could report a book they considered inappropriate; all you had to do was fill out a form to get it flagged and pulled off the shelves.
The one I sold you was on the list. I probably hesitated in handing it to you, I was reluctant to part with it.
I hope you meant it when you said you liked it. ”
“Are you serious?”
Mitch’s eyes answered for him. She ordered another vodka and downed it in one swallow, then thumped the glass down on the table like a pirate ready to surrender.
“I remember telling you that day that I needed a friendly travel companion. I didn’t know you were making me your accomplice.”
“Selling the book was illegal, not reading it.”
“Who even came up with such an absurd law?”
“The better question is why people went along with it. That’s what I couldn’t understand, and all I could do was sit around and think.
Tyrants don’t need monsters to create a tyrannical state: they just need a system.
Minor tasks that in themselves don’t seem objectionable, performed by regular people.
Each person carries out their task in order to get paid, or get a bonus or a promotion.
The cops that came for me were only doing their jobs – arresting a lawbreaker – nothing to keep them awake at night.
Same thing for the clerk, the jurors, the judge.
The bus driver who drove me to prison. That’s how authoritarian regimes cement their power: by parcelling out responsibility in such a way that no one realizes they’re a link in a chain of atrocities. ”
“What about the prosecutor?”
“He’d tell you he was only upholding the law. Sleeping just fine too, I imagine. For the big jobs, the regime relies on the most eager and cruellest of collaborators. He’s been promoted since. He’s Attorney General now.”
Anna was looking at him strangely. The silence stretched out between them, long enough to make Mitch uncomfortable.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all. Just thinking.”
“If being around an ex-con bothers you, I get it, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried. And as you said, there’s nothing criminal about you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I put myself in your shoes for a minute.”
“Ah. How was it?”
“How long were you in prison?”
“Five years.”
Anna made a shocked sound loud enough to turn a few nearby heads. “Five years for selling books? If it were me, I don’t think I could’ve resisted an opportunity to get him back.” She spoke much more quietly now.
“Really?” Mitch asked, shocked.
“Really.” With touching sincerity.
“What makes you think I didn’t? Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Mitch handed her a menu, but Anna pushed it aside without a glance.
“Come on. Let’s go somewhere else.”
The place she took him was a far cry from the sort of spot Mathilde would’ve chosen.
It was a neighbourhood eatery where the waiters knew all the regulars by name.
The soft evening light streamed through tall windows, catching the edges of old mirrors and vintage tiles, casting a warm, nostalgic glow that felt vaguely like what Mitch imagined of sixteenth-century Madrid.
Le Conquistador served fusion food in a lively atmosphere.
When Anna tried the asparagus d’Aranjuez, it caught her off guard in the best way.
This was worlds apart from the dull, traditional dishes at Les Trois Cousins. José had clearly reinvented himself.
“This is incredible,” said Mitch appreciatively, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “What’s my dish called?”
“Roast cochinillo,” Anna replied absently.
“Er… does roast cochinillo bring up bad memories, or…?”
“I used to be close with the chef.”
“And you’re not anymore?” Mitch asked, his hopes for the evening fading fast.
“It was another lifetime.”
“I see. You brought me to eat at your ex’s restaurant.”
“You don’t see. We were close, but not like that.”
“Whose choice was that? His or yours?”
“Both. It’s more complicated than it sounds.”
“If it’s so complicated, why are we here?”
“Can we change the subject?” Anna asked abruptly. “I know we barely know each other, but I really don’t want to lie to you.”
“You know quite a lot about me, actually, even though I haven’t managed to learn much about you. Try to think of me as a friend. Like Aomame and Fuka-Eri.”
“Do you remember every character in the books you recommend?”
“The ones that have stayed with me, yes.”
Anna gave a small nod. “José’s had some problems that I’m responsible for. He didn’t try to contact me after I left. I’ve been afraid to see him since I got back, but you’ve given me the courage I needed.”
Mitch let a few beats pass before saying anything.
“Did you ever try to reach out?”
“Like I said, it was another lifetime.”
“Do these ‘problems’ have anything to do with the long trip you won’t discuss?”
But Anna’s reaction had nothing to do with Mitch’s question. Her chin began to tremble slightly, her hand reaching clumsily for the glass in front of her. Her eyes were fixed on a broad-shouldered man who’d just entered the dining room and was heading straight toward them.
When he reached their table, José gave Mitch a curt nod – the kind that says I’ve decided not to acknowledge you – before addressing Anna.
“What are you doing here?”
“I know you’re angry with me. I’m so sorry. But I swear, I didn’t know a thing until this morning.”
“Why would I be angry with you?”
“Because of what happened to you.”
“What are you talking about, Anna? You have nothing to do with my life anymore.”
“Walter mentioned a serious incident back at the brasserie… I thought—”
José shook his head disbelievingly. “You think too much. And you should keep your thoughts to yourself,” he snapped, glancing darkly at Mitch.
“I punched the head chef at Les Trois Cousins in the face. He had it coming. Took a hit professionally, but I bounced back. I run the kitchen here now. And I’m proud of every dish that leaves it. ”
“It’s phenomenal,” Mitch piped up, hoping to ease the tension. They both ignored him.
José slid into the booth next to Anna and refilled her empty glass from the bottle of wine on the table. He drank it down in one swallow, then sighed heavily.
“Good lord. Why did you come back?”
“Because I had to. Why does it bother you so much?”
“You didn’t exactly leave quietly. The cops came to the brasserie, questioned everyone. And—”
He stopped, eyeing Mitch.
“And?” Anna prompted.
“They combed through the staff list and paid particular attention to any who had left their positions after the… incident. Two weeks later, a cop came back and questioned me about you. That’s how I found out you’d disappeared.
I didn’t say anything, of course, but I wasn’t the only one he grilled.
I know a lot of time has passed, but, given what happened, I don’t think they’re ever going to let this case go.
There, I’ve warned you. Although I know you’ll do exactly what you want, as always. Did you two enjoy your dinner?”
“Very much,” Mitch said quickly.
For once, José remained impassive, which meant he was pleased. He rose, kissed Anna’s hand, gave Mitch another noncommittal nod, and vanished into the kitchen.
Mitch tried to pay the bill but the server refused, telling them dinner was on the house.
Outside, the air had cooled. They walked side by side in the quiet night.
“So, what happened at Les Trois Cousins, that the police were—?”
Anna shot Mitch a look so sharp it stopped him mid-sentence. The kind of look only women seem to be capable of. She hailed a passing taxi, thanked Mitch for the unexpected interlude and climbed into the car.
“Think about what book I should read next,” she called out the window as the taxi pulled away. “I need a new companion!”
Mitch stuffed his hands into his pockets and set off for the station, solitude settling on him like winter rain, cold enough to freeze the soul.