The Einstaat Brief (Cobra Book 3) by Blake Banner

Author:Blake Banner [Banner, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-20T16:00:00+00:00

Ten

I had a light dinner of steak and salad, then had my car brought up and drove west and north out of town on the CG-2 toward el Tarter, and then bore steadily south, back toward the Spanish border.

The villages in Andorra are small and produce very small amounts of light. The mountains are big, abundant and heavily forested. They rise steeply from the few roads there are, and the result is, if you drive at night, even when there is a moon, you drive in extreme darkness, with vast black walls towering over you, blocking out the translucent sky.

The road wound on through Canillo and came eventually to the town of Andorra itself. I passed it on my right and plunged again into the profound blackness of the mountains until I came to the sprawling village of Sant Julia de Loria, with its tangle of twisting, winding roads.

I managed to negotiate them, among the nocturnal summer crowds that spilled from the sidewalks, and finally eased out onto the Carretera de la Rabassa, which zigzagged its way up through dense, black forest and then wound down into a broad valley of what seemed to be farmland. More endlessly winding roads brought me at last to the tiny village of Juberri, and just beyond it, set back from the road among pine trees, the hotel Coma Bella.

I pulled into the parking lot and climbed out of the car. The place was very still and quiet. Light flooded the stairs up to the main entrance, but made everything else seem even blacker by contrast. I crossed the lot and climbed the stairs to the porch. The door was open and I stepped inside.

There was a small, unoccupied reception desk on the right. Beyond it there was a space with a couch, a black leather armchair, a coffee table and a TV. Beyond that was a staircase that rose to the upper floors. There was no elevator. The TV was on and there was a man slouched in the armchair watching it, with his face resting on his left hand. I said, “Hi.”

He looked up at me, but didn’t say anything. I said, “I’m Julian Ferrer. I have a room booked…”

He used the same hand he was resting his face on to point at the reception desk. I looked and saw a key lying there, attached to a big wooden disk. The disk had the number 207 scorched into it. I showed it to the guy. He nodded and pointed at the ceiling. “Segona planta, habitació set.”

I didn’t need to speak Spanish, or Catalan, to know he was telling me second floor, room seven. I crossed between him and the TV, making him shift his head, and climbed the stairs.

On the second floor there was a passage with three doors to either side and one at the end. The one at the end was number seven. I pulled on a pair of latex gloves, slipped the key in the lock and stood to one side, motionless, listening hard.

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