her head. She was forced to hold onto the desk, in order not to fall over. She could hear vaguely that Aron had come into the room.
He caught her as she fell.
CHAPTER 10
Several hours later they locked the door of the flat and went out to get some fresh air, and some breakfast. Blanca was asleep – or at least showed no sign of life when they left the building.
The early morning surprised them with the mildness of its air.
'If you want to sleep you can go the hotel. I need some air, but I can wander around on my own.'
'At this time in Barcelona? You'll attract all sorts, a solitary woman strolling the streets – everybody would draw the obvious conclusion.'
'I'm used to looking after myself. I've learned how to shake off importunate men with their cock in one hand and their wallet in the other. Although they don't show you the latter.'
Aron could not conceal his astonishment.
'I've never heard you talk like that before.'
'There's a lot you don't know about me. And how I choose my words.'
'If you want to be alone, think of me as an extra shadow. A sort of jacket you take with you over your arm when you're not sure if it's going to rain or not.'
* * *
They stuck to the main streets sloping down towards a square. There was very little traffic, the restaurants were empty. A single police car glided slowly past.
Louise was very tired. Aron walked by her side without speaking, as always hiding what he really thought or felt. Her mind was in chaos following their discovery that Henrik was HIV-positive. Now he was dead, inaccessible to the infection that had invaded him. But had it caused his death even so? Had he been unable to bear the burden he had suddenly found himself laden with?
'How come the post-mortem didn't reveal the state of Henrik's blood?' Aron suddenly exclaimed. 'Was it too soon? Had he been infected so recently that the antibodies hadn't had time to form? If so, how could he be sure that he really was infected?'
Aron broke down. It came suddenly, without warning. He was sobbing violently. Louise could not recall ever having seen him cry, apart from when he was drunk and maudlin and assuring her of his boundless love. As far as she was concerned, Aron's tears were always associated with the stench of strong drink or a hangover. But there was no trace of that now. His tears expressed only deep sorrow.
They were standing in a street in Barcelona. It was dawn, and Aron was sobbing. When he regained control of himself, they looked for a café where they could have breakfast, and then they returned to the flat.
As soon as they opened the door Aron disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, he had combed his hair and had clearly been rubbing his eyes.
'I apologise for my lack of dignity.'
'Why does such a lot of shit always come out of your mouth?'
Aron did not respond. He merely raised his hands defensively.
They continued searching through Henrik's computer with Aron as the determined pathfinder.
'Uncas,' she said. 'Do you remember him?'
'The Last of the Mohicans. James Fennimore Cooper. I was fascinated by it as a child. I dreamed of being the last of my tribe, the Aron tribe. Did girls really read that book?'
'Artur read it aloud to me. I don't think it ever occurred to him that it wasn't suitable for girls. He only used to read to me books that he wanted to listen to himself. I suppose I had read to me the occasional detective story when I was about seven or eight, but the book I remember best is the one about Uncas.'
'What's the incident you always remember most?'
'When one of the daughters of Colonel Monroe steps over the edge of the cliff and chooses death in preference to the bloodthirsty Indian. That was me, brave to the very end. I decided to devote my life to stepping off cliffs.'
Aron spent that day in Barcelona forcing his way into Henrik's life, with Louise as a spectator. He worked feverishly at breaking into various rooms Henrik had tried to lock. Some doors were dragged off their hinges, others had their locks picked, but all they found in the rooms were new questions, seldom any answers. How long had Henrik been ill? How long had he been infected? Who had infected him? Did he know who had infected him? He noted that he