Chapter 37
Downstairs at the Alfonso XIII, Becker wandered
tiredly over to the bar. A dwarf-like bartender
lay a napkin in front of
him. “Qué bebe Usted? What are you
drinking?”
“Nothing,
thanks,” Becker replied. “I need to know if there are any clubs in town for punk rockers?”
The bartender eyed him strangely. “Clubs? For punks?” “Yeah. Is
there anyplace in town
where they all hangout?”
“No lo sé,
señor. I don’t now. But
certainly not here!” He smiled. “How about a drink?” Becker
felt like shaking the
guy. Nothing was going quite
the way he’d planned. “¿Quiere Vd. algo?” The bartender repeated. “¿Fino? ¿Jerez?”
Faint strains of classical
music were being piped in overhead. Brandenburg Concertos, Becker thought. Number four. He and Susan had seen the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields play the Brandenburgs at the university last year. He suddenly
wished she were with him now. The breeze from
an
overhead air-conditioning vent reminded Becker what
it was like outside.
He pictured himself walking the sweaty,
drugged-out streets
of Triana looking for some punk in a British flag T-shirt. He thought of Susan again. “Zumo de arándano,” he heard himself
say. “Cranberry juice.”
The bartender
looked baffled. “Solo?”
Cranberry juice was a popular drink in Spain, but drinking
it alone was unheard of.
“Sí.” Becker said. “Solo.”
“¿Echo un poco de Smirnoff?” The bartender pressed. “A splash of vodka?” “No, gracias.”
“¿Gratis?” he
coaxed. “On the house?”
Through
the pounding in his head, Becker pictured
the filthy streets of Triana,
the stifling heat,
and the long night ahead
of him. What the hell. He nodded. “Sí,
échame un poco de vodka.”
The bartender seemed much relieved
and hustled off to make
the drink.
Becker glanced around the
ornate bar and wondered if he was dreaming. Anything would make
more sense than the truth. I’m a university teacher, he thought, on a secret
mission.
The bartender
returned with a flourish
and presented Becker’s beverage. “A su gusto, señor.
Cranberry with
a splash of vodka.”
Becker thanked
him. He took a sip and gagged.
That’s a splash?
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