The Angst-Ridden Executive by Manuel Vázquez Montalbán

instance, or something like that. OK, there are always fights between rival pimps—like when somebody’s screwing somebody else’s girl—but killing a client would be like killing the goose that lays the golden egg.’
    ‘What about the knickers in his pocket?’
    ‘There’s something odd about them.’
    ‘Do you say that because it’s your personal impression, or because you’ve got proof?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I mean, did you say what you said because that’s your opinion, or have you been making inquiries among your colleagues?’
    ‘I asked. From what they told me, nobody knows anything.’
    ‘What about outside Barcelona?’
    ‘Nothing happens outside Barcelona. A bit of small-time sleaze in some of the industrial towns, but there’s nothing going on there that we don’t find out about, sooner or later.’
    ‘He’s amazing, Carvalho. He knows everything there is to know. They call him the “Golden Hammer”, because he’s got a cock that strikes like a hammer and shines like gold.’
    Once again Bromide’s friend shrugged off the compliments, but couldn’t contain a self-satisfied smile.
    ‘Some people might think that I spend my time just screwing and pimping. I’ve got a trade now though, so I’ve started running down the business with the girls, and nowadays I only do a bit here and there.’
    ‘He started at fairs, doing handstands on bar stools, on the edge of a coin, that sort of thing. Shame he wouldn’t show you his muscles. And he used to have all the girls chasing him. So in the end he decided to have a slice of the action himself. How many girls are you running nowadays, Hammer?’
    ‘Six or seven. You don’t want to overdo it, because you find that you can’t keep up with them, and there’s a lot of competition about. Also, these days women aren’t as easy to handle as they were in your day, Bromide. In those days, give them a wallop and they’d be good as gold. These days, you have to work on their psychology. With one of them you have to be nice to her kid. Another might need bringing into line. Another might have a mother in a wheelchair, and you have to find her a masseuse. And another might be epileptic. The girls don’t tend to get knocked about so much these days, but sometimes people try worse things. You have to guarantee them a full-time protection service.’
    ‘You’ll end up running a union, Hammer.’
    Carvalho could stomach just about anything, but he drew the line at pimps. For him they were like dog-ticks—loathsome little insects grown fat from feeding on someone else’s blood. The athlete had the face of an evil-looking lamb, and the innocence of a micro electronic computer.
    ‘Let’s get back to the corpse. Why are the police claiming that it was a sex revenge killing?’
    ‘I’m sure they’ve got their reasons. It doesn’t add up, though.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter if it makes sense or not. One day they’ll take one of you in and wring a confession out of him.’
    ‘You’d have to be very stupid to own up to something like that. And anyway, people don’t just own up of their own accord. When they pick up a pickpocket, they stick him with every unsolved case in the book. But they know very well that pimps don’t kill clients. They might give a customer a fright, or a good kick in the crutch, or blackmail him, but even this happens only rarely, because you get a lot more out of happy customers than you do out of blackmail. What does happen, though, is that sometimes you get a young pimp who’s too clever for his own good, and wants to make a fast buck. He has to be brought into line, and we take care of that.’
    ‘What about the knickers, then?’
    ‘All for show. Believe me.’
    ‘You mean it’s not your style?’
    ‘I can only think of one case. A dirty old shitter. The sort who likes to shit on girls, or gets them to shit on him. If it’s OK by the girl, he can shit away to his heart’s content. But if she doesn’t want