The Seville Communion by Arturo Pérez-Reverte Page A

friendly chat with him on the telephone."
    "You and your mayor," muttered Machuca, looking as if he was trying to place a vaguely familiar face. Anyone else might have thought it a sign of senility. But Gavira knew his chairman too well.
    "Yes," he said, appearing keen, alert to nuances - exactly the kind of attitude that had got him where he was. "He's agreed to reclassify the land and sell it to us immediately." He might well have allowed a note of triumph into his voice, but he didn't. This was an unwritten rule at the Cartujano Bank.
    "There'll be an outcry," said the old man.
    "He doesn't care. His term of office ends in a month and he knows he won't be re-elected." "What about the press?"
    "The press can be bought, Don Octavio. Or it can be fed more tasty morsels."
    Machuca nodded. In fact Canovas had just put away in the briefcase an explosive dossier obtained by Gavira about irregularities in welfare payments by the Junta de Andalucia. The plan was to make it public at the same time as the deal went through, to act as a smoke screen.
    "With no opposition from the city council," Gavira added, "and with the Heritage Department in our pocket, all we have to sort out is the ecclesiastical side of the matter." He paused, expecting some remark, but the old man said nothing. "As for the archbishop ..."
    He left the sentence hanging, giving Machuca the chance to respond. He needed some response - a hint or warning.
    "The archbishop wants his share," Machuca said at last. "Render unto God the things that arc God's, you know what I mean."
    "Of course," Gavira answered cautiously.
    The old banker now turned to him. "Well, give him what he wants and get it over with."
    He knew as well as Gavira that it wasn't as simple as that. The old bastard.
    "I agree, Don Octavio," said Gavira. "So there's nothing more to discuss."
    Machuca stirred his coffee and went back to regarding the PENABETICA sign. At the other table, unaware of the conversation, Peregil and the secretary were eyeing each other with hostility. Gavira chose his words and his tone carefully.
    "With respect, Don Octavio, I think we do have more to discuss. This is the biggest development coup since Expo '92: three thousand square metres bang in the middle of Santa Cruz. And linked to it, the purchase of Puerto Targa by the Saudis. In other words, one hundred and eighty to two hundred million dollars. But you'll allow me to make the best deal we can." He sipped his beer, letting the word "deal" resonate. "I don't want to pay ten for something we could get for five. And the archbishop's started to ask for a fortune."
    "We have to reward Monsignor Corvo somehow for washing his hands of the whole business." Machuca screwed up his eyes. "Or, as you'd put it, for facilitating the operation. It's not every day you can get an archbishop to agree to secularise a piece of land like this, evict the parish priest, and pull down the church ... Is it?" He'd raised one of his bony hands to list the points and now let it fall to the table wearily. "It's a delicate manoeuvre."
    "I'm aware of that. I've made plenty of personal sacrifices, if you'll permit me to say so."
    "That's why you've got where you are today. Now pay the archbishop the compensation he's hinted he wants and have done with that side of things. After all, the money you're working with belongs to me."
    "And the other shareholders, Don Octavio. That's my responsibility. If I've learned anything from you, it's to honour my commitments, but without paying too much."
    The banker shrugged.
    "Do what you like. It's your deal."
    And so it was, for better or for worse. It was a warning, but it took more than that to unnerve Pencho Gavira. "Everything's under control," he said.
    Old Machuca was as sharp as a razor. Gavira saw the predatory eyes go from the white-and-green PENABETICA sign to the facade of the Poniente Bank. The Santa Cruz and Puerto Targa operations were more than just profitable deals. Pulling them off meant for