The Seville Communion by Arturo Pérez-Reverte Page B

Gavira the difference between succeeding Machuca as chairman and standing defenceless before a board of directors who came from the "old money" of Seville and took a dim view of ambitious young lawyers on the make. Gavira felt five beats more at his wrist, under his gold Rolex.
    "What about the priest?" asked the old man, with a flicker of interest. "I hear the archbishop still isn't sure he'll co-operate."
    "Something like that." Gavira smiled reassuringly. "But we've taken steps to address the problem." He looked to the other table, at Peregil, and paused uncertainly. He felt he had to add something. "He's just a stubborn old man."
    It was a mistake, and he knew it at once. With visible enjoyment, Machuca struck.
    "That's unworthy of you," he said, looking straight into Gavira's eyes - a snake relishing its victim's terror. Gavira counted another ten beats at least. "I'm an old man too, Pencho. And you know better than anyone that I still have sharp teeth. It would be dangerous to forget that, wouldn't it?" He narrowed his eyes. "Just when you're so close to your goal."
    "I never forget it." It's difficult to swallow imperceptibly, but Gavira managed it twice. "As for that priest, there's no comparison between you and him."
    The banker shook his head reprovingly. "You're not in good form today, Pencho. You, resorting to flattery."
    "You don't know me, Don Octavio."
    "Don't be ridiculous. I know you very well, and that's why you've got where you are. And why you're about to go even further."
    "I'm always frank with you. Even when you don't like it."
    "I always appreciate your frankness, which is as calculated as everything else. Like your ambition and your patience . . ." The banker stared into his cup, as if he might find.there clues to Gavira's personality. "Maybe you're right. Maybe all that priest and I have in common is our age. I don't know, because I haven't met him. Now I'm going to give you some good advice, Pencho . . . You appreciate my advice, don't you?"
    "You know I do, Don Octavio."
    "Good, because this is some of my best. Always beware of an old man who clings to an idea. It's so rare to reach old age with any ideas one is passionate about. Only a lucky few won't have them snatched away." He stopped, as if he'd remembered something. "Anyway, haven't things become more complicated? A priest from Rome or something?"
    Pencho Gavira's sigh sounded sincere. Maybe it was. "You keep up on developments, Don Octavio."
    Machuca exchanged glances with his secretary, who sat motionless at the other table, saying and seeing nothing until further orders. Peregil, on the other hand, sitting opposite the secretary, fidgeted anxiously and glanced nervously at Gavira. The proximity of Don Octavio, his conversation with Gavira, and the imperturbable presence of Canovas all intimidated him.
    "I don't know why that should surprise you. This is my town, Pencho," said Machuca.
    Gavira took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. The chairman didn't smoke, and Gavira was the only person allowed to do so in his presence. "Don't worry," Gavira said as he took his first puff. "Eveything's under control." He exhaled, calmer now. "No loose ends."
    "I'm not worried." The banker shook his head, absently watching the passers-by. "As I said, it's your deal, Pencho. I'll be retiring in October. However this turns out, it won't make any difference to my life. But it might to yours."
    With that the old man seemed to consider the matter closed. He drank the rest of his coffee, then turned back towards Gavira.
    "By the way, have you heard from Macarena?" he asked.
    It was a low blow. He'd obviously been saving it till the end. Gavira glanced at the newspaper kiosk and anger again knotted his stomach. It was also a rather unfortunate coincidence: just when he'd ordered Peregil to keep a discreet eye on his wife's adventures, the journalists from Q&S had caught her gallivanting with a bullfighter and got it all on film. Damn his luck and damn