AFTER EXAMINING THE TEXT for a few minutes, Greg was forced to agree with her, because it was impossible to decipher it without poring over it, studying it for several weeks. Jorge was an expert in that and must have known something about cryptographic language, since he had been able to solve that enigma in such a short time.
But now he was dead...
— It's useless — he admitted after a while, in a hoarse voice, giving up. — There's no point in interpreting a text that seems incoherent, no matter how you look at it.
The director shook her head.
— Unless we find a way to translate it — she added, self-assured. — If Jorge could do it, so can we!
— You, better than anyone, should know that time is the only thing I don't have left — he recalled, with some disgust, the work that still remained to be done.
— I know. — That's why I thought I should hire you for a certain period... — she paused briefly. — In the meantime, you will remain on the payroll, receiving the salary stipulated in the contract... — she looked at him with a pleading expression. — Please, you have to accept! Think that our lives depend on what is written in this document.
Greg, undecided, took a deep breath.
— Have you considered the possibility of telling all this to the Spanish police? It would be the most sensible thing to do!
— No... No way...! — she exclaimed, suddenly upset and letting her French tendencies get the better of her. — I can't tell the police now that I withheld information from them, at least not until we have something to offer them. I'm also not willing to allow Jorge's memory to be left in the gutter. I wouldn't like to see him crucified for no reason, now that he can't defend himself, so I need to know what he was really involved in, or if the cause of his death was just a coincidence... — her face fell. — I, more than anyone, want to know the truth — he concluded.
Greg didn't find it at all amusing to find himself involved in a murder, much less to be considered an accomplice of that woman who was no longer as cold as he had imagined and who could complicate his life because of some scruples that bordered on sentimentality. If Viana was guilty of some crime, it would be up to the police to carry out the investigation, not them, who would be putting his career and freedom at risk.
— If I accept your offer, you will have to promise me two things... — a furtive grimace passed over her face. — First, that you will take responsibility and cover me in case there are complications and we have problems with the law... Do you understand? — She nodded. — Second, that you will bear all the costs of this adventure... — he shrugged, giving a caustic smile. — My salary wouldn't be enough to cover them.
— You will have all the support you need. I will spare no expense... but you will have to start tonight. I want you to investigate this manuscript thoroughly and try to decipher it. I need to know what it says.
She stood up, signaling that the conversation was over. Gregory Evans then realized that she was still occupying the director's chair and got up, without wasting time, to give her back her workstation. It was something too intimate and personal, especially considering that in the office there were some framed family photographs and several unopened letters from various banking institutions.
— I'd better go," she said in a low voice. — I'll keep you informed. — Geovanna nodded silently, pursing her lips in a poorly disguised sign of distress, but at that moment she allowed herself to say softly:
— Thank you for everything, Greg... — and held out her hand. "Thank you for listening to me and for your discretion regarding the special friendship that united me and Jorge." And the detective reciprocated, shaking the hand she offered, convinced that her last words were a clear warning. Talking too much would mean being left out of everything, including losing her job at the auction house. Geovanna had plenty of money. She could afford the costs of an unfair dismissal in the blink of an eye.
— Could you call me a taxi? — Gregory Evans asked before leaving.
— No need. My driver is waiting for you in the parking lot. — Juanes was her personal driver. — Give him the address of your hotel, and he'll drop you off. It's the least I can do after wasting your time.
After saying goodbye, he headed for the door to leave. The woman needed to give in to her grief and mourn her loss in peace. And that's exactly what she did, as soon as she was alone with her memories.