Sephy headed to the meeting after taking a taxi from Espinardo. She arrived sharp at four o'clock at the entrance to the shopping center, where two fashionably dressed young women recognized her immediately and approached to greet her. They introduced themselves as Mônica—the one who had spoken on the phone—and Arantxa. They complimented her good taste in designer black clothing before inviting her to have a drink on the terrace of Zig-Zag.
When they sat down, Sephy analyzed them in a matter of seconds. Mônica, as she had mentioned, was an avid piercer. She had six in one ear and four in the other: one on the lower lip, another on her tongue, another in her right nostril, another in her navel, and, according to her own testimony, one in her nipple.
Arantxa, on the other hand, was a more ordinary young woman, perhaps a bit grunge. Her shyness seemed posed, which is why she sensed a change in her personality as she got to know her better.
— Wow! I really like that jacket of yours. You remind me of Trinity from The Matrix. — Monica was literally fascinated by her new roommate's elegant style.
— You must spend a fortune to maintain that image.
Sephy wore leather pants from a famous Italian brand, along with a tight, black shirt and a polyester gabardine cape of the same color that reached her knees. The whiteness of her face, her eyelids painted a dark, heavy brown, and her platinum blonde hair—cut with a razor—made the German woman a nightmare creature, plucked from the sick mind of Lautréamont. She was disguised as sinister.
— Money is no problem for me — she told them, without any vanity. — My father is filthy rich. As long as I'm with you, you won't want for anything. You have my word.
Arantxa looked at her friend, dazed as she heard the woman who would be her fairy godmother from now on. Sephy, much more calculating than her friends, imagined they would try to take advantage of this stupid rich girl they had just met. And perhaps that would have been the case if someone else had been sitting across from them, but this was a young woman
with a long criminal career, someone for whom people were toys she could use and destroy at her whim.
Sephy had spent the last few years assassinating important men all over the world. She had a huge, abysmal psychological advantage over the other two.
Once the ice was broken with that overwhelming assertion of solvency, both Monica and Arantxa worked hard to please her. While they remained on the bar's terrace, they invited her to have several beers, so they moved on to a much less formal conversation, in which sex, music, and drugs were presented as favorite pastimes worth living for.
In just over an hour, Sephy learned that Mônica was the daughter of a lawyer with ties to the Eastern European mafias, and that her mother, a neurosurgeon, often indulged a young gigolo's whims in exchange for good times in bed. He added that he was a scoundrel whose sole purpose was to live lavishly thanks to the generosity of mature women. As for Arantxa, she was no different. Apparently, she was engaged to a young man whose family was one of the most powerful and respectable in Murcia. They didn't see each other on weekdays, as her suitor studied at the Catholic University of San Antonio (UCAM3), and when they did, it was to go to the movies or to Mass on Sundays.
Arantxa traded her original attire for elegant dresses that lent credibility to her role as a preppy girl, but, deep down, it was all a sham, a performance she put on to please both families until the end of her studies. Arantxa was far more cerebral than any of them, so she satisfied her needs—which were excessive, according to Mônica—by blackmailing one of the university professors with whom she had had sexual relations. In the apartment, she kept reliable evidence of their encounters, photographs, and underwear that she could mail to his wife at any time, such as some semen-soaked panties, which would serve to prove—in court, if necessary—that her story was true.
This extortion practice brought her about 300 euros a month, money she squandered as soon as it fell into her hands.
After these statements, Sephy felt more at ease. The brazenness with which they expressed themselves corroborated her suspicions. In reality, they were much more idiotic than she had initially thought.
Soon, they decided to show their new partner the apartment. They paid the bill at the counter and headed for the exit, passing by the shops in the shopping center, where they stopped in each window to browse the offers. Once on Juan Carlos I Avenue, Mônica reminded them that they would have to walk to the next one. The next bus stop. Sephy said she wasn't prepared for urban transportation, so she stood on the curb to flag down a passing taxi. She didn't mind paying for the ride.
Finally, they arrived at the apartment, located on Avenida de Espinardo. It had three bedrooms, with views of the La Opinión de Murcia newspaper and the Regional Language Library. After being shown her bedroom and the rest of the house, Sephy excused herself by saying she needed to pack her things in the closet before showering.
She handed Monica two hundred and forty euros in advance for the first month's rent, received the receipt and a copy of the keys, and locked herself in the room they had assigned her, ready to organize the search for Gregory Evans.
The only thing she needed to find him was a telephone directory and a little patience.