Chapter 5 III

The first on the list was Olegario Zamburrián, AKA Oleg. Oleg was not especially tall, but very solid. He looked as if he had ancestry from the far north, and he probably did. Light hair colour and milky skin. He had gone into the Spanish Guardia Civil in 2001 and in 2004 he had spent 4 months in Mostar, with the international mission which was investigating war crimes and gathering evidence. Nowadays he was in Madrid, assigned to a so called UCO, which are investigative units taken care of investigation of things like organized crime and high profile crime.

We knew each other since we were kids. We used to play football together often and we had a bunch of common friends. Back then he lived on the other side of the railway tracks that sliced the city in two. Unlike other occasional players  we ended up meeting outside the field and our friendship prospered, unlike our football skills, fed by music, films and beer.


As it often so happens, we all took different ways that scattered the group, the teenage years converted those not so innocent kids into brainless teenagers. We kept in touch all that years, even when he was off to the academy. He used to come home regularly. By then I was also in University and we had different life routines, but once in a while we sat down and talked and drank beer.

Oleg had bought a small apartment close to the planetary in Madrid, which he shared with his bike. Biking was his passion. Since we where kids and we played bottlecap cycling and when we went on dirt roads emulating the tour, or very real sprints running away from junkies, dogs or older guys looking for cheap bicycles.

The plan that evening was to meet at an irish bar close to where he lived and have a go at it with the recruiting chat. That was at  least my plan. Then, all going well, we'd meet Jesús. Easy and for all family members.

 Madrid, Spain,  June 11th, 2009

Somewhere along the San Martín street, very close to the underground station of Planetario there was an Irish pub where we used to watch rugby. I never was a huge sport fan, but Oleg was. He loved Rugby passionately  since a teenager. He got into it through a neighbor who played... damn we were about 16 or 17 back then.

Oleg was waiting for me at the underground exit with a Steeve McQueen T-shirt and and a plastic bag hanging from his left hand. which extended towards me slightly together with a decisive right and said

-Some films I got you-
-Thanks mate, how are you doing?-
-As usual, work, life, all good-

We got moving towards the bar.
- I'd happily had gone pick you up, but I have the car on the shop-

-It would have not been faster, what's with it?- I said and winked.  
He shrugged - the turbo housing leaks oil-

At the bar, we sat so we could watch the match through the TV but a bit aside from the counter where the big hubhub was. To be fair, the hub hub was not that loud, and the TV was not a TV but a large screen and beamer. Our Guiness arrived, white on black accompanied by a large bowl with chips, peanuts and two generous portions of Spanish omelette. Oleg hat the almost supernatural skill to find places where tapas where glorious.

During one of the breaks, the conversation turned slightly on my favour. Oleg knew I was not all that happy at work and he knew I had been fishing around. When he asked I knew I had a queue.

-Well, you see...-- I started.
 
Forty minutes and another Guiness after, Oleg started with his questions. He had said nothing until then and had practically ignored the match.
 

--By when do you need an answer?--

I shrugged-- Soon, but not immediately --
 

-- All right, give me a week. Let's go see your mate --

we got up.

as we got up and left the night was falling like a blanket over the city.I slowly turned to look into the bar we were leaving the game was over. and Led Zeppelin was starting.

In the days of my youth
I was told what it was to be a man
Now I've reached the age
I've tried to do all those things the best I can

  <Previous  Next>