The Other Son Read Free Page A

A life he had consciously chosen.
    His real name was Eduardo Guzman, although he had been using his alias for an eternity now. He left Spain and Marbella in his late teens together with his girlfriend, Angela. They set off to France and Biarritz for the surfing. They discovered that they liked it there and settled down. A new life, a new name, a new country.
    Now, so many years later, they had two boys and steady jobs. He was a marine biologist, Angela a legal assistant at a small law firm in the city. The only change in the makeup of the family was Hasani, a stocky Egyptian bodyguard who had knocked on their door six months earlier. Hasani had been sent by Eduardo’s father, Adalberto Guzman. Things had kicked off in Stockholm. Eduardo’s brother, Hector Guzman, had been run down by a car at a pedestrian crossing in Stockholm by a rival group. That was all Eduardo knew. And he didn’t want to know more. He had kept his distance from his father and brother’s affairs.
    —
    Eduardo saw his sons on the pier as he approached land, along with Hasani. A comical sight. The big Egyptian, always in a smart jacket, together with the two happy boys with their schoolbags over their shoulders.
    Eduardo raised his arm and waved. The boys waved back eagerly. Hasani joined in, but in a more reserved way, as if he understood that Eduardo’s wave wasn’t meant for him.
    Eduardo walked with his sons up through the city, away from the harbor, hand in hand through the streets that took them away from the tourist areas. This was what happened every day, the same routine. The children came to meet him after school, then they went to have something to eat and drink and later got some groceries and went home to prepare the evening meal. Hasani was always a few steps behind them.
    The boys suggested the Lord Nelson. They liked the aquarium with its live fish and lobsters. Eduardo said no, he wanted to sit outside, despite the time of year and fairly cool temperature. He often went to the same place, in a small square. There were plenty of people milling about and Eduardo and the boys sat down at one of the outer tables. Hasani sat down two tables away.
    When Eduardo beckoned the waiter over and was ordering the usual, two bottles of orange juice and a coffee, his cell phone rang in his trouser pocket.
    “
Sí?
”
    It was Angela, letting him know she was going to be late, that someone was on the way to appraise the house, and that Eduardo would have to let them in.
    They’d discussed moving to something larger. Eduardo wanted the appraisal. But he also wanted to sit outside the café for a while.
    “OK,” he said, and ended the call. He waved to get Hasani’s attention.
    “Take the boys home and the let the estate agent in; I’ll be along soon.”
    The boys protested but Eduardo didn’t listen. He wanted them to be with Hasani the whole time. Because even if there wasn’t any visible threat, he knew Hasani was always a valuable extra precaution.
    The boys left with Hasani, heading off across the square. Eduardo watched them go, smiling at their body language, which made it abundantly clear that they thought they were being treated unfairly. He smiled even more when they abruptly forgot the injustice and started chasing each other instead.
    The coffee and bottles of juice arrived on a tray. The waiter looked over at the boys.
    “Shall I take their drinks back in?”
    Eduardo shook his head.
    “I’ll take them home with me, if that’s OK?” he said, then gestured toward a newspaper that was rolled up under the waiter’s arm. “Could I borrow that for a bit?”
    Eduardo drank his coffee and skimmed the main headlines, failing to find anything remotely interesting, then turned to the sports pages and checked the football news.
    A bicycle was approaching. A multi-gear bike, its wheel making the characteristic ticking sound. Eduardo looked up from the paper. The cyclist stopped just across from him, next to the row of tables closest