"Este relato se presentó como primicia en el podcast 'Noche con Szymon y Clara' (http://www.ucc.santiperez.com/ucc/Szymon_y_Clara/Szymon_y_Clara.html)".
Dormía. A través de la oscuridad de su sueño se veía a lo lejos una luz creciente, en esa luz había un rostro. El rostro de una hermosa mujer que él no había visto nunca.
Era de noche. Se levantó una vez más bajo el sonido del viento y la lluvia golpeando contra los cristales. También sonaba un teléfono. Caminando bajo la luz que entraba por la ventana se aproximó a él. Con rostro serio lo descolgó. Uno de sus compañeros hablaba susurrante al otro lado de la línea. Al oír las palabras su rostro se endureció todavía más.
Al mismo tiempo en la oscuridad de una de las callejuelas de la ciudad un hombre perseguía a una mujer. No era una mujer cualquiera. No había sido elegida al azar. Su cabello era castaño como también lo eran sus ojos. Era alta, estilizada como una modelo o una actriz. Se veían en sus rasgos y en su aspecto esa mezcla de genes que había en ciertos lugares del Este Europeo, entre Polonia y Yugoslavia.
Mientras el hombre que había recibido la llamada se preparaba para ir al encuentro de su compañero. Este le había avisado de una desaparición más, otra mujer de entre 28 y 38 años en la zona norte de la ciudad.
El agente que le había llamado caminaba en ese instante por la parte más oscura y recóndita de aquel lugar. Se iluminaba con una linterna para no tropezar, pero incautamente no había sacado el arma reglamentará de la funda. Siguió caminando por un lugar que en cierto momento se le hizo familiar. Era la calle que llevaba al antiguo edificio de la comisaria. Un edificio ahora en desuso y prácticamente olvidado por todos salvo quizá por algún mendigo. Llego a la puerta y penetró en su interior.
Después... Silencio.
En otro punto de la ciudad aquel que había sido llamado tomaba con otro agente un coche y acudía al lugar.
A los diez minutos llegaron. Caminaron entre las sombras hasta llegar a la puerta de la vieja comisaria. Una puerta que observaron detenidamente. Entraron en el interior del edificio preparados para todo. Más nada sucedió. De golpe, tropezaron con algo que había en el suelo. Era el agente que había entrado, aquel que le había llamado por teléfono. Estaba malherido.
- Salva a la chica...- dijo, y susurro una casi inaudible dirección.
Salió corriendo a esa dirección. Mientras, el otro agente se quedaba atendiendo al herido y esperando a los refuerzos.
Llegó al piso. Tiró la puerta abajo al escuchar un grito en la oscuridad del lugar. Encendió la luz. Siguió caminando hasta llegar al salón. Sobre una repisa había un reloj, un reloj que se había quedado parado en esa hora. En el suelo estaba la mujer con una mueca de horror en su cara. La televisión estaba encendida, en ella unas terribles e hipnóticas imágenes aparecían...
No necesitaba saber como terminaría la investigación. Hacía años que estos casos eran cerrados y no se investigaban. Pero su mejor amigo había sido herido, quizá ya hubiese muerto o quizá no. Y él no lo olvidaría.
Se fijó en la mujer muerta. Se fijo en su rostro. Entonces, se dio cuenta a quién se parecía. Se parecía a su amada Slava. La mujer que poblaba sus sueños y pensamientos.
Avisó a los compañeros de homicidios tras revisar la casa. Sacó fotos con su móvil. Y, después, simplemente se puso a esperar. Sabía lo que tenía que hacer. Tenía que conocer el aspecto de las otras mujeres desaparecidas. Lo investigaría a escondidas, no podía dejar que los mandos lo descubriesen. Si algún compañero le preguntaba diría que buscaba documentación para un amigo que era escritor...
Su mente recordó con claridad el rostro que aparecía en sus sueños. Era el rostro de su amada, Slava, Slava Gavic. Y, recordó que ella también había desaparecido en una de las ciudades del Oeste del país...
Y esta chica que había encontrado muerta se parecía a ella...
EN INGLÉS:
"This story is presented as a first for the podcast 'Night with Szymon and Clara' (http://www.ucc.santiperez.com/ucc/Szymon_y_Clara/Szymon_y_Clara.html)".
He slept. Through the darkness of her sleep was a light in the distance growing, in that light had a face. The face of a beautiful woman he had never seen.
It was night. He rose again to the sound of wind and rain beating against the windows. Also a phone rang. Walking in the light coming through the window approached him. With a straight face he picked. One of his companions spoke whispering across the line. Hearing the words his face hardened even more.
At the same time in the dark alleys of the city a man chasing a woman. It was not just any woman. It had not been chosen at random. His hair was brown and so were his eyes. She was tall and slender as a model or an actress. They looked at their features and appearance that mixture of genes that had in some parts of Eastern Europe, Poland and Yugoslavia.
While the man who had received the call was preparing to go to meet his partner. This had warned of a disappearance over, another woman between 28 and 38 years in the north of the city.
The agent had called him at that moment I walked through the dark and hidden part of that place. It shone a flashlight to avoid tripping, but had not taken incautiously regulate the gun from the holster. He walked by a place that at one point he became familiar. It was the street that led to the former building commissioner. A building now disused and almost forgotten by everyone except perhaps for a beggar. He reached the door and stepped inside.
After ... Silence.
In another part of the city who had been called to another officer took a car and went to the place.
Ten minutes later they arrived. They walked in the shadows until he reached the door of the old police station. A door carefully observed. They entered the building ready for anything. More nothing happened. Suddenly, stumbled over something on the floor. It was the agent who had come, that he had telephoned. He was badly wounded.
- Save the Girl ... - he said, and an almost inaudible whisper direction.
He ran to that address. Meanwhile, another officer was attending to the wounded and waiting for reinforcements.
He reached the floor. He pulled the door down to hear a cry in the darkness of the place. He turned on the light. He walked up to the room. On a shelf was a clock, a clock that had been stopped at that time. On the floor was a woman with a look of horror on her face. The television was on, in it a terrible and hypnotic images appeared ...
He did not need to know how to end the investigation. For years these cases were closed and not investigated. But his best friend had been wounded, perhaps already dead or maybe not. And he would not forget.
He looked at the dead woman. Were fixed on his face. Then he realized who it seemed. He looked like his beloved Slava. The woman who peopled his dreams and thoughts.
Notice to fellow homicide after reviewing the house. He took pictures with his mobile. And then just waited. He knew what he had to do. She had to know the appearance of the other missing women. We investigate in secret, could not let it control discovery. If a classmate asked him would he sought documentation for a friend who was a writer ...
His mind clearly remembered the face that appeared in his dreams. It was the face of his beloved, Slava, Slava Gavic. And she remembered that she had also disappeared in one of the country's western cities...
And this girl who was found dead looked like her ...
EN INGLÉS:
"This story is presented as a first for the podcast 'Night with Szymon and Clara' (http://www.ucc.santiperez.com/ucc/Szymon_y_Clara/Szymon_y_Clara.html)".
He slept. Through the darkness of her sleep was a light in the distance growing, in that light had a face. The face of a beautiful woman he had never seen.
It was night. He rose again to the sound of wind and rain beating against the windows. Also a phone rang. Walking in the light coming through the window approached him. With a straight face he picked. One of his companions spoke whispering across the line. Hearing the words his face hardened even more.
At the same time in the dark alleys of the city a man chasing a woman. It was not just any woman. It had not been chosen at random. His hair was brown and so were his eyes. She was tall and slender as a model or an actress. They looked at their features and appearance that mixture of genes that had in some parts of Eastern Europe, Poland and Yugoslavia.
While the man who had received the call was preparing to go to meet his partner. This had warned of a disappearance over, another woman between 28 and 38 years in the north of the city.
The agent had called him at that moment I walked through the dark and hidden part of that place. It shone a flashlight to avoid tripping, but had not taken incautiously regulate the gun from the holster. He walked by a place that at one point he became familiar. It was the street that led to the former building commissioner. A building now disused and almost forgotten by everyone except perhaps for a beggar. He reached the door and stepped inside.
After ... Silence.
In another part of the city who had been called to another officer took a car and went to the place.
Ten minutes later they arrived. They walked in the shadows until he reached the door of the old police station. A door carefully observed. They entered the building ready for anything. More nothing happened. Suddenly, stumbled over something on the floor. It was the agent who had come, that he had telephoned. He was badly wounded.
- Save the Girl ... - he said, and an almost inaudible whisper direction.
He ran to that address. Meanwhile, another officer was attending to the wounded and waiting for reinforcements.
He reached the floor. He pulled the door down to hear a cry in the darkness of the place. He turned on the light. He walked up to the room. On a shelf was a clock, a clock that had been stopped at that time. On the floor was a woman with a look of horror on her face. The television was on, in it a terrible and hypnotic images appeared ...
He did not need to know how to end the investigation. For years these cases were closed and not investigated. But his best friend had been wounded, perhaps already dead or maybe not. And he would not forget.
He looked at the dead woman. Were fixed on his face. Then he realized who it seemed. He looked like his beloved Slava. The woman who peopled his dreams and thoughts.
Notice to fellow homicide after reviewing the house. He took pictures with his mobile. And then just waited. He knew what he had to do. She had to know the appearance of the other missing women. We investigate in secret, could not let it control discovery. If a classmate asked him would he sought documentation for a friend who was a writer ...
His mind clearly remembered the face that appeared in his dreams. It was the face of his beloved, Slava, Slava Gavic. And she remembered that she had also disappeared in one of the country's western cities...
And this girl who was found dead looked like her ...
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