In ‘the Dead,’ volume three of the Vengeance of Memory Trilogy, Comandante Guzmán is forced to confront his own mortality. Not only that, he must also deal with the fact that what he has believed in for all these years – the belief system that oriented his world and his action sin it - is rapidly falling apart and being replaced by its opposite. The closed and claustrophobic society forged after the Civil War by General Franco has unravelled since his death, leaving those once at the centre of power faced with a series of problems, none of which are easily reconciled.

We all reach a point in our lives when we sense a growing disconnect between our beliefs about the world which are rendered less relevant or less important than those of younger generations. Those things we have taken for granted and revealed to be much less permanent than we imagined, be they social manners, norms of conduct, fashion or gender roles or sexual mores. Things change though not necessarily in ways that make complete sense to us. Ageing is an existential challenge which requires negotiation and accommodation. If change is enforced rather than voluntary, we are likely to experience extreme discomfort.

If coming to terms with such a situation is an established part of our lifespan, how much more difficult is that for someone like Guzmán, whose life has been predicated upon enforcing the rules of a hypocritical and spiteful regime? His reactions to that inform his actions as the plot of ‘The Dead’ unfold.
Firstly, Guzmán wants out, though in a fairly ordinary way: he wants his promised pay off in order to spend the autumn of his life in comfort, away from his violent existence as a secret policeman. He assumes it’s a job like any other: that he can leave when he wants and on his terms.

Though Guzmán is uncomfortable about the nature of change, he is not grieving for the loss of Franco. Unlike some, he was well aware of Franco’s opportunistic streak that enabled him not only to steal the country from its people, but also from his fellow generals and politicians, all of whom he outmanoeuvred in order to secure his place as leader of the country. In turn, those like Guzmán were able to utilise their entrepreneurial skills to secure a place in the pecking order. But now, that pecking order no longer exists and Guzmán is not a politician who can change his affiliations to order: he is a ruthless killer with a long, damning history of violence and cruelty. He has lived the good life, though that lifestyle has been funded by his bloody deeds. Leopards don’t change their spots, as one of his key allies, General Ortiz remarks early on in the book.

On his return to Madrid, after being involved in unspecified counter intelligence operations, Guzmán realises the extent and pace of change extends far beyond his expectations. In two weeks, the election is widely expected to return a socialist government for the first time in fifty years. The Communist Party has been legalised, an idea that shocks both Guzmán and his Boss Brigadier General Gutiérrez. Not only that, but a secretive cabal of old Francoist Generals, ‘Los Centinelas’ is now pulling the strings in Madrid, exercising influence by bribery, blackmail and coercion and should violence be necessary, they utilise their connections with organised crime to subcontract the kind of work Guzmán and his associates once performed.

As a result of so much change, Madrid is almost a foreign city to Guzmán. Ever the pragmatist, Guzmán would be happy to be paid off – but finds the Brigada Especial’s funds have been frozen pending an investigation into its lethal work during the Franco era. Even so, all is not lost: Guzmán still has his code, something he worked on for years and which he will happily sell to the highest bidder. No matter that the bidder turns out to be from the Centinelas. Once Guzmán has the money, he is quite willing to leave Madrid for good –as the Centinela’s lawyer advises.
But there is one piece of business to be taken care of first: the destruction of the documents of the regime that were so assiduously collected and stored by units like Guzmán’s. They name names, both of the victims and of the killers. And mainly they name Guzmán and Gutiérrez. The Job seems simple: General Ortiz lends Guzmán a squad of young Civil Guards to assist him in stealing the relevant documents from various archives scattered around the city. Using a secret catalogue prepared by Franco’s office years ago, the job should be easy. All Guzmán needs to do is keep his head down and tolerate the insults of the Centinelas’s subordinates, mostly career criminals like Eduardo Ricci, the owner of ‘El Topless,’ a city centre nightclub that not only has Go Go dancers but is also a hot bed of vice and prostitution.

And there lies the problem. Guzmán knows only one way to deal with people who insult or threaten him. As long as he can keep his mercurial temper in check, he may yet leave the city on his terms. But when a bombing campaign threatens to derail the elections, drawing press attention to the presence in the city of people like Guzmán, things start to get strained. There is a limit beyond which Guzmán sees only violence as a credible response.

And now, he’s reached that limit. He must choose self respect or leave and live a quiet life.