Chapter 7: Running the Gauntlet - excerpt

At the bottom of the Barrio Gotico was the dark and dusty Calle Ample. Meaning “wide street” in Catalan, it stretched from las Ramblas to Via Laietana and had been the last main road of the medieval walled city, where black-smiths, shoe-makers and tailors applied their trades on the ground floor of the stone buildings. The wall that once surrounded Barcelona had long since been torn down and replaced by the boulevard Passeig d’Isabel II at end of the nineteenth century. The buildings made of centuries old stone and mortar remained, however, and nowadays, convenience stores, fusion restaurants and kitsch bars lined each side of the street just slightly wider than an alley, making it a popular destination for those looking to party.

Four men met at one such watering hole called Hook. A small, dark bar with wood paneling, its decorative inspiration came, as its name implied, from the famous pirate Captain Hook of Peter Pan whose wooden statue guarded the front door. Inside peg legs hung from the ceiling, eye patches adorned the walls as bartenders clad in puffy white shirts served drinks to mostly tourists and expats in t-shirts and shorts. At the corner by the window near an old sea chest, the four men sat around a table and discussed that night’s plan. “Right,” the first man, George, said in the tone and intonation of an English gentleman. “I’m glad to see the three of you are here.”