With that, he left the kitchen, making for Pazos’s bedroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Roberto groaned and collapsed forward on the table, trembling.
“What the hell was that all about?” Antía said, a horrified expression on her face. “Was that part of your plan too?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not at all. Just trying to buy some time.”
“So you just go along with that psychopath? He’s killed two more people, and he’s talking about killing me, like it was the most normal thing in the world!”
“We don’t have much choice,” replied Roberto. “We’re locked in. This place is like a fortress. There’s a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound lighthouse keeper who’s obsessed with getting rich, and a serial killer who seems convinced that time’s against him in trying to complete his work ...”
“So what on earth are we going to do?” Roberto’s reply made her blood run cold.
“Honestly, I don’t have a clue. Varatorta’s being here changes everything. Unless ...”
“Unless what?”
But Roberto didn’t answer. He was staring at the wall, thoughts seething. Just then, Ibaibarriaga’s heavy footsteps were heard approaching along the hall. The lighthouse keeper burst into the kitchen.
“They’re nearly here,” he said, and then frowned. “Where’s Varatorta?”
“He’s gone to see Borja,” said Roberto, recovering his composure. “Álvaro, we need to talk. It’s Varatorta. He’s been lying to us.”
47
“It’s Not What It Looks Like”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said,” Roberto said patiently. “Varatorta’s got a secret.”
“We’ve all got secrets,” Ibaibarriaga snapped. “What’s so important about this one right now?”
“It could decide whether we live or die.”
“Go on.”
“He lied about why he took so long to come back. I realized as soon as he said there was no one else on the beach.”
“Bullshit!” Ibaibarriaga said, but a few worried creases appeared on his forehead. “Varatorta’s like family. He’d never lie to me.”
“Think about it,” Roberto insisted. “Do you really think those Colombians could have made it to the island in a speedboat on their own, in the middle of that storm? Ons is hardly easy to get to, especially in those conditions. They’d have needed a local skipper, someone who knows these waters.”
Ibaibarriaga’s brow grew even more furrowed. “That’s true,” he muttered, more to himself than to Roberto. “But ... why would he lie to me?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s planning something. If you ask me, I think he’s done a deal with the Colombians. They’re his chance to get his hands on the money. Your money. As soon as they get here, he’ll go and throw open the door to them, and we’ll all be screwed. They’ll kill us all. Those people don’t leave witnesses.”
“Surely not ...” Ibaibarriaga shook his head in disbelief. “He’s one of our own. I’ve been living with him under this roof for three years. I know him ...”
“How well do you really know him? Do you know anything about him, apart from day-to-day stuff at the lighthouse? The things he likes doing, his past? His ambitions in life? You don’t know what goes on inside his head. Really, you know next to nothing about Varatorta, apart from what he wants to show you ...”
The shadow of doubt, a horrible, gripping doubt, was spreading in Ibaibarriaga’s heart. His expression went from one of doubt to one of confusion and from there, in quick succession, to one of anger.
“For all I know,” Roberto said in a low voice, “he could be at the front door right now, about to let them in. Given the deal I suspect he’s done with them ... Why do you think it took him so long to come back? Varatorta isn’t what he seems. You have to act, Álvaro, or your money’s going to be gone.”
A dense silence descended, accentuated, if anything, by the crackling of a log in the fireplace. Then Ibaibarriaga slammed a fist down on the table, making the crockery jump.
“There’s only one way to get to the bottom of this,” he growled. “And if it turns out to be another one of your games, I’ll sling the two of you straight out the door, and you can fill in the Colombians.”
In a fury, he jumped up and ran out of the kitchen to find Varatorta.
