“I’ll give you the bags with the money—and the keys to your speedboat—in exchange for that detonator you have in your hands.” He pointed to it. “You can leave with your money, and we can all part on good terms.”
“Let me get this straight,” Osvaldo said. “I get the money, and they get their kids, right?”
“Right.”
“What about the lighthouse keeper?” He pointed to the lighthouse. “What does he get?”
“Ibaibarriaga gets to live, which isn’t bad in the circumstances,” Roberto said. “Everyone in the triangle comes away with what’s most precious to them right now. I think it’s a good deal.”
Osvaldo was silent for a few moments, weighing the offer. Roberto kept up his smile, though a tiny bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. It all rested on the gunman’s response now.
“There’s just one thing I don’t get,” Osvaldo said at last. “Everyone gets something ... apart from you. What does Roberto Lobeira get out of this?”
“I get a wonderful story to tell,” he said nonchalantly. “Don’t forget I’m a writer.”
Osvaldo gave him a long, calculating look. Eventually, the rarest of occurrences: He let out a hearty, resounding laugh.
“All right! Deal. But no real names in that book of yours.”
“You have my word,” replied Roberto gravely, holding out a hand to shake.
“How do we do this?” Ramón said. “We don’t trust this guy as far as we can throw him.”
“You’ll just have to trust me,” Roberto said. “First, the detonator.”
Osvaldo searched his face, still trying to ascertain the trap, but finally, very slowly, held out the battery to Roberto, who immediately disconnected the wires.
“Now it’s my turn.” Roberto turned to the lighthouse and shouted, “Antía, the money!”
Antía and Diego appeared through the door, each carrying one of the duffel bags. When they brought them over, Roberto undid the zippers, showing the wads of money inside.
“I’m sure you’d like to count it, but I don’t think you have time. It’s all there.”
“I believe you.” Osvaldo pulled out a wad of bills and in the bright morning light ran his thumb over the edges, satisfied. He tossed it back into the bag and gestured to Python, who came over and grabbed the bags.
“Let the lovebirds go,” he ordered.
Helena and Tristán went running over to the islanders, to be enveloped in hugs and cries of relief.
“Tell me, Lobeira.” Osvaldo scrutinized him again with those cold eyes. “What is there to stop me from just killing all of you anyway?”
“The fact that you don’t know if you’d manage it—you’d still be trapped between two armed opponents. Besides, you’re a practical man. You got what you came for, and the authorities will be here any minute. Everyone’s capable of appreciating what things are worth, right?”
The Colombian looked pensive for a moment and at last gave another of his rare smiles. “You’re a clever man, Lobeira. I hope we meet again.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope we don’t.” He handed him the speedboat and SUV keys. “Have a good trip.”
“What about Barreiros, the skipper? Was he in on this?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. The keys were in the ignition; I just thought it prudent to have something up my sleeve.”
Osvaldo stared at him and finally blinked. “Okay, we’re out!” He whistled and pointed to the SUV. “Move, men!”
The men trotted over to the vehicle and climbed in, gunning the engine as they raced away. Osvaldo caught Roberto’s eye as they passed, and then the SUV was disappearing around the corner.
Roberto let out a massive sigh and doubled over. He felt dizzy. “I can’t believe it,” he gasped. “It worked.”
“You did it!” Antía cried. “It’s all over!”
