Exhausted and at the limit of his energy, he was about to knock on the door, but it swung open before his hand reached the bronze handle. The lighthouse keeper had come to meet him, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he said as he closed the door, and Roberto shook himself and stretched, grateful for the warmth inside the lighthouse. “So, have you got our little enterprise up and running?”
“We need to speak. There have been some developments.”
“I don’t like surprises,” replied Ibaibarriaga, fixing him with a stare. “What’s happened?”
“Could I have something to eat first? I’m famished.”
The lighthouse keeper grumbled, but he gestured to Roberto to follow him to the kitchen.
A short while later, Roberto was sitting down to a juicy steak accompanied by two fried eggs with impossibly yellow yolks. He wolfed down the food with Ibaibarriaga, Varatorta, and Pazos all looking on.
“So, what’s up?” the head lighthouse keeper finally asked. “Or did you just come for some free grub?”
Roberto gave him an inquisitive look and nodded at Varatorta and Pazos.
“You can speak freely,” said Ibaibarriaga. “They already know about our little agreement. I told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”
The youngest of the three crossed his arms defiantly, in what he no doubt thought was the right pose for a merciless hard guy. Varatorta at least had the decency to bow his head in embarrassment.
“There are only so many times you can go into that library without feeling like you’re a prisoner,” Varatorta muttered by way of explanation. “The money’s a way out for us.”
Roberto cursed inwardly. Negotiating with the three of them would be more complicated, but Ibaibarriaga seemed to be the leader.
“The Freires and the Docampos are going to kill each other,” he explained. “We have to stop them.”
“Is it the cocaine?”
Roberto shook his head. “There’s no cocaine,” he said, weighing his words. “There never was.”
“Like hell!” said Ibaibarriaga.
“It’s money. Cash.” Roberto put down his fork and looked straight at him. “Three million euros.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” exclaimed the lighthouse keeper. “Three million? I’m not surprised they want to kill each other.”
“There’s something else,” Roberto added. “Yesterday evening, somebody murdered one of the Docampos, not far from here.” He shuddered at the memory. “They decapitated him and nailed him to a tree.”
The lighthouse keepers were silent as they absorbed the information.
Finally, Ibaibarriaga gave a low whistle. “Christ, you don’t mess with the Freires,” he said.
“It wasn’t them.” Roberto shook his head. “There’s someone else.”
“Someone else? What do you mean? It’s not as if there are a lot of people on the island.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t explain everything right now,” Roberto interrupted. “We have to stop this before it’s too late. I need to use the radio.”
“The radio? What for?”
“To notify the authorities. I don’t know if you noticed, but the cell tower got taken out in the storm,” Roberto said. “I saw it happen. It was struck by lightning, and fire completely destroyed it.”
“So the radio’s the only way to communicate with the mainland.” Ibaibarriaga gave him his pensive half smile.
“And I have to do it as soon as possible, to stop something terrible from happening.”
“And why would we let you?”
