“Where are we?”
“I already told you: in my secret lair. My refuge. My laboratory, you might call it.”
“No.” Roberto shook his head. His throat was in agony. “I mean ... what is this place?”
“Ah, this!” Varatorta smiled, satisfied, and swept his hair back over his bald spot. “It’s an old sea shaft, similar to the Devil’s Hole that you fell into last night. Thousands of years ago, in this very place, the water came crashing in and ate away at the cliff above us. At some point, a rockfall blocked the entrance. Now, there’s only one way in. Incredible, right?”
“How ... how did I get here?”
“Oh, I thought that was obvious!” The lighthouse keeper opened his eyes wide in surprise. “I brought you.”
“How is that even possible?” Roberto closed his eyes. “I don’t remember ... I don’t know ...”
“My dear friend, when you arrived at that woman’s house,” Varatorta said, pointing his plump thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of Elvira Couto’s head, “I was outside, waiting in the bushes.”
“You were waiting for me?” A shiver ran down his spine.
“I didn’t know it was you.” He shrugged. “I saw someone walking along Melide Beach and guessed they must be on their way to Elvira’s place, so I decided to wait. I was curious to know who was out on a night like that.”
Roberto struggled on the table and was rewarded with a shooting pain in his side.
“I was about to come and introduce myself to you there,” the lighthouse keeper continued, “when all those people showed up, and I decided it was better to wait.”
Roberto recalled how he had felt as if he were being watched when he arrived at Elvira Couto’s hovel. Perhaps the Docampo party had unwittingly saved his life ... before trying to kill him themselves.
“I was very intrigued, if I’m honest.” Varatorta stroked his goatee. “I didn’t know what was happening or what scores the Docampos might have wanted to settle with you, so I followed them.”
“How come nobody saw you?”
“Everyone was concentrating on you,” the lighthouse keeper explained. “It was a piece of cake. By the way, I was very impressed by your little trick with the fishing line. You should have seen the surprise on their faces when the bullet went off!”
“I need some water,” croaked Roberto, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. “Please.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m forgetting my manners! I’ll bring you some right away.”
Varatorta went over to the shelf where his victims’ heads sat in jars, and came back with a flask. As he gently poured liquid into Roberto’s mouth, Roberto savored the taste of fresh water.
“You must have swallowed a lot of seawater,” Varatorta said. “Your throat will be raw.”
“Tell me how you got me out of the sea.” Roberto shuddered as he remembered the moment when the waves had dashed him against the cliffs. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, that was a stroke of luck.” Varatorta sat down again, placing the flask at his feet. “When the wave washed you up against the rocks, I lost sight of you for a while. But then I saw you floating, unconscious, with your head above water. Your parka saved your life.”
“My parka?”
“Yes.” Varatorta pointed to Roberto’s disheveled coat, hanging on a hook and dripping slowly onto the floor. “When you fell into the sea, it got wrapped around your neck, and because there was lots of air trapped in the filling, the parka acted like a life jacket. If it hadn’t been for that, you’d have been pulled down, and I’d never have found you.”
Roberto licked his cracked lips. He’d been cursing his leaky parka ever since he arrived on the island, but in the end, it was only thanks to it that he was still alive. He was sure that was something the coat’s designers couldn’t have even begun to imagine.
“The current washed you to a slightly calmer spot,” Varatorta explained. “As soon as the Docampos left, I pulled you out of the water and, well”—he opened his arms wide—“here we are.”
“I suppose I should thank you.”
“That would be polite”—Varatorta nodded—“but such formalities are hardly necessary between friends. It doesn’t matter, seriously.”
“Why am I tied up?” He struggled on the table. “Let me go.”
“No, no, no.” The lighthouse keeper shook his head vehemently. “You’ve been through a lot. You have several fractured ribs, you have a cut on your head, and one of your knees is in a bad way. I think it’s better if you stay there, for now. And it will make everything much easier.”
