“Well, there’s definitely one in there. The one that ran over the little boy. Speaking of which, when we catch these people, I want that car examined by Forensics. I’d bet my family jewels that they find the kid’s blood on it.”
“What do you think happened?” Fazio asked.
“Simple. The kid realized—I’m not sure how—that he was up against something horrible. So he tried to escape the minute he got off the boat. It was my fault he didn’t succeed on the first try. They took him to Spigonella, and there he must have discovered the staircase leading to the grotto. I’m sure that’s how he escaped. Somebody caught on and sounded the alarm. So Zarzis got in the car and looked for him until he found him.”
“But this Zarzis only arrived yesterday!” said Augello.
“As I understand it, Zarzis comes and goes. He’s always around when it’s time to sort out the merchandise and pick up the money. Like now. He runs all these operations for his boss.”
“I want to talk about the landings,” said Mimi.
“You have the floor,” said Montalbano.
The idea that he had Zarzis within reach gave him a sense of well-being.
“My lady friend told me it’s a real state of emergency. Our sea patrols have intercepted four overloaded, dilapidated craft headed towards Seccagrande, Capobianco, Manfia, and Fela, respectively. They only hope those boats manage to land before they sink; at this point, rerouting them or transferring the refugees to other vessels is out of the question. All our people can do is stay close behind them and be prepared to rescue the refugees if one or more of the boats should capsize.”
“I get it,” said a pensive Montalbano.
“You get what?” asked Mimi.
“These four landings have been set up as decoys. Seccagrande and Capobianco are to the west of the Vigata- Spigonella area, and Manfia and Fela are to the east. The sea off Vigata-Spigonella is therefore momentarily without surveillance, the coast too. Any fishing-boat aware of this momentary corridor could easily land on one of our beaches without anyone noticing.”
“So?”
“So, my dear Mimi, that means Zarzis is going to go pick up his merchandise out on the water, with the dinghy. I don’t remember if I mentioned that there’s a two-way radio inside the villa. With that, they can stay in continuous contact and meet at a fixed spot. Did your lieutenant—”
“She’s not mine.”
“Did she tell you what time they were expecting these boats to reach land?”
“Around midnight.”
“That means you and the rest of the team should be ready at Spigonella by ten at the latest. Here’s what we’ll do. There are two signal lights on the rocks at the entrance to the little harbor. These will come on right before the dinghy goes out, and will be turned on again when it returns. I think these lights, and the moving barrier, are operated by a third man, the guardian of the villa. You’re going to have to go easy at first—that is, you can’t neutralize the guardian until after, I repeat, after he’s turned on the beacons for the dinghy’s reentry. Then you’ll have very little time. Once Zarzis and his helper are back in the house, you’ll take them by surprise. But be careful: they’ll have children with them, and they’re capable of anything. Now coordinate your actions between yourselves. I’m going out. Good luck, and may you bear only sons.”
“Where are you going?” asked Augello.
“I’m going back home for a minute, then I’ll head out to Spigonella. But let me repeat: you’ll be working on your own, and so will I.”
He left the room. Passing Catarella, he asked:
“Cat, could you find out if Torretta has some wire cutters and a pair of thigh-high rubber boots?”
He did. Wire cutters and boots.
At home he put on a black turtleneck sweater, a pair of black corduroy pants, which he tucked into the boots, and a wool cap, also black, replete with pompom, which he put on his head. All he needed was a bent pipe in his mouth, and he would be a perfect replica of the generic sea dog one often sees in third-rate American movies. He went to the mirror to have a look at himself. All he could do was laugh.
“Avast, old salt!”
He got to the white-and-red house in Spigonella by ten, but instead of turning onto the road to the bungalow, he took the one he’d taken the first time with Fazio. For the final stretch, he turned the headlights off. The sky was overcast, and it was so dark he couldn’t see a blasted thing more than a step away. He got out of the car and looked around. To the right, a hundred or more yards away, the villa’s dark mass. Of his men, no sign at all. Nothing. Either they hadn’t arrived yet, or if they had, they’d blended in perfectly. Wire cutter in hand and pistol in his pocket, he walked along the edge of the cliff until he could make out the start of the staircase he’d spotted the first time he was there. It wasn’t as hard going down as the other staircase, either because this one was less steep, or because he felt reassured to know that his men were nearby.
Halfway down the steps, he heard a motor rumbling. He realized at once that it was the dinghy, about to head out to sea. The sound was amplified by the silence and the grotto, which acted as an echo chamber. He froze. The water in front of the little harbor suddenly turned red. From where he stood, Montalbano didn’t actually see the signal light come on, since it was blocked by the tall rock in front of it. But that red reflection couldn’t mean anything else. He distinctly saw the dinghy’s silhouette pass through the reflection, though he couldn’t tell how many people were on board. Then the red glow vanished and the sound of the motor faded, turning into a flylike buzz that went on a long time before it disappeared. Everything was exactly as he’d imagined it. Resuming his descent, he had to refrain from singing at the top of his lungs. So far, he’d made all the right moves.
His satisfaction, however, did not last long. Walking on the dry sand in those high boots immediately proved arduous. Ten more steps, in fact, would have broken his back; on the other hand, moving closer to the water’s edge, where the sand was wet and more compacted, would have been too dangerous, taking him too far out in the open. He sat down on the ground and tried to remove the first boot. It slid a little down his thigh, then stubbornly refused to budge past his knee. He stood up and tried again from an upright position. Worse yet. He started
