Valentin was waiting, looking somewhat nervous until he saw Carlos approach.
“Thank God,” he said in Spanish. “I was worried something had happened to you.”
“I’m all in one piece, for now,” Carlos replied, keeping to Spanish, just in case anyone was close enough to be curious about their conversation. “Did you meet with Spargo?”
“Yes. What an ass. He runs smugglers in one tiny town and he thinks he’s king of the world.”
“That was my impression too,” Carlos agreed. “But he does seem to be the man to go to when it comes to smuggling. So what did you find out?”
“He wants to sell you arms. He claims he’s got good rifles bought from some German sellers, for one of their endless little skirmishes.”
“Mateo bought rifles from his contact,” Carlos mused.
Valentin went on, “Of course he had a story for why they ended up in Cornwall for a cheap price, but I let him know that I didn’t care.”
Valentin was a gentle soul who regretted it every time he had to kill a wasp. However, he was also one of those people who just happened to look like the typical newspaper depictions of a murderer. He’d lost an eye in a fight years ago, and a few fingers to mistimed cannonfire, and he was an expert when it came to scowling. Carlos had every confidence that Valentin convinced Spargo that he was a bloodthirsty bastard happy to buy guns off dead men if the price was right.
“Did you get a look at the guns?”
“He showed a sample,” Valentin said. “Assuming the others are in as good a condition, it’s a legitimate offer.”
“How much?”
“Why? Are you really going to buy them?”
“I can think of a good place to use them,” Carlos replied, thinking of the continually undersupplied revolutionaries back home.
“It’s up to you, captain, but I’d definitely insist on looking at every last one before committing. Spargo has the soul of a swindler.”
Carlos nodded. “Still, let’s continue to negotiate—or pretend to—so we can learn more about his operation. Did he mention the caves on the Pencliff Towers beach?”
“Not in specific, but he hinted that he’s got several spots that are well away from any Customs oversight. Oh, and by the way, I asked about opium.”
“What? I told you to be subtle.”
Valentin rolled his one good eye. “I was subtle. I told him that my captain was always willing to discuss the shipment of alcohol, tobacco, khat, or any drug that users get desperate for. Coming or going. Spargo did get interested when I mentioned that we can pick up tobacco from the Carolinas to bring to England.”
“And what did he say about selling drugs to us?”
“Said he’d ask around. I wouldn’t be surprised if some portion of that opium got resold to you, at a steep price.” Valentin paused. “For what it’s worth, I’d believe he killed your friend. He’s the type. He hinted that he’s eliminated what he called ‘bad business partners’ to keep the law off his back.”
Carlos grunted, thinking. He needed more evidence of Spargo’s guilt for killing Mateo before he could take revenge. But he agreed with Valentin. All the signs pointed that way.
“Good work,” he said at last, standing up. “Keep the Agustina out of sight for the next few days, but stay in the area. I’ll get word to you if I need help.”
“You’d better,” Valentin said. “Oh, one more thing.”
He handed Carlos a folded sheet of paper. “The crew has been asking around—carefully—about Mateo. Ramon ran into a drunkard who does occasional owling for Spargo. He didn’t know anything about Mateo in particular since he hasn’t worked for a few months. But he told Ramon about a place where Spargo takes bodies and other inconvenient items to hide before he gets rid of them completely. Not sure if the man was just spinning a story, but he drew a map for it.”
Carlos looked over the crude drawing of the shoreline rendered in charcoal. He put a finger where he knew Pencliff Towers to be, then traced along the line, around the great mass of the headland that stood between the house and the town of Treversey. On the other side of the headland, the creator had marked a location with a star.
“He said there’s a small sand beach there, and a sort of grotto with a very high ceiling, so high that a fishing boat or small sloop could shelter there in a storm. But he says that if you find the spot, there’s an entrance to the cave network below the headland, and it’s in one of those caves that Spargo keeps the nastier of his souvenirs.”
“I’ll go now and see what I can find,” Carlos said. “Better to do it in daylight.”
“Hope you find something. The sooner we finish this business, the sooner we can get the hell out of English waters. Good luck…and watch your back.”
After giving Valentin some final instructions, Carlos returned to the inn for his horse and rode back toward Pencliff Towers at a leisurely pace, keeping to the paths closest to the water. As he rode, he kept one eye out to sea to watch for ships, and in particular, the ship that unloaded the opium the other night.
