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The old man smiled again, nodding.
‘That’s what I like. Direct and forceful.’ Victor Kray laughed without conviction. ‘You see, Max, if I told you the story about Dr Cain yesterday, it wasn’t to entertain you or to reminisce about old times. I told you so that you would all know what is happening and you’d be vigilant. The last few days have been tough for you; I’ve been in this lighthouse for twenty-five years with one sole objective: to keep an eye on that beast. That’s my only purpose in life. I’ll be honest too, Max. I’m not going to throw away twenty-five years because some kid decides to play detective. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you anything. Perhaps it would be best if you forgot everything I’ve said and kept away from those statues and my grandson.’
Max tried to protest, but the lighthouse keeper raised his hand and silenced him.
‘I’ve already told you more than you need to know,’ Victor Kray pronounced. ‘Don’t push it too far, Max. Forget Jacob Fleischmann and burn those films immediately. Today. That’s the best advice I can give you. And now, young man, get out of here.’
*
Victor Kray watched Max cycle away. He knew he had been harsh and unfair to the boy, but in his heart he believed it was the wisest thing to do. He also knew that the lad was intelligent and he couldn’t fool him. Max suspected that he was hiding something, but even so he hadn’t been able to grasp the magnitude of Victor’s secret. Events were gathering pace, and now, after a quarter of a century, as his life was nearing an end, Victor felt weaker and more alone than ever, his fear and anguish about the reappearance of Dr Cain threatening to overwhelm him.
Victor Kray tried to banish the bitter memory of a whole existence entwined with that sinister character, from the dirty suburbs of his childhood to his imprisonment in the lighthouse. The Prince of Mist had robbed him of his best friend and of the only woman he had ever loved; he’d stolen every minute of his long adult life, turning him into his shadow. Victor Kray had spent countless nights in the lighthouse trying to imagine what his life might have been like if fate had not decided that the powerful magician would cross his path. Now he knew that any memories he might cherish during the last years of his life would be only fictions from a biography he’d never lived.
His last remaining hope lay in Roland and in the promise he’d made himself that the boy would have a future far away from that nightmare. There was little time left and Victor’s strength was nothing like the force that had once sustained him. In barely two days’ time it would be exactly twenty-five years since the sinking of the Orpheus, and Victor Kray could sense that Cain was gathering power with every passing minute.
The old man went over to the window and gazed at the dark hulk of the Orpheus submerged beneath the blue waters of the bay. There were still a few hours of sunlight left before the darkness crept in and night fell – perhaps his last night of vigil in the lighthouse.
*
When Max walked into the house by the beach, Alicia’s note lay on the dining-room table, which meant that his sister had not yet returned and was still with Roland. The empty house only intensified the loneliness Max felt at that moment. The old man’s words echoed in his mind. Although he’d been hurt by the lighthouse keeper’s tone, Max was not angry with him. He realised the old man was trying to protect them all from something that scared even him. Yet, Max couldn’t help shuddering, for what could be worse than what they already knew?
He went up to his room and lay on the bed, thinking that the entire story was beyond him and that, although he kept staring at the pieces of the puzzle, he couldn’t find the right way to put them all together.
Perhaps he should follow Victor Kray’s advice and forget the whole thing, even if it was only for a few hours. He looked at his bedside table and saw the neglected book on Copernicus still lying there, like an antidote to all the mysteries that surrounded him. He opened the book at the point where he’d left off and tried to concentrate on the rational arguments regarding the orbit of the planets. Maybe Copernicus would have been able to help him unravel the mystery, but the astronomer had clearly chosen the wrong time to alight in this world. In an infinite universe, there were too many things that escaped human understanding.
13
HOURS LATER, WHEN MAX HAD EATEN SOME food and was only ten pages away from the end of his book, he heard the sound of bicycles entering the front garden. Then came the soft hush of Roland and Alicia’s voices, as they whispered for almost an hour on the porch. Around midnight, Max returned his book to the bedside table and turned off the lamp. Finally, he heard Roland’s bike setting off down the road and Alicia tiptoeing up the stairs. His sister’s footsteps paused for a moment outside his door, then continued along the short distance to her own bedroom. Max heard Alicia dropping her shoes on the wooden floor then a creak as she lay down on the bed. He recalled the image of Roland kissing her that morning on the beach and he smiled in the dark. For once, he was certain that his sister would take much longer getting to sleep than he would.
*
The following morning, Max decided to rise before the sun and by dawn he was already cycling towards the bakery. He wanted to get something delicious for breakfast and prevent Alicia from preparing her speciality – leftovers of bread, jam and milk. In the early hours, the town nestled in a calm that reminded him of Sunday mornings in the city. Only a few people out for a quiet walk broke the sleepy mood of the streets, in which even the houses, their shutters closed, seemed to be dozing.
In the distance, beyond the harbour wall, the few fishing boats that made up the local fleet were gliding out to sea and would not return until sunset. Max was greeted by the baker and his daughter, a shy young girl with rosy cheeks who stared at him as if he were some kind of prize. While they served him from a mouthwatering tray of sweet cinnamon buns just out of the oven, the baker asked after Irina. Clearly the news had spread: the local doctor obviously did more than take his patient’s temperature when he made home visits. As his father liked to say, in small towns news travelled at the speed of boredom.
Max managed to get back to the beach house with the breakfast buns still irresistibly warm. Without his watch he wasn’t sure what the time was, although he imagined it must be close to eight o’clock. The thought of having to wait for Alicia to wake up so he could have breakfast was not tempting, so he came up with a clever plan. With the excuse of giving her a hot breakfast, he prepared a tray with his booty from the bakery, milk and a couple of napkins and went up to Alicia’s bedroom. He rapped on the door with his knuckles until his sister’s sleepy voice gave an unintelligible mumble.
‘Room service,’ said Max. ‘Can I come in?’
He pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Alicia had buried her head under a pillow. Max looked around at the clothes hanging over chairs and her huge collection of random possessions. A girl’s room was always a bewildering place, thought Max, a complete mystery.
‘I’ll count to ten,’ he said, ‘then I’ll start eating.’
His sister’s face peeped out from under the pillow, scenting the sweet aroma in the air.
*
Roland was waiting for them by the edge of the beach, wearing just a pair of old trousers cut off at the knees. Next to him was a small boat that couldn’t have been more than three metres long and looked as if it had spent at least thirty years bleaching in the sun; the wood had acquired a greyish hue, visible under the few remaining smudges of blue paint. Despite all that, Roland seemed to be admiring his boat as if it were a luxury yacht. As Max and his sister walked down towards the shore, negotiating the stones on the beach, Max noticed that Roland had inscribed the vessel’s name on the prow with fresh paint, probably that very morning: Orpheus II.
‘Since when did you have a boat?’ Alicia asked, pointing at the ramshackle tub into which Roland had already loaded the diving gear and a couple of baskets with mystifying
contents.
‘Since three hours ago. One of the local fishermen was about to break her up for firewood, but I convinced him to give her to me in exchange for a favour.’
‘A favour?’ asked Max. ‘I think you’re the one who’s done him a favour.’
‘You’re welcome to remain onshore if you’d prefer to have first-class accommodation, sire,’ retorted Roland. ‘Come on, all aboard.’
