Chapter Nineteen
Alvarez was as good as his word and drove Gorilla to a small harbour three miles down the coast. During the drive, neither man had spoken. Gorilla had sat and fumed, barely containing his anger. Alvarez had sweated and kept his eyes on the road. Gorilla wondered who the Mexican gambler was more frightened of; him or Caravaggio.
Eventually, Alvarez pulled up and Gorilla quickly got out, eager to move onto the next stage of his journey. “End of the jetty. You can't miss him. He is the ferryman. He's been told that you are coming. Good luck, Senor Grant,” Alvarez called from the car, before speeding off.
Gorilla made his way along the jetty, a series of small lights illuminating his way in the darkness until he reached the end. He stopped and stared down at the figure that
