Chapter Five
Willemstad, Curaçao, Dutch Antilles.
As Tom let himself into his small apartment, Carlos tidied up at the Iguana Café. It was the end of a busy night. The waitresses had finished cleaning the tables, and the chairs were stacked up and chained securely. All that remained was for Carlos to secure his cash and lock the premises. He started to empty the register. He’d put the day’s takings into a small cylindrical safe sunken into the concrete floor behind the bar of the café and bank the money in the morning, safe in the light of day.
His security guard-c*m-bouncer was across the street canoodling with one of the waitresses. It seemed as if he was getting lucky. Carlos mulled over the idea of replacing José for the hundredth time, but he never seemed to get round to addressing
