‘Why do you drive the trucks into the warehouses and out again without loading or unloading?’

It was the key question, and the one most in need of an answer.

‘Because all the stores are full,’ the driver said. ‘Although the Massachusetts store is normally empty. That’s where the aluminium arrives before it’s shipped out to storage somewhere else. There are new stores being built and they’re filled up as soon as they are ready.’

María nodded and made a note of Massachusetts. So there were more warehouses than the three she already knew about.

‘Why all the driving in and out all day long?’

‘That’s because there are international rules that say there has to be a flow of aluminium. So the load I bring in is booked into the store and then booked out again. The stores are all run under different names, so the metal is booked as going from one company to another so it doesn’t look like aluminium is piling up. But in reality, Meteorite owns all the stores.’

‘Do you have any idea how many stores there are altogether?’ María asked hopefully.

‘I don’t,’ he said, pausing for a moment’s thought as he counted on his fingers. ‘I’ve been to at least fifteen, and I’ve heard other drivers mention at least a couple more.’

María swallowed the saliva that had formed in her mouth as if she had been starving and could smell a delicious meal cooking somewhere close by. This was big news. This was the scoop she had waiting on for so long. She shifted in her seat, but tried to appear calm so as not to startle the driver.

‘And who owns all this aluminium? Do you have any idea who’s behind it?’

‘Different people. There are funds that trade in metals, some companies, sometimes the smelters themselves. You can see it all on the transport documentation that goes with each delivery.’

María could feel her heart jolt in disappointment. She had been sure that she had solved the mystery for Agla at the same time as coming up with a major news story of her own. She had been certain that there had to be a single entity stockpiling all this aluminium.

‘You’re sure?’ María asked, staring hard at the driver’s face as he nodded emphatically.

‘Absolutely sure,’ he said.

‘But why would all these different companies suddenly decide to start stockpiling the aluminium they produce, or buying it up so there’s a world shortage? It’s a weird coincidence.’

‘No. It’s not a coincidence,’ the driver said. ‘Meteorite pays them to store it.’