It took a lot more work and time than I would have preferred. I swore and struggled until, finally, I was able to shift the concealed package from side to side, slowly sliding it closer and closer. Eventually, I could get enough of a grip on it to pull it out altogether. I found myself holding something wrapped in oilskins and secured with plastic twine, and felt a burst of savage triumph.

At last, perhaps, I could have some answers.

Two minutes later I was back on the ground. I knelt by the platform for shelter against the wind and used Rozalia’s knife to slice through the twine before unwrapping what proved to be a single large sheet of oilskin containing a few dozen pages ripped from a notebook, and covered in handwriting I instantly recognized as my own.

‘How did you know?’ Chloe exclaimed, staring at the pages in my hand. The wind pulled at my hair, and I felt a few small spits of rain land on my face. I had a feeling a storm was on its way.

I pressed the pages against my chest before they had a chance to blow away. ‘We should get out of here before it really starts pelting down,’ I said.

Rozalia and Chloe looked at each other, then both nodded. ‘Agreed.’

Thunder rolled across the landscape as we climbed back inside the jeep, and it soon began to rain heavily. There was more thunder, closer this time, and preceded by a flash.

‘I don’t want to drive all the way back south through this,’ said Rozalia, reaching hurriedly for the ignition as the rain came down. ‘There’s a fisherman’s hut just half a mile from here. We can wait the storm out there and take a look at whatever the hell it is you found.’

The ‘hut’ turned out to be slightly more substantial than the name suggested. It was big enough to hold a cot bed and a small wood-burning stove, beside which someone had left a pile of ready-chopped wood. There was even a small basin, a plastic canister full of water sitting next to it.

‘How did you know about this place?’ I asked Rozalia. She was busy brushing the rainwater out of her hair.

‘Came this way a couple of times with Nadia,’ she explained.

‘Romantic getaway?’ I asked.

She grinned. ‘Guilty as charged. It’s kind of cosy, if you don’t mind cobwebs.’ I watched as she pushed some of the chopped wood inside the stove, before setting it alight with the help of a box of firelighters sitting on a nearby shelf.

I had shoved the oilskin-wrapped papers inside my satchel along with the notebook as we drove for shelter. I lifted the bundle back out, carrying it over to a small wooden table in one corner. Lastly I took off my soaked jacket, hanging it on a nail.