"So the long-debated count is finally here…" Risendo uttered as he read his invitation, a while later, in his hacienda.

"I know the viscount wants information on him, but consider well your actions, my son! He could be useful to you, both in your mission here and in your career. You should try to get under his skin," Inez advised as she was inspecting some new furniture they had recently acquired.

"I will certainly do my best to gain his confidence, Mother," the young man replied. "But, first, I must find out as much as possible about him."

With that, Gilberto left on horseback, heading for Los Angeles. Once there, he stopped in front of the alcalde's office, where he dismounted, handing the reins to the soldier on guard, and entered it without knocking. "What do you know about him?" he asked Ignacio as soon as he stepped inside the small room from where the white-haired man reigned over the pueblo.

De Soto, taken by surprise, almost jumped up as his former commander entered, then cursed under his breath as he registered who had entered, and leaned back in his chair. "About who?" he inquired.

"The count," Risendo said as he looked for the wine, who his friend had meanwhile taken the precaution of moving it to his private quarters.

"Not much. Except that he is richer than anyone I've ever met." The alcalde answered.

"And the source of such fortune?"

"How can I know? It's not like anyone around here knows him, is there? Well, except for his man, Don Rafael, but I can hardly interrogate him, can I?"

"Have you questioned the abbot? He arrived from Spain just a few months ago, did he not?" Gilberto pointed out as he sat in one of the chairs there.

"You expected me to question him?"

"I expected you to do your duty…"

"It hardly includes questioning the men of the cloth… Not to mention I am not the best person to do it… My man, Sergeant Mendoza, seems to be getting along well with him. I can order him to find out what he knows. The monk doesn't like me much, seeing how he only visited me once to ask me to pardon a farmer, Macias, and I refused him…"

"Macias? The one Zorro" Gilberto said the name with disdain, "freed?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were handling that bandit. You need to get rid of him!"

"Don't worry. I'll make sure to hang him soon enough!"

"Then do so already! I have plans for Victoria Escalante, and for this pueblo, and I don't want that damn outlaw to interfere anymore."

De Soto nodded a few times, trying to look sure of himself, though, in truth, doubting he could come up with a good enough trap to capture Zorro. Certainly not as soon as his former commander expected him to.

Gilberto glanced at him once more, as if seizing him up, then turned to leave. "I'll visit the abbot to find out what he knows about the count!" he said from the door, just before exiting.

ZZZ

"I am sorry, Señor, but the padre is away, collecting plants," an old man, who seemed partly blind and hardly able to walk, said when Risendo informed him who he was and that he needed to talk to the abbot.

"Then, please inform him that I have stopped by, and that there is something I wish to discuss with him. Something that cannot wait."

"Si, Señor! I will let him know…" the old man replied.

Disappointed, Risendo mounted and headed for his hacienda.

That evening, a message arrived for him mentioning that the abbot would be expecting his visit the following day, at nine in the morning.

ZZZ

It was half-past-nine when Gilberto arrived at the padre's house, and the man himself let him in.

"Buenos dias, Don Gilberto," the padre greeted him with a smile. "I understand there was something urgent you wanted to discuss with me."

"Yes. I was hoping for a little of your time, padre," the man uttered.

"I can offer you about twenty minutes before I have to return to my work," the abbot replied. "I have been waiting for you a while earlier."

"I apologize for my delay. But perhaps twenty minutes might be enough for what I have to discuss with you."

Nodding, the old man called for a servant, and a white-haired woman soon appeared. "Antonia, can you please bring us two glasses of red wine?" he asked.

The woman stared a little at Gilberto, then nodded. "Si, Padre," she said and headed for the kitchen.

The padre guided his guest to a room that served as both dinning and sitting room. Its furnishings – beautiful yet rather antiquated and not in the best state – indicated a man of some wealth who was, however, trying to avoid opulence.

"I will get right to the subject," Gilberto said as the servant returned with two small glasses filled with red wine, placing one in front of Gilberto and one in front of the padre.

"Thank you, Antonia!" the padre uttered, drinking the entire content of his glass in one gulp. Gilberto never suspected the padre's glass was, in fact, filled with grape juice instead of wine. "Before we start, Don Gilberto, would you be interested in seeing the results of my studies thus far? They are quite fascinating. Well, plants always are…"

"Perhaps another time, Padre."

"Of course… Please, tell me how I can be of service to you, Señor?" the fake monk asked.

Gilberto, realizing he had not touched his own wine glass, rose it to smell it, then drank a little of its content. "Port?" he asked.

"You know your wine, Señor Risendo!" the padre uttered, pretending to be impressed.

"Si… A bit strong for the morning, is it not?"

"I drink three of these by noon and never thought so…"

Gilberto watched the man carefully, as if trying to assess if he was telling him the truth, but soon found himself accepting that statement. His nose and cheeks did indicate a heavy drinker, after all. Trying to return to the subject at hand, he seemed to consider his words for a moment. "I was wondering…" he said as he reached a decision, "you arrived from Spain only about two months ago... So I was wondering if you might know anything about Don Sebastian de Murietta, the Count of Dragonera, who has bought the former De la Vega Hacienda."

"About Sebastian? Si…I knew him like the palm of my hand when he was a boy. But that was back in the late '70 or early 80s, if memory serves… I confess I was baffled to find out he was to become my new neighbor. What an amazing coincidence!"

Gilberto stared at the man with widened eyes, unable to believe his own luck. "So you know him?"

"Well… I knew him… His father and I were very good friends in our youth, before he left for Africa in search of diamond mines, and I put on this robe… Well, not this one precisely, I mean –"

"I understand what you mean, Padre," Gilberto seemed more than a little impatient.

"Yes, yes… About Sebastian… What can I say? He was born and grew up in Burgos. I remember he was a good boy. Obedient and very disciplined. Had these little obsessions… Like: avoiding dirtying his clothes by any means… Even the smallest stain would cause him to change his suit. Or punctulity. His parents used to complain that he drove them mad with his insistence to always be exactly on time. Never a minute early, nor a minute late…Precisely on time.

"Of course, he did change a lot after his parents died. It was a tragic coach accident to have ended their lives – may God have mercy on their souls. I was already in Seville at the time, but I remember several friends informing me that the young man had been devastated.

"Sebastian was about 16, I believe. For a couple of years after that tragedy, everyone who knew him complained that all he did was drink and spend his time in the company of dubious women. Then, there was a duel. An unpleasant affair over a señorita who turned out to be a señora. He was forced to fight and ended up killing the young woman's husband.

"I believe he much regretted the incident because, after that, he became very secluded. He stopped leaving the house, stopped receiving visits, even from the women he had pursued before… When he was, eventually, forced to renounce his seclusion, he was never again seen wearing a weapon. In fact, I heard he swore to never again touch one.

"About a year later – must have been some twelve or eleven years ago – I received a letter from a common friend, who recounted to me that Sebastian had sold everything and had left for the Orient.

"Most of the last decade he spent there. Some of those who brought me news of him said that they had met him at Topkapi, in Constantinople – or Stamboul, as the Ottomans call it. He became, as it turns out, a close friend of the current sultan, Mahmud the IInd, years before he rose to power. After the situation there deteriorated – you might remember the news about how the former two sultans lost their throne – I heard he headed for Naples, Sicily, and, eventually, North Africa. In the meantime, however, if Señor Rafael is to be believed, his wealth increased considerably."

"And how did he manage to increase his wealth so much?"

"Apparently, he learned how to spot a good opportunity and seize it. I understand he made a fortune from his investments. Some reliable information to which he had access thanks to his friendship with Mahmud, but also with several influential European noblemen, proved quite helpful to him. He managed to always bet on the right horse, so to say…"

"By acquiring state bonds, you mean?"

"That is my understanding... In fact, I hear that much of his fortune is currently invested in Spanish bonds."

"Spanish bonds? That means he trusts them to rise in value…"

"I am not an expert in earthly matters – not anymore, at least – but I do believe that is the purpose of investing in state bonds…" the abbot pointed out.

"So he is interested in King Ferdinand keeping the throne… and the empire…"

"No doubt he is!" the abbot replied as if that conclusion was more than obvious. "I understand he even gave the king money to make sure of that. A rather large sum, though Sebastian stands to gain far more than that in a few years..."

"Then what reason did he have to come here? Why not remain in Madrid?"

"Between us, Don Gilberto…" the abbot said, lowering his tone, as if careful not to be overheard by the servants, "I understand that he has information about rebels trying to ensure that California becomes independent. Since that would certainly harm his investments, he is set on making sure such a catastrophe doesn't happen. It's why he brought so many men with him… But, frankly," he confessed, "I am doubting his sources. Everyone knows that there are no rebels in this territory! Of course, on the other hand, precaution never hurt anyone…"

"No… No. It never did…" Gilberto muttered pensively.

"As I said, I haven't seen him in a very long while, so I can't be completely certain of his intentions… All I know is what I was able to piece together from my discussions with Señor Rafael and the news that had reached me while I was still in Spain…" the abbot said and inwardly smiled at noticing that Risendo was no longer listening to him.

"Yes… I… I appreciate your time, Padre… And, as promised, I will not keep you from your work any longer…" The young man said, standing up to leave.

The abbot nodded as he stood up to accompany him to the door. "Are you sure you don't want to have a look at my compendium?" he politely asked.

Gilberto went silent for a moment as if trying to understand what he was being asked and deciding on a reply. "Oh… No, thank you. Perhaps another time… I am in a bit of a hurry…" he said as he exited. "You have been most useful." He uttered as he was already mounting his horse, before muttering an unintelligible "Adios!" and guiding his stallion towards his hacienda.

The fake padre observed him leave from the door.

"That is him, Patron. The man responsible for your grandfather's death." The old servant woman said as she joined him.

"I suspected that much. Yet I still don't know the reason for all his actions against me and all those dear to me…" he replied as he turned around and headed for the stables, leaving on horseback.

ZZZ

"Felipe," Diego called as he returned to the cave and took off his monk clothes to revert to his usual look. "Did Tornado have some fresh air?"

The boy nodded and asked him how it went with Gilberto.

"Better than expected. I am rather certain he believed everything the abbot told him about the count. Though he would be foolish not to try to confirm his information before writing to the viscount about his findings."

"How?" Diego continued voicing out Felipe's next signs. "The count will take care of that. Risendo will surely try to also extract whatever information he can directly from the source."

Felipe smiled, then became pensive, and signed by pointing to his head, then to his mouth.

"I much doubt any of the information the abbot provided can be either confirmed or denied." The young man answered him. "And, even if the viscount does find reliable sources to deny it all, by the time the information reaches him, he'll no longer have any use for it." Diego said. "After all, I don't intend to be the Count of Dragonera for longer than absolutely necessary…"