After I’d returned with his replenished glass we sat in sociable silence for a while. Anderson had reached critical mass, the drink I’d bought about to make or break him, and there was no sense in antagonizing him by rushing matters. My back was to the rest of the bar so it was a choice between looking at Anderson or at the mural behind him, neither alternative particularly stimulating, and I was glad when he finally acknowledged my presence.
‘What do you want?’ he asked suddenly. ‘I’ve never seen you before.’
‘That’s right,’ I agreed, not bothering to introduce myself. ‘I want to know who ships coffee on the Arcadia.’
There was a certain lack of subtlety in the way I’d broached the subject but Anderson was so tanked up that finesse would have been wasted. He’d either give me the information I needed or tell me to bugger off again, in which case I’d have to buy him a few more drinks. In the event Anderson complied with my request, not raising any objections or displaying any inquisitiveness. All the six coffee exporters he mentioned were perfectly respectable, long-established businesses bar one.
‘Lima and company is new to me,’ I commented. ‘You’re lucky,’ Anderson mumbled. After his brief resurgence he was sinking fast.
‘You’ve had trouble with them?’
‘Not until this trip. We had a big nigger down at the ship yesterday morning, thinking he could throw his weight around because he was all tarted up in an expensive suit. The way he behaved you’d expect him to be shipping the crown jewels, not a few, lousy bags of coffee. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for me to move out of my cabin to make room for them.’
Anderson’s voice dropped to a mutter and the few words I caught were distinctly uncomplimentary. As I only knew one Negro who had a similar effect on me I thought it worthwhile to go for the jackpot.
‘Was his name Biddencourt by any chance?’ I asked. The only reply was a disinterested shrug so I tried a different tack.
‘Did you notice whether he had a ring on his right hand with a ruddy great green stone set in it?’
‘That’s right,’ Anderson answered slowly, flashing me a malevolent glance. ‘Is he a friend of yours?’
‘Not exactly,’ I hastened to explain, ‘but he’s the man I’m looking for. Do you know where I can find him?’
‘Under a bloody stone most likely.’
Although Biddencourt appeared to have made quite an impression there was nothing more Anderson could tell me. Knowing what I did it was easy to guess why Biddencourt had been so particular about the storage of the coffee — with God knew how many thousands of pounds worth of cocaine concealed in the coffee bags he’d want to ensure they were in safe hands. Anderson wasn’t to appreciate this, of course, and I’d no intention of enlightening him. After all, it was in my interests for the contraband to reach Liverpool safely.
*
It wasn’t until I’d finished my phone call to Ramon in Sao Paulo that I spotted Hawaii shirt. The full title of Gordinho’s front organization was Lima Filhos e Cia., SA, I’d checked in the directory, and this snippet of information was all I needed to round off the telegram to Liverpool Ramon was going to send for me. I could have dispatched it from Santos but I felt safer having the message sent from Sao Paulo. No one was likely to intercept it there and, whatever else happened, the cocaine wouldn’t get through to the distributors in England. As a start to my vendetta this wasn’t at all bad and I turned away from the telephone filled with a kind of awe. Not everyone was as intimately associated with a genius as I was.
This was when I saw Hawaii shirt, an occurrence which peeled away a couple layers of my complacency. He was sitting near the front of the bar, conscientiously ignoring me and engaged in animated conversation with the Ugly Sisters. It was well within the realms of possibility that he’d finished reading his newspaper, had purely by chance picked on the Oslo in preference to fifty other bars and, desirous of feminine company, had lost his heart to a pair of dikes who looked as though they made their living by wrestling in mud. For a full tenth of a second I wholeheartedly embraced this theory, then natural cynicism took over. Philis was being followed and, to put it mildly, Philis wasn’t at all pleased. This meant I’d almost certainly been recognised, a complication I could have done without.
Evidently Hawaii shirt hadn’t read his rule book properly because he stopped ignoring me when I made for the exit, moving from his table to block my way. I didn’t break stride and he was on the retreat as he spoke.
‘You’re Philis, aren’t you?’ he said.
I nodded in acknowledgement and screeched to a halt, taken aback not so much by what he’d said as by the way he’d said it. Hawaiian shirt had not only sounded friendly, he’d addressed me in perfect, unaccented English, the kind which usually indicates an expensive education at a good public school.
‘My name is Peter Collins,’ Collins continued.
‘Congratulations,’ I told him, allowing him to usher me to the table where the Ugly Sisters were waiting.
For some reason Collins was embarrassed, uncertain how to begin, and I had no intention of bailing him out. If he had a guilty conscience he deserved it.
‘I’m glad you’re not dead,’ he began awkwardly, ‘but…’
‘So am I,’ I interrupted quickly, ‘and there’s a point I’d like to make before you start on the apologies. The women who work around the docks pick up the most unlikely languages, including English.’
Marlene, the dominating figure in the lesbian couple, simpered at me across the table and made a rude gesture while Collins blushed. He was about as comfortable in the Santos zona as I would have been at a Buckingham Palace garden party and I took pity on him, tossing a banknote to Marlene.
‘Why don’t you two girls go somewhere and have fun together,’ I suggested.
‘You know, Philis,’ Marlene said before she left, affectionately twisting my ear, ‘every time I see you I realize why I hate men.’
I knew she didn’t mean this but, just the same, I was glad when she didn’t take my ear with her.
*
‘What happened to Reece?’ Collins asked.
‘I don’t know exactly but he’s dead.’
‘What a mess.’
Collins gave a grimace of disgust, a sentiment I wholeheartedly agreed with, then offered me a cigarette. I accepted it, and the light to follow, leaving Collins to bear the burden of the conversation.
‘I’ve a boss called Pawson,’ he informed me. ‘He told me to proffer his apologies for the clumsy way you were dragged into this business. Whether you accept the apology or not is up to you.’
‘Pawson expected me to be alive then?’
‘He wasn’t sure but he had a feeling you might be. That car accident at the bridge seemed too good to be true. Now I know for certain I’m authorized to offer you full-time employment with our department. Because of us you’ll have to leave Brazil so you’ll need a job to go to.’
Although I wasn’t particularly amused I laughed in Collins’s face, wondering whether there was any limit to this fellow Pawsons’s nerve.
‘Listen, friend,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you just two reasons why I don’t want anything to do with your precious chief — Lydia Pirelli and Otto Schmidt. If that isn’t enough I can give you a quick rundown of some of the minor changes in my own life since he started playing God.’
Collins sighed and passed a hand across his face. He looked tired but he was getting no sympathy from me.
‘I can appreciate your attitude,’ he conceded. ‘Just the same I think you ought to take time to consider the proposition. From where you’re sitting the department has made an unjustifiable intrusion into your private life but it was the most efficient way of breaking up Biddencourt’s operation, even if several people were hurt in the process. You flushed Biddencourt out into the open and we got as far as the Arcadia from the British end. Now there’s just the final mopping up to be done.’
‘Terrific
,’ I commented, rising to my feet. ‘Absolutely top hole. You get on with your mopping up but let me give you a word of advice. Stay well clear of me or I might be tempted to make an unjustifiable intrusion into your private life.’
When I left the Oslo Collins was still sitting at his table, looking more tired than ever.
*
Despite the warning I knew Collins had no intention of losing me. Apparently we’d reached the Arcadia from opposite directions, myself after a long, hard slog which had taken me to Porto Alegre, Rio Grande and a farmhouse outside Pelotas, Collins as a result of investigations in Britain. Unless he was an idiot, which seemed extremely unlikely, Collins must have realized that my interest in the ship could only indicate an equal interest in Biddencourt and, judging by the way he’d offered me a job, he thought I stood a good chance of unearthing him. This assumption was indubitably correct but I’d no desire to give him a helping hand — I preferred to work alone rather than with someone who was inspired by motives different from my own. Under other circumstances I might have grown to like Collins; if he tried to keep tabs on my movements, as he probably would, he would be nothing more than an embarrassment.
Exactly what I did to combat the new situation depended on how successful Serge had been. If he’d been on the ball and was already tailing Collins it would make things simpler for me, even though I’d have a small procession behind me. All I’d have to do in this case would be to lose Collins and leave it to Serge to trail him to base. On the other hand, if Serge hadn’t made contact, life would become much more complicated. Losing Collins would be no more of a problem but I hated to think of him mooching around Santos without my knowing what he was up to.
To my relief Serge was leaning against a wall twenty yards down the road when I exited from the Oslo, blending in nicely with the scenery. I gave him a big wink before I turned into the Zanzibar next door where, as I’d hoped, Rosa was sitting, chatting with three sailors. She scowled ferociously in reply to my smile but ditched her customers in double time and came over to join me at the bar. Tall, a good five foot ten with a Junoesque body to match, Rosa was the best-looking Negress I’d seen, bar none, and she had a brain as well. Considering what she had to offer she was wasted on the clientele.
‘This is an unexpected honour,’ she said, once I’d set up the drinks. ‘It’s not often you’re able to spare me a few minutes of your valuable time.’
‘You make me feel such a louse,’ I answered, fighting back the tears. ‘You know you’re the only woman in my life.’
Rosa laughed.
‘Along with two hundred others you mean. What is it this time?’
‘Nothing much. I just want you to play truant for half an hour or so.’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve turned into a short-time merchant,’ she said with a grin, her eyebrows raised. ‘I finish here at seven.’
‘I can’t wait that long,’ I told her, grabbing her thigh in mock passion. ‘You know how you affect me.’
‘I’m not surprised you feel like a louse,’ Rosa responded, not at all put out by my mick taking. ‘One of these days you’ll get a hell of a shock when I present you with the bill. Wait a minute and I’ll fix things with Max.’
In less than five minutes she was back, carrying a handbag the size of a small holdall. When I put an arm round her waist she raised her eyebrows again but didn’t comment until we were outside in the street.
‘Where to now, O master?’ she asked.
‘The nearest short-time hotel,’ I told her. ‘Where else?’
*
The hotels in the Santos dock area weren’t the kind which would find a place in Baedeker or the AA guide and copulation centres would be an apt description of their function. From the outside they were ugly, inside they were sordid, the rooms unvaryingly uniform in their layout — a double bed adorned with soiled linen, a couple of chairs for clothes, hand towels for post coital ablutions and a broken-down dressing table. Rosa protested every step of the way to the room I’d booked, reminding me we both had clean, comfortable apartments. When we arrived she finally rebelled, her nose wrinkled in disgust.
‘I don’t know what you’re up to, Philis,’ she said, on the point of leaving, ‘but I’m certainly not staying here.’
I hauled her back before she had a chance to move far and locked the door.
‘Don’t get yourself in a lather,’ I said equably. ‘Much as I fancy you this decor does have a definite passion-killing effect. I’m afraid you do have to stay here, though. Just for fifteen minutes or so.’
Rosa eyed me suspiciously.
‘What will you be doing? Taking dirty photographs?’
‘Not exactly,’ I told her. ‘I’ll be slipping through the back door. I’ve a shadow I want to lose.’
Immediately Rosa became serious, all traces of flippancy gone as she looked at me with concern.
‘Is it serious?’ she asked anxiously.
‘You could say that,’ I admitted, exaggerating for her benefit.
She came into my arms and bussed me enthusiastically.
‘Be careful, Philis.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I assured her, gently disengaging myself. ‘I always am.’
*
In the early days in Santos, when I’d been establishing myself, there had been several occasions I’d found it expedient to do a vanishing act and the hotel had been selected with some care. Collins, however, lived up to my expectations. As I left the garbage-filled back yard, emerging in a narrow side street, I glanced up towards the General Camera. There wasn’t much to see, just a pale blue DKW parked on the corner. Behind the wheel, staring down the side street, was a man in a brightly decorated Hawaii shirt. Collins had chosen to ignore my warning.
Chapter 10
‘Where to?’ the taxi driver asked.
‘Into town,’ I instructed him. ‘And drive slowly.’
Carlos flashed me a conspiratorial smile before he returned his eyes to the road. The DKW had started off behind us and I wanted to give Serge a chance to take a taxi of his own. The slow pace would also allow me time to plan my next move.
‘You’re not going to the big match?’
With this question Carlos suddenly became the recipient of my full attention.
‘The thought had occurred to me,’ I lied. ‘Who is it they’re playing?’
‘Corinthians.’ A note of contempt in his voice reproved my ignorance of such an important fact. ‘It should be a good game.’
The nod with which I acknowledged this remark was half-hearted in the extreme. Santos possessed the best football team in Brazil, one of the top half dozen club teams in the world, so most matches they played were good. With several of the national team, including the incomparable Pele, they had a lot going for them but this was one occasion when the football angle didn’t interest me overmuch. I was far more intrigued by the thought of thirty thousand spectators packed into the cramped municipal stadium.
‘What time is the kick-off?’ I asked.
‘Seven o’clock. There’s plenty of time to get there if you want to go.’
‘I do want to,’ I told Carlos. ‘Very much.’
*
It was ludicrously easy. Carlos dropped me bang outside one of the entrances and, while Collins tried to find a parking space for his car, I flashed my season ticket and trotted briskly up the concrete steps to the terraces. The kick-off was less than ten minutes away, the curtain raising reserve match already finished, and the ground was filled to capacity. At the head of the steps a burst of cheering greeted the loudspeaker announcement that Pele was definitely playing but, as my plans didn’t include watching the match, I didn’t add my voice to the general jubilation. Instead I determinedly began pushing my way through the crowd, aiming to be close to one of the other exits when Collins put in an appearance.
Fifteen yards into the crowd I stopped pushing, undergoing a rapid change of heart. Six rows down and ten yards in
front of me I’d caught a glimpse of a face I recognized, the unmistakable profile of Joao’s Indian friend, Pepe. For a fraction of a second the hairs at the back of my neck bristled as I smelled a trap, then I recalled that half an hour previously I myself hadn’t known I’d be coming to the stadium. This was one occasion I had to believe in coincidences and it was a coincidence I liked. With Pepe under surveillance Gordinho and Biddencourt were as good as in the bag.
All things considered I quite enjoyed the football, despite the unobtrusive eye I had to keep on Pepe. Ten minutes from the final whistle the scores were level and there were only two people in the stadium not totally absorbed in the play, the other being Collins who was a couple of rows behind me. It was high time I lost him.
Unhurriedly I made for the aisle, certain he’d follow me, and I waited for him at the head of the stairs. Collins stopped when he saw me, staying well out of range of a fist or foot.
‘You’re not waiting for the finish then,’ he grinned, sensing I was going to try to take him and confident he could deal with me.
‘I was getting nervous with you breathing down my neck,’ I explained. ‘Anyway, I’ve pressing business.’
The foul smelling toilets were half-way down the stairway, completely deserted at this crucial juncture in the game, and the footsteps behind me faltered uncertainly as I went in, Collins wondering what I was up to apart from the obvious. He suspected I wanted him to follow me in so that I could jump him but against this he had to balance the possibility of me slipping out through a window. He was still dithering outside the door when I emerged half a minute later, casually adjusting my dress.
The Fall Guy Page 15