by Dan Smith
‘And if we can’t do it?’
‘We’ll give it an hour. That’s all.’
‘He won’t let you put that stuff on his boat,’ I said. ‘I already told you Santiago doesn’t do that kind of job.’
‘Santiago won’t have any choice. If he doesn’t like my cargo, he can sit on your boat and wait for you to come back. Or I can shoot him in the head and—’
‘You think they won’t be armed?’ I replied, looking at Daniella. She was staring at Leonardo’s hand, her eyes fixed on the pistol as if she were planning on taking it right out of his fingers and using it to gun him down.
I hoped she would do nothing.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Leonardo said. ‘I can deal with that.’
‘You sure?’ I wondered how many people were on the boat. Costa had said Sister Beckett didn’t take security with her, but there was that other woman in the photograph to consider. It was hard to believe she would come to a place like this and not have someone with her to keep her safe. She would know she was a target. I was also certain that Matt would be armed. He was my counterpart; did for Santiago what I did for the old man. If Leonardo ended up shooting the nun, it would save me the trouble – I could tell Costa it was me and he’d pay up without me ever having to fire a shot – but I didn’t want anything to happen to Santiago and Matteus. They were good men and they deserved better.
‘You just talk to Santiago,’ Leonardo said. ‘Everything’s normal until we get that boat out of the sand. After that, leave everything to me. And don’t forget to be careful ... anything happens, your girlfriend is the first one to get hurt.’
Daniella and I exchanged a glance before I nodded to Leonardo.
‘Good.’ He forced a smile as we pulled closer to the Estrella.
‘You forget how deep your boat is?’ I called to Santiago, keeping us away from the sandbank. Where we were, the river was deep, the water dark, but just a few metres away, the bank was protruding. The nose of Santiago’s boat was wedged firmly in the dry sand. ‘Or maybe you forgot how fast it is. Speed’s not always the answer, you know.’
Santiago shook his head and puffed his cheeks. He was still shirtless, displaying a chest that was black and grey with coarse hair, and a belly that swelled around the top of his brown shorts. On his head he wore a gringo-style cowboy hat, beaten with age and use, the felt faded, the rim dark with sweat. He tilted his head to one side and smiled at me. ‘So it seems.’
‘I wish the old man was here to see this,’ I said, scanning the boat, finding myself hoping not to catch a glance of Sister Beckett.
‘Raul?’ Santiago said, the smile falling from his lips. ‘Where is he?’
‘Piratinga. Some kind of fever. You haven’t heard anything?’
Santiago shook his head, coming close to the side of his boat and leaning against the railing. I heard the squeak as it moved in its fixings, betraying the Estrella’s failing health. ‘Some kind of fever, you say?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You know there’s dengue in Piratinga?’
‘So everyone keeps telling me.’
He watched me, reading the worry in my eyes, then took off his hat and looked inside it before replacing it on his head. ‘Raul will be fine; that old man is made of iron. He’s probably at Ernesto’s right now, drinking beer and smoking Carltons.’
‘I hope so.’
‘He won’t like what you’ve done to his boat, though. That fire back there singed a few holes in your canopy, eh?’
‘We can’t all sit inside,’ I said. ‘So where you headed?’
Santiago let his gaze wander to the far bank, maybe twenty metres away. There was a tree that would have been on dry land a few weeks ago but was now reaching from the surface of the river. Leafless, it rose from the water like the bony arm of Corpo Seco, with narrow branches at the top spread like skeletal fingers. From the crook of one of those branches an acauã surveyed the land beyond the trees. It preened its feathers, then opened its beak and let out a cry that people said was like human laughter.
It sounded to me more like it was in pain.
‘Rain’s coming again,’ Santiago said. Many of the boatmen believed the acauã’s call signified the approach of wet weather.
‘So, where are you headed?’ I asked again.
‘Nowhere,’ Santiago shrugged, still watching the bird. ‘Not now, anyway.’
‘Maybe we can help?’
Santiago looked over at Daniella and Leonardo standing close together. ‘Do I know him?’ He knew that Daniella was my girlfriend, and he’d be wondering why she was so close to Leonardo.
‘This is Leo,’ I said. ‘He’s a friend. Heading to Mina dos Santos.’
Santiago nodded as if he wasn’t quite sure whether he believed me.
‘Who’ve you got on board?’ I asked.
He looked back at the windows, but no faces were visible. The people inside must have moved away from the glass so we couldn’t see them. ‘Tourists.’
‘Fishermen?’
He half smiled. ‘Kind of.’
I nodded and throttled the engine a touch because the river was taking us away from the Estrella once more. ‘So, you want some help?’
‘You think you can help?’ Matt asked as he came onto the deck beside Santiago. His hair was short, his shirt open to the waist to show bony ribs, and there was a scar that ran around his neck from one ear to the other. Matt was not as violent and ruthless as he looked, but he was capable of the brutality needed for his job and his mind worked in a particular way. Santiago might believe Leonardo was a friend, but Matt was not so easily convinced. He watched our passenger with a keenness that matched that of the acauã sitting on Corpo Seco’s bony hand. He would be looking for something he couldn’t immediately see. Something that Leonardo’s closeness to Daniella might be hiding.
‘Maybe we can tow you.’ Leonardo forced a smile again and put his arm around Daniella, drawing her closer as if giving her a hug.
‘Who are you?’ Matt asked, coming forward so he was hidden behind the gunwale from the waist down. His hand dropped out of sight behind the peeling sides of the Estrella.
‘I’m a friend,’ he said, and I could hear the anger welling inside him.
‘Not my friend.’
Leonardo’s smile slipped. ‘Daniella’s friend.’
‘And you think you can tow us?’ Matt asked, his hand still out of sight, just as Leonardo’s was. The two men locked in a stare like animals daring each other to attack. Matt sensed something in Leonardo just as I had sensed it the first time I saw him.
‘We can give it a try,’ I said, hoping to distract them both. ‘Daniella, why don’t you throw that rope over? I’ll keep the Deus steady.’ I pointed to a coil of thick rope that was slumped at the stern. It would be heavy for her to lift, but she’d manage.
Without waiting for a reply, I took the boat forward, bringing our stern in line with that of the Estrella, sweat making my hands slick on the wheel. As I did it, I looked at the rifle, still propped in the bow, then at Leonardo and Daniella standing behind me. I wondered if I would be able to reach the weapon before Leonardo could react, but I knew he would notice the moment I left the controls. I couldn’t take the risk.
Leonardo held onto Daniella for a moment before letting her go and following her to the coil of rope. He kept his hand behind his back and stayed with her so he was out of Matt’s line of sight.
I throttled the engine backwards and forwards, keeping us as stationary as possible, while Daniella struggled with the rope. Eventually she took a step back and, with both hands, threw it out towards the Estrella. On the other boat, Santiago leaned forward, arms outstretched.
The rope remained coiled, making it no more than halfway between the boats before it dropped into the river and began to sink.
‘Shit.’ Daniella started to pull it back in. It was heavier now, the water having soaked into it, and I could see the spray as she coiled it back onto the deck and made r
eady to throw it again.
The second attempt fell short just as the first had done, but the distance between the boats wasn’t great and I knew Daniella was strong. It wasn’t until she bent down to pick up the coil for the third time that she turned back to me and I saw the look in her eyes.
She was up to something.
I shook my head. No. It wasn’t worth it. If something set Matt and Leonardo off, there would be violence. It would be quick and cruel and she was between them. If anything caused them to trade bullets across the water, Daniella would be caught in the middle.
‘Let me try,’ I said, thinking I could stop her from doing whatever she was planning. ‘You take the wheel.’
‘No,’ Leonardo said a little too quickly, making Matt narrow his eyes. Leonardo caught the change in Matt’s expression and tried to soften his demeanour. ‘She’s doing fine,’ he said.
‘No she’s not,’ Matt called back. ‘Why don’t you do it?’
‘Me?’ Leonardo looked surprised. ‘No, I—’ But even before he could finish his sentence, Daniella had thrown the rope again, this time only managing to get it over the gunwale and drop it into the water.
‘What kind of man are you?’ Matt said to Leonardo. ‘You let a woman do the work? What’s the matter with you? Pick up the rope.’
I could see the indecision in Leonardo’s eyes as Matt provoked a reaction from him. He didn’t know whether to insult the man, help with the rope or do what came most naturally to him – use his pistol.
‘I’ll do it,’ I said as Daniella began drawing in the rope again. ‘You take the wheel.’
‘Just throw the damn rope,’ Matt called to Leonardo. ‘You want to be here all day?’
And so Leonardo finally moved. As soon as he did, though, Matt tensed and took a tiny step back from the gunwale.
Leonardo dipped down, out of sight from the other boat, and Matt waited, every muscle in his body preparing to react if Leonardo stood up, weapon raised.
I could see that Leonardo was going to throw the rope, though. He squatted and gathered it into his arms, pistol still in his hand. The coil of rope hid the weapon from view when he stood and braced himself close to the gunwale, ready to throw.
He twisted his body, calling on all his strength and hefted the rope out towards the Estrella. The strong movement threw his weight forwards, and as soon as he was unbalanced, Daniella reacted.
She dropped into a squatting position, wrapped both arms around Leonardo’s legs as if she were embracing them, and thrust herself upwards, tipping him head first over the side of the boat.
Daniella’s plan was to disarm Leonardo and gain the upper hand, and she executed it to perfection. Leonardo grabbed at the gunwale, but he was too far gone to help himself. His weapon tumbled away, and he fell head first into the water with a clumsy splash.
41
As soon as Leonardo was overboard, I threw the engine into reverse and took us away, leaving him to flounder in the water, arms beating the surface a dirty white.
While Daniella pulled the rope on board, whipping it through Leonardo’s grasping, empty fingers, I hurried back to the bow and snatched up the rifle. Within less than a minute I had checked the weapon and was pointing it down at the man who had made me fear for Daniella’s life.
Leonardo was harmless now, though. Daniella had seen to that. His pistol had fallen into the darkness of the river, and it looked as if I had been right about him not being able to swim because he struggled, arms thrashing and face pointed skyward, as he coughed and gasped for air. His panic at the fear of drowning was increased by the thought of what was in the river with him. Perhaps another jacaré – this time one large enough to drag him under and roll him like vermin until he was dead.
Beside me, Daniella looked shocked at what she had done. Surprise and fear in equal measure in her eyes. ‘I did it,’ she said with disbelief. ‘It worked.’
‘That was a risk,’ I told her, ‘but I’m not going to say you shouldn’t have done it. Even though you shouldn’t have.’ It might have ended in a different way, but the result here was a good one. We were back in charge of the Deus.
In the water, Leonardo’s instinct drove him to the nearest shallows – the sandbank upon which the Estrella had run aground – and his progress was slow and painful, his exhaustion clear.
I looked over at Matt, standing with his weapon pointed down at Leonardo, eyes on me. ‘Zico? What’s going on?’
I held up a hand. ‘Looks like we’ve got everything under control now.’
Beside Matt, Santiago was crouched low, half hidden behind the gunwale of his boat. Now he stood up, his face a picture of confusion. ‘What is this?’ he called. ‘Who is this guy?’
I kept the rifle trained on Leonardo as he made it to the shallower water, putting his feet on the fine sand.
‘Leonardo thought he could take control of our boat,’ I said. ‘Daniella had other ideas.’ When I glanced at her, I had that feeling of pride once more. She had done what I hadn’t been able to do. She had overpowered Leonardo. Outwitted the gunman.
Daniella was leaning forward, with both hands on the gunwale, glaring at Leonardo. She was shaking, and I understood how much courage it had taken for her to tackle him. Three days ago she had been behind a shop counter, reading a beauty magazine.
‘You were great,’ I said.
She turned to look at me and nodded with a small, sharp movement. The way her eyes stared out from the sweat and grime covering her face gave her a savage look, but she was as beautiful then as she had ever been.
I could not have loved Daniella any more than I did right then.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and allowed myself the briefest moment to enjoy the rare sense of certainty of my feelings, then I pushed those thoughts away. ‘Hold this,’ I said, handing the rifle to Daniella. ‘If he tries anything, shoot him.’
She nodded and I ran back to the box seat, talking a crowbar from the store and wedging it behind the padlock. One swift pull and the metal tore away from the wood.
When I returned to Daniella a few seconds later, I was reloading my pistols as I watched Leonardo begin wading across the shallows, and by the time my revolvers were tucked away in their holsters, he had stopped moving and turned to stare at me. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, a look of panic on his face.
‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Get me out of here. Pull me out.’
I took the rifle from Daniella and aimed at him. ‘Sand getting soft?’
Leonardo looked down at the water and began moving from side to side, trying to free himself from the sand that was sucking him down. ‘Get me out,’ he said again. ‘Please.’
I’m trying to think of a reason. I mean a good reason, why I shouldn’t just let you drown. Let the sand take you right down and make you a part of the river.’
‘Please.’ He had the same panicked tone I had heard when the jacaré tried to take him.
‘Bring us closer,’ I said to Daniella, lowering my voice. ‘You can do that, right?’
‘Sure.’ She stared down at Leonardo. ‘Are you going to help him?’
I’m not sure yet.’
She nodded, staring for a moment longer, then went back to the wheelhouse.
Within a few seconds, the engine was burbling and we were edging closer to the sandbank.
‘Thank you,’ said Leonardo. ‘Thanks.’
I’m coming to help them,’ I pointed at the Estrella, ‘not you.’
‘I need help,’ Leonardo shouted as his panic mounted. ‘I need pulling out. What about me?’
‘What about you?’
‘Surely you’re not going to let this man die,’ said a soft, lightly accented voice.
I didn’t need to look up to see who had spoken.
Over on the Estrella, Matt had lowered his pistol and his head. He almost seemed ashamed to be armed. Santiago was turned away from me, looking back onto his own boat. And there, framed in the open doorway of the housing, was Sister Do
lores Beckett.
Our eyes met, as they had done when the boat had passed us earlier that day, and once again the woman looked into my soul. Perhaps it was a trick they taught nuns; they didn’t carry any weapons other than a soulful stare and the word of God.
Her face was not calm, not serene, but neither was there any urgency or panic. She was stern like a schoolteacher demanding something of a child. She kept her expression fixed and hard, but her voice calm and confident.
I stared back, hoping to see some darkness in her. I wanted there to be a reason for her death. I would kill her to protect those I loved, and I would take the money for her blood, but I wanted there to be something more. A reason. There had to be something.
‘You must help him,’ she said.
‘Must I?’
‘‘Yes. Of course.’
‘Please,’ Leonardo’s voice was constricted by fear. ‘Make him help me.’
But no one else knew how he had terrorised us. How he had threatened and murdered.
‘Don’t let him kill me.’ He must have thought he was dead for sure, and yet here was a chance at life.
I broke eye contact with Sister Beckett and glanced round at the others. There were some strong personalities here, but everyone was turned towards her, submitting to her.
‘He’s not a good man.’ I said.
‘It’s not up to us to judge who is good and who is not.’
In Candomblé they taught people there is no good or bad, only destiny. Some of the boys in the favela used it as an excuse to do whatever they wanted, but Sofia told me that even though there might not have been good or bad, everything we did was returned to us, one way or another. Perhaps this was how Leonardo’s evil should be returned to him; by being sucked down beneath the River of Deaths.
‘If you leave him there he will die,’ Sister Beckett said.
I nodded. ‘Yes he will.’
‘And we will have murdered him.’ She was still standing in the doorway, another figure just visible behind her.