by Dan Smith
‘Yes,’ Leonardo spoke again. ‘Please don’t murder me. Help me. Please.’ The sand was pulling him in slowly. He was at least knee deep in it, the water close to his chest. A few minutes longer and he would be gone. ‘We’re not alike,’ he said. ‘You’re not like me.’
‘Because you would let me sink?’ I looked down at him and wondered if it was a good time to remind him of the people he had shot two days ago. ‘And it’s not we,’ I spoke to Sister Beckett. ‘It’s me. I will have murdered him. And I don’t have any problem with that at all.’
‘I dare say you don’t,’ she replied. ‘But if I stand here and let you do this’ – she looked around at the others – ‘if we stand here and let you do this, then we will have all killed this man. And I do not plan to let that happen.’
‘And how are you going to stop me?’
‘I’m going to appeal to your better nature.’
‘What if I don’t have one?’
‘Everyone does.’ She showed me a sad smile. ‘Some of us just need to dig a little deeper to find it.’ Then she spoke to Santiago, saying, ‘Captain, please help that man.’
Santiago made a move but I stopped him. ‘No.’ I pulled the rifle tight to my shoulder, closed one eye and trained the iron sights on Leonardo’s forehead. ‘He doesn’t deserve your help.’ I dropped my finger over the trigger, beginning to squeeze.
‘Zico.’ Daniella put a hand on my back. ‘Don’t.’
‘But after everything he’s done?’ I spoke quietly. ‘After Rocky and the old man and how he threatened you? You put him in there, Daniella and—’
‘He doesn’t need to die. He’s not dangerous now.’
‘As long as he’s alive, he’s dangerous.’
‘I don’t want you to ...’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t want you to be like that.’
Perhaps she didn’t need to see every side to me.
I sighed and turned back to Sister Beckett. ‘All right. I’ll help him. But, trust me, you don’t want this man on board your boat.’ I put down the rifle and picked up the rope to throw to Leonardo, seeing his hopeful, smug face looking up at me. It would have felt good to let him drown out here. Watching him die would not have given me any difficulty at all. I hardly knew anyone who had deserved it more.
‘Zico?’ asked Sister Beckett. ‘Is that your name?’
I looked over at her and nodded.
‘Good,’ she said, keeping her eyes trained on mine. ’Pull him up, Zico. You’ll be glad you did.’
I took a deep breath and threw him the rope.
I was saving a man’s life, but nothing about it felt good. If it hadn’t been for Sister Beckett and Daniella, standing firm like pillars to support my conscience, I might have forgotten the money and let him sink below the surface, watch him suck the silt-laden water into his lungs with his last, gasping breaths.
Daniella had asked me to save him, but I knew she was torn between letting him live and letting him die. She was struggling with her own mind, knowing it was wrong and yet wanting it at the same time.
I, on the other hand, was saving Leonardo so that Daniella didn’t have to suffer any more guilt than she already was. She had put him in the river, so she would feel responsible for his death, and she would be struggling with the thought that part of her wanted him to die. I also told myself the money was a good reason to keep him alive. Without him, we might never be paid for this trip, and the old man’s effort would have been wasted.
The muscles in my back strained as I pulled on the rope Leonardo had tied around his waist. My biceps burned and my forearms tightened into cords. I braced my feet square against the gunwale and put every effort into dragging Leonardo to safety.
He didn’t come out of the sand like a cork from a bottle. More like finally sliding a splinter from your finger. It wasn’t a sudden movement, but a gradual release as the river let go and finally gave him up.
Once he was free, I hauled him towards the Deus, taking no regard for how he spun in the river like a fishing lure, his head bobbing below the surface, water invading his mouth and gritting his eyes.
As the others watched in silence, I pulled him hard against the hull of our boat, banging his face, drawing blood, and then dragging him up. Leonardo clung to the skirt of tyres, trying to take more control over his rescue now that he was out of the water, but when he finally climbed up onto the gunwale, I took a step back and tugged hard, toppling him onto the deck. I immediately went to him, crouching out of sight of the others and drawing one of my revolvers. With my left hand, I grabbed Leonardo’s chin as he gasped for a deep breath of air, and with the other, I pushed the barrel of my gun between his teeth.
‘Zico?’ Daniella said. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Making him safe.’
‘You’re not going to—’
‘No,’ I assured her. I’m not going to kill him.’ I felt Leonardo relax beneath me, so I pushed the pistol harder and looked into his eyes. ‘Unless he makes me.’
Leonardo shook his head. Much of the soot and grime was gone from his face now, but there was blood around his nose and it seeped between his lips and created a film across the top of his upper teeth. It filled the narrow gaps; a stark crimson against the yellow-white enamel.
With the barrel in place, I frisked my free hand across his body, looking for any sign of other weapons, but there was nothing.
I leaned close to his face and looked into his bloodshot eyes. ‘The only reason you’re alive is because I want it to be that way. Don’t fool yourself into thinking anything else. The only reason you’re still on this boat is because it’s where I want you to be, you understand?’
Eyes wide. Mouth wide. Chest hitching up and down, his breathing rasping around the barrel of my revolver.
‘Nod your head.’
He nodded.
‘Good.’
Daniella watched with interest. Not disgust. Not fear. Interest.
‘So we’re going to be nice to the people on the Estrella,’ I said. ‘Do what we can to help, then we’re going to go to Mina dos Santos, OK?’
He nodded again, teeth grating on steel.
‘We’re going to deliver your guns and we’re going to get the rest of our money, OK?’
Nod.
‘I could kill you right now, put you in the water for the fish, but you owe the old man money. Fuel costs money. His time costs money. My time costs money. I could try to make you tell me who the guns are for, but you’re not going to give that up easily. It’s the only thing keeping you alive and things would get messy before you tell me; I don’t want to get into that in front of all these nice people. So for now, you have some value to me. You’re going to make your delivery, make your payment and then, then, I’m going to decide whether or not to kill you. If you try to screw me before any of those things happens, I will kill you. Do you understand?’
I took the gun away, raking the foresight against the roof of his mouth and crashing it against his teeth. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ he managed. ‘I understand.’
‘Zico?’ I heard Santiago’s voice. ‘Everything OK over there?’
‘Fine,’ I called back, still out of sight. Then I lowered my voice again. ‘In a second I’m going to let you stand up. When you do, you’re going to remove your shirt and your trousers.’
‘What—’
‘Don’t talk. Just do it.’ I untied the rope from around his waist and grabbed the scruff of his shirt. I hauled him to his feet and stood him straight, dripping onto the deck, so that Sister Beckett and the others could see him.
‘He’s safe,’ I said. ‘Unharmed.’
‘Are you going to shoot him?’ Sister Beckett asked me.
‘Wouldn’t I have done it already?’
‘Are you going to shoot him, Zico?’ she asked again, wanting a different answer.
I glanced down at the weapon in my hand. ‘I thought about it,’ I told her. ‘But no, I’m not going to shoot him. Not yet, anywa
y.’
‘You’ve done the right thing,’ she said.
‘Take off your shirt and your trousers,’ I told Leonardo.
He looked at me as if deciding whether or not I was serious, then started to unbutton his shirt. He removed it with a little difficulty because it was wet, then he wiped his face on it, the blood spreading into the checked pattern, soaking into the lighter parts, making the injury to his nose look worse. He made sure everyone could see it before he dropped it on the deck at his feet.
‘Trousers.’
He unfastened the button and wriggled out of the wet trousers, struggling to pull them over the bandage around his calf.
‘What are you doing?’ Santiago asked, turning to his friend. ‘Why is he taking his clothes off?’
‘Zico’s making him safe,’ Matt replied for me. ‘The guy must’ve done something bad.’
‘Like what? What did he do, Zico? What did this guy do to you?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
When Leonardo was finished, he stood beneath the canopy in just a pair of cotton shorts. Shafts of sunlight cut through the singed holes in the canvas and rested on his skin like birthmarks.
I ordered him to the seat where he had kept my belongings and took a couple of cable ties from my pack, the kind electricians use to keep things tidy.
‘I didn’t want all this,’ Leonardo said.
‘You should have thought about that before you pointed your gun at us.’
‘Please, Carioca. Zico. I just wanted to make you get there on time. I just—’
I took his chin in one hand and lifted his face so I could look into his eyes. ‘You killed two men, and you tried to kill my friend’s dog – you were going to kill him, too.’
‘No.’ He tried to shake his head.
‘You pointed a gun at my girlfriend, and I saw the way you were watching her last night. I know what you are, Leonardo.’ I raised my other hand as if to hit him, clenching my fingers into a tight fist around the handle of my revolver.
Leonardo flinched away, turning his head, but I stayed my hand and straightened up. ‘Put one round his wrist.’ I handed the ties to Daniella and pointed the gun at Leonardo. ‘Make it tight.’
She did as I asked, putting the tapered end through the locking section and pulling it closed with a clicking sound.
‘Put another one through it and round the post.’ I said, indicating the roof support bolted to the deck beside the seat.
When Daniella was done, Leonardo was, more or less, handcuffed to the boat. ‘Now he’s not going anywhere,’ I said to her. ‘Now he’s safe.’
Leonardo pulled once at the plastic ties and slumped his shoulders in resignation. If he struggled too much, the plastic would tighten and cut into his skin.
‘So what do we do now?’ Daniella asked. ‘We can’t just leave them.’
I looked over at the Estrella, Sister Beckett and Santiago waiting, and I considered my next move. I knew Daniella wanted me to help them and I didn’t see that I had any other choice.
‘Right, then.’ I went to the side of the boat and looked across at the others. ‘Let’s see if we can pull you off the sand.’
42
Sister Beckett watched me throw the rope over to the Estrella, stepping back when the coils landed with a thump near her feet. She glared at me as if I had aimed it at her, then moved back into the cabin and disappeared from view. I knew she was there, though, disapproving, and already we had made a connection I had not wanted to make.
Santiago and Matt grabbed the rope before its weight could drag it back into the water, and they tied it off to the railing at the stern of the Estrella. Any cleats that might have once been there were long gone.
‘Will it work?’ Daniella asked me.
‘Who knows?’ I put the engine into reverse and slid backwards over the water until the rope tightened, but the Estrella didn’t budge from the sand.
‘That woman?’ Daniella said over the sound of the engine. ‘You know her?’
‘No. Why?’
Daniella shrugged. ‘Don’t know. The way you looked at her. The way she talked to you. It’s like there was something going on.’
‘Something like what?’
‘I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose.’
Beneath us the engine grumbled, and behind us the River of Deaths churned into foam, but we remained stationary and the Estrella remained on the sand.
‘It’s not working,’ I said, looking at Daniella sitting beside me.
‘And if we do this too long we’ll damage the Deus. Then we’ll all be stuck out here. We don’t want—’
‘Stop! Stop!’
I looked up to see Santiago and Matt waving their arms, but it was too late. With a sudden release, and the sound of shearing metal, the railing came away from the stern of the Estrella, ripping out and flicking out into the water.
The Deus lurched and began trawling backwards, dragging the metal railing like an anchor.
I stopped the boat and went to the bow to pull the rope back in, straining against the weight of the railing until I could pull it no longer. ‘It’s stuck,’ I shouted to Santiago. ‘Caught on something.’
‘Time’s running out,’ Leonardo said.
‘I’ll have to cut it.’ I ignored him and lifted my shirt, taking the knife and sawing at the thick rope.
‘You had that the whole time?’
I stopped sawing and turned to look at Leonardo. He was leaning back on the seat, trying to find a comfortable position. ‘You had a knife the whole time and you never tried to use it?’
I didn’t reply.
‘There must’ve been times,’ he said. ‘Times when you could’ve done it. How long has it been? Two days? And in all that time you never saw a moment to use it?’
‘Maybe I should use it now.’
‘Now that I’m tied here, you mean? You’d like that? To kill me like a pig that has its feet tied? You said you’re not like me, Zico, and you know what? I think you were right. But the difference is that you’re softer than me. You don’t have the same edge.’ He smiled as if he knew something that made him better than me. ‘I know why you didn’t use it.’
I turned back to the rope, cutting through another strand of it.
‘It’s because of her,’ he said. ‘That’s why you didn’t use it. Because you were afraid of what might happen to her.’
I continued to cut.
‘Me?’ Leonardo went on. ‘I would have used it because I was afraid of what might happen to her. You chose to protect her by doing nothing. I would have chosen to do something.’
The blade went through the last strand of the rope and I let it slide overboard and sink into the River of Deaths as I turned to Leonardo and put the knife to his throat. Then you should be glad I’m me and not you.’ I said. ‘Otherwise I’d be pushing this through your neck right now and dropping you in there for the piranhas.’
Leonardo tried to back away, but the ties prevented it, and the most he could do was turn his head. He raised his free hand in submission. ‘But I didn’t harm you, did I?’ he said. ‘I didn’t touch her. I could have, but I didn’t.’
‘Not so tough when the knife is at your throat, are you?’
‘Zico.’ Daniella stood up behind the wheel. ‘Don’t—’
‘I’m not going to.’ I released pressure on the knife. ‘I’m not going to.’
‘Everything OK over there?’ Santiago’s voice.
I stayed where I was, wavering with the blade at Leonardo’s throat, my face turned towards Daniella, then I relaxed and took it away, wiping it once on my trousers before slipping it out of sight.
‘I don’t think this is going to work,’ I called back to Santiago, noticing that Sister Beckett was in the doorway again, like she was a guardian angel for the killer I had seized. She had no idea what the man had done. She knew only that I had threatened him. ‘We’re never going to pull you out of there.’
Santiago nodded in agreement.
<
br /> ‘You’re too deep,’ I said. ‘You were going too fast.’
He rolled his eyes at me. ‘The sand will shift. It’ll let us go when it’s ready.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘Where are you headed?’
‘Mina dos Santos. We can send help from there. A couple of other boats should be able to pull you free.’ It was just as I had wanted it. We’d have time to get to Mina dos Santos, go ashore and wait for Sister Beckett to come to us.
The nun leaned close to Santiago and spoke to him. I could hear the sound of her voice carry across the hot, still air, but I couldn’t make out the words. Santiago seemed to think about something, running his eyes over the Deus as if assessing her, then he spoke to me. ‘You’ll be in Mina dos Santos by nightfall?’
‘Probably. Depends how long we stay here,’ I said.
‘By the time you get there it’ll be too dark. No one will come,’ Santiago said. ‘Anyway, there’s never any boats there, just a few canoes.’
‘They’ll be fast,’ I said. ‘And they can come right into the shallows. Maybe they can dig you out.’
‘No. When are you coming back?’
‘Tomorrow.’
Santiago spoke to Sister Beckett and she pursed her lips, looking across at us, her eyes on Leonardo. She thought for a while, then stepped forward to the gunwale where the railing had been. ‘We’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘You can take us to Mina dos Santos. Help Santiago on your return in the morning.’ She made it sound like she was giving us permission to take her further on her journey; as if it would be a privilege for us to have her on board.
It was a strange moment. Almost dreamlike. The woman who had been my obsession for these last few days was standing in front of me, wanting to board my boat. Until this meeting, she had been a pervasive presence, but now she was a reality, coming closer and closer, as if to test my nerve.
‘I ... No. He’s a dangerous man.’ I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. ‘You won’t be safe.’ I didn’t want her on board; I didn’t want any connection to her at all. When she disappeared, someone would come looking for her, and I didn’t want them to come to me.
‘He doesn’t look so dangerous,’ Sister Beckett replied.