The Ways of Evil Men
Page 22
“Where’s the river?”
“On the Awana reservation.”
“Wait.”
He went out, came back with a topographical map, unrolled it, and anchored it with three books and an ashtray. “Show me.”
She ran a finger along the Jagunami until she came to the Sapoqui. “Here,” she said, tapping the map.
He leaned closer to look. “That’s all thick jungle, that is,” he said.
“Yes, it surely is. And we can’t just follow the Sapoqui upstream along the banks. The vegetation is too thick. We need a guide.”
“Vaz again?”
“Not Vaz. He’s frightened. He won’t go back.”
“Okay, you leave the guide to me.”
“I don’t have to. I already asked Amanda—”
“No. We need someone who knows how to keep his mouth shut. You leave finding the guide to me.”
Maura didn’t think the choice made any difference. She didn’t intend to tell a guide what they were looking for before they went. And they’d already have the evidence when they got back. She considered telling Nonato about her confessions to Gonçalves and Amanda, but he seemed anxious to keep everything confidential, so she decided not to. On the other hand, what if he was in on it?
If he is, she thought, too late now. I’ll just have to be bloody careful.
He was a little man, smaller than she was. And she had plenty of chemical mace back at Jade’s place. Two whole cans. They could put down four people his size.
“All right,” she said. “Finding the guide is with you. I’ll tell Amanda I no longer need one.”
“And you won’t tell her what we’re up to?”
“No.”
He looked relieved. “Good,” he said. “I suggest we leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Why not today?”
“Too suspicious, contracting a guide on the spur of the moment and asking him to leave right away. Besides, it’s already getting late.”
She looked at her watch. It wasn’t yet one in the afternoon.
“Late?” she said. “It’s not late.”
“But you don’t really know how far we have to go, do you? We should leave at first light. That way, we’ll have all day to do the job. We leave now, and there’s always a chance the sun will go down before we find what we’re looking for. And we sure as hell don’t want to get stuck out there in the dark, do we?”
“No. I suppose not.”
“You were right to come to me,” he said.
CESAR BONETTI put the telephone in his pocket and went back into the house.
“Forget something?” Maria asked.
“No. I got a call from Nonato. That bitch of a journalist just left his house. She told him she already has her results. She knows there’s mercury in the water.”
“Damn! Does he know if she told the federal cops?”
“That’s the good news. She didn’t. Not them, nor anyone else.”
“Thank God. Then we’re still okay. What was she doing talking to Nonato?”
“She wants to follow the Sapoqui upstream, wants him to go with her, wants to take pictures.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“So we’ve got to get to her today.”
“Yeah. Today.”
“Let’s stick to the plan, just move the schedule up a bit. You get out there, clean up the site and find the snake. I’ll call the snoop.”
* * *
MAURA HAD been surprised to get a phone call from Maria Bonetti and even more surprised when she heard what the woman had to say. According to her, one of her vaqueiros had been out hunting. He’d crossed over into the reservation and seen something there that Maura simply must hear about. It was linked to the conversation they’d had at lunch. The journalist tried to extract details on the telephone, but Maria kept insisting she hear the story firsthand.
“I don’t want to spoil it,” she said. “It’s got to be directly from him, and it’s going to knock your socks off.”
Maura didn’t like the idea of going out to the Bonetti place on her own, but the temptation of the scoop was strong.
“I don’t have a car,” she said. “Couldn’t you bring that vaqueiro to me?”
“Cesar is away, the truck has gone to town, and the battery on my jeep is flat. I hear your friend Jade left town with the Indian kid. How about you use her jeep?”
“Good idea. But I can’t remember where I put the keys. I’ll ring you back when I find them.”
A little later, Maura called back to confirm that she was on her way. Maria gave her detailed instructions to reach the house.
An hour and a half later, with a dry mouth, a perspiration-soaked shirt, and both cans of chemical mace tucked into her shoulder bag, Maura pulled up in front of the Bonetti’s veranda.
Maria answered the door herself. “It’s the servants’ day off,” she explained.
It hadn’t been, but they’d all been delighted to have it declared as one. And they hadn’t questioned her sudden generosity when she’d shipped them all off to town in the truck.
“And the vaqueiro?” Maura asked, putting aside her anxiety in her eagerness to hear his story.
“I’ve sent him a message. He should be here anytime now. Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee.”
“Coffee it is.”
“But if you don’t mind, I’d like to freshen up first.”
“I thought you might,” Maria said. “Put your purse over there. Towels, soap, everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. It’s this way.”
Going to the Bonetti’s home had been Maura’s first mistake. Her second was to set down the bag and follow Maria into an unlit hallway.
“In there,” her hostess said, pointing to a doorway with nothing but blackness beyond. “The light switch is on the left.”
But it wasn’t, and Maura was still trying to locate one when the door slammed shut behind her.
Chapter Forty-Four
IT HAD BEEN DARK for over an hour when a frowning Haraldo Gonçalves entered the bar. “Anybody seen Maura?”
Hector and Arnaldo shook their heads.
Silva didn’t react. He was on a slow burn. Earlier in the evening, Hector had told him about their visit to José Frade’s place and how he’d treated his wife. Subsequently, Silva had gone to Osvaldo for more information about the couple, and Amanda had told him about the chance encounter in the supermarket. Now he’d fallen silent, trying to think of a way to help the woman without prejudicing her more. It was a small issue in comparison to everything else on his plate, but little issues of injustice sometimes bothered him as much as the larger ones. It was an aspect of his character.
“No chance she’s with Gilda?” Gonçalves persisted.
“Gilda had a headache,” Hector said. “She’s gone to bed.”
“Wasn’t Maura supposed to be with you?” Arnaldo asked.
“She was, but she didn’t show up.”
“Show up where?”
“Amanda’s place. We, uh … had plans.”
“Plans, huh? No note?”
“No, nothing. The place is locked up. The lights are off. I’ve been sitting on the back porch since dinner.”
“It’s not like there’s anything else to do in this town,” Hector said. “You either stay home or you come here.”
“Exactly,” Gonçalves said. “I’m worried.”
Silva had been listening to the conversation with one ear. “Why should you be worried?” he asked.
Gonçalves wouldn’t meet his eyes. It immediately put the Chief Inspector on the alert.
“Look at me, Haraldo.”
Gonçalves did. And as quickly looked away again.
“You know something we don’t,” Silva said, his musings about Sonia Frade suddenly forgotten. “And I want to know what it is. Right now.”
Concealing something was one thing, telling a lie was another; Gonçalves couldn’t do it. He confessed.
“Not all the time, Chief Inspector. She only—”
“Why the hell didn’t she come clean with us?”
“She was angry with you for freezing her out of the investigation. She felt she was onto a good story, and she didn’t want it to happen again. She was going to tell you, but, well … later.”
“Later, eh?” Silva said.
Gonçalves blushed, the redness of it creeping up from his collar to cover his entire face.
Silva’s face was red too—but from anger. “I allow my men one mistake,” he said. “One. This has been yours.”
“Consider yourself lucky the Chief Inspector was here,” Hector said. “If he wasn’t, Haraldo, I swear to God I would have had your badge. And don’t think you’ve heard the end of this, because you haven’t.”
“Hector, you … you don’t understand.”
“You’re goddamned right I don’t.”
“Enough!” Silva said. “We haven’t time to bicker.” He pointed to the table where Doctor Pinto, José Frade, Delegado Borges, Renato Kassab, Father Castori, and Paulo Cunha were drinking together.
“Go over there,” he said to Gonçalves, “and ask each of those gentlemen about the last time they saw Maura.”
Arnaldo stood up. “Let me do that,” he said.
“Sit down, Arnaldo. I want Gonçalves to do it.”
When he was gone, Silva continued, “Those people were here before dinner. My hunch is we can exclude their involvement.”
“So why did you send Gonçalves over there?”
“To give both of you a couple of minutes to cool down. I think the kid’s in love. People do crazy things when they’re in love.”
“Babyface Gonçalves?” Arnaldo said. “Our Don Juan? In love? How about that!”
“You like him, don’t you?” Hector said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be cutting him so much slack.”
“Oh, I like him all right,” Silva said, “and I like her. I think she’s an admirable young woman, even if she is a journalist. But I have every intention of making him damned sorry he cut us out of the loop.”
“How about we transfer him to Belem, to work with Barbosa?”
“That would be way over the top,” Arnaldo said.
“Leave the disciplinary measures to me,” Silva said. “Let’s concentrate on finding Maura.”
Gonçalves came back shaking his head. “Nobody knows anything. It was the lawyer who saw her last. That was about three o’clock this afternoon. They didn’t speak, just nodded to each other on the street.”
“That’s it, then,” Silva said, standing up. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Gonçalves asked.
“LOOK,” BORGES said, “They’re leaving,”
Kassab and Pinto turned around and glanced at the backs of the retreating cops. Cunha took another sip from his glass of whiskey.
“Fuck them,” he said, slurring his speech.
“How about we have another round?” Father Castori said.
“Not for me,” Frade said, steadying himself in his chair. He was even drunker than Cunha.
“Where do you suppose they’re off to at this time of night?” Doctor Pinto said.
“Fuck them,” Cunha repeated.
“A round for everyone except José?” Father Castori asked, holding up a hand to capture Osvaldo’s attention.
“I’ve had enough,” the doctor said.
“What I’ve had enough of are our visitors from São Paulo and Brasilia,” Borges said. “They don’t treat me like a colleague. They don’t tell me a damned thing about what they’re doing. They don’t share their conclusions. I wish they’d all pack up and go home.”
“Patience, Fernando,” Kassab said. “Nobody’s telling them anything. It won’t be long before they wise up and realize they’ve hit a brick wall.”
“I don’t give a shit if they go or stay,” Frade said. He looked at Cunha. “I got nothing to fear from those fuckers—unlike some other people.”
“What do you mean by that?” Cunha said.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Kassab said, “that will be enough of that.”
“Enough is what I’ve had of him.” Cunha pointed at Frade. He got to his feet and, somewhat unsteadily, walked out.
Osvaldo appeared at their table. Castori ordered fresh drinks for himself and Borges. The doctor tossed a banknote on the table and stood up.
“That will cover my share,” he said.
Frade stood with him. “I gotta get some air,” he said and followed the doctor out the door.
The doctor turned right toward his home. Frade turned left and, like Omar Torres before him, stumbled into the alleyway.
Chapter Forty-Five
NO LIGHTS WERE SHOWING at Raul Nonato’s place, but from afar they could hear a voice: Zezinho to the Artist, the Artist shoots … Goooall!
A crowd erupted into raucous cheers. Silva pounded on the door. The audio went mute. A few seconds went by and then, “Who’s that?”
“Federal Police, Nonato. Open up!”
They heard him slip the bolt. The IBAMA agent was in pajamas, blue ones with black trim. He’d been drinking. They could smell the scotch. “What do you people want at this time of night? What’s so important it can’t wait until morning?”
This was a different Raul Nonato from the one Hector and Gonçalves had met on their first visit. The alcohol had turned him belligerent.
“We need to talk,” Silva said.
“I’m busy. Come back tomorrow.”
“Now. Step out of the doorway.”
He put up an arm to block their access. “You got a search warrant?”
“No. Now, step out of the doorway.”
Nonato, filled to the brim with liquid courage, stood his ground. “We can talk right here,” he said. “State your business.”
“We’re looking for the journalist, Maura Mandel. We have reason to believe she’s been kidnapped.”
“Really? What’s that got to do with me?”
“We believe that the people who kidnapped her are extracting gold illegally.”
“And?”
“And we think you know who they are.”
“I got no idea what you’re talking about. Fuck off and let me get back to my game.”
“May I?” Gonçalves said. “You may,” Silva said. He and Arnaldo stepped aside. “Senhor Nonato, I’m Agent Haraldo Gonçalves—”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are.”
Gonçalves drew his Glock and put the muzzle against the IBAMA agent’s left temple.
“—and if you tell us one more lie, I’m going to kill you.”
Nonato ducked his head, weaved, and tried to move away. Gonçalves grabbed him by the collar and pushed the muzzle more firmly into his head. Nonato lost control of his bladder. A stench of urine overpowered the odor of the scotch.
“Stop struggling,” Gonçalves said. “I don’t want this thing to go off by mistake.”
Nonato froze.
“Now, let’s start again. Where’s Maura Mandel?”
“Maybe … maybe at the Bonetti’s place. I don’t know for sure, but she could be there.”
“Thank you,” Gonçalves said, and pulled the trigger.
CESAR’S TRUCK needed a new muffler. Maria had heard him coming and was standing on the veranda to greet him
“What took you so long?”
“I wanted to be thorough, didn’t I?” he said. “And don’t think it was easy getting back here in the dark.”
“You could have called.”
“I tried. Fucking tower must be down again.”
“Everything taken care of?”
“The dredge is at the bottom of the river. The rest, I burned.”
“So that’s it then. There’s nothing to tie us to the place?”
> “Nothing. And I even brought a present.” He went around to the back of the truck and retrieved a jute sack, the mouth of it tied together with a piece of rope. When he shook it, an angry rattle emanated from the inside.
“A cascavel?” she said.
“You know anything else that makes a sound like that? He’s a huge bastard. And mean. Have we got her?”
“We’ve got her.”
“How did she get here?”
“Driving her friend’s jeep. I suggested it.”
“Good thinking. That way, she didn’t have to tell anybody where she was going, right?”
“Right. And I didn’t have to pick her up, so no one saw us together.”
He looked around. “So where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“The jeep.”
“I hid it in the barn. We’ll take it halfway to town and leave it near her corpse. That way, it’ll look like she was far, far away from here when the accident happened. Bring the sack. I’m itching to introduce the nosy little bitch to her new friend.”
THE SLAMMING of the door had left Maura in total blackness. She’d spun around, grabbed for the doorknob and found it locked. She’d switched her attention to the door itself and pounded on the hardwood. The only result had been to hurt her hand. Next, she’d tried screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Senhora Bonetti! Maria! What the hell are you doing? Let me out of here!”
There’d been no response. None at all.
She began to explore the space.
Setting off to the left of the door, she felt her way along the walls in hope of finding a switch.
And did. She tried it, but the room remained as black as ever. They’d either removed the bulb or the fuse, or there hadn’t been one or the other in the first place.
She kept going: a corner, another, a third, a fourth—and she was back at the door. Nothing along the way had impeded her progress. There were no fixtures, there was no plumbing, there were no shelves. Whatever the space was, it wasn’t—and never had been—a bathroom.
She took a step away from one of the corners and crossed to the opposite wall. And again. And again, until she’d cross-hatched the room in its entirety. Five paces, and a little more in each direction. The same on the other axis.