The Pineapple Republic

by Jack Treby

  ‘You’ve spoken to him, Charlotte,’ Malvado said. ‘Is he a man to break a promise?’

  I had accepted the general’s money and patronage. As far as he was concerned, that made me his property.

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘He is a bit of an idiot. But he wouldn’t just up and run away. He doesn’t have any reason to, does he?’

  ‘Viscoso thinks he’s been kidnapped.’

  ‘That does seem the most likely explanation,’ Viscoso agreed. ‘The opposition will do anything to prevent him standing against them. And I’m afraid it’s not just the Englishman they’ve kidnapped.’

  Malvado grimaced. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I was just about to tell you, sir. The young prostitute, Lolita Corazón. It seems she has been abducted as well. She was in the process of being transferred to Aislado prison. I got the news as I was coming here. The police were forced to stop at an illegal roadblock and I’m afraid the girl was spirited away.’

  ‘This is not good,’ the general muttered.

  ‘The men who abducted her were all wearing masks, but they definitely weren’t Azulitos.’

  ‘That confirms it,’ Malvado said. ‘It must be Fracaso. If he has the girl and the journalist, he can force your man to resign.’

  ‘I fear so, general. The poor fellow is so smitten with that young prostitute, I’m sure if they hold a knife to her throat he’ll do anything they ask.’

  ‘That has to be prevented at all costs.’

  ‘But if he wanted to pull out of the election, he’d have to go to the commission, wouldn’t he?’ Charlotte asked. The international commission had ultimate authority in all matters relating to the election. The commissioners were currently in residence at the Intercontinental Hotel. If the PRD decided not to contest the election, the commission would have to be informed in person by the party leader.

  ‘That is our one remaining card,’ Viscoso agreed. ‘If they send documentation without the man himself, we can always discredit it. And we do at least control access to the commission.’

  The general nodded. ‘Place extra security around the Intercontinental. I want to know where each of the commissioners is, twenty four hours a day. And nobody gets to speak to any of them without my say so.’

  ‘Of course, general. I’ll arrange it at once.’ The civil servant rose to his feet and gathered his papers from the glass table. ‘They do have a couple of engagements over the weekend, but our men are on full alert.’

  ‘I want no mistakes, Viscoso.’

  ‘There will be none, I assure you, sir.’

  ‘Good.’ Malvado placed his glass down on the table. ‘Because it’s your head on the block.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Independence Monument in the Plaza Mayor is a popular meeting place for those of a romantic disposition. It is not exactly private, but you can sit and watch the birds together or gaze at the Roman Catholic catedral without anybody paying you the slightest attention. You can also go there to have your shoes shined.

  Nacho used the place as a regular watching post. Rich tourists often visited the square and sitting beneath the statue the boy could spot a potential mark with the precision of a peregrine falcon. Thereafter, it only remained for him to strike. Nacho was very proud of his abilities.

  At five fifteen pm on Friday the eleventh of January, the lad had positioned himself at the base of the right leg of the statue. Dick Carter was sitting to the left, smoking a rolled–up cigarette. ‘I need you to do something for me,’ Dick said, between puffs, without looking round. Anyone watching them would assume the two were just passing the time of day.

  Nacho was typically blunt. ‘You pay, I help. You give me money?’ It was not that the boy was greedy; it was more a reflex action.

  ‘I’ll give you plenty of money, kid.’

  ‘What you want me to do?’ he asked

  Dick was clear on that. ‘I want you to follow Inspector Lopez. Wherever he goes.’

  ‘No problem. I follow him before.’

  Dick remembered. That was when Lolita had first been arrested. The inspector had taken her to see his brother. ‘Lopez pretty much admitted he’s working for the Azulitos. And they’re the only ones who can tell us what's going on with all this political stuff.’ Lopez had refused to help out, but Dick was determined to discover why the Azulitos were now supporting the PRD. ‘Lopez is out on a limb at police headquarters. No one would dare contact him there. But he’s got to meet up with them some time. I want you to find out where he goes when he’s not on duty.’

  ‘No problem. In Toronja, I follow. But sometimes Lopez, he drives out of town. I no follow him then.’

  ‘That’s all right. I can take it from there. I just want you to get at his car.’

  ‘What you want me to do?’

  ‘At the moment, it’s parked out in the back lot at police headquarters. They’ve got security cameras, guards, the lot. I want you to keep watch. See where he goes. If you can, follow him when he leaves the station. And if you can get close to his car, I want you to plant this on it.’ Dick held up a shiny metallic coin. It was small and rounded, like a watch battery. ‘A little gizmo of mine. Sort of tracking device. It’s magnetic. If you can plant it on the car, then we can follow him wherever he goes.’

  Nacho took the tracer. ‘They check cars for this. Not all the time but sometimes.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. How do you think I got hold of that one? They tried to plant it on me, the cheeky buggers.’

  Dick was an old hand at the espionage game. He knew all the tricks. He had found the device on the underside of his Volkswagen in a routine check. He had pulled it off and adjusted the frequency; and now he would turn the tables on them. ‘It won’t need to work for long.’ He reached into his pockets and pulled out a small piece of card. He scribbled down a number and tossed it across to Nacho. ‘Call me when you’ve got something to tell me.’ He slipped the boy a hundred Cambures. ‘Same again when you’ve finished the job.’

  ~ ~ ~

  The black and green taxi pulled up outside a nondescript building in an older part of town. I was getting used to being driven about in minicabs. My Ford Fiesta had long since been returned to the hire company. Since leaving the ranch, I had swapped vehicles twice. I didn’t know exactly where I was going and I suspect even the cab drivers didn’t know my ultimate destination. Their job was simply to lose my tail and deliver me to a specified rendezvous point. We sailed through the roadblocks on the edge of town. I was huddled down out of sight in the back seat. Perhaps the army didn’t bother checking minicabs, if there were no passengers.

  The driver of the third cab had been entrusted with our final address. And at last the car pulled up.

  The driver threw me back a large hat and a pair of sunglasses. As I put them on, he stepped out into the street and glanced around. It was a quiet place and there was no one in view. Some of the buildings looked derelict. One was covered in bullet holes. The man gestured for me to get out of the taxi. I stepped onto the pavement and narrowly avoided falling into a huge crack between the paving stones. A door opened nearby and another man skipped out in front of me. Without any preamble, he jumped into the taxi and drove the vehicle away. My own driver, following me quickly into the building, gestured me along the hallway and up a flight of stairs.

  Secret meetings always seem to take place upstairs in San Doloroso.

  This time, I was expecting Antonio Fracaso. The large middle–aged man was standing behind a desk, staring out at the street. He turned as we entered. He looked a little nervous, though he relaxed a bit when he caught sight of me. He glanced at my escort, a bearded man wearing a flat cap and glasses. ‘Are you sure you weren’t followed?’ The driver shook his head. Security was of the greatest importance, but the man had been careful. ‘Good. Thank you, Jaime. I’ll speak to you later.’ The driver departed, clomping down the stairs and taking up position at the front entrance.

  Fracaso turned his attention back to me. He was a large, stocky
man of mixed race. His rounded eyes looked tired and worn, but he came forward with a friendly smile, his hands outstretched in greeting. ‘I am glad you got here safely.’

  ‘Me too,’ I agreed. ‘I wasn’t expecting to leave until tomorrow.’ The call had come through at the last minute. I had barely had time to pack.

  ‘I’m sorry. It was beyond my control. Viscoso could only give us a few hours notice.’

  ‘I understand. It’s not a problem. Did it work out?’

  The plan had been for Lolita and me to go into hiding at the same time. Getting her away from the police would be far more difficult than getting me away from the ranch.

  ‘Your friend is well. We have her in a safe house already and she’ll be properly looked after. Lolita will be secure there until after the election. So you can set your mind at rest.’

  I smiled. Lolita’s rescue had been the most awkward part of the scheme and I was glad it had gone off without a hitch. ‘I did have an appointment with Dick Carter this evening.’ He had promised to give me an update on the Azulitos and their inexplicable poster campaign. ‘He might get worried if I don’t turn up.’

  ‘We’ll get someone to contact him. He knew this was coming.’ Dick had been forewarned about my disappearance, with Fracaso’s consent. If anything went wrong, he at least would live to tell the tale.

  ‘How did you get here without being seen?’ I asked, out of curiosity. The government, I knew, devoted far more time to watching Antonio Fracaso than it did to watching me.

  Fracaso smiled sadly. ‘I’ve had years of practise. As far as the authorities are concerned, I’m currently at home listening to some music and typing up a speech I’m going to give on Saturday night.’

  Fracaso was a brave man. He had nearly been killed by the Azulitos in November and had lost several of his colleagues in the blast. The Freedom Party had been forced to move offices and had had to reorganise the whole administration of the party. The bombs had not been the end of the affair. As predicted, the provisional government had steadily escalated their campaign against him. Unlike the Azulitos, there was no question of the Junta trying to assassinate him. But there had been violence and intimidation against Freedom Party supporters. Many of his colleagues had been incarcerated. Fracaso himself had been arrested on two occasions and subjected to intensive police interrogation. In the circumstances, he seemed remarkably cheerful.

  ‘All the indications are, we can win this vote,’ he told me enthusiastically. ‘Emilio Títere is a famous face, but he’s more known in Mexico and Guatemala than he is here. And in any case, everyone knows the PSI is a government party. Father José isn’t the only one to have publicly condemned Títere as a military puppet. Everybody knows he’s just a front for General Malvado. And everyone hates the Junta. If it’s a straight choice between me and Emilio, I’ll win. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Well, I wish you all the best.’

  ‘It’s thanks to you that we’ve got this far. I don’t think the government would have allowed the election to go ahead at all if they thought it was going to be a fair fight. You’re my trump card.’

  That was reassuring to hear. I had been going along with the pretence of being a government crony for far too long. It was not an easy thing to do. Some of my colleagues in the press had been less than kind. ‘So when exactly am I going to resign?’

  ‘Sunday night.’

  I frowned. ‘Isn’t that leaving it a bit late?’ Polling would be held the following Tuesday.

  ‘It gives us all day Monday to organise things properly and make sure everyone knows to cross your name off the ballot papers.’

  ‘How are you going to get me in front of the commission?’

  ‘Viscoso has it all in hand. The commissioners are due to present an interim report on Sunday night.’ The four men and two women who made up the Electoral Commission had been staying at the Intercontinental Hotel for the past few weeks, courtesy of the United Nations. The international community placed a great deal of trust in their opinions. Three of the commissioners were native San Dolorosons. One was a lawyer, one a doctor and one a Nobel Prize winning novelist. All three had lived in exile during the reign of Miguel Vicente Ladrón. The international element was represented by a Canadian, a Frenchwoman and a South African. ‘The meeting is being held at the British Embassy.’

  That seemed a rather odd choice. ‘Why there?’

  ‘Britain is a disinterested party. It could have been held at the US Embassy, but the commissioners don’t want to create the impression that they’re acting on behalf of any particular country. There is a lot of anti–American feeling in San Doloroso.’

  ‘So how are you going to get me in? The government will be watching the place like a hawk.’

  ‘Viscoso has arranged it all. We’ll give you the necessary paperwork. Once you’re inside, you can present it to the commission in person and formally withdraw from the election.’

  That sounded reasonable. ‘And what about... afterwards?’

  ‘You can throw yourself on the mercy of the British Ambassador.’

  That was not so reasonable. ‘I’ve met the British Ambassador,’ I explained. ‘He won’t protect me. He can’t. Not with a murder charge hanging over my head.’

  Fracaso shook his head dismissively. ‘The investigation was suspended when you became party leader. To open it again would take time. Finch is a good man. He can prevaricate for thirty–six hours. And that’s all we need.’

  I sat down on a chair. ‘It all sounds very plausible,’ I admitted. But I could not hide the doubt in my voice.

  ‘Nothing can go wrong,’ the leader reassured me. ‘The people are on our side. This time next week the Freedom Party will be the democratically elected government of San Doloroso, and you’ll be flying home.’

  ~ ~ ~

  Nacho had managed to plant the bug on Inspector Lopez’s car first thing on Saturday morning, but it wasn’t until late afternoon that the inspector left his place of work a second time. At four o’clock, his red Corvette pulled out of the compound of the Central Police Headquarters and hit the main road for Ardiente. Nacho immediately called the Intercontinental Hotel.

  Dick drove over and picked the boy up.

  Lopez had taken the direct route to Father José’s home town. It was a twenty–five minute drive, once you were clear of the capital’s one–way system. By the time Dick’s Beetle pulled up in Ardiente, the inspector was already long gone. He had left the Corvette in an open air lock–up. Dick found the place easily enough with the aid of the tracker. He parked his Beetle a few streets up, found Nacho a hiding place on the far side of the compound and then settled down to await the inspector’s return.

  Nearly an hour passed before there was any sign of him. Dick had found a good position overlooking the lock–up. Lopez returned with two other men, neither of whom Dick recognised. At a guess, one of them could have been the inspector’s brother. He had the same build and distinctive lack of height. The third man was even shorter; and none of them had much hope of winning first prize in a beauty contest.

  Lopez unlocked the gate to the compound and returned to his car. Dick crossed his fingers and hoped the other two men would hang around to say goodbye. Sure enough, the two strangers stood back and waited as Lopez drove the Corvette out into the street and headed off back in the direction of Toronja.

  The two friends left the lock–up together, heading away from Dick’s position. Luckily, Nacho was waiting further up the street. The young kid would tail the men and Dick would follow discreetly behind. It made sense for Nacho to keep closer to them. He didn’t look quite so out of place on the streets of Ardiente.

  The Escoria wound their way through several narrow lanes before entering a large, dilapidated hall. Nacho waited a few seconds to make sure they weren’t going to come back out, then popped down a side street to confer with the Englishman.

  ‘I go look round,’ Nacho suggested.

  There were walls masking the two side
s of the hall, but an area of waste ground lay to the rear. Nacho bounced down the alleyway and out into the open. Another low wall protruded some metres from the back of the building. Nacho peered over the top. An Azulito was standing watch there, smoking a cigarette. The boy ducked down and tiptoed off to tell Dick.

  ‘You go see back way,’ he suggested.

  Between the near side wall and the hallway there was a narrow passage. Clouds were gathering overhead – the sky was beginning to darken – but the window would give the journalist a good view into the building.

  Nacho returned to the lower wall, ready to distract the guard. He clambered up and started to walk along the top of it with his arms stretched out either side of him. The Azulito spotted him at once. ‘Oy! Get down off there!’

  ‘You want to buy cigarettes?’ Nacho called back. ‘Good price!’ He reached into his pockets and proffered some Marlborough Lights. The Indian strolled across suspiciously.

  At the side of the building, out of view, Dick struggled to pull himself up. Nacho had managed to draw the Azulito away to the far corner, but there was still a chance the man would hear the thump when Dick jumped down onto the concrete. The passageway was narrow and stretched the length of the hall. It would be easier getting out than getting in. There was a wooden gate at the front end, which could be opened from the inside. Dick swung his legs over the top of the wall and lowered himself down with his hands. There was still a small gap to jump, but he hit the ground softly and ducked out of view of the window. When he felt certain the guard had heard nothing, he lifted himself up and peered into the hall.

  It was a rather functional building and nothing much seemed to be happening inside. One of Inspector Lopez’s friends – the fat one, not the brother – was lighting some candles. The hall needed to be lit, but Dick could see the power cable stretching down to the roof of the building and electric lights hanging from the ceiling. The candles were not just there to provide illumination. Perhaps it was some kind of religious gathering. Other men were beginning to arrive. More Azulitos. And unlike Lopez’s two friends, these men were in proper uniform. The baseball caps looked out of place in the dull auditorium but the Azulitos kept their hats firmly on their heads. Some were even wearing dark glasses. The Indians greeted each other solemnly. None of them were smiling.