by Mark McKay
‘You have an address for him?’
‘Unfortunately not. We’re expecting him back any time now.’
‘I want to talk to all of your guests,’ said Ibanez.
Jason was politeness itself. ‘Of course, Captain. However, on the day Emilio was murdered,’ he said, looking directly at Nick, ‘these people weren’t here yet. I don’t think they’ll be of much help.’
‘That girl over there was here,’ said Nick, pointing out Vanessa, who had been looking in their direction for some time.
‘I’ll talk to them all anyway,’ said Ibanez. ‘But we’ll start with her. Is there a room I can use?’
Jason said he could use the office. Ibanez told Nick to stay where he was. He tried to tell Isabella the same thing, but she wasn’t buying. They had a heated exchange in Spanish which ended in her going with him. Jason gave them a few minutes and then took Vanessa into the office. He came back and made a point of sitting with his guests. Josh and Hank kept their distance, too. Nick sat alone and tried to relax, there was nothing else to do. It might take a couple of hours to interview all these people. Then Isabella appeared at the restaurant door and beckoned him. He walked over to join her.
‘She wants to talk to you.’
Ibanez was seated behind Jason’s desk with Vanessa facing him. Isabella and Nick sat down either side of her. She looked close to tears.
‘On the day you left,’ she said, ‘Don Gilberto also went. He argued with Jason and then got on to the second flight out of here. But he gave me this.’ She had a scrap of paper, which she laid on the desk. ‘It’s the address of his brother in Iquitos. He said if the police came, to give it to them. But I wasn’t to tell anyone else.’
‘Did you see another man? A stranger?’ asked Nick.
‘There was someone at Jason’s house,’ she answered. ‘I only saw him from a distance. But another plane came in a few days ago. I think it was for him.’
‘And after that, did you see anything being moved?’
Vanessa shook her head. ‘No.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Josh took us into the jungle two days running. Insisted we all go, though I’ve done that trek twice already. So we haven’t been here all the time.’ She looked anxiously at Nick. ‘What happened to you? They brought your friend’s body out of the jungle and you were gone…’
‘Someone wanted to kill me. I got out the way we came in.’
Vanessa’s eyes widened. ‘The vibe around here has been awful since that day. And I don’t feel safe. Will you take me back to Iquitos with you, please? I want to get out of here.’
Ibanez had been listening to all this with interest. He looked at Nick with new eyes. ‘So, Mr Severance. Perhaps you were telling the truth, after all. If we can find this Don Gilberto in Iquitos and he confirms your story…’
‘Yes,’ agreed Nick. ‘If we can find him. Pity they moved the cocaine. You could have arrested the lot of them.’
Ibanez made no comment. Instead he turned to Vanessa. ‘Go and pack your things senorita. We won’t be here much longer.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling. ‘Thank you so much.’ She got up to leave.
‘I will speak to everyone else, but I will keep it short,’ said Ibanez. ‘Go back to the restaurant, Mr Severance. We will be leaving within the hour.’
Nick did as he was told. Isabella came in shortly afterwards and called out a name from the list. A man got up in response and followed her. When Vanessa didn’t reappear, Jason got suddenly agitated and stood up, but then promptly sat down again when one of the two men on the door signed at him to stay where he was.
Nick reflected on what he’d just heard. It looked like Don Gilberto wanted to be found by the police, so he could tell his side of the story. That was encouraging. Unfortunately, Conrad would have noted the speed with which the shaman had departed and might have come to a similar conclusion. He would still think Nick was locked up and no threat, but Don Gilberto was a loose end. It was a question of who would get to him first. Nick could only hope it wasn’t too late.
Chapter 8
Once Ibanez had finished interviewing people, he returned to the restaurant with Isabella. They sat with Nick, waiting for Vanessa to finish packing. Ibanez gestured to Jason and he came over to their table.
‘This man Conrad,’ said Ibanez. ‘He flew out where?’
‘Back to London.’
‘Who is he and why was he here?’
Jason explained that Conrad Steadman was a new account manager with Hackett Pharmaceuticals. He’d come to Peru to see the plants for himself and discuss how the distribution network for the new product would work in Europe.
‘Why is a pharmaceutical company interested in a natural health product?’ Nick wanted to know.
‘They see the potential,’ said Jason. ‘In fact, they’re pretty excited about el semental in London.’
‘Will Mr Steadman be coming back to Iquitos in the near future?’ asked Ibanez.
‘I expect so. I don’t have a date, if that’s what you’re after.’
Ibanez grunted. ‘Just give me his contact details in London, then. And while I am investigating the death of Emilio Ramos I want you and your partners to remain here. I may have more questions.’
‘Of course.’
By this time, Vanessa was ready. She came into the restaurant, complete with backpack and one small suitcase.
‘You’re taking her with you?’ asked Jason. He looked less than delighted by the prospect.
‘Family emergency,’ said Nick. ‘Good thing we were here to help, don’t you think?’
Jason didn’t share his thoughts on that. When he walked them back to the Cessna, the disapproval on his face was comment enough. Vanessa ignored him.
Once the plane was up in the air, Ibanez turned to Nick.
‘When you find Don Gilberto, bring him to the station. I have other things to do today.’
‘I’m going there soon as we land. What about the cocaine? I wasn’t lying about that.’
‘It wasn’t there, Mr Severance. It was interesting, however, that the fridge you said it was in wasn’t switched on. No one likes warm beer.’
‘It could be anywhere by now.’
Ibanez shrugged. ‘Yes. I could check the port for shipments that might match, but that will take time. And I don’t have the men available.’
He turned away and the subject was closed.
When they got back to the airport, Nick and Isabella drove Vanessa into Iquitos. She directed them to what looked like a cheap hotel and they dropped her off. Then they went straight to the address she’d given them. It was a side street away from the centre of town, and was quiet. The houses down here were compact single-storey buildings joined together to form long terraces. They were mostly painted brick, with shuttered doors and windows and corrugated iron roofs. Not an affluent area, but clean and tidy enough. Isabella drove along slowly till she saw the number she was looking for. She pulled over and they crossed the road to knock at the door.
They could hear someone moving around inside. Then the door opened and a man not unlike Don Gilberto, but somewhat older, was staring at them. He smiled politely. ‘Buenos Dias.’
Isabella did the talking. This went on for a minute and then the brother stepped outside and pointed to his right, apparently giving her directions. Isabella thanked him and they went back to the car.
‘We missed Don Gilberto by an hour,’ she said. ‘He’s gone to the market. They have a stall there which sells traditional medicine. That’s where we’ll find him.’
‘Is it a big market?’
‘It’s called Belen market, and yes, it is huge. We can drive down the road a bit further and then we can walk. It isn’t far from here.’
They parked and walked for ten minutes. Nick heard and smelled the place before he saw it. Then they were walking through alleys with stalls on both sides selling everything and anything. Chickens, fish, fruit, clothes, to
bacco, spices, bottles of local booze. Music blared out and there were buzzards perched on the roofs of some stalls, while others picked at the rubbish in the lanes. The place was big and colourful and packed with people. Isabella led the way, she seemed to know where she was going. It still took the best part of an hour to find Don Gilberto’s stall.
He was there with another younger man. They sat on stools and on the counter in front of them there were ready-rolled ceremonial tobacco cigarettes, jars of powder and ground up bark, and bottles filled with many-coloured liquids. The shaman saw them coming and stood up. He stood face to face with Nick and gazed hard at him with his all-seeing eyes. Then the lines on his face creased as he smiled and put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. He said something, and Nick turned to Isabella for a translation.
‘He says he knew you would get out. He asked your spirit animals to protect you.’
‘Didn’t I imagine them?’ Nick grinned. ‘Thank him, anyway. Ask him why he didn’t go to the police.’
Isabella posed the question, and got an answer. ‘He doesn’t go to the police for anything. If they want him, they can come to him.’
‘Ask him if he will make a statement on my behalf at the police station.’
After a long dialogue with Isabella, it looked as though Don Gilberto had agreed. He spoke to his associate on the stall, who nodded.
‘He’s coming with us,’ said Isabella.
They made their way back, and in this enclosed space the heat and humidity of the day was oppressive. It was almost noon now and there were dark clouds gathering above. It looked like a short, sharp deluge of rain was heading their way. Away from the market, the air was fresher, but still dense. When they finally got back to the car, Nick was wiping the sweat from his brow. Suddenly, he stopped.
‘What is it?’ said Isabella, as she opened the driver’s door.
Nick looked around. Then he saw what he’d sensed. A man stepped out of a little alleyway across the road. He had a gun aimed at them.
‘Two birds with one stone,’ he said, smiling. It was Conrad.
He made them get in the car. Nick in the driver’s seat and Don Gilberto on the passenger side. Conrad sat in the back with Isabella.
‘Now, do just what I tell you. Try anything, and I shoot the girl first.’
They drove out of Iquitos on the only road to anywhere, which was a place called Nauta, two hours away. The rain was coming down hard now and the windscreen wipers were struggling to keep up with it. After half an hour the traffic had thinned out and the rain was easing off. Nick checked the mirror. He could see Isabella looking straight ahead, her face set in stone. She looked more angry than scared and he hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Don Gilberto was impossible to read, he had his eyes closed and his hands clasped together in his lap. Nick felt a mixture of fear and determination. Conrad was holding all the cards. Even if Nick could distract him and disarm him, someone would get shot in the process. Perhaps talking would help.
‘How did you find us?’
‘Jason called me. He’s got a satellite phone. I just went to the airport and waited for you to show up.’
‘Where’s the cocaine?’
Conrad laughed. ‘The cocaine is a figment of your imagination, Mr Severance. Now shut up and keep driving.’
Isabella whispered something under her breath. It sounded like a curse.
‘Who are you, by the way?’ asked Conrad.
‘I’m a lawyer. I look forward to putting you in jail. A high security Peruvian jail. You’ll like it there.’
‘Not going to happen. You’ll never get me to trial. Now you be quiet, too.’
They drove another hour in silence. Nick could see a river on his left. Far too small to be the Amazon, but big enough as rivers go.
Conrad looked out the back window. ‘OK, slow down now and then pull over.’
Nick pulled into the side of the road. At this moment there was no other traffic in sight.
‘Everybody out,’ ordered Conrad. ‘Nice and easy, please.’
They got out, slowly. Conrad waved the gun. ‘Into the jungle, people. We’re going to the river. Ms Lawyer, you go first. Don Gilberto follows and Mr Severance next.’
They filed into the trees as directed. Conrad kept a professional distance, there was no way Nick could turn and get to him before he could pull the trigger. They went slowly, weaving a path between the trees and the hanging vines. Don Gilberto began to sing, softly.
‘Shut up, old man,’ said Conrad. It had no effect. ‘Tell him to shut up, Ms Lawyer.’
‘Leave him alone, hijo de puta,’ she replied. ‘You’re going to kill him aren’t you? Let him sing.’
‘The dying man’s last wish,’ said Conrad. ‘Fine.’
He enjoys this too much, thought Nick. Perhaps he’ll get careless. They kept walking, but there were no signs of carelessness. Nick could see glimpses of the river now. He could only assume that the journey would end there, with their dead bodies submerged in it. Suddenly Don Gilberto stopped. Nick almost banged into him. Isabella walked on for a few steps and turned around.
‘What the fuck is he doing?’ demanded Conrad.
Don Gilberto said something to Isabella. ‘He needs to pee,’ she said.
‘If I put a bullet in him, it will solve that problem,’ said Conrad. ‘Translate that for me.’
It had no effect. Don Gilberto simply looked at Conrad and waited.
Conrad relented. ‘Alright. If you must.’
The shaman walked over to a nearby tree. He had his back to the group. He began singing again.
‘Tell him that’s far enough,’ said Conrad. Don Gilberto seemed to understand. He relieved himself against the tree and when he’d zipped himself up again, he squatted down for a moment. The song stopped. He stood up.
Then everything went very still. The birds stopped, the insects stopped. As if the forest was collectively holding its breath. Just for a second. And in that second, the shaman turned around and threw something at Conrad. He saw it coming and when he saw what it was he forgot about the gun in his hand. He dropped it and put his hands up to protect his face. Four feet of swirling snake hit his forearms with its jaws wide open and sank its fangs into him. Conrad screamed. He tore the snake off and hurled it away. Then he sank to his knees, looking for the gun. But it had gone. Nick had scooped it up and was pointing it at him.
It seemed everyone but Don Gilberto was reeling with the shock of what had just happened. Isabella crossed herself. Nick wasn’t sure whether to point the gun at Conrad or try to shoot the snake, which by now had slithered away out of range.
‘What was that?’ he rasped.
‘Fer-de-lance,’ said Isabella. ‘It’s a poisonous viper.’
‘How poisonous?’
‘Very. If he doesn’t get medical treatment in the next hour or two, he will die.’
Already, Conrad looked dazed. Nick could quite happily put him out of his misery, but that wasn’t smart. If he lived, he might have information that would help solve the puzzle of both Julian and Ray’s murders. It was about more than cocaine. He looked at Don Gilberto. The shaman was unruffled. Isabella was semi-shocked, but coherent.
‘Let’s try and get him to hospital. Isabella, you’ll have to help me. Give Don Gilberto the gun and tell him not to throw any more snakes at anyone. Come on, let’s get back to the road.’
They dragged Conrad to his feet. Nick supported him on one side and Isabella took up a position on the other. With his arms across their shoulders, they began the trek back to the car. Conrad’s breath was coming in short bursts and he seemed to have lost all strength. He buckled at the knees.
‘Breathe slowly,’ said Isabella. ‘It will slow down the venom.’
Conrad said nothing. His face contorted with pain every time they stumbled, which was often. His eyes were watering. He seemed to be concentrating all his efforts on simply putting one foot in front of the other. He groaned
occasionally.
It took them twenty minutes to get back to the car. This time Isabella drove, with Nick in the front and the other two men in the back. Conrad had been bitten on the left forearm and when Don Gilberto undid his shirt sleeve and rolled it up, the puncture wound was angry and bleeding. Don Gilberto cut away the sleeve with a pocket knife and wrapped it around the wound, which wasn’t clotting. Already, Conrad’s arm had swollen, all the way from the wrist to the shoulder. He sat with his eyes closed and made no effort to resist. He seemed almost paralysed.
He bled all the way to the hospital. When they got there and dragged him into reception there were dozens of people seated along the walls, waiting to be seen. The woman on the front desk took one look at Conrad and started asking questions. Once she knew what had happened, she picked up the phone and spoke at a furious pace with someone. Five minutes later Conrad was on a stretcher and being wheeled away, with a doctor in attendance.
‘Will he recover?’ said Nick to Isabella, who had helped get him inside.
‘Do you care?’ She stood there tired and dishevelled, examining the bloodstains on her blouse. ‘He was going to kill us.’
He looked at his own shirt, which had even more blood on it. ‘I need to talk to him.’
Isabella smoothed back her hair, trying to restore some semblance of normality to her appearance. ‘They know how to treat snake bites here. They have anti-venom and antibiotics. He has a good chance.’
Isabella spoke to the receptionist for a minute and then they returned to the car. Nick had taken Conrad’s wallet and phone and the gun was in the glove box. Don Gilberto hadn’t moved from the back seat since their arrival at the hospital, and as Isabella started the engine they exchanged a few words.
‘He thinks he may lose his arm,’ said Isabella, reversing out of the parking space. ‘The venom kills the tissue.’
Nick said nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to feel any sympathy for a man who had been prepared to kill him on two occasions, now. Whatever happens, he thought, Conrad wasn’t going anywhere in the next few days. If he recovered, there’d be time for questions.