Brazil

by Ross Kemp

  As they raced through the Zona Sul back towards Santa Marta, Luiz had to channel every ounce of concentration into keeping the Chevrolet on the road, the fragile suspension shuddering as they bounced over bumps and potholes. He swerved in and out of traffic, forcing other drivers to jam on their brakes to avoid a collision, all the while the van looming on their tail like a nightmare. Hunched low in their seats, the rest of the gang continued to fire off shots at their pursuers, the reports so loud and continuous that Luiz could barely hear himself think. But even though the front of the Quarto Comando’s van was now riddled with bullet holes, the driver never let up for a second.

  The Chevrolet’s engine growled in protest as the road began to climb and Luiz realized that they were on the familiar approach back to Santa Marta.

  ‘We’re going to make it!’ Livio cried out.

  At the sight of the car careering up the hill, the lookouts near the boca began shouting into their radio phones. All around them kites were dropping from the sky like stones. As the boca loomed into view, Luiz offered up a silent prayer that the lookouts had recognized the car and he wasn’t driving them straight into another hail of bullets. He could see the guards scrambling into firing positions. As the car drew into range, Luiz hardly dared breathe.

  The guards held their fire, waiting until the black van was in sight before unleashing a storm of bullets over the top of Luiz’s car at their pursuers. There was a loud squeal of brakes.

  ‘They’re backing off!’ Stripe called out jubilantly.

  Before Luiz could celebrate, there was a loud pop and one of the front tyres blew out. Struggling to control the Chevrolet as it careered into a spin up the narrowing road, the last thing he saw was the guards scattering out of the way like ninepins and then the car ploughed straight into the boca.

  15. Inquests

  Luiz groggily raised his head. The impact of the crash had sent him flying forward into the steering wheel and he could feel a trickle of blood running down the side of his face. Through the shattered windscreen, Luiz could see the wall of the boca, dominated by a giant Comando Negro tag. As a cloud of dust and smoke enveloped him, he coughed. The smell of oil and burnt rubber was everywhere.

  For a while nobody in the car spoke and then, from the back seat, came the sound of chuckling laughter.

  ‘No way, man!’ whooped Joker. ‘That was insane!’

  He clapped his hands together with glee and clambered monkey-like out of the car. The boca guards had formed a cautious semicircle around the vehicle, peering into the wreckage. When Angel appeared unharmed, there was an audible murmur of relief.

  Luiz was the last to get out. His head pounding, he found Livio mournfully inspecting the damage. The front of the car had buckled on impact, the bonnet flying upwards to expose the mangled innards of engine parts. The MC looked inconsolable.

  ‘What’s up? You don’t really care about this shitheap, do you?’

  ‘I don’t,’ Livio lamented, ‘but my cousin will. It’s his car.’

  Luiz burst out laughing and hugged the MC.

  ‘Tell him we’ll buy him a new one,’ Joker shouted, pretending to count out the loose change in his pocket. ‘I got more than enough here.’

  As the crowd around them laughed and began patting him on the back, Luiz couldn’t deny the thrill of the adrenalin surging through his veins. They had come very close to dying, but everyone had made it back alive – and it had been almost entirely down to him.

  ‘Quarto Comando can kiss my ass!’

  Joker bent over and dropped his shorts, exposing his backside down the hill, towards where the black van had long since retreated. ‘You see that, you pussies?’

  The gang members around him burst out laughing, adding their taunts and catcalls to the chorus. Someone up on the roof fired a couple of shots into the air, while the boys began bouncing up and down on their toes, chanting and throwing their arms around one another’s shoulders. Even Stripe struggled to hold back a grin.

  One person wasn’t laughing.

  ‘Pull up your shorts and let’s go. We’ve got things to discuss.’

  Angel said it quietly, but his words carried over the boca. Immediately the chanting petered out. Joker hastily hitched up his shorts and followed his brother as he strode away into Santa Marta.

  ‘So… what the hell happened back there?’

  The five of them had congregated in Angel’s front room: Luiz, Livio, Stripe, Joker and the dono himself. Having never been inside the dono’s house before, Luiz was surprised to find that it wasn’t much bigger than the place Livio was letting him sleep in. Noticing his appraisal of the surroundings, the MC nudged Luiz in the ribs.

  ‘Ain’t no fancy hotels in this favela, my friend,’ he whispered. ‘And with the amount of girlfriends Angel’s got, he needs to earn every cent.’

  As Joker fetched beers from the fridge, Livio immediately sat down to roll a joint. Stripe produced a large packet of cocaine from one of his pockets and began chopping up lines on a tray on his knees, while Angel disappeared into the bedroom. It wasn’t long before Luiz heard raised voices, then a statuesque black woman in a tiny white skirt and bra top stalked past them and out of the house without a word. The flimsy bedroom wall shook as something was hurled against it, the sound of breaking glass carrying through to the front room, and then Angel reappeared, muttering under his breath and demanding a joint from Livio.

  Now the air was thick with the smell of marijuana – and Angel’s pregnant question.

  ‘Some bastard set us up,’ Livio said finally, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. ‘Those guys were waiting for us. They had come prepared, man.’

  ‘What about the guy who was buying the blow from us?’ asked Joker. ‘You think he had anything to do with it?’

  Angel shook his head and took a sip from his beer. ‘That guy didn’t have the balls for anything like that. Anyway, he came with a reference from the Doctor. You think he set us up?’

  ‘I don’t know, Angel. You’re the only guy who’s met him,’ said Livio.

  The dono gave him a hard stare. ‘The only thing you need to know is that the Doctor is the only reason the Comando Negro exists. You’re more likely to sell us out than he is.’

  ‘Hey – I’m no rat!’ the MC protested.

  Stripe loudly snorted a line of cocaine, throwing his head back as the drug coursed through his system.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re wasting all this time bitching,’ he said matter-of-factly, pinching his nostrils with his fingers. ‘It’s obvious there’s a rat and it’s obvious who he is.’

  ‘Really?’ said Angel. ‘Who?’

  ‘It’s Luiz.’

  Luiz had been expecting this from the start. Of course Stripe was going to blame him. He schooled his expression to one of amused bafflement.

  ‘Are you crazy, Stripe?’ Joker asked, tapping the side of his head with a finger. ‘Didn’t you see Luiz driving the car?’

  ‘Look, it’s simple,’ Stripe maintained. ‘This has never happened to us before. There’s only one guy we don’t know. It has to be Luiz.’

  ‘Hey!’ Livio cut in. ‘Luiz is Comando Negro! We know him!’

  ‘We don’t know shit about him,’ Stripe retorted, pointing a finger at Luiz. ‘I don’t know where he’s from or who his family is. The only thing I know is that he can drive and Livio thinks the sun shines out of his ass.’

  Stripe was getting dangerously close to the truth here. Luiz kept his mouth shut, his attention fixed on the one man who hadn’t said anything. Angel took a thoughtful swig from his beer bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  ‘If Luiz hadn’t warned us in the hotel, we’d have walked out of that room into a firing squad. And then he managed to drive that shitheap all the way back to Santa Marta. I know what I need to know about him. He isn’t a rat.’

  It was a struggle for Luiz to keep the relief from flickering across his face. Stripe began to protest.

  ‘OK, so h
e warned us in the hotel and he drove us home. But whenever there’s shooting to be done, real soldado work, I don’t see him picking up a gun.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you scared to pull the trigger or afraid you’d hit one of your gang buddies?’

  ‘Enough!’ roared Angel.

  His arm whipped out like a striking cobra, flipping Stripe’s tray into his face. As a spray of cocaine went up in the air, Angel smashed his bottle over Stripe’s blond head. Stripe crumpled to the floor, with the dono on him in an instant. From nowhere a small gun had appeared in his left hand, which he jammed underneath Stripe’s chin. With his right hand, Angel reached down and pulled out a handful of cocaine from the opened packet, rubbing the powder in the boy’s face.

  ‘I’m tired of your shit!’ he bellowed. ‘You hear me? You stick so much cocaine up your nose everyone’s your enemy. Dog, Luiz… Who’s next, tough guy? You going to come after me? Hey?’

  Stripe thrashed and writhed on the floor, his face smeared with a mixture of blood and cocaine. The rest of the Comando Negro looked on in shocked silence.

  ‘Would you shoot me, Angel?’ Stripe said, his voice choked.

  ‘In a heartbeat,’ the dono replied softly.

  For a few seconds the room held its breath. Then Angel slowly removed his gun from underneath Stripe’s chin, standing up and moving back into his chair. Stripe staggered to his feet, tears in his eyes. He turned on Luiz.

  ‘You don’t fool me,’ he said. ‘You’re a rat and I’m going to prove it.’

  Clutching his bleeding head, Stripe stumbled out through the door and began running down the street. As the rest of the gang watched him go, Livio blew out his cheeks and clapped Luiz on the back.

  ‘Don’t take it personally, man. Stripe gets wired when he does too much cocaine. He’ll calm down.’

  ‘He’d better do,’ Angel said in a deathly quiet voice, ‘or I’m going to blow him away.’

  It was two o’clock in the morning and Luiz was having trouble falling asleep. His mind was still racing from the events of the day and the muggy atmosphere wasn’t helping him relax. A sour odour of urine hung in the air, and every now and again he heard the squeaking and scrabbling of a rat as it scampered across the floor. The couple in the shack next door were having a violent argument, their shouts echoing through the thin walls.

  Already tense, Luiz jumped with surprise as his phone started to vibrate. It was Ricardo’s Pizzeria. They were calling him. He pressed the ‘Answer’ button.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Luiz?’ Richard Madison’s voice was low and urgent. ‘Is it safe to talk?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m alone.’

  ‘The gunfight at the hotel was all over the news. Are you all right? What the hell happened?’

  ‘We got set up. The Doctor had organized a drug deal, but someone told the Quarto Comando. It was a miracle we made it back to Santa Marta.’

  ‘Did you get hurt?’

  ‘No – I’m OK. But I did see a guy get shot at the hotel,’ Luiz said softly. ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s in hospital. He should pull through. Another old lady had a heart attack and she’s in intensive care. It’s amazing that there weren’t more casualties. But one of the Quarto Comando was killed in the fighting.’

  Luiz thought back to the hotel poolside, and the cry of pain and the smear of blood in the doorway. He had witnessed someone getting killed. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

  ‘Councillor Jorge Cruz has been all over the media, calling on the police to launch a raid into Santa Marta. Given the amount of attention being paid to the Comando Negro, it’s becoming difficult for us to stay invisible. Darius is talking about calling a halt to the operation.’

  ‘What? He can’t! Not after all this!’

  ‘I know. Valerie and I are trying to talk him round. I’ll let you know as soon as I know for definite. And one more thing.’

  ‘What?’

  There was a pause at the end of the line. ‘You keep saying “we”. “We” got set up. “We” made it back. I know you’re trying to fit in, but remember who these guys are, Luiz. They’re not your friends.’

  ‘I know.’

  But even as he paced around the threadbare room trying to reassure Madison, with rain beginning to fall on the dusty favela roads outside, it felt to Luiz like he was speaking to someone very far away, from another world.

  16. Party Time

  Early the next afternoon, Luiz made his way through Santa Marta, heading towards Livio’s house. If he didn’t yet feel entirely at ease within the favela, at least he had lost the dreadful fear of discovery that had haunted his every step during the first few days. Here and there he even recognized a familiar face – received a nod of recognition back from the Comando Negro members milling about on the favela street corners.

  After the phone call from Madison, Luiz was more concerned about Trojan Industries. Perhaps he should have felt relieved at the thought that Jordan might call the whole thing off, but then there was no telling what would happen to Ana. Luiz didn’t trust Trojan enough to think that they’d help free her out of the goodness of their hearts. Her best hope was that Luiz could somehow successfully complete his mission.

  Wrapped up in his thoughts, Luiz didn’t see the little boy shuffling along the shady part of the street until the last minute.

  ‘Hey, Dog!’ he called out. ‘Wait up!’

  The boy glanced up fearfully at the sound of his name. Even though a few days had passed since the football match, Dog still bore the scars of Stripe’s assault: his nose was bent out of shape and the flesh around his right eye had swollen and turned an ugly purple.

  Having given him a friendly wave, Luiz was surprised to see Dog break into a scuttling run down the nearest side alley. Briefly he thought about going after him, then decided against it. All of the Comando Negro knew Santa Marta like the back of their hand and Luiz wasn’t going to risk getting lost in the maze. Anyway, after what had happened to Dog, it was hard to blame the boy for wanting to avoid other gang members.

  Arriving at the MC’s shack, Luiz was surprised to find that he was interrupting a family meal. Livio was trying to coax a little girl into eating another spoonful of food, while his wife rocked a crying baby in her arms, whispering gentle hushes into its ears. The MC gestured for Luiz to come in, a smile wreathed across his face.

  ‘Luiz! Come in, man. Meet my wife, Gabriela.’

  Livio’s wife was probably the same age as Luiz – a small, dark teenager with serious eyes. As Luiz greeted her, Gabriela smiled politely back, but there was no warmth in it. She warily ushered the little girl into the adjoining bedroom and carried the baby in with her, closing the door behind them.

  Livio noticed Luiz’s concerned expression. ‘Don’t worry about Gabriela. The stuff with the Quarto Comando’s got her a bit jumpy, that’s all.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  The MC shook his head. ‘Don’t you get it, man? They tried to kill Angel! He’s not just going to sit there and take it! And we still got problems with the Compadres too. There’s going to be some serious shit going down in the next few days, believe me.’

  ‘You going to be involved?’

  Livio shrugged. ‘I’m Comando Negro, aren’t I?’

  ‘I’m guessing Gabriela wishes you weren’t.’

  ‘She’s living in a dreamworld,’ the MC shot back, getting up from the table. ‘This is real, all this right here.’ Suddenly animated, Livio strode over to the wall of his shack and scratched a fingernail across it. A crumbly powder of brickwork broke off, which he rubbed between his fingers. ‘The walls in this place are falling down, Luiz! All the houses in Santa Marta are like this: mine, Stripe’s, Angel’s… It doesn’t matter who you are in the favela, this is the best you get. You don’t think I want better for my family?’

  The MC collapsed into a chair and cracked open a bottle of Skol. He frowned.

  ‘You ever see those houses on the other side of town? The big ones with
all the gates and the guards?’

  Luiz nodded. Rio’s wealthy inhabitants tended to hide as far away from the favelas as possible, in gated compounds protected by round-the-clock security. Livio sighed.

  ‘That’s where I want to live, my friend. Kick back in a swimming pool all day, not having to worry about money or any of that shit. I barely got enough to keep my kids in clothes! You ever hear that Councillor Cruz on the TV calling us animals? You think his walls are falling down? A greedy politician like him, filling his pockets whenever he can? I grew up with nothing. I’m going to die with nothing. No one’s going to help me. I’ve got to help myself. If that means I’ve got to pull the trigger, then so be it.’

  Livio broke off to take a moody swig from his bottle. Surprised by the passion of his outburst, Luiz was unsure what to say. After a pregnant silence, the MC snorted to himself and waved a dismissive hand.

  ‘Ignore me. I get carried away sometimes.’ A grin stole over Livio’s face. ‘Enough speeches, man. Let’s go have some fun.’

  The pickup truck hurtled through the favela, homing in on the thundering bassline that was booming out over Santa Marta in a series of sonic explosions. Sitting in the back of the vehicle, Luiz laughed as the truck bounced wildly over a pothole, sending him tumbling to the floor. Beside him, Livio pointed and laughed.

  ‘Bet you wish you were driving now, asshole!’ he crowed.

  Luiz’s cheeks were flushed and his head was giddy from the beer he had drunk. Livio had made it clear that he expected Luiz to keep him company through the afternoon – refusing would only have made him stand out. As the hours had passed and the rest of the Comando Negro command had joined them, for the first time since returning to Santa Marta Luiz’s mission had slipped from his mind. Now they were heading for a baile-funk party over on the far side of the favela, which Livio had promised would be filled with popozudas – pretty girls with curvy asses. It was Joker peering out into the darkness behind the wheel of the truck, while his elder brother sat alongside him.