Brazil

by Ross Kemp

  ‘Wait!’ Luiz cried out.

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and pointed his gun at Angel, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were trembling.

  ‘Don’t shoot him.’

  ‘Luiz?’ A look of astonishment crossed the dono’s face. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘Getting involved. Put your gun down.’

  ‘Or what?’ Angel retorted, a challenge in his voice. ‘You’ll shoot me?’

  ‘I don’t want to. Part of me wants you to kill Fernandes. But I’ve seen enough dead bodies as it is and I don’t want to see another one. Fernandes should go to jail, where he belongs.’

  ‘Who cares about jail?’ the dono yelled. ‘Rafael’s dead!’

  ‘Let this one go, Angel. Please.’

  Distracted, Angel momentarily lowered his shotgun. Fernandes broke free and pulled something from his pocket. Metal gleamed in the sunlight. A blade. Fernandes spun round and drove the dagger deep into Angel’s chest. The dono staggered backwards, crashing into the mirror, his hands clutching feebly at the hilt of the dagger. Angel’s eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped to the ground.

  Luiz’s eyes met the Doctor’s. Then, dropping to one knee, he took aim and fired. The bullet clipped Ivan Fernandes in the right shoulder and the man fell to the floor, screaming in agony.

  Luiz stayed kneeling down, all of a sudden feeling strangely detached. His arms tingled from the recoil of the weapon and the smell of cordite hung heavy in the air. Slowly straightening up, he walked across the room and levelled the gun at the Doctor.

  ‘Make one move,’ Luiz said softly, ‘and I’ll kill you. I swear.’

  Fernandes was clutching his shoulder, making high-pitched whimpering sounds. It was just the two of them now. Luiz could put a bullet in his skull and no one would ever know about it. This drug-dealing murderer would be gone. He brought up his left hand and took aim.

  ‘Luiz?’

  Luiz started. Glancing up, he saw Juan Oliveira standing in the doorway. The policeman looked out of breath.

  ‘Juan?’ said Luiz, his voice trembling. ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘Traced your mobile phone call. I’m here now. It’s OK.’

  ‘It’s not OK!’ Luiz shot back. ‘Can’t you see?’ He pointed at Angel. ‘He’s dead and it’s my fault. Everyone’s dead – apart from Fernandes. He can’t get away with it!’

  ‘He won’t get away with it,’ Oliveira said. ‘He’ll go to prison. I promise. You need to put the gun down, Luiz.’

  The policeman walked slowly towards him, maintaining eye contact all the while. Folding his hands over Luiz’s gun, he gently removed it from his grasp. As they stared at one another, Fernandes began sobbing with relief at their feet.

  Luiz felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Dimly, he was aware that Oliveira had put an arm around his shoulders.

  ‘It’s all right, son. Come on.’

  A wailing police siren had struck up in the distance. In a daze, Luiz trudged out of the house and into the bright sunshine, leaving Oliveira standing over the shaking figure of the Doctor and the bloodied corpse of the leader of the Comando Negro.

  27. Endgame

  Early the next morning, a cable car climbed up through the air above Rio, heading towards the summit of Sugar-loaf Mountain. On a bright, clear day the whole of Rio would have been visible through the windows, but now the city was smothered beneath a thick blanket of early-morning mist. Rain drummed impatiently on the cable car roof.

  Given the weather, it was little surprise that the cable car was quiet, most of the tourists preferring to wait for the mist to clear. Only a group of Germans had braved the journey in the hope of a sudden burst of sunshine. They stood at the far end of the car, keeping a wary distance from the only other occupant: a teenage boy staring out into the whiteness, his face covered in cuts and bruises. To the Germans – who had been warned about the young gang members from the favelas – he looked like trouble.

  Lost in his own thoughts, Luiz was barely aware that anyone was looking at him. The turmoil of the previous few days was starting to catch up with him. He was aware that he was on the verge of crashing with exhaustion. Not yet, though. There was still one more thing he had to do.

  He had spent the night at Juan Oliveira’s, the policeman patching up his wounds as best he could. They sat in front of the TV, watching news reports showing the aftermath of the carnage at Fernandes’s house. The reporter hailed the arrest of the Doctor as a triumph for the intelligence services and the police. There was no mention of Trojan Industries or Luiz. The camera suddenly cut to an interview with Jorge Cruz, who beamed with delight as he praised the efforts of the police. Luiz snorted dismissively and changed the channel.

  Later that evening, Trojan Industries called Oliveira to pass on the word that Ana had been released and told Luiz to meet them on top of Sugarloaf Mountain at nine o’clock the next morning. Why on earth they had decided to meet in such an out-of-the-way place, Luiz couldn’t begin to understand. Oliveira had offered to come with him, but the next morning a call from his bosses had sent him hurrying to the station instead. They said goodbye quickly, respect on both sides. No matter what Luiz thought about some of the cops who worked in Rio, Oliveira was a good man.

  Now, as the cable car continued to scale up the mountain, rocking slightly in the breeze, Luiz was acutely aware that he was meeting Trojan alone. For reasons he couldn’t entirely put his finger on, that made him apprehensive. Ahead of him the dark silhouette of the cable-car station loomed out of the mist. The trajectory of their ascent flattened and then they came to a juddering standstill at the top of the mountain.

  As the doors opened, Luiz zipped up his jacket and stepped out into the fresh air. Though the drizzle had abated, the view was still obscured by a swirling white mass. From memory Luiz knew that the summit of Sugarloaf was little more than a rocky outcrop. There was nothing up here save for a lone drinks stand, which rewarded the more adventurous types who had ascended on foot.

  Looking around him, Luiz caught sight of a tall figure standing by the guardrail, peering out hopefully into the mist. It was Darius Jordan. The head of Trojan was dressed in a long grey overcoat and carried a briefcase in one hand. Just like a normal businessman. Seeing Jordan calmly standing there, Luiz couldn’t help but feel resentment wash over him for everything that he had been forced to go through.

  At the sound of Luiz’s footsteps, the American turned round and smiled. ‘Luiz! You got here all right?’

  ‘I guess,’ muttered Luiz. ‘Could we not have done this downtown?’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Jordan agreed. ‘Believe it or not, I’ve spent the best part of two weeks stuck inside that warehouse and I just wanted to see Rio before I left.’ He gestured wryly at the fog. ‘I thought it was going to be a nice day.’

  Behind them, the Germans had bustled over to the opposite side of the summit, leaving Luiz and Jordan entirely alone.

  ‘It might still be a nice day,’ said Luiz warily. ‘But it’s pretty lonely up here right now.’

  Jordan frowned. ‘What do you mean? Why do you think I told you to meet me here?’

  As Luiz shifted his stance, muscles tensing in case he had to run or fight, realization dawned on Jordan’s face. ‘Do you think I asked you here so I could kill you?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Luiz replied defensively. ‘After all, you don’t need me any more. Maybe you want to make sure I don’t talk to anybody.’

  The American barked with laughter. ‘Jesus, Luiz, you don’t think much of us, do you? We’re not callous murderers – we’re good guys trying to stop some very bad people. I’d love it if we could play by the rules, but it doesn’t work like that. The world’s not black and white. After all you’ve seen, surely you can understand that?’

  Luiz shrugged.

  ‘Don’t you know how grateful we are?’ Jordan asked. ‘Thanks to you, Trojan’s first mission has been classed as a success. We’re free to continue our
operations. We’re flying out of Rio this morning.’

  ‘Oh? Where are you going?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. Could be anywhere. The Comando Negro isn’t the only gang in the world. This is a global problem, my friend.’

  ‘So you’re going to go to another country and you’ll make someone else do what I did?’ There was a challenge in Luiz’s voice.

  Jordan sighed. ‘We didn’t make you do anything. We didn’t put Ana in jail. You could have walked out of my office, phoned your parents and taken it from there. I told you at the time, Luiz – there’s always a choice. Maybe, in a while, you’ll see that.’ The American held out his hand. ‘Shall we shake hands before we go?’

  Luiz thought back over everything that had happened to him in the past fortnight: his sister’s arrest, the fights with the Compadres and Quarto Comando, Joker’s death, Angel’s death, the look in Livio’s eyes when he realized that he had been betrayed…

  ‘Go screw yourself,’ said Luiz.

  Jordan nodded slowly and withdrew his hand. ‘I had hoped you might see it differently. A lot of good things came out of this. A violent gang has been broken up, a massive drug-smuggling network has been exposed. The Doctor will spend the rest of his life in prison. And, perhaps most importantly…’

  He turned and pointed over to the drinks stand. Through the gloom, Luiz could see three figures: two adults and a smaller figure. He recognized the two adults – Richard Madison, who gave him a cheery wave, and Valerie Singer, who took an expressionless drag on her cigarette, and between them –

  ‘Luiz!’ cried Ana Alves.

  His sister came tearing towards him and threw her arms around him, sobbing violently. Ana’s clothes were bedraggled and grimy, and she was shaking, but she was alive. Luiz hugged her numbly, barely able to believe that she was actually standing there with him.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he said. ‘You’re not hurt?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Just happy to be out of jail. I never want to go back there again.’

  As he hugged his sister, he saw Darius Jordan smile at him. After a pause, Luiz gave him a nod of recognition. Maybe it had been worth it, after all.

  Ana looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. ‘I’m so sorry, Luiz. I promise I’ll never do anything like that again.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Luiz said quietly. ‘You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘I couldn’t believe when those people came to get me out,’ Ana continued. ‘They’ve been really kind.’

  Glancing up, Luiz saw that Darius Jordan was no longer standing beside them, and Richard Madison and Valerie Singer had disappeared from the front of the drinks stand. The only people visible on Sugarloaf ’s summit were the German tourists, who talked excitedly among themselves as the first ray of sunshine cut through the mist. Trojan had vanished.

  ‘Where have they gone?’ Ana asked quietly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Luiz replied truthfully. ‘But I don’t think we’re going to see them again.’

  ‘They didn’t even tell me their names.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re like that. You’ve got more important things to worry about anyway. By my reckoning, we’ve only got a few hours to get back home before Mum and Dad arrive.’ Luiz grinned. ‘And you might want to have a shower before then. Did they not have soap in jail?’

  Ana punched him playfully on the arm. ‘Speak for yourself, sweaty! You smell like a goat! And what happened to your face? Have you been fighting again?’

  ‘It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you on the way down. Can we get off this mountain now?’

  Ana looked out wistfully over the guardrail at the brightening sky.

  ‘Look,’ she said, ‘the sun’s starting to come out. Now that we’re here, can we not wait for a few minutes – just until the mist clears?’

  Luiz sighed. ‘I guess so.’

  Brother and sister stood side by side, watching in silence as the fog burned away and the sun came out over their city.

  EPILOGUE: Home Time

  Luiz stood quietly outside the front of his house, leaning against the bumper of the mud-stained Jeep now parked in the driveway. His foster parents had returned home an hour ago, laden down with suitcases and presents. As he hugged his mum and dad, Luiz was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that it was over. His shoulders slumped and he had to fight back the tears springing into his eyes. He had survived.

  The family sat down together in the lounge, drinking coffee as Mariella and Francesco told them all about their trip to São Paulo. It seemed they had stumbled across a major story while they were away which would be the headline story in O Globo the next morning. When it came to their children’s turn, Luiz and Ana tried not to look each other in the eye as they glibly answered questions about school and the past couple of weeks. Luiz explained away his injuries by saying that he had fallen off the back of a scooter. His mum had given him a suspicious look, but appeared to accept it. Luiz didn’t like lying to his foster parents, but he couldn’t think of a way to tell them the truth. Where would he begin?

  Faced with a barrage of normality, it was a relief to escape outside, breathe in the cool evening air and listen to the chirping of birds perched in the trees.

  There was a noise in the driveway behind Luiz and Ana appeared at his side, slipping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. Refreshed by a shower and a change of clothes, the colour was already returning to his sister’s cheeks.

  ‘I can’t quite believe it,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Are we really going to get away with it? Mum and Dad aren’t going to find out?’

  ‘Looks like it.’ Luiz shot her a sideways glance. ‘Long as you can keep your big mouth shut.’

  Ana giggled. ‘I think you can trust me on that one. I still don’t know how you did it – how you got me out of jail. You’re not going to tell me, are you?’

  Luiz shook his head. ‘No. Maybe one day.’

  ‘Are you sure? I get the feeling it could make a really good story for the newspaper…’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

  Ana laughed. ‘Maybe a little bit. I think I’m going to take a break from journalism – just for a while, though.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too long,’ Luiz murmured, his eyes straying back up towards Santa Marta. ‘There’s a big story involving Councillor Cruz that people need to read about and I’ve got the scoop on it. I’ll tell you about that, if you want.’

  Ana paused, following Luiz’s gaze up towards the hillside favela. ‘You still want to go back there, don’t you? To Santa Marta?’

  Which was a question he had been asking himself. Luiz thought about it for a moment.

  ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘There’s nothing there for me any more.’

  Ana’s eyes went suddenly serious. ‘Are you OK?’

  Luiz took a last look at Santa Marta, then smiled at his sister.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go inside.’

  ‘If I were you, I’d stay out here,’ Ana said mischievously. ‘Mum’s sure you’ve been fighting again, and she’s not happy.’

  Luiz chuckled softly. ‘I’ve handled worse. Come on.’

  As he led his sister back inside their house, the sun dipping behind Rio’s hillsides, a blast of automatic fire echoed down from the favela through the encroaching darkness. Business as usual.