When the Singing Stops

by Di Morrissey

  ‘Well, it mightn’t stand up in court, but I understand what you’re saying. Even in the darkness I had the same impression.’

  Madi stared at her brother. ‘So he was murdered,’ she said. It was a statement not a question.

  ‘I see a horrible scenario emerging.’ Matthew paused. ‘He was asked up there out of the blue because he never socialises with those people. Then he sought me out to tell me he had suspicions about government deals that were being funded by some mysterious company called El Dorado. I think everything is tied up with whatever he was unearthing about El Dorado.’

  ‘What had he found out? Did he tell you? Because if he did . . . oh Matt, you could be in danger too!’ Madi was suddenly fearful.

  Her brother was quietly reassuring. ‘As I said, he didn’t have very much to tell me anyway. That’s what was bothering him, the fact he could find out so little. He was convinced El Dorado had influence in high places. Files about the company had disappeared. That sort of thing.’ A car horn sounded from the driveway. ‘That’s the company car. Look, I’ve got to get out to the mine. See you later.’

  Matthew hugged her and Kevin called out goodbye from the bottom of the stairs. Madi finished her breakfast then called Lester to pick her up in the taxi. She needed to buy sunblock and a backpack for the hike to the falls.

  Later sitting in a coffee shop with Lester she decided to pour out the whole story of the weekend, relieved to be able to share it.

  ‘Man, dis be a bad story,’ he shook his head. ‘Dat Ernesto St Kitt be a good man. I don’ think he bin ambitious, no grabbin’ for power, but he wanted to make change. Good change. Now dey try to dirty up his name.’

  Madi then told Lester she’d called him for another reason. ‘What’s the Blue Toucan?’

  ‘It be a coffee shop in Charlestown, nuttin special. It be all right for a cup of coffee or a beer. Why? Yo want to go dere?’

  ‘Yes.’ Madi told him what Matthew had said about the meeting Ernesto had set up for Wednesday mid-morning at the Blue Toucan.

  ‘So yo is gonna go, right? I knows it. I’m acomin’ too. But who we gonna meet, Madison?’

  ‘I don’t know, I figured I’d just see who drifted in and out. Can’t hurt.’

  Lester chewed his lip for a moment before answering. ‘Can’t do no harm. Just keep yo eyes walkin round de room. But what yo gonna do if dis person find yo? Mebbe he know yo be a friend of Ernesto.’

  ‘No one could possibly connect me with him. So, are you going to have coffee with me at the Blue Toucan?’

  Lester heaved his shoulders. ‘I gotta keep de eyes on yo, dat’s for sure.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, then Madison slapped the table. ‘Lordy Lordy, Lester . . .’ she cried mimicking him. ‘I didn’t tell you the good news!’

  ‘You got good news after dis weekend? What might dat be?’

  ‘I’m going to Kaieteur Falls . . . overland. Our friends are setting up a trip. I’m so excited, Lester.’

  He grinned at her light cheerful change of tone. ‘Dis be good for yo. So, yo get to see someting yo lady friend wrote about, huh? Now yo watch out for de jumbi,’ he kidded. ‘Be warned, nobody come back from Kaieteur de same. It changes people. It has a secret.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  He grinned. ‘If I tell yo, it no longer be a secret!’

  He drove her back home and Madi was surprised and pleased to see Connor’s car in the driveway. She waved to Lester and confirmed she’d see him tomorrow. As she hurried up the stairs he called out in a hearty voice, ‘We got to get yo outfitted proper. Yo can’t walk in de jungle without de gear!’

  Connor dropped the newspaper and rose from the lounge, reaching her in the middle of the room and embracing her in a solid hug. Then loosening his embrace he stared earnestly into her eyes. ‘Are you all right? I’m on my way out to the mine to meet the new GM. Matthew filled me in on the drug-taking at New Spirit and the conversation he had with Ernesto. It puts a whole different light on the man’s death. I’m sorry you got involved, Madi.’

  He leaned down and kissed her softly and at the tender touch of his lips, Madi found herself kissing him back ardently and strongly, suddenly overwhelmed with her physical need for support and caring. She drew away but stayed in his arms, holding on, unable to stem the tears as the pent-up shock, fears and sadness of the past weekend caught up with her.

  ‘Let it out, Madi, and let it go.’ Connor tightened his arms and held her till she felt better and gave a half smile as she pulled away wiping her cheeks.

  ‘Sorry, but that feels better. I guess I needed to do that. Thanks for being such a good shoulder.’

  Connor stared at the soft blondeness of Madi and for a minute he felt like he wanted to be more than just a shoulder to cry on. Madi always radiated such strength and independence and yet he knew that underneath this veneer she was still fragile and unsure of herself, her future. He also knew this was not the time to push himself forward too much. With a girl like Madi, patience was required. This thought surprised him. Patience meant time and who knew how much time they had together. He and Matthew had discussed the idea of encouraging Madi to go on to London but he knew she would never go until she had experienced the Kaieteur trip, and he was pleased.

  The Blue Toucan was a simple coffee shop marked by a large wooden cutout of a painted blue toucan swinging by its curved beak. Madi and Lester arrived a little before ten o’clock and ordered coffee. They passed the next half hour talking about the interior of Guyana. Lester told her at greater length the saga of Sir Walter Raleigh who made two trips to Guyana in the sixteenth century in search of his El Dorado to lay gold at the feet of his beloved Queen Elizabeth.

  ‘El Dorado, the fabled city of gold,’ said Madi.

  ‘El Dorado once be a person, not a city,’ Lester told her. ‘It means “de gilded one”. He be a prince who be covered in gold. A Spanish conquistador who be captured by Raleigh in South America told him de story. How de Indian tribe save dis explorer. Dey blindfold him and lead him in de jungle and up de rivers to dis place where de warrior king and all his men be covered in gold dust and all about dem be a gold city, El Dorado. Raleigh be under de spell. He never want to rest till he find dis place, but he don’t find it.’

  Madi was fascinated and added another story about Raleigh. ‘In history at school we learnt that Sir Walter spent years in the Tower of London and was eventually beheaded. He was most famous for throwing down his cape for the Queen to walk on, I think. Very gallant fellow, so the history books say.’

  She sipped her coffee, thinking how lucky she had been to find Lester so early in her stay. Quite remarkable really, she thought, that they were both so comfortable with each other, yet poles apart in profession and culture. She realised with a little surprise that he was the first black man she had ever spent time with, talked with, felt like a friend with, even though she paid him for the taxi’s waiting time.

  She plunged back into history, ‘I wonder if it was just greed that drove Raleigh on?’

  ‘Mebbe, but he treat de Indians right, not like de Spanish, and he be really rapt about de natural beauty of Guyana. Like yo lady Gwen he love de birds, de forest.’

  Lester’s expression suddenly changed and Madi glanced over her shoulder towards the front of the coffee shop. Antonio Destra stood in the doorway looking round the small room. Seeing them he came towards Madi, taking off his sunglasses and quickly turning on a big smile. ‘This is a surprise. Checking out the grass roots colour of the big city,’ he laughed.

  ‘You might say that,’ she said a little coolly. ‘Meet Lester Styles. A friend of mine. Lester, Antonio Destra.’

  ‘I be her adventuring adviser,’ said Lester with a grin as they shook hands.

  ‘Is that right? So I hear you’re really going to climb Kaieteur, eh? Few get to do it.’ He turned to Lester. ‘You going along too?’

  ‘Been dere, done dat,’ he replied with another big grin.

  ‘Umm,’ Anton
io gave Lester a penetrating look.

  ‘Are you meeting someone?’ asked Madi, catching Antonio’s eye and glancing round the near-deserted coffee shop.

  He paused for a fraction then shrugged. ‘No, had some business down this part of town and thought I’d have a snack. The place has quite a reputation for their black cake. Would you care to join me?’

  Madi debated for a split second then shook her head. ‘Many thanks, but no thanks. I have a meeting at the Pessaro. We were about to leave.’

  ‘More your style, Madison,’ smiled Antonio. ‘Well, all the best.’ He reached for her hand. ‘I hope you have recovered from the weekend’s unpleasantness,’ he said, lowering his voice.

  ‘As much as one can, Antonio.’

  Lester nodded to him, Madi paid the bill and they headed into the street. Once in the car and on their way Lester said one word, as if he had read her mind. ‘Coincidence?’

  ‘Perhaps. Matthew didn’t broadcast the info he got from Ernesto about the meeting.’

  ‘Mebbe if he found out some way, he having a look to see who turn up to meet Ernesto, just like yo, Madison. Maybe he tink it yo. Maybe it be him. Strange he show up.’

  ‘Antonio seems to have a habit of doing that, showing up. Let’s go, Lester. I really do have an appointment at the Pessaro.’

  Sasha St Herve settled Madi by the swimming pool at an umbrella-shaded table. The trainee waiter was nervous as he set out coffee for the manager, tea for his guest. Madi gave him a warm smile as he backed away. ‘Who trains your staff?’

  ‘We have two staff recruitment and training people. Those who show a bit of style and competence we send over to our sister hotel in Barbados for a bit of a polish and experience in dealing with picky travellers.’

  ‘Guests here aren’t so fussy?’ grinned Madi.

  ‘Well, we try our best but circumstances being what they are . . . If guests expect the same service, food, cooking and obsequiousness of a top European hotel, they will be disappointed. Guyana is a different experience . . . and frankly that is what I wanted to talk to you about.’

  ‘Marketing a unique experience?’

  The suavely dressed manager leaned back and gave a soft laugh. ‘Spot on, Madison. Actually, that’s exactly what I’m proposing. I have a concept—well, it’s not totally my idea.

  And it’s further down the track than a concept because we already have the important component, financial backing.’

  ‘So who are you trying to sell the concept to if you already have the finance? Surely not the public at this stage.’ Madi sipped her tea and looked at him. ‘Who are you pitching to and what would I be selling if I take up your offer?’

  Sasha also paused before answering. ‘You’re smart and obviously know this business. Very well . . . naturally what I tell you is in confidence.’

  ‘Of course.’ Madi was intrigued now as this sophisticated man was not the sort to trifle with insignificant details. He might only be the general manager of a four-star hotel in a Third World country but she could recognise the ambitions of a man who was aiming high in this competitive field.

  ‘You haven’t been to the mountains, the interior yet?’

  ‘I’m about to go on a trip to Kaieteur Falls.’

  The hotel manager was obviously delighted to hear this. ‘Good. That will give you some idea of why this concept is so stunning.’ He drew a breath. ‘What we are proposing is a casino and wildlife lodge that is so spectacular it will rival the top theme complexes in the world. It’s to be called Amazonia and it will give clients a one-off experience of the jungle, the animals, the rainforest all within the comfort and safety of a five-star hotel. High rollers will be flown in mainly to gamble, but there’ll be golf, Whitewater rafting, rainforest walks, flora and fauna parks, fishing and hunting. And a touch of local culture. We’ll set up a kind of theme village where tourists can see how the Amerindians live and buy souvenirs and artefacts. But the key is the gambling. That’s what the guests will mainly be there for. The other attractions are a bonus. It will be the most spectacular casino in the world.’

  Madi stared at him. ‘Where would you put this . . . concept?’

  ‘We’ve chosen a location in the south, so we can fly in the Brazilians, Colombians and Venezuelans as well as the Americans, Canadians, Brits, Japanese and other Asian tourists who would come in through Miami and Trinidad.’

  ‘How would you supply, staff and run a huge complex in the middle of nowhere?’ said Madi, thinking this sounded pie in the sky stuff.

  ‘All it takes is money. I agree it will not be easy. You understand what is involved in the smooth running of a large complex.’

  ‘You must have access to a huge amount of money. May I ask who is behind this?’

  ‘Let’s just say a consortium. As you are aware, profits from a successful casino can be immense. The backers feel it’s worth the investment.’

  ‘So where do I come in?’ Madi’s mind was racing but she wanted as much information as she could get before making a decision.

  ‘We need the outline of a general promotional and marketing campaign, the PR side of it, to sell the concept to a few more offshore investors, the government, tourism and airline people and other parties we need to have on our side.’

  ‘A glossy sales brochure prospectus pitch, eh? The rewards, benefits and pluses for all concerned,’ said Madi with quiet authority.

  ‘You have the picture.’

  ‘Has the government given the go ahead?’

  ‘The relative departments and ministers have indicated there’s a green light on it.’

  ‘But nothing is set in cement.’ Madi wondered how sure this deal really was, but thinking quickly, decided that wasn’t her concern. She could see fast and relatively easy money. ‘I’d need to go to the location, get the feel of it, talk to the people involved . . .’

  ‘Of course, we can fly you down south any time. As for information, I can give you everything you need, facts, photographs, artist’s impression, plans . . .’

  ‘But you’re the spokesperson. Is the Pessaro chain involved?’ Madi wondered why the backers and investors wished to remain anonymous. They’d chosen a perfect front man in Sasha St Herve.

  ‘Indirectly. Package deals will involve clients coming into Georgetown and staying here before flying to the casino. Confidentially, it so happens my contract will be up for renewal at the same time we anticipate the Amazonia complex opening, so I could make a lateral move.’

  ‘Turn down Europe for the jungle?’ Madi gave the suave European an amused glance. He had the grace to look a trifle embarrassed.

  ‘Money compensates for certain compromises and hardships. I can always fly to Europe for my vacation.’

  Well, they’ve bought you, thought Madi. Then she said, ‘I’m intrigued by the whole idea, of course. But I would like to think about it. Could we meet when I come back from my trip to the interior?’

  ‘Of course. A perfect arrangement. You’ll agree I’m sure that this country has huge potential for development.’

  They moved on to talk about the hotel business, promotional successes and internationally known personalities in the hospitality industry. Madi enjoyed their talk but couldn’t help feeling her involvement in the hotel business now seemed part of a previous life.

  She finished her tea and thanked Sasha. As he escorted her through the lobby past shops displaying raw paintings of local scenes and ‘Amerindian Artefacts For Sale’, she saw Antonio Destra coming towards her with a wide smile. He stopped and shook Sasha’s hand. ‘I’m pleased to see you took my advice,’ he said to Madi.

  Madi turned to Sasha. ‘Antonio ran into me meeting a Guyanese friend in a less than salubrious coffee shop in Charlestown this morning. He suggested I should frequent the Pessaro instead.’

  ‘I have to agree, of course. You were out experiencing the other side of Georgetown, eh?’ said Sasha smoothly.

  ‘Only coffee with a friend. My big experience is yet to come.’ Sh
e said goodbye to them both and went to the entrance, nodding to one of the two Pessaro taxis. Glancing over her shoulder she was surprised to see Antonio and Sasha engrossed in conversation.

  It only took a week to assemble the expedition to Kaieteur Falls and on the night before their dawn departure the party of six gathered at the da Silvas’ home for a barbecue and final checklist. John had two trailers to be towed by Land Rovers. Each had hollow sides which formed an extra petrol tank. Each carried spare tyres, ropes, tools, oars, water in heavy plastic barrels, cooking fuel, hammocks, tarpaulins and personal bags. Food was stored in a borrowed airline in-flight food container. Madi had followed the advice to pack as little as possible because they had to carry their own gear as well as extras.

  As the final equipment was stowed in the trailers under John’s supervision, Madi perched on the portico beneath a weak-bulbed light and read the appendix in Gwen’s book. Gwen had listed all the items she had ordered for her expedition. Rations were served out each Sunday morning, each item being weighed in front of her men.

  ‘So what does Gwen say we should have?’ asked Connor teasingly.

  ‘She recommends keeping the sugar soldered in a kerosene drum so it doesn’t get wet or punctured. Among her medicines she says Maorix is a wonderful liniment—a secret acquired from the Maoris of New Zealand who have knowledge of herbs, the secret of whose healing properties is unknown to Europeans,’ she read.

  ‘What’s it cure?’

  ‘It immediately alleviates the irritation of mosquito bites and stings. Which reminds me, do you have repellent, Connor?’

  ‘Where’s the list.’ He pulled a scrap of paper from his shorts pocket. ‘Toilet paper, toothbrush and paste, hard water soap, mossie repellent, headache and tummy pills, plastic bags to keep everything in.’

  ‘Sensible shoes that can get wet,’ added Ann.

  ‘I’m bringing my camera and extra film and a notebook,’ said Madi.