When the Singing Stops

by Di Morrissey

  After all, when someone like Bacchus went down, there was no saying what the repercussions might be.

  Inspector Palmer of the Georgetown police attended the Bacchus funeral, partly in the line of duty, partly out of personal obligation. He would never admit it, but he was relieved at the demise of this man. While Bacchus’ death had generated a search for the killer, it also removed the need for an investigation into claims that were certain to upset a lot of powerful people connected to the banker.

  Odd, he thought as he nodded to acknowledge greetings from other mourners, that the Australian woman, Madison Wright, was linked to yet another dead man. Bacchus was dead so there would be no point in interviewing her now about her allegations that he was connected with drug trafficking—a story that had been discreetly circulating in high quarters. He amused himself by contemplating whether many Australian women had this penchant for being associated with bodies and violence, and the possible reason for such an unfortunate trait.

  The object of Inspector Palmer’s thoughts was at that moment being ushered into the office of Xavier Rodrigues at the Amerindian hostel.

  Seated with Xavier was Pieter Van Horen and both rose to greet her enthusiastically.

  Pieter gave her a big hug, Xavier grasped her hand with both of his, shaking it warmly.

  ‘It’s so good to see you again, Miss Wright, this time in more positive circumstances,’ said Xavier. ‘I was amazed that you had completed your tourism proposal so rapidly. Ah, if only the Guyanese had such a work ethic, what a place it would be. Don’t you agree, Pieter?’

  ‘There is room for a little improvement,’ replied Pieter with deliberate understatement, ‘but there first has to be an opportunity for change.’

  ‘True. That’s what we’re working towards, and making some unexpected progress, I might add,’ responded Xavier, but he didn’t elaborate. ‘You have the eco tourism paper for us to look at?’

  Madi reached into a briefcase and pulled out half a dozen printed and bound copies of her proposal, along with a presentation folder of relevant photographs, and advertising and promotional concepts in draft form.

  ‘My brother, Matthew, was kind enough to let me pay the mine office printers to work overtime to help put it all together for you.’

  Xavier flashed her a smile of appreciation and thumbed speedily through the text folder, pausing here and there to take in some of the facts and figures.

  Then he cleared a space on his desk and spread the photographs and promotional material for each of them to examine.

  ‘These concepts are for a later stage, of course,’ explained Madi. ‘First stage to be addressed is the targeting of specific locations and the setting up of the infrastructure needed. It would require co-ordination with the airlines, an improved communications system, better accommodation and development of local cultural features. Where possible, I’ve included two to fourteen day package suggestions, using four-wheel drives, boats and hiking to give a full experience. It’s very much aimed to appeal to the more adventurous holidaymaker. If you can entice tourists over from the Caribbean and from the United States for a more exciting nature-lovers’ vacation in an unspoiled and unique corner of the world, then the Guyanese ecotourism industry should prosper.’

  ‘Most impressive. Very fine work,’ said Xavier, looking at the supporting papers with a keen eye.

  She ran through the specifics dealing with each tourist location separately, and then sat back. Pieter held out his great paw of a hand. ‘Congratulations. It’s exactly what should be done here.’

  Xavier nodded. ‘I agree. This is a first-class concept. But there remain a few other parties to be convinced and funds to be found—and there are always more pressing needs. And it will be some time, because of the small number of tourists involved, before it makes significant money.’

  ‘You’re sounding like a politician,’ said Madi with a tight smile, a little deflated by his reservations, practical though they might be.

  Xavier hastened to be reassuring. ‘The politicians are the people we have to convince. With your permission, I will present it at a forum of government officials and our people which is being planned to take place at New Spirit.’

  Madi shrugged. ‘It’s yours. My gift to Guyana. I hope next time I come back, I can book into one of these successfully operating eco tours.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing at the moment. The experience I had upriver with Connor was most distressing, and the murder of Bacchus hasn’t made the situation any less alarming.’

  Xavier began collecting the papers on his desk to put back in the folders. ‘Such events impact on all of us more than you think, Madison, devastating as they were for you. They are all an essential part of the emerging big picture of changing Guyana. Drug running represents part of the contemporary power play. Distasteful as it is, we have to determine how deep crime and corruption is embedded here, and work out what to do about it. No one willingly wants to abdicate positions of power. The fight to hold onto it can become very tough, very dirty. Those of us who hold other values must be ready to adapt our tactics as the situation changes.’

  Madi was puzzled. She had never heard Xavier talk like this. He had seemed the perfect example of a new age indigenous politician. But here he was hinting at what?

  Xavier stood and moved from his desk to stand beside her.

  ‘Whatever happens, Madison, remember this. You know what is special about the ground beneath me? I am allowed to stand here because I choose to be here. No person, no government can say to me: You are not allowed to be in this place, you cannot live here, you have no right to be here. This is our country, we are not slaves, it is our land and we are fighting for the right to be part of the decision-making process that determines how we live our lives in our country. Whether we be Amerindian or descendants of slaves or accidents of colonial rape. I want our Guyanese children to have the right to live in a harmonious, sustainable and beautiful country. That’s what I’m fighting for, and I’ll use whatever means I have to achieve it.’

  Madi was greatly moved by Xavier’s words. All her doubts about him disappeared and she once again felt a surging confidence that this man might one day lead his people, perhaps the nation, to a better future. ‘I’m sure your dreams will come true, Xavier.’

  ‘We must always hang on to our dreams, even if sometimes they become a little nightmarish.’ He gave a laugh. ‘Enough of this. Thanks again for your paper. I will study it closely and will keep in touch. You won’t leave without letting me know, will you?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Pieter walked Madi to Lester’s cab. ‘By the way, thanks for putting in such a good word with Connor about our work. He called me this morning to say his company’s head office was interested in principle about doing something—whatever that means—to help us. But it sounds promising.’

  Madi was delighted. ‘That’s great news, Pieter. I’ll give him an extra kiss when I see him tonight.’

  She was about to get in the taxi when someone loudly called her name from across the compound. It was Lady Annabel, pottering around the doorway of the Amerindian artefacts shop. Madi gave Pieter a quick kiss on his bushy cheek. ‘See you later, no doubt. Have to join Lady Annabel over at the shop.’

  Pieter watched as she strode across the compound to embrace Lady Annabel. He slowly shook his head as he turned to walk back inside to resume talks with Xavier about strategies for the important meeting coming up at New Spirit. He was feeling a little sad for he knew that before long the idealistic young woman he admired so much was going to have some of that idealism sorely tested.

  Lady Annabel linked her arm through Madi’s. ‘Dear girl, come and help me choose. Colonel Bede wants a painting and there are several just in, wonderful work from interior artists. They’re not all traditional Amerindian style but they capture the place, don’t you think?’

  Madi walked slowly past the poorly framed paintings hung
on the shop wall. Memories came flooding back as she looked at the paintings of savannah country, Kaieteur Falls, Amerindian village scenes and primitive-style Amerindian symbols and animals.

  Lady Annabel chose a large painting of Kaieteur Falls. ‘With a better frame, something large and gold, it will suit Bede’s office, don’t you think? Lester, would you mind lifting it down.’

  Lester carried the picture to the counter as Madi remarked, ‘I didn’t think the colonel ever went to his office at the old house?’

  ‘He says he has high expectations of being more involved now he’s been asked to host some conference of national consequence. Can’t imagine how. He talks about the country going straight, once the dust has settled over the demise of the unfortunate Mr Bacchus.’ She gave a hearty laugh. ‘Well, straighter.’

  A painting at the far end of the gallery, half hidden by a stand of postcards, caught Madi’s eye. She went closer and smiled when she was able to take in the detail of the work. It was a pretty little oil of a lush green plant touched by sunrays which glistened on drops of water. And if you looked closely, you could see the tiny gold frog crouched between the long waxy fronds. Without a word Madi reached up and lifted it from the wall and turned to find a smiling Lester. ‘Ah reckon dat artist must have had yo in mind when he do dat one.’

  She held the picture at arm’s length and looked at it again. ‘Ah reckon dey sure did, Lester. Ah reckon dat right, man.’

  Lester drove them back to Lady Annabel’s flat where he waited while the two women had what they promised would be ‘a quick coffee’. It was hot enough for him to decide to stretch out on the back seat for a midday snooze.

  ‘What did you make of the death of Mr Bacchus?’ asked Madi, without displaying any emotional connection with the event. ‘We were quite close to the stand when it happened.’

  ‘Make of it? Goodness, my dear, one could make a great deal of it, if one had real evidence and not just coffee shop gossip and rumour. He was a big player with a finger in this country’s honey pot. I’ve always thought that the ideal way to operate in Guyana would be to have a bank behind you. All that money, even if It’s not yours, says one thing—power. And that means you can get things done, get more power. Oh, It’s a ruthless game, Madison, and getting more so every day. Everywhere in the world. It was all far more dignified—no more honest, I daresay—but more dignified in our day on the diplomatic circuit.’

  Coffee was poured and, after the maid had left, Madi raised the subject that had been puzzling her ever since the Bacchus murder. ‘You know Antonio Destra, of course?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she laughed. ‘The puppetmaster.’

  The what?’

  ‘The puppetmaster, my dear. One who pulls the strings behind the scenes, and watches everyone jump around to his command.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’re suggesting.’

  Lady Annabel looked at her in mock dismay. ‘Really, Madison, where have you been all your life? The Agency, girl, the Agency.’

  Madi looked blank.

  ‘Goodness, do I have to spell it out . . . C-I-A. Now do you understand?’

  For a moment, Madi was speechless. ‘How do you know?’ She spoke almost in a whisper as if there might be a spy behind the curtains.

  ‘Well, one doesn’t, does one? You have to put two and two together and get five to figure out how the CIA operates in countries like this. But, my dear Madison, I’ll wager London Bridge that I’m right. He has fingers and eyes everywhere, always doing favours, and no doubt calling them in when he needs the leverage.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Now, Madi, tell me all about your trip to the Rupunini. Swimming with otters was all the vogue I hear.’

  Madi could hardly wait for Connor to get home for dinner. She stood on the verandah with drinks ready, quickly adding the ice when his car arrived at the gate.

  Her welcome home kiss was more passionate than usual, which made Connor cock his head to one side and ask, ‘Well, what did I do to deserve that bonus?’

  ‘It’s a little thank you for so promptly putting together a submission to the IFO on the plant medicine project. I saw Pieter today and he told me that you phoned him.’ She kissed him again lightly on the cheek. ‘But guess what I’ve heard?’ He shook his head. ‘Antonio Destra works for the CIA.’

  Connor’s jaw dropped slightly. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Lady Annabel.’

  ‘Could she prove it? I mean he doesn’t exactly have it on his business card.’

  ‘She can’t prove it,’ replied Madi, a little miffed at Connor’s doubt. ‘It’s her conclusion, based on the way he is always around in the right places with the right people.’

  Connor took time to sip his drink, then sat down on a cane chair and twiddled his glass thoughtfully. ‘If she’s right, what’s at the top of his agenda? He’s put up some money to help sponsor this national think-tank forum up at New Spirit in a couple of weeks.’

  Madi was curious. ‘What will the think-tank think about? Who’s going?’

  ‘I got an invitation to represent the IFO today. Pieter and Xavier will be there. I’m surprised they didn’t mention it to you.’

  ‘They did say they were tabling my eco tourism paper at a meeting, but it went right over my head at the time. Who issued the invitation?’

  ‘Colonel Olivera. He’s chairing the show. Sort of a neutral chair. Reps of all the big companies, government departments, and leaders of the major ethnic groups in Guyana will be there. It’s to work out directions and make recommendations to the government on ways to tackle the current crisis of confidence in the country. Nut out some compromises, get new projects launched and, as is the way in Guyana, swing some deals behind closed doors.’

  The news stunned Madi. Suddenly the whole picture became clear and she recognised the message that Xavier was signalling to her earlier that day. It was a realisation almost beyond belief. Xavier was prepared to accept compromise, and perhaps even co-operate with the very people who were now running Guyana into the ground.

  ‘What sort of recommendations do you expect to emerge?’

  ‘There’s talk of setting up a vast forest reserve as a national park, with Amerindian involvement. The trade-off, I guess, will be more licences for forest harvesting. There’ll be statements about greater environmental controls on loggers and miners—the international bankers with their new enviro-policies will be demanding that, as well as Xavier’s mob. There’s talk of greater representation of the views of the minority groups too.’

  Madi was incensed. ‘It’s a sell-out, a damned sell-out,’ she said rigidly, feeling the rage surge in her chest. ‘I can’t believe it. And you seem so relaxed about going along with it. It even looks like the whole thing has been organised on the quiet by the CIA.’

  ‘That’s over the top, Madi. Pressure for change has been building up here for a long time.’

  Madi rounded on Connor, seething with anger. ‘You’re talking as if it’s all wonderful.’

  ‘Madi,’ pleaded Connor, ‘please calm down.’ He stood up to go to her, but she put out her hand in a traffic-stopping gesture.

  ‘Don’t touch me, Connor. I’m so mad I could throw something. Can you understand how wrong it is that the future is being worked out by spooks and corrupt officials, sitting around a table with other powerbrokers. The whole thing made to look as if It’s respectable and worthy. It makes me sick.’

  Connor tried to be soothing. ‘You have to be part of the system to change it, Madi. It’s the way of the world, darling. Even if you’re idealistic, like Xavier, you have to divert the current in your direction. Bend like the bamboo, but stay strong.’

  ‘But It’s a betrayal of the Amerindians.’

  ‘That may be how it looks to you. But later, they may see he has made great gains for them. It’s a matter of perception.’

  Madi slumped back in her chair and buried her face in her hands.

  Connor reached out and touched her lightly on the shoul
der.

  She looked up, and gave a weak smile in acknowledgment of his gesture. ‘It’s hard to stomach really. It was just that I saw Xavier as a saviour of this country. Why couldn’t he be strong and stand alone?’

  ‘Because, sweet love, he couldn’t win by standing alone. That’s why. The system is stacked against those who stand alone.’

  Madi took a deep breath. ‘When is this conference going to be made public?’

  ‘Tomorrow, I understand. There’ll be a joint statement by Olivera, Xavier, and the Prime Minister. At the Pessaro.’

  ‘At the Pessaro,’ she repeated with resignation. ‘That’s the final irony. Now I know why Xavier called off the rally. It wasn’t because of the Bacchus death. The conference deal had already been set up.’

  ‘Madi, don’t be so angry. All these people coming together at New Spirit realise as individuals they can try to influence matters. So each person will push his own agenda and it will be a consensus at the end of the day. Give a little, take a little. It’s how the world works, Madi.’

  ‘I don’t agree with it. That’s why there are still good, honest idealists who will fight on to make the world a better, safer, cleaner place. The sort of people who care about little gold frogs at the top of a waterfall.’ Her voice was starting to rise.

  As much as it hurt, Madi now understood more clearly why Xavier had ended up this way. In a revealing flash she saw that she too had been making a journey, but hers had been without compromise.

  ‘I need some time to myself. I’m going out for awhile. I’ll probably call in and see Matt. Don’t wait up.’ She spoke in a resigned calm voice and went to get her handbag and picked up Connor’s car keys.

  ‘I won’t stop you, Madi. I understand this isn’t the happy ending you envisaged. But then nothing in life is predictable in any way. Circumstances change and we have to adjust to them.’ He sounded tired.

  Madi drove down to the seawall. She parked the car and walked over to the low stone barrier that held back the Atlantic Ocean. Further down, a courting couple leaned against the wall, arms wrapped about each other. The breeze was fresh but it still carried the special tang of mud, salt and rotting vegetation. The tide was in and slapped gently below in the darkness.