He followed me to the computer. “What do you mean?’
“I don’t know. I’ve watched the footage a couple of times, still can’t see what it could be for. And I went combing through this drive, but there’s a ton of stuff on here.’
He tapped me to get up and give him the chair in front of the monitor. “Well, let me look—a fresh pair of eyes.’
I said I’d make us some fresh coffee and was happy to leave him to it. I plonked myself down and sipped my coffee, staring out the window and wondering how Helena and the others were doing back in London. Only days since I’d left, but it felt like a lifetime. I barely noticed any passage of time until I heard Graham grunt, peering somberly at the computer screen.
“What?’ I asked.
“Did you check out the other video files on here?’
“No,’ I answered with a shrug. “I focused on the financial stuff. I just assumed they were more porn—or the same mosque footage we’ve seen. Why?’
Another troubled grunt. “Remember when I said we got cool stuff like satellite surveillance, but they didn’t deem you worthy for the major hardware?’
“Yeah.’
“Remember how I said I work on a budget?’
“Yeah.’
“Somebody has decided a certain other lady is worth the dosh.’
He had me on my feet now, and I rested my hand on his shoulder as I peered at the screen. “That looks like …’
“It is,’ said Graham.
“Oh, my God.’
We were staring at satellite footage files of the safe house, the one in the favela for Beatriz and her vigilante pals. Marinho, and therefore Ferreira, could pull up a satellite link anytime they liked to keep tabs on her and her small army.
“If they’ve got these images…’
“They got them with intelligence network uplinks,’ he said, his finger pointing along the bottom of the image. “See these scrolling numbers? That’s encryption coding de-scrambled. This is really bad—letting these maniacs have access to the most sophisticated technology of… The most bloody stupid irresponsible thing I’ve ever seen! How could any intelligence outfit do it?’
“We’ve got another pressing question to worry about,’ I said.
“What?’
“Isn’t it obvious?’ I asked. “We both know Beatriz wants to kill Marinho—and now Ferreira, too—first chance she gets. Marinho turned her into a whore, and she hates Ferreira as the big boss of everything. She’ll blow either of them away on sight. So why are they allowing her to stay alive? They know exactly where she hides out. They can pinpoint her from space, for God’s sake! Maybe they can’t watch her every minute of the day, but they can move in anytime they like with their firepower to massacre her and her mates.’
Graham wrinkled his brow, nodding slowly. “There’s only one reason in their world you leave an enemy alive.’
“Because she’s useful in some way.’
He nodded. “Exactly. But what use can Beatriz possibly still be to Ferreira? Or even Marinho?’
I tapped the screen. “Go back for a second.’
He ran it back for me. As good as the footage from space was, we were still looking down on people’s heads, kind of difficult at times to tell who was who. “Wish there was a zoom on this thing.’
“Just so happens I have one,’ said Graham. He flipped to the desktop and tapped an icon, and suddenly a new program started. He typed so quickly, I could barely follow, but within seconds, we were seeing a blown-up image of the shot.
“Hey, how did you do that?’
“Trade secrets, my dear,’ he laughed, and I swatted him.
“This software must cost a lot,’ I said. “Thought you worked on a budget.’ But before he could reply, I was pointing at the screen again. “There! I’ve seen this guy.’
Deep-set eyes, mustache, Turkish or Arabic—Beatriz’s contact from the baile funk. “She said his name is Qabbani. Says he’s her gunrunner.’
“Gunrunner hardly covers it!’ replied Graham. “That’s Bassam Qabbani. He’s Syrian, known to British intelligence. He’s not your small-time thug selling rifles out of a garage. He deals in Semtex, missiles—you’re shopping for a tank, you go see this guy.’
“Beatriz said they do favors for each other.’
“What the hell is going on?’ murmured Graham, sitting back.
“Whatever it is, Ferreira and Marinho must already know. They’ve got this footage—they’re two steps ahead. Let’s go ask our nice pimp.’
“Teresa, we’ve got to be very careful with Marinho.’
“Oh?’
“I know he looks ridiculous, but he’s a killing machine. People think the martial art of capoeira is pretty, but it’s lethal if done right.’
“Yeah, I got a quick sample in London. He’s the one who beat Luis to death, isn’t he?’
“I don’t know what happened to your friend, but I’d lay odds…’ Graham sucked air in a hiss through his teeth, nodding his head. He believed it, too.
“Whether Marinho killed him or not, he had a part in the murder. And I owe him for a couple of very scary minutes in my life. I definitely want another face-to-face with him.’
♦
More like a foot-to-face. And if I were still editing movies— I mean something other than porn—there would be a fast cut to the nice African girl getting another boot to the head. Okay, I’ll back up and explain.
Short version is that Graham knew where Marinho’s girlfriend lived, at a small luxury suite in Copacabana, and MI6 kept a safe house in the same district where we could stash him once he was subdued. We were lucky—he stopped in to see the girl, settling in right where we needed him to be. His familiar routine made him careless. No bodyguards in the building foyer—they were sitting bored in a car, which we easily slipped by. Once upstairs, Graham listened by the door. He whispered to me that he could hear our prey inside, and now came the hard part, the actual subduing.
I was better with locks, so as we heard muffled chatter and a loud stereo, I got the door open. I was thinking how Graham and I made a good team as we rushed in, his 9mm Glock raised—then everything went pear-shaped. Marinho was on a couch, literally pulling on his socks, his expression dumbfounded. Good, good. Then his girl screamed from another room and launched herself at Graham with an expandable baton. Maybe Marinho had given it to her to protect herself.
“Watch out!’ I yelled.
The baton swung down towards his head. Graham spun out of the way, but now he was close to Marinho. The socks were dropped and the gangster’s feet were airborne. Oh, oh.
He clipped the gun from Graham’s hands as the girl rushed forward to hammer him with the baton. I watched my man do a little sidestep, grab her wrist, and use an aikido throw that catapulted her into the kitchen—boom.
Marinho’s feet were deadly. Like a child’s spinning top, his head went south, his heels in the air arcing around to slap him in the jaw. Capoeira.
All at once I was facing Marinho on my own.
“You killed Luis Antunes personally, didn’t you?’ I asked. “Killed him before you went after Duncan at the studio.’
He grinned as if I’d just told him a marvelous joke. “Yes. And it was easy.’
That’s all I needed. I launched a side-thrust kick.
Bad move. Capoeira stylists are good at sinking to the ground and getting out of the way, and my heel bit air. He did a jack-in-the-box spring upwards and clocked me right to the temple with his heel. Heavy foot calluses. Ow. The kind of blow that dropped me unconscious the first time I ran into him.
Be. Careful.
I hate guys who know capoeira.
My peripheral vision caught the girl vertical again and collecting her baton. She vented pure fury at Graham, letting Marinho have his fun with me. Graham did another spin around her and put her in a quick sleeper hold, and I heard metal clatter on kitchen tiles. I knew he’d be with me in two seconds, but I didn’t have two seconds—Marinho might
end this in one. Unless I took him out with something inspired.
Marinho sank again, his leg swinging to clothesline me and drop me on my ass, but I made a little hop and then stomped down in a move right out of a Shotokan kata, Tekki Shodan. If he hadn’t pulled away, I would have broken his leg.
“Chivalry time?’ asked Graham.
“Not yet, darling,’ I said, as Marinho nearly took my head off.
Got to fight your own duels, girl. But I loved the fact that he asked—he didn’t jump in to take over.
Inspiration came. These guys like spinning arcs, I thought. Fine. I was sure Marinho could use his hands, but I bet he relied too much on his spectacular feet. I also knew my karate kicks were no match here, so I backed up, backed up, and the blond grinning psycho chased me. Good.
He saw Graham wasn’t going to interfere. If he’d let a logical thought enter that macho cranium, he might have remembered my partner simply had to pick up his gun.
Graham knew I wanted this moment.
Marinho followed me into a bedroom. Excellent. And as he sank down again for another spinning kick, it hit him too late he didn’t have the room for it. His calf smashed into a mirror above an end table, and I booted him in the gut. He did a handstand, trying another kick, but the range and the confines were cramping his style, easy to tag him with a punch to his upside-down belly. He recovered well, decided to fall back on punches.
I was right. Fists weren’t nearly as quick as his feet. Odds were evened now.
“You murdered somebody I liked,’ I said, and I deflected his punch with an inside block. Counter flashing in a second curve—
He screamed and dropped to the floor—I had broken his elbow joint. No more handstands to launch those high kicks. I backed away, because while it’s one thing to practice this stuff in the dojo, it’s another to let instincts take over and actually maim somebody.
I got over it. He had killed Luis.
Marinho passed out from the agony.
Graham whistled a Brazilian pop tune as he walked in, casually putting away his Glock. “I get so much more done when you’re with me.’
“Some men don’t like it when you show up where they work.’
“Oh, not me,’ he said. “Here, kiss me in front of the bad guys.’
♦
The girl we left behind. And Marinho learned the trunk of the Volkswagen Beetle is surprisingly spacious. By the time we hustled him into the safe house ten minutes away, he was awake but swearing over the pain of his broken arm.
He had lost his fighting spirit but none of his bad attitude, especially handcuffed to a radiator in the bathroom.
“We want to talk to you about Beatriz,’ said Graham.
“That little whore?’ sneered Marinho. “Only one piece of her was ever any good, and even that was—’
“We get the idea,’ interrupted Graham. “How about you tell us why you’ve got state-of-the-art satellite surveillance on her group?’
“Or why British intelligence gave it to you?’ I added.
Graham shot me a look.
“Yes, I figured it out,’ I told him. “It’s fairly obvious. For one thing, you were so disturbed by seeing the technology in the office—because you knew where it came from. You probably even recognized those encryption codes. And who do you think hired me to investigate Silky Pictures in the first place?’
Now Graham was really shocked. “I thought… I assumed Luis Antunes brought you in himself! To track down who was putting out the nasty hard-core DVDs.’
I shook my head. “You assumed. You never asked. If you don’t believe me, I can describe the foyer of Legoland.’
“I believe you, I believe you. Shit, what a mess. We’ve got to talk later.’
“The British are always so foolish,’ laughed Marinho.
“Right, that’s the second time I’ve heard that,’ I snapped. “First Ferreira, now you—you’re both awfully smug.’
“Look at you!’ cackled Marinho. “You don’t even know each other’s secrets. You think you can know ours? Big spy! Big detective! Your own superiors will let it happen. And they left you two in the dark.’
“Let what happen?’ I demanded.
“What the hell are you talking about?’ asked Graham. “Why are you watching Beatriz and her group? What’s so important about Foz do Iguaçu?’
Marinho tried to cradle his broken arm. We had cuffed his good one to the radiator. I had to give him credit for keeping up his defiance.
He made a wheezy laugh like a cartoon hyena. Whatever was so funny, he thought it was outright hilarious. “Hey, calm down, gringo. You can’t stop it anymore. And when it’s over, your superiors will let me go, Shit-for-brains.’
Graham and I stared at each other. I had the same taste of bile in my throat, the flavor of dread.
Graham yanked Marinho hard by his hair, lifting him inches off the floor.
“What the hell are you saying? We can’t stop what anymore? Are you saying you guys watch Beatriz because she’ll make an attack… ? There’s a terrorist attack planned there, and you bastards will let it happen?’
Beatriz meeting the arms dealer that night at the baile funk.
The Syrian, Bassam Qabbani. She must have been finalizing arrangements to get what she needed.
We thought… at least I thought Qabbani had sold weapons to Beatriz simply for her vendetta.
He was selling her weapons for a major attack.
“I don’t live in Foz do Iguaçu,’ Marinho laughed. “I don’t give a shit!’
“Where will it happen?’ asked Graham.
Marinho glowered at him. However he came by the information, he wasn’t ready to give that up—yet. “I wonder if she’ll face east before she sets it off.’
Graham kicked him in the face. A sudden explosive whip of his foot directly into the thug’s nose, and there was a geyser of ugly dark blood.
“What’s the target?’
Marinho spat blood on the floor. “Fuck you.’
“What’s the target?’
I pulled gently on Graham’s arm, drawing him out of the bathroom. “Look, maybe there’s a faster way,’ I whispered. “You’ve got ways of contacting Beatriz—call her right now. Tell her to call it off, whatever it is. They’ve been watching her all this time, and they want this attack to happen. She hates these guys. She’d be damned if she went ahead with anything that makes them happy.’
“We don’t know what her purpose is,’ said Graham. “Or her target. We tip our hand, she might push up her schedule.’
“Do you really think we have much choice?’
He saw my point and pulled out his phone. Beatriz wasn’t picking up, so he tried one of her lieutenants, quickly asking where she was, telling him it was an emergency. “Damn it, yes, I know we’re on an open cell-phone frequency, just spill it! Where’s she gone?’
I listened to the pauses, saw the growing shock on his face.
“Don’t you dare try to justify it!’ he yelled into the phone. “I swear to God if—’ But he didn’t get to finish his threat because Beatriz’s man hung up.
“What’s happening?’ I asked. “Where is she?’
“He won’t tell me,’ said Graham quietly. “But he did tell me what she’s doing. She got a lead on Ferreira’s whereabouts. She’s gone to assassinate him. With a bomb.’
Wonderful. Beatriz had already shown she didn’t care about who else got hurt in her struggle. Graham and I went back into the bathroom, and I watched him yank hard again on Marinho’s hair.
“You better tell us where your boss is or he’s going to get blown to bits.’
“The stupid whore,’ muttered Marinho.
“Where is Ferreira?’
“So he is blown to bits.’ Marinho shrugged. “The prick never appreciate me. Every time he buy a new place, I always send him a housewarming gift. Sent him an antique globe only last week—you think the son of a bitch thank me? They can watch the bits come down on the beach. Way I see it, I
will get a promotion.’
“Your loyalty is inspiring,’ replied Graham.
I was a beat behind. “The beach …’
Now Graham focused. The beach—that meant Ipanema. Too late, Marinho recognized his slip.
“Narrow it down!’ roared Graham.
Marinho said nothing.
Graham’s foot blurred up from the floor tiles to kick him cruelly in the face.
“Narrow it down!’
“Merda, I don’t know his every step! He’s supposed to have dinner at Satyricon in—’
“Rua Barão da Torre, I know it, everyone knows it,’ said Graham. To me, he added, “It’s one of the best seafood restaurants here. Very upmarket, the kind of place Madonna goes to when she’s in town.’ He pushed Marinho’s shoulder hard with his foot. “Fine, he eats. Then where does he go?’
“I don’t know!’ answered Marinho. “He likes the spots around Bar 20 and on the Rua Visconde de Pirajá. If I can’t get him on his cell phone, he makes me track him down.’
“Marvelous.’ I sighed. “So that’s our job now. You might as well tell us the rest. What’s the target in Foz do lguaçu? And when?’
Marinho grinned, blood running from his nose and lining his teeth, making for a demented rictus of spite. “I don’t know that… You want to go save Ferreira? You want to save the whore? That’s fine by me! Maybe you two blow up when you arrive, and I get lucky.’
He watched Graham, expecting another kick in the face. It didn’t come.
Graham planted his knuckles on his hips, eyes turning to me. We would have to move fast in a moment, get down to Ipanema as quickly as possible. I confiscated Marinho’s cell phone, but just calling Ferreira—even if he listened to us— didn’t guarantee the safety of thousands.
“We’ve got to call the police,’ I whispered.
“And tell them what?’ replied Graham, walking out of the bathroom. “A description of a black woman in the center of Rio? Dressed in what? Carrying what? You’ve seen Beatriz in action now. She sees cops coming, and she’ll set the thing off early. If I get there—’
“That’s insane!’ I said, following him out. “You’re betting she’ll relent because she doesn’t want to kill you.’
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