by Mark Arundel
‘There’s someone at the favela I need to collect,’ I said. ‘It’s very straightforward. All you have to do is drive us there, wait while I go and get this man and then drive us back.’ Bruno looked from me to the money and back again.
‘The favela is a dangerous place,’ he said. ‘It is not safe to park there and wait.’ I counted out another five notes and held them together with the first five.
‘You won’t have to wait there long,’ I said. ‘I plan on being quick.’ Bruno nodded at me as if “being quick” did not need saying. ‘Well, will you do it or shall I ask one of the other taxi drivers?’ Bruno nodded again with his eyes on the money.
‘Yes, yes, I will do it, but for another five,’ he said. I counted out five more notes and then put them together with the ten. I put the rest of the bundle away in my pocket and opened the back door.
‘Get in,’ I said to Grace.
Throughout my conversation with Bruno, Grace had remained silent. Now she spoke. She said only three words: ‘You are crazy.’ She had a point. Why was I doing it? After all, as Grace had pointed out earlier, I had only just met Snowy, so why did I care whether he lived or died. Bartholomew Meriwether had aggravated me with his deceitful methods and his superior expectation that I would blindly follow his commands, but that was not the reason. Grace, too, had displeased me with her callous disregard for Snowy’s life based solely, as far as I could see, on selfish grounds, but that was not the reason either. Perhaps I enjoyed the action, the adventure and testing myself against adversity and physical danger. In that, undoubtedly, there was some truth. After all, I was a British trained soldier, but that was not the reason either. No, the reason was, you see, that Charlotte had asked me to do it. It was during our last phone conversation: “I need you to keep Snowy alive. Can you do that for me?” Charlotte had not explained despite my insistence. I had replied that I would do all that I could. Something that I now felt was worthy of regret.
Sitting on the back seat of Bruno’s yellow taxi with the doors shut gave me the ideal opportunity to frisk Grace. Earlier, I thought she had lied to me.
Bruno turned in the driver’s seat and looked at me expectantly. I gave him the money. He smiled broadly, replaced the unlit cigar between stained teeth and then fired the VW’s engine. It ran sweetly like an old-fashioned sewing machine.
I ran the palms of my hands over Grace’s body. The sudden intimacy surprised her and she pulled away. I moved closer to her on the seat and continued the artless search of her clothing and body. Her hand went for the door catch, so I grabbed her wrist. She protested which I ignored. I forced my hand lower and she squirmed. She was light and I lifted her easily. Across her lower back and over her buttocks gave my search its reward. I pulled out the offending object and then released Grace. She huffed with indignation while she rearranged herself. It was a phone, not a K106 but the latest mass-market offering. I switched it off and then put it away in the plastic bag with my other items. I wondered if Grace felt contrition but if she did, her face hid it well. Inside the taxi, her eyes were indigo blue and they studied my face with such impervious candour that I looked away and turned all my effort and energy to saving Snowy. I thought Grace would revert to “silent mode” but, unfortunately, I was wrong.
‘The favela is very big,’ she informed in a helpful manner that made me turn my head and look at her, ‘much bigger than you probably imagine, and it’s on a steep hillside. You will find it hard to navigate and even harder to cover the ground quickly. It does have some narrow roads that traverse the slope, but access is mainly by pathways and shortcuts between the randomly built shacks and concrete buildings.’
‘She is right, senhor,’ agreed Bruno over his shoulder. ‘If you do not know the favela it is very hard to find your way. In the dark, you will get lost.’ I resisted giving thanks to Grace and Bruno for their uplifting advice and instead studied Grace’s K106.
‘And that isn’t your only problem,’ Grace said. I remained fixed to the K106, but my lack of interest in her advice was not enough to discourage her from giving it. ‘How will you know where to find Snowy? They could have him anywhere inside the favela. What will you do, stop someone and ask?’ I might have mentioned before that I find sarcasm unattractive in a woman.
Bruno turned and looked at me over his shoulder. ‘You do not know where this person is?’ he said with undisguised surprise and alarm.
‘Bruno,’ I said, ‘don’t worry, of course, I know where he is.’ I held up Grace’s K106. ‘His location is shown right here on this screen.’ I pointed at the glass with my finger. Grace looked unhappy but not surprised. ‘I knew you would have a GPS tracker on his phone. It makes sense that you would always want to know where he is. This tracker pinpoints his position to within a few short paces. I should find him easily.’
This time, Bruno did not bother to turn his head. He just used a louder voice. ‘What if your friend and his phone are not in the same place, senhor?’ It was a good question and it gave Grace a good reason to smile, which was something she had not had for some time. I remained silent. It was something I would only find out when I got there.
Bruno drove in the same way that all taxi drivers drove. With all that time spent behind the steering wheel, on the same roads, the roads of your hometown, driving in any other way is impossible.
We were almost at the end of the main, beach strip. The tall apartment blocks were to our right and ahead, the road turned sharply against a densely wooded hillside and the mountainous rock above. We were driving westerly and the dying sun had fallen below the cone-peaked mound and left behind a dramatic blood orange sky worthy of any Hollywood film.
I checked Grace’s K106 again. The tracker signal from Snowy’s phone had remained stationary the whole time. I hoped it was a good sign. Looking at the sky again, I wondered, just as I always did before entering a dangerous situation, whether The Lady would smile. Some say you make your own luck, but I am not so sure. It seems to me that something with so many determining factors cannot exist solely within the control of one person.
‘Bruno, stop the taxi and park where you can on this road,’ I said. Bruno turned his head to look at me.
‘What is wrong?’ he asked. His dark eyes communicated concern. He expected to hear me tell him something important. His theatrical character gave the impression of natural drama.
‘There is nothing wrong,’ I said. ‘I want to prepare and to time our arrival with the last few minutes of dusk.’
‘What is dusk?’ he asked with a frown.
‘The last few minutes of light just before it gets dark,’ I explained. He nodded his head and made a noise that told me he now understood. His mouth still held the unlit cigar although it sometimes went from mouth to hand and then back again.
After a short distance, Bruno found a place to pull off the road. It was near a hotel. He parked facing the ocean and the blood-smeared sky filled the windscreen. Other vehicles kept us company and people stood at the front and gazed transfixed like holiday pagans.
First on the list was to change my clothes. The dark t-shirt with the funk design replaced the plain one that I had on and for my beach tuggers, I substituted the dark combat shorts with multiple pockets. From my bag, I took a pair of socks and a pair of training shoes that had a good grip. I remained in the back seat while making the change and Grace watched me. She turned away at the appropriate moments, but not until she had seen my nakedness.
The next thing to do was fill my pockets with all the things I wanted to take. I swapped over my wallet from the old to the new shorts, but only after filling it with all the cash that I had left. Where I was going a wad of cash just might make the difference. Bruno had turned around now and he and Grace watched me together in silence. Perhaps they were thinking about what I was about to do or perhaps they simply enjoyed watching me. Either way, their eyes studied each of the items as I prepared. I examined both Taurus pistols and chose what I thought was the newest one. Each had a full clip,
so I put the spare one in my hip pocket. Then, after checking the safety, I put the chosen pistol into my waistband. It had a familiar feel.
I pulled opened the clasp knife, gripped the handle and tested the blade’s sharpness, which was reasonable with a decent point. I squeezed it closed and slipped it inside my other hip pocket.
Into one leg pocket, I put the phone I had taken from Grace. She had hidden it from me, but not so well that I was unable to find it. I left it switched off.
The firecracker box I opened and removed the contents. I looked to see the location of the touch paper and then placed all ten in my leg pocket. With a strong spin of the ratchet wheel, a flame ignited from the Zippo. Before snapping the casing shut and pocketing that too, I used it to burn a portion of the firecracker box. The smoke given off caused Grace to lower the window on her side. After rubbing the sooty embers between my palms, I wiped the charcoal over my face and forearms.
‘You are going into battle, senhor,’ said Bruno with the observation lowering his brow and creasing his forehead. His voice was sombre and hard to read. Whether he thought me brave or foolish I could not tell.
‘I hope not,’ I said, ‘but just in case it’s better for me if I’m hard to see.’
‘I do not know what it is you do. These men in the favela, they are dangerous men. If you take something from them, they will kill you. You have money, a beautiful woman and your life, senhor. I do not think you want to go.’ Bruno was earnest. We had only just met and yet he seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. I would have liked to tell him that I had changed my mind and for him to drive us to Lapa, so we could dance the samba, but instead I said, ‘Bruno, you’re the best taxi driver I’ve ever met and you give good advice.’ He grinned at me happily and nodded in agreement.
If I did not go into the favela and find Snowy before nightfall, then he was a dead man and I would have failed in my undertaking to Charlotte.
‘But still you go, yes?’ Bruno said in the way that meant he already knew the answer to his own question.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘still I go.’
Throughout this exchange, Grace had listened closely but remained silent. Now, Bruno turned to her for support. ‘Can you not stop him from this mad thing?’
With her face held expressionless, Grace shook her head slowly. ‘It seems not,’ she said. ‘If he wants to get himself killed...’ Grace left the sentiment hanging like a threatened observation of spoken wisdom. Bruno responded with a despondent grunt that came from his throat. Then he shrugged as if faced with such madness he was mad also to attempt reason.
‘I want to show you where I have to go in the favela,’ I said to an unhappy Bruno. Accepting the situation, he removed the cigar from his mouth and then leant his brown face through the space between the two front seats. I held up the K106, so we could both see the screen. ‘This map shows the whole favela and we are parked here on this road,’ I said and used my finger as a pointer. ‘As I zoom in you will see where I have to go.’ Bruno studied the map while I expanded its size enabling him to view the tracker signal from Snowy’s phone and to see from where inside the favela it emanated. I zoomed out and then in again slowly twice more to ensure that Bruno was confident of knowing the route.
‘Yes, I know where it is,’ he said with the certainty of a taxi driver. ‘The only place to park and wait that is close is here.’ He pointed on the screen with his finger. It was at the dead-end of a marked road in the northeast quadrant. ‘This road is just dirt from here, but here, it is wide enough. I can get round easily and then wait for your return.’ The place that Bruno had indicated was below the tracker signal, but close enough for me to reach on foot in only a few minutes. On the way back, the downhill route would help mainly as I would have Snowy with me. ‘Is that okay?’ Bruno asked with a stern expression.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘that’s okay.’ Bruno replaced the cigar in his mouth and then gave me a nod. I looked past him at the cloudless sky. The dying sun had fallen below the horizon leaving behind a pale, yellow-white halo and above a translucent baby blue that only appears in the final minutes before the blackness of night. My timing was perfect. ‘Let’s go,’ I said.
Bruno turned off onto a narrow road and climbed steeply against the hillside. The VW headlamps picked out the tarmac beside a banked verge as we swung through a second tight bend and then straightened.
Along the nearside of the slope, the lights were coming on inside the dwellings. In between, without lighting, the falling darkness turned pathways and openings black.
Once again, I checked the signal from Snowy’s phone. The location had remained constant. The last few minutes of our journey were now almost complete.
‘It is ahead here,’ Bruno said in a quieter than usual voice. He was beginning to feel the tension. Driving into the Vidigal favela with an armed passenger sporting a blackened face was not his regular kind of fare.
The hillside, as Grace had said, sloped steeply in places and the buildings were tightly packed. We passed two men walking together, but neither of them seemed to notice the taxi or if they did, paid it little attention. A small group of teenagers stood along the roadside. Two of them watched us as we drove past. Their staring faces were white for a second in the taxi’s headlights.
‘We are here,’ Bruno said, talking in almost a whisper. He braked the taxi to a stop and then turned to look at me.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Bruno, I’ll be as quick as I can. It could take five minutes or it could take longer. If you’re still waiting for me when I get back I’ll give you the same money again.’ Whether he needed the financial incentive, I was unsure, but it seemed a sensible idea to offer it.
‘I will wait for you, senhor,’ he replied, ‘as long as I can.’ He shrugged as if to say he could not specify an amount of time.
I turned to Grace. She was watching me. Her eyes were almost onyx in the twilight gloom and impossible to read. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ I said. It was all I could think of to say. What else was there?
‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ she said. Her voice was neutral. She could have been saying something mundane such as a platitude about safe driving. Her words annoyed me. It was pointless to say anything else to her. I checked the K106 one last time and then certain of my bearings I opened the car door, stepped out and left without saying “goodbye”.
12
GRACE
Grace watched him step out of the taxi, shut the car door quietly and then without a look back disappear into the deepening gloom. The blackness had now begun to hug the hillside and cover the favela with “Canute” inevitability.
He was infuriating she thought, but fearless beyond reason even to the point of insanity. How he expected to find and then free Snowy and then escape with him unharmed, she did not know. He was crazy. He was infuriating. She shook for a moment with annoyance. The favela was a dangerous place. He would surely die and Snowy too, of course. The thought settled in her mind like a thrown sack of animal feed hitting the deck of a truck.
The taxi was still. Bruno broke the silence. ‘I will turn around,’ he said. ‘We can wait there with the lights off. Nobody will see us.’ He motioned a hand over his shoulder, only visible as a grainy object and pointed outside at the black hillside. Whether he was just wishing it so or whether there really existed a discreet parking place Grace could not tell. ‘I will lock the doors.’ Grace heard the central locking clunk and then the whir of the engine as Bruno reversed. He pulled forward a short distance before stopping carefully where he imagined the safe spot to be. He then switched off the lights but chose to leave the engine running. The permeating darkness caused Grace to shiver.
‘Lend me your phone,’ she said in perfect Portuguese. Bruno turned in his seat and peered at her through the gloom.
‘Your Portuguese is very good,’ he said with honest praise.
‘Lend me your phone,’ she repeated assertively. Bruno shook his head. ‘I will pay you.’
‘How much w
ill you pay?’ he asked. Grace placed her hand inside her blouse and using her fingers pulled from inside her lacy brassiere one neatly folded Brazilian banknote. It was the highest denomination.
‘I will pay this much,’ she said and held up the note while she unfolded it allowing Bruno to see the amount. It was a large sum. Bruno swallowed and realised his throat was dry. Grace held the note and waited patiently. A few more seconds passed. Bruno’s hand went to the breast pocket of his shirt. Grace watched him take the banknote from her fingers and then pass her his phone. She took it and immediately dialled Marsh’s number from memory.
‘Who are you calling?’ Bruno asked. Grace ignored the question and held the phone to her ear. She listened to the ringing tone. Why did he not answer? The reason could only be that he did not recognise the number. Marsh was an idiot she reminded herself. Grace cancelled the call and then idly tapped a long finger against her thigh while she thought. Firstly, she sent him a message and wondered whether he would read it and then secondly, she dialled another number. Again, it was from memory. This time, the call found an answer.
‘Hello,’ said the woman coolly.
‘Hello C.,’ said Grace. ‘Can you tell me what’s going on, please?’ Charlotte allowed herself a small smile. The call from Grace was expected. It meant events were progressing as Charlotte had anticipated.
‘Is there a problem?’ Charlotte asked.
‘He’s one of yours, isn’t he? I know Meriwether sent him and I know Meriwether pays for him, but he’s one of your “specials”, isn’t he?’ Grace was displeased, but her voice disguised it well. ‘You use him for your “under the radar” activities, don’t you? What is it the Americans call them, “black operations”?’
‘Grace, it’s lovely to hear from you,’ Charlotte said, ‘but I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Grace ignored Charlotte’s rebuttal. ‘Well, I don’t know whether you’re interested, but he’s about to get himself killed.’ Grace paused. She waited, but Charlotte did not speak. ‘He’s exactly how you like them: self-sufficient, intelligent, strong and best of all reliable. Are you sleeping with him?’