by Mark Arundel
‘Grace, if you need my assistance with something then you better tell me what it is. So far, I’m at a loss to understand the reason for your call.’
‘He’s just gone into the Vidigal favela alone to rescue Snowy. I don’t care how good he is or what kind of special British soldier he is the men in the favela, the bad men, those in the drug gang will kill him.’
‘What do you expect me to do about it?’
‘C.,’ Grace said, ‘he has my K106 with him. If you value his life, you should call him.’
‘Why would I call him?’
‘...because, C., to you he will listen.’ Without waiting for Charlotte to respond Grace ended the call. She had made her play. It was the best she could do. She knew that. Now, all she could do was to wait.
Grace looked up and saw Bruno watching her from the driver’s seat. ‘Already, he has been three minutes,’ he said with the pronouncement of a man for whom time was the most important thing. Grace turned and peered through the side window into the near darkness. A bare light bulb hanging from the closest building illuminated a doorway and a semi-circular piece of flat ground. Beyond that, the other lights Grace could see were just burning spheres like dotted beacons across a haphazard landscape of undefined shadows and dark shapes. Barking dogs intermittently broke the silence. The different volumes indicated each dog’s relative distance across the hillside. Grace shivered again. Unexpectedly she felt cold.
‘Will he come back do you think?’ Bruno asked wishing he already knew the answer. Grace turned her face away from the glass and looked at him.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
13
THURSDAY, 19:55—20:03
What is the best way to avoid confrontation in a hostile environment? After leaving Grace and Bruno behind in the taxi and walking for only ten seconds, the opportunity to test my knowledge and aptitude on the subject presented itself. I tried to remember what words of advice the army training manual had to offer. It was something to do with body language and tone of voice.
Standing on the brow of the incline ahead, smoking cigarettes and talking softly were three young men. All three were teenagers. I considered finding an alternative route, but they had already seen me. Putting the K106 out of sight inside my hip pocket, I decided to continue and brazen it out.
Where they stood, the escaping glare of a spotlight attached high on a building and pointing outwards at nothing in particular moderately lit them and lit the surrounding dirt track. An unseen dog barked nearby, but my focus remained fixed on the three youths. Unfortunately, dark clothes and a soot-covered face and arms had not turned me into the “invisible man” as I had hoped even at twilight.
Projecting a relaxed posture with my face level, eyes held straight ahead and my “funk” t-shirt to the fore, I walked towards them. They watched me approach with blank expressions. Then one of them spoke in rapid Portuguese and laughed. Whatever the joke he obviously found it funny. The other two neither spoke nor joined their companion in his laughter. I remained silent and continued to walk. When almost level with the first man the comedian of the three spoke again. This time, his laughter was much less raucous. All their eyes were on my face. A confrontation with these youths was the last thing I wanted. At the point when I was almost beyond the last man, he put out his arm to stop me and asked a question in strongly accented Portuguese. I stopped and turned my head. His hair was thick, an untidy mop and his chin sprouted patches of an unattractive bristle. I stood relaxed and remained silent. He stared at me and then repeated his question. This time, he spoke slower. He had asked me where I was going.
‘I am going to see Marsh,’ I said slowly in English. Immediately his expression altered and the demeanour of all three became less confident. The man lowered his arm and stepped back, now feigning indifference. The use of Marsh’s name had worked. Without another look, I proceeded onwards and within a few paces, the secondary glare from the spotlight was behind me. I retrieved the K106 from my hip pocket and checked the signal from Snowy’s phone. It was still transmitting from the same location.
Quickening my pace, the climb up the dirt track took me alongside a tightly packed row of homes in front of which a group of children played a game. None of them registered my presence and I hurried by unnoticed. Ahead, the track flattened and then curved away beyond the sloping ground. To my right, between the buildings, a steep pathway led in the direction I wanted. I took it and climbed the uneven gradient, some stepped and some flat, at a fast rate. Cautiously I came out at the top onto a narrow strip of level ground. There were buildings on both sides and to the front. I scouted the area thoroughly and then studied the K106. Directly ahead of me was a three-storey building of concrete construction with a single light showing on the ground floor. I checked the K106 again. The signal location from Snowy’s phone was coming from behind that building.
I searched for and found a more concealed position behind and to the side of an adjacent structure. Except for a last second reflex action the low, slanting corrugated iron roof would have taken a slice out of my head. I dropped onto my haunches and then looked around. The new position provided near obscurity from all access points.
Unsure of what lay behind the three-storey concrete building I decided to employ the satellite imaging function on the K106. It was while I was doing this that two unexpected things happened at exactly the same time.
Firstly, the K106, set to “silent”, displayed an incoming call the number of which I recognised: it was Charlotte. Secondly, the entrance door to the three-storey concrete building opened and a man stepped out, stopped and then lit a cigarette the tip of which glowed orange as he inhaled deeply. The lighter followed by the burning cigarette tip had allowed a shadowy view of the man’s ugly face. This particular ugly face was not one I had seen before.
With the smoking man’s proximity, speaking to Charlotte on the phone without the man hearing my voice was not possible. I decided to answer the call, but not to speak. Using my index finger, I tapped out “cannot talk” in Morse code and then lifted the phone to my ear, so I could hear Charlotte’s voice.
‘I assume that’s Morse code,’ she said, ‘which means for some reason you can’t talk, but how do I know it’s really you?’
In reply I tapped out “Mayfair, what do you want?”
‘As it’s only you who calls me “Mayfair” I suppose it’s you, but there’s still a sliver of doubt.’ I decided it was unnecessary for me to prove my identity any further and I just waited for Charlotte to continue and tell me the reason for her call. ‘Your inability to speak makes this difficult.’ I could almost hear Charlotte’s mind framing her next sentence. ‘If you are in a dangerous situation trying to save Snowy and there’s real risk to your own life then I want you to pull out.’ Her words surprised me and not just because of the concern for my safety, but because she somehow knew what I was doing. ‘Do you understand?’ she asked. I tapped back “yes” and then ended the call.
Charlotte’s unexpected intervention had left me with a decision to make. Did I abandon the mission and return to the taxi or did I continue with the attempt to rescue and save Snowy?
A few seconds passed while I considered during which a second man appeared walking down the track and joined the smoking man in the doorway. They spoke together quietly in Portuguese. I caught a few words, but nothing of any great help. Only when the new man turned his head and looked down the hillside while the smoking man dragged deeply that the orange glow lit his face enabling me to see him more clearly. Again, it was an ugly face, but unlike before it was an ugly face I recognised. The man was Dodge, Marsh’s partner from earlier in the day when I had had the knife fight with them outside the church. After a few more seconds, the smoking man threw down his cigarette and both he and Dodge went inside the building and closed the door.
It was now decision time.
I completed the satellite-imaging task on the K106 but found the results inconclusive, which was unhelpful. Given th
at I was so close, I decided to work my way to the rear of the three-storey concrete building and see what was there.
I selected the only side with access, came out of my hiding place and crossed the narrow strip of flat ground. I continued beyond the corner and then scrambled up into a steep gulley between the adjoining buildings. In parts, overgrown dry grasses and weeds had taken root, which made progress difficult. Using my hands for both climbing and gardening, I reached the top where I slid out onto the level, dusty earth on my stomach. It was then that I realised two things.
The first was that the three-storey concrete building had a rear extension built into the slope that made it at least twice as big as it appeared from the front, and the second was that seated on the back doorstep only a few paces from where I lay was a girl about ten years of age. Her eyes were looking down at what she held in her hands. The screen of which lit her face. The object held her total concentration. I recognised it from earlier. It was Snowy’s phone.
I tried not to ask myself too many questions. Were Snowy and his phone in the same location? Was the ten-year-old girl going to give me away to the men inside the building? I held my position and remained very still while I considered my options.
Before I could decide, the girl turned her head and looked directly at me. Her eyes were dark. They remained level and without fear. She studied me for a second or two and then seemingly unconcerned returned all her attention back to Snowy’s phone. Obviously, the sight of a man with a dirty face unexpectedly appearing on the ground beside your home was a perfectly normal occurrence in the Vidigal favela.
I stood up slowly, hoping not to spook the young “techno-lover” and then stepped lightly towards her. She looked up at me. I smiled reassuringly and stopped. She glanced back at the phone, which she held tightly with both hands, glanced at me and then jumped up and rushed into the house, leaving the door wide open.
I waited a few seconds while I listened. Would I hear the sound of approaching trouble? I heard a man’s voice, muffled and short, but nobody appeared at the open doorway.
Silently, I moved forward. At the opening, I stopped, leant my head over and guardedly peered inside. The room was dark and empty. The only light came from an open passageway in the far corner of the opposite wall. Again, I waited and listened. In the lit room at the front, it sounded as if there were at least two men. Again, it was decision time. Did I pull out now and return to the taxi or did I enter the building and search for Snowy?
I moved ahead, into the building and crossed the room to the open passageway. On the left I saw a staircase with two flights of steps, one flight went up and the other went down, and beyond that, I saw the third room. All were in darkness except for the residual illumination that leaked through the doorway of the room that contained the men. That room was to my right, so I moved left to the third room and peered inside. It was empty. That left me with the steps and a decision: which way should I go? I chose to go upwards. In worsening gloom, I stepped with as much stealth as possible, but before I had reached the top step, I knew instinctively that I had walked into danger. Automatically I stopped and listened. The low, continuous growl emanated from outside the furthest away from two closed doors and it worried me. The growl of any dog worries me, but this growl more so because it carried such depth of conviction that I knew immediately the beast making such a sound was a stickler for its duty and at that moment, its duty was me.
My vision had now adjusted to the poorer light and I could distinguish the dog’s body shape and its heavy, jaw lined head with glinting black eyes. It was a Rottweiler or some breed very similar and from the way it glared at me with teeth bared I could tell that new friends did not come easily.
The only comfort I took came from the thick rope secured at one end to a sturdy looking wall ring and at the other to a thick collar around the dog’s neck. The position of the Rottweiler told me that the importance to the men downstairs of whatever they kept behind that closed door was great. What they kept behind that closed door I did not know, but I hoped that at least one of the items was Snowy. However, finding out was likely to prove a difficult task.
The Rottweiler snarled and then growled again with growing animosity. Any second the dog-beast was likely to erupt into loud and unmistakable barking. I retreated several steps and tried to think of a plan, a quick plan.
Using the Taurus pistol in my waistband to shoot and kill the animal was the obvious solution except the gunshot was certain to bring the men running. Without knowing for sure that Snowy was inside the room it was not the course on which I wanted to embark.
The only other weapon I carried was the clasp knife, but getting close enough to inflict a deadly blow seemed questionable. It was then that The Lady smiled.
The handle of the other door turned and someone began to pull it open. I was already on the move as I saw the crack of light appear. It was a fast reflex action and it took me back down below the top step and out of sight. From there I watched silently. The person who came out was somebody I already knew. It was the girl, the ten-year-old “techno-lover” from earlier. She had come out to pet the dog. On hearing the girl’s soft words the dog-beast transformed from a snarling would-be killer into something more akin to a lapdog. With teeth put away and ears put back “Rambo”, as the girl called him, enjoyed having his neck scratched and his broad back firmly patted. He had become a docile family pet. I suspected he and the girl had been close friends for quite a number of years. It made what I had to do even harder.
Taking the clasp knife from my pocket, opening the blade and then holding it concealed I stepped forward. The moment my face appeared in the doorway light the girl saw me. Surprised, her face displayed momentary shock and Rambo pricked his ears and stood to attention. Upon recognising me the girl calmed Rambo with a few soothing words and a stroke of his large head. He relaxed but only marginally. I had stopped while I assessed the position. The girl continued to stare at me. This time, Snowy’s phone was not with her. I whispered to her in Portuguese. ‘Is Rambo a good dog?’ Unfortunately, my Portuguese was very limited. The girl nodded silently and continued to stare. Then I attempted to ask her a second question. ‘Will Rambo let me pass?’ However, with my bad Portuguese it probably came out as “Would Rambo like to dance?” Either way, it made the girl laugh. I took the opportunity to approach closer. I held the open clasp knife ready. I repeated the question and the girl laughed again. I stepped forward one more time and those few paces put me within striking distance. I focused on Rambo’s breastplate and prepared to do the deed. It was at the exact same moment that a man’s loud voice called out from the bottom of the steps in Portuguese. The girl darted past me and ran down the steps. The suddenness seemed to surprise Rambo and we looked at each other like two suitors unexpectedly abandoned by their prospective beau. Thinking quickly and before Rambo could return to the would-be killer mode I pressed down on the door handle and leant in with my weight. The door was lock free and opened instantly. I stepped inside and then hurriedly shut Rambo out before he could follow as far as his rope might allow. I hoped he would be confused enough and too busy wondering where we had gone to make too much noise.
The windowless room was in darkness. For a moment, I stood still and listened. I heard a faint shuffling sound. Taking the Zippo from my pocket, I flicked the lid and spun the ratchet. The flame ignited and sent out a flickering yellow glow that barely reached the four corners despite the smallness of the room. From what I could see, it appeared to be a storeroom. Boxes covered most of the floor space and in places raised high in orderly stacks. Whoever used the room had left a narrow passageway through which a person could access and manoeuvre allowing for removal of the boxes or for the addition of further ones.
Holding up the lighter I moved along the passageway, around a high stack of cigarette cartons and into a hidden corner. Sitting on the floor, gagged by a strip of packing tape and with his wrists and ankles tied with rope was Snowy. Despite the whiteness, never before had
I seen such relief in a man’s eyes as I saw then. Snowy shuffled on the floor and made the noise I heard when I had entered the room. I had seen the faces of men before who had believed with certainty that their death was imminent only to receive a reprieve. Snowy’s face had the same look now.
Still holding the Zippo, which was getting hot, and using the clasp knife, I cut away the ropes, which allowed a stiff Snowy to stand up. His fingers removed the strip of packing tape with care and then his face took on the appearance of an unusual entrant for the town gladness competition. ‘Thank you,’ he said simply and put his hand on my arm as if to confirm my presence was not a cruel hallucination. I gave the Zippo a rest and the sudden return to darkness made Snowy tighten his grip on my arm. After realising I had simply put out the lighter he said, ‘Thank you for saving me.’ That was the problem. So far, I had only found him. There was still a long way to go before either he or I were safe.
14
THURSDAY, 20:03—20:09
The intensity of the small, dark, box filled room permeated around us and symbolised our predicament. We were in a tight spot. Standing still for a moment, I considered the best approach for escaping the building and then the favela undetected. It was not a plan I was able to reach the end of quickly. Snowy interrupted my thoughts.
‘Why did those men abduct me?’ he asked in a whisper that combined his continued fear with his need to understand what was happening. I decided it was better if the facts of what had happened up to this point remained unknown to him. Until we were safe, I wanted his mind clear and his actions those of someone untroubled by thoughts of betrayal.