Chasing Dreams

by Susan Lewis

He looked at her and knew that if she were even half as afraid as he was then it was his strength she needed now, not his bitterness. So putting a hand to the bar he waited for her to do the same and linking their fingers together he said, ‘He’s going to be OK. I’ll make sure of it.’

  Those final words were still echoing through his ears as Mara drove him back through the town to the shelter. He just wished to God he had even a fraction of the confidence they had seemed to convey, for the fact that Michelle hadn’t known where the depositions were was scaring the hell out of him. All he could hope for now was that Sister Lydia would come through, or he didn’t even want to think about what it was going to mean to Cavan.

  It was just after one o’clock when Michael got back to the hotel. Collecting his messages, two of which were from the office, the other from Chris Ruskin in New York, he went straight to his room and picked up the phone to call Chambers.

  ‘By the time you get to the door,’ Chambers told him, ‘I should be right outside.’

  Replacing the receiver, Michael unlatched the door, then went to take two beers from the fridge. As he opened them Chambers walked in, threw his cellphone and keys on the bed and went to stare out of the window as Michael told him about his visit with Michelle and the wasted trip to the shelter.

  ‘Sister Lydia insists she doesn’t know where Antônio is,’ he said, ‘and frankly I believe her. It was a long shot anyway, but I had to try it and now I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do.’

  ‘Take it easy,’ Chambers said, turning back into the room. ‘It’s not as grim as it looks. Marcelo, the gang leader I told you about, made contact this morning.’

  Michael’s eyes widened. ‘Does he know where the depositions are?’ he said.

  ‘No and I didn’t expect him to. But he’s pretty certain he knows where Antônio is.’

  Michael choked on his beer. ‘So what are we waiting for?’ he cried.

  Chambers put up a hand. ‘Confirmation,’ he replied. ‘He’s heard that they’re holding Antônio over at the Leblon lock-up. He’s checking to make sure and is going to get back to me some time in the next couple of hours. The other piece of good news is there’s a chance Michelle might be out some time tomorrow.’

  Michael stared at him in amazement. ‘Are you serious?’ he said. ‘You mean that joke of a lawyer managed to pull it off?’

  ‘Him – and the fifteen grand,’ Chambers responded. ‘And the fact that they’re probably now taking the view that if they let her go, she might just be stupid enough to lead them to the depositions. Anyway, whatever they’re thinking, our priority is still Cavan. Did Michelle know he’d been taken?’

  Michael shook his head.

  Chambers looked surprised. ‘I thought they’d have used it as a means of persuasion,’ he said, picking up his cellphone as it started to ring, ‘which just goes to show they’re not as bright as they think they are. Tom Chambers,’ he said into the phone.

  As he listened to the voice at the other end Michael was about to turn away when Chambers’s head suddenly came up, his eyes shining with excitement. ‘OK,’ he said, looking at Michael. ‘I got it. Thanks for letting me know. Keep in touch,’ and clicking off the phone he said, ‘Antônio was at the Leblon lock-up. They released him ten minutes ago.’

  Michael felt his adrenalin starting to thump. ‘So where is he now? Can we talk to him?’

  ‘Not yet. He’ll be on his way to the shelter or the café, so he should get the messages we left any time in the next half-hour. If they didn’t tell Michelle they were holding Cavan, it’s doubtful they told Antônio, so he won’t know the urgency of getting in touch until someone tells him. He will, though; in fact, there’s a chance he could be on his way over here. We’ll just have to sit it out and wait, which is no bad thing, because there’s something I’ve got to discuss with you and the quicker we get to it, the quicker we can make some decisions. Did you eat yet today?’

  Michael shook his head.

  ‘Good,’ Chambers responded and picking up the hotel phone, he ordered a feijoada for two.

  ‘A what?’ Michael asked when he rang off.

  ‘Feijoada,’ he repeated. ‘It’s tradition, everyone eats feijoada on Saturdays and I’m famished. Oh, it’s kind of black beans and stewed beef and God knows what else they throw in. We’ll skip on the caipirinhas, though, we need to keep a clear head.’ As he finished, his phone started ringing again. ‘Tom Chambers,’ he barked into it. ‘Yeah, I got a call from Marcelo,’ he said. ‘No, I didn’t hear anything yet. You bet,’ and he rang off. ‘One of Marcelo’s people checking to make sure we knew Antônio was released,’ he explained. ‘So, where were we?’

  ‘There was something you had to discuss with me,’ Michael reminded him.

  Chambers’s energy rush seemed to dip, as he moved his eyes to Michael and narrowed them thoughtfully. ‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘I just hope you’re up to dealing with it.’

  Michael’s insides churned at the note of portent that had crept into Chambers’s voice. ‘If you’ve heard something about Cavan,’ he said …

  ‘Nothing,’ Chambers said, cutting him off. ‘If I had, I’d have told you by now. But we’ve got to deal with reality here – there’s just under five hours to go now before the deadline’s up and so far we don’t have the first idea whether we’re going to be able to meet it. But say we can,’ he continued forcefully as Michael made to interrupt. ‘Say Antônio does come through with the depositions, there’s still every chance Pastillano’s going to try double-crossing us and take the stuff without handing Cavan over.’

  Michael was staring at him hard. ‘What are you getting to?’ he said.

  ‘What I’m getting to,’ Chambers said, ‘is that unless they give us some proof Cavan’s alive, there’s no point in us going to the trouble of handing the depositions over.’

  Michael’s jaw hardened as a bolt of fear dipped through his heart. The possibility that Cavan might already be dead was one he was living with every minute of the day and speaking it aloud made it no easier to handle. ‘And just how are you proposing we get the proof?’ he asked.

  ‘They’ve got to call to set up a meet,’ Chambers replied. ‘We put it to them then.’

  Michael took a moment with that, then said, ‘I don’t know how they’re going to do it, but if they do prove he’s alive? What then?’

  ‘We want him handed back at the exact same time as we give the documents over,’ Chambers said. ‘Of course, the problem with that is, they might well end up killing us all.’

  ‘Holy Christ,’ Michael murmured. ‘Is there any way we’re going to come out on top of this, because if there is, it’s sure eluding me.’

  ‘I’ve got to admit we still don’t have much going for us,’ Chamber confessed, ‘but we could change that.’

  Michael frowned, then felt his insides freeze as the phone suddenly rang. Picking it up he looked at Chambers as he said hello.

  ‘Michael, it’s Chris Ruskin here,’ said the voice at the other end. ‘Did you get my message?’

  Biting down hard on his frustration, Michael said, ‘Yeah, I’m sorry, things are getting complicated here and right now is a bad time, Chris.’

  ‘Well, whatever’s happening there,’ Ruskin said, ‘I think you should get yourself back here pretty pronto, because something very strange is going down with World Wide and …’

  ‘You’ll have to handle it,’ Michael broke in. ‘There’s no way I can leave here right now.’

  Ruskin started to protest, but as the second line started to ring, Michael cut him off.

  ‘Yeah, he’s right here,’ Chambers was saying into the other phone. ‘I’ll pass you over,’ and blocking the mouthpiece with his palm he said, ‘Now’s your chance. Remember, we need proof.’

  Michael’s head started to spin and as he took the phone his insides turned hot with misgiving. He’d had no time to think this out, had not a single clue what he was going to say.

  ‘Mr McCann?�
��

  Michael’s heart stopped beating. It was the same softly spoken voice as before. ‘Yes,’ he replied.

  ‘Do you have the documents yet?’ the voice asked.

  Michael was thinking fast and praying he was going to come up with the right answers. ‘Yes,’ he lied. ‘At least we know where they are.’

  ‘That is good. I will call you again at six to give you instructions on where to take them.’

  ‘No! No, hang on,’ Michael shouted. ‘I want some proof my brother’s alive, or there’s no deal.’

  There was a brief silence at the other end, before the voice said, ‘You are prepared to take that risk, Mr McCann?’

  ‘There is no risk if he’s already dead,’ Michael replied. His head and heart were in such chaos now he barely knew what he was saying. He’d never been a gambler, but here he was, trying to bluff it out for his brother’s life and not having the first idea what he had to call on next.

  ‘Your brother is alive, you have my word on that,’ he was told.

  ‘Not good enough,’ Michael said. ‘I want proof.’

  ‘You want me to bring him to the phone?’

  ‘You can do that, but what guarantee do I have that you won’t kill him straight after? I want to see him.’

  Chambers was staring at him hard.

  ‘You will see him when you hand the papers over, Mr McCann,’ the voice told him and the line went dead.

  ‘Damn!’ Michael muttered, as he slammed down the phone.

  ‘You did good,’ Chambers told him.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Michael said angrily. ‘I could have spoken to him! They offered that and I fucked it up by saying I wanted to see him. Jesus Christ,’ he seethed, turning away. ‘Why the hell did I do that?’

  ‘If they offered to bring him to the phone, then we can be pretty certain he’s still alive,’ Chambers pointed out.

  Michael’s head was still bowed as finally he nodded. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But think about it. I just told them we’ve got the depositions which is an outright lie; and I’ve let them know we’re not stupid enough to trust them to hand Cavan back as soon as they’ve got the papers. They could have been counting on our stupidity and now I’ve just alerted them into thinking their strategy through even further.’

  ‘Or you’ve got them worried,’ Chambers countered. ‘Listen, they’ve got to have figured out for themselves by now that we’re not just going to let those papers go without some kind of insurance …’

  ‘I don’t see that we’ve got any choice,’ Michael butted in. ‘It’s the only chance we have of getting him back …’

  ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you just now,’ Chambers said. ‘It’s not the only chance. The alternative isn’t perfect, it’s true, but right now it’s the only alternative we’ve got. Are you ready to listen?’

  Michael nodded.

  ‘The guy I told you about at the US Embassy in Brasilia got back to me this morning. Apparently there’s this couple, husband and wife, living right here in Rio, under the names Rita and Carmelo Ferrante. The Embassy didn’t come right out and say so, but my reading of the situation is these guys are a couple of ex-federal agents who probably infiltrated the mafia or some whacko terrorist group or something and are living under assumed names now. I stopped by to see them on my way back here, and the bottom line is they’ve agreed to come in and help.’

  Michael’s face was white. ‘Just exactly what are you saying?’ he said.

  ‘What I’m saying is the three of us discussed it and we’re all of the opinion that the only sure-fire way of getting Cavan out, depositions or no depositions, is to go in and get him.’

  Michael stared at him as though he had lost his mind. ‘You mean stage a raid like we were the marines or the SAS?’ he responded scathingly. ‘Because of course we’ve got the training, haven’t we?’

  ‘These guys do,’ Chambers cut in.

  ‘OK, but aren’t you forgetting something? Like, we don’t even know where the god-damned place is.’

  ‘But we’re going to find out,’ Chambers responded. ‘Whether it’s today, tomorrow or a week from now, we’re going to find out. And when we do, what then? Knock on the door and politely ask for his return? This is the only way, Michael. The Ferrantes have done this kind of thing before, plenty of times they tell me, and they’re willing to come in and help us out, providing you’re for it. He’s your brother, so you get final say.’

  Michael’s eyes were trained on him hard as he did a rapid run-through of all the possible ramifications he could think of to this new proposal. In the end, as Chambers’s cellphone rang, he said, ‘OK, I’m for it.’

  Putting a hand on his shoulder, Chambers picked up his phone. He listened for a few seconds, then, with a triumphant light in his eye as he looked at Michael he said, ‘Good man. Can I speak to him? Sure, I’ll be right there,’ and clicking off the line he said to Michael, ‘That was Roméro, at the café. Antônio just showed up.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘What time did that guy say he’d call back?’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘OK, that gives us four and a half hours. God knows if it’s going to be enough, but we better start by getting the Ferrantes over here to talk to you, while I go pick up the depositions from Antônio. Just pray God he’s got them, or knows where the hell they are.’

  Michael looked at him and knowing how utterly hamstrung he’d be without him, wished there were a way he could express his appreciation without embarrassing them both. But there wasn’t, so instead he said, ‘What’s wrong with getting Antônio to bring the depositions here? If he’s got them.’

  ‘They’re almost sure to be watching him,’ Chambers responded, picking up his keys, ‘which is probably why he didn’t come straight here. Of course, I’m only guessing, but the boy’s a long way from stupid and if he does have the depositions, or knows where they are, he’ll be as mindful as anyone of just how god-damned precious they are.’

  ‘So how are you going to get them? If he is being watched,’ Michael asked.

  ‘That’s a good question,’ Chambers replied. ‘Why don’t we put it to the experts?’ and clicking on the phone he called the Ferrantes’ Copacabana number.

  ‘OK,’ he said a few minutes later. ‘Carmelo, the husband, is on his way over here to start getting detail from you, while I go over there to pick up Rita, the wife, who’s coming with me to visit Antônio. So it looks pretty much like we’re about to put this show on the road,’ and with a wry tilt of his eyebrows, he pulled open the door and came face to face with a room service waiter and the feijoada he now had no time to eat.

  From the instant Ferrante walked in the door Michael could feel his confidence level rising. He was a short, stocky man, with muscles like granite, skin like a lunarscape and a New York accent that was as rough as the streets he had come from. It was clear, as soon as he started talking, that he was as unfazed by the task ahead as he was serious about accomplishing it. And with his unnervingly direct eye and straightforward talk, he didn’t leave much room for doubt that he would. He wasted no time in giving Michael a run-down on the information he’d been given, then set to work on getting whatever else Michael had to offer.

  By the time an hour was up both men had a healthy respect for each other and an optimism that was as quietly understated as it was well-founded. Chambers had called from the café to inform them that they could be about to get the biggest break of all, as not only did Antônio know where the depositions were, but he had actually found himself in the lock-up with an ex-inmate of the Inferno, who knew an ex-member of a rival death squad who might just know the whereabouts of Pastillano’s prison for a couple of hundred bucks.

  ‘OK, it sounds a bit of a run-around,’ Chambers had said, ‘but when you consider how long we’ve been working on finding this place, which is months before you got here, then remember, this is the closest we’ve come. So conclude here that when needs must, life delivers. Or maybe it’s when Pastillano panics, lieutenants fuck up, bec
ause he should have been told who Antônio was banged up with, but obviously wasn’t. It could turn out to be the sonofabitch’s Waterloo. Providing, of course, this ex-death squad low-life turns out to be on the level. We’ll keep you posted.’

  There had been no communication since, and with Michael’s debriefing over there was nothing for him and Ferrante to do but sit and wait. Michael considered ringing Chris Ruskin in New York, but whatever problems Ruskin and World Wide were facing right now there was nothing he could do and besides, he really didn’t need the distraction.

  Each minute seemed endless as he and Ferrante took turns walking about the room, going out on to the balcony to take in the view, or just lie on the bed staring at CNN. It was during a sudden newsflash of how former British actress, Michelle Rowe, was expected to be released from prison in Brazil within the next couple of hours, with all charges against her dismissed, that the telephone rang again.

  Still staring at the screen Michael picked it up.

  ‘Hello? Seu Michael? Is Franco, the concierge. Your car is here.’

  Michael frowned and looked at Ferrante. ‘What car?’ he asked.

  ‘The car you order?’ Franco answered uncertainly. ‘Not car from hotel, different car. You not satisfied with car from hotel? We can change. Is no problem …’

  ‘I didn’t order a car,’ Michael interrupted.

  Franco’s confusion was almost audible. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I have message to say your car is here. You want that I send it away?’

  ‘Hang on,’ Michael replied and putting his hand over the receiver, he related the conversation to Ferrante.

  Ferrante crossed to the balcony and looked down at the street below. The view to the reception was obstructed by the pool terrace. Turning back he said, ‘Tell him you’ll be right down,’ then picking up the remote control he flicked off the TV and checked the gun in his waistband.

  ‘It could be just a mistake,’ he said, his pock-marked face and muscular body seeming to harden before Michael’s eyes. ‘I doubt it, though. What I reckon is it’s a couple of Pastillano’s operatives come to take you for a ride.’