A Darkening Stain (30 page)

It started raining as I came across the lagoon, hard, tropical African rain, so that I had to slow to a crawl under the drilling. It was no better when I pulled up alongside the wall to Marnier's back yard. I could barely make out the edge of the lagoon beyond the rods of rain. Thunder boomed and tumbled across the invisible night sky.

I put the gun down the back of my trousers, stepped up on to the roof of the car, slung a mat across the broken glass and climbed over the wall. I was instantly drenched. The lights from the back of the house were a blur in the darkness. I splashed across the yard and up the steps. From under the leaking thatch I took a look in at the Marnier family.

Jean-Luc was sitting at one end of the dining table, which was set for two. He had a newspaper laid out and he was smoking over it as if he was studying form. There was a bottle of Red Label and a glass at his elbow. Water plinked into a bucket set on a dining room chair at the other end of the table where a mobile phone lay on its back. Carole sat on the sofa, out of her sheath now, and into some tight jeans, a T-shirt and cardy. She was reading a book whose cover had a raven-haired girl running away from something I couldn't see, but had to be a big bad man.

Dinner was cooking in the kitchen. The door was open behind the fly screen. I flipped the latch on the screen door with my car key. I squeezed and shook as much water out of my clothes as I could. I raised the Browning, stepped into the kitchen and waited. The rain hardened.

Carole said something to Marnier over the back of the sofa. Marnier nodded in the direction of the kitchen. Carole sighed and got to her feet. I held the gun out at throat height and Carole turned straight into it, her eyes widened and her mouth popped to the usual ‘o'. Not a squeak from her though, and even if there had been Marnier wouldn't have heard it over the roar of the rain on the
ondulé,

I turned her and walked her back into the living room. Marnier glanced up as if expecting her to give him something. His head stilled and his eyes went this way and that. I pushed her to the table and told her to pull out a chair. I sat down and pulled her on to my lap, resting the gun muzzle on her neck where it made red pressure circles. I jammed her left arm under mine and grabbed hold of her right wrist. I pointed the gun across at Marnier and looked down the barrel into his good eye.

‘You know what this is?' I asked.

‘If you're asking me what make the gun is, it's a Browning, a .380 I'd say. But if you're asking me to explain this situation ... I can't. Maybe you should.'

‘You know a lot about guns.'

‘I was trained. Since then they've become a part of my profession.'

‘You know what's special about this gun?'

‘I'd like you to tell me it isn't loaded.'

‘It's loaded,' I said, ‘and it's the gun Franconelli gave me to kill you with.' The rain filled in the silence, the leak into the bucket quickened.

‘And?' said Marnier.

I dropped the gun to my side, let go of Carole and gave her a little shove in the back towards Marnier. She stood behind his chair and rubbed her neck where the cold wet metal had made its marks.

‘As you've probably guessed from your deep well of understanding about these things ... I'm not in the killing business.'

‘What business are you in?' asked Marnier, still careful.

‘The selling your gold business.'

‘Selling?' asked Marnier, nodding at the gun resting on my leg. ‘You only need guns if you're stealing.'

The mobile at the end of the table let out a trill that pierced the thunder of the rain on the roof and jerked our heads round. I nodded at Carole. She picked it up, listened and handed it to Marnier.

‘Monsieur Le Commandant...' he said, and listened intently. A smile spread across his face which, confused by the scars, turned into a leer. He nodded, staring into the newsprint spread out on the table. He made affirmative and delighted grunts. He finished by saying how pleased he was by the development and that they should meet in the morning to discuss the fine-tuning of the transfer. He switched the phone off, stabbed the aerial into the palm of his hand.

‘Gold,' he said. ‘You were saying...'

‘Was that Bondougou calling you to say he had your contract for you now? Telling you the Nigerians are in a position to make the first down payment on the barracks, the hospital ... whatever's coming first?'

Jean-Luc Marnier was not in the habit of looking astonished. Astonishment was for girls. Marnier was the one who always knew. He was the one who controlled situations, he was the one who astonished others with his cunning and sophistication, his genius and brutality. Now, twice in one evening I'd thrown him and he gave me a nod of about three microns of respect.

‘How do you know about that, Bruce?'

‘He told me.'

‘He
told
you?'

‘When I told him I had to kill you for Franconelli. You see, Jean-Luc, something you might not know about Bondougou ... he's a Franconelli man. And, as you know, Franconelli is not someone you take lightly. How do you think I got out of jail ... insufficient evidence ... run along, Brucey? It's not how that kind of thing works.'

‘I see,' he said, leaning back in his chair, rolling his head on his neck to ease the tension.

‘Who do you think's more important ... long term ... to Bondougou?' I asked. ‘Jean-Luc Marnier or Roberto Franconelli?'

Carole started to rub his neck. He shook her off.

‘It's not something Le Commandant is going to have to flip a coin over, is it, Jean-Luc?'

‘Why are you telling me this?'

‘He's also very interested in your gold,' I said. ‘I'm sorry about that but I had to give him a carrot. He's got a very suspicious nature when it comes to me.'

‘You told him about my
gold,
” said Marnier, the anger building.

‘I had to.'

‘It doesn't sound to me as if you
are
in the business of selling gold. Maybe you should clarify what business you are in.'

‘To tell the truth, Jean-Luc, and I'll know you'll know I'm not lying, I'm in the schoolgirl business.'

That didn't exactly knock him back in his chair but it made him raise his head and give me a long, electric look from his good eye. Carole hit the wall behind him as if she'd taken a crossbow bolt in the chest. It didn't seem possible, but the rain intensified its roar so that she looked up, hoping the roof could take it. The plinking in the bucket evened to a steady trickle. Marnier's forgotten cigarette was now down to his fingers. He felt its sharp sting, tossed it into the ashtray and lit another.

‘Yes,' I said, ‘that's the business I'm in and, like any business, the better your information the easier it is to proceed. Bondougou and I are the only ones who know all three elements of the deal. The buyer, the seller and the intermediary. We're also the only ones who know the real terms of the deal. Who's going to get what for doing which work. This is a dirty business, Jean-Luc, maybe even dirtier than the drugs business, which has that built-in nastiness to make sure people don't get too many ideas of their own and start using them. I don't think
this
business is
that
different. Some people aren't going to get out of this alive. I've decided I want to and I've decided that you and the schoolgirls are going to survive with me, but we're going to have to work together and there's only one way this deal is going to happen and that's my way.'

‘I'm listening,' said Marnier.

‘It'll take a glass of something to get this out,' I said.

Carole slid a glass across. Marnier filled it and his own. The rain eased for a moment and came back louder. Thunder crumpled the air and thudded overhead loud enough to judder the window panes.

‘Bondougou hasn't got a contract. There's never going to be a contract with the name Jean-Luc Marnier or Cote Oueste Sari on it. The buyer of the schoolgirls is not primarily in prostitution but in the construction business. The buyer has been guaranteed those Public Works contracts you're so interested in. You are never going to get anything from it and as far as Bondougou is concerned you'll get nothing for your gold either. As far as he's concerned you'll get a bullet from me ... from Franconelli. And I'll probably get a bullet from him too ... maybe, even that will have come from Franconelli as well. And Bondougou will walk with your gold money and his share of the construction contract.'

‘He just told me he's been sent a signed contract and a four-million-dollar downpayment.'

‘In cash, in a Samsonite suitcase delivered to your door? You've been holding those girls a long time, Jean-Luc. It must have been a big worry.'

Marnier drew on his cigarette. It didn't ease the tension that the last week had knotted into his neck. His need for the deal to work had weakened him. Marnier's ego wasn't used to this kind of pressure, the pressure of the unknown.

‘What do you want out of this?' he asked.

‘I just want the schoolgirls.'

‘I told Bondougou that was a big mistake.'

‘What?'

‘Taking your friend's daughter. I knew that was trouble, mixing the personal with business.'

‘That's why I want Bondougou killed as part of the deal.'

‘What do I get for doing all this...? Apart from your word that you're not going to shoot me with that.'

‘You know I'm not going to shoot you,' I said. ‘What you get is your gold and the money for it too ... and your freedom.'

‘How?'

‘You're going to have to kill the person who's going to buy your gold.'

‘That could have some nasty repercussions, depending on the buyer you've got lined up.'

‘The buyer's the same one who's supposed to take the schoolgirls off your hands.'

He took a long pensive drag and let the smoke seep out of him.

‘Who's that?' he asked.

‘I thought Bondougou would still be holding that card.'

‘We all have our cards.'

‘Only you know where the schoolgirls are.'

‘Exactly,' he said, and drank some more, the strength flowing back into him as he remembered his ace.

‘There are a number of problems.'

‘Does Bondougou know you're interested in the schoolgirls?'

‘Yes, but he doesn't know how warm I am. He doesn't even know that I've found you.'

‘What happens if your name comes up in conversation between him and the buyer. The whole deal's blown then.'

‘That's the reason I told him about the gold; I'm hoping it'll take his eye off the ball. He'll want to keep that for himself. But even if I do come up in conversation, even if the buyer has found out about my real interest, I'm sure the buyer will still want to do the gold deal and I'll be there when it all happens.'

‘Unless the buyer decides to kill you beforehand.'

‘That would only happen if Bondougou told the buyer about the gold deal and that you were the seller. I don't think he'll do that.'

‘OK, so what are the problems?'

‘Bondougou wants to do the schoolgirl deal
before
the gold deal. He wants to get his cut from the construction projects
and
the money from the gold.'

‘If Bondougou doesn't know that the buyer for the girls and the gold are the same then we can do the two deals back to back.'

‘You're going to have to tell him that. Give him a good reason.'

‘I'll tell him I have something else to sell in Nigeria and I don't want to make two trips. I'll assure him that we're going to do the girls first and then it'll be a matter of waiting around for half an hour to do the second deal.'

‘I've got another problem at my end. The buyer's going to be very suspicious if both deals happen on the same night in the same location.'

‘Ah,' said Marnier. ‘Psychology. Your buyer will tell
you
the deals are going to be done this way.'

‘Go on.'

‘Your buyer wants delivery in Nigeria. I only want to deliver in Benin.
Une impasse.
You can talk about the difficulties and danger of moving gold across land borders, how we don't have the right contacts on either side, how for ... what did you say he was going to pay?'

‘I didn't.'

‘Well?'

‘Three-fifty-five dollars an ounce delivered Lagos.'

‘You know what the market is?' he said, fast and angry.

‘Thirteen dollars above that.'

‘
Putain merde.
You'll have to push for more. You can't give in too easily. And when the buyer won't come up any more you
say that I'm not prepared to make the necessary contacts for that kind of money. Three-fifty-five an ounce ... my God. Then maybe you throw in the possibility of doing something on the lagoon. It's quieter out there. I think your buyer will see the beauty of it. Maybe if you're clever you can get your buyer to propose it even.'

‘Where are the deals going to take place?'

‘Why do you need to know?'

‘Because,' I said, holding up the Browning, ‘I'd like to deliver this there in advance. I should think Bondougou's knowledge of your character might make him cautious.'

Marnier pointed to a drawer in the dining table. Carole opened it and laid out a detailed map of the lagoon system up to and including the Nigerian border.

‘Where'd you get this from?'

‘You'd be surprised what you can dig out in Paris.
L'Institut Géographique National
still has a lot of maps of our ex-colonies ... all out of date but better than nothing.'

He smoothed the map out with his damaged hand and traced a line from Cotonou up the Lagune, into Lac Nokoué, on to Porto Novo and the Nigerian border. On the other side of the border was a village in the middle of the lake.