Brazil (20 page)

It was early in the afternoon the next day and the tables of the Casa Bahia were quiet. The lunchtime crowd had drifted away, leaving only two men sitting in the corner, chatting animatedly with each other over glasses of beer. One was a broad-shouldered
carioca
wearing a leather jacket; the other was a lively British man.

The door opened and a Brazilian teenager walked uncertainly into the restaurant. At the sight of the boy, the British man’s face lit up. Rising to his feet, he warmly embraced him.

‘Luiz!’ Richard Madison exclaimed, slapping him on the back. ‘Was I glad to hear that you’d phoned!’

‘I guess,’ Luiz replied uncertainly.

From the other side of the table, Juan Oliveira leaned over and shook his hand.

‘Very impressive work, my friend,’ the policeman said. ‘You ever think about a job with the police?’

Luiz shook his head. ‘I think I’ve had enough of that kind of thing. I don’t want to see another gun as long as I live.’

‘Wise words,’ Madison said, ushering Luiz into a chair and beckoning to the waitress for another coffee. He continued, in a low undertone, ‘It really is a bloody miracle you’re alive. When we heard about you and Valerie, and then the CORE raid on Santa Marta, we feared the worst. What happened to the Comando Negro?’

‘Most of them died,’ Luiz said bluntly. ‘The rest fled or got arrested by CORE.’

‘So that’s it?’ asked Madison. ‘After all that – there was no mysterious Doctor? It was Angel all along?’

Luiz shrugged. ‘Well, it definitely wasn’t Cruz. He wanted the Comando Negro out of Santa Marta so he could develop on the land. And if he wasn’t the Doctor, then I guess it had to be Angel. Either way, the Comando Negro are finished. Now they’re not strong enough to defend the
favela
, another gang will move in for sure. By the end of the week, it’ll be the Compadres’ cocaine on sale at Santa Marta
boca
. Or Quarto Comando’s.’

Mentioning the other gangs made Luiz think of Dog. He wondered whether the little boy would eventually become the new Angel, in charge of Santa Marta. It wouldn’t have surprised him. In the Rio
favelas
, there were always new gang members, new
donos
to take the place of those who fell by the wayside.

As the waitress placed a coffee down beside him, Luiz unhooked the gold crucifix from around his neck and tossed it across the table to Madison.

‘Guess I won’t be needing this any more,’ he said. ‘I’ve kept my side of the bargain – now what about Ana?’

Madison grinned. ‘Fair’s fair. Darius is on the phone as we speak. Your little sister should be out of jail by the end of the day.’ Glancing at Luiz, his smile faded. ‘I thought you might be a bit happier to hear that news.’

‘No, I am happy… it’s just…’ Luiz searched for the right words, but failed. ‘It’s been a tough time, you know?’ he said finally.

‘Yes, of course.’ Madison nodded. ‘Listen, it’s going to take Darius a bit of time to do his thing. Why don’t we have some food while we’re here? I’ve heard the menu’s uncommonly good and I’m starving.’

‘Music to my ears,’ a voice said smoothly behind them.

Luiz looked up to see a small man standing over their table, impeccably dressed in a crisp blue shirt and suit trousers, his face graced by an elegantly trimmed beard. Luiz recognized him from the stake-out of the Casa Bahia – it was Ivan Fernandes, owner of the restaurant.

Fernandes gave Oliveira a polite nod. ‘Good afternoon, sir. I’m delighted to have such a valued customer visiting us again.’

‘I bet you are, Ivan,’ the policeman replied drily. ‘The amount of money I spend here, I should be a partner. How’s the crab today?’

‘We had a fresh delivery this morning,’ replied Fernandes with a smile. ‘Sadly, I have a pressing engagement at home, but rest assured that Marissa here will take good care of you.’

As the pretty waitress smiled shyly and took out her pad, Fernandes bowed and left the table. Luiz stood up.

‘I’m going to the toilet,’ he said.

‘Are you not going to order anything?’ Oliveira asked. ‘The food really is good here, you know?’

‘Maybe later,’ Luiz said. ‘I’m not hungry right now.’

Moving away from the table, he disappeared down the dark passageway that led to the toilets. After the fighting and the bloody deaths he had witnessed, the last thing Luiz wanted to do was eat. All he wanted was to get Ana back and go home.

Beyond the main restaurant, the Casa Bahia was a warren of corridors and passageways. Finally locating the toilets, Luiz splashed water on his face and wearily rubbed his eyes. On his way back to the table, he got completely lost, pushing through a door only to find himself standing outside, in a loading bay behind the building. A pile of empty crates had been stacked up outside the back door, having been unloaded of their cargo: ingredients, Luiz supposed, maybe the fresh crab Fernandes had mentioned a moment ago in the restaurant.

As his eyes flicked over the crates, Luiz noticed that a giant crack was running along the side of one of them. He ran a finger down the crack, astonished. It looked exactly like the crate Livio had dropped the day before – only then it had been filled with packages of cocaine. It seemed impossible, but it had to be the same one. When CORE had attacked Santa Marta, Angel had ordered that the crates be taken back to the holding warehouse downtown. So what in God’s name was one now doing outside the Casa Bahia?

As Luiz stared at the crates, Jordan’s words about the Doctor ran through his mind:
Maybe he’s a legitimate businessman, someone with a good reason to have trucks going back and forth across the border
. A chill ran down Luiz’s spine. They had all been wrong. There was a Doctor, and he had met Angel at Casa Bahia, but it wasn’t Jorge Cruz. It was Ivan Fernandes.

If Luiz was right, the man they had been looking for had just walked out the front of the restaurant. He was about to rush back inside and tell Madison and Oliveira when something else caught his eye, a distinctive red mark on the floor in front of him. Blood. Frowning, Luiz touched the bloodstain. It was still warm. Whoever had bled here, they had done it recently.

Luiz turned round and found himself standing face to face with Angel.

25. Gatecrashers

‘You lying piece of shit,’ Angel said through clenched teeth. ‘Stripe was right. You are a grass.’

He hadn’t died after all. Somehow the
dono
had managed to escape from the CORE forces, but the man standing in front of Luiz wasn’t the calm, forceful gang leader Luiz had come to know. Angel was huddled up against the back wall of the restaurant, his long trench coat buttoned up in spite of the heat. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his face was streaked with tears. Angel’s pupils were unnaturally large and his movements had an edgy quality to them that suggested he had been taking a lot of drugs. He was still carrying his 12-gauge shotgun, which was aimed directly at Luiz.

Slowly, Luiz held up his hands.

‘I’m no grass, I swear!’

Without warning Angel lunged forward and smashed the butt of his gun into Luiz’s stomach. Luiz crumpled to the floor, bent double in agony.

‘Don’t lie to me,’ the
dono
hissed. ‘I saw you inside with your friends. You think I can’t tell what kind of guys they are? They’re cops! You’ve been playing us for fools all along – and we treated you like a
brother
!’

The
dono
reached down, grabbed Luiz by the hair and smacked his head on the ground. Luiz heard a sickening crack and felt shooting pains race across his skull.

‘I had no choice, Angel!’ Luiz cried out. ‘My sister… they were going to put her in prison!’

‘A sister? Really? I used to have a brother, Luiz – remember him? Remember Joker? Remember when he got shot in the throat?’ Angel’s voice cracked with hysteria.

‘That wasn’t anything to do with me, I’m telling you! I ran to Santa Marta to try and warn you!’

‘Too little, too late,’ Angel said ominously.

‘Please let me go,’ Luiz begged, looking up at the
dono
through watering eyes. ‘I won’t say anything, I promise. Everyone thinks you’re dead. You can get away – no one will know!’

‘Where do I go, Luiz? Santa Marta’s all I know. I’ve got nothing there now. Where exactly should I go, wise guy?’

‘I don’t know,’ Luiz said desperately. ‘Get out of Rio – start over somewhere new.’

Angel placed his foot on Luiz’s chest and pressed his weight down upon him, nestling the barrel of his shotgun up against the boy’s throat.

‘Here’s a better idea,’ he said conversationally. ‘I’m going to go to Ivan Fernandes’s house. I’m going to see him. Then I’m going to kill him.’

‘Kill the Doctor?’ gasped Luiz. ‘Why?’

‘Because he betrayed me, just like you did. The Doctor promised that he would protect us, that he could pay the police off so they’d leave us alone. Now Rafael’s dead and the Doctor’s still got all his money and his business and his life. So I’m going to even up the score. And you’re going to help me.’

‘Me? What can I do? I’m begging you, leave me out of this.’

‘No, no, no!’ Angel shouted emphatically, pressing his foot down harder on Luiz’s chest. ‘You are Comando Negro, Luiz! No one leaves the Comando Negro. I’m ordering you to drive me to the Doctor’s place now or, God help me, Luiz, I’ll shoot you in the head right now. Do you understand me?’

Luiz understood, all right. He nodded quickly. After a wary pause, Angel lifted up his foot, allowing Luiz to pick himself gingerly up off the ground.

‘My truck’s around the corner,’ Angel said. ‘We’ll take that.’

The
dono
prodded Luiz in the back with his shotgun, forcing him to move. As he walked away from the restaurant, Luiz remembered with a jolt that he had just given back his GPS crucifix. Without it, there was no way he could contact Madison or anyone else at Trojan. He was on his own.

Over the course of the past week Luiz had witnessed enough violence and brutality to last him a lifetime. He had seen people shot in front of his eyes and had nearly lost his own life on more than one occasion. But even after all that there was a nightmarish quality to his journey with Angel that somehow surpassed anything else he had seen.

The death of his brother had broken the
dono
, reducing a proud man to tatters. His eyes wild, he chopped up long lines of cocaine on the dashboard, unsteadily snorting them through a banknote as the truck bounced about on the uneven road surface. He was so high that he didn’t seem to care whether the police saw him, not even bothering to wipe the residue of white powder from his nose.

However, without the drugs, it was doubtful whether Angel would have still been on his feet. Even though he had survived the shoot-out with CORE, it had taken a heavy toll. At one point he winced suddenly, doubling up in pain. Looking over, Luiz saw a trickle of blood collecting at Angel’s feet.

‘Jesus!’ he cried. ‘You’re still bleeding! We have to go to the hospital!’

‘Shut up and keep driving,’ growled Angel. ‘It’s not that much further now.’

The
dono
directed him west, along the southern coastal road out of Rio. They were heading for Barra da Tijuca, a suburb that boasted some of the city’s most expensive properties. Here foreign businessmen and wealthy
cariocas
maintained luxurious houses set back from the picturesque shoreline in secure gated communities.

As Luiz drove on through the bright afternoon sunshine, Angel slumped back in his seat, staring dully at the road ahead. He seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness. If it hadn’t been for the shotgun lying menacingly in the
dono
’s lap, Luiz would have been tempted to pull over, or try and slip his mobile phone out of his pocket to call Richard Madison. But with Angel so unstable, it would have been suicide to try anything. All Luiz could do was pray that Madison and Oliveira had realized something had gone wrong. But even if they had, he wasn’t sure what they could do about it.

Things were looking bleak. If the worst happened and he died, would Trojan tell his family how and why? He very much doubted it. Would Luiz’s foster parents and Ana spend the rest of their lives not knowing whether he was alive or not? Would they think that he had just walked out on them?

‘Pull over here,’ Angel muttered.

Luiz stopped the truck at the side of the road. To his left, a paved driveway ran up towards a set of high metal railings. Through the gaps in the bars, he could see a palatial stucco house painted gleaming white. Two men in security outfits were standing guard either side of the gates.

‘What are we going to do now?’ Luiz asked. ‘How do we get past the gates?’

Angel made an impatient sound.

‘We’re in a truck, aren’t we? Put your foot down and drive through them!’

‘What? Even if we make it through the gates, those guys are armed, Angel!’

‘It’s up to you,’ Angel replied coldly, levelling his shotgun. ‘You can die over there or die right here.’

‘Listen,’ Luiz tried desperately. ‘We know that Fernandes is the Doctor. Let me call the police. I know people who can keep you out of jail. It’ll be all right, I promise.’

‘Drive!’ Angel bellowed.

Gritting his teeth, Luiz jammed his foot down on the accelerator. As the truck suddenly lurched towards the gates, the security guards waved frantically for it to slow down, fumbling for their weapons. Before they could fire a shot, the truck bounced in between them and crashed headlong into the gates.

The gates buckled and flew open, the impact sending Luiz flying painfully into his steering wheel. As he cried out, the truck veered wildly to the left, crashing into a low wall that ran alongside the driveway. Before the wheels had stopped spinning, Angel had climbed out of the truck and begun firing at the guards. As one of them fell, the other began sprinting down the main road. Angel turned away, instantly dismissing him.

The echo of the last gunshot faded away, leaving the estate in a state of eerie quiet.

Angel strode round to the driver’s seat and dragged Luiz out of the car. ‘Come on – we’re not done yet.’ Reaching into his waistband, the
dono
tossed Luiz a pistol. ‘Here. You’ll need this.’