The Body in the River (20 page)

‘
And how long will these new arrangements take?
’

McBride licked his lips before answering; he knew Silver would not like the answer.
‘
Maybe a month or so, shouldn
’
t be much more.
’

Silver glared at him but his voice remained soft.
‘
You
’
d better be right, Ian; I knew we shouldn
’
t be putting all our eggs in the one basket.
’
He turned to Smith.
‘
What do you know about the woman Fleming killed?
’

‘
All we know is that she worked for
‘
im.
’

‘
What did she do?
’

‘
She worked in
‘
is office.
’

‘
I know that, you fool, but what did she do in the office? Did she have access to his financial records?
’

Smith didn
’
t reply immediately; he looked down at his hands, fidgeting in his seat. Finally, he glanced nervously at the gang boss.

‘
I don
’
t see how she could have, boss;
‘
e was supposed to deal with that
‘
imself.
’

‘
Why did he kill the woman; was he fucking her?
’

Smith was becoming more and more uncomfortable. He shrugged his shoulders.
‘
I don
’
t know, boss.
’

‘
So you don
’
t know nothing. When was the last time you spoke to him?
’

‘
Not for ages, boss, I had nothing to do with him as you know, he dealt directly with you or Ian.
’

‘
So how did you find out he was in trouble?
’

‘
Only when you told me. I started making enquiries. When I found out the dead girl worked for him, I called him but just got his answerphone. I sent two guys to his office but the filth were all over it; the same with his flat. I guessed he
’
d done a runner; that
’
s when I told you he wasn
’
t to be found.
’

‘
So he
’
s been gone what, two days?
’

‘
Yeah, I reckon.
’

‘
And you
’
ve no idea where he
’
d run to?
’
He looked at each of them in turn.

Smith shook his head.
‘
No, boss, no idea.
’

McBride shook his head and said nothing.

Silver was silent for a long moment. Then he said,
‘
Listen very carefully, both of you. The police here are not stupid. They will look into his business and make the connection to us; then the shit will hit the fan. I want him found and I want him silenced. The properties are safe unless he talks; they can
’
t tie them to me without him.
’
He pointed a finger at Smith.
‘
If that happens you
’
re dead. Drop everything else and get your arse after him. Find out where he
’
s gone and get rid of him.
’

Smith
’
s face was suddenly covered in sweat. He brushed at it with a hand, averting his eyes, looking everywhere except at Silver.

‘
Do you understand?
’
Silver insisted.

Smith managed to say,
‘
Yes, boss,
’
his voice almost a croak.

‘
OK, where
’
s he most likely to run to?
’
He looked from one to the other.
‘
Any ideas?
’

McBride said,
‘
His only family is his father, who lives in Kingston, Jamaica.
’

‘
Yes we know about him. It was through him we got involved with his son. Start with him, find out if he knows where his son
’
s heading for. And what about his money? He
’
s made a fortune from me. Where does he keep it?
’

McBride pursed his lips.
‘
Somewhere abroad, I
’
d guess.
’

‘
OK, his father should know.
’
His eyes turned back to Smith.
‘
What contacts have we got in Jamaica?
’

Smith
’
s brain had started working again. He said,
‘
Bob Wendle, one of my soldiers, his father lives over there. I
’
ll take him with me.
’

‘
OK, that
’
s settled then; get your arse over there and don
’
t come back without Fleming
’
s scalp. I don
’
t care what you have to do; do you get my meaning?
’

Smith nodded.
‘
Yes, boss.
’

*

‘
The owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea

In a beautiful pea green boat.

They took some honey, and plenty of money,

Wrapped up in a five pound note.
’

Edward Lear

Brookes woke the next morning to see the sunlight flooding into the room from the balcony. He looked at his watch; it said 3.50. He frowned, and then remembered that he hadn
’
t yet set the watch to Martinique time. There was a clock on the bedside table that told him it was 7.50 local time.

Throwing back the sheet, he swivelled his body and put his feet on the floor. Then he sat for a moment, trying to get his bearings. His throat was dry and his sinuses ached. As his brain began to function, he realised it was the result of breathing the treated air both on the long flight in the plane and in the hotel room. Dragging himself to his feet, he headed for the bathroom.

After a shower and a shave, he felt marginally better. He dressed in the lightweight suit he
’
d brought with him and made his way down to the hotel dining room. Looking round, he saw there were few other guests having breakfast; the holiday season proper would not start for another month. He spotted Middlemiss and Petit sitting at a table on the terrace outside. As he approached, he heard the Frenchman burst out laughing.

Petit got up as Brookes approached, and greeted him in his heavily accented but good English.
‘
So, Monsieur, you finally get out of bed. Fred has been telling me stories about his cases and he has been teaching me the strange language he speaks. I already know several Cockney words.
’

Brookes gave him a sympathetic smile.
‘
Don
’
t believe half what he tells you, he exaggerates everything.
’
He pulled out a chair and joined them. It crossed his mind that it was an advantage that these two were getting on; it meant that Petit was less likely just to go through the motions in helping them find Fleming.

Middlemiss said,
‘
Jean was trying to get me to dip me rusks into me coffee. I told him we stop eating these when our milk teeth come through. These foreigners have got some weird habits, boss.
’

Petit laughed.
‘
It is the other way round; it is you English who are very strange. I have told him that tonight he is going to eat escargot, a French speciality. He told me I should stick them up my
‘
Aris
’
. By this he means my derriere. A strange language, he speaks.
’

Brookes smiled again.
‘
I
’
m surprised you understand him, Jean; I
’
m from London too and I don
’
t understand half of what he says.
’

Moments later, Rose joined them and Petit made an extravagant gesture of kissing her hand and seating her. She gave Brookes an embarrassed look but said nothing. A waiter arrived and they ordered coffee and croissants; English breakfast was not on the menu.

As they ate, Petit told them what had been discovered during the night.
‘
With the photographs you provided, we have made some progress. Fleming was seen arriving two nights ago. We have found a taxi driver who remembers taking him to an
‘
otel here in Fort-de-France. He spent only that night there, then he booked out. We are still looking for a taxi driver who may have picked him up there. But it takes time; there are lots of taxis here. No one fitting his description has left on any commercial flight since then. It is possible he knows someone here who is hiding him. The only other possibility is that he left by sea.
’

‘
Is that easy to arrange?
’

Petit nodded.
‘
Yes, Monsieur, if you know the right people and have much ready cash. But now that we have a good photograph, we should have no trouble tracing him. This is a small island and white-skinned strangers are noticed out of the tourist season, especially if they wander away from the usual tourist spots.
’

‘
Where could he go from here?
’

Petit smiled.
‘
There are small ships that trade throughout the islands all the way to the South American mainland to the south and west to Jamaica and beyond. These ships will carry anything from illegal drugs and arms to lawful produce and sometimes passengers. There are so many islands and so many small ships, it is impossible to control the trade, but people here love to talk and a white man on the move will be talked about. We will find where he has gone but maybe only after he has got there. That
’
s the way of things in the Caribbean.
’

‘
What about private aircraft?
’

Petit shook his head.
‘
There are only two airfields on Martinique and we carefully monitor the few private aircraft that use them as well as the commercial flights. We have a problem here with drugs passing through en route to Europe, so we give them our attention. There is no possibility of your man using a plane without our knowing.
’

‘
How soon might we hear something?
’

Petit shrugged his shoulders as only the Latins could.
‘
Maybe only in a day or two. You must be patient; this is not Europe, you must relax and enjoy our island.
’

Middlemiss said,
‘
I almost forgot, boss. There was a fax waiting at reception.
’
He handed it to Brookes.

Reading it, he looked up.
‘
Our Interpol rep has contacted all the British-speaking islands in the Caribbean. If Fleming lands on any one of those, we should be informed.
’

Petit looked sceptical.
‘
I would not depend on that; there are many landing places that the police and customs do not patrol, he could slip into many places without being seen.
’

Brookes frowned.
‘
In your opinion, Jean, what chance have we got of finding him?
’

‘
It is not easy. I think you English say:
‘
it is like looking for a needle in a stack of hay
’
. But here the stacks of hay are not so large and islanders love to talk. We will hear something.
’

Brookes nodded resignedly. He was in a strange environment and in the hands of the locals. He would have to be patient.

The four sat in the morning sunshine finishing their breakfast before Petit rose and led them to his car.

He said,
‘
I must take you to meet my chief, Colonel Baptist, first; then we go to my office to see if we have any more news.
’

He drove them to the old part of Port de France where the buildings were a mixture of French colonial and Caribbean shanty. He stopped outside a tall building in Rue Victor Hugo that had a whitewashed plaster fa
ç
ade. Its tall windows had white-painted shutters that reminded Brookes of a holiday he
’
d once had in Brittany back in the days when his children were young and his marriage intact.