The Body in the River (21 page)

He quickly brought his mind back to the present when Petit led them into the building. A discreet sign above the door announced it to be
‘
The Commissariat de Police
’
. Petit spoke to a middle-aged woman at the reception desk. She made a phone call and nodded them through. Petit led the way up an old staircase with a highly polished mahogany banister rail.

Colonel Baptist was a tall, thin man with a Charles De Gaulle nose and the same haughty manner. The trousers of his tropical uniform had razor sharp creases and his brown leather boots were highly polished. Clearly he was old school and hot on protocol. His heels almost clicked together and his head bowed slightly as he shook Brookes
’
hand. Petit formally introduced Middlemiss and Rose; they got a more cursory handshake from the colonel.

He then made a long speech which Petit translated and to which Brookes made the right noises in reply, which Rose translated in her precise French. There was no small talk, and the interview lasted just three minutes before Baptist was ushering them out of his office. Not once during that time had the man
’
s face broken into a smile. Brookes got the distinct impression that, as far as the colonel was concerned, their visit was just an inconvenience.

As Petit passed, the colonel said something to him, in a stern voice, that Rose didn
’
t catch.

Petit
’
s reply was brief but respectful.

As they walked down the stairs, Middlemiss whispered to Brookes,
‘
Kin
‘
ell, boss, have we gone back a few centuries here?
’

Brookes gave him a glare that said keep quiet.

Petit
’
s mobile phone rang at that moment, saving further embarrassment. The call lasted a few minutes.

Returning the phone to his pocket, he turned to Brookes.
‘
Good news, Monsieur, Your fugitive used the
‘
otel phone to make a call in the short time he was there. The number he called is that of Pierre Thoreau, a small time criminal. He is
…
how do you say
…
a fixer?
’

Brookes nodded.
‘
Yes, someone who arranges things, usually illegal.
’

‘
Exactly; the man is known to us. He knows many people, including drug smugglers. My colleagues are on the way to see him. They will bring him to my office; we go there now.
’

Petit
’
s office was in a modern building half a mile from the Commissariat. The office was large, with a dozen desks and all the paraphernalia of a modern detective office. Just two of the desks were occupied. An attractive black woman in her late twenties said something to Petit in what Brookes imagined must be the local Creole.

He replied in the same language then said to Brookes,
‘
My colleagues have him; he will be here in ten minutes. Please sit down and I will get you some iced coffee.
’

Ten minutes later, there was the sound of a scuffle outside. Then the door was thrust open and three men entered. The one in the middle had his hands cuffed behind his back and was cursing his two companions. They ignored his complaints and bustled him through a door into an adjoining room. A moment later, the door opened and the waiting detectives heard a loud slap and a cry of pain. The man who appeared in the doorway beckoned to Petit, who got up and joined him. The door closed behind them, blocking out any more noise.

Rose looked at Brookes.
‘
Shouldn
’
t we do something, sir? Surely we can
’
t let them beat him up to get information for us?
’

He gave her a hard look.
‘
What do you suggest, Jacqui, this is not our jurisdiction.
’

‘
But surely we can
’
t condone this, sir.
’

‘
Nor can we insult our hosts. Now just be quiet, please.
’

Rose got up and started pacing back and forth. After a few minutes, she sat down again, but avoided eye contact with her two companions.

It was some twenty minutes later when the door to the interview room opened again and Petit emerged with one of his colleagues. The man was tall and muscular, his skin somewhere between brown and yellow. His features were black African except for his eyes; they had the slant of the Chinese. There was a thin film of sweat on his forehead.

Petit had a smile on his face.
‘
Monsieur Thoreau has been co-operative; he has told us where he took Fleming. La Trinite; it is a small port in the north-west of the island. Many small ships that trade through the islands visit there. He was looking for a ship going west towards Jamaica. There is a man in La Trinite who makes such arrangements.
’

Brookes frowned.
‘
Jamaica? That
’
s the last place he
’
d go.
’

‘
But of course, but he won
’
t want anyone else to know that. These small ships stop at many islands. I expect he will disembark somewhere on the way. But we must go to La Trinite. Once we know the name of the ship he is on, we will be able to trace it.
’

‘
So the fixer doesn
’
t know what ship he
’
s on?
’

‘
No; he was paid to put Fleming in touch with a man that makes such arrangements.
’
He turned to his colleague.
‘
This is Detective Pierre Du Plessis. He will come with us. He is from Martinique and speaks the Creole better than I. And he has a contact in La Trinity; an informant, I think you say.
’

Brookes gave Du Plessis a nod and a smile.
‘
Thank you for your help.
’
Then to Petit he said,
‘
What will happen to Thoreau in the meantime?
’

Petit smiled.
‘
He will be detained here; don
’
t worry, he will not be able to warn them we are coming.
’

Brookes returned his smile.
‘
Sorry, I shouldn
’
t be trying to teach you to suck eggs.
’

‘
Suck eggs? What is this strange expression?
’

Brookes explained its meaning on the way to Petit
’
s car.

Du Plessis had gone ahead in his own car; Petit and his guests followed at a more sedate pace.

As they were leaving the outskirts of Port de France, Petit said,
‘
Your man has lots of cash with him, Monsieur. He paid Thoreau one thousand US dollars just to take him to La Trinite and introduce him to the smuggler. But he was most unwise to use the
‘
otel telephone; did he not realise we could trace the call?
’

Brookes nodded.
‘
As far as we know, Fleming is not a professional criminal; he left far too many clues at the murder scene to be a pro. He has no previous convictions in England or Jamaica, according to their police. I think the London gang leader set him up in business because to outward appearances he was a respectable businessman; then no-one would suspect he was laundering drug money. As far as the cash is concerned, I think he started preparing his escape six months ago. That
’
s when the false passport was issued. I
’
m not surprised he built up a pile of ready cash for the journey; I doubt that a smuggler would take his cheque.
’

Petit smiled grimly.
‘
I see. He will be lucky if he lives to reach his destination. A fool carrying large sums of money among drug smugglers is like a bleeding man swimming among the piranha fish.
’

‘
Then we must catch up with him as quick as we can. We need him alive to give evidence on the London gang.
’

They lapsed into silence and the three Brits turned their attention to the scenery.

Within a mile of leaving Port de France, the tarmac ended and they found themselves on a dirt road. In the hollows, there were deep ruts that had dried to the consistency of concrete. Petit had his work cut out finding a path through them.

The interior of the island was mountainous and the road threaded its way along the valleys between steep slopes, the upper parts of which were covered in wild vegetation. All the lower slopes and the valley floors were under cultivation; they passed through vast plantations of sugar cane and bananas. The growing bunches of the fruit were sheathed in plastic bags, which, Petit explained, was to keep insects, mould, and fungus from destroying the crop.

Middlemiss commented,
‘
Now I
’
ve seen everything: bananas in pyjamas.
’

As they drove, Petit pointed out some of the mountains. They were of volcanic origin. He pointed out the tallest of these in the distance.

‘
That is Mont Pel
é
e. In nineteen-oh-two it erupted, killing thirty thousand people. Most of them lived in St. Pierre, the old capital; only two people in the town survived.
’

From the back of the car, Rose said,
‘
Are any of the volcanoes still active, Jean?
’

He laughed.
‘
Now they are all sleeping. But who knows when one might awaken?
’

The three Brits became quiet again, each thinking how different this world was from the one they knew. Twenty minutes later, they arrived in their destination, La Trinite.

As they approached the waterfront, Petit stopped the car outside a building with a brass plate on the wall that said:
“
Le Capitaine de Port
”
. In English, this meant
“
harbourmaster
”
, Rose explained.

De Plessis was already there. He and Petit had a brief conversation. Turning to Brookes, Petit said,

‘
Yesterday, there were two small cargo ships here; they both left during the night. Neither showed a passenger on their manifest. But that is no surprise; if your man wants to travel incognito, he would not want it shown on the paperwork. Now we should have some lunch whilst Pierre meets with his contact. He will find out if either ship carried a passenger.
’

He led them to a small cafe opposite the concrete dock. There was no fence around the dock and Brookes could see how difficult it would be to police the comings and goings from ships docked there. Someone could slip aboard in the night with no-one the wiser.

Seeing his anxiety, Petit said,
‘
Please do not worry, Monsieur; if your man is on one of the ships, Pierre will find out. Look around you; apart from us, how many white faces do you see? People will talk when they see someone who does not belong. Now you must relax and eat some of the delicious fish which is caught in the bay here.
’

They feasted on the local seafood, washed down by a bottle of more than passable white wine. The combination of French and island cuisine was easy on the palate, despite the hot spices initially taking their breath away. None of them sampled the local snails, however.

Middlemiss mumbled over his food,
“
I thought rice was for afters, not the main course. I miss me chips already.
”

When it was explained to Petit what was meant by
“
afters
”
, he laughed. He and Middlemiss were fast becoming friends, much to Rose
’
s surprise. Brookes noticed that Middlemiss ate all of his meal, right down to the last grain of rice.

Du Plessis joined them as they were drinking their coffee; he had good news for them.

He had greased a few palms and discovered that a man fitting Fleming
’
s description had boarded a small Dominican Republic registered cargo ship the previous night. The ship, named Julianne, had left at dawn yesterday, destination Santo Domingo.

Rose said,
‘
That
’
s what we were afraid of. The Dominican Republic is one of those countries that are not members of Interpol and we have no extradition treaty with them; and diplomatic relations with them are not good.
’

Petit said,
‘
Don
’
t worry; he won
’
t stop there even if the ship is actually headed there. Don
’
t forget that many of these ships are smugglers and their captains don
’
t always tell the truth about their destinations. And Santo Domingo is no place for a white European, no matter how rich he is. He will be heading for somewhere else.
’