The Piranhas (7 page)

I was still looking at her. “Then what are you going to do?”

She began to take off her clothes. “I need a bath too. It’s a big tub, made especially for two. Are you shy?”

“No,” I answered. “But I am surprised.”

“I don’t know why.” She laughed. “You’ve seen me naked before, and I’ve seen you.”

“How come you’ve seen me?” I asked.

“Don’t be silly,” she answered. “We were all in that tiny cabin. There was no place we could conceal ourselves. Now get going.” She crossed to the side of the bathroom and straddled the bidet. “I’ll have my pussy washed before you finish shaving.”

She was already in the tub by the time I began to step into the water. The water was warm and soft. It felt good against my skin.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Perfect,” I said.

She stood up and held out a large cream-colored plastic bottle with a plunger spout. “Stand up,” she said. “It’s a special bath soap. I’ll spread it over you. It will make your skin soft.”

Slowly she spread the soap over me with a light hand. “Now it’s my turn,” she said, handing me the bottle.

I felt clumsy. My touch was not as light as hers. She turned slowly and let me do her back, and then turned again to face me. I looked at her questioningly. She smiled. “Don’t be silly. Finish.” Quickly I spread the soap over her. Her breasts felt heavy in my hand and her belly strong and flat. Very lightly I spread the soap over her pubis.

“Harder,” she said. “Get it into my hair.”

I did as she asked and then brought the soap down between her legs. She was looking into my eyes as I gave her the bottle. She squirted more soap over my penis and testicles.

She was breathing heavily. “Did you feel my love button sticking out?”

I nodded.

She began massaging my genitals. “You’re getting hard,” she said.

“You keep on doing that and I’ll come in your hands,” I said.

“I’ve come twice already,” she said. She put an arm over my shoulder and began to pull me down to her.

We made it to our knees; then I couldn’t hold it any longer. The spasm tore through my body. It felt as if it would never stop. “Jesus!” I said. I looked down at her. “I’ve come all over you.”

“That’s beautiful. That’s the best skin lotion ever made.”

*   *   *

IN THE DISTANCE
I could hear the telephone ringing. Then I felt her hand shaking my shoulder. Slowly I sat up. We were both naked in the bed. “Oh, boy,” I said. “I really passed out.”

“You were entitled to it.” She smiled as she spoke in a soft voice. “I thought you would never stop coming.”

I shook my head. “Did I hear the telephone?”

“It’s your States call,” she said. Quickly she held out a vial. “Take a snort,” she said. “You’re still half asleep.”

I nodded. As I packed my nose, my head opened up. “Where’s the phone?” I asked.

“Here,” she said, picking it up from her bedside table.

I held the receiver to my ear. It was a female American voice I heard. “Mr. Stevens?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I have Mr. Di Stefano for you,” she said.

There was a click; then I heard my uncle’s voice. It sounded heavy and sad.
“Angelo è morto,”
he said. It wasn’t a question; he already knew.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“When did it happen?” he asked quietly.

“Almost a week ago,” I said. “The captain tried to hijack us. He shot Angelo in the back. It was over in a minute.”

“Where were you?” he asked.

“I was down below, in the cabin. When I heard the shots I grabbed the automatic just in time to put the captain away as he came down the cabin steps. I took out one of the other sailors. We made it downstream into a cove with the other two sailors until they got ambitious. I got rid of them before Vince found us. If it weren’t for him we would never have made it.”

“You said ‘We.’ Was there someone else with you?”

“Yes,” I said. “Angelo brought a girl from Lima. He wanted an interpreter.”

“Angelo wanted to get laid,” my uncle said mirthlessly. “Can we get him back to the States?”

“No, Uncle,” I answered. “He’s five hundred kilometers up the Amazon in the jungle.”

My uncle was silent for a moment. “I told him not to go,” he said. “But he never listened to me. He always wanted to prove himself.”

I had no answer.

“I didn’t want you to go, either. I told Angelo that you had no part in this,” he said.

“Angelo was my cousin and I loved him,” I said. “Of course I would go with him. He came to Sicily with me.”

“I want you home,” he said. “When can you get a plane?”

“It’s night now,” I said. “I’ll check the first thing in the morning.”

“Get on Braniff,” he said. “I don’t trust any of the foreign airlines. You fly American.”

“Yes, Uncle,” I said.

“You call me the moment you book your flight.”

“Yes, Uncle,” I said.

“When you get home, we’ll arrange for a mass for Angelo,” he said.

“I’ll be there,” I said.

His voice was husky. “The girl? Is she all right?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Was she a nice girl?”

“Yes, Uncle,” I said. “Angelo had good taste. He didn’t go with tramps.”

“Take care of her,” he said.

“Thank you, Uncle,” I said.

“Take care of yourself, too,” he said. “Don’t forget that you’re the only man in the family that I have left. And call me tomorrow.”

“Yes, Uncle,” I said.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” I said. The telephone clicked off in my hand. I gave Alma the receiver.

There were tears in her eyes. “How is he?” she asked.

“Heartbroken,” I said. “Angelo was the light in his eyes.”

8

WE HAD BREAKFAST
on the balcony. The sky was blue, the sun bright, and the air fresh. The old lady served us a large plate of fried eggs, onions, and tomatoes, and thin slices of grilled meat covered with a spicy salsa. The bread was hot and dark and the slices were covered with butter. The coffee was strong and hot. I was starved. I ate like there was no tomorrow.

Alma laughed. “Do you always eat like this?”

“Only when I’m hungry,” I mumbled through a mouthful. “At least it’s real food, not that shit we had on the river.”

“Mamacita is a great cook,” she said.

“I’ll agree to that,” I said. I looked at her. “You don’t eat much.”

“Girls have to watch their diet,” she said. “Peruvian women tend to get fat.”

“Like Peruvian pussy.” I laughed.

“That’s good fat.” She laughed with me. “You didn’t seem to complain.”

“Beautiful,” I said. “The best.”

She leaned across the table and kissed my cheek. “You’re sweet.”

The old lady stood at the balcony railing. She turned to Alma and spoke.

Alma rose from her chair and looked over the railing. She gestured to me and I joined her. “Down there across the street. That car with two men standing next to it. They might be police.”

“You don’t know?” I asked.

“It looks like a police car but I don’t see any insignia,” she said. “Could be plainclothes men. Their cars are not marked.”

“How do you know they’re looking at us?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But Vince said that the Iquitos police might have been tipped off about us. If they had, they would have notified Lima headquarters because it’s the national headquarters.”

“And if they are not police?”

“Then they are the
cocainas
still looking for the property.” She raised her hand to mine and took my arm away from the railing. “Get dressed,” she said. “I have some friends in headquarters. My
patrón
was a general in the army and was once the
jefe
of police. At one time we were all close. I’ll make a few calls and see what I can find out.”

I went to my room. The old lady was better than any valet. She had my clothes all laid out on the bed: a dark blue blazer with gold buttons, gray flannel slacks, a light blue shirt and a narrow black knit tie. My black oxfords were polished to a high shine and the silk socks carefully placed in each shoe. It took me less than five minutes to dress. There was only one thing I thought I might need. I opened the attaché case and took the automatic from it and slipped it into my jacket pocket. Then I took the ten thousand dollars I had promised Alma and put it into a manila envelope. I placed my passport and visa in my breast pocket and a few packages of bills in my pants pocket. I walked through the bathroom into her room.

She was still speaking on the telephone. The old lady was taking a dress from the closet and laying it out for her. I waited in the doorway until she put down the telephone.

“They are the police,” she said. “But they are not looking for you.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about,” I said.

She shook her head. “They are looking for Angelo. And they think that you are him.” She dropped her dressing gown to the floor and stepped into lace bikini panties, then quickly fastened a matching lace brassiere over her breasts. She looked up at me as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled up her nylons. “You’re staring,” she said.

“You’re a tease.” I tossed the manila envelope on the bed beside her.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“The money I promised,” I answered.

She was silent for a moment, then handed the envelope to me. “You don’t have to do it,” she said. “I don’t need the money.”

“I made a promise,” I said, returning it to her.

“But we were different then,” she said. “Now we are friends and lovers.”

“I want you to keep the money,” I said. “More now than before, because of the way we feel about each other.”

She rose from the bed and kissed me. “You’re a lovely man,” she said softly.

I held her for a moment, then let her go. “Thank you.”

She took the dress from the bed and slipped it on over her body. “Mamacita!” she called.

The old woman hurried into the bedroom. Alma spoke quickly to her. Mamacita nodded and fastened the snap of the dress near the base of her neck. Then she took the envelope from the bed and left the room.

Alma turned back to me. “How do I look?” she asked.

“Beautiful,” I said.

“I’ll fix my makeup,” she said. “You pack your valise, we’ll be leaving for the airport in a few minutes.”

“What about the police outside?” I asked.

“There won’t be any problems,” she said. “I spoke to the captain of police. He’ll call them off and take us to the airport in his car.”

“He believed your story?”

She nodded. “Of course. It was the truth anyway. But he will want to see your passport before we go. You have your visa, and it wouldn’t hurt if you also left a thousand-dollar bill with it.”

“I thought he was a friend of yours,” I said.

“If he wasn’t a friend he wouldn’t do this for us,” she answered. “You don’t understand. Our officials don’t earn much money, they need much help.”

“We have the same thing in the States sometimes, but we call it graft,” I said.

“You have no right to be sarcastic,” she said quietly. “You’ve been breaking almost every law we have on the books.”

I stared at her. She was right. Who was I to cast stones? I took her hand. “I apologize.”

She squeezed my hand. “Now hurry. Get packed.”

*   *   *

I CLOSED THE
valise and locked it, then placed the attaché case on top of it. I left them on the bed and walked out onto the balcony. The small black Volkswagen was still parked across the street. While I was watching, a large four-door Ford Fairlane pulled into the street beside it. I couldn’t see the driver, but the two men who had been standing next to the Volks seemed to speak to the driver in the other car; then the Ford moved, and the men got into the Volks and started to drive away. I watched them until they had turned the corner, then went back into the apartment. I took my valise and attaché case and walked into the living room.

Alma was waiting for me. I stared at her. She had a dark mink coat loosely thrown over her shoulders, and on the floor beside her were two large valises, a folded hanging bag, and a small, square jewelry bag. All Louis Vuitton. I smiled at her. “You’ve got class. Planning a trip?”

She laughed. “I’m going to New York with you.”

“Hey,” I said. “I don’t remember talking about it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Do you think he would have believed me if I hadn’t told him that you were taking me to New York with you?”

“It’s not that easy,” I said. “You need a visa.”

She laughed again. “I have a multiple-entry visa to the States. After all, I went to school there.”

I was silent.

“I also went to school in Paris for a year,” she said.

“Are you planning to go there too?” I asked.

“Maybe. But I won’t be any problem to you. My
patrón
left me a small apartment in the Hotel Pierre.”

I started to laugh. “Maybe you could take me in. I don’t have an apartment in New York.”

“You can be my guest as long as you want,” she said.

The buzzer rang from the house phone near the door. She pressed a button and spoke into it. House phones always have a tinny sound, and this was no exception. The man’s voice sounded thin and excited. She spoke to him. His voice came through again. Finally she nodded and replied with the only word I could understand: “Okay.”

“
El capitán
is downstairs in the garage under the apartment house. He has kept the two detectives with him. He says they tell him that there are three suspicious characters waiting in a car just outside the entrance to the garage. He thinks they are
pistoleros
because the car has Colombian license plates. He doesn’t want us to open the door to anyone except himself.”

“Shit,” I said. I took the automatic from my pocket. “Do you have another door to the apartment?”

“Service door through the kitchen,” she said.

“We better push a table against it,” I said. “We don’t want anybody to come in from the back.”

She called to Mamacita and I followed them into the kitchen and helped them move a heavy wooden table against the door. Then we walked back into the living room. She turned and spoke to the old woman. The old woman began weeping. She hugged Alma and kissed her. Alma kissed her too, said something else to her in Spanish, and finally Mamacita left the room.