Every Bitter Thing (23 page)

“Oh. That. Was that his name? Mansur.”

“That was his name.”

“Yeah. Well, he musta told you about it, right?”

“He didn't tell us a damned thing. He couldn't. He's dead.”

“Good riddance, the prick.”

“What happened?”

“He saw me stuffing the kid's bag. He was across the aisle, acting like he was asleep, but he wasn't. He saw the whole damned thing, and he heard me lie to the stewardess.”

“And then?”

“He waits until the stewardess buggers off, and he comes and sits down beside me.”

“And he blackmailed you?”

“He did.”

“How much did you give him?”

“Everything I had, over three thousand dollars and almost a thousand reais. The prick.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

O
N THEIR WAY BACK
to Hector's office, Silva posed a question.

“If you discovered,” he said, “that it was Sacca who planted the stuff on your kid, and that Sacca was in a cell in Santo André, what would you do?”

“I don't know what
I'd
do,” Hector said. “But I think I know what the kid's father would do.”

“And that is?”

“Based on everything we know up to now….”

“Yes?”

“And acting under the assumption that it's him, not Clancy, who's our man….”

“Yes?”

“I think Julio Arriaga would try to get inside Sacca's cell and kill him.”

“I agree. And we certainly don't want to have
that
happen, now, do we?”

“So
that's
why you agreed to get him a lawyer? So we can get him out of there, set him up someplace—and use him for bait?”

“Precisely.”

“What if Arriaga doesn't come for him?”

“Then I'm barking up the wrong tree.”

“How are we going to get the word out?”

“You're going to tell his ex-wife.”

“You've thought this out, haven't you?”

“I have.”

Hector stroked his chin. “I
did
promise Aline Arriaga I'd call her if I found out who framed her son.”

“Yes,” Silva said, “so you told me.”

“When do I do it?”

“No time like the present.”

“While he's still in Santo André?”

“Why not? But first, call that delegado, Carillo, and tell him that no one,
no one
, except Sacca's lawyer gets in to see him.”

“Where do we get the lawyer?”

“I'll talk to Zanon.”

“The public prosecutor?”

“Yes. He's as straight as they come, and he won't like it one bit, but he owes me, and he'll do it. When Sacca walks out the door we'll have people waiting.”

“At which time I call Aline again and tell her he's on the street.”

“Exactly. But this Arriaga character, if he is indeed our man, has already proven to be very resourceful. We mustn't underestimate him. Assign a man to cover the exterior of the jail, more than one if there are multiple exits. Provide photos of Arriaga and Sacca. As an additional precaution, put an undercover operative into Sacca's cell and tell him to stick to Sacca like glue, never more than a meter or so away. Make it a man adept at hand-to-hand fighting. Tell Carillo what we're up to and tell him, too, that our operative is to be the last person introduced into that cell, the
very last
person introduced into that cell until we get Sacca out of there. And tell him to keep the whole undercover business under his hat.”

“I
KNEW
it!” Aline Arriaga said when Hector called her. “I knew my Junior was innocent! What did you say that bastard's name was?”

“Sacca. Abilio Sacca.”

Her next words came right out of Silva's script.

“I want to see him,” she said. “Where is he?”

“He's in a jail in Santo André.” Hector gave her the address. “I have to warn you, though. They won't let you in unless he wants to see you, and he probably won't. It's his right to refuse.”

“His right? A man like that has
rights
? How about my son's rights? He had a right to be locked up with other kids. He had a right to
live
. And who showed any concern for
him
?”

“I'm sorry, Senhora Arriaga. I know you—”

“Did this Sacca show any remorse? Any remorse at all? Did he even say he was sorry?”

“He's not that kind of man.”

“When he gets out of that delegacia, where will he be going?”

“Perhaps to prison.”

“
Perhaps?
Only perhaps?”

“These things are unpredictable, Senhora.”

“You're certainly right about that, Delegado. If I've learned anything about our judicial system in the last three months, it's that it doesn't work. Will you do one more thing for me? Just one?”

“What's that, Senhora?”

“Keep me informed of this man's whereabouts. I'm not going to get a good night's sleep until I meet with him, face to face.”

A
LTHOUGH
Z
ANON
Parma was a friend of many years' standing, his pleasure in receiving a call from Silva quickly vanished when he heard what it was about.

“For Christ's sake, Mario, I can't just pull the guy out of there for no reason at all.”

“I'm sure you'll find a way, Zanon. It's vitally important that you do.”

Silence.

“Zanon?”

“Okay, okay, I'll find a way, but Jesus, Mario—“

“Just make sure of one thing: don't get him sprung without informing me first. I don't want Sacca walking out that door without half a dozen men waiting for him.”

Silence again, this time more lengthy than the first.

Then Zanon said, “I've got an idea that will work, but it's gonna take time to set up. There's no way I'm going to be able to get him out of there before the weekend. Monday would be the absolute earliest.”

“Z
ANON SAYS
he needs another five days?” Arnaldo said the following morning. “Maybe six? What's with that?”

“Zanon is a straight arrow. He's not going to do anything illegal.”

Arnaldo sighed. “And legal takes time.”

“Always and in all circumstances. Unfortunately.”

“And you can't push him any harder?”

“No. We'll just have to wait for his call.”

“What do we do in the meantime?”

“Why don't we go have a chat with that delegado, Bittencourt?”

“Call him first?”

“Not on your life,” Silva said. “Let's go in there with a show of force. Round up Hector and Babyface.”

S
ERGIO
B
ITTENCOURT
was biting into a croissant when the four men barged into his office. One of them he already knew. It was that federal cop, Hector Costa.

Of the others, one was a kid who looked to be in his early twenties, one was a tall man in his fifties who moved with the grace of a cat, and the last was a man of about the same age wearing a gray suit. The latter had black eyes that closely resembled Costa's.

“Chief Inspector Silva would like a word with you,” Hector said.

Bittencourt stood up, brushed flakes of pastry from his white shirt, and stuck out his jaw.

“I've got a question for you, Delegado,” the man in the gray suit said. “How much money did you take from Senhora Arriaga?”

“Did she say that? Did she say I took money from her? She's full of shit.”

“Ah, so you fed her the information out of the goodness of your heart, did you?”

“Fed her
what
information? I didn't feed her anything. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“She wanted to know who was responsible for killing her son, correct?”

“Wouldn't you?”

“Just answer the question, Delegado. Did you, or did you not, tell Aline Arriaga that João Girotti raped and killed her son?”

“I did not.”

“You're lying. She offered to pay for the information. You wanted the money. You gave her a name, you gave her Girotti.”

“That's a load of crap.”

“Why Girotti, specifically? Did his name just pop into your head? Or did you have something against him?”

“If she says that, it's no more than her word against mine. And who is she? A nobody, that's who! The word of a nobody against the word of a delegado? Don't make me laugh. Get the hell out of here. This conversation is over.”

“Your response,” Silva said, “told us everything we came here to find out. We'll be talking again before long.”

“Is that some kind of threat?”

“Yes, Delegado, it is.”

T
HEY WERE
in the delegacia's parking lot when Hector got a call from Horácio La Selva, the undercover agent he'd put in the cell with Sacca. La Selva sounded agitated. Hector made a gesture for the other cops to gather around him.

“Some idiot,” La Selva said, “forgot to tell the guards I was a cop.”

“That idiot would be me,” Hector said. “I told Carillo to keep it to himself, figured it would be safer that way. Safer for
you
, not Sacca. What's the problem?”

“The problem, Senhor,” La Selva said, changing his tune, “is that Sacca got sprung yesterday afternoon at five. But me?

I had to spend another night in jail.”

“Damn! Is the delegado there now?”

“He just arrived, had some problem with his kid at school.”

“Put him on.”

There was the sound of the phone being handed over, then, “Carillo.”

“What's this about Sacca being released?” Hector said.

“What we agreed,” Carillo said. “Silva sent a lawyer.”

“No,” Hector said. “He didn't.”

“Well, somebody did. And he had all the right paperwork, so we had to spring Sacca.”