Like A Hole In The Head (22 page)

     I had a long swim ahead of me, but I was in the mood for a long swim.

* * *

     The moon was coming up behind the palm trees as I came out of the sea. I had three things to do: I had to get a change of clothes; I had to pick up my car, and then I had to drive to the little white house and pick up the Weston & Lees rifle.

     The villa where Lucy had been was in darkness, but I approached it cautiously. I moved through the flowering shrubs until I got round to the front of the house, then I paused to listen. I heard nothing. In the light of the moon I could see my Volkswagen parked where Raimundo had left it.

     Nick and the other guards had been living in the place. In there, I would find a change of clothes. Although it was a temptation to jump into the car and drive away, I had to get out of my mud-stained, soaking-wet slacks and put on other clothes.

     I found the front door unlocked. I moved into the darkness silently. I found the stairs and climbed them, listening, cautious all the time. The first door I opened led into a bathroom. The light from the moon was strong enough now for me to find my way around without turning on any lights. The second door led into a bedroom. There I found what I was looking for: dark slacks and a black sweat-shirt. The fit was tight but good enough. I also found with some impatient searching a pair of stout, leather-soled sandals. Holding the sandals in my hand, I crept down the stairs, paused at the front door to put the sandals on, then crossed the tarmac to the Volkswagen. I found the key in the ignition lock. With my heart banging against my ribs, I started the engine, engaged gear and drove down the drive.

     No one shouted after me. When I reached the narrow road, I turned on the headlights and stamped down on the gas pedal. It took me under fifteen minutes to reach the road leading to the little white house. Here, I stopped the car, turned off the lights and walked the rest of the way.

     Reaching the house, I saw it was in darkness, but even then I took my time approaching it.

     The rifle was up on the roof where I had left it. Moving as silently as I knew how, I went up the steps of the verandah and moved into the dark house, pausing to listen. I heard nothing so

     I went on up the stairs to the ladder that led to the roof, lit by the brilliant white moon.

     Raimundo was sitting on the parapet, a colt automatic pistol in his hand : its blunt nose pointing at me.

     "I've been waiting for you, soldier," he said. His voice was husky and I could see in the light of the moon his throat was swollen. "I thought you'd be along to collect the rifle. No tricks unless you want a second navel. Sit over there."

     I rubbed my hand across my bruised, mosquito-bitten face and then walked over to the parapet about five yards from him and sat down.

     I had tricked him once before and given time I could trick him again, but did I have the time?

     As I sat down, he lowered the gun, resting it on his thigh. His left hand went to his throat.

     "You goddam nearly killed me," he said.

     "What did you expect?"

     "Don't let's waste time. Savanto knows Timoteo and your wife got away. You know what that means, soldier?"

     "You told me. We're dead men."

     "That's it. Did you find them?"

     "I found them. She and he are doing a modern Romeo and Juliet act."

     He stared at me.

     "Those were the characters who died young . . . or is my education slipping?"

     "They were the two."

     He continued to stare at me.

     "I don't know if I'm with you, soldier. Are you telling me Timoteo has stolen your wife?"

     "That's about right, but it isn't one-sided."

     He touched his throat gingerly as he thought.

     "Doesn't seem to be your lucky day, does it?"

Probably it was his way of saying he was sorry.

"Any cigarettes?" I asked.

     He tossed me a pack and a book of matches. I lit up and as I made to throw them back, he said, "Keep them; the way my throat feels I can't imagine I'll ever smoke again."

     "You had it coming."

     He grinned crookedly.

     "I was holding on to the last pieces. Where are they?"

     "Where you won't find them."

     "I don't want to." Again he touched his throat. "But Savanto will find them. He'll find you and me too."

     I didn't say anything. I was tempted to say that I would find Savanto first, but I wasn't sure if that kind of talk would pay dividends.

     I watched Raimundo lay the pistol on the parapet by his side. I decided he was too fast, even slowed down by a swollen throat, for me to jump him.

     "It won't be long, soldier, before they come here and find us," he said. "Then there will be some shooting. Then you and I will be dropped into the sea. Then they will go after Timoteo and your wife and there will be more shooting and they will be dropped into the swamp."

     I regarded him. His face was glistening with sweat. He looked like a man waiting to die.

     "Are you telling me Savanto would have his own son murdered?"

     Raimundo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

     "He has to. The word has gone out that his son has walked over his father's face. That's the way these people talk. No one walks across the face of the Boss and survives, even if he is the Boss's son. If the old man is to remain Boss, Timoteo will have to go, and the old man is going to remain Boss, make no mistake about that."

     "Boss of what? Boss of a lot of peasants? Is that all that important to him?"

     Raimundo hesitated, then shrugged.

     "Why shouldn't you know? I'm out of the deal now. Savanto thinks big, makes big plans and makes big promises. All these goddam peasants he talks about look on him as God. So to stay God, he must have money : the kind of money you and I can't even imagine. His brother runs the Red Dragon organisation and this organisation has the money Savanto needs because they control the gambling and the drug traffic in Venezuela and that's where the big money is. Toni Savanto, the brother, is dying of cancer of the liver. He can't last much more than a couple of weeks . . . if that. Diaz, his son, is a very smart cookie and his heir. So long as he is alive, Savanto hasn't a hope of taking over the Red Dragons. You would imagine nothing could be more simple than to knock Diaz off. The old man has only to tell me and I'd do it, but that's not the way he works. Because a quarter of a million, simple-minded, starving peasants look on him as God, and because he is also beginning to think he is God, he doesn't want it known he has blood on his hands. There are ten men known as the Elders who do the administrative work of the Little Brothers and Savanto is scared of them. They have the power, if they gang up on him, to ease him into retirement. These men would never go along with a killing, but they would go along with a vendetta. That's part of their tradition." Raimundo paused as he stared out to sea, then he went on, "So the old man's problem was how to get rid of Diaz. With Diaz out of the way, the Red Dragons would be like a fat, sleek body without a head. The old man has only to reach out and stick his head on the headless body to have all the money he needs to make good his promises. So he cooks up this idea of getting rid of Diaz and establishing Timoteo, who is his heir, as a guy to be taken seriously. Timoteo was told what to do. When Savanto tells anyone what to do, he does it. So Savanto found a girl and Timoteo took her around until the Elders were sold on the idea he was in love with her. I know Timoteo couldn't stand the sight of her, but he did what he was told. When the background was killed her. Just before she died, Carlo branded her face with the Red Dragon symbol which was stolen from the old man's brother. Savanto called the Elders and showed them the girl's body. He told them Diaz had raped and branded her as a challenge to Timoteo. The Elders fell for it. They said Timoteo had to kill Diaz. They knew Savanto had only to give the sign and Diaz would be dead, but that would he murder. But if Timoteo killed him, that would be justice. So Savanto had to put on a show. He knew he couldn't force Timoteo to kill Diaz. Timoteo was a yesman to a point, but he stopped at murder. So you got involved, I got involved, and now Timoteo has fouled it up by running away. That puts him in trouble. The Elders know by now what he has done and they have turned their thumbs down. If Savanto wants to remain boss, he has to turn his thumb down too. So Diaz gets a new lease of life and Timoteo is marked to be hit. Later, Savanto will cook up another idea to get rid of Diaz. He's full of those kind of ideas. So Savanto's button men are after Timoteo. They will knock off your wife, you and me because we know too much. We are all dead bodies . . . make no mistake about that, soldier. The word has gone out."

     What happens if Savanto drops dead?" I asked, flicking the butt of my cigarette into the darkness.

     "He won't drop dead. He's built to last."

     "But suppose he does drop dead. What happens?"

     Raimundo stiffened. He got the message.

     "Timoteo would take over. The peasants wouldn't do so well but they would survive. But Savanto isn't going to drop dead."

     I lit another cigarette.

     "I think it's time he did."

     We looked at each other.

     "It can't be done, soldier," Raimundo said, shaking his head. "The red light has gone up. This is the first thing Savanto would think of now he knows the operation has turned sour. By now he is surrounded by his button men : men trained for just this job. Get that idea out of your mind."

     "Do you want to be in on this?" I asked. "Or are you chickening out and sitting here waiting to be slaughtered?"

     "You don't know what you're up against, soldier."

     "Haven't you the guts to try? What have you to lose?"

     He hesitated.

     "What do I do?"

     "I'm going to kill this man," I said. "He came into my life with promises. Now you tell me he is going to kill my wife and kill me. Okay, I believe you. He branded me." I put my fingers through my shirt opening and felt the scar on my chest. "No man can regard himself as God. I don't give a damn if he is the father of a lot of starving peasants if this is the way he works. I don't believe these peasants would think anything of him if they knew the kind of animal he is. There is a hell of a lot of talk about tradition. Well, I have traditions too. No one brands me or threatens me and gets away with it. He called me a professional killer. I am just that." I got to my feet. "You tell me I'll be dead, but I tell you Savanto will be dead before me. I'm going to kill him!"

     Raimundo shook his head.

     "I go along with all you say, soldier, but you won't kill him. He is organised. Getting a shot at Diaz is kid's stuff to getting a shot at Savanto."

     I crossed the roof to where I had left the rifle and I picked it up.

     "Listen to me, soldier," Raimundo went on. "No one can hope to knock off Savanto when he is alert, and now, he is very alert. He thinks ahead all the time. Do you imagine he doesn't know you will come after him? He knows now the set-up has turned sour. He knows Timoteo has taken off with your wife. He's smart. He knows you will be after his blood. How do you imagine he has survived for so long? Because he's lucky?" He took a cigarette from his pack that I had left on the parapet and lit it. This is going to kill me, but if I don't smoke I'll flip my lid." He coughed like a man with lung cancer as soon as the smoke reached his sore throat and cursing, he threw the cigarette away. "That's the way you and I will go, soldier . . . like dead butts." He waited a moment while he wheezed, then went on. "He knows you will come after him. He is a judge of men. I've worked for him since I was a kid of fifteen and he is an expert in judging men, so he knows you now plan to fix him. But lie has a trained organisation to take care of guys like you. He is up in his lush suite at the Imperial Hotel. He likes living there. The staff drop on their knees and beat their stupid heads on the carpet at the sight of him and he loves that. So a punk like you, soldier, won't shift him out, but he knows the danger points." He gave a snorting, derisive laugh. "You're aiming to nail him as he sits on the balcony of his suite, aren't you? You aim to use the apartment block across the way to get at him."

     "That's the way I'll get him," I said.

     Raimundo threw up his hands in despair.

     "Do you imagine he hasn't thought of that? He thinks of everything."

     "I'll kill him from there."

     "You're just sounding off," Raimundo said angrily. "By now, that apartment block will he swarming with his button men. You'd never get within a hundred yards of it! That is the one place Savanto can be got at and that's why it will be made safe!"

     I swung the rifle from one hand to the other.

     "Because it is safe, it is the one place I can get at him," I said.

     Raimundo gaped at me.

     "It's because he is sure and his men will be sure the place is safe that it ceases to be safe," I said. "They will be so damn sure it's safe they will he looking elsewhere for the action to start. There are twenty floors in this building with around fifteen rooms to a floor and each room is empty. That offers me three hundred hiding-places, apart from the corridors. How many men do you think will be guarding this block of apartments? At a guess, ten men who are quick on the trigger and very alert. Where will they be? Five of them will he covering the entrances. There will be a couple of men covering the elevators and there are certain to be at least two men on the top floor which overlooks the hotel. They will be so satisfied that the other guy is alert, they will cease to be alert after they have been at action stations for more than three or four hours. They will be no different from Army sentries and I know how they behave. I'm going to take a look at the place. Do you want to come?"