The Piranhas (3 page)

“Okay,” I said. Then I had a question. “Angelo’s not doing any business over there?”

My uncle was lying. “Of course not.”

I thought for a moment. It really didn’t make any difference. “Okay,” I said. “We’ll go together.”

My uncle was smarter than I was. I didn’t need any bodyguards. But Angelo always had four men with bulged armpits under their jackets, and since he was always with me, we had bodyguards. There was no trouble in Sicily. The small funeral service we had in the church in Marsala was quiet, with only a few people attending, none of whom I knew, even though we were supposed to be relatives. I received their condolences and embraces as the hearse carried the coffin to Palermo, where it was then transported by plane to New York. My father’s wishes were to be buried beside my mother. It was done.

*   *   *

A WEEK LATER
I stood in the cemetery as the coffin was placed in the ground. Silently I threw a handful of dirt on the coffin and turned away. My uncle and Angelo followed me.

“Your father was a good man,” my uncle said heavily.

“Yes,” I said.

“What will you do now?” he asked.

“Finish school. I’ll get my degree in business administration in June.”

“Then what will you do?” my uncle asked.

“Get a job,” I answered.

My uncle was silent. Angelo looked at me. “You’re an asshole,” he said. “We have many businesses that you could fit into.”

“Legitimate business,” my uncle added.

“My father wanted me to go my own way,” I said. “But I thank you for the offer.”

“You’re exactly like your father,” my uncle growled.

I laughed. “Exactly. As Angelo is exactly like you. Like father, like son.”

My uncle embraced me. “You are my family. I love you.”

“And I love you,” I said and watched him go to his car, then turned to Angelo. “What are your plans?”

“I have a date in town,” he said. He gestured toward the limousine. “I’ll go in with you if you don’t mind.”

“Okay.” We sat silently as the limo drove back into Manhattan. Not until we had gone into the Midtown Tunnel did I speak. “I want to thank you for coming to Sicily with me. I didn’t know it then, but I needed your support. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “You’re family.”

I nodded without speaking.

“My father means it,” he said. “He would like you to be with us.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “And I’m grateful, but it’s not the way I’m going.”

“Okay.” Angelo smiled. “I was always curious—why did your father change the name from Di Stefano to Stevens?”

“That was far enough from the family name,” I answered.

“But Stevens, that’s an Irish name. I don’t get it.”

“My father explained to me,” I said. “All Italians change their names to Irish when they change them.”

“And your name, that’s not Irish.”

“It was my father’s idea. He wanted me to be as American as I could.” I laughed.

The limo came out of the tunnel. He looked out the window. “Drop me off on Park and Fiftieth.”

“Okay.”

“Want to have dinner tonight? I have a couple of cute chicks.”

“I’m packing tonight. I’m going up to school tomorrow. But thanks anyway.”

“You’ll graduate in June?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be in touch with you,” he said. And he did so. Almost before I knew it, I was sweating on the back of a dilapidated old riverboat on the Amazon while he was down in the cabin screwing a crazy, beautiful Peruvian girl he had hired as a translator in Lima.

I stared up at the sunlight shining through the trees hanging over the riverbank. I was soaking wet with perspiration. I reached for a cigarette. Angelo had to be a better man than I if he could fuck in heat like this.

2

FROM THE BENCH
at the stern of the boat, I watched as the monkey moved expertly through the dense greenery on the shore. It swung gracefully from vine to vine. Suddenly it stopped and sat down on its haunches. It eyeballed me. It knew I was an amateur. Then it quickly disappeared when Angelo came up from the cabin. He was naked except for his designer bikini shorts, and the hair over his chest, shoulders, and back was matted with sweat. He took a bottle of beer and sucked on it. Disgustedly he threw it overboard. “Crap,” he said.

“No ice,” I said, looking up at him.

“Balls,” he said, throwing himself down beside me on the bench. He stared at me. “The bitch fucked me out,” he said with disbelief.

I smiled and reached for another beer.

“Why are you laughing?” he said angrily.

“I wasn’t laughing,” I said.

“I don’t believe it,” he said.

“She’s used to the heat. You’re not,” I said.

“Got a cigarette?” he asked.

I gave him the pack and watched him light up. “When are we getting out of here?” I asked.

“In the morning,” he said. “We should be loaded by ten o’clock, then we’ll take off.”

“I thought we were coming up for emeralds,” I said. “Now we’re sitting on two tons of coca leaves.”

“The Colombians don’t want our money, they want coca. We give them the leaves and they’ll give us the emeralds.”

I stared into his eyes. “You’re full of shit,” I said. “Now that I’m into it, why don’t you give me the straight story?”

“You won’t like it,” he said, returning my stare.

“Try me,” I answered.

“It’s the difference between two million and twenty,” he said.

“How do you figure that?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

“There were never any emeralds,” I accused.

He shook his head. “You’re family,” he said. “The only one I could trust.”

“Did your father know about it?”

“He didn’t want you to go. But it was my idea.” He shot his cigarette overboard. It hissed as it hit the water. “Besides you owed me one for Sicily.”

“Nothing happened there,” I said.

“Because I was there. I had four men to keep a blanket over us. Alone, you would have been wasted.”

I was silent. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Maybe I would never know. But it was over. “Now what do we do?”

“We go downriver to Iquitos. I have a DC 3 to take us to Panama. From there a Cessna Twin takes us to Miami, where we make the drop. We’re booked on Eastern to New York.”

I shook my head. “I was really an asshole.”

“I’ll never tell anybody.” He grinned. “It’s all in the family.”

“Do you know the people we’re meeting?” I asked.

“Not personally,” he said.

“How will you find them?” I asked.

“They’ll find us. It’s all been arranged. Customs has been paid off through Miami.”

“I want out,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not my game.”

“You can’t quit now,” he said. “All the charters are in your name. I had to do it. My name is on too many lists.”

“I still don’t like it. Too much could go wrong. We could be hijacked, we could be fingered by some snitch. It makes me nervous.”

Angelo looked at me, then went back into the cabin. He came up a moment later and placed a Colt automatic in my hand. “That’s insurance,” he said. “Do you know how to handle it?”

“I had one of these in Vietnam.”

“If anyone even looks suspicious, waste them.”

I handed the gun back to him. “No,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. He put the gun on the bench beside me. “I’m going in for a swim,” he said and dived off the back of the boat.

Alma came up from the cabin as he dived into the water. Angelo’s cotton shirt covered her down to her thighs. She looked at the gun, then at me. “Why did he bring a gun?” Her voice reflected only a faint Spanish accent.

“He wanted me to have it,” I answered.

She was a pretty girl, but her face looked worried. “Does he expect any trouble?”

“No,” I answered. I looked at him swimming in the water. “How is it?” I called.

“Great,” he yelled back. “Come on in.”

“No, thanks,” I said.

He called to Alma. “Come on, baby. The water’s fine.”

She hesitated, looking at me, then dropped his shirt to the deck and posed for me. “You like?” she asked in a teasing voice.

I laughed. “You’re a cunt.”

“And I think you’re a fag.”

“You’re not my girl,” I said.

“But you never even look,” she said.

“I have rules.” I reached for another cigarette.

She dived into the water. She disappeared beneath the surface and came up in front of Angelo about twenty yards from the boat. She grabbed him and pulled him down under the water.

“Loco,” the heavyset Peruvian captain of the boat spoke from behind me.

I looked at him.

“Tell your friends to get in the boat,” he said in his halting English. “It is not safe.” Something in the sound of his voice meant business.

“Angelo!” I yelled. “The
capitano
wants you to get back in the boat.”

“What the hell for?”

“He says it’s dangerous.”

“Horseshit.” He laughed. “The water is as calm—” He turned in the water, searching for the girl. “You bitch! Stop trying to grab my balls!”

“I’m not anywhere near you,” she called back to him from five yards away.

“Christ!” Angelo yelled—then screamed in pain. “What the hell is going on?” He thrashed about in the water trying to swim back to the boat.

“Piranhas!” the boatman shouted, picking up a boat hook and holding it out into the water.

Alma began swimming back to us. “They’re after me!” she screamed. She grabbed the end of the boat hook, and the sailor pulled her toward us, then drew her onto the boat. Her legs were punctured with tiny bites from which the blood was already oozing.

The sailor left her lying on the deck and tried to reach Angelo with the hook. I looked at him. Angelo was still thrashing and screaming but was moving more slowly toward us. I grabbed the boat hook from the sailor and took his arm so that I could lean farther toward Angelo. “Grab the hook, Angelo!” I yelled.

Still screaming in pain, he reached and grabbed the hook. The sailor and I pulled him heavily toward the boat; then the sailor grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him onto the boat.

I had seen terrible things in Nam but never anything like this. His right leg was eaten away almost to the naked bone, the flesh of his left leg hanging in tatters to the bones of his feet. Angelo was staring at me, his eyes clouded with pain and fear. He looked down at himself. He couldn’t form any words, only a moaning, screaming sound. His groin was a puddle of torn flesh and blood, his penis and testicles gone. He turned his head back up toward me and tried again to speak, but no words came from his mouth.

“He will die,” the captain said without emotion. “I have seen this before It will take one hour, maybe two, but he will die.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?”

The captain shook his head. “Kill him,” he said impassively. “Or let him die by himself in agony.”

I turned to Angelo. He spoke with his eyes. He knew what the captain had said. He managed a word. “Family.”

I knew what he meant. I reached behind me to the bench and took the automatic in my hand. With the gun still behind me, I flipped the safety off with one hand. Then I kissed him on the forehead. “Family,” I said and covered his eyes with my hand. Then I pulled the trigger.

Slowly I rose to my feet and looked down at him. Angelo was gone. And part of me was also gone. But another part of me was reborn. Family.

“What shall we do with him?” the captain asked.

For the first time I realized that the two other sailors were standing near us. “There is nothing we can do,” I said, gesturing toward the side of the boat.

“The watch,” the captain said, pointing to the Rolex on Angelo’s hand.

“Give it to me,” I said. I knew my uncle would want it. I turned to the girl lying on the deck, her eyes staring in fear. I heard the splash of Angelo’s body as it hit the water. I paused a moment and then spoke to her. “How do you feel?”

She was frightened. “You’re not going to kill me?”

Then I realized I was still holding the gun. I closed the safety and stuck it in my belt. “No,” I said. I turned to the captain. “What can we do for her?”

The captain knelt beside her. “She has not too many bites. The piranhas were too busy with your cousin. We will wrap some wet coca leaves on her, it will stop the pain, and she will heal.”

“Take her down to the cabin and take care of her. Then come back to me.”

“Sí, señor,”
the captain said.

I watched as he lifted her in his arms and took her down to the cabin, one of the sailors following with a sheaf of coca leaves. I sat down again on the bench at the stern.

A few moments later the captain came up. “My sailor is taking care of her. What can I do for you?”

I looked up at him. “Do you have a bottle of whiskey?”

“I have rum,” he said.

“Bring it,” I said. “I need a drink.”

3

THERE WAS ONLY
one large cabin below deck. A curtain was strung across the middle to separate my bunk from the larger bunk that Angelo and Alma had shared. Despite the half-bottle of rum I had swallowed, I was sober, not even the slightest buzz. The curtain was now pulled back, and I looked over toward Alma lying on the bed. She appeared to be sleeping, her eyes closed. A faint whisper of breath passed her lips.

I crossed the cabin and stood next to her bed. I touched her forehead with my palm. She didn’t have any fever. Then her eyes opened.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“Numb,” she said. “No feeling in my legs at all.”

“It’s the coca leaves,” I said. “The captain told me. It’s natural cocaine, a real painkiller. He said you only have small nicks, you’ll be okay in a day or two.”

“I feel heavy,” she said.

“He gave you some coca-leaf tea,” I said. “It will let you rest.”

She nodded. Then tears came to her eyes. “I feel sorry about your cousin.”

I was silent.

“I liked him,” she said. “He was crazy, but nice.”

“Yes,” I said.

“What will you do now?” she asked.

“I’ll go on, I guess,” I answered. “There is nothing else I can do.”