Malan took his head in his hands and looked down at the desktop, massaging his temples with his fingertips.
“This could ruin me,” he said.
“It certainly could.”
The deputado took a deep breath and looked up. A tear of self-pity appeared at one corner of his left eye.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said, “but I can’t help myself. It’s an addiction, like alcohol or drugs.”
The tear started rolling down his cheek. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it away.
“Like alcohol or drugs,” Silva repeated.
“So help me God. I’d never do anything like that myself. I just like to… watch it, that’s all. If I don’t buy that merda, someone else will. It’s not like I’m a one-man market, inciting those criminals to do what they do.”
Silva remained silent.
“The reason you’re here,” Malan said, “it’s money, isn’t it?”
“Partly,” Silva said.
“I knew it! You and your holier-than-thou attitude! Silva, the incorruptible cop! You have your price, just like everyone else. How much do you want?”
“For me? Nothing.”
“What?”
“The federal police’s budget allocation, Deputado. I not only want you to approve it as proposed, I want you to stand up in that committee of yours and fight for an increase of twenty percent.”
“I’m only the chairman. I only have one vote. I can’t guarantee-”
“Oh, I think you can, Deputado. I didn’t say fifty percent, I didn’t even say thirty percent. I’m a realist. Twenty percent will do us very nicely, and I’m sure you can get it.”
Malan’s tears had dried up, as if they never had been. This was something he understood. This was politics.
“Suppose I can. What else?”
“Stop demanding my resignation. Call my boss and tell him you were overwrought by your granddaughter’s murder, that you overreacted, that you want me kept on the case. Then tell the same thing to the press.”
Malan rubbed his chin. “I can’t do it.”
“Of course you can.”
“I’d be reversing myself.”
“Politicians do it all the time.”
“You don’t understand the political implications.”
“I understand them perfectly well. Consider the alternative.”
“You’re a bastard, Silva.”
“And you, Deputado, are a sanctimonious hypocrite. But you’re a powerful man in this country, and from now on you’re going to be our sanctimonious hypocrite.”
Malan didn’t react to the insult. Worse things had been said to him, even worse of him. “Sampaio know about this?” “No.”
“Who else does?”
“Only two of my trusted subordinates.”
“And I have your word it will go no further?”
“You have my word.”
Malan reached forward and swept up both sheaves of paper. “I’ll keep these,” he said.
“The names of the other Brazilians have been excised,” Silva said.
“I had no intention of-”
“Of course you did.”
Malan looked offended.
“And those are only copies,” Silva continued Malan narrowed his eyes. “The originals,” the deputado said, “will only be of use to you as long as they, like this conversation, are kept in the strictest confidence. We have a deal. Now, get the hell out of my office.”
Silva called the director from the airport.
“I just got off the phone with Malan,” Sampaio said. “What, in heaven’s name, did you say to him?”
“I reasoned with him, Director, pointed out the error of his ways.”
“He said he’s not only going to support our budget request, he’s going to push for an increase of twenty percent.”
“Yes, he mentioned that.”
“And he’s no longer calling for your resignation.”
“He mentioned that too.”
“What do you have on him, Mario?”
“Have on him?” Silva asked innocently.
Hector and Arnaldo were waiting when Silva got back to Manaus.
“We found The Goat’s boat,” Hector said. “The girls, and a henchman of his by the name of Osvaldo, were on board, but The Goat managed to get away.”
“How?”
“They were anchored off a sandy beach. He went ashore to swim. When he spotted the patrol boat he hightailed it over to the other side of the island and took off in an inflatable. Osvaldo said he had it stashed over there in case of emergencies.”
“Any idea about where he might have gone?”
“Roselia says he didn’t take much money with him, so he can’t afford to run far.”
“A man like that has money stashed somewhere. You can count on it. So Roselia’s still being cooperative, is she?”
“She wants him caught as much as we do. She was the only one who knew where he was, and he’ll hurt her if we don’t pick him up.”
“Five will get you ten,” Arnaldo said, “that he’s pissed at Claudia as well.”
“No bet,” Silva said. “And speaking of Claudia…”
“No sign of her. God knows how she does it, but she’s dropped out of sight again.”
“Her boat?”
“Hasn’t turned up. There are all these tributaries with overhanging trees. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”
“Get one of those heat-sensitive video devices. Put it in a chopper.”
“We’ve got one,” Hector said. “It doesn’t work well in this climate. Not with all of those trees. Claudia’s got a scientific background. She probably knows that. And, if she does, she will have chosen a place where the canopy is thick.”
“The boat is still her best bet to get out of here. Maintain aerial surveillance all night long. Maybe she’ll stick her nose out of her hole.”
“I can’t believe that bitch got away again,” Arnaldo said.
“She didn’t,” Silva said. “Not yet.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Hans Hauser pulled the visor of his blue cap low over his dark glasses and struck a pose in front of the mirror.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Claudia said.
“Into town. I’m going stir-crazy on this fucking boat.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Claudia said.
