River of Death

'Naturally. That's why it was bought.'

'Where's the hovercraft? Corrientes?'

Smith said: 'How the devil do you know?'

'Logic. Wouldn't be much good to you here or in Rio, would it? I'll take this folder. See you this evening.'

'This evening?' Smith looked unhappy. 'Damn it, man, we have to draw up our plans and —'

'I'll draw up the plans. I'll explain them when I return with my assistants this evening.'

'Damn it all, Hamilton, I am putting up all the money. The man who pays the piper calls the tune.'

'This time out, you're second fiddle.'

Hamilton left, leaving behind him a brief but profound silence. Tracy said: 'Well. Of all the arrogant, hard- nosed, intransigent bastards —'

'Agreed, agreed,' Smith said. 'But he holds the cards, all of them.' He looked thoughtful. 'Enigma. Rough, tough, but dresses well, speaks well, obviously at home in any territory. Nuances, clever nuances. At ease in my drawing-room. Not many strangers are. Come to that, nobody is.'

Tracy said: 'And he's come to the conclusion that this Lost City is so dangerously inaccessible that he's not prepared to try the same route again. So — a helicopter. Or hovercraft.'

'I wonder.' Smith was still looking thoughtful.

'Why else would a man like that throw in his lot with us?'

'Because he's convinced he can eat us alive,' Maria said. She paused. 'Maybe he will at that.'

Smith looked at her without expression then crossed to the dining-room window. Hamilton was just moving away in his black Cadillac. A chauffeur stopped polishing a nondescript Ford, glanced towards Smith's window, nodded, climbed into his car and followed the Cadillac.

Hamilton was driving down one of Brasilia's broad boulevards. He consulted his rear mirror. The Ford was about two hundred yards behind. Hamilton increased his speed. So did the Ford. Both cars were now traveling well above the speed limit. A police car appeared behind the Ford, switched on the siren, overtook and flagged the Ford to a stop.

The Ministry of Justice was a rather splendid building and the large airy office in which Hamilton sat opposite across a polished leather table from Colonel Ricardo Diaz was suitably sumptuous. Diaz, in an immaculately cut uniform, was large, tanned and looked competent to a degree, which indeed he was. Diaz took a sip of some indeterminate liquid and sighed.

'About Smith, Mr Hamilton, you know as much as we do — everything and nothing. His past is a mystery, his present an open book that anyone is welcome to read. The dividing line between the present and the past can't be precisely delineated but it is known that he appeared — or, rather, emerged or surfaced in Santa Catharina, a province with a traditionally heavy Germanic settlement, in the late forties. Whether he is of similar origin is not known: his English is as immaculate as his Portuguese but,* as far as is known, he has never been heard to speak German.

'His, first business venture was to produce a newspaper aimed primarily at the native German speakers in the province but printed in Portuguese: it was conservative and strongly pro-establishment and marked the beginning of a long and close association with the government of the time, an association that has persisted, despite changes of government, until this day.

'He then branched out into the fields of early plastics and early ball-point pens. Smith was never an innovator — he was and remains a take-over specialist and a share manipulator of genius. Both the publishing and the industrial sides of his businesses expanded at a remarkable speed and within ten years he was, by any standards, a very wealthy man.'

Hamilton said: 'He couldn't have been without the odd cruzeiro to begin with.'

'Agreed. Expansion on a scale such as Smith's must have called for a great deal of capital.'

'And the source of capital is unknown?'

'Totally. But that's nothing to hold against any man. In this country — as in many others — we don't care to enquire too closely into those things.

'Now we come to Tracy. He is indeed the general manager of Smith's publication division. Very tough, very able, nothing known about him in the criminal line, which could mean that he's either honest or very clever. The best you can say of him is that he's a soldier of fortune. The police are certain that the bulk of his activities are illegal — diamonds have an odd habit of disappearing when he's in the neighbourhood — but he's never been arrested far less convicted. Serrano is a small-time crook, not too bright and a fearful coward.'

'He can't be all that cowardly if he ventures alone into the rain-forests of the Mato Grosso. Not many white people would.'

'That thought, I admit, has also occurred to me. I'm merely passing on reported reputation, accuracy not guaranteed. Now, Heffner. Heffner's the joker. Wouldn't recognise a camera if he tripped over one. Well known to the New York police. Associated with crimes of violence and alleged gangland killings, but he's always beaten the rap. Not too surprising really — no police in any country are going to come over all zealous and excited when one hoodlum dispatches another. Curious fellow. Usually well spoken and civilised enough — look at those pillars of society, the Mafia bosses — but the veneer vanishes when he gets next to a bottle of bourbon. And he has a weakness for bourbon.'

'And all this leaves Smith unaffected?'

'Nothing known against him, as I said, but you can't associate with characters like Hiller, Heffner and Tracy without some tar rubbing off. Could well be the other way round, of course.' He looked up as a knock came at the door. 'Come in, come in.'

Ramon and Navarro entered. The twins were clad in khaki suits and smiling cheerfully. Diaz looked at them and winced.

'The famous Detective-Sergeant Herera and the famous Detective-Sergeant Herera. Or infamous. You are far from home, gentlemen.'

'Senor Hamilton's fault, sir.' Ramon spread his hands apologetically. 'He's always leading us astray.'

'Mary's little lambs. Ah. Major.'

A young officer entered and unrolled on the table a map of Southern Brazil. It was marked with legends of varying kinds. Differently coloured flags in circles and squares indicated different tribes, races and languages. Other symbols indicated the state of hostility or friendliness of the tribes.

The major said: 'This is the most up-to-date picture the Indian Protection Service can give you. There are some places, you understand, where even the Service do not care to investigate too closely. Most of the tribes are friendly — pacified, if you like. Some are hostile. Nearly always the white man's fault. A very few cannibal tribes. Those are known.'

'And to be avoided, of course. The Chapate, Horenas and Muscias especially.'

Hamilton pointed at a town on the map and looked at Diaz. 'Corrientes. Smith has a hovercraft there — for obvious reasons. It's at the junction of the Parana and Paraguay rivers and he must be pretty sure the Lost City lies near the head-waters of one of those. I'm going up the Paraguay. I don't know it well, there may be bad rapids for all I know, but the helicopter can help if there are.'

Diaz said: 'Your friend has a helicopter?'

'My friend, as you call him, has got everything. This is a giant — a Sikorsky Skycrane. Well enough named — it can just about lift any damn thing. We'll base the helicopter at Asuncion. The hovercraft can go up in three stages — to either Puerto Casado or Puerto Sastre in Paraguay, then into Brazil to Corumba then finally to Cuiaba. From there the helicopter can airlift it to Rio da Morte.'

'And you would like to have some units of the Federal army exercising near Cuiaba, is that it?'

'If it can be arranged.'

'That has already been done.'

'I am in your debt, Colonel Diaz.'

'It would be more accurate to say that we are in your debt. If, that is to say —'

'If I come back?'

'Precisely.'

Hamilton gestured towards the two young men. 'With the heavenly two to watch my back, what harm can befall me?'

Diaz looked at him briefly and doubtfully then pressed a button. An aide came in carrying a brown leather