“Report all you want. Any more than thirty kilometers from the center, and I’m off the meter. I can set my own price. And my price is four hundred, half now and half before we leave.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to hang around out here for nothing. And I’m not going to drive you back to town and have you stiff me for the other two hundred.”
Hector took out his wallet, threw two hundred Reais onto the front seat and got out.
“Don’t slam the fucking door,” the driver said.
Hector slammed it anyway.
“Refreshment stand over there,” Goncalves said. “Let’s get a drink.”
Their feet kicked up little puffs of dust as they crossed the parking lot. Halfway there, a man in a green uniform intercepted them. He pointed at the case Goncalves was carrying.
“Is that a white string on the handle?”
“It is,” Goncalves said.
“Then follow me. I’ll lead you to the birds.”
“Birds? What birds?”
The man seemed puzzled. “You don’t know about the birds?”
“If I did,” Goncalves said, “I wouldn’t be asking. You work around here?”
“Well, duh!” the man said. “If I did’t, why would I be wearing this uniform?”
“Because you drive the local garbage truck?”
“I’m a park ranger, wise ass. So watch your step.”
“And I’m a federal cop. So you watch your step.”
“A federal cop? At your age? Don’t make me laugh.”
Goncalves fished out his ID and held it in front of the ranger’s face.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the ranger said. “You don’t look to be any older than-”
“Answer the question.”
“What question?”
“What goddamned birds?”
“The goddamned birds I’m supposed to be taking you to.”
“Cool down,” Hector said, “both of you.”
“He started it,” the ranger said, pointing at Goncalves.
“The hell I did,” Goncalves said.
“Tell us about this place.” Hector said. “Let’s start there.”
The ranger positioned himself so he could turn his back on Goncalves.
“This place,” he said, “is the Jacupiranga State Park. You know what spelunkers are?”
“People who like to explore caves?”
“Right. This is one of the best spots in the whole country to do just that.”
“I know. Caverna do Diabo.”
“Not just Caverna do Diabo, which, by the way, is so huge there’s another entrance called the Gruta de Tapagem. For years, people didn’t know the two were connected.”
“We’re not here for tourism,” Hector said.
“Well, hell,” the ranger said, getting annoyed again. “You’re the guy who wanted to know what this place was all about.”
“Show us the goddamned birds,” Goncalves said, getting annoyed right back.
“This goddamned way then,” the ranger said.
“Hold it,” Hector said. “First I want a drink.”
They went to the refreshment stand where Goncalves, who’d offered to pay, discovered that water was eight Reais a bottle. It did nothing to improve his temper.
Each cop drank two bottles. In Sao Paulo, they could have bought a case of beer for the same money.
“Now,” Hector said, “the birds.”
It wasn’t far, not more than a ten-minute walk. The ranger brushed some vines aside and led them into a small opening in the face of a hill-the entrance to a cave. From somewhere in the darkness they could hear cooing, and the flurry of feathers.
The ranger switched on a flashlight. The beam glittered along limestone and finally came to rest on a stack of cages against the far wall.
“What the hell is this?” Goncalves said.
“Pigeons,” the ranger said. “He told me to make sure none of them got out because, if they did, they’d fly off and never come back.”
“Who was the he?”
“Some kid. I never saw him before.”
“How old?”
“Maybe sixteen.”
Hector looked at Goncalves, “Another damned cut-out,” he said.
“A what?” the ranger asked.
“The guy who put these pigeons here didn’t want to be identified,” Hector explained. “He paid someone else to talk to you, probably brought some street kid from Sao Paulo.”
“That’s what you call a cut-out?”
“That’s what we call a cut-out. How would they have known about this cave?”
“You can buy a map of all the caves at the refreshment stand. It costs four Reais.”
“Half the price of the goddamned water,” Goncalves grumbled.
“Don’t blame me,” the ranger said. “I don’t set the goddamned prices.”
“Why do you suppose he chose this particular cave?” Hector asked.
“The caves are rated from one to five stars. Five stars are the best, the ones nobody wants to miss. This is a one-star. One-stars are nothing.”
“So this one wouldn’t be visited often?”
“If somebody comes in here once a year, it would be a lot. And then it’s probably only because they’re looking for an out-of-the-way place to take a shit.”
Goncalves wrinkled his nose. “Shit? Is that what stinks in here?”
“That’s the birds. They’ve been here for a week. I’ve been feeding them. That was part of the deal.”
“You’re a state employee, right?”
“Right.”
“Aren’t there regulations about keeping pigeons in caves owned by the State?”
“If you’re looking for an excuse to bust my balls, forget it. This isn’t a cave owned by the state. We’re beyond the borders of the park. And what I do with my free time is my business.”
“What are we supposed to do with the pigeons?” Hector asked.
“If you hadn’t interrupted me, I woulda told you already. Look here.”
Perched on top of a large sack of pigeon feed was a cardboard box. From the box, the ranger took a mantle lantern, which he lit, then a smaller box and an envelope.
“You’re supposed to read what’s in the envelope,” he said, extinguishing his flashlight and putting it back in his pocket.
“What’s in it?”
“I got no idea. The kid told me not to open it.”
Hector took out a pair of latex gloves, pulled them on and broke the seal. Inside, there were two sheets of paper. He positioned himself so light would fall on the first one and read it aloud:
“Follow these instructions exactly:
Divide the diamonds into sixty units of approximately the same weight.
Remove the carrier bags from the box.
Put a unit of diamonds into each bag.
Zip each bag shut.
Fasten each bag to a pigeon (as shown).
