“I think you have something of mine,” he said.
“I do,” she said. She turned to Hans. “Take her back to her room. Cuff her to something. And fix the goddamned door.”
Hans stood up and held out his hand. The chief dropped the key to the handcuffs into the center of his palm.
“Otto,” she said, “fetch that twelve-year-old whiskey the chief likes, then go out and buy hasps and padlocks.”
When she and the chief were alone, she said, “I need some people to do a job.”
He thought about it for a moment. “Hell, Carla. I’m already taking a big risk here, what with those federals being in town and all. Tell you the truth, the only reason I brought the girl back is because I know I can trust you to take care of her.”
“You can. And to make sure there’s even less risk for the two of us, I need some people.”
“How many?”
“Two should be enough.”
The chief picked up his glass of whiskey, put it under his nose and sniffed at it before taking a sip.
“You’re going after those federals, aren’t you?”
“Do you really want to know?”
The chief didn’t reply to that. He took another sip and looked at the ceiling, debating the wisdom of getting involved.
“Cost you,” he said at last. “Cost you a bundle.”
“How much?”
“Fifty.”
He was just trying it on and Claudia knew it. Fifty thousand Reais was outrageous.
“Twenty-five,” she said. “Reais, not dollars.”
“You’re busting my balls, Carla,” he said and raised the glass to his lips. This time he swished the whiskey around in his mouth before swallowing it.
She didn’t say anything, simply waited him out.
“It just so happens,” he said, “that I got just the people: real nice guys, Joaquim and Luis Almeida. And when I say got, I mean it literally. They’re in a cell down at the delegacia. ”
“What are they in for?”
“Killing an old couple by the name of Mainardi. The wife was eighty-four, the husband was eighty-six. There was a rumor the Mainardis were keeping their savings under a mattress. I don’t know how that kind of shit gets started. You got to be an asshole to believe it. Anyway, the old guy told them it wasn’t true, but the Almeida boys didn’t believe him. Not at first, anyway. Not until they’d killed the old lady in front of him. Then they believed him, but by then it was too late. They figured they had to kill him too. And they might have gotten away with it, if they hadn’t been drinkers. Joaquim shot his mouth off to someone in a bar.”
“You think they could stay sober long enough to do this job?”
The chief nodded. “Here’s the deal,” he said. “You give me the twenty-five. I have a little talk with them. I tell them I’m gonna let them loose, but on one condition: they have to do a job for you.”
“And they’ll buy that?”
“In a heartbeat. I’ll tell them I get a cut. Being greedy bastards, they’ll relate to that.”
“How much do I offer?”
“Not too much.”
“How much?” she insisted.
The chief shrugged. “Best way to work it is this: You explain the situation and ask them to set a price. Don’t agree right away. You’re not going to pay them anyway.”
“I’m not?”
“No, you’re not. But you don’t want them getting suspicious. Keep it simple. Plan it for them, otherwise they’ll probably fuck it up.”
“And afterward?”
“Afterward, you kill them. The Almeidas are scum. They’re also broke, so there’s no other way I’m gonna earn money off them. And there’s no sense in letting them shoot their mouths off about this, or go back to being dangers to the good citizens of Manaus.”
“What good citizens?” Claudia said.
When the chief left, he was carrying a substantial part of her ready cash, twenty-five thousand Reais for the Almeida brothers and an additional five thousand for returning Marta Malan.
Two hours later, he dropped the two felons off at Claudia’s door. Joaquim was the elder of the two and the one who did all the talking. Luis sat and stared at Claudia out of a pair of thoroughly emotionless brown eyes. The eye color was about the only characteristic the two brothers shared, that and their willingness to kill people for money.
Joaquim was short, so short that he didn’t quite come up to Claudia’s chin. Luis, taller by a head, and with much broader shoulders, still had all his front teeth. Luis’s face was elongated and shriveled by some kind of a disease. He obviously hadn’t shaved in several days. The overall effect reminded Claudia of a jackfruit with hair.
Joaquim, in contrast, was clean-shaven and round-faced. The few front teeth he had left were stained with tobacco. He only showed them when he smiled, which wasn’t often, but he was smiling now, even after hearing that three of the people they were being asked to kill were federal cops.
Or maybe because of it. It wasn’t every day that somebody asked you to kill a federal cop. A “service” like that was worth a bundle.
“I’ll give you a group rate,” he said, “twelve thousand for all three of them.”
“Four thousand each,” Claudia said. “The cops might be worth that but a priest and a kid aren’t.”
“Wait a minute,” Joaquim said. “The chief didn’t say anything about a priest and a kid.”
“I’m saying it now,” she said. It had always been her intention to kill Father Vitorio and Lauro Tadesco as well, but Chief Pinto didn’t have to know that. If he did, he’d ask for more money. “A priest and a kid. How much?”
Joaquim ran a hand over his chin. “Three thousand sounds about right for a priest,” Joaquim said. “How old is the kid?”
“I don’t know. Eighteen? Nineteen, maybe. But he isn’t going to give you any trouble. I have the impression he’s rather naive.”
“Okay. A thousand for him. How much is that altogether?” “Sixteen thousand,” Claudia said. “I’ll give you thirteen.” “Make it fifteen and you got a deal,” Joaquim said.
“Fourteen, or you can go back to jail.”
Joaquim’s eyes hardened.
“Chief Pinto wants half,” he said. “So how much does that leave for us?”
“Seven,” Claudia said, “but since he doesn’t know about the priest and the kid, you can tell him I’m only paying you twelve. You give the chief six. That way you’ll walk away with eight.”
Joaquim might have been lousy at math, but the idea of screwing Chief Pinto obviously appealed to him.
“Done,” he said. “How do you want to do it?”
“We have to get them away somewhere. Not too far from town, but isolated enough not to attract any attention while you’re busy.”
Joaquim smiled. “I got just the place,” he said. “Little house off the main road. Dirt road to get to it. Brush and banana trees all around. Deserted.”
“Deserted?”
“Used to be owned by a couple of old farts named Mainardi, but they’re dead now.”
“All right. Now, do you know the favela of Sao Lazaro?”
“Yeah. That slum? What’s that got to do with the federals?”
“If you shut up and listen, I might tell you.” She waited for him to look suitably chastened, but it didn’t happen. He just kept staring at her out of those emotionless eyes of his.
“You go there,” she said. “You ask around until you find a school run by a priest by the name of Vitorio
