Sebastian shook his head. “First I want to know how you got here. I understood you were coming on the Santa Eugenia, and I’ve been checking on it every day.” He tossed his shot of pinga down his throat, grimaced at its harshness, and handed the empty glass to the girl for refilling, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “This morning I found out she wasn’t stopping in Rio.”
He took the replenished glass from the girl and dropped into a chair across from the watchful Nacio. Iracema came to sit on the arm of his chair, resting one hand lightly on his shoulder. Nacio studied her face; there seemed to be something almost maternal in the glance she was giving Sebastian; Nacio’s lip curled. The heavyset man drank and laid aside his glass. “And it’s just as well she didn’t dock...”
Despite the soothing narcosis of the liquor a slow burning anger began to grow in Nacio. Just as well the ship didn’t dock? Just as well for whom? Maybe just as well for this overstuffed middleman of crime, too cowardly to do his own killing, sitting here in comfort with his overblown girl friend, while he had had to suffer to make it to shore. Some of the anger showed in his voice.
“What do you mean, just as well?”
“Just what I say.” Sebastian frowned at him, not understanding why Nacio appeared irritated. “I mean that every ship that has docked in Rio these past few days — freighter or passenger liner — has been checked by the police from one end to the other. I mean if you had been aboard her and the Santa Eugenia had docked here, you would almost certainly be in the hands of the police right now.”
Nacio stared at him blankly, his anger disappearing. Sebastian nodded. “That’s right. So how did you get here?”
A slightly wolfish smile touched Nacio’s thin lips. “By the Santa Eugenia.” He shrugged. “When I found out they weren’t docking, I managed to get sick — sick enough so that the captain arranged to have me taken off the ship. By helicopter.” His grin widened. “Very simple.”
Sebastian shook his head slowly. “You were born with the luck of a seventh son. Let’s just hope you stay lucky.”
“Don’t worry about my luck.” Nacio reached over for the bottle, poured himself another drink, and tossed it down. He considered the bottle a moment and then placed it at arm’s length from the chair, as if indicating that the time for relaxation was over. “Anyway I’m here. So what’s the job? And regardless of what Iracema knows or doesn’t know, I still prefer to talk business with you alone.”
Sebastian leaned forward. “I told you before that Iracema knows about you and about the deal. In fact, she insisted on knowing all about you before she agreed to work with you.”
“Work with me?” The smaller man’s cold eyes became even colder. “I work alone. You know that.”
“Not on this job,” Sebastian said calmly. “On this job you work with Iracema. Because it’s necessary to the whole plan.”
“Then change the plan! I work alone.” His tone was flat. “And if I ever do work with anyone else, it won’t be a woman.”
Sebastian studied the thin tense face calculatingly. The larger man was well aware of the potential dynamite stored up in his smaller companion, but he was also aware that for the job he had been commissioned to complete, nobody could do it as well as Nacio Mendes.
“Listen to me, Nacio. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever had a hand in. This thing has been planned to the last—”
“I don’t care how it’s been planned.” Nacio’s lips twisted slightly and then straightened. “I still work alone.”
The larger man took a deep breath. “Then I’m sorry, but you’re out.” He raised a fleshy hand, forestalling any immediate reply. “I’m sorry, but there’s too much at stake here, and far too much money involved to change any plans now.”
Nacio’s eyes narrowed; an argument from Sebastian was something he had never expected. The big florid man was a coward, and Nacio knew it. And was also aware that Sebastian knew it. He suspected with a sudden touch of insight that the girl also knew it, but that for some unaccountable reason found this one of the man’s attractions. Well, whatever the motives, Nacio had no intention of changing his methods. He relaxed, shrugging.
“And where does that leave me?”
“Just where you are.” Sebastian seemed to be relieved that there had been no outburst. He spread his hands, but his eyes remained sharp. “In Rio, where you wanted to be, and at my expense, if I may remind you. And with no obligations.” He turned his head to the girl on the chair arm. “So I guess we’ll have to go into Nova Iguaçu after all, querida, and talk with Pedroso...”
The smaller man across from him smiled sneeringly at this transparent attempt to intrigue him. “Pedroso? He couldn’t hit the deck of a ship if somebody dropped him off the bridge.”
“He could hit the man I want him to hit,” Sebastian said evenly, turning back. “And that’s all that counts. And he’ll work with Iracema, and follow orders. And that also counts.”
Nacio sneered. “Fair enough. You’ve just hired yourself João Pedroso. Good luck to all three of you. I’ll see you in jail.” He reached out and retrieved the bottle, pouring himself another drink. He raised it in a sardonic toast and then paused. “Just for the record, though, how much money did I talk myself out of?” His eyes were mocking the pair across from him. “In Lisbon you kept talking about how big the job was, but you never did get around to mentioning figures.”
For a moment a cruel gleam of satisfaction came into the heavy man’s face. Beside him, Iracema’s breath quickened a bit. “Just for the record,” Sebastian said softly, “just so you appreciate the situation, you just talked yourself out of twenty million cruzeiros...”
There were a few moments of dead silence.
“That’s right,” Sebastian said quietly. “Twenty thousand conto.”
Nacio set his full glass carefully on the floor and sat back again, his eyes sharp on the other’s face. Sebastian never joked with him. He glanced at the girl and then back again. “All right. Who is it? What’s the deal?”
“No deal,” Sebastian said and shrugged a trifle elaborately. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to work with Iracema.”
The smaller man waved this aside with the contempt it deserved. “You know better than that. For twenty thousand conto I’d work with the devil. What’s the deal?” He frowned, considering. “Who’s worth that much dead? Or at least twice that much, since you never take less than half?” His eyes narrowed further. “And who’s paying? Who’s paying that much money to have someone killed?”
Sebastian shook his head. “As to your victim, you’ll be told at the proper time. As for the principal? You’ll never be told.”
Nacio accepted this; the identity of the principal was one he rarely knew, and one that never meant any more money in his pocket in any event. But the victim? “Why not the name of the victim now?”
“Because,” Sebastian said evenly, “if anything should go wrong, or if the police should recognize you and pick you up — beforehand — the less you know the better. Because the scheme wouldn’t stop. It might mean Pedroso, or even another, but the scheme wouldn’t stop.”
Nacio nodded. It was a logical answer and one he was prepared to also accept. Twenty thousand conto! A fortune! Even translated to dollars, accepting the miserable exchange of the day, it was over twenty-two thousand dollars, far above any fee he had ever dreamed of! He recalled once when he had killed for as little as five.