Tough as he was, the young man nodded. “OK, I’m on the way.”
He stood up, resigned to the situation; the leader was not to be reasoned with when he was in that kind of mood
Only moments after Oscar and Dick left the office, the lawyer picked up the telephone and was soon deep in conversation with another of his clients.
“Thought you ought to know a guy from Singapore is planning to pay off the mortgage on the fisherman Dick’s boat. Then he plans to go wreck diving!” The lawyer listened for a couple of minutes. “No he didn’t say whether he had any definite locations but he seemed extremely confident and the bank in Singapore who referred him to me tells me that he has successfully done this sort of thing before.” He listened again. “Yes I will let you know — and thank you a percentage would be most welcome. I’ll be in touch.” He smiled as he replaced the receiver and then called his secretary. “I want to edit one of our standard mortgage release contracts please.” She dipped her head in acknowledgement and started to write.
Greg agreed to meet with the caller, who had said in a conversational tone.
“If you bring me the location of the wreck where the gold is located, I will release your lovely Sophie unharmed.”
It seemed to be simple but Greg and Oscar knew from experience that it was unlikely to be so. Nevertheless they agreed, believing it was the best they could do and made their way to the appointed place at the old city’s “Intra Muros”.
They took a taxi, whose driver easily found the address. They paid him and waited on the pavement outside as instructed. The area was run down; refuse littered the sidewalk and sheets of old newspaper drifted about the unkempt road in the afternoon breeze. After several minutes, a car appeared and stopped about ten metres from them. A man leaned from the passenger window.
“Come with us please!” he called politely.
Oscar looked questioningly at Greg.
“What do you think?”
“I think we're stuffed without any choice!” he replied and ambled towards the car. “Where are we going?” Greg addressed the speaker.
“You want to see your girl, no?” the man replied. “So get in — only you, not the old man.”
Greg looked back at Oscar.” Don’t worry I’ll sort this out in no time,” he said and ducked into the open rear door of the car, which lurched away as the door slammed shut.
Oscar was left in shocked surprise at the speed of the incident. He looked hopefully up and down the empty thoroughfare, wondering what to do next. He was close to panic but took a deep breath and clenched his hands.
“Steady boy,” he muttered to himself, “steady.” He squared his shoulders and walked briskly to the end of the scruffy lane where it re-joined a livelier street. Once he was back amongst the throng of hurrying people he felt less vulnerable but still didn’t know what to do. He thought of Marion — he knew he desperately needed her company as he walked aimlessly along the street.
This part of the city was the centre of its lowlife culture. Neon signs flashed lurid messages tempting potential clients into their dingy interiors to participate in a variety of bawdy excesses. Oscar stopped outside a window purporting to be an “Air-Conditioned Parlour”. His mouth was dry and he desperately needed a drink of water. He went inside without hesitation; it was so poorly lit inside that he felt as if though he were blind after the natural sunlight outside. He peered into the gloom and groped his way to a bar. The smell of stale cigarette smoke was so nauseating that he was about to return to the street, when a scantily clad woman appeared out of the murk.
“What can I get you?” she asked uninterestedly.
“Just water please,” Oscar mumbled, suddenly aware of the type of parlour he had entered.
The woman reached under the counter and produced a bottle of water.
“Ice?” she asked.
He was becoming accustomed to the gloom and noticed the thick gaudy lipstick and false eyelashes.
“No thank you, just the water,” he replied well aware that ice in such an unhygienic establishment would almost certainly leave you with a severe reminder of your visit.
She placed the bottle and a glass on the counter.
“That’s ten dollars American”
“Ten?” Oscar questioned in astonishment.
“All drinks are ten bucks here Mister!” the indifferent barmaid replied, expertly putting a long filter tipped cigarette into the corner of her mouth.
Oscar pushed a note across the counter and poured some of the water. “What is this place then?” he asked, well aware by now of the answer.
She looked at Oscar, lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, savouring the moment then replied,
“This is a house of fun for ladies or gentlemen — you understand what I mean?”
His eyes had become accustomed to the blood-red gloom of the internal décor so he could see into the “parlour” now. There were several tables and chairs but as far as he could tell there were no other people.
“Not very busy is it?” he observed.
“This is only the reception the business goes on downstairs; so you fancy a young girl or something then?”
The full horror of his position suddenly welled up within him.
“No I’m trying to find a friend,” his voice trembled yet suddenly he was pouring out the whole story to his unlikely confessor.
The barmaid did not interrupt the flow and patiently allowed Oscar to finish his agonising saga of looking for the kidnapped Sophie; then how Greg had being whisked away in a unknown car and it all somehow revolved around the fact that they were looking for David the fisherman’s wife. When he finally stopped he was trembling and a trickle of sweat ran down his forehead. For the first time in twenty-five years the memory of a heroin injection and its balmy seduction swam before him.
“Here, drink some more water,” She said.
Hypnotically he took the glass.
“Come on drink!” she urged him. “What you need is something a bit stronger!”
“No, no” he rebuffed her, remembering the lure of the needle. Thankfully years of abstinence had adequately strengthened his resolve to resist such a moment, but that brief spine-chilling reflex had however still been terrifying for him.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, pulling himself together and sitting upright. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all my problems on to you.”
“Don’t worry my friend. I know exactly what it’s like — I wouldn’t be stuck in a dump like this otherwise would I?” She removed the cigarette from the red painted mouth and offered an understanding smile. “Tell me again, this David the fisherman, does he have smart new a boat down on the fish quay?” She put the cigarette back into the corner of her mouth.
Oscar looked up at her.
“Why yes. Do you know him?”
“Well not really but I know that one of the girls who works downstairs — if you know what I mean — claims to have a fisherman husband with a posh new boat!” She leaned across the counter as if it were necessary to be more confidential. “She’s a complete junkie and does absolutely anything for a few bucks!” She stood back and moved to the array of bottles on the shelf behind the bar, selected a bottle of Scotch whisky and poured some into Oscar’s glass.
“Here, this is the best medicine at a time like this eh?” Then she picked up another glass and poured double the quantity for herself.
Oscar nodded and picked up his glass.