I had walked into the punch and worse, I hadn’t seen it coming. Then I knew I was up against a fighter who might lick me. I felt a trickle of blood run down my chin. I wiped it away with the back of my hand, shook my head and got to my feet.
Timoteo stood away from me, his long arms hanging by his sides, his serious, goddam intellectual face expressionless.
I started towards him. He let me come within punching distance, then with the same professional arrogance, he slid my rush and again I found myself flat on my back from a bruising punch to the side of my head. This long slob carried a punch like the kick of a mule.
I stared tip at him. He had again moved back and was looking down at me. Behind him I could see Lucy watching, her eyes large and her hands to her face.
“You’re quite a fighter, aren’t you, you sonofabitch?” I said as I got to my feet. “Well, so am I.”
He could dish it out, but could he take it? I knew I could absorb a lot of punishment. I was built to take it, but could this thin beanpole take a man-sized punch?
He seemed rooted to the sand until I got within range of him, then he flitted away. He poked out a long left that thudded into my face and rocked me back.
Go ahead, slob, I thought, and I kept coming in to be jabbed away with long raking lefts. Up to now I hadn’t landed a punch on him, and I had taken half a dozen jolts, but I had taken such punches before. I again bored in. The left jab came again, but this time I was ready for it, I shifted and closed in. I hit him in the belly with all I had. I felt my fist sink in. I heard the breath come out of him like the sound of a burst tyre. I saw his face fall to pieces and I smashed my right to his jaw. He went down as if pole-axed. I stood over him, my chest heaving, blood from the cuts he had made in my face dripping on my chest.
Lucy ran between us and kneeling down, she lifted his head and cradled it against her breasts.
I watched her for a long moment, then I turned and walked down the sandbank into the sea.
I had a long swim ahead of me, but I was in the mood for a long swim.
The moon was coming up behind the palm trees as I came out of the sea. I had three things to do: I had to get a change of clothes; I had to pick up my car, and then I had to drive to the little white house and pick up the Weston & Lees rifle.
The villa where Lucy had been was in darkness, but I approached it cautiously. I moved through the flowering shrubs until I got round to the front of the house, then I paused to listen. I heard nothing. In the light of the moon I could see my Volkswagen parked where Raimundo had left it.
Nick and the other guards had been living in the place. In there, I would find a change of clothes. Although it was a temptation to jump into the car and drive away, I had to get out of my mud-stained, soaking-wet slacks and put on other clothes.
I found the front door unlocked. I moved into the darkness silently. I found the stairs and climbed them, listening, cautious all the time. The first door I opened led into a bathroom. The light from the moon was strong enough now for me to find my way around without turning on any lights. The second door led into a bedroom. There I found what I was looking for: dark slacks and a black sweat-shirt. The fit was tight but good enough. I also found with some impatient searching a pair of stout, leather-soled sandals. Holding the sandals in my hand, I crept down the stairs, paused at the front door to put the sandals on, then crossed the tarmac to the Volkswagen. I found the key in the ignition lock. With my heart banging against my ribs, I started the engine, engaged gear and drove down the drive.
No one shouted after me. When I reached the narrow road, I turned on the headlights and stamped down on the gas pedal. It took me under fifteen minutes to reach the road leading to the little white house. Here, I stopped the car, turned off the lights and walked the rest of the way.
Reaching the house, I saw it was in darkness, but even then I took my time approaching it.
The rifle was up on the roof where I had left it. Moving as silently as I knew how, I went up the steps of the verandah and moved into the dark house, pausing to listen. I heard nothing so
I went on up the stairs to the ladder that led to the roof, lit by the brilliant white moon.
Raimundo was sitting on the parapet, a colt automatic pistol in his hand : its blunt nose pointing at me.
“I’ve been waiting for you, soldier,” he said. His voice was husky and I could see in the light of the moon his throat was swollen. “I thought you’d be along to collect the rifle. No tricks unless you want a second navel. Sit over there.”
I rubbed my hand across my bruised, mosquito-bitten face and then walked over to the parapet about five yards from him and sat down.
I had tricked him once before and given time I could trick him again, but did I have the time?
As I sat down, he lowered the gun, resting it on his thigh. His left hand went to his throat.
“You goddam nearly killed me,” he said.
“What did you expect?”
“Don’t let’s waste time. Savanto knows Timoteo and your wife got away. You know what that means, soldier?”
“You told me. We’re dead men.”
“That’s it. Did you find them?”
“I found them. She and he are doing a modern Romeo and Juliet act.”
He stared at me.
“Those were the characters who died young… or is my education slipping?”
“They were the two.”
He continued to stare at me.
“I don’t know if I’m with you, soldier. Are you telling me Timoteo has stolen your wife?”
“That’s about right, but it isn’t one-sided.”
He touched his throat gingerly as he thought.
“Doesn’t seem to be your lucky day, does it?”
Probably it was his way of saying he was sorry.
“Any cigarettes?” I asked.
He tossed me a pack and a book of matches. I lit up and as I made to throw them back, he said, “Keep them; the way my throat feels I can’t imagine I’ll ever smoke again.”
“You had it coming.”
He grinned crookedly.
“I was holding on to the last pieces. Where are they?”
“Where you won’t find them.”
“I don’t want to.” Again he touched his throat. “But Savanto will find them. He’ll find you and me too.”
I didn’t say anything. I was tempted to say that I would find Savanto first, but I wasn’t sure if that kind of talk would pay dividends.
I watched Raimundo lay the pistol on the parapet by his side. I decided he was too fast, even slowed down by a swollen throat, for me to jump him.
“It won’t be long, soldier, before they come here and find us,” he said. “Then there will be some shooting. Then you and I will be dropped into the sea. Then they will go after Timoteo and your wife and there will be more shooting and they will be dropped into the swamp.”
I regarded him. His face was glistening with sweat. He looked like a man waiting to die.
“Are you telling me Savanto would have his own son murdered?”
Raimundo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“He has to. The word has gone out that his son has walked over his father’s face. That’s the way these people talk. No one walks across the face of the Boss and survives, even if he is the Boss’s son. If the old man is to remain Boss, Timoteo will have to go, and the old man is going to remain Boss, make no mistake about that.”
“Boss of what? Boss of a lot of peasants? Is that all that important to him?”
Raimundo hesitated, then shrugged.
“Why shouldn’t you know? I’m out of the deal now. Savanto thinks big, makes big plans and makes big promises. All these goddam peasants he talks about look on him as God. So to stay God, he must have money : the kind of money you and I can’t even imagine. His brother runs the Red Dragon organisation and this organisation has the money Savanto needs because they control the gambling and the drug traffic in Venezuela and that’s where the big money is. Toni Savanto, the brother, is dying of cancer of the liver. He can’t last much more than a couple of weeks… if that. Diaz, his son, is a very smart cookie and his heir. So long as he is alive, Savanto hasn’t a hope of taking over the Red Dragons. You would imagine nothing could be more simple than to knock Diaz off. The old man has only to tell me and I’d do it, but that’s not the way he works. Because a quarter of a million, simple-minded, starving peasants look on him as God, and because he is also beginning to think he is God, he doesn’t want it known he has blood on his hands. There are ten men known as the Elders who do the administrative work of the Little Brothers and Savanto is scared of them. They have the power, if they gang up on him, to ease him into retirement. These men would never go along with a killing, but they would go along with a vendetta. That’s part of their tradition.” Raimundo paused as he stared out to sea, then he went on, “So the old man’s problem was how to get rid of Diaz. With Diaz out of the way, the Red Dragons would be like a fat, sleek body without a head. The old man has only to reach out and stick his head on the headless body to have all the money he needs to make good his promises. So he cooks up this idea of getting rid of Diaz and establishing Timoteo, who is his heir, as a guy to be taken seriously. Timoteo was told what to do. When Savanto tells anyone what to do, he does it. So Savanto found a girl and Timoteo took her around until the Elders were sold on the idea he was in love with her. I know Timoteo couldn’t stand the sight of her, but he did what he was told. When the background was killed her. Just before she died, Carlo branded her face with the Red Dragon symbol which was stolen from the old man’s brother. Savanto called the Elders and showed them the girl’s body. He told them Diaz had raped and branded her as a challenge to Timoteo. The Elders fell for it. They said Timoteo had to kill Diaz. They knew Savanto had only to give the sign and Diaz would be dead, but that would he murder. But if Timoteo killed him, that would be justice. So Savanto had to put on a show. He knew he couldn’t force Timoteo to kill Diaz. Timoteo was a yesman to a point, but he stopped at murder. So you got involved, I got involved, and now Timoteo has fouled it up by running away. That puts him in trouble. The Elders know by now what he has done and they have turned their thumbs down. If Savanto wants to remain boss, he has to turn his thumb down too. So Diaz gets a new lease of life and Timoteo is marked to be hit. Later, Savanto will cook up another idea to get rid of Diaz. He’s full of those kind of ideas. So Savanto’s button men are after Timoteo. They will knock off your wife, you and me because we know too much. We are all dead bodies… make no mistake about that, soldier. The word has gone out.”