“Damn it, Zé! If we put her in any danger by not calling a doctor—”
Da Silva relented. “Just relax. We’ll have her in good hands in a matter of minutes. With luck, that is.” He consulted his scribbled notes, picked up the telephone again, and dialed a number. At the other end of the line the instrument rang and continued to ring. Da Silva suppressed a smile of satisfaction. “Well, they’re not at his place at least.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He depressed the lever and raised it, waiting for the dial tone. This time he was slightly surprised to find himself a trifle breathless as he dialed the number and listened to the telephone at the other end begin to ring. Grow up! he commanded himself. You’re calling on a police matter; remember it. Still, he could not explain the disappointment he felt as the phone at the other end continued to ring without being answered. He was about to hang up when the receiver at the other end was finally raised.
“Hello?”
Da Silva grinned. How had he ever forgotten how intriguing that throaty voice was?
“Hello, Astrea? This is Captain Da Silva. Are you busy tonight?”
The sheer gall of the question almost left Astrea speechless — almost, but not quite.
“My dear Captain Da Silva! Do you mean you are calling me at one o’clock in the morning on New Year’s Day to ask me if I’m free this evening? Do you honestly believe that even if I had no date tonight that I’d consider one now? From anyone? Especially you? At an hour after midnight?”
“You don’t understand—”
“We finally agree on something, Captain! As a matter of fact, Dr. Martins and I just got back from watching the beach ceremony and then only to let me clean up and change my clothes. Which I have just finished doing. And we are now about to leave again. With your kind permission.”
Da Silva’s temper rose a bit. How could he ever have forgotten just how irritating that husky voice could be?
“Now, just one moment, Astrea! I said you don’t understand, and you don’t! If you’ll just let me get a word in, there’s something important I want you to do for me. I’m going to bring a girl over to your apartment—”
“Oh!” Her voice was furious. “I should have known it wasn’t me you wanted to see. You just want to use my apartment for one of your assignations, is that it?” She brought herself back under control, lowering her voice, willing it to sound impersonal. “I hate to interfere with romance, Captain, but I’m afraid the answer is no. What’s the matter with your own apartment? Curious neighbors?”
“Damn it, keep quiet!” Why was this woman able to irk him almost beyond control? “This is a police matter! Or, better yet — you say João Martins is there? Let me talk to him.”
“With pleasure, Captain. Only remember that I make the decisions about how my apartment is used.”
Da Silva winced as the receiver was apparently dropped from a height onto something hard. A moment later João Martins’ voice was in his ear.
“Hello, Zé? What did I tell you the other day? That girl really has something for you — I’ve never seen her so angry! What on earth did you say to her? She marched out of the room—”
“João! I don’t have all night! I need your help, and also Astrea’s.” Da Silva took a deep breath and recounted the events of the evening, from the rescue on the beach to the present position. “I want you to examine the girl and see if there’s anything you can do for her. And then I want her guarded. Constantly. A hospital is just too public and too dangerous. Somebody is going to a lot of trouble to keep her quiet. A policewoman is what we need, and a policewoman’s apartment. Not only to guard her, but also someone who can help her...” His voice trailed off
“Help her to the bathroom,” Martins said, understanding. “Of course. When will you be here?”
“I’m waiting for the wagon to pick up these two bodies. After that we’ll bring the girl over. And I’ll see to it we aren’t followed this time, too. All right?”
“It’s all right with me,” Dr. Martins said philosophically. “Going out with a girl who only wants to talk about another man — even when she only wants to insult him — is scarcely much fun anyway. I’ll explain to Astrea.”
“Good,” Da Silva said. “I’ll see you later.” He hung up; the telephone rang again instantly. He frowned and raised the receiver. “Hello?”
“Captain? Perreira here.” The lieutenant sounded slightly offended. “I’ve been trying to call you, but the line has been busy—”
“I know. When will the boys be here?”
“They should be on their way now. About that envelope, Captain, Ruy walked in a few minutes ago. He can probably explain it better than me. I’ll put him on.” There was a brief pause, and then Ruy’s voice came on.
“Captain?” There was deep satisfaction in his tone. “About that shoe you gave me — we were able to identify the man who bought it. The manufacturer shipped it to a small store called Sapataria Flumenence, and they remember selling this particular pair to a man named Benjamin Sampaio, remembered it mainly because it was a rather small size and also because he paid cash for them, which I guess is very unusual for their customers. Most of them pay so much down and so much a week. Forever, I guess—”
“We can’t all be rich,” Da Silva commented dryly. “Get on with it.”
“Yes, sir. Anyway, we started a checkup on this Sampaio. He was a dynamiter by trade—”
Da Silva stared at the telephone. “A what?”
“A dynamiter. A blaster. This outfit he worked for specializes in building foundations, and a lot of them have to be prepared by blasting out rock. Sampaio was an expert.” Ruy wondered at the captain’s amazement. “We shouldn’t be surprised, Captain. After all, he was killed while he was blasting.”
“I know, I know,” Da Silva said impatiently. “It’s just that I never thought of dynamiting as being a legal profession, although obviously it is. What else?”
“Well, that’s about as far as we could get right now. We’ll go into his past record more thoroughly tomorrow — after the holiday — when the company offices are open. They’re called the Caxias Construction Company, out in Duque de—”
“What!”
“—Caxias,” Ruy finished, and stared at the instrument, mystified. “What’s the matter, Captain?”
“Hold it! Hold it! Let me think.” Da Silva glared at the floor, trying to encompass the information. Was it possible? The man killed at the bridge and a thug involved in the attack on the girl, both with a background of having worked for the same company... Coincidence? Very doubtful. But what could be the connection between the two affairs? Only this Don Howard; it was the only possible connection. But how? It had to be something to do with radioactive minerals, since Jill’s brother was a geologist and the shoes had been radioactive. Was it possible that Jill’s whole act had been a fake and that it was her brother who had arranged for the dynamiting of the bridge? He shook his head. That raft with its load of scrap iron hadn’t been any fake! And how could the brother have got in touch with this Sampaio if he’d never been in Brazil before? Or had he? The girl had said she hadn’t, but that didn’t necessarily mean her brother had never been there. Or that either one of them hadn’t for that matter. And did this Don Howard know how to fly a plane? Da Silva cursed himself silently. Damn it, why the devil hadn’t he questioned the girl more thoroughly that day at Santos Dumont? In fact, why the devil hadn’t he questioned her at all?
“Captain?”
Da Silva took a deep breath, coming to a decision.
“Ruy, listen and listen carefully. This may be extremely important. I want a complete report on this Caxias Construction Company — their directors, officers, stockholders, if they have any, and also all their employees. Down to the last laborer. Do you understand? Men, women, and children! And I want it right now!”