Vultures in the Playground Page 22

  “But if this doesn’t get exposed, they’ll keep on killing any politician or activist who rubs them the wrong way.”

  “My friend. This is the way the world goes round. Ever since there have been men on this earth, men have wanted things that belong to other men. These people are just culling the careless and the weak. But I have no worries. My security is top notch.”

  “You could have fooled me,” said Archie, looking about the open fields.

  “We did. It may not seem so professional to you, but that is what makes it so effective. My foes don’t think they need to try very hard. But if you had tried to approach me with your deadly pocket comb or whatever you have, do you see that silo over there?” He pointed to a cylindrical concrete structure. “That’s not used for storing grain. There is a man in there with a sniper rifle trained on your chest. But don’t worry; he is trained to distinguish aggressive acts from friendly gestures. It is very unlikely that you would be shot … unless I gave him a signal.”

  “I see,” said Archie, feeling suddenly very queasy. “But if I … or the man impersonating me … had a stethoscope. You would already be as good as dead by now.”

  “How so?”

  “You and your people thought I was a doctor. I could have easily vaccinated your rump with ricin and be gone in my taxi before you had any symptoms.”

  The President shifted in his seat and glowered.

  “An impostor would not have gotten so close to me.”

  “Are you so sure?” Archie glanced over to the silo. “That sniper you have in there, do you pay him well?”

  “As well as any soldier of his rank and specialty.”

  “Who’s to say he’s not working for someone who pays him better? Someone who’s given a nest egg big enough to die for … to his family?”

  The President made an odd little gesture with his fingers. Archie’s gaze whipped back towards the silo.

  “Calm down. I am just playing with you. I gave no signal. So we have both made our points. I would be happy to receive those papers now.”

  “What will you do with them?”

  “Oh, they will make excellent bedtime reading, and in time I will turn them over to our intelligence service. Maybe it will give us some leverage in our future dealings with these companies.”

  “But you won’t publicize them?”

  “Why would I? I would lose all my leverage. It would be bad for business.”

  Archie felt the spirit drain from him.

  “Don’t feel bad, my friend. You have done the right thing. Those who do these things will pay a price. I will see to that.”

  “Not if they get to you first.”

  “You need not worry about me. I am a survivor. I have an army and a police force to protect me. You, my friend, are the vulnerable one. Let me call Octavio back. I can have him provide you with an armed escort.”

  “Um … thanks, but … I don’t think that’s such a good idea. If they see me with one of your security people, they’d immediately know something was up. They still think I’m working for them.”

  “So what do you plan to—?”

  “We’re making arrangements to leave São Tomé tonight.”

  “Alright … but I strongly suggest you reconsider my offer. If these people are as nasty as you suggest, if you’re discovered, they won’t hesitate to remove you.”

  “Thanks, but I’d rather do this quietly … discretely. I don’t want them to know where we’re going.”

  “They will know it is Lisbon. Where else does one go from STP?”

  “Mmm-maybe,” said Archie.

  “Don’t be foolish. Here, let me at least give you Octavio’s number. If you change your mind. Call him. He is very good at getting things done.”

  ***

  When he stepped out of the gate, Archie thought the old man had gone back to town, but he was parked in a patch of shrubbery about a half a football pitch down the hill. A sullen-looking soldier in crisp fatigues accompanied him down the road. The old man cranked the engine as soon as he saw them. He got it started just as they reached the car.

  “Você disse-lhe que eu disse olá!?” said the old man, exposed a random collection of front teeth.

  “What did he say?”

  “He say: ‘Do you say hello from me?’” translated the soldier.

  “Oh sure. Tell him, I asked the Presidente to buy him a new cab.”

  The fan belt squealed as they rattled back onto the road. Archie felt an odd sense of ennui overcome him as he jostled in the sprung front seat. He hoped Melissa had been able to book them that flight to Cape Verde. There was nothing left to be done now but run and hide.

  He had retained a few mildly implicating papers collected from the last few briefcases, but the meat of the files had been left with de Marazul. He wondered if they were even worth hanging onto.

  Journalists these days were wedded to conventional wisdoms that maintained the status quo. The few mavericks were even more jaded about the ways of the world than Archie. He doubted they would find his story and such oblique documents interesting enough to pursue. Paris and obscurity beckoned.

  As the taxi wound down the long, shady stretch back to the coast, they passed the beige sedan that had followed them up from town. It was parked at a shady pull-out for a waterfall, facing downhill.

  Archie made eye contact with the driver as they passed him. He was a light-skinned black man with strong eyebrows and vaguely Middle Eastern features. He didn’t look like he was from around here.

  Maybe the guy was just a hiker. These pangs of paranoia might just be the mefloquine talking again. Archie adjusted the shattered side mirror to keep the beige car in view. If it stayed put, he could relax. As they went around the bend, the car pulled out behind them. Archie’s breathing throttled up.

  Chapter 34: Miramar

  White trailed the cab from as far back as he could and still keep it in sight. Occasionally, a truck or jitney intervened, and he let them. It helped to have a screen.

  Had Parsons noticed him? Perhaps. Though what could be suspicious about a black man in a cheap sedan driving on the only decent road leading up into the island’s interior. So he saw the same car twice. In place so constricted, of course that would happen. This wasn’t London, after all.

  Did it matter that he had been seen? Probably not. What could he suspect? Headquarters wouldn’t have informed Black that a second agent had been sent to São Tomé. Why would they? Black was, or had been, a proud man. He had valued his independence. Letting him know a second agent was on hand in case he failed would have been so very awkward.

  And even if Parsons thought he was being followed, what could he do about it? He had friends in high places, apparently, but whatever sway he had did not suffice to get him an official driver and escort. This was no VIP we were talking about. VIPs didn’t ride around in such shabby taxis.

  His little excursion had been doubly productive. He had a firm handle now on the identity and disposition of this Parsons character. He was also able to determine that de Marazul presented the softest target he had ever seen for a sitting President.

  The man was just begging to be ambushed. The only road leading up to his farm was narrow and full of unsecured switchbacks. One rifle burst would suffice take him out, assuming he didn’t ride an armored car. Alternatively, the numerous potholes and washouts provided plenty of places to set an IED, assuming the B team or Hodges could supply him with the proper explosives. There would be no need to infiltrate his palace or his farm.

  Now he had all his ducks in a row. Parsons and the girl would be his first priority, in no particular order. He would seize whichever opportunity came first, using no bullets, spilling as little blood as possible, relying on stealth and simple weapons. De Marazul, would come next, followed by a dash to either the seaplane or Hodges’ boat. Step number four: home to London and Alice and redemption!

  He followed the pathetic little taxi back into town. It took no evasive action, cutt
ing down the main promenade past the cathedral to the waterfront and right along the seawall. When they pulled in to the main entrance of the Miramar Hotel, White kept on going through the next an intersection, pulling off into a vacant lot near the stadium.

  He parked the sedan in the shade of some ragged palms, as small gang of boys in dusty school uniforms looked on. He had to separate two wires dangling from the dash to make it stall.

  “You boys watch my car and I’ll give you some dobra,” he said, in Portuguese. “You don’t let anyone near it.”

  “How much?” said an older boy.

  “Never mind how much. Depends on how well you watch it.”

  Two of the boys ran over and started wiping the hubcaps clean with some discarded rags.

  White tucked his shirt and smoothed his hair. He checked his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. Satisfied, he strode off towards the Miramar.

  ***

  They pulled up in front of the Hotel Miramar, Archie’s eyes following the beige sedan, glad to see it continue on its way. He tipped the cabbie well enough to make the old man laugh again about the absurdity of his day.

  “You go get this car fixed up,” said Archie. “Reparo do automóvel. Understand?”

  The old man winked and surged away, filling the overhang with blue smoke. A doorman waited before an open door.

  Archie scanned the cars parked in the turnaround. Arcadio’s black SUV was not among them. He entered the lobby, which smelled vaguely of ginger. Melissa was not there, and neither was anyone else, as the room was vacant. He tried to stay calm, but he had been gone plenty long for Melissa to have gotten to the airport, booked a flight and made it back to the hotel.

  And then her distinctive, liquid laugh rang out, joined by Arcadio’s staccato and resonant bray. They were in the restaurant. Relief trickled over Archie.

  He paused in the foyer, spotting spotted them sitting at a table in the far corner. They chatted in Spanish, Melissa leaning over an empty plate, her hand patting Arcadio’s wrist as she conveyed something uproarious about a dog.

  Those big round eyes burgeoning with life—boy was Archie glad to see her. And Arcadio, he looked so animated—joking, laughing—his voice loud and confident, almost cocky. It was if a switch had turned and selected another personality. He was a different person alone with her, like a high school boy courting. Did he have a thing for her, perhaps?

  Melissa spotted him and waved. “Archie! Over here.”

  Arcadio immediately clammed up. His countenance returned to its previous wary and diffident state. He rose as Archie approached and started to leave.

  “Excuse me.”

  “Oh no, Arcadio. Please stay and sit with us. Did you have something to eat?”

  “Oh we ate alright. Didn’t we, Arcadio?” said Melissa. “They make great sandwiches here, Cuban style, grilled with pork and pickles and cheese. Like my carving?” She held up an elongated, stylized figure of a woman carrying a basket on her head while a small boy tugged at the hem of her skirt.

  “Nice. Where’d you get that?”

  “Just around the corner there’s a place. Though, I see the hotel has a gift shop as well.”

  “So … were you … successful? At the airport?”

  “Well … sort of. No seats, but we’re on standby for a six forty-five flight to Cape Verde. They told me that there are always folks who don’t show, so there’s a good chance we’ll get on.”

  Archie winced. “Maybe we shouldn’t be discussing the details. You know … in front of ….”

  “Oh, don’t worry. Arcadio knows better. I told him to keep it under wraps. Opsec and all, you know.”

  “Opsec?”

  “Operational security.” Melissa grinned, wickedly, but then her smile flattened out. “One small problem. Our friends from Paga are here. Remember those guys from the crocodile pond?”

  “That support crew? Did they see you?”

  “Don’t think so,” she said. “But I don’t know how we’re going to get by them when we check in. They seemed pretty watchful.”

  “Why is it a problem? I’m Agent Black, aren’t I? I call the shots. If I want to jet off to Cape Verde in support of my mission, I will do so. Who are they to question me?”

  “I think your head might be getting a little too big, Arch. You’re pushing your luck.”

  “It’s no big deal. They’re just here to keep us out of trouble … like a safety net. I think one of them even followed me up to the President’s place.”

  “How’d your meeting go?”

  “Fine. But … he kind of blew me off.”

  Really? I would have thought he’d have been grateful for the warning. You did tell him—“

  “Yeah, I told him. Apparently assassination attempts are apparently no biggie to a guy like him. He was totally blasé about it.”

  “Fatalistic, maybe? Does he know who’s after him?”

  “Yeah, I told him. But he wasn’t even surprised.”

  Arcadio’s phone buzzed. “Excuse me.” He slipped it out of his pocket, and stepped out of the restaurant to answer it.

  “Archie, those guys at the airport worry me. Even if they don’t try to stop us, they’ll see where we’re going. Someone’s gonna get wise to this eventually … I mean why the heck would we go to Cape Verde with the job undone? Unless we’re—”

  “But Cape Verde’s just the first stop. Once we’re there we’ll have all sorts of ways of shaking whoever’s onto us. I mean there are flights to Brazil. Boats to Senegal and Mauritania.”

  “I guess I’m just nervous,” said Melissa, rubbing her fingers over her carving. “The people running this job can’t be as dumb as they seem, you know. I have this bad feeling that things are closing in on us. Arcadio’s been acting very strange. It’s as if he knows something that he’s not telling. Like he’s scared for us.”

  Archie sighed and twiddled with his napkin. “We need to be careful what we say around him. Remember, he still works for them. If he figures out I’m not Agent Black—”

  “I don’t think he cares.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I think he likes us. We could flip him if we wanted to.”

  “You mean, you could flip him.”

  “Yeah, I could. He was really laying on the charm before you came. It was kind of cute. He says he’s got quite the pad in Bata. Near all the clubs. Did you know that he was a musician?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. What’s he play?”

  “Guitar. He said he would play for me next time we’re in Bata.”

  “I bet he would. I think he’s got the hots for you.”

  “Oh?” Melissa’s eyebrows bunched. “Jealous much?”

  “Yeah, right,” Archie chuffed. “As if I had a chance with someone like you.”

  “Say what?”

  “You’re way out of my league, Melissa. Not to mention, way too young.”

  “Too black, you mean.”

  “That doesn’t even enter my radar.”

  “Hah!” Melissa shook her head and propped her chin on her palm. “To think, after all this time, I had not the faintest clue that you were interested in me.”

  Archie blushed. “Well … I’m not … I mean….”

  “You are a real dork. Do you know that, Archie?”

  ***

  White’s sat phone buzzed. It was Hodges. Headquarters must have shared his contact info. He stopped at the corner across the street from the hotel and leaned against a light pole.

  “Yes?”

  “Yo! Whitey?”

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Hodges?”

  “Hey … B team just flew in from Cameroon. They’re picking up a vehicle and coming to get me. We’re ready to rumble. Just tell us where to go.”

  “That’s a negative. You are all to stay put until further notice.”

  “Aw, Come on! Let us come to town. I mean, we’re your assets. You should be using us.”

  “I said stay where
you are. I will call if I need you.” He glanced back towards the boys scrubbing the stolen car. “But there is one thing you can do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Call that driver of yours. Find out where he went off to with the girl.”

  “But she was with Black … I mean, Parsons.”

  “That’s a negative. Parsons ended up going off on his own.”

  “Oh, okay. Will do. I’ll get on that.”

  “That is all.”

  White hung up. He didn’t want any help if he could avoid it. Going solo, there would be no doubt who to credit with the kills. He was determined to accomplish them with the same grace and precision that had earned Black his reputation. That would be his redemption.

  As he crossed in front of the Miramar, White dawdled down the sidewalk, pretending to enjoy the sea breeze and the play of light on the waves. Some people were having lunch at an outdoor café beside the hotel. Parsons and his lady were not among them.

  What were they doing at the Miramar, anyway? They were supposed to be lodging at Boca do Inferno with Hodges. They couldn’t have come here for the food. It was far from wonderful from what he had heard. The local elite came here only for the perceived ambiance.

  Maybe they wanted some relief from Hodges. Understandable. The man was a human gnat, the way he buzzed around, annoying the hell out of everybody. White had only met him once, on an op in Sudan.

  Or maybe they wanted to shag in their native environment—a luxury hotel, of which the Miramar was the closest thing São Tomé Town had to offer. The Miramar had the kind of icy sterility that a certain breed of northerner flocked to whenever they traveled south of the Sahara. The Sheraton in Addis was infested with such creatures.

  He turned down the walk to the Miramar and smiled at the doorman. He noted the absence of any security guards. A table off to one side had a metal detecting wand and a cheap x-ray unit, probably reserved for visits by dignitaries. It was a good thing they weren’t in use. They might have discovered and confiscated his little blade.

  The chill air of the lobby made his skin pucker and his arm hair stand on end. He stood outside a little gift stand selling crappy paintings, plastic beadwork and overpriced carvings.

  An Angolan gentleman was complaining about his bill at the registration desk. Behind him, his little boy played with a toy robot, feet swinging off a leather sofa.