Confrontation Ch. 03: Carlos Down

I've had a restless sleep, waking frequently to the sounds of the night-time street below. There was loud music, punctuated by catcalls and cheering for the strippers in the club across the street. After it closed for the night, shouts reached my window from the street hookers, breaking the stillness.

"Mister Sagres. You fuck me? My friend too?"

They'd seen me with a box of beer a few days ago and aren't giving up.

Now it's six o'clock in the morning, and traffic is already moving through the narrow streets of this shabby district of Manaus. I go to my window to see the sun rising like a bleeding eye on the misty horizon. The air is already warm and thick with humidity. It's going to be another hot one.

I walk quietly to my partner Elena's room. She's Hispanic, and about forty, from the National Archaeological Museum in Lima, assisting me in this investigation. Last evening, she was pushed violently to the street by a courier driver fleeing with a valuable piece of stolen Peruvian heritage. I put her to bed last night with several ounces of fiery Pisco to ease her pain, and I wonder how she is doing this morning.

So I peak into her bedroom and see that she is still asleep, partly covered by a sheet. Her room is warmer than mine since there's no window, and she has tossed off the bedcover, exposing part of her upper body. I can't help but gaze at her smooth mocha skin and the full breast peaking out beneath her arm. My groin turns. Then I notice an angry abrasion, no longer bleeding, where she scraped her arm against the wall or sidewalk.

One more look at her lovely body and I turn away. Shit! It's been far too long without having a woman, and this very desirable one is right here by me. Across the street there's a whole club full of them ready for anyone who'll pay. How much can a man take? I've got to get my mind off this!

I'll make some coffee and decide where to go with the investigation today. More important is the broader question: should we persist with it, despite growing danger, or pull back to Lima to appraise our progress? Elena's injury has rattled her, so she favours retreat, warning me that I might be the next one hurt. But I prefer to forge on.

At the moment, that's what I intend to do, so I make a plan. When Elena wakes up, we'll evaluate her condition to see whether she should be taken to the hospital. If she still declines, I'll need to go to a pharmacy to buy some pain medication for her. I can't keep feeding her booze all day.

Then there's the information we recorded for that delivery van las night. Another police station visit, and possibly a bribe might help establish a link in the smuggling chain. Of course, we'll need to continue surveillance across the street too.

I'm almost finished my morning coffee when Elena comes into the kitchen. She looks awful, her face tired and hair bedraggled. She has slipped on loose pants and a short-sleeved blouse, with the buttons misaligned so it hangs crooked. Does she feel as bad as she looks?

"How are you feeling this morning, Elena?"

"Tired and sore. It was hard to get comfortable and I felt so hot in there."

"We should trade bedrooms so you can have the window at least."

"OK, but what I really need is some strong coffee."

"I'll make it for you. Sit down. Are you in much pain today?"

"Some. Headachy and my arm stings. Some bruises on my legs, but I'll live," she says bravely.

"To the hospital this morning?"

"No, get me some pills at the pharmacy and I should be feeling better by the end of the day."

I busy myself with boiling a pot of water on the hotplate, then pouring it through the coffee filter. This place is poorly equipped, so even something as simple as this takes time. It reminds me of an indoor camping trip in some ways. Finally, it's ready and we sit across from each other at the little table. There's something important to discuss.

"About going back to Lima, do you still want to do that, Elena?"

"Well... it is dangerous here."

"But I think that we're getting somewhere. We've seen two treasures change hands now and I feel that girls working across the street are the ones bringing the goods across from Peru."

"Our heritage is important, but so are our lives, Carlos."

"Another visit to the cops. Some more surveillance. If we could figure out where these things go from Manaus, then we'd be ready to take stock and go home."

"So, you want to stay on?"

"For just a little while longer. Just enough time to find out the next link after the bar. Surely the chain doesn't end here in the middle of nowhere? There's an organized gang, maybe even a syndicate, behind this smuggling. "

Elena doesn't say anything for a bit because she's thinking about what I've suggested. Then she shrugs her shoulders.

"OK, Carlos. But just a little while longer. I don't want anybody to get hurt. These are violent people in a dirty business."

"I agree, Elena. Just until we learn a bit more, then we pull out. We'll go back to Lima with what we've got, and Jaguar can decide what comes next. OK?"

"Yes, but not a minute longer."

"Sure. One more thing."

"What's that?"

"Your blouse is crooked. Check the buttons."

She looks down and we both laugh.

I don't want Elena going out today because she needs to rest and recover from what happened last night when she tried to stop the van driver speeding away with the priceless Nazca pottery. She agrees to stay inside while I go to the pharmacy and nearby store.

I buy the strongest over-the-counter pain-killer available. Then I pick up some food for today and another box of beer. Fortunately, I'm not harassed by any hookers on the way back. I pass by a liquor shop and buy a bottle of Pisco to replace the one we finished off last night.

When I return, the seedy apartment is already to starting to heat up. The merciless tropical sun is arching overhead, drawing the moisture of the jungle into rising clouds. The humidity is already building, and this place has few windows. The air will be stifling before long- just another day in paradise.

I see that Elena has the viewer trained on the boss's window across the street. She's watching quite intently, as if something might be going down in his office.

"What's happening over there?" I ask.

"He just took another big, flat mailing envelope out of that locked bottom drawer of his desk. It's about the right size for another Paracas burial shroud, the bastard. Where does he keep getting this stuff?"

"Is he opening it?"

"Just the end. Looking into it now. I can't see anything.... Wait, a bit of red.... He's got it in his fingers.... Definitely some sort of fabric!"

"A new shirt from Amazon?" I joke to break the tension, but it's a mistake.

"Goddam Carlos! That's not even funny. It's probably another piece of our culture being smuggled out to some rich collector overseas. How can you joke about that?"

"Now don't you go running over there, Elena," I caution. "Remember what happened last night."

"Alright. Alright.... He's closing it back up again and putting it back in the drawer. Locking it. Probably waiting for a pickup. Maybe tonight?"

"I'm going to call in a progress report to Jaguar now. Elena, keep watching, and promise me you're not going to race over there when I'm not looking."

"Too dangerous. I'm not stupid, you know."

"I might go over to the bar and nose around some more myself later. See if I can learn anything more about how the stuff gets to Antonio."

"Don't go upstairs with one of the....," she starts to say but thinks better of it, remembering that she promised not to remind me that my Verena would have been about the same age now as some of the girls.

Jaguar is in his office at the National Museum when I call and the first thing he asks about is Elena. It's as if he knows she's been hurt, or that he's concerned about the potentially dangerous situation in which he has put her. I delicately explain that she received some minor injuries, but I gloss it over because I don't want him pulling us back to Lima yet. He's worried, grilling me about what happened and the extent of her injury.

I tell him that she's already improving after plenty of Pisco last night. He laughs and this seems to loosen him up a bit before he starts asking what we've found out in Manaus.

"You were right, Jag. Peruvian artifacts are funneling through the city. We've already seen two, maybe three packaged Paracas and Nazca items pass from Antonio's office into small delivery vans. The first one was stolen and abandoned near the ferry dock. This afternoon I'm going to the police to track the most recent one."

I assure him that I'm not referring the investigation to the cops. Jaguar doesn't trust them- figures they're trigger-happy, eager for a big take-down and the recognition that comes with it. He has specifically told me to skirt clear of them as much as possible. That's what we've been doing in Manaus.

Jag wants to know if I have any leads about the artifacts reaching the city. I suggest that the women who entertain at the bar are carrying the stuff back when they return home to the mountains with money for their families. I think that it's money earned from hooking and their payment from Antonio for the smuggling operation.

He thinks it's a reasonable idea and asks me to investigate it more fully, joking that I might find more time with the girls "quite enjoyable." I laugh and agree.

The ferry dock interests Jaguar too. He asks me to visit the area a few times to see if anything unusual or suspicious seems to be happening, other than river passengers coming and going. I tell him that I especially want to talk to the officials and people responsible for freight shipments downriver to Belem. Then it's time to wrap up the call and he compliments me, with a caution

"Good progress, Carlos. I knew you're the guy for this job. But don't stay too long because I don't want anything to happen to either of you. No artifact is worth your lives. Get a bit more information, then come back to Lima safe and sound, OK?"

"Yes. We'll do that, Jaguar," I reply without even thinking about it.

"How much longer do you think?"

"Give me another week, maybe less, and I should have a clear pattern of the stuff passing through here. How they come this far; who transports them to the dock or wherever they go; and where they move on from here."

"Perfect. Get me that much and stay out of trouble. And don't get the cops or any government people involved. They'd only fuck things up. We'll do better by keeping our heads low to trace out this whole thing. Then it can go to Interpol to shut the smuggling chain down before everybody along the line knows what hit them."

"We're agreed on that then. I'll check back if anything else comes up, Jag."

"Good. And take care of Elena. She's a true friend to me and Marina. People aren't any more dedicated than her. Too serious about it sometimes. I don't want anything happening to her, you hear."

I agree with him wholeheartedly and remind him about the time she saved him from a serious beating up in northern Peru when dealing with some cultural thieves.

"Oh, she told you about that one, did she?"

"Just last evening. Part of it anyway, before she fell asleep."

"When you come back to Lima, I'll give you my side of it over a drink."

I come back from my room to tell Elena about our conversation and what Jaguar wants us to investigate further before we go back to Lima. She's happy to hear it should only be another week or less because she's as tired of this dingy apartment and endlessly watching the viewer as I am. I fix us some lunch, then leave to check out the plate number of last night's delivery van.

My reception at the police station is not friendly because it's the same guy on the front desk as last time.

"You again! The rental cop from Peru. What the hell do you want?"

"Another stolen piece. Another white van...."

"Report it then," he interrupts.

This time I cut to the chase by sliding my hand toward him, the colours of a larger bill just visible between my fingers. He looks down, then places his hand over mine to subtlety retrieve the money. There's somebody else in the office behind us today so he's quite discreet.

"Did you get a licence number or registration?" he asks in a low voice.

"Both. Here," and I lay a piece of paper down in front of him before he turns to go to a nearby computer.

A few minutes later he's back with a printout.

"Registered to Nino's Bakery but reported stolen the day before yesterday. We found it abandoned by the river this morning."

"At the ferry dock again?"

"This address is close to it. That's all I have for you. Unless you're ready to file a report so we can investigate the theft you claim happened."

There's a pattern here, so I'm on my way to see what I can find at the river terminal. It seems to be an important step in moving the stolen Peruvian artifacts to foreign buyers.

If I thought this was going to be easy, I'm quickly disappointed. The river terminal is a big place with several docks and a multitude of offices and warehouses. Signs direct me to the area where downriver passenger ferries are tied up. One of them is taking on passengers right now, so I go to the agent standing at the end of the gangplank.

"Your ticket, please."

"Oh... where do I get one?"

"Over there," and she motions to a building not far behind us.

"Where does this one go anyway?"

"It stops at every town from here to Belem during the next week."

"Right to the coast?"

"Almost. Ends at Belem. Sailing in a few minutes, so if you want a ticket you'd better hurry," she says, pointing me to the building.

I take a better look around as I walk that way. There's a jumble of freight sheds with rough-looking guys around them, some working, some looking busy. I come up to one who seems to be in charge.

"I'm trying to find a missing parcel," I tell him. "It's about this big, a cube, wrapped in brown paper with a lot of tape." I'm describing the box which the van driver picked up at the club last night.

"Ah shit man, there are so many boxes go through here every day. You'll never find it in here. Look at them all!

I can see what he means. The building is full of them, so I decide to try a different angle.

"But this was a very fragile one. Something easily broken and the shipper knew it. Would it be with these?"

"No. Try that shed over there. If we knew it's fragile, it should be there for safe handling."

I walk that way and find one guy on a battered chair outside the door. He's either resting or sleeping.

"I need some help!" wakes him up.

"Yeah? What's up?" he eyes me warily.

"I'm looking for a fragile parcel that came in last night," I tell him. "About this big, dropped off by a white delivery van from Nino's Bakery."

"Don't know a thing. Wasn't on then. Talk to Franco over there, the fat guy inside. He worked last night. Is around all the time."

So I head to the building with the peeling paint and knock at the closed door. A big man comes to the screen, but not out. He isn't very friendly.

"Yeah? Waddya want?"

I repeat the description of the parcel and the van, but he doesn't seem to hear me as he stares suspiciously at my face.

"Hey, you a cop or somethin'?"

"No. A friend of Antonio at the club on Paradiso...."

"The place with the Black muscleman on the door? I been there."

He knows Antonio and he's testing me.

"Don't play games, man," I snap. "He's the big white guy who runs the place. Wants to know if you got it OK. There was a little problem with the driver."

He doesn't say anything for a while as he stands wondering if I'm legit. Finally he spits out a reply.

"Yeah. Got it. Gone this morning."

I try hard to stifle a smile because he has just set down another piece of the puzzle. Won't Jaguar be pleased about this! And we're another day closer to leaving stinking damn Manaus behind. I can hardly wait to tell Elena the good news!

She's sound asleep when I return, and shows no sign of waking up when I take her hand. I have two choices for the afternoon now. Hours in a chair by the apartment window with the viewer trained on Antonio's office doesn't appeal to me. I could try something else- another visit inside his bar and perhaps even upstairs again?

I decide to make another trip across the street. I'm not sure what I might find out, but Jaguar wants me to try for more information about the movement of goods to the club. We've only seen the exchanges that take the Peruvian artifacts away, not any arriving. I'm thinking that they might come in the personal baggage of bar girls travelling back to family, then returning to work.

I'm hoping that I can encounter Marianna, the young Peruvian woman I met there recently. I got some useful information from her before going upstairs to gaze on her naked body and fondle her tits. But I managed to decline full-on sex with her and hope that I can hold out again. This is all in the interest of collecting more information, of course, but who am I fooling except myself?

As soon as I come through the door the bartender recognizes me. While I'd only been there once before, I soon find out why he is so quick to remember.

"Hey, you were with that woman hurt outside the club last night, weren't you?"

"Right!" I admit. "And you were the one who got her up from the sidewalk. Thanks, man."

"Is she alright? You took her away so fast."

"Yes. Some cuts and bruises. A headache. But she's resting now."

"Right across the street, eh," and he points in the direction of our building, the doorway he'd seen me drag Elena into last night.

"Over there. So close by that I didn't need to get her to hospital."

"Is she OK today? Had some bad cuts."

"On pain pills, sleeping it off now. She'll be fine tomorrow."

"So... what are you drinking today, uh....?" and the barman hesitates.

He seems to be waiting for my name, since we'd had that personal encounter last night. I hope that he's just being friendly and not suspicious in any way.

"Marcos," I lie. "And you?"

"Julio at your service," he jokes, adding "Sagres, like last time?"

"You remember. "

"Never forget a face or a drink. Are you looking for Marianna again? You went upstairs with her before."

"That would be nice," I say, looking around but not seeing her.

"Not on today, or for the next week or so. Gone home again."

"Ah... I liked her. Good company."

"Yeah. Hot little bitch that one, but you'd like Carmen too. She'll talk to you. Upstairs too, if you like. That's her over there."

I look across to the tables behind me and see an attractive woman, older than Marianna, maybe thirty-five or so, it's hard to tell. She's not a girl, and has more curves, like my partner Elena.

"OK, a drink for her too at that table in the corner."

"You sat there last time, right?"

This guy doesn't miss much. I make a mental note to be careful with him. A few minutes later, Carmen comes with our drinks and bends over to give me a look at her fine chest. All at once a familiar look comes across her face.

"Mister Sagres! Seen you on the street, remember? Me and my girlfriend from here."

"Carmen, you call up to my window at night, don't you?"

"And now you're here to see me."

She slides her chair so close to mine that her hot body presses against me.

When she leans even closer to talk, her big, unrestrained tits drop down on top of my arm. I'm enveloped by a pungent aroma, the combination of cheap perfume and recent sex. If these are her pheromones, my libido responds to them immediately with a stiffening dick.

Carmen appeals to me in a more womanly way than Marianna did last time I was here. That's probably because she's closer to my own age. I like her shape and her eyes are beautiful- big, dark and expressive. The woman is a seductive and she's built to fuck. Carmen knows it, and when she turns on the charm, I'm sure men line up to get into her bed. If I'm not careful, I'll be one of them too.