It was hot and humid. Under the blazing sun, migrating birds fled west, toward the marshlands of Clarendon, in search of water and freshness. In the streets of Montego Bay, the music and the relentless seesaw created a festive atmosphere.
Marlon lined up in the Police Department’s parking lot and stepped out of the car. Apparently worried, he walked at slow pace toward the building’s main entrance. Like a hunting fox, his eyes squinted around, looking for the prey. The blackmailer walked cautiously, in an apparent effort to avoid unwanted attention. Entering the building, he approached the counter and stood by. The guard on duty did not seem to notice him.
For a moment, he remained in the same position, trying to attract the officer’s attention. Lost in a magazine, the cop continued to ignore him. Baffled and upset, he waved and clacked abruptly, “Jesus Christ…. Is it really a Police Department?”
The officer knit his brow, smiled, and asked amusingly, “Hey, Rasta… What do you want?”
Marlon jerked and replied with a boisterous voice, “I want to speak to the chief of the FBI delegation…”
“He is out,” said the officer. What can I do for you?”
“Is there somebody I can talk to,” Marlon asked arrogantly.
“Hey, little Jamaican, what’s your problem?” the officer stared him down.
“I’ve to talk about things of the gravest consequence,” Marlon retorted nervously. “I must see your commander at once…”
The officer took a pen and a notebook. “What’s your name, little man?” he asked jokingly.
The blackmailer moved backward. “Goddammit...I’m wasting time here…”
The officer was going to say something when Javens entered the room. “What’s going on?” the Lieutenant asked calmly.
“This man wants to see you…” replied the officer. “He is kind of a freak…”
Javens stepped forward. “What can we do for you, my friend?” he inquired cordially.
“I want to see the chief of the FBI delegation…” Marlon answered in a rush.
“He is absent. How can we help?” asked the Lieutenant.
“I must see him personally…” insisted Marlon.
“What is it about?” inquired Javens.
“The affair of the moment… The one everybody talks about…” Marlon’s voice was alarming.
“It’s not possible to see the delegate,” said Javens. “I’m quite sure we can take care of it…”
“Talk for yourself!” retorted Marlon abruptly. “I won’t say a word if the American delegate is not present.”
Javens asked him to sit down on a bench. The Jamaican commander picked up the telephone and called Galiss. “There is a man here…He wants to talk you…” He hung up and turned toward Marlon. “Wait a moment…He is coming.”
Twenty minutes later, Galiss arrived. “This is the American delegate,” Javens said with a faint smile; “you can talk now!”
Marlon approached, shook Galiss’ hand, and said, “Sir, I come to save your ass…”
The detective stared at him. “Save my ass?” he asked incredulously. “How can you do that?”
“I can lead you to the Hauss & Caust murderers…” Marlon sounded utterly confident.
Galiss asked him to come inside. Together with Javens, they went to a small room and the delegate invited him to sit down.
“What information do you’ve? We’re listening…” said Javens with a sarcastic grin.
Marlon glanced suspiciously around him and mused for a moment. “I’m no good Samaritan…” he mumbled with a hint of fear in his voice. “There is a reason for my presence here... The prize, the quarter of million...”
Galiss looked at him, smiled, and said, “The prize will be yours if your information leads to the gangsters’ capture and conviction.”
“Are you sure?” asked Marlon.
“Absolutely,” answered Galiss without hesitation.
“Can I have a contract with your signature?” said the blackmailer.
Galiss grabbed a notebook, took a page, and stammered as he wrote down, “I, Galiss Vaughan, FBI delegate to Jamaica, engage the American government to give to …”
“Golin… Marlon Golin…” the blackmailer yelled force- fully.
Resuming, Galiss linked up, “… to give to Marlon Golin
the monetary prize offered for capture and conviction of the authors of the Hauss & Caust holdup. In case the information provided allows the American government to reach these two goals, Marlon Golin will receive two hundred and fifty thousand dollars…”
The delegate nodded, stared at Marlon, and said, “Done, authenticated, and certified in presence of Javens Eustache Galott, chief of the Anti-gang Battalion in the Montego Bay Police Department, Jamaica, today, December 22, 1977.”
Both Galiss and Javens signed on the piece of paper. Marlon took the contract and examined it carefully. Wriggling like a fish, he mumbled with a whimsical expression on his face, “You’re a good catch, delegate… I knew I could count on you...”
While they dealt with Marlon, two blinking eyes followed the conversation through a slightly open window. Jarrig Propilo had seen the blackmailer as he entered the precinct and had speculated there must have been a reason for his visit. He was involved in the conspiracy between Marlon and Miriam and was particularly concerned. As Galiss wrapped up a deal with the blackmailer, the Sergeant went stealthily in the parking lot, took place in his automobile, and rushed toward Miriam’s home.
Arrived at his destination, he ran toward the front door and knocked alarmingly. Martha looked through a window and asked, “Who is there?”
“I want to see Miriam…” the Sergeant answered loudly. “Is she available?”
“No…” Martha replied nervously.
“Where is she?” insisted Jarrig.
“She went to the store,” answered Martha.
“Will she be back soon?” continued Jarrig.
“I don’t know…” the old hermit sounded extremely tense.
“I must see her,” said Jarrig. “It’s a matter of life and death…”
Martha jerked and opened the door. She was nervous and trepidant. “You said it’s a matter of life and death…” she mumbled worriedly.
“Yes,” answered Jarrig. “Your niece is in great danger…I must see her immediately…”
“Come with me…” Martha replied in a burst. “I know where she is...”
Jarrig helped her get in his car and sat down behind the wheel. At this moment, they saw Miriam stepping out of a taxi.
“Here she is…” Martha exclaimed wildly.
The young woman was apparently surprised to see the Sergeant.
“I must talk to you…” he bawled suspiciously.
Miriam nodded and they went inside. Jarrig wasted no time. “Somebody went to the police and the FBI agents have been alerted...” he was in a state of restless agitation. “You must warn your friends...”
“Who did it?” asked Miriam.
“Marlon…” answered Jarrig with a vengeful grin.
“Really… He did that…” Miriam seemed stunned.
“The situation is grave,” grumbled the Sergeant. “You must take action…”
“What should I do?” she asked hesitantly.
“If you know where they’re, you should warn them immediately,” said Jarrig. “Interpol will be soon on alert...”
Miriam seemed flabbergasted.
“I took a risk in coming here…” mumbled Jarrig. “Do your best…”
He opened the door and left in a hurry.
* * *
Five hundred miles from Montego Bay, four men climbed a mountain around Chagramas, not far from Port of Spain, in Trinidad & Tobago. Landed on a rocky beach at one o’clock in the morning, they went straight ahead, dispirited by fear and uncertainty.
Lost in the unknown, the last desperados of John Crow Mountain struggled to survive. Jonass, Jonathan, Peter, and Chapotto followed a trail leading toward nowhere
. From the top of the Chagramas Mountain, they hoped to pinpoint a lighthouse.
“The panorama will reveal something,” Jonass was optimistic as usual. “We must find a town…”
“I’m tired…” Peter moaned pitifully. “This climbing is exhausting.”
“What are we going to do?” Jonathan asked his brothers. “A town is not good for us... A big city, that’s what we need.”
“Port of Spain is our destination,” Jonass frowned evasively; “but we won’t see light until daybreak.”
“It’s only a couple of hours since we landed,” Chapotto reminded them. “I’m sure we’ll find help.”
“Guys, let’s be careful…” Jonathan was loud and dramatic. “We can’t trust anybody… The entire world is watching for us…”
“Trinidadians are charming people,” said Chapotto. “They’ll help us… The women in this country are wonderful.”
“Really…” Jonathan jumped joyfully. “Better than the Jamaicans…?”
“We’ve got to dig it…” the bodyguard replied impishly. “The girls over here have the reputation to being hot and wild.”
“I can’t wait to plug up with them,” mumbled Jonathan. “Let’s go, guys… Let’s move quicker…”
They laughed.
“I’ll need to grab a bit for myself…” Jonass winked at Chapotto. “After two weeks of deadly struggle, the warrior needs some rest.”
They were belly laughing.
“What a break to see smiling faces after the chill of death…” Peter sounded flat and melancholic. “I would give a million dollars for a kiss.”
“Don’t be disenchanted,” Jonass said to him. “Take it easy…”
“I know what’s going on,” Jonathan grinned jeeringly. “He is thinking about Mimi.”
“Impossible to turn the page…” the Atlanta vagabond was proud of his loving bind. “My darling is over there … between the river and the mountain...”
“Listen to that…” Jonathan burst out laughing. “Guys, love has turned our brother into a poet. Come on, man… Forget about Mimi… Look in front of you and make a new choice.”
“Pete,” Jonass smiled mockingly, “don’t pay attention to
Joe… He doesn’t know what he is talking about.”
“Dawn will be here soon…” Peter sounded nice and trustful. “We’ll get a chance to look around…”
“We should be happy… “Jonass squirmed excitedly. “Come on, guys, let’s laugh like real heroes...”
“Heroes…?” Peter quirked his eyebrows with skepticism; “you think we’re heroes?”
“Why not,” the ringleader sounded candid and proud. “In our own right, sure we’re…”
“Guys…” Jonathan rumbled annoyingly; “please, avoid big words…”
“We’re getting to the mountaintop,” said Chapotto. “I need some rest.”
Jonass took his telescope and scanned the horizon. “I see nothing. No city… No hamlet…”
“It’s still dark,” Chapotto mumbled hesitantly. “Impossible to see anything...”
Peter took the device and looked in. “Chapotto is right. It’s too dark... There is a fog.”
“Let me see…” Jonathan grabbed the telescope and took a good look. “I can’t see a thing...” he babbled quietly. “We must wait until daybreak…”
One after the other, they lay down on the grass.
“We know where we’re going,” Jonass was still confident. “We need somebody to guide us.”
There was a brief moment of silence; then, Jonathan said, “I don’t trust Marlon…His behavior was suspicious and I had the impression he was playing some kind of dirty game… His brother seemed more sincere…”
“You think they identified us?” Peter asked as if he already knew the answer.
“I’m not sure,” the baby replied pensively. “Marlon acted
like a conman...”
“I’ve thought about it…” Jonass appeared concerned but collected. “Perhaps it was a mistake to let them go the way we did…”
“We should’ve gotten rid of them,” Jonathan screamed moodily. “We made a big mistake…”
“Nothing is for sure,” Jonass remained calm, almost aloof. “We couldn’t have killed them for any reason. They’re Mimi’s friends.”
“We did the right thing,” Peter blushed nervously. “Mimi would’ve been exposed to retaliation.”
“It’s too late for remedy,” Chapotto sounded impassive and neutral. “What’s done is done.”
“I agree,” Jonass added stoically. “It doesn’t help to ponder about the past.”
“We were generous with them,” said Peter. “Two thousand dollars should be enough to fill their mouths.”
“That was a mistake,” Jonass replied with a bit of anger in his voice. “We wouldn’t have done better if we wanted to expose our situation… That money must have poisoned their minds...”
“We’ve got to move away,” said Jonathan. “If they give us up, we’re in big trouble.”
“How to move away…?” Jonass stared at him. “We don’t even know where we’re.”
“The sky is getting clearer,” observed Chapotto. “Let’s take another peep…”
He took the telescope and looked around. “Nothing… Wood... Forest...That’s all…”
“Get some rest, guys…” Jonass told them. “In a few hours we’ll have to get down there. Don’t worry… Satan will help
us again...”
Lying face up, he closed his eyes. The others mimicked his gesture.
They rested for a few hours. When they awoke, the sun was already high in the sky. Jonathan jumped up and screamed joyfully, “Wake up, guys… Wake up and see with your own eyes…”
They stood up and looked in amazement. Down, on the mountain’s border, farm workers were busy. With axes and machetes, they cleaned up a large perimeter. A little further, they saw the light of a camp. Jonass waved and yelled with a resounding voice, “Here is the real thing… They may not know that but those peasants ought to be the happiest people in the world…”
“What do we do?” Peter asked timidly.
“We must go down there…” Jonathan was surprisingly confident.
“What will we say to them?” insisted Peter.
“We’re tourists, man…” the baby shouted in a burst. “We adventured too far and got lost in the jungle…”
“I’m cold,” Jonass groaned boringly. “Come on, guys, let’s get a morning drink…”
Pulling a bottle of rum from his handbag, he brandished it toward the sky.
“I want to propose a toast,” he barked huskily. “To the memory of my dead siblings…”
Making a circular gesture with his arms, he added, “To you, Garry; and to you, Ed…”
He drank and a flood of tears streaked down on his face.
Peter took the bottle, raised it to drink, but stopped suddenly. Bending backward, the vagabond threw it toward the ri-
sing sun.
“Don’t be dramatic…” Jonass had regained his composure. “Let’s hide the rifles and move down…”
He took his submachine gun and started untying the pieces. Peter, Jonathan, and Chapotto did the same thing. After hiding the parts in their bags, they stepped downward, toward the mountain’s border. Chapotto took the last grenade and hid it underneath his coat.
“Let’s go…” Jonass yelled commandingly.
They clumsily moved down. As they closed in, Jonass looked around the perimeter, trying to get to the least crowded area. The workers had seen them and appeared very surprised.
The ringleader bifurcated and led his companions toward a bush where stood a paunchy man and a beautiful girl. Jonathan could hardly contain his impatience. With trepidation, the baby stepped forward.
Jonass waved, inviting the pair to approach. The people laboring in the perimeter looked at them with puzzling curiosity.
“We’re lost…” the ringleader said to the paunchy man. �
�Can you guide us out?”
“Where are you going?” the individual asked suspiciously.
“Port of Spain…” answered Jonass.
“It’s a good distance… Where do you come from?” inquired the man.
“We’re American tourists...” Peter replied cordially. “We adventured a little too far… Can you come with us? We’ll pay…”
“How much…?” asked the man.
Jonass approached and playfully whispered a few words in
his hear. Immediately, the peasant became enthusiastic. A bright smile drew on his face and he vividly shook his head.
“What’s your name?” asked Peter.
“Joshua McLarthy...” he answered with a friendly nod.
Jonass pulled a pack of dollar bills from his pocket and handed them over. “A down payment…” he said alluringly. “Better next time...”
Joshua grabbed the bills, hopped jubilantly, and sniggered, “Let’s move, Helen…We’re going to the capital…”
* * *
In the darkness, Marlon’s face appeared diabolical. Standing alongside Miriam, he was out of control. The young woman stomped around and seemed very upset.
“You’re a little devil...” he bawled like the conman he was. “You played cutely and fooled a few... It’s time to let it go...”
“What do you want, Marlon? I gave you what I had…” she answered anxiously. “I’ve nothing left…”
“You’re slick like a rogue…” he threatened her. I’m not joking…”
“I gave it all... I swear …” Miriam seemed disconcerted.
“Vicious, mama… And Bad! Bad! Bad!” Marlon yelled at her. “Police are right around the corner…”
“Jesus, Marlon, what do you want?” she cried hopelessly.
“I know who you’re…” he stared her down. “You want to keep it all for yourself… No more jokes…No more games… Only a pack of dirty greens will save your day…”
“I gave you…” Miriam could hardly contain her emotion.
“Not enough…” he cut her off. “That’s not enough…Ano-
ther five thousand will do... Do you think I’m an idiot? I know you’ve a lot to hide… Loosen up, girl… or, by God, you’ll be blocked down...”
The Conway's Conspiracy Page 13
