by Moulton, CD
Was it?
Elena and Virginia described the three men. One large and fat black man and two who could have been Panamanians, but with gringo or European parents on one side. They only called the black Gordo, but one of the others was Tomás Something and the other was called Ricky. They all spoke Spanish without accent from any other place. They didn’t use Colombian or Costa Rican words or expressions.
That would mean Ricky was named Enrique – unless he had a parent from an English-speaking country. It could be Richard or Ricardo. No one had seen any of them around before except the one called Ricky, who had come two weeks before looking for someone called Ed.
Eduord Rauz?
All they knew was Ed.
If it was Eduord Rauz this was most likely connected. If not ... it could be or not.
Clint caught the next bus for David. He got there a little after four and checked into the Pensión Costa Rica. He went to Peter’s bar (everyone called the Park Vista Peter’s) at the Hotel Iris and talked with several people about whatever came up. He didn’t learn anything. He went to the pensión and sacked out for the night In the morning Clint headed for Pedrigal. He may find an answer or two there.
He didn’t. He went back to David and to the pool hall David hung around. He mostly listened. He caught a snatch of conversation about Geraldo having a mad on about something or someone. Nothing that he could connect.
That was the problem here. Nothing to connect anything to anything else.
A rather obvious puta came to ask him if he was looking for sex. He said, “Yes. With just about anyone but you.”
She didn’t know how to take that so went back to sit at a stool at the end of the bar. An hour later he left. There would be some kind of party that night they were talking about that most of them were invited to. Clint figured it might be a good idea to crash it. In disguise. It seemed Mr. D was paying for the food and beer, but other drinks were not included.
Clint went back to sit for a beer in a couple of other places. He heard one bit in The Top Place Billares about someone called Rosendo who had disappeared.
That reminded Clint. He called Sergio and asked what had been learned.
Rosendo Santamaria was identified by a supposed girlfriend who said he was supposed to come to her place and had never arrived. She wasn’t from the Bocas area – so why would she be looking for someone else to arrive at a place she had rented yesterday morning?
She would be watched very closely, but also discreetly. Sergio also wanted to know who else she knew or met with there.
David had gone through Sixola into Costa Rica, also yesterday morning. Another little clue that didn’t quite connect. Was he running from someone?
Likely. Who? The woman who identified Rosendo?
Not enough information.
Clint decided he was off on some kind of wild tangent. Maybe something would come together at the party.
He went back to the pensión to clean up and put on a disguise. The man who left the Costa Rica about seven thirty was a bit seedy and tough-looking. He had very black hair that didn’t quite match his complexion and wore cheap cologne. He had a couple of rings that were semi-precious stones and an earring that was a very good diamond. He had on some heavy gold-plated chains. He had a scar on the side of his face that was covered with make-up, but not quite. His moustache didn’t quite manage to match the color of his hair and wasn’t well-kept.
He got to the pool hall and was stopped at the door. There was a private party inside.
“Yeah, yeah. Mr. D said to drop by.”
“Mr. D?”
“Ger. What?” Clint snarled.
He was passed through after saying his name was Culebra (Snake) Smith. There were about thirty people inside. A truly mixed bag of seedy thugs and men in good business suits. (Probably lawyers. Very few but bankers and lawyers wore suits in Panamá: You know how to tell a lawyer? You can’t, but you can always tell who’s a lawyer because he's wearing a suit.)(It doesn’t translate very well.) Puta’s and ladies in good clothes.
Clint watched the doorman go to a heavy man with somewhat long wavy hair. He was smoking a Cuban cigar and had on a massive gold ring. The bouncer pointed to Clint. The man shrugged and came over.
“Mr. D?” Clint asked before he could say anything. “I’m afraid I used your name to get in.”
The voice from the telephone call in Bocas replied, “Mr. Faraday? You are nothing like was described to me. I was waiting for you.”
“Waiting? For me?”
“Yes. I well-am aware of some of your methods so arranged this get-together to introduce you to a number of people. One of those here is the person we seek, I am quite sure.”
“No. That person will have several people here to observe. It’s very slightly out of character for you to throw a party on such short notice. They’ll be suspicious. They’ll definitely watch who you talk to. It might be a good idea to have me unobtrusively removed. You stay awhile and begin checking your watch in a half hour or so, get a tiny bit upset and leave after another half hour. They’ll believe you were waiting for someone who won’t show up. Then they’ll figure I decided not to work with you and figured the angle of this party. It’ll keep my cover and tell them some things. Not knowing you directly could be to our advantage. They won’t recognize me in this get-up and Clint is, so far as they can learn, in his room for the night, too tired to go out.
“They’ll have me followed. I’ll go to the place Clint Faraday is staying. Maybe they’ll decide I’m some hood working for me.”
He started to smile, caught himself, got a bit of a wary look and turned and walked off. He spoke to the bouncer a moment, then the bouncer came to tell Clint, as Mr. D said, he wasn’t welcome there. It would be better all around if Clint were to decide to go elsewhere. Clint looked over to Geraldo and mouthed, “Asshole!” and handed the bouncer his half-finished beer. He stalked out. Geraldo gave the bouncer a high thumbs up and started a conversation with an attractive woman as Clint passed out the door.
Clint noted the one who followed him. He took one of the taxi’s waiting out front and the woman took another almost immediately. That driver didn’t know how to follow anyone without being obvious to an almost comical degree. Clint decided to have a little fun so spent until well after midnight going from dive to dive. She had to be in or out front of them to keep him in sight, which made her even more obvious. There’s almost no one on the streets in David after ten o’clock, but she couldn’t very well show up in every place he went to. A woman standing in front of a cheap bar at eleven o’clock and later was assumed by everyone who saw her to be a hooker. Clint would bet she had an interesting if not too pleasant night. Particularly after it started raining at ten twenty.
There were no taxis in the area he managed to be when he decided to go back to the pensión. She was following about a block back. Clint was wearing a thin waterproof sweater, as was the custom at night in the rainy season, she was wearing a thin evening dress. After about six blocks Clint managed to flag a passing taxi. She was standing on the corner a block back and began desperately trying to flag a taxi herself. She must have found one because a taxi pulled up close behind and followed them to the Costa Rica. Clint got out and paid his taxi. Her taxi was pulled into the lot at the bakery across the street. Two cars on the entire street, both taxis, one in front of the pensión and one across the street at a bakery. Clint had the giggles as he rang to be let in. He spoke to the desk girl quickly, then waited just inside the steel doors until the signal rang and the desk girl keyed for it to open. The woman was standing there, but couldn’t come inside. There were no available rooms and she wasn’t a guest so wouldn’t be allowed past the doors.
She asked about Clint, who was just on the side where he couldn’t be seen from the door. The girl said Clint was in his room and hadn’t left since she came on duty. He was obviously exhausted and said he was not to be disturbed. He would not be disturbed.
She asked about the m
an who just came in.
If she didn’t know the name of the man who just came in she had no business there.
Now she could find a place to watch the front of the place for the rest of the night or leave. She went over to in front of the Universidad Latina, talked to the night watchman for a couple of minutes, then walked toward downtown.
Clint went to his room, took off the disguise, took a shower and went to bed.
The morning was clear and a bit cool. Clint went to Doña Amelia’s for breakfast. He was the first customer and had been walking around for more than half an hour. He woke up before David got into motion much. He liked to walk around the city while it was quiet.
After the good breakfast (hojaldras and coffee with an omelette) he strolled past the Alcalá. He had seen a man at the party there the day before. Clint had a talent to note people and places automatically and could place them when he saw them again. When the restaurant opened he went in to have coffee, then acted like he was waiting for someone for ten or fifteen minutes, went to the desk to ask if Mr. Alexander was still in his room. The woman checked the register and said they had no one by that name registered.
Clint also read upside down as well as right side up. He noted all the names and times in the register, shook his head and said they would have come in about eight the night before. The Alcalá was full by six thirty. They may have gone elsewhere.
Clint thanked her and said they were the type to go to the Best Western, then. He’d probably missed them. He went to the café across the street for a chicha (fruit drink) and more coffee. The man and a woman came out and went toward centro. Clint casually finished his chicha and left when they were a block and a half away. He followed them to the Multi-Café by the Hotel Castilla, where they came out on the porch to sit with another man and woman. This one was also in a suit. They had some papers the second one took out of a briefcase and were discussing them when Clint walked by four feet away. He’d seen Freddy, a local character, sitting on the wall in front and went to sit with him and say good day. The wall was three feet from the table. Tom and Gene, two other gringos who were there most mornings, came out to greet him as they sat at their regular table five minutes later. The lawyers were lawyers and were discussing a case. One was defending and one was prosecuting. They were making a crooked deal where they both made a bundle and the people they supposedly represented would get it in the ass from both. Very typical.
Freddy told Clint they came about once a week to figure ways to screw everybody in sight. He knew them. He would report to their clients what was going on. They could believe him and do something or get screwed. Their choice.
Clint grinned and agreed. Another dead end. Clint went back to the Costa Rica to think.
Who would have a clue? Geraldo was one side of it. That part was solved. Now he was angling for Clint to show him who he was up against. He probably had some ideas, but wouldn’t give. This was someone who was nuts or very dangerously crafty.
Clint spent some time thinking. He put everything else out of his mind and went over only what had to do with this. He decided someone was trying to pit Geraldo against another small-time crime boss. He would have to discover why to learn who – unless there was a way to force the issue.
He grinned. There just might be!
The next stop was the marina at Pedrigal. Clint did note one person at that party who worked there. He had a large boat and was some kind of partner or something. He had a good reputation, but was known to be into a few slightly shady deals. Nothing that was likely to hurt anyone who couldn’t afford it. He had a philosophy that said certain things were games. The loser had to pay. Don’t bother to get into the game with anyone who couldn’t be depended upon to have the funds to pay. Damned sure, you don’t get into it if you don’t have the funds!
He was on the dock giving instructions to the workers about pulling a large yacht and painting the hull. There were some minor repairs while it was out of the water.
“Hi, Harry. Nice job!” Clint greeted, pointing at the boat.
“Triple-overpriced, thus very expensive to keep up. Holloway can afford it and ten like it. His IQ is about his shoe size.
“What’s up?”
“Damned little except taxes, rainfall and my deficit,” Clint replied. That was a joke between them.
“Found anymore pirate treasure?”
“Not looking for any. Wasn’t looking for that.”
“Yeah. You don’t give a damn so you find three big damned treasure chests. I care a bunch and can’t find more than a centavo laying in the street.”
Clint raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, looking at the boat. Harry laughed and said he didn’t find that. It found him. “Any luck with this latest map thing?”
“Which latest map thing? I was looking for some guy who killed some other guy, found him and decided it would be much better for everyone concerned if he just left Panamá. The cops here don’t need all their time taken trying to prosecute mobsters who’ll get away with it in the long run, anyhow.
“What about a map? I thought they found all of that crap.”
Harry looked a bit startled and said, “Uh, I heard there was some kind of map to a lost gold mine out there, uh, somewhere. Maybe Rambala or that area.”
“Oh. I heard something about that in Punta Peña. They have to find a certain rock near a mountain on a river or something as stupid. Any rock like that would have been down the river a century ago. Hell, look at the size of those rocks the innundation took down the river! One of them up near Fortuna was bigger than that boat! I watched it perched on the edge for three weeks, then it was gone. A couple of hundred meters straight down. Who the hell would look for a gold mine over there? It’s not that kind of place. Gold isn’t found ion sandstone and calcium types of rock. It’s found in silica-based formations.”
“Pretty much what I figured. I suppose they think some old Indio will remember it and where it was. Or something. You never know where there’s a little lode.”
A man came from the office to tell Harry that Gordo said he would be there in an hour.
Gordo was a common name. It meant nothing until Harry seemed to know a hell of a lot about somebody looking for a gold mine near Punta Peña. Clint chatted for a few minutes, then waved and left He would be where he could get a look at Gordo when he arrived. He might have finally found a bit of a connection – but what did it connect?
When Gordo showed up it was clear this was one of the people in Punta Peña. Nobody else could be that close a description.
What was a person like Harry into that would get him tied up with a bunch of small-time gangsters? Clint could see where they might try to move in on his marina. It was a place that could be used in any number of ways to garner the odd crooked dollar or thousand. He would be in the position where they would try to move in on him, though. It could mean very big problems a little down the line. Harry was far too smart to fall for a gold mine scam. What was going on?
Clint got a truly evil leer on his face. Harry was too smart to fall for that kind of scam. They were the type who would definitely try to move in on his business. They would believe anybody who came to them for “financing” a search for a lost gold mine that the someone had a map about.
He was smart enough to set up the scam! He heard about the maps from the pirate treasure deal and decided he could get the two hoods pitted against one another and could sit aside and watch the fun.
Okay. For the tale, Harry had a couple of opposing gangsters trying to take over his marina operation. He was smart enough to pit them against each other. His name wouldn’t show up. Ever. He made the slip to Clint, who he trusted. He wouldn’t slip like that where those types were concerned. Clint wanted the whole story. He would get it. It might be fun to get those types fighting. The only thing was that Clint would see to it nobody else like the Martín family were brought into it. That took the fun out of it. Harry hadn’t even considered that. He wouldn’t start anything
that he thought would involve innocent people.
When Gordo left Clint strolled back into the office. Harry looked a bit wary and tried to tell Clint something with his eyes and expression and a very slight shake of his head. He pulled at the lobe of an ear.
There was some kind of listening device in place.
“Just wanted to ask if you know of a rig like that one you’re pulling for sale. Not as big and a good deal. I’m not somebody with money for ten boats. Something cheap to maintain.”
“There’s no such thing as a large boat that’s cheap to maintain,” Harry replied with a grin. Clint had let him know he caught the hints about the listener.
“Here. Call me if you find anything. I’ll be in David tonight, but back in Bocas tomorrow or the next day if things go as planned. It’s my cel so it gets me anywhere.” He handed Harry a slip with his cell number on it. There was a name on the slip on the other side. Hanrady.
Harry nodded. “I might go to David tonight. I need a good meal of something other than fish. That’s better here than anywhere else, but not ten nights in a row.”
“Try Las Brasas,” Clint suggested. “Best rib-eye in the area.”
“Know something? I think I haven’t had a good steak in the last five years. I’ll have to try the place one day. Tonight will probably be that new Itallian place near where Panamá Bill’s used to be.”
Clint waved and went out. He headed back to David. Harry would be at La Tipica tonight. He would expect someone to be watching the Itallian restaurant and Las Brasas. La Tipica had great mariscos (seafood) that Harry said he was tired of. Clint loved their camarones apanada (breaded shrimp). Harry did most of his own cooking so wouldn’t have to eat seafood ten nights in a row. He knew Clint well enough to know he got what the message was. Clint would be at La Tipica in a disguise that Harry knew. Destin Hanrady. A cousin who only existed at odd times. An easy disguise because he looked a lot like Clint.
