Clint Faraday Mysteries Collection B :This Job is Murder Collector's Edition

by Moulton, CD

  Clint agreed to be back by six thirty. They could get a good meal and make the bus. They would get to Mali about seven thirty in the morning.

  Clint went to the police station for a report, but there wasn’t anything more. He thought a bit, then went to the station to get tickets for Bocas del Toro. He didn’t doubt a certain blue-eyed individual would be on that bus.

  Mali

  They arrived in Mali at seven thirty four. Only Clint and Emanuel got off the bus. No one on the bus could be the blue-eyed follower.

  Clint knew how he was disguised. Three people got off the bus in Chiriqui at the bombas. The Changuinola bus picked up riders there. The three were surfer types and were speaking German. They seemed to be together, but Clint noticed that one had his bags with him inside the bus, a couple of small backpacks. The others had their surfboards that had to be unloaded from the compartment. The third one hung around like he was with them, but walked across to the new Shell station while the other two went towards the David casita. He would definitely be on the Changuinola-David bus. Clint wondered if he would change the disguise or figure he wasn’t noticed. Mali is small. Just a puebla. It would be very difficult to not be noticed there. It was something that Emanuel could use to locate Virgil quickly.

  What did Virgil look like? Did Emanuel know?

  “No. He is average and dark enough that he could pass as a mestizo. Veronica says he has a knack for languages so may speak very good Spanish. He will speak like a native.”

  “How will you locate him?”

  “I will simply ask about people who are too rich and not well-liked. There are seldom more than four or five in a given area. I will mention Nancy Killian Moore where each will hear the name. He will then introduce himself.”

  Clint nodded. He would leave locating Virgil to Emanuel while he went on to the next stop to wait until the follower got off the bus there. He definitely wouldn’t get off at the previous stop. There would be no way he wouldn’t be noticed. A surfer might get off ... at the restaurant where the bus stopped for ten minutes for people to use the restrooms or whatever. Clint would be there to greet him. He wanted to know what this was about. It wasn’t someone looking for stolen art or bounty hunting. There was something a lot deeper than that.

  He grabbed a passing taxi and headed for the restaurant. The bus came about a quarter hour later. The surfer got off and paid his fare while explaining that a friend was going to pick him up there. Clint waited until he headed for the restrooms and followed him in. He went into a booth, stayed about eight minutes and a totally different type of person came out. The bus had just left. No one would notice.

  Clint damned well did!

  The man, now looking like a native, probably a cattle man, strolled out toward the road to hail a cab. Clint waited and jumped aboard as it started off.

  “Hi. Clint Faraday, here with Emanuel, as you know.”

  The fellow laughed. “I thought you made me back in David and again in Chiriqui Grande. I’m Raul Santana at the moment.”

  “What the hell is this about? Why use someone like Emanuel?”

  “It’s big. Really big.

  “I like the way you ran Willie and Berto around! You had them take you to Darien – so why didn’t you take the ride back when they ... because it wasn’t done yet. I’m dead tired.”

  He called for the taxi to stop and they got out. He said he was paranoid about talking anywhere they might be heard. Mali was about twenty minutes walking. They walked on.

  “Is Interpol involved?”

  “Not on my end. I’m working for a sort of government group. Interpol couldn’t begin to afford me. They have what we call a limited budget. I let Willie and Berto collect on that stuff from the insurance companies. They’re comic relief to me.

  “I did a pretty fair check on you. Did you really get fees on the order of my own? Two mil for that land scam in Puerto Armuelles?”

  “Well, the hospital and clinic got the fees. I keep enough to live on – and to run all over hell and back on things like this. I’m not hurting. Definitely.”

  “I think I’m going to retire soon. I can’t spend ten percent of what I’ve made. I’m like you in that I do it because somebody has to eliminate some of the worst and most dangerous people in the world.”

  “Art thieves? Worst and most dangerous?”

  “If that was all I wouldn’t waste my time. I’m trying to cut a cancer out that was growing far too fast, now it’s being excised.”

  “You going to tell me what it’s about?”

  “Remember the nuclear crap with that group in California?”

  “No connection. I know that.”

  “No direct connection. The connection is on the supply end. The aim is to remove a certain couple of countries from ever again running the world through a lot of contrived incidents and so forth. Believe it or not, they financed the original part of this and now are paying me to try to clean up the mess they’ve made of things.”

  “It’s getting away from them? They only thought they were in charge?”

  “Something like that. They were going to corner the nuclear crap and hold it over the heads of anyone who didn’t agree to their concept of a perfect world – which consists, of course, of them having all the power and privilege. It seems they were able to get a group together to steal the art – and a lot of things with more real and intrinsic value – and use it to finance the venture. The group who hold the art have gotten together here, Colombia, Venezuela and Mexico and made a plan to do exactly what was planned, with one small difference.”

  “They would have the power and privilege.”

  “Uh-huh. This one, nobody wins. I’ve managed to stop the possible supply, now I’m eliminating the ones who were making the plans.”

  “It seems to me you’re working for the original planners. A, as you say, minor detail.”

  “They think so, too.

  “Clint, these people chose Panamá, to hide. Two of them are from here and some have spent time here. They’re concentrated here, but one is here and one is there in three other countries. I don’t know why they aren’t mostly in their original base country.”

  “Because, why would they be here? There’s also that the location’s central and they have the canal they can use to come and go without being particularly noted. It’s a paradise country where they can go into small towns and live a great life. The thing that catches them and sets them off from the natives is that they’re the type they are. Those people aren’t liked by anyone, anywhere. They don’t see it.

  “The difference here and in the more socalled modern and highly sophisticated places is that the natives will pity them and the city people will play them for what they can get. They never seem to catch on that they’re really a pathetic bunch of cruds. They think they’re impressing people with what they have. They don’t realize they don’t have anything these people want.

  “Don’t use Emanuel anymore, Okay?”

  “It’s almost done. There are two more here. Emanuel has an amazing ability for finding them. I don’t know where he gets the information.”

  “Veronica.”

  “The one he e-mails? She can give him enough information that he can find them in no time, yet she doesn’t do it herself?”

  “It’s a very simple system. You get all the modern techniques and such and get nowhere. He ... it doesn’t matter. He has a knack. It probably wouldn’t work for us.

  “You know perfectly damned well I can’t give even strong circumstantial evidence to get you, don’t you.”

  “Hm. That’s why I command such ridiculous fees. We won’t hurt Emanuel.”

  “I wouldn’t give a damn if it was only the guilty. What about that girl and the snakebite?”

  “That was a snakebite, believe it or not. I only went there because people said Castile was a friend of Rincón. She was fine when I left. She was trying to get me into bed, probably for a fee, but I didn’t have the time. I think it would have b
een fun.”

  Clint thought and nodded.

  “The rest are the original planners?”

  “Yes. For the most part. I know who they are. Emanuel’s job is almost done.”

  “Many of them?”

  “Right now, four in this area. They think they’re totally safe.”

  “Nobody is.”

  “True. Watch your back, Clint. If they tumble that you know anything you have to remember you’re no more safe than they are.”

  “I won’t go after you, you won’t go after me. We understand what the hell is going on in the world. Just be absolutely sure no innocent friend of mine gets drawn into it.”

  “I like the Indios, too. They treat me like I’m just another person who may be interesting and maybe even could be a friend. That wouldn’t change if they knew what I’m doing, would it?”

  “They might not approve, but they wouldn’t make judgements so long as you don’t involve them or their people.”

  “Just like you. And me.”

  Clint nodded.

  “Who? Here?”

  Clint considered. “I think I know! I wonder ... can Emanuel find this one?”

  “You can, it would seem.”

  “If I know what I’m looking for. I could ask the Indios in this kind of place about certain things and know in minutes.

  “No. I won’t .”

  He laughed. “I didn’t think you would. It’s my gig, not yours.”

  “But I won’t protect them, either.”

  He grinned. They came on a group of Indios waiting for a bus. The small children ran out to hug Clint. He embraced a couple of the adults and chatted a minute. He introduced Raul and said, very frankly, that it wasn’t his real name. They accepted that and included him in the conversation.

  They walked on and into the small collection of homes near the little store. Emanuel was there and said that Ernesto Lopez was out riding somewhere and wouldn’t be back until late. He left a note that he had called and would possibly come back next week if he was in the area.

  “You aren’t going to wait for him here?” Clint asked.

  “No. His girlfriend says he sometimes stays for three or four days when he rides out with those two snobs from Panamá City, so I’ll go on. From what she said and what others said I doubt I could reach the poor soul. They say he is entirely obsessed with money and thinks he’s the king of the world. They say he is a very sad and unhappy man and that makes him a mean and evil man. He blasphemes constantly and says – this is what they say he says, not my words – `God can kiss my ass.’ That is so sad. I believe him to be damned beyond redemption, though I feel God will forgive anything if there is true remorse.

  “I am torn. I may be able to help the man, but it may not be possible. I am not the best at reaching such people.”

  “Well, I always felt you took such things too personally. You can only try. It’s not your fault if they’re so set in their ways they won’t listen to anyone else.

  “There! I’ve come around a bit toward your philosophy! You’re getting to me!”

  Emanuel laughed. “You’re not a very good liar, Clint. I think there’s hope.”

  “Where will we go next?” Clint asked. “Raul” said he had to move on. He had an important meeting. He shook hands with Emanuel and Clint and strolled on toward the south along the road.

  “I will contact Veronica when we are back in David. I would like to take the bus to the dam and get off there. I want to look around the area where you gave me such insight into my own mind and brought my hidden fears into the light.

  “Clint. I want to walk out on that dam and look at the beautiful scene on both sides. I want to look down to that river hundreds of meters below and feel the thrill I felt at the washout. I will then flag the next bus into David.

  “Clint, I am most serious. You have freed me.

  “I will, of course, continue on my quest for Veronica and the group. I gave my word. I never do that lightly. I will also inform her that I feel it is fast coming the time I will seek other ways to help my fellow man. I feel the path chosen is not effective enough.

  “I will find a place. Perhaps here in Panamá. I think Darien was beautiful and natural.

  “Clint, I am not going to try to impress anyone with my beliefs anymore. That was a terrible mistake and had the result of turning people away from me and from God. I did not see it.

  “I will be like Alan, the man who took me in and saved me from the horrors my parents’ sad lifestyle can engender. I will let there be no mistakes in thinking I am not a very religious person, but I will offer advice only when asked. I will not volunteer that advice unless it is a case such as these for Veronica and I will not try to force anyone to accept my word. I have learned that lesson. I am as capable of being wrong as anyone else.”

  Clint nodded. They waited a few minutes and boarded the next bus. They got off at the dam. Emanuel walked shakily out a short distance on the reservoir side and stood to scan the area. He took out a digital camera and took some photos, then walked across to the drop and river side. Clint, waiting for him at the end of the dam, could see he was shaking and almost terrified, but he went and looked out, then down. He stood for a moment, then took some pictures, then went out farther and repeated the ritual.

  He came back walking steadily. His eyes were almost in a fanatic gleam. “It’s truly magnificent! What hath God wrought!

  “Clint! I am FREE!”

  He hugged Clint tightly. Clint was surprised and didn’t quite know how to react.

  “Shall we continue to David?” Emanuel asked happily.

  They waited at the line of small stores by the road. Emanuel went out to the little rise at the reception center and took some more pictures. The next bus was full, so they took the following one. They got into David at dusk.

  David

  Clint took Emanuel to the Pension Costa Rica and got them both rooms. He went to Peter’s for a while, then to Bohmfalk’s, then returned for the night. Emanuel had gone to the internet and contacted Veronica. She said she had only one other for him to contact now. A woman in San Blas. She, like so many lost souls, was using an alias there, but would know the name Daniela Winston. She liked horses and was known to be somewhere in that area. Emanuel said he told her that would work out very well as he was planning on staying in Panamá. He felt he could do some real good here, but working with medical and educational projects that didn’t include religion directly.

  “I told her I am through being some kind of evangelical closed-minded preacher out to save the world from itself. She said she wished me well and that she would send ten thousand dollars to help me get started in good works.

  “I replied that the fund surely wasn’t enough for such a hit, but she said there was a special fund to help those who found where their real calling was. She, quite frankly, was never convinced that the methods we were using were effective. Help in areas that met a true and deep need of the local people are effective. She said she is always uneasy about methods that are like hitting people in the head with a board to make them see the light. It, too often, results in their losing sight of the light altogether.

  “I never knew her to be so practical, but I suppose she is in a position where she must follow rules of others to be able to accomplish any good at all. I believe her to be a very good person.”

  Clint didn’t say what he felt about the lovely Veronica. He managed a nod. Tomorrow, Emanuel would go to San Blas.

  In the morning Clint went with Emanuel to the bus station where he sent him off. He would e-mail Clint about his projects from time-to-time. Clint went to La Tipica for breakfast. He talked with a lot of friends from the area and caught up on the latest gossip. About ten o’clock he was back at the Costa Rica to collect his things . He would take a later bus to Bocas del Toro and home.

  He saw a sort of dumpy character sitting on a rocking chair in the front of the pension simply because he always automatically noted everyone in such places. He g
ot his bags and was heading out. He glanced at the old fellow and noted the startling blue eyes.

  He grinned and waved. “Raul” laughed and came to walk with him.

  “I’m called Chico now,” he said, putting on his sunglasses. “I think there’s little for me to do anymore. The Panamá part is as much as done.

  “One left. You gonna tell me where or do I have to spend twenty minutes finding out my own way?”

  “San Blas. What about the fine upstanding Mr. Lopez?”

  “I’m afraid Mr. Lopez, Miss Garcia and Mr. Williams rode out from a little burg called Mali to a place in some area called Bajo El Valle and got caught in a little rockslide. Three hundred meters into the rocks by the river. Sad.

  “I said four. One more in Panamá, then back to the states. My job’ll be done in about a month, then I retire. I wish there was a way I could come here and not be found. I don’t know what it is about this country, but you start to think in an entirely different way here. I would like to spend the next fifty years in Panamá, I think.”

  “There’s a way.”

  “Marko? I knew about that before they moved here. When he was starting to build that place on Isla San Cristobal.”

  “Marko had to be taught how to disappear. You don’t.”

  “Clint, no matter how good you are at what you do, there’s always someone better.”

  “But does it matter if anyone at that level in your profession knows?”

  He thought a moment. “It could be worth a shot! I love this place and these people.”

  Clint wished him luck. “Take care.”

  “I always do. I wouldn’t survive a day if I didn’t.”

  Clint caught the bus to Bocas del Toro. He was in Chiriqui Grande four hours later so stayed the night there. He decided to go to Cusapin for a couple of days, called Judi – who said Dave was out there again – and got caught up on local affairs, then met Andres at the dock to head for the closest place to paradise he’d ever found.