Susan nodded. “I promise, Bob. I won’t do anything.”
“I don’t want to lose you. You know that?”
Susan hugged him again. She would not say a word to him, but she had made up her mind. Even if she had to risk her life, she would save those children. But she would not risk Bob’s life. All she whispered was, “I know.”
Richards looked at her and tried to see if she meant it.
He couldn’t tell.
It was not until after his shower, after he had dressed and driven Susan to the orphanage, after he had been to the bank and returned to his apartment to put some money in the wall-safe behind the Stars and Stripes, that he knew she was lying.
“Oh, shit,” he said out loud. He rushed to the phone, punched in the orphanage number and waited impatiently for them to pick up.
“Is Susan there?” he asked urgently in Portuguese, recognising Fabriola’s voice. “Is she there?”
“No, Senhor Hichards. She said she must go out for the rest of the day, that she had some business to attend to.”
“Business? What kind of business?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, God,” Richards said, forgetting himself. “Tell me this isn’t real.”
“Oh what?”
“Forget it. Thanks, Fabriola.”
“It’s nothing, Senhor Hichards. Until tomorrow.”
Richards put the phone down and walked back to the safe. He shook his head in anger and in sorrow. The necklace was gone.
“Goddamn it, Sue,” he muttered. “Why couldn’t you just ... listen?”
After a couple more frantic phone calls, he ran out of his apartment and charged down the stairs to the underground parking lot. He drove like a maniac across the hectic city, then parked a discreet distance from the front entrance of General del Campo’s mansion, hoping to stop Susan before she could get herself killed. He watched the street like a hawk. If he were a religious man, he would have prayed. As sunset came and went without any sign of Susan, he toyed with the idea of praying anyway. But by midnight Richards knew he was too late. He knew she hadn’t gone to the barracks, at least not since two o’clock. He had paid the private investigator a small fortune to watch the army base at zero notice. And now he couldn’t bring himself to start the car and drive home knowing that Susan was probably already in a cell somewhere, being interrogated.
His worst nightmare had come true. Maybe she was already dead. Richards hung his head and rested on the steering wheel, exhausted.
Chapter 21
Susan felt bad about stealing the necklace from Bob’s wall-safe. She had watched him open it two weeks previously and memorised the combination. For his part, Richards had never thought to suspect that she would ever abuse the information. The night she had learned the combination they were just two lovers, happy together, following each other around the apartment, laughing with dizzy anticipation, preparing to make love.
“I’ll just get some money from the safe,” Richards had told her. “You’ll need some US dollars if you want to get the best price on those shoes.”
“What safe?” she had said, nibbling on his ear, hugging him from behind. “I didn’t know you had a safe.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Richards had joked, leading her to the Stars and Stripes that hung on his living room wall and pushing it aside to reveal a small safe recessed into the wall.
She had continued nibbling at him while he opened the safe. “I hope you’re going to reveal ... everything to me.” She laughed.
Richards had turned the dial of the safe to the right, 64, the left 36, then right, 12. And it had popped open. Susan remembered it well. It wasn’t that she had been planning to steal the necklace. She was just naturally good with numbers. She could see them in her mind almost photographically. Telephone numbers. Automobile license plates. Numbers of bank accounts. A safe combination was just six digits. It was easy. At home in London, the church committee had even made her treasurer. Numbers were easy for her. She simply could not help but remember.
She remembered the love they had made that night, too. She remembered the way he had held her afterwards, she remembered his smell, she remembered listening to his heartbeat. She remembered how much she loved him, how much he meant to her. But she remembered the numbers.
And when Bob had told her, just a few hours ago, that she had to give up, that there was nothing more they could do to save the children, she had felt guilty about lying, about promising him she would not do anything stupid. Even as she had made the promise she was already remembering the safe combination, already deciding what she must do.
She knew the numbers, she knew the children needed her help, and she knew that every human being would be held accountable before God for what they did in defining moments, in moments that made the difference between actually caring and just saying one cares. Susan couldn’t just walk away, not knowing what she did. She had to try. She had to lie to Bob, take the necklace, and put her life on the line.
And that was how she came to find herself standing here, waiting for a reply from a murderer. Bob had told her the man was evil, that he was a son of a bitch who would not hesitate to have her killed just for the hell of it, and that she must never contact him. But Susan was willing to bet her life that Bob was wrong. A judge must have a shred of decency. And so she had come.
For his part, Judge Marcus was simply perplexed to see the nervous Englishwoman trembling before him. He could not imagine what on earth she wanted, barging into his office without an appointment and demanding to see him, saying it was a matter of life and death. Marcus had been annoyed with his clerk for letting the woman in, but the clerk had countered that the woman was English and that she would not take no for an answer. Marcus thought she spoke appalling Portuguese. He wished she would go away so he could get some work done. The woman was babbling.
“What did you say, Senhora? I didn’t understand.”
“Judge, you must for to ask your clerk to leave alone us.” Susan’s Portuguese was getting progressively worse. She was sick with fear.
Marcus got up from his desk chair and scratched his forehead impatiently. He decided to speak English. It might be easier. “Madam, if you will kindly calm down then perhaps I can help you.”
“Oh, you speak English, Judge. Thank God. Look, could you ask your clerk to leave us? What I have to say is private.”
The Judge rolled his eyes in consternation. “Leave us,” he barked at the clerk. “Now Madam I must be frank and tell you I don’t see clients without appointments. If you require the services of a lawyer ...”
Susan ignored him and went to the door of his huge office. She closed it, leaving the two of them alone and unobserved. Marcus looked on incredulously as she did this, his words trailing off into silence.
“I don’t need a lawyer. I’m not a client. I have to speak to you alone, Judge. You’ll understand why. This is a matter of life and death.”
“So you keep saying, Senhora ...?”
“My name’s not important. I’m ... I’m the Street Angel.”
“I don’t understand, Senhora. What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know me, Judge. I know you got my note, and I know you got the videotape. I’m the Street Angel.”
Marcus thought carefully. He had shown the note to no one. It was impossible that anyone should know that the writer had used the codename, Street Angel. Anyone, that is, other than the author. “You? You filmed the videotape? You wrote the note?”
“Yes. What’s wrong, Judge? Didn’t you think it could be a woman?”
“I admit that I did not. Forgive me. Perhaps you should sit down, my dear. Then we can talk.” Marcus indicated an armchair.
Susan sat down. She crossed her legs nervously.
Marcus took a good look at her, at her long legs clad in tan slacks and at her elegant white blouse falling over her small breasts. He decided she was attractive, that she knew it, and
that she had dressed to impress him. Silently he lamented the fact that he was such an old and useless man, at least when it came to women. “Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps it would help you to relax. And in any case it is not often that such an attractive foreign woman comes to my office.”
“I’m not here to socialise, Judge. But thank you.”
“Then I hope you will not mind if I have one. American whiskey is one of my weaknesses. I would like to say that another of my weaknesses is pretty women, but alas at my age I am beyond such things.” Marcus sat down and took a shot of his bourbon. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I want you to help the children.”
“I don’t think I understand. I thought your interest was in seeing General del Campo humiliated. At least, I took that from your note.”
Susan thought quickly. “Yes, yes. That’s right. I’m an aid worker. I’m from one of the orphanages. And we’re so frustrated with what the military police have been doing, harassing the street kids, I thought if they were publicly embarrassed they might decide to leave us alone. We all hate del Campo, Judge. I thought you did, too. That’s why I sent you the package. I thought you’d use it to have the general deposed.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. It seemed an unlikely story. “I must admit I was intrigued by you not demanding money for the videotape. After all, it has been most profitable to me.”
“Judge, this isn’t about money. I didn’t want any money.”
“Then it is about the children?”
Susan nodded in relief. She thought he must be a decent man after all. “Yes, that’s right. It’s all about the children. We want to save them.”
“We? Who is we?”
“The orphanage. I mean, they don’t know I’ve done this. I dared not show the tape to anyone, not anyone, because if anyone knew about the tape their life would be in danger, but ... we at the orphanage care about the children. I saw ... a chance to help them. So I took it. On my own.”
Marcus took another gulp of his whiskey. “Senhora, do you have any idea of the kind of business you are involved in, here? Do you have any idea of the kind of money the general has paid me to solve the problem of this videotape and make it go away?”
Susan tried to sound convincing. “Of course. I’m glad you were able to make a ... a handsome profit from the tape. That was the idea.”
“I see. Well, Senhora, excuse me but the deal is already made. Two million dollars, as a matter of fact. I will retire a wealthy man.”
“Yes. But I want to help the children, as well.”
“You want to help the children?” Marcus said sarcastically.
“Yes.”
“Senhora, it would have been much better if you had just sent the note and not contacted me again. Now you are beginning to annoy me.”
“He’s going to kill them, Judge. I’ve made a lot of money for you, now I’m asking you to help the children. Please.” Susan hoped she didn’t sound as pathetic as she felt. She knew she was in over her head.
“The Street Angel. I thought this was an unusual name. I thought it must have come from an unusual person. But not a stupid one.”
“I’m sorry? What?”
“Senhora, you must realise the most convenient thing to do with a fool like you is to have you killed. You are a very brave woman to have made that videotape, and to come to me now. But there is a point at which courage ceases to be courage and becomes ... stupidity. Fatal stupidity.”
“I know,” Susan said simply. “But I’m here for the children.”
“You see, Senhora, in order to collect my two million dollars, it was necessary to play one man against the general. The man in the video, if you must know. The man who killed the boy. He is quite an idiot, I don’t mind telling you, and it was a simple task to convince him that the video was taken by the general’s own men, and from there, to have him do my bidding. This matter is at quite a delicate stage as we speak. Namely, I have not yet collected my money. People are going to die over this little transaction, including this stupid man. And, quite possibly, you.”
“I didn’t come here to commit suicide, Judge. I’m not that stupid.”
“I’m glad to hear it. It would be such a pity.”
“I came here to ask you for mercy. Not for me. For the children.”
“My dear, I think there is something you do not understand. Let me explain it more clearly. I could not care less that Captain Sollo, the man you filmed, kills these little bastards with clockwork regularity. Normally he shows more restraint and does it in private, but apparently this one time he got lazy and killed in the open. Of that I am very glad. Very glad indeed. Soon I will be two million dollars richer for it. But I could not care less that these little – How do you say it? – street kids, are dying. Let them die.”
“Why, Judge? Why should they die?”
“Should? Why? Why not? These children are killers, thieves, vandals. Sometimes they slash people, even babies, with their palm-knives, just for the hell of it. Not even for money. Just for the blood.”
“Not all of them, Judge. You’re talking about a few killers. Most of them are just innocent children trying to survive. They’re not like that.”
Marcus shook his head. “Ah, Senhora. The bliss of the ignorant. You have no idea what these little bastards are like. Be grateful that you do not meet them in a dark street one night. Then you will know.”
“Please, Judge, think about it.” Susan urged as forcefully as she could. “Would I be here risking my life for a bunch of killers? I’m here for the good kids, the ones that don’t deserve to die. No child deserves to die.”
“I’m touched by the sentiment, but I prefer to live in the real world. What an old judge like me deserves is to retire with some dignity and with a few million dollars under his pillow. And what someone as foolish as you deserves is to disappear and not cause me any more trouble, one way or the other. And as for these grotty little thieves, I consider them vermin. Forgive me for being blunt but you are beginning to try my patience.”
“I can’t just walk away. I can’t let the children die.”
“In that case, Senhora, this is when it is time for me to see you out. Then I will speak to my clerk and he will speak to a mafioso who owes me a favour and he will speak to a faceless man you will never even see coming. And then you will no longer be concerned about the children.”
Susan stood up defiantly. “Damn you, you old bastard! Don’t you realise I am willing to die for this? I can’t let him kill all those children.”
Marcus looked up at her distastefully. “Madam, no one speaks to me that way. I suggest you leave now. I would be delighted to have you killed here, but it could be messy. However I will be glad to oblige elsewhere.” He raised his whiskey glass to his lips.
Susan walked over to him and put a hand on the glass, stopping him from drinking it. She did this with surprising gentleness.
Marcus looked at her pale hand. Her fingers rested on his own.
“I’m willing to do anything to save them,” Susan muttered. “Anything.”
Marcus smiled. He never expected her to show such spunk. “I told you before, Senhora, I’m an old man. I would be delighted to take you up on your offer, if I could, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Susan could barely believe she had just tried to sell sex for a favour. She was relieved the Judge had turned her down, since she had no intention of going through with it anyway. But it was one of those moments.
“Then you’ll have to kill me here,” she said softly. “Because I’m not leaving. Not without you agreeing to help the children.”
“Help them? And why should I?”
Susan sat down again. “Do you have any children, Judge Antonio?”
“I have a daughter. She is twenty-nine. But if we are going to use first names, I am at a disadvantage.”
“It’s Susan.”
“A pretty name. Yes. So, I have a daughter. What of it?”
�
��I can’t offer you anything in return, but I want a favour of you. Something I want you to do for your daughter. Stop the killing. Don’t you see if one child can disappear, so can two, ten ... a hundred? I’m asking you for your daughter and for your daughter’s daughters. It needn’t make any difference to the money, to the two million dollars. But don’t you see if a general can kill one child and get away with it, he can kill another and another? You’re a parent, Judge. I’m asking you to see that.”
“My daughter is in no danger. The general knows if he touches her he will find himself hunted down and killed like a dog. I have friends. In fact, my dear Susan, that is the single worst business proposition I have ever heard. You offer me nothing, yet you ask me to do much for you.”
“Then do it for this,” Susan said. She pulled an exquisite diamond and ruby necklace out of her handbag and put it on the coffee table. “The Tears of the Angels. It’s yours, in return for the lives of the children.”
Marcus was completely surprised by this. He picked up the necklace and examined it closely. It was clearly the genuine item. “You have the necklace? But how could you? Ah, it must be true that the children had taken it. I thought my contacts had the story wrong. But it is true.”
“Yes, it’s true. The children had the necklace. One of them gave it to me. It’s worth a quarter of a million dollars. It’s yours, if you’ll just agree to have the general stop the killings. Do we have deal, Antonio?”
Marcus looked bemused. “Susan, you surprise me. I should hope that you are already an angel, to do something as stupid as this. Then death should not concern you. Do you not realise I could have you sent to prison for possession of this necklace? But I would not need to bother. The general will surely kill anyone who has it. And as for its worth, it’s valued at a little over two hundred thousand. The general was a romantic fool to think of paying a quarter-million. And I’m not interested in such small change.”
“It’s still a lot of money, Judge. Think about it.”
“How could I sell it? It would certainly be traced back to me.”
The Street Angel Page 19
