The Street Angel

by Robert Gollagher

Susan was beginning to despair. “Don’t tell me I’ve risked my life for nothing. All I want is to stop the killings. Please ... help me.”

  Suddenly Marcus laughed out loud.

  Susan looked at him laughing, not knowing what to think.

  Eventually he stopped. “Susan. What is your last name?”

  “Harris-Smythe.”

  “This is your real name? No lies?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you have slept with me, Susan, if I had taken you up on your little offer just now? Would you have gone through with it?”

  “Probably not. I ... I’m not sure.”

  “Are you married, Susan?”

  “Yes. He’s in London.”

  “I see. And do you suppose he wants you dead?”

  Susan spoke defiantly. “I don’t care what my husband wants. I’m sure he’d think I was crazy to be begging for the lives of a few street kids.”

  “Even if it kills you?”

  “Even if it kills me. They’re just children, Judge. Children.”

  “What do you do, Susan? What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a schoolteacher. Um ... I’m retired. I do charity work for the church. The Church of England. That’s what brought me to Brazil.”

  “My dear Susan, a woman like you has no place putting her nose in my business. People die because of me. Money changes hands. People find themselves acquitted of ... inconvenient charges. Other people disappear in prison. You probably think I would not really have you killed. After all, you have done nothing to me. But I would.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “But I’m not going to do that. And do you know why?”

  “No.”

  “Because I’m an old man, only half a man as my wife used to say, and I will never have a woman again. But the necklace you have brought to me can give me, shall we say, my final satisfaction. Frankly, Susan, I care little what happens to the little street bastards, but I care a great deal for revenge. A great deal. And you have given me that.”

  Susan’s heart quickened. “And the children?”

  Marcus ignored the question. “You came here to work for the church?”

  “I’m working at the Mercy of God Orphanage. I came to help, yes.”

  “Do you believe in God, Susan? And how he must judge us?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  Marcus took another swig of his whiskey, draining the glass. “Well, Susan, the Lord knows my life has been less than saintly. I’m an old man. There is blood on my hands and more blood to come. But I too am a believer. Perhaps doing this one little thing might redeem me in the eyes of God.”

  “I’m sure it would,” said Susan eagerly.

  At this, Marcus burst into hilarious laughter. He almost cried. “In the eyes of God? Redeem myself? You people believe ... anything. Adolf Hitler said that, you know, Susan. The bigger the lie, the easier you believe.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  “You are a stupid woman, Susan Harris-Smythe. Go back to your husband in London and keep your nose out of my business. I guarantee you the general will have you killed if he learns of your involvement in all this. And I will do nothing to stop him.”

  “But you said ...”

  “I have no interest in killing the likes of you. It would be a waste. Such a pretty woman, and so high-principled. We need more of your type in society. Keep us all honest.” Marcus laughed again.

  Susan felt a wave of hatred for him. She began to walk out.

  “Susan, one more thing,” the judge called after her. “I will grant your request. You have no idea how it will warm my heart, the revenge I can do with this. It will be almost better than sex. A rare enjoyment indeed.”

  Susan stopped at the door before opening it. “Is that all that matters to you? Only revenge? Nothing else I said made any difference?”

  “You are a good woman, my dear. I can see that. Once I was married to a good woman. You remind me of her, if you must know why.”

  Susan looked at him in silent disgust.

  Then she walked out.

  When night fell she drove to the beach at Boa Viagem, ignored the danger of walking alone, and went down to the water. She walked along the dark sand for hours, trying to understand. She had saved the children, but she felt sick to her stomach. She thought she would find something decent in the man, something to appeal to. Instead she had prostituted herself, or at least offered to. She had begged him for mercy for the children and he had laughed at her. And in the end the only thing which had made any difference was his gratitude for some kind of revenge he wanted to extract with the necklace, which she could not even understand. She wondered who else might suffer now that the children had been saved, what other lives would be lost, what she had become a party to. But most of all she felt sick to find a man so devoid of any compassion or decency, a man who only let her live because she reminded him of his wife. It was all so absurd, so insane, and she could understand none of it.

  Somehow she felt she had lost her innocence, that she had gone into something she should never have walked into, that she had been irrevocably tainted by what had happened. She almost felt she had blood on her hands, that doing a deal with a vile man like that made her just as bad. But what she had done had saved lives.

  Susan had never met a man she thought so utterly evil.

  And what was she doing in Brazil? Having an affair. Cheating on Adrian. How she hated Adrian. He was such a bore, such an inconsiderate ass, but he was still her husband. She had taken an oath to love him, to be faithful to him, an oath in the sight of God. Instead she was sleeping with another man – she was deeply, deeply in love with another man. Was it wrong? She didn’t know any more. She simply didn’t know.

  Susan decided she would go and see Bob, right at that moment. She had to see him, had to convince herself that her love for him was still real, had to try and understand it, and had to tell him the news.

  It was one in the morning when she asked the old caretaker at his apartment building to let her into the lobby. She took the elevator to Bob’s floor and knocked on his door. It opened surprisingly fast.

  When Richards saw her, he nearly collapsed. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Susan. You’re alive. Oh, thank God.” He hugged her, then led her inside.

  Susan found herself overcome with emotion, all at once. She cried. She just stood there, holding him, and cried.

  Richards kept talking. “I thought you’d gone to the general. Oh God, Susan, he would have had you interrogated. I thought the worst. I just can’t believe you’re still here. Thank God.”

  “I’m sorry, Bob,” Susan whispered. “I had to try.”

  “You went to Marcus, didn’t you? I thought of that too late. I should have known that’s where you’d be going. I should have known. I was stupid. Damn it, I should have known.” He squeezed her tight.

  “I saved them, Bob. I saved them. Marcus agreed to stop the killings.”

  “He what? How? Why would he agree to that?”

  “I don’t know. He said something about using the necklace for revenge.” Susan looked at the floor. “And ... I offered to sleep with him. I don’t know what came over me. I was desperate to save the children. I don’t know what came over me ...”

  “Jesus, Sue. I don’t care about that. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

  Susan leaned against him. “I’m so tired. Can we sleep now?”

  “No. No, no. We’ve gotta get you outta here. I’ve got a friend. Ricardo. He’s got a sugar plantation outside of town, and plenty of connections. I’m getting you out there tonight. You’ll be safe there. You can’t go back to the orphanage, do you understand?”

  “What? I suppose so. If you think I have to.”

  “And you’ve got to stay out of town, lie low till we can get you out of the country. Judge Marcus is a mean bastard, you never know when he might mention you to the general. If he does that, they’ll kill you. You have to get out of the country.”
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br />   “Tonight? Do I have to go to the farm tonight? Can’t we be together?” Susan leaned against him again. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “There’s no time. We’ve gotta move right now. Marcus might have already made a call. There could be people waiting for you at the orphanage. Come on, I’ve got a driver downstairs. He’ll take you to Ricardo. Remember what I said about my Brazilian friends? Well ... I’d trust Ricardo with my life. He’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

  Susan looked at him. “What have I done, Bob? Will they come for you too? Have I killed us?”

  “Not if I can help it. If you didn’t mention me, there’s probably no connection. I can talk my way out of it. But we’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “Bob, I’m sorry. I only did what I thought was right.”

  When Richards bundled Susan into the little car that the farmhand had waiting below in the underground lot, he put a hand on her shoulder before closing the car door. “You’ll be safe on the farm. Ricardo’s men are well armed. We’ll get you out of Brazil in a few days.”

  “I’m sorry, Bob. I’m sorry.”

  Richards nodded. “I should have known you’d try it. Who knows? Maybe you really have saved them. It’s hard to say what Marcus will do. There’s a chance he meant it. The killings might stop.”

  Susan felt too guilty at putting Bob’s life at risk to say anything.

  “I admire what you did, Sue. I never would have done it.”

  “Really? Do you mean that?”

  “Yeah. But this time you have stay out of sight, we have to get you out of the country. I’m not kidding. You’d never be lucky a second time.”

  “I know.”

  “All right. You’d better get going.” Richards closed the door and tapped on the top of the car. The driver started the engine.

  Susan spoke out of the window. “Bob, in case anything happens ...”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you,” Susan said softly.

  “I love you, too,” Richards replied matter-of-factly. “So stay safe.”

  “I will,” said Susan, as the car began to roll away.

  “Make sure you do,” Richards said to himself, as he watched the car turn into the street. “Because I don’t want to lose you. You know that?”

  Chapter 22

  In life, Judge Marcus knew, there were a few things which were sweet beyond words. One was the love of a good woman, a pleasure he would never know again. Another was the privilege and comfort that money brought, which he was soon to know in great abundance. But sweetest of all was to take revenge on someone he had despised for two decades, someone who had dragged his name through the mud, someone who took delight at humiliating him openly at the poker table and secretly behind his back. Marcus had seen the smiles, heard the muffled laughter. To make fun of the loss of another man’s manhood was the worst insult of all. And until now Marcus had never had the means for true revenge. Yes, he had arranged to extract two million dollars from the unfortunate general, and that pleased him greatly, but Marcus knew full well that such a sum was just small change to the likes of del Campo. It would not really hurt him. What would hurt a man most would be to lose that which he loved more than anything.

  Marcus had found the pathetic pleading of the Englishwoman for the lives of a few grubby little thieves utterly contemptible, but he had still admired her courage, even as stupid as she was. He would not kill her. Marcus was not averse to having people killed, if need be, but he preferred not to get his hands dirty unless absolutely necessary. There were safer ways for a man in the legal profession to generate income than to get directly involved in homicide. Nevertheless, he had enjoyed tormenting the woman. It made him feel almost virile again. And she was such a pretty woman. It was almost a pity to think that if del Campo ever found out about her he would certainly kill her. Perhaps she would be smart enough to keep out of the way and not interfere again. Then the general might never hear of her.

  But what she had asked for, that the children be spared, was something Marcus had found a greater meaning in. It was a pointless exercise to spare the lives of a few irrelevant little thugs, but Marcus was a superstitious man. He had been handed on a platter the greatest opportunity for revenge he had ever known. It seemed appropriate to thank the messenger. And denying the general an outlet for his anger would make revenge even sweeter, it would make del Campo just as impotent as Marcus himself. This was the reason Marcus had summoned the general one last time to his judicial rooms, that he had his clerk search him for wires and then leave them alone for a final private conference. With it he would work his master stroke. It was an effort not to smile gleefully as he spoke.

  “Sit down please, General. I apologise for calling you here again.”

  Del Campo took a seat in front of the judge’s huge desk. “I’m a busy man, Marcus. I hope you’ve not brought me here to gloat. You’ll get your money. I stick to my deals. But I will not tolerate further insults.”

  “Gloat, General? Me, such a quiet and ... pliable man? Of course not.”

  “Well, what do you want? I’m due back at the barracks.”

  “About the little matter of the two million dollars.”

  “That is my final price, Judge. Do not ask me for more. And a poor man like you should be happy with such a sum.” Del Campo smirked.

  “Indeed. It is rather a lot of money to me. For that I thank you.”

  “What then?” said the general impatiently.

  “Nothing, really. I simply require one more condition, and you have my word this is the final item. Call me a sentimental fool, but this kind of publicity we have in the newspapers – ‘Street Kids Murdered’ headlines – it’s not good for Brazil. And I love my country. Therefore, General, you are not to touch one hair on the head of one more street kid, or you will find yourself in the next cell to Captain Sollo.”

  Del Campo snorted. “You can’t be serious, Marcus. This is nonsense. These thieves I can dispose of quietly. No reporter need ever know.”

  “I’m afraid I am serious, General. Quietly or not, you will not touch the children. Do we understand each other?”

  The general was so incredulous he could not at first answer. He just laughed. “I think you are senile in your old age, Marcus. But if it is that important to you, I agree. I care nothing for the little bastards either way.”

  “Good. Other than that, we shall call it quits. After all, this is such an insignificant thing I ask of you. You only wish to vent your spleen by killing them, so why not just forget about them altogether?”

  “All right, Marcus,” said del Campo, annoyed. He knew Marcus wished to deny him the pleasure of revenge. “You’ve made your point.”

  “After all,” Marcus continued, “Nothing will change. You will still be a free man, still a very wealthy man, enjoying life just as much as before this whole debacle. I will retire in comfort. A most agreeable outcome.”

  “If you’ve quite finished, Judge, I have work to do.” The general went to get up from his chair, but Marcus waved him back into it.

  “Not quite. You might want to have your office call that American reporter, the one who printed the execution story with the picture that was so embarrassing for Captain Sollo, and confirm to him that you are going to host a charity dance at the ... Mercy of God Orphanage.”

  “What are you up to, Marcus?” the general growled.

  “Nothing at all. As I said, all this bad publicity has been unfortunate. So I thought a little public relations exercise would be advisable. I have already taken the liberty of having the event organised for the twenty-eighth of next month. You and your wife will officially open the event, pose for the cameras with the children, kiss a few babies. You know the sort of thing.”

  “Must you stick your nose into everything, Marcus?”

  “Think of it, General. Your image has been tarnished. Front-page photographs of the execution of a young boy by one of your men. Speculation in the American newspapers about how
long this has been going on. Bureaucrats in Brasilia asking awkward questions. We can’t have the Chief of Military Police looking so bad. This should put that to rights.”

  Del Campo sighed. “I suppose it is a reasonable idea.”

  “That’s the spirit, General. You get to come out of all of this a ... public hero, protector of the children. And your uncontrollable renegade Captain Sollo becomes the villain. You pledge to root all such corruption out of the military police. The people will love it. You can’t lose. It’s good for Brazil.”

  “Hmmm. Very well. I’ll do it.”

  “Fine. In that case our business is completed and life can get back to normal around here.” Marcus stood up. “Thank you, General. I shall not call you again. You may consider our transaction completed.”

  Del Campo rose from his seat. “Until next time, Marcus.”

  “Farewell, General. Oh, and by the way, I think it’s about time our friend Sollo went to prison. Don’t you?”

  “I’ll see to it,” said del Campo, turning to leave.

  Marcus smirked. It was regrettable that he could not be at the event himself to witness his revenge first hand. That would be just a little too obvious of him. But he knew it would be very, very sweet.

  Once the general had gone, Marcus lit himself a cigar.

  Chapter 23

  They had finished making love. Now they were relaxing out on the balcony of the penthouse apartment, enjoying the warm tropical air rolling in from the dark Atlantic Ocean. It was late and quiet. The sounds of the beach were soothing. Gentle waves. An occasional car sped past far below, but most people had gone home for the night. The beach was deserted.

  Fernando del Campo was not concerned about being out on the balcony with Juliet. He knew the judge had photographed them here once before. But soon he would announce to his wife that he would be leaving her. He no longer had to be quite so careful. At any rate, the towering apartment block was just one of dozens that lined the endless beach. There was virtual anonymity, even half-undressed, nineteen storeys above the ocean. And it was so warm and comfortable on the balcony, he wore only boxer shorts. Juliet was beautiful in her revealing satin robe. This was paradise.