by Moulton, CD
“Ho! The ‘blah’ people,” Tonio said cynically. “They went to Drago on the early bus.”
“Blah people?”
“Uh-huh. Totally blah. No sense of humor. Walk around looking at everything but not seeing anything. Not good and not bad. Paco plays basketball sometimes. He’s not good, but he’s not bad.”
“Yeah!” Sindro agreed. “He’s there because they have to have so many people to make it a game and not just hoops.”
Clint chuckled. “That about describes them!”
He chatted with the kids, who soon went into the water to join the melee. He strolled on back toward the parque, spoke to several people, then went to the police station. Sergio didn’t have anything. A computer check didn’t bring up anything other than their birth dates and school records. They all went to university, no one had excelled at anything. They were average in anything they did, it would seem. Nothing but their pictures in the yearbooks. Never a mention of them in the school (or any other) paper.
“Really ‘blah’ people, according to Tonio and Sindro,” Clint said with a grin.
“That describes them to a T,” Sergio replied. “I can’t picture them doing anything like this.”
“Oh, I can!”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve held in their emotions for their whole lives. It erupted in a lump.”
Sergio shook his head, but agreed that might be a good way to put it. Colorful, but descriptive! “Like when the house was burning and Old Lady Menendez was locked inside and little mousey Chico ran up and ripped the door off its hinges. Stuck his hand through that little observation glass and didn’t even get a scratch. Superhuman strength for five seconds from a skinny teenager who never seemed to react much to anything. His brother died in a house fire six years before and he was close and helpless. Now it was happening again, but to a stranger. He didn’t even remember doing it. Several firemen saw it and couldn’t believe it. They were big men and couldn’t have yanked that two inch thick nispero door off the hinges. It took three of them to lift the damned thing after they got the fire out.”
“Which means even that mousey little woman could have exploded the same way.”
“I tend to think whoever did it had a damned good reason, though I don’t make more than a personal judgment about that kind of thing. That’s for the court to decide.”
“It depends on what’s behind it. There’s something that brought up a lot of hate in one flash. I’m not small, but the machete would have to literally be as sharp as a razor for me to make that kind of a cut.”
“You think it was her, then? It was a man who called.”
“I don’t know which one it was. I imagine two or more could have been there and somebody felt they would need an alibi. They’re acting pretty normal – for them. It could be because they’re trying to not be noticed. Nobody would notice them anyway so it’s hard to say they’re acting any different than they always have.”
“Nobody would know. Nobody ever paid them any attention. Nothing to compare.”
“C’est la vie!”
“Yo tambien.”
Clint grinned and went home. He would have to wait until they came back from Boca del Drago to try to get a clue from personality or whatever.
Blah People
“I talked to her once. She was at the China where we were waiting in line together. She seemed a pleasant enough person in a way. I couldn’t get interested in anything she said. It was about going snorkeling or fishing or something. They didn’t catch anything and the camera’s batteries went dead so they only got a couple of pictures. She talks in a sort of drone.”
“Blah.”
Judi cocked her head to the side and grinned at Clint. “That describes her to perfection! You do come up with something on occasion!”
“Only it was Sindro and Tonio who came up with that.”
“The Indios can peg a person accurately within two minutes of looking at them or hearing them talk – even if they can’t understand the words.”
“I think it was probably a sudden explosion of emotions by someone who kept their emotions bottled for their whole life to that point. It all came out at once. It’s very possible the one who did it won’t remember it at all except having the machete one second and still having it a few seconds later and Benton laying there cut almost in half.”
“I’ve read about that kind of thing. It does happen. What will you do if it’s something like that?”
“As Sergio said, that’s for the court to decide.”
“But will it get to court?”
“Depends.”
She nodded and said she couldn’t think of anyone in Bocas who deserved something like that more than Benton, even though you tended to feel sorry for him most of the time. He couldn’t help it if his parents were animals. He was raised to be the same species they were. It was just that you would think anyone would have the intelligence to see they were misfits just by the way people reacted to them.
“He just saw it as the way all those chinks and spades and wops and spics always act. The fact he couldn’t get along with anyone else never even registered to his, excuse the expression, mind. The world always was out to get the real men and drag them down,” Clint said. “It’s sad we’re talking ill of the dead, but there just isn’t anything good to say about him. I’m not the type to suddenly forget the facts about a person. The fact he’s dead doesn’t change what he was one iota. The fact we can’t think of anything good to say about him tells the truth of the story.”
“Don’t try to be deep. You aren’t!”
Clint chuckled and gave her the finger. She laughed.
“Jude, see if your method of gathering information will work enough to find if anyone ever heard any one of them mimic anyone’s voice.”
“I’ve been doing that. A couple of people heard one of them telling a bawdy – for them – story where he did a mimic of a gay voice to perfection. Trouble is, they can’t remember which one it was. They were all there.”
“I’m used to finding one person who’s good at blending strictly into the background, but not a group! They’d probably make damned good detec ... hmm.” Clint stopped and looked thoughtful.
“What?”
“I think I just had a thought.”
“You think too much. Detectives? All of them? What does that ...?”
“Five people who have virtually no past? Five people with a uncanny ability to blend into the background so even a trained very observant person can’t remember exactly who said or did what?
“Judi, tell me something about Benton – I mean, besides his act. Nobody could actually be that totally insensitive.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you remember about him, other than that he was an ass. What did he ever do? What did he ever say? Did anyone ever have a real conversation with him that wasn’t some kind of bigoted rant?”
“I see! You tended to damp him out and think of more pleasant things when he was there. His voice was grating, too. It added to the effect. He was acting. They’re all acting. They’re damned good at it!”
“Jude, it’s your method, greatly refined. You gave them information you came up with without realizing you were doing anything other than make a remark or two to make them think you were listening. You weren’t. Lucia was there deliberately to learn what you’d heard about me and Sergio and whatever. What did you tell her?”
“Besides that you didn’t have a clue about ... so that was her using my method on me! She’s damned good at it!”
“You didn’t give her any information. You’re used to the method enough that you wouldn’t. Automatically.
“I wonder if she’s aware of that? If not, we can use it.
“Jude, we tackle this one from another angle. Time to use the airhead act a little – stress little – bit with them, Okay?”
She smirked. “So two can play that game. Let’s see who’s better at it!”
“A
nd don’t forget – if what we suspect about them is true they’re very professional killers.”
“Who make slips now and then.”
“Such as?”
“The method was bound to get attention. The follow-up was stupid. All they had to do was nothing and we wouldn’t have glommed onto them. That call to Sergio was just plain stupid.”
“I wonder about that. Be careful, Jude. That cut was excessive. There really was a lot of emotion behind it. It was a mistake that was followed by another that was more telling.”
She nodded.
They talked awhile about other things. Clint waited until she left to go through all his little traps. He would know if anyone had been in his house looking for anything.
No matter how professional. He knew some tricks himself. No one had been there. He set another few traps, made sure his comp didn’t have anything on it to show he’d been interested in them, put some things on that would indicate that he was looking into something else or in all the wrong places, then went to the police station. He’d put a little program on the comps several months ago to tell what information anyone was seeking in them and when. There was only one suspicious entry, but in an area that wouldn’t show more than a normal police check on identities.
So. They thought their cover was excellent to perfect.
Be honest! It was excellent, but not perfect. It wouldn’t show that he had them figured past a very minor point. He basically wanted to know what this was about and whether it was entirely CIA or in conjunction with some other agency. More than one made that likely. More than two made it very scary. It was definitely big. VERY big!
He went back to the ferry dock. Lando, another Indio kid about ten years old was there and ran to hug him and play the game. He got the quarter (Clint had substituted the second quarter behind his back) and ran to buy two icies, one for Clint. They chatted. Clint learned that the blah people actually asked some rather telling questions of the kids. Questions the kids never suspected were asked or answered. Questions about Benton, Clint and Judi. Questions about what the police asked them (nothing).
Clint explained that those people were trained to get information in ways you didn’t know you’d given any so be careful.
Lando said he’d warn all the kids. They’d act just like always, but the information would be different. Those half-gringos would learn that they were dealing with people with a lot more smarts than they’d let on. What information did Clint want them to get?
Clint grinned and told him it might be a good idea to let them know, in very small ways, that all the Indio kids had them figured.
“Be sure they know it’s all of you and not just one or two. They’re dangerous people. If it’s all of you they have to find a way that others won’t find out. One or two of you and you might end up like Benton.”
“I didn’t think about it, but the Benton-grouch was doing the same thing, wasn’t he?”
“I think so. I just don’t know why. I have to find which organizations sent them here. They are not the blah people they want everyone to think they are. Be very careful. If you have any doubts whatever don’t be around them at all or at any time.”
He nodded and looked serious a moment, then grinned. “So the street urchins figured them. They don’t give a shit and
won’t say anything if maybe they get a nice little handout now and again. Say a whole dollar instead of a dime.”
Clint grinned and ruffled his hair. He hugged Clint and went on his way. Those kids were more savvy than he was! They were already suspicious and would have figured it by themselves soon. Maybe it was good that Clint would have them let out that every damned one of them had the same thing figured. It wouldn’t do a bit of good to try to shut them up and shutting up one or two would lead to disaster.
Clint headed back home, thought, then stopped at the internet café. There might be a thing or two he could learn about this from another angle!
From Nowhere
None of them had a registered driver’s license anywhere he looked in the records. None of them ever owned a car. Only two had records of ever renting apartments and that because of deposits on the electricity and water in Macon, Georgia.
Lyle Friendly had a minor ticket for overtime parking in Richmond, Virginia. For a person who didn’t ever have a driver’s license?
“Richmond, Virginia” also told its own story. Veddy eenteresdink! There were a few holes in their covers, it seemed.
A check in Alister, Rhode Island, showed that he had a license there. The records showed that he was born at Mercy General in 1982 from the driver’s license application. The birth records had been lost in a fire in 1983! Wow!
If he had had the time he would have checked every state. He checked Panamá records and found he was supposed to have been born in Santiago in, Surprise!, 1982. Panamanian mother, gringo father. That was probably real. Rhode Island was as far as most would check.
Which one did Sergio have? He called. Sergio looked it up and said the Panamanian one – and what was going on?
“A whole lot more than we either one guess. Be very careful that no one knows we know anything more than that they’re here and are being looked at superficially because they seemed to have met with Benton a few times.” He agreed.
Now. How to find out what the hell this was about. Why a little tourist town in Bocas del Toro, Panamá? That would take some careful and discreet digging.
Clint thought and called Manny Mathews, a friend living on Isla San Cristobal who was actually Marko Bocinni, a major mafia character who had moved to Panamá to escape his past life and raise a family who wouldn’t be embarrassed by how pops made his. He helped Clint in a lot of his cases. He was in a unique position to get information. The word was out that he was living on a guarded private island in the Mediterranean.
He would try to find anything, but wasn’t in that end of information. He next called Manolo, an agent for several world police organizations who was undercover as a shady dealer in something-or-other. He didn’t have any information, though there were some small rumors about agents from England, France, Italy, Germany et al spotted in Panamá. There always were.
He waited until time for the last bus to return from Drago. They weren’t on it. The driver said they had booked one night at the hotel there. Rudolfo, the door boy on the bus, said they had met some bigshot on a yacht in the bay just inside of the island. They seemed to know each other. People were saying it was Jimmy Buffet’s yacht, but he knew that one from before and it wasn’t. He would have come to the marina like always, not anchored offshore like that.
Clint expected information about those five would be extremely hard to come by. He wasn’t disappointed so far. Not much he could do until they returned. He could figure on some way to get what he wanted when they were there. He called Judi and they went into town for the evening. Dinner at Nine Degrees, then the usual haunts. He didn’t learn anything more.
Clint waved to Judi from his hammock on his deck just at sunrise. He usually could be found there watching the display of colors over the water at sunrise. He waved to several of his friends going by on their way to work or to go out for fish or whatever. Arnie Carmody came to his deck at about six with two girls from France who wanted to go snorkeling and such. Would Clint like to come along? – and why didn’t he ever wear anything in the mornings?
Clint didn’t put on clothes until he decided what he was going to do for the day. Everyone knew it. The question was rhetorical and didn’t get a response except the two girls giggled and one, Annette, said it was refreshing to be in a place where they could be so free. Nicole agreed.
Clint went inside and put on a bathing suit, gathered a few things and joined them. They went out near the Zapatillas and Crawl Cay to spend a few hours relaxing and having a good time. He got back at about 4:45 to find three of his little traps sprung. Someone had been in the house. He called Judy, who explained she had the vigilante meeting and was gone from one until three so h
adn’t seen anything there. The five in question had returned to Bocas Town on the 1:00 bus so they were around.
Clint checked the e-mail and missed phone calls. Nothing new or different. He’d gotten two unanswered calls from the Hotel Olas number at 1:15 and 1:30. Checking to see if he was home, probably.
He checked the video-recorder expecting to find nothing. He found nothing. They would certainly know how to handle that kind of thing.
He cleaned up, shaved, had a cup of coffee and went into town on his bike. Three of the five were at the Toro Loco so he parked and went inside to have a Balboa and chat with friends a bit. It was early and not many were there so he quite naturally ended up talking with Lucia Aumond, Lyle Friendly and James Carter. They were doing the blah routine perfectly. He would have been entirely bored stiff with them in two minutes if he didn’t know it was an act. He did catch Friendly giving a short questioning look at Aumond in the mirror. That decided him!
“Oh, yeah, by the way, you don’t need to sneak around to find what’s on my comp. You can come in and check it out anytime I’m home. I ain’t stupid enough to have anything that means anything on it, so it’s mostly a waste of time,” he said conversationally. That got a shocked look from Aumond and a laugh from Friendly.
“How did you figure us?” he asked. “We didn’t think anyone would be able to connect the dots with us. It’s important that we know what to avoid.”
“Nobody is as totally, as the Indio kids said, blah as the bunch of you. They’re the ones who originally tumbled. They’re about ten times as sharp as people give them credit for being.”
He laughed again. The others just seemed very nervous.
“What do you think it’s about?” The question was one of interest, but casual.
“Oh, I don’t really give a hot diddly-damn,” Clint replied. “It gets out of hand when somebody gets killed. That was damned stupid and ‘way past professional.
“I do know how he could make you want to smack him one, but that’s a long way from knocking him off. That was one hell of a chop. Does the one who delivered it even remember doing it?”
