Brazil (17 page)

‘This is what we do,’ he snarled. ‘We fight, we kill, we die. We are the Comando Negro – we don’t show any weakness. There is no end. There is no way out. You understand me?’

As Livio nodded, the rage in Angel’s eyes dimmed.

‘We gotta stay together, Livio,’ he said softly. ‘You and me, Joker, Luiz. We’re all brothers, man.’ He glanced at Luiz. ‘Right?’

‘Right,’ Luiz agreed, feeling sick even as he did so.

The
dono
picked up his Remington. ‘Grab some beers from the fridge and come with me,’ he ordered.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Livio.

Angel smiled.

‘First, we’re going to find my brother and drag him away from whichever girl he’s annoying now. Then we’re getting reinforcements.’

Two hours later and Angel halted a pickup truck outside a warehouse in a quiet district to the east of Rio. He carefully scanned the area before getting out from the vehicle.

‘Keep your eyes peeled,’ he said crisply. ‘I phoned ahead so we’re expected, but if you see anything moving I want to know about it.’

The
dono
seemed even more watchful than ever. Luiz wondered where they were, whether or not they were trespassing in another gang’s territory. As they moved warily towards the warehouse door, he saw that someone had drawn a bullet on the wall in blue spray-paint. Underneath the bullet were the words Comando Azul. Luiz tapped Joker on the arm.

‘Comando Azul? Which gang is that? I’ve never heard of them.’

Joker snorted. ‘They usually go by another name. Cops.’

Luiz stared at the graffiti tag in astonishment. The police had marked their territory – just like the gangs they fought against.

‘Don’t know why you’re looking so surprised,’ Joker said. ‘Everyone knows all the cops in Rio are bent. My brother once told me that, when he ran with the Compadres, their
dono
was kidnapped by the police and held for ransom. It cost them thousands to get him back. Jesus, Luiz, if they weren’t crooked, why the hell would they be here?’

Angel rapped on the metal door. It opened a crack, revealing a middle-aged man with a tanned skin and a thick moustache. He was dressed in a police uniform.

‘You Angel?’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ the
dono
replied. ‘The Doctor spoke to you?’

The policeman nodded, then gestured for the Comando Negro to enter the warehouse. Luiz brought up the rear, unsure of what lay in store inside. The answer, he discovered as he walked into the dimly lit space, could be summed up in one word.

Guns.

Everywhere he looked, there were guns. Handguns, assault rifles, shotguns, stacked up against the walls and the shelves, reaching all the way up to the ceiling. Some had simply been tossed on top of one another, creating giant metal pyres of firearms. From gleaming new machineguns to what looked like antique pistols, there had to be tens of thousands of weapons here.

‘You picked a good time to come and see us,’ the policeman said, in a conversational tone of voice. ‘We raided an Angolan ship off the coast the other day and found a small arsenal on board. Hand grenades, bombs, landmines – some real heavy-duty shit. Help yourself.’

Immediately the Comando Negro scattered among the aisles, diving into piles of guns as though they were kids in a toyshop. As he followed them around, Luiz couldn’t help but think of Juan Oliveira. The
favela-
dwelling cop seemed such a good guy. What would he say if he could see this? Did he know cops who sold gangs guns? Did he do it too?

‘Holy shit!’

He looked up to see Livio balancing a rocket launcher on his shoulder.

‘Put that down, Livio,’ Angel shouted from across the warehouse. ‘You’re making me nervous just touching that thing.’

Reluctantly, the MC put the rocket launcher back. As the gang went about selecting their weapons, the policeman saw Luiz eyeing a row of pistols. He picked up a small handgun and passed it to him.

‘Check this one out. It’s a Sig Sauer 226. German-manufactured, so you know it’s going to be a reliable piece.’

The cop smiled encouragingly, as though he was selling shoes or sweets.

Luiz looked down the sight and checked the balance of the weapon.

‘Seems OK,’ he said, unsure of how to respond. ‘I’ll take it.’

Luiz stuck the Sig Sauer into the waistband of his shorts with a heavy heart. Finally, he had a gun, and it was looking more likely with each second that he was going to have to use it.

‘This is the greatest place ever!’ Joker called out. He was carrying an assault rifle in each hand, his face wreathed in a broad smile. ‘No one’s going to mess with us now!’

‘That’s not what I’ve heard,’ the policeman replied.

Angel looked up sharply.

‘What do you mean?’

‘That windbag Cruz from the council has finally persuaded the police chiefs that your little gang needs putting out of business. Expect a visit from CORE soon.’

The temperature in the warehouse seemed to drop a couple of degrees. Even if Luiz hadn’t heard of CORE – Rio’s elite police SWAT unit – the sudden pensive looks on the faces of the Comando Negro would have told him all he needed to know.

Angel spat on the floor, breaking the grim silence.

‘Thanks for the warning.’ The
dono
tossed the policeman two wads of notes bound together with elastic bands.

‘Hey, all part of the service,’ the man replied, counting through the notes. ‘Come round whenever you feel like it.’

Luiz waited until they had left the warehouse and were crossing the concrete back to the pickup truck before grabbing Livio.

‘CORE are coming? That means trouble, right?’

The MC’s face was grim.

‘You have no idea,’ he said.

21. Cruz Control

In the centre of Rio, Cinelândia square was the bustling heartbeat of the city’s urban life. Removed from the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema – and the sun-worshippers who lazed upon their sands – here the streets were thronged with businessmen and professionals. The towering skyscrapers obscured everything but the distinctive hump of
Pão de Açúcar
– Sugarloaf Mountain. From the middle of Cinelândia square, grand buildings were visible in every direction: the Municipal Theatre, the Brazilian National Library – and the council meeting hall.

Given the number of rallies and demonstrations that took place in the square, on any particular day it wasn’t unusual to see politicians making public speeches there. That morning, Councillor Jorge Cruz had taken up a position on the steps of the council hall and was in the middle of a thunderous denunciation of the
favela
gangs. At the back of the massed ranks of bored reporters and casual bystanders, a teenage boy was watching Cruz speak. Luiz had been waiting in the square for this moment since dawn, his heart pounding and the gun’s cold metal pressing against his skin with a horrible insistence.

After the Comando Negro’s jubilation inside the police warehouse, the policeman’s parting warning had dampened the mood on the journey home. As Angel drove the pickup truck silently back to Santa Marta, Livio leaned over towards Luiz and asked in a low whisper, ‘Have you seen CORE raid a
favela
before?’

Luiz shook his head.

‘Count yourself lucky. They’re mean bastards. They come in all guns blazing and they shoot to kill.’

‘Double the lookouts at the
boca
,’ Angel said from the driver’s seat. ‘We’ll see them coming. If they want a fire-fight, they’ll get one. They don’t know Santa Marta like we do.’

But for all the
dono
’s defiant words, there was an under-current of uncertainty in Angel’s voice. What with the Compadres, Quarto Comando and now CORE circling around Santa Marta, it was impossible to escape the feeling of a trap closing around them. It was at that moment that Luiz had realized what he had to do. He had to find the Doctor before the Comando Negro came under attack – which meant he had to find Councillor Jorge Cruz.

The next morning he had risen before the sun, slipping out past the
boca
and down into the city. He headed straight for Cinelândia – an area his parents had spent a great deal of time in, especially during their own investigations into Councillor Cruz. Now Luiz was following in their footsteps, only he was armed. If he had to threaten Cruz to get the truth out of him, then he would do so.

The crowd burst into applause as Cruz’s speech came to its resounding conclusion. The councillor waved, before moving back towards the council hall’s entrance. Making to go after him, Luiz was suddenly aware of a hand on his arm.

‘Excuse me, son?’

A man was looking down at him. Although he was dressed casually, an earpiece wire was curling down the back of his neck and his free hand was resting on a bulky shape inside his jacket.

‘Sorry,’ Luiz muttered hurriedly. ‘Gotta run.’

The man didn’t let go. He smiled. ‘What’s the rush?’

Luiz made to break away.

‘Look out – he’s armed!’ a voice cried out.

A woman next to Luiz screamed loudly and turned to flee. Before he could follow suit, a burly arm snaked around Luiz’s neck, grabbing it in a sleeper hold. Caught off guard, Luiz flailed his arms in an attempt to free himself, but the man’s grip was as tight as a vice. Black spots began to appear in front of Luiz’s eyes. The last thing he saw before he passed out was a scrum of men descending upon him.

When he came to, he found himself lying down in a cramped space, his knees tucked up underneath his chin. There was a blindfold over his eyes and his hands were cuffed behind his back. His gun was gone. A loud sound was growling very close to his head – groggily, Luiz realized it was an engine. He was in the boot of a car. Trapped, there was nothing he could do but wait, and try to fight the tide of panic rising within him.

After about half an hour, the car slowed. He heard the sound of an electronic beeping and then the car purred up a gravel driveway. As the boot was popped open, strong hands hauled Luiz to his feet. Still blindfolded, he was pushed along the driveway, his feet crunching on the gravel. Luiz heard a latch click open and his feet felt smooth paving stones beneath them. Somewhere in the distance, waves were crashing against the shoreline.

Luiz was pushed abruptly down into a seat, his hands still cuffed impotently behind his back. The blindfold was torn from his eyes, exposing a world of piercing bright sunlight. He looked around, blinking.

He was sitting at a poolside table at the rear of a luxurious, two-storey villa. Over his shoulder, a deserted strip of beach ran down to the foaming breakers at the water’s edge. Luiz didn’t recognize the coastline, couldn’t even be sure whether he was still in Rio. He was aware that a man was standing behind him: the bodyguard with the earpiece from the square. On the other side of the pool, a woman in a tiny blue bikini was stretched out on a towel, tinny music blaring from her headphones. But it was the person sitting opposite Luiz who grabbed his attention.

Across the table, Councillor Jorge Cruz was hungrily attacking a plate of pork ribs, his mouth ringed with sauce. Having changed out of his suit, he was now clad in a pair of khaki shorts and a Lacoste polo shirt, which was stained with sweat not only under the armpits but also beneath a sizeable pair of man-breasts. Cruz ate noisily, tearing the meat from the bone with his teeth like a dog. With a sinking heart, Luiz saw that his Sig Sauer 226 was lying on the table next to the councillor.

Luiz sat in silence until the councillor pushed his plate away, finally sated. Cruz took a deep gulp from a glass of cold beer and then asked casually, ‘So who sent you?’

‘What?’ said Luiz, confused.

The councillor made a signal and Luiz received a ringing blow to the back of the head from the bodyguard behind him. He rocked forward in his seat, feeling nauseous from the pain. Cruz gave him a hard look.

‘We’ll try that again. Who sent you?’

‘No one sent me, I swear!’ Luiz shouted. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

Cruz sighed and nodded again at his bodyguard. Another thundering blow landed on the back of Luiz’s head. Thankfully, he was still feeling numb from the first blow, though even that fact couldn’t entirely deaden the sting.

‘Carlos can do this all day, you know,’ Cruz continued. ‘He doesn’t tire easily.’

‘But I’m telling you the truth!’ Luiz protested.

Cruz shook his head. ‘You kids. You’re all as dumb as each other. Do you know how many death threats I’ve received? Did you think you could just turn up to one of my speeches with a gun stuffed into your shorts and no one would notice?’ He pointedly tapped Luiz’s Sig Sauer. ‘Didn’t you realize that my men are always looking out for little sewer rats like you who want to take potshots at me?’

Seeing the stubborn look on Luiz’s face, Cruz glanced up at his bodyguard.

‘I think you can remove the handcuffs, Carlos. If the little rat tries anything, shoot him in the back of the head.’

The man behind Luiz reached down and brusquely unlocked the handcuffs. With his hands freed, Luiz gingerly massaged the back of his head and neck, surreptitiously taking hold of his GPS crucifix and pressing the ends of the horizontal beam together. Richard Madison had always sworn that Trojan could track down the distress signal no matter where it was sent from. Luiz offered up a silent prayer that the Brit had been telling the truth.

‘You can’t hurt me,’ he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. ‘As soon as you turn me over to the police I’m going to tell them all about you.’

‘Really?’ Cruz raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘And what
exactly
are you going to say?’

‘I’ll tell them I know exactly who you are!’ Luiz blurted out. ‘You’re the Doctor!’

Cruz paused for a second, then burst into laughter.

‘
I’m
the Doctor? You stupid kid!’

‘Don’t try and deny it,’ Luiz said fiercely. ‘You met Angel in the Casa Bahia – I saw you!’

Cruz wiped his sticky fingers on a napkin before tossing it to one side. ‘You might well have seen me in the Casa Bahia, but I wasn’t meeting that hoodlum.’