Never an Empire (27 page)

No, he thought, whatever else I want it isn't to go back to Manila and be the Bishop's secretary.

‘What is it you want me to do?'

‘We have a fine church, Father, and under the sanctuary there is a fine crypt. When they built the church they thought that many rich men and women would live here and need suitable tombs. Are all of those tombs filled, Father?'

‘No, you know they're not.'

‘Then no one will mind if we take one, will they?'

‘No, I suppose not.'

Maria stood up.

‘It's more than she deserves but she's dead now so we might as well let her rest in peace.'

Father Enrique stood up.

‘I will say a prayer for her.'

‘Yes, she will need lots of prayers. But first she has to be put to rest. Come, Father.'

Chapter Thirty-three

‘What do you mean, you don't know where she is? How can she have disappeared?'

The American was angry and the chief of police was nervous. Carmen had gone, no one knew where. She had been seen going into the priest's house and hadn't been seen coming out again. Unfortunately, after some questioning the man watching admitted he had left his post and had been away for almost an hour. It was dereliction of duty, dismissal, no question about it. But that didn't help the present situation.

‘I told you. The man wasn't there. She may have come out.'

‘And if she came out then the only place she might be is with that artist friend.'

‘She isn't. I had a man call and check. He has no idea where she is. He was expecting her but she never came.'

‘Then go and search the priest's place.'

‘With what reason?'

‘Any damn reason. Make up a reason.'

‘But he's our priest.'

‘I don't care if he's the pope. Get men into that house.'

The American was in a dangerous mood, the chief could see that. It was mid-afternoon but it was clear he had been drinking heavily. Under the tanned skin of his face there was a noticeable flush and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot. If he wasn't already drunk he was close and even when sober he was unpredictable. In his present state he might do anything. He was killing himself, that was certain, but before the drink finished him he might easily kill others.

‘Very well. I will see to it myself.'

The chief left. The American went back to the table, sat down, and drank from the glass beside the bottle.

‘Shit. Shit and damnation.'

He was so close, so very close. All he needed was that one message from the lieutenant that Sakay was ready to see Gomez. That was all. And now that alley cat Carmen had gone. But where? Not to the artist, unless he was lying, and why should he lie? That meant she had to be in the priest's house. He poured another drink and sat looking at it. It was killing him but it was doing it slowly, too damn slowly. What he needed was something quick and final, but not yet, not until this business with Sakay was over. All he needed was to know he was forgiven, that forgiveness of some sort was possible. Then he'd be ready.

The chief of police came to the priest's house accompanied by three men. He was embarrassed but determined. Father Enrique might be angry, even make a formal complaint to the bishop, but none of that was of any importance compared to what the American might do, so he had decided to let the consequences take care of themselves.

Maria answered the door.

The chief walked in, leading his men.

‘What are you doing?'

The chief ignored the voice behind him walked into the living room, and seeing the room was empty, shouted to Maria.

‘Where is the young woman who has been living here?'

Maria didn't answer, but walked past the men to the kitchen door which she opened and was about to go through when the chief shouted again. ‘Stop!'

Maria stopped, turned, and looked at him.

‘I don't know why you are here pushing your way in like bandits but I have food cooking on the stove and Father Enrique is due back at any moment. If you are going to question me about something it will have to wait until the meal is ready.'

She spoke calmly and stood just as calmly, waiting for the chief's response.

‘Never mind any meal. Where's the woman?'

‘Carmen?'

‘Yes.'

‘Not here.'

‘Then where did she go?'

‘Ask her. She left yesterday and I haven't seen her since. Look over the house if you don't believe me.' She turned her attention away from the chief to the three policemen who were standing woodenly waiting to be told what to do. They had no idea what this was about.

‘Come on then, if you're going to look then look, but don't touch anything, understand? This is our priest's house, the one who gave us the orphanage and the sewing school, remember? If you have an ounce of shame about what you're doing then you'll have the decency to get it over and get out before Father Enrique himself arrives.' The men looked in appeal to the chief. He was in command but their sympathies were entirely with Maria.

‘Get on with it, search every room.' The chief turned to Maria as the men left. ‘I thought you wanted to get on with your cooking?'

‘I do, but if you're looking for Carmen don't you want to look in the kitchen?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well get it over and done with and then get out of my way.' The chief walked past Maria into the kitchen. As she had said it was empty. The housekeeper went to the back door and opened it. ‘The garden?'

The chief went out and Maria waited in the doorway watching. It wasn't a big garden and, apart from a small patch of herbs and vegetables there were few other plants. And certainly nobody there. The chief came back in and Maria closed the door after him. Without speaking he took one more look round the kitchen then went back to the living room. He didn't close the door and Maria left it open. She returned to the stove and carried on with her cooking. It wasn't too long before she heard the chief's men return. One of them asked if they should look in the church. The chief must have said yes because all three of them trooped through the kitchen and headed across the garden to the priest's entrance. Maria carried on cooking but quietly said a prayer. If they hurried so as to avoid Father's return they might easily forget the crypt and even then she doubted they would disturb the tomb which was Carmen's last resting place. From the short time they took before they re-appeared and walked back through her kitchen avoiding her eyes she assumed that they hadn't remembered or hadn't bothered with the crypt. Her prayer of intercession turned to a prayer of thanksgiving. She hadn't been lying when she had told Father Enrique that she was willing to die for the General but that didn't mean she wouldn't do her best to avoid the extreme sacrifice if she could.

Chapter Thirty-four

Strangely enough the chief of police wasn't nervous when he re-visited the American in his hotel room. He expected him to take the news badly that there had been no sign of Carmen in Father Enrique's house and the American didn't disappoint him but he let the swearing pass and waited patiently. The chief was a frustrated artist and he had the artist's instincts for both method and imagination, these were made even more effective because he could also be patient as he was being now. In some other place where his talents might have been more usefully deployed he might have made an outstanding detective. He waited and let the alcohol-fuelled anger pass him by and when the American finally fell silent, glaring at him, he said what he had come to say.

‘Maria knows where Carmen is.'

‘What? I thought you said she didn't know, that Carmen left the house yesterday around lunch time?'

‘That is what she said not what I said, and not what I think.'

The American visibly changed. A moment ago he had been someone almost out of control, had let his anger blot out his mind. Now, suddenly, he was sober and in control again. The chief was impressed.

‘She was expecting us. We arrived, walked in, and behaved like bandits,' he smiled. ‘And instead of being angry or afraid she was calm, confident. She knew what we had come to do and she was ready to deal with it.'

‘She was prepared?'

‘Yes. She had her story ready.'

‘That Carmen had left the previous day?'

‘Yes.'

‘And even though you didn't believe her you let it go at that?'

‘Why not? If she intended to run away she would have gone, but she has stayed. We searched and, as I expected, found nothing, so we left. If I want to question her I know where she is and the house is watched.'

‘It was watched before.'

‘True but the man who left his post has lost his job and won't find another in San Juan, I've seen to that. I don't think there will be any repeat, do you?'

The American ignored the question. His brain was once again functioning; like Maria he was in control.

‘Carmen's gone but nowhere in San Juan that we know of?'

‘Correct.'

‘And the only person she was likely to go to, the artist, was expecting her but says she didn't turn up?' The chief nodded. ‘And we can believe him?'

‘I think we can.'

‘So do I. All of which means that Maria, with or without the help of the priest, has either put her somewhere or killed her and got rid of the body. Right?'

‘That's what I thought. They're both reasonable assumptions based on what we know and of the two I think the latter. Carmen didn't know that Maria was working for Sakay so if anything she said gave a hint of what she and her husband were up to then Maria might quite easily decide to act.'

‘And kill her.'

‘Yes.'

‘So somewhere there's a body.'

‘Yes.'

‘Where? Maria would need someone to help her move it and there's only the priest in the house to help.'

‘Only the priest.'

‘Even with both of them carrying the body they couldn't take it far: the garden, the church. Did your men search both?'

‘Yes, but not properly. There was nowhere to put a body in the garden and no sign of disturbed earth. I looked myself.'

‘And the church?'

‘I let my men look. They did it badly as I thought they would. They were embarrassed at what we were doing and wanted to be out before Father Enrique returned.'

‘So the body's in the church?'

‘Almost certainly: in the crypt. It's perfect for them: almost forgotten with empty tombs waiting to be used.'

The American sat down and smiled.

‘Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

‘I am a policeman, not a mind reader.'

‘No, and you don't need to be, not if you have any sort of brain. Go ahead, tell me why you didn't go and find the body.'

The chief shrugged. It was nice to be complimented on your work but he wasn't going to show it. He still didn't like nor trust this man, drunk or sober.

‘I assumed that with Carmen dead someone else would have to take her place. What would be the point of arresting the housekeeper and the priest and bringing out the body? Better perhaps to leave it where it was.'

The American laughed.

‘Absolutely, my friend, with a murder charge to hang over him and his housekeeper who better to take Carmen's place than our saintly parish priest?'

‘It would seem the logical, indeed the only possible course of action in the time available.'

‘Course of action. I like it. The most logical and only possible course of action.' The American fetched another tumbler and poured the chief a stiff measure of brandy. He then poured another into his own glass and sat down. ‘Here's to you, Chief, and to our new messenger, Father Enrique.'

Chapter Thirty-five

The evening meal was over. Maria had told Father Enrique as soon as he had come home of the police search, that it had yielded nothing and they were safe. He had eaten but with no great appetite and now Maria sat at the table with him.

‘I must make arrangements to slip away and try and get to the general. I have to assume that the house is watched so I must be careful. Tomorrow I will go to market as usual and when I'm there I'll visit a friend's house; I've often gone there so if I've been followed already it won't seem suspicious. From there I'll slip out the back door and set off.'

‘Will your friend want to know what you're doing?'

‘She knows I work for the general, so she won't say anything if they come and ask, only that we sat and talked for a while, drank coffee, then I left through the back door. And if they come here asking questions then you know nothing. Carmen left as I said, that's all you know. I told you about the police searching the house and that they found nothing. I leave to you whether you make a complaint about it. Say you saw me before you went to morning Mass and when you came back you had your breakfast and then carried on with your usual day. That much will all be true. All you know after that is that I wasn't here at lunch time and there was no meal. If they haven't come and questioned you by dinner time go and report to the police that I'm gone and you're worried. You know nothing but after the disappearance of Carmen you're worried about me as well. Understand?'

Father Enrique nodded. He had listened with a growing sense of fear and confusion. What was he doing? He was completely adrift, entirely in the hands of other people. He was a priest in name only, his masses were only the words and actions and meant no more to him that washing, walking, eating or drinking, or any other routine activity which was done without thinking because it had to be done. Everything he did as a priest was empty and false. A new reality had swallowed him; this awful conspiracy, it had robbed him of his free will, his conscience, the ability to think and make choices. Was his state sinful? He couldn't even decide that. Any act committed without free will could not be a sin. Sin had to be chosen, if not freely then willingly and he had never willingly joined in this unreal chaos. It had swallowed him … He realised that he had stopped listening to Maria and she was now trying to make him hear.