Clint Faraday Mysteries Collection B :This Job is Murder Collector's Edition (34 page)

“
It always seems to happen. We do what
we can to try to help our fellow man to survive with a little
self-respect.

“
That is the whole thing, you see. No
one has self-respect anymore, thus no one respects them. It is a
circular trap that few can escape.

“
Clint, I fear it is mostly the result
of terrible overpopulation. There is less and less to be spread
among more and more people. I believe the people here have found a
workable solution. They refuse to fall into the trap of things and
greed. The Bible was correct when written, `Go ye forth and
multiply.’ That certainly does not hold to the reality of what the
world has become. It becomes a basis for one of my concerns as to
what is true and what is not in the Bible.”

They walked back toward the carretera. Clint
listened to him. He still didn’t let the possibility Emanuel had
killed someone hold any credence.

That meant Roberto and Willie? Were they
afraid Emanuel had carried some kind of message to the dead woman
or had learned something from her? Were they looking for him to
shut him up?

They were waiting for the bus back to
Chiriqui Grande. Clint decided to tell Emanuel about the two
agents. Emanuel honestly seemed totally confused. He thought the
idea he was a terrorist or thief was purely and plainly ludicrous.
The Bible made it very plain that the fate of such was eternal
damnation.

He asked Clint if he ever heard of some place
called The Tablets, near the Pacific.

“
Los Quadernos? No.”

“
It sounded like that to me. I’ll have
to find out where they meant. I’m sure – Tables, maybe?”

“
Las Tablas?”

“
Yes, I think so.”

“
It’s near Chitre on the Pacific.
That’s where Rincón is?”

“
Well, the girl said he often stayed at
his place there. She never knew exactly where he would be at any
given time. He tends to move around constantly. It’s probably a
waste of time to go where he may or may not be. I’ll have to find
another project I suppose.”

The bus to David came and he boarded. Clint
waited for the one to Changuinola and headed home.

“
Hi, Clint! Learn anything?” Judi
called.

“
Nothing new. I think they think he
knows something and want to shut him up.”

She waved and went inside. Clint went inside
his own place and called Fredrico to ask if anything new had come
up while he was out. Nothing of any real importance.

“
Any word of anything strange in Rio
Uyama or Valle de Aguas?”

“
Strange? Not for the area. A fight
that two people cut each up a little, but not too serious. A girl
died of snakebite in Rio Uyama. Back on a ranch away from the
village. No medical close.”

“
The Rincón ranch?” Clint asked,
perking up.

“
No. Castillo ranch.”

Clint chatted a minute, then hung up. If it
had been Rincón’s place he would have had a very bad feeling about
things.

He went into Bocas Town and met a girl from
Copenhagen who wanted a little fun on her vacation, but couldn’t
communicate with the locals very well. She spent the night with
him, no promises or strings. It was a great night.

When Clint was up and about in the morning he
made a few calls to find out what he could about the girl who died
of snakebite. For some reason it wouldn’t get off his mind.

Not much. She was a local girl who had a bit
of a reputation as a part-time prostitute and a petty thief. She
worked at times for all the big landowners. They had ways to keep
her in check, she knew it, so she didn’t take things from them.

Clint couldn’t see any reason anyone would
want her dead. It was probably just a snakebite.

He thought a bit about it and called
Frederico to ask what he knew about Rincón. Other than that he
wasn’t popular, not much.

“
He has a place in Las
Tablas?”

“
I can find out. I’ll have them call
you and you can ask what you like.”

Half an hour later a man called from Las
Tablas and said that Rincón had a large place out near the ocean.
He wasn’t popular there and stayed to himself. Clint thanked him
and went into town where he ran into Willie and Roberto. They said
they had traced Emanuel to Bocas Town, they thought, but he wasn’t
there.

“
Oh, I saw him on his way back to
Chiriqui Grande or on to David. He thinks this area is too
primitive for his tastes or something.”

“
When?!”

“
Late yesterday. I was visiting some
friends in Miramar and he came by to wait on the bus at the casita
there.”

They seemed anxious to leave so Clint waved
and went on to chat with a few friends in various places. Willie
and Roberto almost ran to the water taxi to Almirante. It seemed
they had a sudden need to go to David. Strange.

About eleven Clint got a call. It was
Roberto. He said he was in David and that Emanuel had caught a bus
for Santiago. Did Clint have any idea where he was headed?

“
Probably going to stay in Santiago a
day and head back to Panamá City. The country scene wasn’t much to
his liking.”

Roberto hung up suddenly. Clint smirked. He
could picture the wild drive to Santiago this time of night. Would
they be able to find if he went to Las Tablas? DID he go to Las
Tablas?

Clint forgot it and went home.

Las Tablas

“
Mr. Faraday? I am Evelina Donatti, a
friend of a friend. I was asked to call you by some strange
preacher or something.

“
I’m in Las Tablas. He says you will
know who he is and I am to tell you `They’re here. What is
happening?’ He is afraid they are thugs. That is all.”

Clint sighed. How did he get caught up in
this kind of thing? What was he supposed to do about it?

“
Thanks,” he replied. She rung
off.

Screw it. Clint and Ben went fishing. When he
got back home he had another voice mail. Julio Estevez, a friend in
the national police serving a term in Chitre said to please call
him.

Clint called. It seemed they had a body, a
man named Rincón. Clint had asked about him?

“
Just curious about some of the things
I heard. It seems he wasn’t much liked anywhere around here. What
happened?”

“
We aren’t sure. He seems to have been
hit by a car and was found laying on the road. It is suspicious
because he was not the kind ever to be walking along the road
there. He drove his fancy car everywhere he went.”

“
Maybe he just had car trouble,” Clint
said. “Where’s his car?”

“
We will, of course, determine that.
Perhaps that is what happened.”

Clint hung up. He was really curious now.

What the hell? He hadn’t seen much of Las
Tablas. It was supposed to be a great area. He’d go. He called Judi
and said he was going to Chitre and Las Tablas. Want to come
along?

She wanted to, but had some projects she
couldn’t put on hold right now.

He packed a few things – he always traveled
light – and headed for Changuinola. He’d rather take the bus, but
this was too far. He got a flight to Santiago with a change at
David airport from Changuinola. He managed to get there at a little
after four so took a bus to Chitre. It was a little after 9:30 when
he reached Chitre so he stayed the night there and went to Las
Tablas on the early bus. It didn’t take long to find Willie and
Roberto. They were at the hotel restaurant trying to find where
Emanuel had gone. They spotted him when he walked in a demanded to
know why he was there.

“
Go fuck yourselves!” he said easily.
“I don’t answer to you for where I go anywhere or why. Get out of
my face!”

“
I’m sorry!” Willie cried. “We went
about that the wrong way. We’re so used to no one ever answering
questions ... we’re half crazy! We can’t let that character get
away!”

“
Try a little tranquilidad. Just say
hello and what are you here for? The fiesta? You’ll get answers.
Make demands and people react to you the way they’ve always seen
you. Two big bad government assholes.”

“
Can we talk?” Roberto asked. “This is
getting out of hand all the way around.”

Clint shrugged and went to their table to
order huevos revueltos and hojaldres with lots of coffee.

“
We’re not government,” Willie finally
said.

“
That was obvious from the first time I
saw you. I just waited to see if you’d tell me what’s going on and
why you’re after some pious religious nutcase.”

“
We say we’re government so people will
give us information.” Roberto said. “They see though us from the
get-go. Why? How?”

“
You don’t dress like government.
That’s the states where anybody in government can wear two hundred
dollar suits and expensive jewelry. Your shoes cost what a
government official here makes in about a month and a
half.

“
What are you? CIA with a lot of stupid
TV training? Watch how Hollywood portrays you and think anybody
anywhere is idiot enough to swallow that crap?

“
To these people that crap is more a
comedy show than any picture of reality.

“
Come on! An armored truck goes up a
ramp and hits a helicopter, then there’s an explosion that makes
Bikini look like a firecracker?”

“
We’re not CIA. We do some work with
them. We actually work with Interpol,” Willie replied. “I agree
about the movies. Unbelievable crap!”

“
You know I have my sources where I can
verify that in about ten seconds?”

“
We work
with
Interpol, not
for
them,” Roberto protested. “Willie takes the
government man act too far. It won’t fly with you.”

“
So? What’s the crap about Emanuel the
Holy or whatever?”

“
We’ve been trying to figure that out,”
Roberto answered. “It seems that everywhere he goes people end up
dead. They’re usually the worst kind of garbage, it’s true. No loss
– but we want to know how he does it and gets away with it so
easily. The Interpol thing is because too many of the ones who end
up dead are collectors of art and so forth who have a number of
items that are, shall we say, not very well certified as to their
source. Too often they’re stuff stolen in Europe.

“
Did you know Rincón was under
suspicion of having a Rembrandt that disappeared from a Stropshire
collection fifteen years ago? I’d bet a bundle that we’ll find it
when we search his house. He also had a Monet, but we think he sold
that one already to some Panamanian collector.

“
That information was from a person who
had business in his home here. She recognized the
paintings.

“
Emanuel the Great comes to town,
Rincón has an accident ... you see what I mean? This is number
six.”

“
The lovely Clementine in Chiriqui
Grande?”

“
A Goya and a Matisse that may be
authentic or may not. If it’s a copy it’s a damned good one.”
Willie replied. “This is actually number seven because of
that.”

“
He doesn’t steal the stuff himself!”
Roberto cried. “He leaves it there for us to find! What the HELL is
he up to!? Why?!”

“
Shhh!” Willie hissed. “You’re getting
loud.”

He looked around. People were staring. He
looked apologetic.

Clint took out his phone and called a friend,
Manolo, who was an Interpol agent under cover as a drug supply
contact. When he answered Clint said, “Rincón et al.”

“
Willie and Roberto there?”

“
Uh-huh.”

“
They’re a trip! Living in some fantasy
world. Probably legit. Found three pieces here so far. Four, if
what I heard last night’s up. I’m waiting for information on
another one, but won’t know until there’s an excuse to go into the
house.”

“
Four.”

“
They follow some nut around. He finds
the stuff, I think. They’re there for the rewards. Got a
bundle.”

“
Authorized?”

“
Yes and no. Used and tolerated to
whatever extent seems advisable.”

“
Thanks.”

“
Al la orden.”

Clint hung up and sat back. “Fair enough. I
don’t think Emanuel is a killer. I just can’t see it.”

Willie nodded and said, “But seven ain’t no
coincidence.”

“
There is that. I’ll see what I can
find. I want a couple of answers.”

He looked around the restaurant, shrugged and
said, “I’ll be in contact, probably.”

He gulped down the last of his coffee and got
up to go outside. He saw someone who shouldn’t be there.

Maybe those two characters weren’t the only
ones following Emanuel around – but to what end? What was there
about this one that Clint recognized? He looked like a normal
Panamanian with a Latin parent and a gringo or European parent.
There were a lot of the mix around. Why did Clint feel there was
something about him that meant he shouldn’t be there? So far as he
could tell, he’d never seen him before.

Clint studied him a moment before he went to
where he could be seen. Even from fifty feet away the bright blue
eyes stood out. This one was very good with disguises. If Clint
hadn’t seen those eyes on the bus he wouldn’t have known it was the
same person.