Luc: A Spy Thriller (3 page)

I strolled into the windowless bathroom and pulled the cord and the gloom was replaced by sparkling light.

Brushing my teeth, I noticed a dark patch from the corner of my eye and lazily glanced over. A second later I had frozen, before jackknifing backwards and almost falling into the bath. A massive spider clung insolently to the wall, up in the corner of the room. By massive, I mean it was the size of a Volvo. I finished cleaning my teeth in the bedroom, only creeping back in to quietly wash my mouth out and gently replace the toothbrush in the glass holder. Do not like the things.

I dressed in navy linen shirt, light chinos and blue plimsolls and went downstairs and out into the street. It was seven in the morning and the mercury was already rising.

I walked across the road and down the street. People were up ladders, taking down some sort of bunting or decoration that had been strung across the street. Must’ve been some festival that I wasn’t aware of. I went inside a hut painted azure blue. It was a cafe, supposedly a good one. According to Jules at my hotel it was run by a woman named Audrey. He went on to say Audrey was a large pear-shaped lady, whose cheerfulness could easily slip into verbal abuse and back again before you’d even been aware what was happening. The food was top-notch though.

The aroma as I stepped through the corrugated iron door intensified my anticipation for the meal ahead. They seemed not to skimp on the spices and juices in this place.

I’d ordered some johnnycakes - a small baked bread made with flour and coconut milk - scrambled eggs, beans and bacon. I also had black coffee, and something from the homeland - toast and marmalade. For me there’s no breakfast without toast and marmalade. The food was delicious.

Audrey wasn’t there, so at least I wasn’t getting shouted at.

The man behind the bar reached under the counter and picked up something and pointed it at the TV that was on the far wall. I realised he was turning the volume up and I glanced across at the screen. It was a news report. A group of a dozen tourists had been kidnapped by masked men at Xunantunichone, on the west of Belize, possibly the best known of the ancient Mayan sites. Gunfire was heard, but no reports of any casualties. I raised an eyebrow. That was all Belize needed.

Back outside, the heat had risen further and the bunting now lay on the road.

I crossed the street and stepped back into the hotel. I greeted Jules, who was behind the desk, and he stopped me and informed me I had a visitor. I raised my eyebrows, thinking it might be Steenhoek come to air his grievances with me. Or indeed Grace, come to continue the thumping where she’d left off.

But it was neither. Jules pointed to a young woman sitting on a sofa in the lobby. I walked across.

‘You wanted to speak to me?’ I asked.

She looked up. Then she stood. ‘Yes,’ she said, and I recognised her as the girl who had been cleaning the tables in the Barracuda Eye bar in Crooked Tree. I thought she looked a little nervous.

‘I can’t talk long, I have to go to work,’ she said. She saw Jules looking over.

I nodded. ‘Let’s take a walk.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

The streets were bustling now, alive.

‘It’s Hayley, isn’t?’ I said. She was about twenty and dressed in blue cutaway jeans and an orange T-shirt. She held a dark green rucksack over her left shoulder.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Hayley, I’m Philip.’

‘I know.’

‘Right. What did you want to speak to me about, Hayley?’

She still looked nervous as we walked, rubbing her forearm and glancing around her.

‘Yesterday, when you came to the bar, you asked about the dead man,’ she said. I nodded. ‘I said I hadn’t seen anything.’ She paused. We passed a man with dreadlocks and two gold earrings, setting up his easel and paints outside a cafe. Two large women in colourful dresses shouted to each other from opposite sides of the street as loud punta rock came from a booming speaker in one of the shops.

‘My boss,’ Hayley continued, ‘doesn’t think we should get involved. Thinks it’s gangs, and we’re better off keeping quiet. But you said he was your friend…’

‘That’s right,’ I said.

She took a while in speaking again. I didn’t press her, hurry her, this had to be her decision.

‘I did see something,’ she finally said. ‘Not the body. I didn’t see that.’

As if on cue we heard the siren of an ambulance and the crowd in the road, including us, dissipated out of its way and the large white van with BERT - the country’s emergency response team - in large letters on the side hurried through. Hayley seemed oblivious as we stepped back onto the opposite kerb, out of its path.

‘I was telling the truth about that,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see them dump the body.’ The siren faded in the distance.

‘What did you see?’ I asked her.

‘Well, I was outside, round the side of the bar, putting some rubbish in the bins. I heard a vehicle sort of screeching to a halt. Then there was another noise I couldn’t make out. Then a door slammed and the vehicle sped a way. I saw it as it passed the bar.’

‘What vehicle was it?’

‘It was a Ford 4x4. I recognised the logo. The thing is, I’m pretty sure it had foreign licence plates. They didn’t look Belizean.’

‘Foreign plates?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would you know which country they were from?’

‘No. I’m sorry. There was a picture of a temple on them though.’

‘You did the right thing in telling me this, Hayley. Thank you.’

She looked up at me and smiled. The smile was wide and beautiful and the effect on her face was wonderful. She should smile more. Perhaps we all should.

‘What time do you have to be in work?’ I asked.

She looked at her plastic lime green watch. ‘I’ve got about an hour. The return bus leaves at ten.’

‘Then you’ve got time for a drink.’

He eyes flashed back to me. ‘Oh, no, I…’ She looked a little bashful.

‘I’ve just had breakfast. But I could do with a juice. Besides, I need to thank you for taking the time to see me. And for telling me what you did.’

She smiled again. She was certainly a good looking woman when life allowed.

‘Okay,’ she said.

***

There was a tubby man sitting next to me. His paperwork was untidily spread out before him. His plate of conch burger, wedges and coleslaw, which he occasionally reached for, was pushed right over next to me. One onion ring draped itself perilously close to my computer.

I tried to ignore him, and the munching sounds, and the aroma of someone else’s food, and concentrated on getting the information I wanted.

I was in an Internet cafe, its wooden exterior painted pistachio green and yellow. The shy and cute Hayley had left about ten minutes ago to catch her bus and I had decided to jump on one of their computers. I was looking at images of licence plates from around the world. I looked at Google Images, then at a specific website. I searched for plates with temples on. Results for four countries. I got a picture of each plate onto one single sheet and then printed out a colour copy.

I left tubby man and got back in the Suzuki.

***

Augustin eyed me suspiciously as I walked back into his bar. There were a lot more people in now, and it was stifling. The fan whirred lazily, the only source of cool air in here. Amazingly, Augustin had a hat on today.

‘The man is back,’ the barman grinned. ‘He’s on elastic. You come for that beer?’

I nodded. ‘Yes I have. How’s Jaspar doing?’

‘No idea.’ He pulled a pint glass from a shelf.

‘There seems to be a lot you don’t know.’

‘How I live my life, man. Works for me.’

‘I’ll be in the corner.’

‘Lovely. Well when you’ve finished being in the corner your beer will be on the bar.’

I smiled. ‘I might just stand and wait then.’

‘Good ideas.’

He brought me my beer and then said, ‘Gotta crack a new crate. Don’t hassle my customers.’ He waved a finger around the room.

‘Wouldn’t dream.’

He disappeared out the back and Hayley, who was amending the chalked menu outside, came in to take his place behind the bar. Before she did I beckoned her over.

‘Hayley.’ I handed her the sheet with the licence plates with differing temples. ‘Take a look at these plates. Anything you recognise from the other day? The temples?’

Hayley looked nervously round and then peered closely at the sheet. She looked for a good twenty seconds.

‘That one,’ she said, pointing to the third picture down.

‘Are you sure?’

‘That’s definitely the one. I recognise the peak and the colours.’

The Tikal Temple.

I nodded. ‘Thank you, Hayley.’

She smiled and then continued round to the bar. A short while later Augustin returned and carefully dropped a wooden, clinking crate down behind the bar.

‘So Hayls,’ he said, standing back up, ‘time for a drop, no?’

‘Okay,’ Hayley said cheerfully.

‘Get yourself a glass, girl.’

I smiled. And then looked back at the picture of the licence plate that Hayley had picked out.

Guatemala.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Guatemala borders Belize on the west. It’s not a perfect relationship. Guatemala disputes Belize’s sovereignty. When Belize (as British Honduras) gained its sovereignty from Britain in 1981, Guatemala insisted again the territory was theirs. And it continues to dispute the sovereignty. There have, though, been confidence building measures between the two nations and relations have improved, even to the extent of one of those road maps to peace.

However, in recent months there have been isolated flare ups. People have been shot on the border and tensions between the two countries has increased.

And now apparently this with Wilson…

I followed the nurse down the corridor.

When the thug standing by the door saw me he turned, his eyes widening, his hand going inside his jacket.

‘This man would like to speak to Mr Steenhoek. May I leave him with you?’ the nurse said to the thug, and left to go about her duties.

I looked at the thug and raised my hands. ‘I’m taking the proverbial, I appreciate that,’ I said.

He didn’t take the gun out, just left his hand inside the jacket, a warning to me. It was the thug that had been on the terrace yesterday. There was bruising on his face. Probably why he was looking at me as if he wanted to do me some harm. He didn’t speak.

‘I don’t come empty handed,’ I said. I raised my right thumb and forefinger. In between the two, a small rock-hard substance sparkled. A diamond.

‘I’ve got a bagful of the stuff. I think Mr Steenhoek would want to know.’

Or he would want to shoot me on the spot. One of the two.

The thug stopped staring at me. He turned and went inside the room.

***

‘Mr Steenhoek,’ the thug said, ‘there is someone who wants to see you.’

Steenhoek was sitting up in bed. He was wearing blue silk pyjamas. I had wondered if his leg would be suspended from the ceiling, like in old comedy films, but it wasn’t. It was tucked under the blankets with the other. Unless it was in the drawer, difficult to be certain.

‘Bloody hell, well haven’t you got a nerve,’ Steenhoek said, seeing me stroll into the room. There was the tangy odour of some sort of antiseptic solution in the room.

‘Hello, Mr Steenhoek. How is the knee, by the way?’ I asked.

‘There is no knee,’ Steenhoek replied. ‘It’s a collection of loose fragments of bone rattling around in there.’

I nodded. ‘You know, I am sorry about that.’

‘I’ll be having a ceramic replacement.’

‘Oh well,’ I said. ‘That’s something, isn’t it.’

‘He’s brought this,’ the thug chimed in, holding up the diamond. ‘He says he has more.’

Steenhoek looked at me and then the diamond. ‘Close the door,’ he said. The thug closed the door.

I nodded. ‘I need information, Mr Steenhoek.’

‘Well this is interesting,’ Steenhoek said. ‘Because I want information too. I want to know why I shouldn’t just have you killed right now. And I’ll be honest, I’m struggling.’

I indicated the thug next to me. ‘As he says. I have more diamonds on me. Fine quality.’

‘I let Toledo here loose on you. I still get the diamonds.’

‘You said you don’t go round killing people.’

‘Normally I don’t, Luc. Normally I don’t. But a man can be
driven
to it.’

‘Here? Shoot me here? You won’t get away with that.’

‘This is a hospital. There are plenty of people in hospitals with bullet wounds. Me, for instance.’

‘Yes, but if you shoot me in this room…’

‘I could shoot you in this room, doesn’t mean you’ll be found in this room.’