He had to ask.
“How can I help you, Delegado?”
Tanaka put down his cup, a delicate affair in the willow pattern.
“It’s not so much a question of you helping me, as it is of me helping you. Let me see, how shall I begin?”
The host slid forward in his chair, undoubtedly wishing the cop would get to the point. And then the cop did. With unsettling suddenness.
“I’m carrying out an investigation concerning the disap-pearance of the Lisboa family: a stonemason, his wife, and their two adolescent daughters.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
Tanaka continued as if he hadn’t heard the interjection.
“They lived in Jardim Tonato, a favela, and were ostensibly moving to a fazenda in the interior of the state. They never got there. In fact, there is no such fazenda. Their furniture, furniture that should have been transported to their new home, was sold to a shop.”
“Sold?”
It came out as a croak.
“Sold,” Tanaka repeated. “The seller accepted a check and deposited it in his personal account. He told the buyer that he’d acquired the furniture as an investment, acquired it from one of those trucks that sells merchandise along the highways. That would make it untraceable, of course.”
While Tanaka was delivering this information, the man in white swallowed twice. Each time, his prominent Adam’s apple bounced up and down on his thin neck. Tanaka paused for a few seconds and then drove in the final naiclass="underline" “The seller’s name is Roberto Ribeiro.”
Tanaka’s host reached for his coffee, but before he could grasp it his hand began to tremble. In an attempt to conceal his original intention, he began to tap his fingers on the desk.
“You know this Ribeiro, do you not?” Tanaka said.
Silence.
“He told me he works for you,” the cop insisted.
More silence.
“He also claims he knows nothing about the Lisboa family. I don’t believe him. Shall I tell you why?”
The man in white was looking at him like a cobra looks at a mongoose.
“It’s because Ribeiro flaunts a medallion from Flamengo,” Tanaka said, “and the man who took the Lisboa family away also wore just such a medallion. It’s rare here in Sao Paulo to find a man who demonstrates his support for Flamengo like that. Coincidence, do you think? Or is he the same man?”
“I deny any-”
Tanaka cut him off. “Don’t waste your breath. You’ve got yourself a nice little racket going,” he said. “A man could live well off the proceeds, couldn’t he?”
His host blinked. It took him less than another second to recognize where Tanaka was going.
“Very well indeed,” he said. “And not that man alone. Others could benefit as well. Others have.”
The cop smiled. “I can see we understand each other,” he said, lifting the delicate cup from its saucer. “I have my sus-picions, of course, but I can honestly claim to be ignorant of what you’re up to here. I didn’t press Ribeiro for a complete confession, and I don’t intend to, as long as we come to. . an arrangement. Your business need not necessarily be my business. I’m sure you’d prefer I keep it that way.”
“I would.”
“Good.” Tanaka drained the coffee and picked up his brief-case. “I have here,” he continued, “the recordings of the inter-rogation of Ribeiro, the only recordings of that interrogation. If you look at the video, you’ll note that I was the only one present.” He slid two tapes across the desk, one a VHS video, the other an audiocassette. “They’re for sale. The release of Ribeiro, my silence, and my promise not to pursue the inves-tigation, are included in the package. It will cost you one hun-dred thousand American dollars. The price is not negotiable.”
“And if I refuse?”
Tanaka lifted his eyebrows, feigning surprise.
“Refuse? I suggest you take a moment to consider the con-sequences.”
“One hundred thousand dollars is a great deal of money.”
“Yes, it is. Nonnegotiable.”
When his host failed to respond, Tanaka stood, crossed to the mantelpiece, admired the ormolu clock, and idly picked up a photo in a silver frame. It showed his host as a much younger man, arm in arm with an older gentleman. They were standing on the lawn in front of the building, the part that had later been transformed into a parking lot.
“Your father?” he asked.
“No.”
When no further information appeared to be forthcom-ing, Tanaka put the photo down. “Well?” he said. “Do we have an arrangement?”
In lieu of an answer, the man in white gathered the tapes and put them into the top drawer of his desk. Tanaka smiled and returned to his seat.
“When will Ribeiro be released?”
“This very afternoon,” Tanaka said. “Now, before I leave, I must caution you. The federal police are also involved in this investigation. They’ve become very curious about a cer-tain clandestine cemetery in the Serra de Cantareira, a cemetery about which I’m sure you know nothing.”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“No. That’s what I thought. Well, there’s nothing to pre-vent them from stumbling across Ribeiro, just like I did. That being the case, it might be best if he. . disappeared.”
“I understand.”
“As to the payment, I’ll give you three business days to get it together. I want cash, and I want American dollars. Once I’ve received the money, there’ll be no need for either of us to see the other ever again.”
“Nothing would please me more,” the man in white said.
He waited until the guard watching the front gate assured him that Tanaka was gone. Then he summoned Claudia Andrade. She entered the room frowning. She was almost always frowning, and her frown deepened when he told her about the policeman’s visit.
“Are we going to pay him?” she asked when he’d finished.
“We are. To gain time. It’s only a hundred thousand dol-lars, after all. A trifle.”
“And take his advice? About Ribeiro?”
“Certainly not.”
She walked to the window, turning her back to him, con-cealing her expression. When she spoke again, her posture hadn’t altered, but her tone of voice had.
“I most emphatically disagree. The man’s an idiot. He had strict instructions to destroy that furniture. Instead, he sold it, and for the sake of a few reais he’s put us in jeopardy. We should get rid of him immediately.”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I said no.”
“Why not?”
“Because he continues to be useful.”
“Useful?” She snorted. “He’s dangerous, that’s what he is. If that cop wasn’t venal, where would we be then? Tell me that.”
“Ah, but the cop is venal, which means there’s no serious harm done.”
“No? What makes you think we’ve seen the last of him? I’ve heard blackmailers always come back for another bite of the apple.”
“They do. And that’s the problem we should be concen-trating our energies on, not Ribeiro. What’s the name of that police official we have on the payroll?”
“Soares. Lieutenant Soares. Why?”
“Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
Chapter Fifteen
“It’s another one of those crummy undercover jobs, isn’t it?” Babyface Goncalves said, looking back and forth between Hector Costa and the device on the table in front of him.
They were in the conference room of the federal police field office in Sao Paulo. The device was one of the latest-generation speakerphones. It looked like a little, gray pyramid.
Goncalves was one of the principal participants in the conversation that was taking place, Hector a mere bystander.
“It is,” Silva said, his voice emanating from the instrument.
“What are you guys gonna do when my face catches up with my age, huh?” Goncalves said.