“But this will never do!” Mathais cried. He had seated himself on one corner of a folding chair, and he jumped to his feet as if ready to rush rights out and rectify this terrible error at once.
“No, no!” Ari laughed. “It was returned.” He patted his breast pocket a bit boastfully. “A misunderstanding, I really assure you.” The nap had refreshed him, and the wine was relaxing. This was promising to be fun.
“Returned?” Gunther sounded surprised. “Captain Da Silva returned it? Your passport?”
“Not Captain Da Silva,” Ari explained, as if the matter were of no importance. “The American Embassy returned it.” He finished his champagne with a final sip and stared at the little bubbles that still clung to the sides of the glass. “I should judge this Da Silva finally realized he had no actual authority for holding it; or more likely his superiors knew he had overstepped himself and wanted no trouble.” He held out his glass to Mathais, who rushed to refill it. Well, well, Ari thought, watching the bubbles pulse upwards in his glass. I am positive they knew I went to the Embassy today; I wonder why all these histrionics.
“A pity I did not know of this,” the manager said unctuously. “I have a little influence and I might have been of some help.” He set the empty bottle to one side and at once selected another and began to open it. “I imagine the American Embassy also made some difficulties. You were gone so long...” He allowed the words to fade into his sudden concentration on dislodging the cork. There was another loud plop and he filled Gunther’s glass and his own.
Ach, so? Ari thought. “Oh, no,” he said calmly. “There was no delay. As a matter of fact, I imagine I was there less than ten minutes.” Inspiration struck him. “Afterwards, I had some rather important arrangements to make...” He sipped his wine slowly and then, obviously, changed the subject. “One must give credit where it is due,” he said magnanimously. “In the matter of passports, we must admit the Americans are quite efficient.”
“Important arrangements?” Mathais began to ask, and then changed his mind. “You are not a stranger to Brazil, then? You know people here, yes?”
“A few. One always needs to know a few.”
“Yes,” Mathais said helplessly. The manager was saved the necessity of thinking of the next question, for at this moment there was a rap at the door, and two waiters came wheeling in their dinner. “Ah,” cried Mathais, bounding to his feet in relief, once more mine host. He turned to his guest, his enthusiasm immediately fading. “You like avocado?” he asked anxiously. Ari assured him that he did. The manager’s voice became more sepulchral. “And shrimp?” Ari nodded. “The duck I can positively guarantee,” said the manager with more confidence. Fernandel could take lessons from this one, Ari thought.
The waiters were directed peremptorily; they sat down to eat. The meal was excellent; Ari discovered that he was very hungry. The others seemed to pluck at their food uninterestedly, but Ari ate steadily and with obvious enjoyment. With coffee came liqueurs, and after this, cigars. They relaxed in chairs while the waiters piled everything on the carts and wheeled them away. It has been years since food tasted so good, Ari thought, puffing gently on his cigar. It must be the satisfaction that comes from starting a new and important job, he thought; or possibly appetite is enriched by the thought of successful embezzling. Taking money from others without being caught seems to be the formula for a healthy hunger; embezzling has its points. He knocked his ashes into his ash tray and burped politely. I wonder, he thought, what comes now.
“You plan to stay long in Brazil?” Mathais asked, his manner that of one who makes polite conversation.
Ari puffed on his cigar, savoring it. “I honestly have no idea. This is my first visit to Brazil, you know. The little I have seen of it seems very beautiful. I think I might enjoy spending some time here.”
“Your first visit?” Mathais said, almost objecting. “But you said you knew some people...”
“You would enjoy the South,” Gunther interposed positively. “It is much more simpático.”
“Simpático?”
“It is a word we use very much here in Brazil,” Mathais explained, relieved, his teeth flashing. “You would say gemütlich. And any place is simpático if one has enough money.” He added this last with all the authority of one making an original statement.
“But is Rio always as hot as it was today?” Ari objected, idly watching the smoke curl negligently from his cigar. “Beautiful, yes. But today...” He shook his head. “Today was hot!”
“In the South it is never hot,” Gunther said stubbornly. “In Santa Catarina, for example, it...” “Yes,” Mathais said, answering Ari and paying no attention to the sudden flush that appeared on Gunther’s face at this interruption, “Rio is beautiful, but it is also hot. São Paulo, now.” He puffed majestically; Gunther subsided sullenly. “Do you know São Paulo? A pity. Now, should you be thinking of going to São Paulo, perhaps I can be of assistance. Hotels, for example...”
“I have been thinking possibly of getting an apartment,” Ari said idly. He smiled at Mathais. “No criticism of hotels, you understand, but... You see, it is possible that I may stay in Brazil for a while.” He took them into his confidence with a diffident smile; they nodded.
“In Rio?” Gunther asked.
Ari shrugged. “If it is always this hot, maybe São Paulo...”
“On this I can definitely help you,” Mathais said positively, “I happen to have a friend in São Paulo, a man of much substance. Actually, he is—” Gunther shot him a glance — “a man of great importance. I am sure he could be most useful to you.”
Ari nodded thankfully. So São Paulo seemed to be the headquarters; it was good to know. One step forward, at the least. “You are most kind,” he said, wiping his ashes into the tray at his elbow with precision. “When I am ready to go I shall let you know, yes? However—” he shrugged — “for the next few days I believe I shall relax and enjoy your Rio de Janeiro. It is beautiful; I should like to see all of it.”
The telephone rang as he finished speaking; he looked askance at Mathais. “It must be for me,” the manager said worriedly, lifting the receiver. “I left definite instructions...” He listened to the voice at the other end with a faint frown on his face. “For you,” he said, handing the instrument to Gunther with a touch of surprise. Ari watched them both; they seemed quite honestly perturbed by the call.
Gunther was listening intently. A faint buzz at the other end could be heard clearly as the caller spoke. The customs official replied rapidly in Portuguese and then listened with concentration to the answer his words had invoked. He nodded to the instrument as if the caller were there in person, spoke a few words more in tense interrogation, listened, and slowly replaced the receiver on the hook.
“I’m afraid I must go,” he said, eying Ari with a strange mixture of caution and respect. “There has been some trouble at the airport.”
“Trouble?” Mathais cried. “What trouble? An accident?”
“No; a robbery.”
“A robbery? The, ah... the thieves escaped?”
For seconds Gunther withheld his reply, looking at Ari with smiling speculation. Then with no inflection at all, he said, “Yes. They escaped.”
“A shame,” Ari said, arising and smiling with relief. “A shame. I am most sorry that you must go, but I understand...”