Early the next morning an unmarked police car entered the industrial complex and headed towards Trojan Industries’ warehouse. Although the sun had only just begun to climb in the sky, it was already baking hot, a warm breeze whipping across the concrete. It was going to be a sweltering day.
Standing waiting in the warehouse doorway, Luiz bounced up and down on his toes like a boxer before a title fight. Too wired to sleep after his conversation with Jordan, he had spent the rest of the night pacing up and down in his room. With the adrenalin still coursing through his system, Luiz felt more awake and alert than ever.
Beside him, Richard Madison smiled.
‘Take it easy, lad. Don’t want to tire yourself out before you get there.’
‘No chance of that,’ Luiz replied. ‘I’m buzzing.’
As the police car came to a halt beside them, the British man clasped Luiz’s hand warmly and patted him on the shoulder.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘Have this.’
Madison pressed a small, golden crucifix on a chain into Luiz’s hands.
‘Thanks,’ Luiz said. ‘I’m going to need it.’
‘In more ways than you know. This crucifix has got a GPS tracker inside it. Wherever you go, we’ll be able to follow you. Also, if you press the ends of both arms together, it’ll send out an electronic distress signal. The cavalry will get there as soon as they can.’
‘Let’s hope I’m still alive by the time they arrive,’ Luiz said gloomily.
Madison laughed. ‘Take care of yourself out there. You’ll do us proud, I know it.’
Looking at the affable Brit, Luiz realized that he was going to miss him.
‘Leaving without saying goodbye?’
Which was not something Luiz could say about Valerie Singer. The Israeli woman had stolen up soundlessly behind him and was eyeing him with arch amusement through a large pair of sunglasses.
‘Didn’t think you’d miss me,’ he replied in a surly tone of voice.
‘No, maybe not,’ agreed Valerie. ‘But I’m coming with you anyway. I have some business in town.’
She sat down in the front passenger seat and promptly lit another cigarette. Luiz clambered into the back, where Juan Oliveira gave him a sombre nod. The policeman didn’t seem any happier than he had at the meeting the night before. As the car pulled away, Luiz saw Madison wave farewell and then move back inside the warehouse. Of Trojan’s head, Darius Jordan, there was no sign.
At this time of the morning, the coastal road was quiet and the journey south back into the centre of Rio didn’t take long. As they entered the heart of the city, Oliveira turned to Luiz.
‘OK, so remember what we discussed last night. The plan is for you and Livio to get out in two days – I’ll give you the signal when we’re ready to go. This is pretty risky stuff and I want to make sure everything’s in place before we run through it. You’ve got until then to get to know Livio. A word of advice: don’t push it. Don’t ask too many questions. These kids spend so much time smoking dope that they’re all pretty paranoid. He needs to be sure you’re his kind of guy.’
‘Easier said than done,’ muttered Luiz.
‘It might not be as difficult as you think.’ The policeman smiled. ‘Remember, you’ve done a very bad thing and angered an important man…’
‘We’re nearly there,’ Valerie rapped from the front seat. ‘Cuff him.’
‘What?’ Luiz said, startled.
‘It’s going to look a bit strange if you walk into the police station like minor royalty. Better off you look like a proper gang member.’ She stubbed out her cigarette in the front-seat ashtray. ‘It starts here, Luiz. Time to go to work.’
As the car stopped outside a police station in the Zona Sul, Oliveira produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and snapped them around Luiz’s wrists, the metal biting into his skin. The policeman hauled Luiz out of the back and pushed him up the steps, all traces of amiability gone. Valerie Singer followed them through the glass entrance-way and into the cool hall beyond. Even though it was dark inside, she kept her sunglasses on.
‘Got another VIP for the penthouse,’ Oliveira called out to a policeman at the reception desk, clipping Luiz round the back of the head. ‘Need someone to take him down to the cells.’
‘Before you do,’ Valerie cut in, ‘there’s something I need to show him. You can stay here.’
Without waiting for Oliveira’s reply, she pushed Luiz past reception, taking him down a long, straight corridor. The room at the end was narrow and dark, dominated by a floor-length window that ran across one wall and looked out on to a second, brighter room. Through the window, Luiz saw a girl sitting at a table.
It was Ana.
Luiz’s sister looked pale and drawn. There were dark circles beneath her eyes. Her clothes were grimy and her long hair was tangled, but Luiz was relieved to see that there were no marks or bruises on her skin. He banged on the window, calling out her name. Ana didn’t turn round.
‘She won’t see or hear you,’ Valerie said in his ear. ‘It’s a two-way mirror and the room’s sound-proofed.’
‘Let me go in and see her!’
Valerie shook her head. ‘Not possible yet, I’m afraid. Perhaps in a couple of days. After you’ve spent some time in Santa Marta.’
‘If I can’t talk to her, why did you bring me here?’ Luiz asked, between clenched teeth.
‘Consider it a gentle reminder – just in case you were having second thoughts about the mission. We’re doing all we can for Ana, but until you fulfil your side of the bargain, she’s going nowhere.’
‘You’re a bitch,’ Luiz spat.
‘I’ve been called worse,’ Valerie replied calmly. ‘Livio’s in one of the cells on the other side of the building. A guard will come and take you there in a few minutes. You can watch your sister until then.’ She tucked a packet of cigarettes and a lighter into the breast pocket of Luiz’s shirt and tapped his cheek.
‘For making friends,’ she said.
Valerie walked out of the observation room and locked the door behind her. Luiz hammered on the window, shouting until he was hoarse, but Ana didn’t respond. At one point she turned and looked right at him, forlornly trying to rearrange her hair in the mirror, but there was no sign of recognition in her eyes.
He was still raging with frustration when the door was unlocked and a guard entered the room. If the man knew Luiz wasn’t a real criminal, he hid it well. He roughly manhandled Luiz down to the basement, taking him to the end of a dingy row of cells, where a boy was stretched out on a bench, hands crossed behind his head.
MC Livio was dark-skinned with a pudgy face, clad in a voluminous basketball shirt that nearly reached his knees. A black baseball cap was set casually on his head. He looked up warily through heavy-lidded eyes as the guard unlocked Luiz’s handcuffs and shoved him inside the cell. The cell door closed with a bang behind him.
‘Bastards!’ Luiz screamed, kicking one of the walls. His nostrils were flooded with a stench of sweat and urine.
‘Quit yelling!’ growled Livio. ‘They like it if you do that. And you’ll give me a headache.’ The MC looked over at Luiz menacingly. ‘Sit down and shut up.’
Luiz glared back, unwilling to give way too easily. Then he slammed his fist against the wall and slumped to the floor. Shaking his head, Livio lay back down on the bench, where he promptly dozed for hours, his chest rising and falling with every snore. There was a faint smell of marijuana among the acrid odours in the cell – Luiz guessed that the MC had been stoned when he was picked up and was now sleeping off the after-effects. As the morning dragged on into the afternoon and then the evening, Luiz remembered Oliveira’s advice and sat in silence, waiting patiently for his moment. There was no way he was going to speak first.
When night fell, the harsh strip lights in the cell suddenly flicked off without the two boys exchanging another word.
As morning broke over the police station, Luiz woke up with his joints stiff from the hard floor. He stood up and stretched, to find Livio staring at him, as though the MC was weighing something up. Eventually Livio nodded at him.
‘So where you from, then?’
Luiz shrugged. ‘Around.’
‘Around? What’s that mean? You gotta be from somewhere, man.’
‘Last place I was in was Rocinha. Before that Borel. Before that, somewhere else. I don’t stick around places very long. What about you?’
Livio leaned back on his bench. ‘Santa Marta,’ he said, casually tapping his black baseball cap. ‘I run with the Comando Negro.’
‘Really?’ Luiz raised an eyebrow. ‘I heard about them. Fierce reputation.’
‘Better believe it,’ Livio replied meaningfully.
The MC seemed more inclined to talk now and the two boys began a cautious exchange. It wasn’t long before the conversation turned to football and to Luiz’s relief he discovered that they were both fans of the same club: Botafogo. The boys commiserated with one another over their poor season and the recent defeat by arch-rivals Fluminense. Slowly, Livio’s hostile manner began to soften, giving Luiz a glimpse of a more open character beneath the bluster.
Midway through the morning, they were interrupted by a commotion in the corridor outside. Juan Oliveira was marching a handcuffed prisoner past their cage. At the sight of Luiz, the man’s eyes bulged and he broke away towards them.
‘You little shit!’ he screamed. ‘I heard what you did! I’m going to kill you! You’re a marked man!’
As the man ranted and raged at Luiz, the police guard struggled to wrestle him away from the cell. Finally the angry prisoner was led away down the corridor, leaving a trail of abuse behind him as he went.
‘Hey, I know that guy!’ Livio said, scrambling to his feet and peering through the bars. ‘He’s the dono of a gang down in Rocinha! What the hell did you do to him?’
‘I borrowed his car,’ Luiz replied matter-of-factly. ‘Had a little accident in it. That’s why I’m here.’
‘You stole a dono’s car? What make was it?’
‘BMW convertible.’
Livio let out a low whistle. ‘No wonder he’s pissed. Why didn’t you just run for it when you crashed the car?’
‘There was a problem,’ said Luiz. ‘I crashed into a police car.’
Livio stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. The MC reached across and slapped Luiz on the back.
‘I’d have loved to see the look on those bastards’ faces! Almost worth ending up in here for.’
‘What about you?’ asked Luiz. ‘Why are you here?’
‘The usual bullshit.’ Livio scratched his crotch, not bothering to explain further. ‘I gotta go to court tomorrow. With my record, I’m screwed. Man, I could do with a smoke.’
Luiz produced the cigarette packet and lighter Valerie had given him and offered the MC one. He glanced up with surprise.
‘You sure?’
‘Keep the packet.’
‘Really?’
‘I’m trying to quit,’ Luiz replied.
The MC snorted with amusement, secreting the cigarette packet within the folds of his basketball shirt. The day passed more quickly after that. Luiz wasn’t sure if he had managed to gain Livio’s trust, but at least the MC no longer looked like he wanted to punch him. Livio might have been a bit flabby, but Luiz wouldn’t have wanted to get into a fight with him.
As the lights in the cell snapped off for the second night, the two of them settled down to go to sleep.
‘So say you manage to avoid jail,’ Livio said, a drowsy note creeping into his voice. ‘What are you going to do then?’
Luiz shrugged. ‘You heard the dono earlier. I sure as hell can’t go back to Rocinha.’ He paused. ‘You reckon anyone in Santa Marta might need a driver?’
‘What, like the Comando Negro? You serious?’
‘I got to do something for money. Driving’s all I know.’
The MC had a doubtful look on his face. ‘I don’t know, man. You’ve got balls, but we’re taking it to a whole new level.’
‘But if we could get out of here,’ Luiz persisted, ‘would you take me up to Santa Marta? Put a word in for me?’
‘We get out of here, you can sleep with my sister,’ grunted Livio.
With that, the MC’s breathing became deeper and more even as he fell fast asleep. Luiz lay awake for hours, thinking, until finally exhaustion overtook him and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.