‘Tracy,’ Smith said stiffly, ‘is the managing director of McCormick-Mackenzie International Publications Division.’ Hamilton looked unimpressed. ‘Maria is my confidential secretary and, I might add, a close personal friend.’
Hamilton looked away from Tracy and Maria almost as if he had already dismissed them from his mind as being of no importance. I’m not interested in your relationships. My fee.’
Smith was obviously taken aback. Gentlemen did not discuss business negotiations in this crude and abrupt fashion. Momentarily, his expression hovered between astonishment and anger. Many years had passed since any man had dared talk to him in such a way. He required considerable willpower to repress his anger.
‘Hiller mentioned it, I think,’ Smith said. ‘A six-figure sum. One hundred thousand dollars—U.S. dollars – friend.’
I’m not your friend. A quarter million.’
‘Ludicrous.’
‘I could say Thanks for the drink and walk out. I’m not childish. I hope you’re not either.’
Smith had not become the man he was without the ability to make his mind up very rapidly indeed. Without in any way appearing to capitulate he capitulated immediately.
‘A man would want an awful lot of service for money like that.’
‘Let’s get our terms clear. You get co-operation, not service. I’ll return to this point later. I regard my fee as being far from excessive in view of the fact that I’m damned certain you’re in this not just to get a few nice photographs and a human interest story. Who ever heard of Joshua Smith engaging upon any enterprise where money was not the prime and motivating factor?’
‘As far as the past is concerned I would agree with you.’ Smith’s voice was quiet. ‘In this particular instance money is not the principal factor.’
Hamilton nodded in acknowledgment. ‘That could well be. In this particular instance, I could well believe you.’ Smith looked taken aback at Hamilton’s concession, then his expression changed to one of speculation. Hamilton smiled. ‘You’re doubtless trying to figure out what I’ve figured out as the other motivation. You need not concern yourself for that in no way concerns me. Now, transportation?’
‘What? What was that?’ Smith had been caught off-balance by the sudden switch in topic which he should not have been as it was a favourite tactic of his own. ‘Ah! Transportation.’
‘Yes. What kind of transportation – air and water, we can forget land—do your companies have available?’
‘A great deal, as you can imagine. What we don’t have we can hire although I should think the need would be unlikely. Tracy has all the details. Tracy, by the way, is both a qualified pilot and helicopter pilot.’
‘Helps. Where are the details?’
‘Tracy has the details.’ Smith said this in such a way as to convey the impression that he was not the man to be concerned with details, which was probably quite an accurate impression for he was famous for his gift in picking top-flight lieutenants and delegating the bulk of the executive work to them. Tracy, who had been following the conversation closely, rose, crossed to where they were standing and handed Hamilton a folder. The expression on Tracy’s face bespoke a marked lack of affection: managing directors do not take kindly to being called nosey bastards. Hamilton appeared to notice nothing amiss.
He took the folder, read rapidly through the loose-leaf contents, pausing briefly now and again as something in particular caught his attention, then closed the folder. One could have been forgiven for assuming that Hamilton had already absorbed the contents: he probably had. For once, Hamilton seemed fairly impressed.
‘Quite an air/sea fleet, haven’t you? Everything from a Boeing 727 to a Piper Comanche. Double rotor freight helicopter – this is a Sikorsky Skycrane?’
‘Yes.’
‘And a hovercraft. Can the helicopter lift the hovercraft?’
‘Naturally. That’s why it was bought.’
‘Where’s the hovercraft? Corrientes?’
Smith said: ‘How the devil do you know?’
‘Logic. Wouldn’t be much good to you here or in Rio, would it? I’ll take this folder. See you this evening.’
‘This evening?’ Smith looked unhappy. ‘Damn it, man, we have to draw up our plans and—’
‘I’ll draw up the plans. I’ll explain them when I return with my assistants this evening.’
‘Damn it all, Hamilton, I am putting up all the money. The man who pays the piper calls the tune.’
‘This time out, you’re second fiddle.’
Hamilton left, leaving behind him a brief but profound silence. Tracy said: ‘Well. Of all the arrogant, hard-nosed, intransigent bastards—’
‘Agreed, agreed,’ Smith said. ‘But he holds the cards, all of them.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Enigma. Rough, tough, but dresses well, speaks well, obviously at home in any territory. Nuances, clever nuances. At ease in my drawing-room. Not many strangers are. Come to that, nobody is.’
Tracy said: ‘And he’s come to the conclusion that this Lost City is so dangerously inaccessible that he’s not prepared to try the same route again. So – a helicopter. Or hovercraft.’
‘I wonder.’ Smith was still looking thoughtful.
‘Why else would a man like that throw in his lot with us?’
‘Because he’s convinced he can eat us alive,’ Maria said. She paused. ‘Maybe he will at that.’
Smith looked at her without expression then crossed to the dining-room window. Hamilton was just moving away in his black Cadillac. A chauffeur stopped polishing a nondescript Ford, glanced towards Smith’s window, nodded, climbed into his car and followed the Cadillac.
Hamilton was driving down one of Brasilia’s broad boulevards. He consulted his rear mirror. The Ford was about two hundred yards behind. Hamilton increased his speed. So did the Ford. Both cars were now traveling well above the speed limit. A police car appeared behind the Ford, switched on the siren, overtook and flagged the Ford to a stop.
The Ministry of Justice was a rather splendid building and the large airy office in which Hamilton sat opposite across a polished leather table from Colonel Ricardo Diaz was suitably sumptuous. Diaz, in an immaculately cut uniform, was large, tanned and looked competent to a degree, which indeed he was. Diaz took a sip of some indeterminate liquid and sighed.
‘About Smith, Mr Hamilton, you know as much as we do – everything and nothing. His past is a mystery, his present an open book that anyone is welcome to read. The dividing line between the present and the past can’t be precisely delineated but it is known that he appeared – or, rather, emerged or surfaced in Santa Catharina, a province with a traditionally heavy Germanic settlement, in the late forties. Whether he is of similar origin is not known: his English is as immaculate as his Portuguese but,* as far as is known, he has never been heard to speak German.
‘His, first business venture was to produce a newspaper aimed primarily at the native German speakers in the province but printed in Portuguese: it was conservative and strongly pro-establishment and marked the beginning of a long and close association with the government of the time, an association that has persisted, despite changes of government, until this day.
‘He then branched out into the fields of early plastics and early ball-point pens. Smith was never an innovator—he was and remains a take-over specialist and a share manipulator of genius. Both the publishing and the industrial sides of his businesses expanded at a remarkable speed and within ten years he was, by any standards, a very wealthy man.’
Hamilton said: ‘He couldn’t have been without the odd cruzeiro to begin with.’
‘Agreed. Expansion on a scale such as Smith’s must have called for a great deal of capital.’
‘And the source of capital is unknown?’
‘Totally. But that’s nothing to hold against any man. In this country—as in many others—we don’t care to enquire too closely into those things.
‘Now we come to Tracy. He is indeed the general manager of Smith’s publication division. Very tough, very able, nothing known about him in the criminal line, which could mean that he’s either honest or very clever. The best you can say of him is that he’s a soldier of fortune. The police are certain that the bulk of his activities are illegal—diamonds have an odd habit of disappearing when he’s in the neighbourhood—but he’s never been arrested far less convicted. Serrano is a small-time crook, not too bright and a fearful coward.’
‘He can’t be all that cowardly if he ventures alone into the rain-forests of the Mato Grosso. Not many white people would.’
‘That thought, I admit, has also occurred to me. I’m merely passing on reported reputation, accuracy not guaranteed. Now, Heffner. Heffner’s the joker. Wouldn’t recognise a camera if he tripped over one. Well known to the New York police. Associated with crimes of violence and alleged gangland killings, but he’s always beaten the rap. Not too surprising really – no police in any country are going to come over all zealous and excited when one hoodlum dispatches another. Curious fellow. Usually well spoken and civilised enough—look at those pillars of society, the Mafia bosses—but the veneer vanishes when he gets next to a bottle of bourbon. And he has a weakness for bourbon.’