Brazil (6 page)

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.

7. Hell Mouth

They were brutally awoken by a policeman banging on the cage with his baton.

‘Wake up, girls,’ he shouted. ‘Time to go to your prom!’

Livio rubbed his eyes sleepily and groaned. ‘Man, I was having the nicest dream! I was with this beautiful girl and…’

The policeman strode over to the bench and dragged Livio to the floor.

‘OK, OK!’ the MC cried out, as the policeman raised his baton in the air. ‘I’m up! No need to beat the shit out of me!’

The two boys were handcuffed and marched out of the cells. As they walked back through the main hallway, Luiz saw Juan Oliveira leaning on the reception desk.

‘Have a nice day, girls,’ he called out as they passed. ‘Don’t worry – there’ll be lots of men in prison to keep you warm.’

‘Go screw yourself,’ Luiz spat back.

Oliveira whirled round and punched him in the belly, knocking the air from his lungs. As the policeman wrestled him to the ground, Luiz felt him press a metal key into his palm.

‘You little scumbag,’ Oliveira snarled in his ear. ‘You’d better hope I don’t see you again.’

He hauled Luiz to his feet and shoved him back to the guard.

‘Get them out of my sight.’

Winded, Luiz staggered through the glass entrance alongside Livio and into the sunshine on the station steps. He had barely registered the police van waiting by the side of the road when a gunshot rang out.

The sound shattered the bright blue morning as though it were glass. There was a shocked pause, a second when everything froze and utter silence reigned. Then another gunshot rang out and all hell broke loose.

Passers-by began screaming, throwing themselves to the ground and covering their heads. Swearing, the policeman next to Luiz pushed him to one side and pulled a gun from his holster. He fired off a couple of return shots, aiming at a battered Ford on the other side of the street. There was a movement from behind the bonnet of the car and suddenly a third bullet flew narrowly past Luiz, smashing the Perspex doors of the police station with an earsplitting crash.

Grabbing the sluggish form of Livio, Luiz dived to his left, hunkering down behind the low wall that ran around the front of the police station.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ the MC shouted.

‘Search me!’ Luiz yelled back. ‘Guess someone hates the cops more than we do.’

Glancing around, he saw the policeman had taken cover behind the wall on the other side of the steps. From time to time the officer darted up from his cover to fire off intermittent shots, his attention fixed firmly on the mystery gunman behind the Ford. Producing the key Oliveira had stuffed into his hand, Luiz freed himself from his cuffs and then passed the key to Livio. The MC gave him a look of astonishment.

‘How did you…?’

‘Took it from the policeman when the shots began. Hurry up!’

As Livio fumbled to undo the lock, Luiz peered over the wall and saw what he was looking for: a white scooter handily parked in front of the police van. Just where Oliveira had promised it would be.

‘Let’s make a break for that bike,’ he said.

‘Are you crazy?’ Livio hissed. ‘It’s a firefight out there.’

‘Do you
want
to go to prison?’ Luiz asked. ‘Come on!’

He waited for a break in the shooting, then scrambled to his feet and jumped over the wall on to the pavement. Using the police van as cover, he crawled over to the scooter, then gestured frantically for Livio to follow. The MC seemed reluctant, but after a final look around him he hurriedly shambled over to the police van.

Policemen were pouring out on to the station steps – reinforcements had finally arrived. It was now or never. Luiz dashed out into the open and leaped on to the scooter.

‘Get on!’ he screamed at Livio.

As the MC bundled on to the back of the scooter, Luiz revved the handle and spurred the bike into life. With a roar it sped off down the road. There was a shout from the policemen behind them, then Luiz heard a bullet whiz over his head. He bent lower over the handlebars of the scooter and began zigzagging down the street, trying to present a difficult target. As they veered around a blue saloon, there was a pinging sound as a bullet hit the boot of the car.

‘Holy shit!’ Livio screamed. ‘Let’s move!’

Luiz didn’t need to be told twice. He jammed down on the handle, urging the bike forward until it reached top speed, and the sound of gunfire fell away into the background.

From his vantage point in the doorway of the police station, Juan Oliveira watched the two boys speed off. As they disappeared from sight, the boy on the back of the scooter whooped, raising his middle finger in the air at the policemen. Oliveira waited for a few seconds, then stepped out into the open and held up his hand. The gunshots abruptly stopped, leaving the street in a state of dazed aftershock.

A man got up from behind the battered Ford and jogged over to Oliveira, stuffing his pistol back in his holster. Oliveira looked pointedly at the shattered door behind him.

‘I don’t recall telling you to destroy any doors, sergeant,’ he said mildly.

‘Sorry about that, sir,’ the sergeant said. ‘I pulled my shot to the left. What are you going to tell the bosses?’

‘Guess I’ll have to think of something.’

‘Apart from that, it went according to plan,’ the sergeant continued hastily. ‘We did as you ordered – put on a bit of a show. Would have looked real enough to a civilian. But short of giving the little shits directions, we couldn’t have made it any easier for them to escape. They’ll be back in the
favela
before you know it.’

‘Good.’

An uneasy look crossed the sergeant’s face.

‘This doesn’t feel right, sir. Helping the bastards get away. You sure you can’t tell me what this is about?’

Oliveira shook his head. The sergeant sighed. ‘This is crazy, boss.’

‘You’re telling me,’ Oliveira replied grimly, looking out in the direction of the boys.

As the motorbike careered through the streets of Rio, Livio laughed and hollered in Luiz’s ear, shouting out insults about the police. Even though Luiz was focused on navigating the scooter through the traffic at breakneck speed, he couldn’t deny the wave of elation that was washing over him. Despite the fact that Oliveira had explained exactly how the set-up would work back at Trojan’s warehouse, it hadn’t made the gunfight feel any less real.

Livio tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Hey, let me off here,’ he shouted, above the growl of the scooter’s engine. ‘There’s something I gotta do.’

‘What about the police?’ Luiz shouted back, as they pulled up alongside a row of shops.

Livio shrugged. ‘If they come after me, they come after me. I got bigger worries than them.’

‘You want me to come with you?’

‘Nah – you can get out of here.’

As the MC turned to leave, Luiz quickly called him back. ‘Hey, wait! You just going to leave me here? You said you’d put a word in for me with the Comando Negro!’

‘I don’t know, Luiz,’ Livio replied, looking suddenly uncertain. ‘This might be a bad time. There’s a lot of shit going down right now.’

‘Come on, man! You promised!’

Luiz held his breath as Livio bit his lip in thought. Eventually, the MC nodded.

‘OK. You know the way to Santa Marta?’

Luiz nodded.

‘I’ll meet you at the
boca
in an hour. No promises, though.’ He exchanged a complicated handshake with Luiz. ‘See you then, my friend.’

The MC sauntered away down the street. If he was worried that the police were going to catch up with him, he hid it well. Unlike Livio, Luiz knew for certain that no one would be coming after them. He drove slowly around Rio, trying to steel his jangling nerves. Although the morning had gone like clockwork, that had been arranged beforehand. In the
favela
, nothing was planned.

An hour later, he steered his scooter up the steep incline that led towards Santa Marta. As the road narrowed, Luiz felt his heart begin to beat faster. It had been years since he’d last made this journey – but even so, there were certain sights he recognized: shopfronts and cafes, the mission where he and Ana had been taken in before their adoption. Now, however, the walls were plastered with a particular graffiti symbol, spray-painted in black: a cross-shaped gravestone in between the letters C and N. The message was clear. Santa Marta was Comando Negro territory.

Outside a drinks shop, two boys were sitting on the step, warily scanning the street. Lookouts. As Luiz sped past them, one of them frowned and began talking into a radio phone. Unlike other kids, the gangs tended not to use mobiles, wary of their calls being traced. Regardless, it was bad news. After four years away, no one was going to recognize Luiz any more – and strangers didn’t try to enter the
favela
alone. Luiz knew that the lookout would be alerting other members of the Comando Negro, the ones standing guard further up the road at the
boca do fumo
– the ‘mouth of the smoke’.

Every
favela
boasted at least one
boca
. It served as both a point of sale, where people bought their drugs from the local gangs, and a marker of the entrance to the
favela
. Gangs maintained
bocas
like security checkpoints, with lookouts and armed guards monitoring all the traffic that passed in and out of the
favelas
. Even the police tended not to approach the
bocas
unless they were intent on carrying out a raid. Beyond that point, it was the gangs’ law that mattered.