Clint Faraday Mysteries Collection B :This Job is Murder Collector's Edition (36 page)

On the trip to Panamá City Clint made it a
point to be where he could observe everyone who got on the bus. The
one he half-expected didn’t board the bus. He and Emanuel made an
arrangement to get the next predetermined stop set up. Emanuel
wouldn’t countenance lying so Clint said he wouldn’t be lying. He
would simply say that he left Darien because some people who seemed
dangerous to him were there. That was true.

In Panamá City they went to an internet café
where he got the next destination. The woman, Veronica, seemed very
distressed that anyone was following him. She just couldn’t imagine
why anyone would be interested in a missionary who was there to aid
the needy. They found an out-of-the-way moderate hotel in a
dangerous section of the city. Clint would go everywhere with
Emanuel until they left. For Bocas Town. Home.

Bocas Town

Clint and Emanuel got off the Bocas del Toro
bus at Valle de Aguas at 8:10 in the morning. Clint called Judi and
said they were coming. He called Manolo as soon as they were
settled in.

“
Clint, there isn’t much I can find out
about that council. It’s registered by a ... CIA front, if you want
the truth. There are ties with Interpol et al. I do some work with
them. I don’t pretend to like the implications. At all.”

“
There has to be something else. A
better reason.”

“
I’m digging. I’ve always said the
methods used by the CIA stink. They and DEA are a lot worse than
most of the ones they catch. `The end justifies the means’ is a
pile of oozy horseshit. You know I won’t go along with a lot of
it.”

“
I think I know what they’ll claim.
It’ll be another pile of horseshit. Thanks, Manolo.”

Okay. Clint figured it was the CIA and that
they’d claim the profits from the sale of the stolen art was
financing terrorism. That was certainly on the minds of Willie and
Roberto. All they were doing was seeing that these people were
stopped in any way they could. No one was dead who deserved to
live.

Maybe. What about that snakebite victim? What
did she have to do with it? Was she just in the way? Using someone
like Emanuel, who, despite the fact he was irritating and a bit
obnoxious at first, was innocent was the inexcusable part. He was a
person who cared about other people. That was the totally
inescapable fact. They could play all the games they wanted. Both
sides – but only so long as they left innocent people out of it.
Involving such people crossed the line a long way. Clint wasn’t the
least hesitant about setting certain types against each other. It
saved decent taxpayers a bundle for one or fifty of them to knock
off one or fifty others. They didn’t have to spend a million bucks
apiece a year keeping them locked up.

The Robinson Emanuel was supposed to locate
was here. Here or close. Why did they need Emanuel?

Because it was a very large family. There
were a number of them who might be involved in art theft. There
weren’t any, so far as Clint knew, who would be involved with
terrorists in any way. Finding one certain individual in that
family would be one hell of a hard task. They would protect one
another and would put out a lot of false information. The one they
were after would probably be very popular among a large group. The
family was deeply involved in politics and knew how to manipulate
people.

Emanuel would lay low a while until they
found out a few things about the followers.

Judi came home from shopping about four
o’clock and told Clint Willie and Roberto were back. Would Emanuel
be the reason?

“
They asked, in their own charming
inimitable way, if you were here. I said I couldn’t say. You
weren’t here last night.”

“
If they ask again, just say I came in,
am in a very bad mood and keep ranting about people screwing with
my mind.”

She smirked at him. “So. How are the DEA and
CIA mixed up in this?”

Clint giggled. She got that information in
two minutes, probably.

“
That’s what I can’t quite figure.
They’re very definitely involved, but there’s one other I can’t
figure from any angle.

“
You know something else? I think
Willie and Roberto don’t have a clue about him! HE’S why they keep
running into dead ends!”

“
Who?”

“
Don’t I wish I knew the real answer to
that.”

She laughed and said she would go on home. If
they were watching they would know she came there. Sure enough. As
soon as she went home they called to ask if Clint was back yet.

“
He’s back and in a horrible mood! I
don’t know what happened, but I damned well intend to keep away
from him until he cools down! What a mood!”

“
Is anyone with him? We heard he came
in with someone. A man.”

“
I didn’t see anyone else. He may have
stashed a guest somewhere, probably in Almirante or Changuinola. It
could be why he’s in such a bad mood. Someone imposing on him makes
him, shall we say, a bit irate.”

She was playing the airheaded ditzo. They
would figure she didn’t know anything and that they could use her
to get information.

Hah! She could play them like a
Stradivarius!

They soon said goodbye and hung up. It
wouldn’t occur to them that she stalked out in Chiriqui Grande
because she thought they were the lowest kind of scum?

Probably not. They got a lot of that.

Clint thought for a few minutes, then called
Manny Mathews, a retired mafia don from the states living in the
area to avoid his old life and raise a family who wouldn’t be
ashamed of how pops made his. He and Clint, who arranged the
retirement, were close friends. He still had ways to get
information that were far above anything else.

Clint asked which Robinson had stolen art.
Manny said he’d call back in fifteen minutes. When he did, he
started with, “Two of them. Yveth and Fabio. Here and Changuinola.
Also a Taylor and an Arauz are into collecting such items.”

They chatted for a few minutes, then Clint
went to Emanuel to ask if he knew which Robinson he was after.

“
I’m not yet certain. I have to find
... I would have to meet them to determine which one. I know a
little about her to make the connection, you see. I would tell her
that Beth Chandler from San Diego said to drop by if I was in the
area. That is true – according to Veronica.”

Clint nodded and said he could probably
determine it was an Yveth.

“
Contact Veronica and tell her that you
couldn’t deliver the message because Yveth is the only one it could
be and she’s not here for another two weeks. She’s in Costa Rica
visiting a cousin.”

“
I can’t say that!”

“
Why not? It’s true.”

“
Oh. I see. You checked and found that.
You are not asking that I prevaricate. I understand.”

Clint nodded. Maybe Emanuel wouldn’t lie
about anything. He would!

An hour later, after spending the time on the
computer e-mailing a number of his friends, Emanuel said that
Veronica suggested he go to Panamá City to see if he could aid a
Fernando Harris D’Angona. The man was in spiritual crisis and would
be able to fund a clinic if he could be convinced that it would
assuage his soul of past mistakes. He was using another name, but
he would know Norman Donaldson from Atlanta, Georgia, USA. Use the
name to help convince Mr. Harris of the sincerity of wanting to
help him find the true blah, blah, blah.

Clint sighed. He called Air Panamá to book
them on the morning flight. They would be damned sure no one knew
about that trip. Clint had worked with the police here on several
cases and they had strict instructions about what might happen if
anyone let out information concerning Clint Faraday and anyone
working with him.

Clint decided not to go to town that night.
It would be in character for him to stay home if he was in a bad
mood. He would never take a bad mood out at night. He got a good
night’s sleep. He and Emanuel (in enough of a disguise that he
might not be recognized by anyone who didn’t already know him) got
to the plane at the last moment and went aboard. Clint studied the
other passengers by going along the aisle before take-off to say
“Hello!” to all he knew. Judi would tell Willie and Roberto that
Clint and some friend from the states went to Panamá City on the
early flight. He felt that Emanuel was having more excitement and
fun from all this crap than he ever knew before in his life.

Panamá City

They landed at Tucumen where Clint called
Jerry Ames, a friend who had a condo in the city, to have him and
Emanuel picked up and taken somewhere where Emanuel wouldn’t be
found. Clint would stay at the Hotel California, as usual.

Next step was to contact the police there. He
had worked with them on several cases and had established a
reputation of being honest and practical as well as a person who
had a good slant on many things.

“
Fernando Harris D’Angona. A contact
name to identify him is Norman Donaldson from Atlanta, Georgia. I
don’t think they have any idea what name he’s using here. Something
about Emanuel would make him come out of the woodwork, so to
speak.”

Oscar Pinela nodded. “I think I know, within
ten people, who you seek. I don’t know why you think he would have
an accident if he’s located.”

“
There’s a long history of people
contacted by Emanuel who have fatal accidents within hours.” Clint
told him about a few.

“
And you say he isn’t responsible, that
he is being used?”

“
I’m fairly certain of it. I could be
wrong, but he’s a better actor than anyone in the flicks or on TV
if he’s doing any of it.”

He nodded again. “What kind of thing connects
the victims?”

“
Stolen art.”

“
Then it will be Rodrigo Lordes,
Francisco Dariez, Flaco Gorda, or Jorge Maestro. They are the only
ones who are rich enough or who have the necessary contacts to
locate such things. They are the only ones using an alias here. We
watch such people without letting them know we are aware they are
not who their identification says they are.”

“
Flaco Gorda?” (“Skinny
Fat?”)

He shrugged.

Clint found the places he might run into the
four and went out. The closest place was the Rosa de la Noche, a
legal house of prostitution. Francisco Dariez often came in, but
after eight at night.

The Top Place Billiares # something-or-other
was next. Rodrigo Lordes was playing eight ball for a dollar a
ball. Clint bought in and played a couple of games, winning four
dollars on one and seven on the next. He mentioned a person named
Norman Donaldson, in Atlanta, Georgia, knew some people who played
pool very well here. He told Clint about it a while before Clint
moved to Panamá.

“
I think I do not play pool so very
well!” he cried.

“
Oh, I know the game. Norm said I’d
find a challenge here. You’re a lot better than most. I just sort
of have a natural talent for it.”

He grinned and bought them both beers. He
said he knew the hustling game. Clint was good at it.

“
Got to eat!” Clint agreed. He laughed
and said playing against Clint was a good way to end up
starving.

The next place was dominoes, which Clint
wasn’t at all good at. He watched them play for a few minutes and
stood at the bar when Flaco Gorda came to get another beer. He
wasn’t flaco (skinny) or gordo (fat). He was fairly well
constructed in a slightly less than bullish way.

Clint asked if he knew anyone in the states.
Georgia.

“
A couple,” he replied in very good
English. “I spent two years there. Came home last year. You can
have the states.”

“
I thought I saw you there! You were
with that Norman character!”

“
Norm Donaldson? He’s, as you say
there, quite the trip, isn’t he?”

“
Good for business contacts, though,”
Clint said.

He got a studied look, then a small grin. “I
would never figure you for the type who collects antiques.”

“
I work for someone who does. I
couldn’t care less about art. Take a photo of anything with a ten
megapixel camera and save the canvas and paint. Lasts forever and
doesn’t fade and chip so you gotta spend a grand having it cleaned.
Print out fifty copies anytime you want.”

He laughed. “You can’t get the handwork that
way, but I agree. Spend the dough on something you like. It’s
investment. Something for the grandkids.”

“
That’s about as soon as you can cash
in that CD!”

He laughed again and said he had to get back
in the game. His luck was about to change. He could always feel
it.

So. He was as good as Emanuel for locating
these people. He would contact Manolo and get the next on the
list.. According to Emanuel they said there were about ten people
who needed their attention. Emanuel was getting a bit turned off by
these people and the way they were using him.

He went back to the hotel and told Emanuel to
e-mail Veronica and tell her D’Angona was using the name Flaco
Gorda and was a deeply troubled soul who hid his shame behind a
facade of what looked like a somewhat swollen ego.

“
He will be safe?”

Clint shrugged. He said it was likely he
would be protected, but he wasn’t responsible for what happened to
those people. They knew the rules when they forced themselves into
the game.

Emanuel looked worried. Clint said the object
of the locating was taken away, but no one knew that. He was fairly
certain there was plenty of time to make Flaco Gordo reasonably
safe from anything except the law. He was a dealer in stolen
property.