Dancing in the Baron's Shadow (9 page)

“I'm on my way to the airport,” Georges mumbled. “I'm just packing clothes. I hope you are too, Eve, though I imagine you have a more stealthy plan for escape than the airport.”

Eve shook her head. “I can't abandon him, Georges.”

Georges stared at her in disbelief.

“Earlier,” she pressed him, “you wouldn't even listen to me on the phone.”

A vein bulged on his forehead.

“The telephone is not a good idea,” Georges spat, slamming a drawer shut. “By now, given your husband's work, I presume you know about phone tapping—”

“We need your help,” Raymond snapped. “Can you do something? They found some of his writing and—”

“I have nothing to do with this,” Georges said. “We were clear with Nicolas that this project was unwise, that he was risking his life. And now look at us.”

Georges walked around the bed. He dragged a suitcase from the corner and stuffed a few gourdes in his pocket.

“Georges,” Eve cried out, “you must know someone at the Ministry of—”

“What do you think is happening here? Do you think that your husband can write this book and not face the consequences?”

“You can help us, I know you can. Please, appeal on his behalf?”

“I am only the secretary,” Georges said, pulling out a passport. He leafed through it before tucking it back in his pocket. “And if I am lucky, I will be a refugee by this evening.”

Raymond noticed his hands shaking.

“What you need is a judge. Talk to Jean-Jean,” Georges added, a little desperately.

“He won't help us,” Raymond said. “Both of you are turning your backs on Nicolas, on his family. But when he was passing out cigars and sweet cakes, you were first in line, weren't you?”

Georges turned to look at Eve and then Raymond. His breathing had grown shallow. He stepped closer to Raymond, just a few inches away from his face.

“How dare you insinuate such things?” Georges growled. “Nicolas was my friend.”

“Is he still?” Eve asked, a dangerous fire in her eyes.

Georges sighed, looked down at his gray shoes.

“No, Eve.” He shook his head. “How can he be? He may be your husband, but he is as good as dead. And look at us. He has forced us to run.”

“After all Nicolas has done for you? My God, Georges, he got you out of trouble when that girl's family accused you. Have you already forgotten? It was Nicolas who defended you, who consoled your wife—”

“That never happened!” Georges's eyes widened. “I never touched that girl.”

“He fought for you in court,” Eve said, brandishing Amélie. “When your wife died and people said horrible things about you, Nicolas stood up for you—”

“Damn it, Eve, this isn't personal,” Georges shouted. “I need to leave now and hope like hell that they don't stop me at the airport. I don't know what you want me to do.”

“Can you bribe someone?” Raymond asked.

“All my money's tied up abroad right now,” he said, shaking his head in protest. “I have kids in college overseas. Once I am free, I will advocate for Nicolas's freedom every day. I will fight for him.”

Georges lowered his eyes and squeezed them shut. When he opened them, he produced his wallet and pulled out some bills. He counted them, one by one, and handed them to Raymond instead of Eve. Raymond took the money without a word.

“That's all I can do, one hundred,” Georges said.

Raymond's eyes widened. One hundred gourdes was more than he'd ever had in his wallet at once. The amount could pay his children's tuition for four months.

“Take that money to Casernes Dessalines, ask to see Adjudant Joseph. He never says no to money.”

Without another word, Georges grabbed his suitcase and walked out. He didn't look back. Raymond stared at the crisp bills in his hands, nothing like the used, crumpled ones he tried to smooth out in his taxi at the end of each day.

Through an open window, the birds sounded loud, almost angry, as the engine of Georges Phenicié's Citroën roared to life. Raymond suddenly felt all the anger and indignation toward Nicolas's friends leave his body. In its place was pity. His brother had caused all of this, and there was nothing these sad, old men could do.

Raymond couldn't figure out what it was about Adjudant Joseph that made him uneasy. Although he looked young and strong, he nonetheless struck Raymond as a man who did very little real work in his life.

When they walked in, Adjudant Joseph was sitting back in his chair, laughing on the telephone with his feet up on his desk. He and Eve stood together before him awkwardly, wondering whether to sit or stand. The officer made no sign of acknowledgment, just continued his conversation as if he were alone.

“Don't worry, my friend,” Adjudant Joseph said, his eyes wandering over the view out his window. “I've got you covered. Bill me by head count, I'm good for it.”

Raymond considered his perfectly manicured nails, his starched collar, and his freshly shined boots.

“You know me, I like things quiet. No one needs to worry about it.”

Finally, Adjudant Joseph caught a glimpse of Eve. He undressed her with his eyes, tracking the contours of her figure, lingering on her chest and her hips. Eve switched her daughter to her other hip as if to remind him of the other realities attached to her body.
After ten more minutes of cryptic conversation, he hung up and rested his hands on the desk, fingers interlaced.

“How can I help you?”

Raymond swallowed with difficulty. Before he could open his mouth, Eve spoke up.

“Adjudant, please, I'm here to beg for any information you may have on my husband. He was taken in the middle of the night from his home in Turgeau. They said they were bringing him here. We deserve to know on what grounds he is being held.”

“Grounds?”

“Yes,” Eve said. “Please, he's innocent. What has he done? He hasn't harmed anyone.”

“Madame, if he was arrested, surely there must have been a reason,” the officer said, his eyes flirtatious, his tone coy, as if this were a pickup line in a nightclub.

“His name is Nicolas L'Eveillé,” Raymond cut in. “He's my brother. A good man, a father.”

Adjudant Joseph looked over in irritation and noticed Raymond, it seemed, for the first time. He shook his head in contempt. “I don't recall…”

“If you look at your files, you'll see,” Raymond said, digging through his pockets. “He was probably brought here this morning, early, at dawn. Adjudant, please, we were told you are powerful, that you can help us. You're a good man, that's what Georges Phenicié said. He said you call the shots around here.”

Raymond pulled out the roll of gourdes that Georges had given him. He'd added his own cash to the pile on the drive over. His dirty bills stuck together, and he hid them under Georges's crisp new ones. He knew the officer was watching him. His hands trembled slightly as he folded up the money into a wad and held it out.

“Will you help us?” Raymond asked.

Adjudant Joseph stared at the money for a moment, then glanced at the door. He reached for the bills and took them, counting the money before stuffing it in his pocket. He then opened a drawer and pulled out a folder. He flipped through papers. For a moment,
all was still except for the sound his fingers made as he skimmed through files. Raymond glanced over at Eve, but she didn't look at him. Biting her lip, she reached for the gold medallion around her neck, a heart with an embossed portrait of the Virgin Mary, and held it against her lips.

“L'Eveillé, yes!” Adjudant Joseph ran his finger over the black lettering. Raymond could see an official stamp on the header, the familiar effigy of palm trees and bayonets, and a signature scribbled at the bottom of the page. “Ah, yes, I remember now. He was brought here on very serious charges. Treason.”

“Treason?” Eve shook her head. Her black curls bounced with the movement. She cradled Amélie with both arms. “My husband is no traitor. He's a good man, a citizen, a professor, and he's well respected. He didn't commit any crime.”

“Adjudant, we will be forever in your debt if you help us,” Raymond said. “I can chauffeur you any time you want, any where you like. You name it. I'm your man. No one knows Port-au-Prince like I do. I'm a good cabbie.”

Adjudant Joseph silenced Raymond with a crude gesture. Eve fell into the chair behind her.

“Can I see him?” Eve ventured. “I just want to hear his voice.”

Adjudant Joseph grabbed his phone again and dialed a number. Raymond's lips moved in silent prayer, but every word was hollow in his heart. Prayer meant nothing since he'd lost his family.

Adjudant Joseph waited on the line. His eye wandered lazily back to Eve, who was still seated, exhausted. Raymond reached for her hand.
We've made a mistake,
he thought.
We've walked into the lion's den, stupidly claiming attachment to a prisoner who's been arrested for treason.
And yet beyond this office there were cells and locked doors, and Nicolas might be behind one of them. Raymond hoped to at least see him, speak to him, try to come up with a plan before he was transferred to Fort Dimanche. Raymond knew he must do everything in his power to free his younger brother.

“Yes, Nicolas L'Eveillé, case number 203786. Scheduled for Fort Dimanche. Has the truck left yet?”

Raymond saw Eve sit up, her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. Adjudant Joseph listened, nodded, and grunted, “
Oui, merci,”
before hanging up. He stared at Eve and Raymond.

“He's already been transferred to Fort Dimanche,” he said. “Nothing I can do.”

“No,” Eve moaned in her chair before dropping her head in despair.

Raymond stepped closer to the desk, cautious to not touch anything. “There must be something you can do?”

The officer was watching Eve wipe tears from her eyes. Raymond noticed a sly smile forming on his lips. Amélie, unhappy with her mother's tears, began to wail.

“You know? It's such a funny coincidence!” the
adjudant
said, brightening suddenly. “I was once a student of your husband's!” He nodded eagerly at Eve, whose eyes widened in fear.

Raymond glared in disgust at how the man was playing them. His anger was nearly blinding, and he imagined smashing his fist repeatedly into his face.

“Yes!” Adjudant Joseph went on. “And would you believe that my brother Philippe is, or I should say was, attending a lecture course by Maître L'Eveillé this very term! So you see, it turns out we have a lot in common.”

Raymond and Eve gaped at the young man.

“Perhaps,” he drawled, shifting in his chair, “there is another way. Perhaps, if madame would care to add something extra to the package, I might be able to do something after all. Perhaps I could arrange a private visit to Fort Dimanche.”

Eve stared in horror. Raymond trembled in anger. He spun on his heel, grabbed the child from Eve, and gestured for her to stand up.

“
Pardon?”
Eve began, her eyes widening. “Do you not understand that I'm here for my husband? I'm a married woman. How dare you!”

Raymond took her by the wrist, pulled her up gently, and moved them both quickly toward the door.

“My husband is not a criminal!” she shouted.

“
Merci, mon adjudant,”
Raymond mumbled, nodding with false gratitude. “You've been most kind. Thank you.”

As quickly as they'd received the gourdes, they were gone. And for nothing. Raymond guided Eve through the dark hallway by the wrist, carrying Amélie in the other arm. He sped down the stairs so she wouldn't hear the tormented moans and grunts of prisoners shackled inside the cells. Eve was mumbling something, but he dragged her toward the car. He opened the back door to let her in, but she planted her feet in the ground, stubborn, grief stricken, sobbing.

“Eve, get in the car! We have to go.”

She let her head drop and cried softly. Raymond tucked the child inside the car and squinted back toward the building. Someone was standing at the window in Adjudant Joseph's office, staring right at them. Raymond felt a pang in his stomach, as he had in his taxi just days ago when he rescued that reporter in Cité Simone. There was danger all around them. Coming here had been a grave mistake. The Macoutes hadn't found Eve that night of the arrest, and now for her and Raymond to walk right into the prison was madness. They might take them away any minute now, the baby included.

“Eve, we can't stay here,” Raymond repeated. “We need to go. Now.”

“I can't. I won't leave him, Raymond.”

The heat, the despair, the fear—all of it had begun to take a toll, and she was coming undone. “I can't abandon my husband,” she said. “Everyone else has.”

“We can't help him like this,” Raymond said. “Get in the car, now! I don't trust this
adjudant
.”

Raymond pressed his hand against her back, but she pushed his hand away.

“I'm not leaving,” she said. “I am not leaving him.”

“He's not here!” Raymond shouted, seizing her wrist.

He squeezed harder, feeling her bones under his grip. She gasped and stared at him in pain and shock.

“You can stand here all day and night crying if you want, and he still won't be returned to you. He's been transferred. You can't help him now. Not like this.”

“Everyone's forsaken him.” Eve pushed at the tears on her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Everyone.”

“I haven't,” Raymond said. “He's my brother. I didn't betray him, I never will. I will find him.” He squeezed her wrist more gently this time, and her sobs subsided.

“I will find him,” he repeated. “Trust me. But right now, I need you to get in the car, please. We have to get out of here before they come for us. For Amélie, Eve.”

Eve fell into the Renault like a broken bamboo stalk. The baby's babble cut through the silence of the car as her mother picked her up and sat her on her lap. Raymond shut the door, and when he got behind the wheel, he looked toward the entrance of the Casernes. Two men were standing in the doorway, staring at them. A third man stepped in between them: Adjudant Joseph. He said something to the men. Raymond scrambled for the ignition.