Last Light (12 page)

Now and again I caught sight of his tanned, hairless legs. They were muscular and scratched around the calves, and the soles of his feet were covered by old leather Jesus sandals, not the more usual sports ones. This wasn't holiday attire, that was for sure. He looked more like a farmhand or hippie throwback than any kind of doctor.

As I watched and tuned in, Tiger Lil burst into the hall, heaving an enormous squeaky-wheeled suitcase behind her. She screamed in unison with two equally large black women as they jumped all over each other, kissing and cuddling.

The arrivals area was packed with food and drink stalls, all producing their own smells that bounced off the low ceiling and had nowhere to escape to. Brightly dressed Latinos, blacks, whites and Chinese all clamoured to outdo each other in the loudest shout competition. My guess was that Aaron would lose that as well as the keep-your-place-in-the-crowd contest. He was still bobbing around like a cork on a stormy sea.

The air-conditioning might have been working, but not well enough to handle the heat of so many bodies. The stone floor was wet with condensation, as if it had just been mopped, and the bottom foot or so of the glass wall was fogged with moisture. The heat was already getting to me. I felt sweat leak from my greasy skin and my eyes were stinging. Taking off my jacket, I leant against the glass once more, my clammy arm sticking to my sweatshirt.

A group of five stony-faced policemen hovered about in severely pressed khaki trousers and badge-festooned, short-sleeved shirts. They looked very macho with their hands resting on their holstered pistols and feet tapping in black patent leather shoes. Apart from that, the only things moving were their peaked hats as they checked out three tight-jeaned and high heeled Latino women passing by

Sitting on a bench to the left of the policemen was the only person here who wasn't sweating and out of control. A thirty something white woman, she looked like GI Jane, with short hair, green fatigue cargos and a baggy grey vest that came high up her neck. She still had her sunglasses on and her hands were wrapped around a can of Pepsi.

Two things struck me as I looked around the hall. The first was that virtually everybody seemed to have a mobile on their belt or in their hand. The other was the men's shirts. Like the police uniforms, they were dramatically pressed and the arm crease went all the way over the shoulder and up to the collar. Maybe there was only one laundry in town.

After about a quarter of an hour the crowd was thinning as the last of the loved ones trickled through and the taxi fares got picked up. Calm descended, but probably only until the next flight arrived.

Aaron was now in my direct line of sight, standing with the remaining few still waiting at the barrier. Under his dirty waistcoat he had a faded blue T-shirt with some barely readable Spanish on the front. I watched as he held up his card to the last few passengers, even leaning over the barrier, straining to read the flight numbers on their luggage tags.

It was now time to cut away from everything else going on in my head except work, the mission. I hated that word, it sounded far too Army, but I was going to use it to keep my head where it should be.

I had one last check around the hall for anything unusual, then realized that everything I saw fell into that category: the whole arrivals area looked like a dodgy-characters convention. I started my approach.

I must have been about three steps away from his back as he thrust his card under the nose of an American business suit pulling his bag on wheels behind him.

"Mr. Yanklewitz?"

He spun round, holding the card against his chest like a schoolboy in show-and tell He had bloodshot but very blue eyes, sunk into deep crow's feet.

I was supposed to let him initiate conversation with a story that involved a number, something like, "Oh, I hear you have ten bags with you?" to which I would say, "No, I have three', that sort of thing. But I really couldn't be bothered: I was hot, tired, and I wanted to get on.

"Seven."

"Oh, that would make me six then, I guess." He sounded a little disappointed. He'd probably been working on his story all morning. |l I smiled. There was an expectant pause: I was waiting for him to tell me what to do next.

"Er, OK, shall we go, then?" His accent was soft, educated American.

"Unless of course you want to-' I don't want to do anything, apart from go with you."

"OK. Please, this way."

We started towards the exit and I fell into step on his left. He folded the card as he went, moving faster than I'd have liked. I didn't want us looking unnatural but, then, what was I worrying about in this madhouse?

On the other side of the automatic exit doors was the service road for drop-offs and pick-ups. Beyond that was the car park, and in the distance, under a brilliant blue sky, were lush green rugged mountains. Out there was virgin ground to me, and unless I had no choice, I never liked entering the unknown with out having a look first.

"Where are we going?"

I was still checking out the car park. I didn't know if he was looking at me or not as he answered, in a very low voice, "That kinda depends on, er ... my wife is-' That's Carrie, right?"

'Yes, Carrie."

I'd forgotten to introduce myself.

"Do you know my name?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head turn towards me, so I turned as well. His blue eyes seemed jumpy, and focused slightly to one side of mine.

"No, but if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Whatever you feel safe with, whatever is best for you."

He didn't look scared, but was definitely ill-at-ease. Maybe he could smell the fuck-up value on me.

I stopped and held out my hand.

"Nick." Better to be friendly to the help rather than alienate them: you get better results that way. It was a small lesson the Yes Man could have done with taking on board.

There was an embarrassed smile from him, displaying a not-too-good set of teeth, discoloured by too much coffee or tobacco. He held out his hand.

"Aaron. Pleased to meet you, Nick."

It was a very large hand with hard skin, but the handshake was gentle. Small scars covered its surface; he was no pen-pusher. His nails were dirty and jagged, and there was a dull gold wedding band and a multicoloured kids' Swatch on his left.

"Well, Aaron, as you can see, I haven't packed for a long stay. I'll just get my job done and be out of the way by Friday. I'll try not to be a pain in the arse while I'm here. How does that sound?"

His embarrassed grin gave me the feeling that it sounded good on both counts.

Still, he was generous in his reply.

"Hey, no problem. You did kinda throw me, you know. I wasn't expecting an English guy."

I smiled and leant forward to tell him a secret.

"Actually I'm American, it's a disguise."

There was a pause as he searched my eyes.

"Joke, right?"

I nodded, hoping it would break the ice a bit.

"I was expecting to see Carrie as well."

He pointed behind me.

"She's right here."

I turned to see GI Jane approaching us. She greeted me with a smile and an out thrust hand.

"Hi, I'm Carrie."

Her hair was dark, cut into the nape of her neck. She was maybe mid- to late thirties just a few years younger than me. There were a few lines coming from behind the lenses of her dark glasses, and small creases in the side of her mouth as she spoke.

I shook her firm hand.

"I'm Nick. Finished your Pepsi, then?" I didn't know if she'd seen me waiting, not that it really mattered.

"Sure, it was good." Her manner was brisk, sort of aggressive, and wouldn't have been out of place on Wall Street. Like Aaron's, her voice was educated but then, anyone who pronounced their aitches sounded educated to me.

She stood by Aaron and they certainly made an unusual pair. Maybe I'd got this wrong. Maybe they were father and daughter. He had a slight pot belly and showed his age; she had a body that was well toned and looked after.

People poured in and out. The sound of aircraft and a gust of heat enveloped us each time the doors slid open.

Carrie shrugged.

"What happens now?"

They were waiting for instructions.

"You haven't done this before, have you?"

Aaron shook his head.

"First time. All we know is that we pick you up and you tell us the rest."

"OK do you have any imagery yet?"

She nodded.

"It's satellite, I pulled it off the web last night. It's at the house."

"How far away is that?"

"If the rain holds off, four hours maybe. If not, anything over five. We're talking boondocks."

"How far to the other guy's house?"

"An hour thirty from here, maybe two. It's the other side of the city it's in the boonies, too."

I'd like to see his place first, then back to yours. Will I be able to get close enough to have a good look?"

There wasn't enough time to spend maybe ten hours on the road, or even prepare myself for a day under the canopy. I'd have to get on and do the CTR of the house first, since it was so close, and then, on the way back to their place, get planning what I was going to do next, and how.

She nodded, confirming with Aaron at the same time.

"Sure, but like I said, it's in the forest." She turned to Aaron.

"You know what? I'll go pick up Luce from the dentist and meet you two at home."

There was a pause as if there was more to say, as if she expected me to pick up on what she'd said. But I didn't care that much who Luce was. It wasn't important at the moment, and I was sure to be told soon anyway.

"Ready when you are."

We headed outside and into the oppressive heat. I screwed up my eyes against the sun, which burned straight through the cheap acrylic of my sweatshirt on my shoulders and the back of my neck.

She walked the other side of Aaron. There was no wedding ring, no watch or any other jewellery on either of her hands. Her hair was beyond dark, it was jet black, and her skin was only lightly tanned, not dark and leathery like Aaron's.

Her armpits were shaved and, for some reason, I wouldn't have expected that.

Maybe I'd been harbouring images of New Age travellers from the moment I saw Aaron.

The service road was jammed with mini-buses, taxis and cars dropping off passengers, with porters hustling the drop-offs for business. The noise was just as loud out here as it had been in the hall, with vehicle horns sounding off and taxi drivers arguing over parking spaces.

The dazzling sunshine felt as if I had a searchlight pointed straight into my eyes. I squinted like a mole and looked down as they started to feel gritty.

Aaron pulled a pair of John Lennon sunglasses from a pocket of his waistcoat and put them on as he pointed to our half right.

"We're over here."

We crossed the road to what might have been a parking lot in any US shopping mall. Japanese and American SUVs were lined up alongside saloons and people carriers and none of them looked more than one or two years old. It surprised me: I'd been expecting worse.

Carrie broke away from us and headed towards the other side of the car park.

"See you both later."

I nodded goodbye. Aaron didn't say a word, just nodded with me.

The ground was wet with rain and sunlight glinted off the tarmac. My eyes were still half closed when we reached a blue, rusty, mud-covered Mazda pickup.

This is us."

This was more what I'd been expecting. It had a double cab, with an equally old fibreglass Bac Pac cover over the rear that turned it into a van. The sheen of the paintwork had been burned off long ago by tropical heat. Aaron was already inside, leaning over to open my door.

It was like climbing into an oven. The sun had been beating down on the windscreen and it was so hot inside it was hard to breathe. I was just pleased that there was an old blanket draped over the seats to protect us from the almost molten PVC upholstery, though the heat was still doing the business.

A floating ball compass was stuck to the windscreen, and fixed to the dash was a small open can half filled with green liquid. Judging by the picture of flowers on the label it had been air-freshener in a previous life.

"Will you excuse me, Nick? I need a moment. Won't be long."

I kept my door open, trying to let some air in as he closed his and disappeared behind the Mazda.

It had only been a hundred metres from the terminal building but I was already sweating. My jeans stuck to my thighs and a bead of sweat rolled down the bridge of my nose and added to the misery. At least the air-conditioning would kick in when he started the engine.

I caught four Aarons and Carries in the broken wing mirror, and standing next to her, four wagons. It was also a pickup, but a much older style than the Mazda, maybe an old Chevy, with a rounded bonnet and wings and a flatbed that had wooden slats up the sides, the sort of thing you'd transport livestock in. They were arguing as they stood by the opened driver's door. She waved her hands in the air and Aaron kept shaking his head at her.

I changed view and looked out at the green mountains in the distance and thought of the months I'd spent living in that stuff, and waited for them to finish as a jet-lagged headache started to brew.

A minute or two later he jumped into the cab as if nothing had happened.

"Sorry about that, Nick, just some things I needed from the store."

By the way she'd reacted they must have been pretty expensive. I nodded as if I hadn't seen a thing, we closed our doors and he started up.

Having kept my window closed to help the air-conditioner spark up, I saw Aaron frantically winding his down as he manoeuvred out of the parking space, using just his fingertips to steer as the wheel must have been hot enough to peel skin. He sounded almost apologetic.

"You need to belt up. They're pretty tough on that round here."

Glancing at my closed window he added, "Sorry, no air."

I wound it down and both of us gingerly fastened belt buckles as hot as a tumble-dried coin. There was no sign of Carrie as we drove out of the car park;