When the Singing Stops (46 page)

Connor's jaw dropped slightly. ‘Who told you that?'

‘Lady Annabel.'

‘Could she prove it? I mean he doesn't exactly have it on his business card.'

‘She can't prove it,' replied Madi, a little miffed at Connor's doubt. ‘It's her conclusion, based on the way he is always around in the right places with the right people.'

Connor took time to sip his drink, then sat down on a cane chair and twiddled his glass thoughtfully. ‘If she's right, what's at the top of his agenda? He's put up some money to help sponsor this national think-tank forum up at New Spirit in a couple of weeks.'

Madi was curious. ‘What will the think-tank think about? Who's going?'

‘I got an invitation to represent the IFO today. Pieter and Xavier will be there. I'm surprised they didn't mention it to you.'

‘They did say they were tabling my eco
tourism paper at a meeting, but it went right over my head at the time. Who issued the invitation?'

‘Colonel Olivera. He's chairing the show. Sort of a neutral chair. Reps of all the big companies, government departments, and leaders of the major ethnic groups in Guyana will be there. It's to work out directions and make recommendations to the government on ways to tackle the current crisis of confidence in the country. Nut out some compromises, get new projects launched and, as is the way in Guyana, swing some deals behind closed doors.'

The news stunned Madi. Suddenly the whole picture became clear and she recognised the message that Xavier was signalling to her earlier that day. It was a realisation almost beyond belief. Xavier was prepared to accept compromise, and perhaps even co-operate with the very people who were now running Guyana into the ground.

‘What sort of recommendations do you expect to emerge?'

‘There's talk of setting up a vast forest reserve as a national park, with Amerindian involvement. The trade-off, I guess, will be more licences for forest harvesting. There'll be statements about greater environmental controls on loggers and miners—the international bankers with their new enviro-policies will be demanding that, as well as Xavier's mob. There's talk of greater representation of the views of the minority groups too.'

Madi was incensed. ‘It's a sell-out, a damned sell-out,' she said rigidly, feeling the rage surge in her chest. ‘I can't believe it. And you seem so relaxed about going along with it. It even looks like the whole thing has been organised on the quiet by the CIA.'

‘That's over the top, Madi. Pressure for change has been building up here for a long time.'

Madi rounded on Connor, seething with anger. ‘You're talking as if it's all wonderful.'

‘Madi,' pleaded Connor, ‘please calm down.' He stood up to go to her, but she put out her hand in a traffic-stopping gesture.

‘Don't touch me, Connor. I'm so mad I could throw something. Can you understand how wrong it is that the future is being worked out by spooks and corrupt officials, sitting around a table with other powerbrokers. The whole thing made to look as if It's respectable and worthy. It makes me sick.'

Connor tried to be soothing. ‘You have to be part of the system to change it, Madi. It's the way of the world, darling. Even if you're idealistic, like Xavier, you have to divert the current in your direction. Bend like the bamboo, but stay strong.'

‘But It's a betrayal of the Amerindians.'

‘That may be how it looks to you. But later, they may see he has made great gains for them. It's a matter of perception.'

Madi slumped back in her chair and buried her face in her hands.

Connor reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder.

She looked up, and gave a weak smile in acknowledgment of his gesture. ‘It's hard to stomach really. It was just that I saw Xavier as a saviour of this country. Why couldn't he be strong and stand alone?'

‘Because, sweet love, he couldn't win by standing alone. That's why. The system is stacked against those who stand alone.'

Madi took a deep breath. ‘When is this conference going to be made public?'

‘Tomorrow, I understand. There'll be a joint statement by Olivera, Xavier, and the Prime Minister. At the Pessaro.'

‘At the Pessaro,' she repeated with resignation. ‘That's the final irony. Now I know why Xavier called off the rally. It wasn't because of the Bacchus death. The conference deal had already been set up.'

‘Madi, don't be so angry. All these people coming together at New Spirit realise as individuals they can try to influence matters. So each person will push his own agenda and it will be a consensus at the end of the day. Give a little, take a little. It's how the world works, Madi.'

‘I don't agree with it. That's why there are still good, honest idealists who will fight on to make the world a better, safer, cleaner place. The sort of people who care about little gold frogs at the top of a waterfall.' Her voice was starting to rise.

As much as it hurt, Madi now understood more clearly why Xavier had ended up this way. In a revealing flash she saw that she too had been making a journey, but hers had been without compromise.

‘I need some time to myself. I'm going out for awhile. I'll probably call in and see Matt. Don't wait up.' She spoke in a resigned calm voice and went to get her handbag and picked up Connor's car keys.

‘I won't stop you, Madi. I understand this isn't the happy ending you envisaged. But then nothing in life is predictable in any way. Circumstances change and we have to adjust to them.' He sounded tired.

Madi drove down to the seawall. She parked the car and walked over to the low stone barrier that held back the Atlantic Ocean. Further down, a courting couple leaned against the wall, arms wrapped about each other. The breeze was fresh but it still carried the special tang of mud, salt and rotting vegetation. The tide was in and slapped gently below in the darkness.

Madi peered over but could see little. She'd always meant to come down at low tide with Lester, who liked to dig for antique bottles that had been kept intact in the inky mud since colonial days. Lester sold the odd-shaped heavy blue, green, black and clear bottles to the gift shop in the Pessaro. Now she'd have to buy one
before she left, not as much fun as digging up your own.

As she stood there in the faint moonlight it dawned on Madi that she had subconsciously begun to think of final things to do. As if she was leaving soon. And she realised she had made the decision without being fully aware of it. Madi thought back to a passage in Gwen's book that she'd written before leaving Guyana. It had touched Madi because it was just how she felt.

‘I am glad there are still secret remote places on this overcrowded earth where the fairies and spirits take refuge, where the boulders move mysteriously, the forests are enchanted, the trees sing to each other, and the rivers flow living gold. I am thankful that I shall never see that dreadful day when science has solved all mysteries and the scar of civilisation has defaced every acre of wilderness.'

Madi looked up as a dark-coloured family sedan pulled in at the end of the seawall. To her surprise Antonio Destra climbed out of the driver's seat, gave a slight wave and walked towards her. He was grinning and she was reminded of the cheery and helpful companion she'd first met at the airport while waiting for the painfully slow immigration officer to process their papers.

His introduction to his wife, his offer for her to stay the night with them rather than face the risks of Georgetown alone, had immediately put
her at ease. She'd liked his friendly manner and her instinct had been to trust him.

Then she remembered how his behaviour in the following weeks had confused her—like the time she'd seen him at the Amerindian hostel, then he'd later denied being there. Could Lady Annabel be right? Could he really be working for the CIA?

‘I followed you from Bain's house,' Destra said, leaning in his relaxed way against the seawall beside Madi as if it were perfectly natural for the two of them to be together in this isolated spot at night.

Destra lit a cigarette. ‘It's time you and I had a little talk about life, and particularly life in good ole Guyana.'

‘Good ole Guyana, as you call it, does not appear too conducive to a good ole long life,' Madi said. ‘Since I've been here, I've witnessed too many killings and almost been killed myself. I don't know what your role in this country is really all about, Antonio, but I do know you've been mixed up in these killings. In fact, I don't know why I'm standing here talking to you.'

Destra gave a casual shrug. ‘Madi, I'm not here to harm you. I'm here to give you an explanation that I really should not be giving you at all. But it involves you. You're an intelligent woman and I'm hoping that when you hear what I have to say, you'll decide to leave Guyana for awhile. At least until life here can get back to normal, or what passes as normal in Guyana.'

‘Is that a friend's advice or a threat?'

‘I'm your friend, Madison.'

She looked silently across the water, then turned back to Destra, her eyes reflecting her irritation.

‘Then tell me why Ernesto St Kitt had to die. You were with those people using drugs at New Spirit that night.'

‘I was. And if I'd not allowed myself to be distracted by that, St Kitt might be alive today. But I was keen to see which government officials were part of that particular little group. St Kitt had been invited but he'd flatly refused to join in. He was disgusted and he stalked off in the direction of the path by the river. It gave Bacchus' hit-man the perfect opportunity he'd been waiting for—to remove Ernesto completely.'

‘But why?'

‘St Kitt was determined to dig out the past performances of the El Dorado company which had been ripping money out of organisations in Guyana for years. Your brother's mine, Guyminco, was only one of many companies paying Bacchus bribes to break through government red tape.'

Now Destra had Madi's full attention. ‘All that had to change when El Dorado decided to go for the biggest prize of all, the licence for the Amazonia Casino. To own the casino licence, Bacchus and his company had to be lily white, pure as angels.'

Destra paused to light another cigarette then
continued. ‘Bacchus had his front as a respectable banker, but too many government files and officials were witness to the company's strange dealings in the past. All that had to be dealt with. And it was . . . until St Kitt started nosing around.'

‘So that's why he was murdered and that's why the official line was that he had overdosed on drugs?'

‘El Dorado's problems would have been solved then, except you and your friend Bain stumbled on Mr Rashid Bacchus' logging operations in the forest. A very foolish move if you don't mind me saying so . . . You were very lucky to escape.'

‘We may have escaped that but there have been two attempts on my life and one on Connor's since then.'

‘Because the information you have on Bacchus could still have stopped him from getting the casino licence. He couldn't afford to let you live.'

‘But why did you kill him? I know you were involved. You had that man made up to look like an Amerindian in the Carnivale parade. And you were there to make sure he got away.'

‘You amaze me, Madi. You always seem to have more information than you should have. But yes, we decided he should dress as an Amerindian because the facepaint and the headdress would make an effective disguise.'

‘But why did you kill Bacchus?'

Destra looked at Madi and a tiny smile formed around his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Madi, my dear, you still don't understand, do you?'

‘You mean because of me? Bacchus died because of me?'

‘It is certainly not my duty to act as the white knight to save beautiful damsels in distress. But Madi, it was him or you. And wherever you went you would still have been in danger. Bacchus could not afford to lose that licence. And the slightest whiff of scandal associated with any company running a casino is enough these days to scare off the big gamblers. They want a fair chance and they avoid casinos run by crooked operators. ‘And,' said Destra quietly, ‘I will admit it served my purposes to have Bacchus out of the way. He was getting sloppy. That drug-packing operation in the forest so close to an Amerindian village was just plain stupid. And those attempts on your life later were signs of a man panicking. Can you imagine how the world spotlight would have fallen on Guyana if a beautiful blonde European woman had been murdered here?'

Madi shivered at the thought. Then she realised there could be another advantage gained from the death of the corrupt banker. ‘So now the casino won't go ahead?' she asked.

Destra flicked his cigarette butt over the seawall. ‘Olivera who works with me has already taken over as head of El Dorado and he'll get
the licence up with no problems. Amazonia
is
going to happen, Madi. The hefty tax from gambling revenue will help keep this government in business.'

Madi shook her head in resignation. ‘I really think It's wrong.' She glanced at Destra. ‘Why are you involved?'

‘Because my job is to make sure Guyana keeps surviving under a democratic government, to make sure the socialists, and their Cuban allies, never get into power again.'

‘So you do work for the CIA?'

‘Let's just say my brief is to watch that emerging countries like Guyana keep moving in the right direction.' He turned back to face the sea. ‘As you have already learnt, nothing is ever what it seems on the surface. I wanted you to know the facts before you decide what you will do next.'

‘I've already made my decision, Antonio.'

A silence settled between them and Madison had difficulty controlling her turmoil of emotions. When she finally spoke there was a tremor in her voice. ‘And what about the dreamers, Antonio? The dreamers of a better world?'