Chapter 3
Once they were settled aboard the VARIG 727 flight to Rio, Sandy could no longer control her urge to talk. They had packed quickly and rushed to the Caracas airport to just barely make the VARIG flight, but she couldn't help noticing that Guy had been quiet and withdrawn all the time.
"Guy, tell me a little about your business," she said after the hostess had served them cocktails. "I mean ... Well, I know so little about your company and what you do. And now that I'm ... well, sort of involved...."
"I know, Sandy," Guy responded with a smile. "You're wondering what the hell I'm into. So am I. You know that Maxwell is a munitions manufacturer. We make guns and ammunition. At one time, Maxwell was pretty big in the sporting weapons business, but now our business is fairly well limited to automatic weapons."
"Automatic? Machine guns?"
"The grandson of the machine gun, darling," he continued. "We call them automatic rifles, but for all practical purposes they're machine guns."
"Who do you sell them to? I mean, who uses machine guns."
"Let's call them automatic weapons, Sandy," he laughed. "The term machine gun is old-fashioned today. Today, a machine gun is a permanent installation, or at least semi-permanent. What we manufacture are hand weapons. Police use them, all sorts of security organizations, and some are used by the military."
"And guerrillas?" she asked.
"Well, yes, in the sense of a military guerrilla, he admitted. "I don't have anything to do with sales. Our sales are generally made by brokers, people who deal with the various organizations and order from us. We have a one-man sales force, and his job is to expedite orders and handle special shipping instructions. So far, I've been in inventory and purchasing. You see, sales come in large units. We might make only a dozen sales a year, but each sale is large. Sometimes we have five or six big orders go out in one thirty-day period. Then we'll go several months without shipping a thing. That makes inventory a critical thing for the company."
"Don't you manufacture the guns when you get an order?" she asked.
"If we did, things would be a lot easier, believe me! But our industry doesn't work on that basis. When customers order, they want the weapons as fast as possible. Oh, once in a while a police department will place an advance order for shipment when their budget comes through, but that's the exception and not the rule. We have to maintain huge inventories ready for shipment the minute we get orders."
"Is most of your business in the United States?"
"When Maxwell was in sporting weapons, all of their business was in the States. Now, most of our orders come from foreign countries. To be honest, there is a great deal more profit in the automatic-weapon business than there was in sporting weapons. We don't have the distributors and jobbers to deal with. I'm afraid the whole thing is sort of dull and unglamorous, Sandy. Hope I haven't disappointed you."
"Not at all," she said with a smile. "I had never pictured you as a James Bond type. It was just when all of this mysterious business about delivering an envelope to a man came up that I began to wonder if I had married a secret agent."
"No such luck," he laughed. "I'm afraid you're stuck with a dull businessman, darling. Believe me, this assignment is out of the ordinary. I'm as curious about it as you are."
"You don't think it's dangerous?" she asked.
"No, Mr. Maxwell would have warned me if there was any danger involved." Guy wondered if that was true. He remembered the man at the Caracas airport and his remark. "In our business I've learned to follow orders without asking too many questions, and Mr. Maxwell has always told me exactly what I needed to know. Munitions is a business with at best a marginal public image. The less people know, the less chance there is for idle conversation and misinterpretation."
"You sound like Nixon on Watergate," Sandy chided.
"Perhaps," he laughed. "Don't count any chickens yet, darling, but after only a few years with the company, your new husband may be up for a promotion to the top rank of the organization."
"How great!" Sandy said with sincere enthusiasm, gripping his arm tightly.
"Nothing sure," he said, holding her hand clasped to his arm. "I heard what I think were some very strong hints in that direction last week. That's why I'm so anxious to take care of this ridiculous assignment. John Brennan announced he's retiring. If I get his position, I'll be the number-two man in the company. And unless I miss my guess, that means almost double the salary and a number of stock options in the future."
"Oh, darling, that would be wonderful!" Sandy said, hoping that she had the proper enthusiasm in her voice. She knew that she couldn't tell him that none of that was truly important to her. Not nearly as important as starting their new life together properly. But all of this was so important to Guy! She was learning more about him, and Sandy was confused by what she learned. In the past month he had made her believe that she was the most important thing in his life. Were all brides this disillusioned on their honeymoon? Or was she being unreasonable and demanding too much?
Guy paid six dollars when the hostess came by with earphones for those who wanted to watch the movie in flight. Sandy tried to concentrate on the movie, a rather silly Western, but her mind wandered. She saw that Guy was watching with rapt attention and she felt a little guilty about observing him when he wasn't aware of her gaze.
She wondered what he would say when she told him about her problem with sex. She had started to on the plane, but she was too embarrassed and decided to wait until they were alone in the hotel that night. The thought Of having him make love to her again troubled her. Everything had seemed so terribly right when she decided to marry Guy, and now suddenly everything seemed to be going wrong! Sandy slipped the earphones from her head and dozed off into a light sleep.
The seven-hour flight ended on time and the approach to Rio was breathtakingly beautiful. The pilot banked and glided slowly over the Copacabana beach and by the Sugarloaf. Lights twinkled on the water like gems scattered on an indigo blanket.
"Isn't it gorgeous!" she exclaimed as they made their final leg on the landing. "I think I'm going to love Rio!"
"Maybe we'll spend our honeymoon here," Guy remarked, squeezing her hand fondly. He thought, but didn't add, if I find Mr. Jack Lockwood.
Once they had cleared customs and immigration, Guy made arrangements for a car and driver. It was expensive, but he knew that he would need an English-speaking guide and it made sense to hire one right away instead of taking a taxi into the city. Besides, the company was paying for all the expenses. The guide's name was Pepe, and he was a heavy-set, middle-aged mulatto with a gold tooth that sparkled every time he smiled. He had the dissipated look of guides the world over, but his eyes were alert.
"And what hotel will you be staying at, sir?" Pepe asked.
"We don't know," Guy replied. "We don't have reservations. What do you recommend?"
"Is price important, sir?" Pepe asked.
Guy was about to remark that he would prefer something in the medium-price range, but he remembered that the company was paying and this hadn't been a very good start for Sandy on her honeymoon. "Price is no object, Pepe."
"Then I believe I would recommend the Moon Devil, sir. It is a new hotel at the end of the beach. Expensive, exclusive, and quite luxurious. I think small but elegant would be the best way to describe the Moon Devil."
"Then the Moon Devil it is," Guy said. "You speak with a British accent, Pepe. Were you educated in Europe?"
"No, sir," Pepe responded, wheeling the black Citroen away from the curb and entering the busy traffic lane heading for the freeway. "I've never been out of Brazil. English is taught in our schools here, but it is, I'm afraid, with the British pronunciation. Many Americans comment on my accent."
"I like it," Sandy remarked with a light laugh. "It always sounds so dignified to me. And, really, we Americans speak terrible English."
"I wouldn't say terrible, madam," Pepe returned with a smile. "You have a distinctive pronunciation, that's all. How long will you be in Rio? Is this your first visit?"
"It's our first visit," Guy replied, "and we really don't know how long we'll be here. That all depends on some business I have."
"It certainly is a lovely city," Sandy commented.
"There are many beautiful places to see in Rio," Pepe said. "If you like, I can recommend a number of little tours we can make while you are here."
"That would be nice," Guy responded, "but you'll have to give me a hand in locating a man before we can commit ourselves as far as time goes."
"Certainly, sir," Pepe said.
"Oh, Guy," Sandy exclaimed as they left the freeway and entered Rio's fabulous beach area, "I do hope we'll have time to see Rio. Isn't it beautiful! Look at that sidewalk! It's colored marble or something. And look at the moonlight on the water! I think this must be one of the most romantic places in the world!"
"It's lovely," Guy said quietly. "Look, Sandy, I'm going to have Pepe drive me back to the airport as soon as we register. Maybe I can get a line on Lockwood tonight, then we'll have Rio all to ourselves. Okay?"
"Guy, do you have to-tonight? Yes, I guess you should. The quicker you get that behind you, the more time we'll have to ourselves. But you won't be gone long, will you?"
"I'll make it as quick as I can, darling. The trail may still be warm here."
Sandy sighed and put her hand on Guy's arm, settling back in the seat to look out at one of the richest playgrounds in the world. The long beach was -lined with multi-million-dollar hotels and dotted with gracefully swaying palm trees.
"Here is the Moon Devil, sir," Pepe said, pulling the Citroen into a circular driveway laced with lush tropical landscaping. It looked more like a very exclusive private club than a hotel. A uniformed doorman greeted them and signaled to bellboys to take their luggage.
The desk was tastefully located off the small but elegant lobby. Guy noted that the clerk was dressed in a formal pin-stripe black suit. Guy registered, assuring the clerk that a small suite would be quite sufficient.
"Wait for me, Pepe," Guy said as the bellboy took the luggage to the elevator. "I'll be right down."
"Yes, sir," Pepe said with a small bow.
The elevator opened into a large sitting room that served the six suites on the floor. Burgundy and white were combined in the decor to give the area both warmth and elegance.
"Wow!" Sandy exclaimed as the bellboy opened the door to their suite and she walked in. She had never seen such luxurious elegance in her life! The living room was done in shades of green and blue. A gaily colored Tiffany lamp on the end table seemed to set the motif, creating an interesting blend of contemporary and antique splendor. The bedroom was decorated in shades of orange and rust, and a huge circular bed piled high with colorful pillows dominated the room.
"Guy, look!" Sandy called as she walked into the large bathroom. "Look, a sunken tub! Oh, wow!"
"Quite a layout, isn't it?" Guy remarked after he tipped the boy and walked into the bedroom.
"This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen. I don't even want to know what it costs. I'm afraid I'd feel guilty! Oh, darling, it's like a dream! Do you have to go back out tonight?"
"I'd better," Guy said. "I want to get this thing off my mind. Sure you'll be okay here for a while?"
"For a while! I'd be okay here forever! Don't be gone long. Know what I'm going to do? I'm going to take a bath in a sunken tub! I've always dreamed of doing that. And I'll be sparkling clean when you come back. Please, darling, don't be long."
"I won't," Guy said, taking her in his arms and kissing her. The idea of looking for Jack Lockwood appealed to him less and less, but he knew that he had to follow up his vague lead and try to get this assignment behind him. "Just relax, Sandy, and enjoy yourself. I'll be back before you know it. And don't drown in that sunken tub!" he added with a laugh, as he broke their embrace and walked quickly to the door.
Pepe was waiting for him in the lobby and they got into the car and headed back up the long beach. Knowing that he would need all the help he could get, Guy explained his mission in detail to Pepe. He also explained that they would have to use a discreet, indirect approach if they were to be successful in finding out very much about Jack Lockwood.
"And that is all you know, sir? The fact that he filed a flight plan, with Rio as his destination?"
"I'm afraid so, Pepe."
"Of course we can try the American Consulate in the morning, but I doubt your Mr. Lockwood is the type that registers with the Consulate. At any rate, Mr. Morrison, this should be interesting. A deviation, shall we say, from the sightseeing duty I usually pull."
"Where in Rio would a man like Mr. Lockwood be likely to hang out?"
"Ah, sir, that depends on his particular line of endeavor," Pepe said. "And you haven't told me that. If, for instance, he is in the narcotics business, we might find him in one of a dozen places that that type use. But first, it seems we'd better ascertain that he is in Rio at all. That's the civil airport over there. We'll begin there. May I suggest, sir, that you accompany me but let me do the talking? A woman I have dated on occasion is the secretary to the administrator there. If she is on duty tonight, we might be able to get the information you need without upsetting anybody with a number of questions."
"I'll be the silent partner, Pepe," Guy laughed, pleased that he had been lucky enough to find an intelligent, clever guide.
As they entered the large, sprawling building, Guy noted that the Rio facility wasn't nearly as modern or cleanly kept as the one in Caracas. He followed Pepe and listened to him exchange what appeared to be pleasant banter in Portuguese with several of the men on night duty.
"We're in luck," Pepe announced. "Guilda is not on duty tonight, but she just arrived from an excursion by private aircraft. I'm afraid my competition is becoming stronger," he laughed. "Somebody took her to Punta del Este for a holiday. Ah, there she is now. Guilda!"
Guy admired Pepe's taste in women. Guilda was a tall, pale coffee-colored mulatto girl with a full, voluptuous figure. She was easily in her thirties, but still a beautiful woman. Guy stood by quietly as Guilda and Pepe exchanged greetings in Portuguese.
"Mr. Morrison," Pepe said rather formally, "this is Guilda Ordanos. She has kindly consented to have a cup of coffee with us. And she speaks English, Mr. Morrison, every bit as well as I do."
"But not quite so formally," Guilda laughed, taking Guy's outstretched hand. "Welcome to Brazil, Mr. Morrison."
"Thank you," Guy responded and the threesome fell into step and headed for the small coffee shop. Walking next to the tall voluptuous girl awakened Guy's physical senses. She seemed to exude raw sex. He thought of Sandy waiting for him in the hotel and briefly wondered what kind of idiot he was to be out looking for a man at a time like this.
Guy restrained his impatience as they exchanged small talk at the table and sipped coffee. Finally, after what seemed to Guy an eternity, Pepe brought the conversation around to Jack Lockwood, explaining in very general terms that it was important that Guy locate the man on a business matter. When Pepe mentioned Lockwood's name, Guilda's facial expression changed immediately.
"I'm afraid you're not alone, Mr. Morrison," Guilda said. "A number of people are looking for Jack Lockwood."
"Do you know him?" Guy asked.
"Quite well," she said with a tiny note of bitterness in her voice. "I've known him for some years. He arrived here several days ago and caused quite a stir. He landed, came in and bought me a cup of coffee, then took off again. But it seems he did not leave alone. One of the local guerrilla leaders, a man wanted by the government, managed to board Jack's plane while it was being refueled. The local police, who monitor our radio frequency, arrived just after they took off. I was questioned for five hours."
"Why?" Pepe demanded indignantly.
"Because it was obviously a well-planned escape and they thought I had something to do with it because I had coffee with Jack while his plane was being refueled. They've been back a dozen times. The government is hopping mad that Car illo, the guerrilla leader, slipped through their fingers. That's why I went away yesterday, to avoid answering any more questions."
"I don't suppose Lockwood filed a flight plan," Guy sighed, suspecting that he had another near miss in his quest.
"Of course not," Guilda laughed. "When he does, nobody believes him, anyway. But he told me he was heading for Bogota. He said he is setting up a new base there for a while."
"Did you tell the police that?" Pepe asked.
"No," Guilda replied with a smile. "This is how Jack makes his living. He's a rascal, but I guess I'm like other people who sort of admire an adventurer. Besides, it wouldn't have done the police any good. Colombian authorities aren't very friendly with Brazilian security police."
"Guilda," Guy said softly, "can you suggest a way I can contact Jack Lockwood? He's bound to be touchy about people looking for him, but I have to contact him personally."
"I don't know where he is holed up, if that's what you mean," the attractive Brazilian girl replied. "If I were you, I think I'd try to locate Barbara Salton. She's his current playmate. Her father has something to do with the mining business in Colombia. I imagine that's why Jack has chosen Bogota for a base. She's a young redhead with the morals of an alley cat, I understand. Eighteen or nineteen and a well-known swinger in Bogota. I wish I could help you more, but that's all I know. I'd get up to Bogota as quick as I could, though. Jack doesn't have a record of staying in one place very long."