Ducie by Chris Freeman

  Chapter 41. ¿Habla Español?

  The concourse of Mendoza bus station oozed a sickly stench of freshly ground coffee that subsided only temporarily every time the glass automatic doors slid open to welcome a new visitor, followed by a waft of muggy, exhaust-fume-filled air. A small press shack, packed to the rafters with every conceivable type of printed reading material, from trashy magazines to international broadsheets lay proudly just inside the entrance doors; the first sight to greet each new visitor to the station. The shopkeeper sat on an impossibly raised serving counter, like a Buddha statue at the top of a paper mountain.

  Although Frank had been quietly confident that Daniella would show up, he couldn’t hide his surprise when he and Harrison wheeled their suitcases towards the departure door and were greeted by the sight of a relaxed looking Daniella in a floor-length, floral dress, sitting on a pink, plastic travel trunk beneath the glowing digital departures board. She’d not only showed up, she’d beaten them there!

  Harrison blind-sided Daniella, poking a playful finger into her ribcage from behind, which made her flinch and rise to her feet. She smiled sweetly and patted her chest as a gesture of relief, as she recognised the unmistakable pair.

  - You been waiting long?

  Frank asked her casually, as if he were slightly late for an innocent evening at the cinema with Daniella.

  - No, no. You’re not late. I was a little early. The buses on the other hand….

  She gestured up towards the departures board, which was awash with digital orange place names and mainly red departure times. The red ones were delayed. Some for hours rather than minutes.

  Harrison sucked his teeth.

  - People complain aboot dem peasant wagons in England. I-man a gonna bring dem people t’Mendoza and see if then they a still a fussin and whining aboot a one bus every tirty minutes back home!

  Daniella caught about every third word of what Harrison said, but it still sounded funny. She liked the way Harrison didn’t hold back his frustrations. It was something she wished she could do more herself, instead of defaulting to damn politeness all the time.

  - It’s always been the same here. You’re better off turning up half an hour after the time on your ticket. Do you guys want coffee?

  - Dis dread inhale aboot 6 cups when we a come tru da door!

  Frank had been equally as overwhelmed by the smell of caffeine when they’d arrived, but they had time to kill now.

  - Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a caffeine kick up the arse. The bus ride was six hours coming from Santiago.

  Daniella extended her suitcase handle and wheeled it back and forth, as if to confirm its functionality.

  - It’ll be more like eight going back, when you see how slow the border control work at night. We’ll be sitting there for another two hours at least.

  - Coffee it is then!

  Frank and Harrison filed in behind Daniella and the pink suitcase she was pulling, following her as she toddled towards a rather trendy and modern looking café that had taken the rustic step of writing its menu on a blackboard with chalk.

  Harrison and Daniella took a table overlooking the tarmac forecourt where the arriving buses performed huge sweeping turns to align themselves with their designated terminus shelters. As Frank waited in a small queue at the counter, he wondered how much of Daniella’s willingness to come home with them was due to the remoulding procedure he’d performed. He knew nothing about this girl in reality. He still didn’t understand what had made her get up and leave when she heard the Dictaphone recording back at Fortunato’s. Now Fortunato lay dead at the bottom of a lake and Daniella was about to board the bus with them to Santiago, where they would catch a flight to Charles de Gaulle, Paris, followed by a connection back to Birmingham; all of this apparently of her own free will. If nothing else, they’d certainly made their mark on this place in the short while they’d been here. A kidnap, a murder, the dumping of a body and the corruption of an innocent young girl’s mind to the point that she now thought that coming back to England was exactly what she needed to be doing right now. They were certainly past the point of no return now.

  As he trod soft steps between the café’s wooden tables with their quaint, blue gingham tablecloths, carefully balancing the 3 drinks on the serving tray, Frank wondered exactly what the remoulding had done to Daniella’s memory. What exactly did she think she remembered now?

  - Fifty minutes, Frankie!

  Harrison’s unique way of acknowledging the drink Frank had bought for him was apparently to angrily blurt out how long their departing bus was delayed for

  - You’re welcome Harrison.

  He was beyond being annoyed by Harrison now. In truth, he felt a level of trust and camaraderie with him now that wasn’t really there before. Perhaps it was the fact that they were well on their way to overcoming the odds and achieving exactly what they came her for. Albeit with some collateral damage along the way. Or perhaps it was the fact that they were now embroiled together in a story of criminal proportions. The success of this project, and in fact their avoidance of a lifetime behind bars depended on each of the men supporting the story of the other. They were well and truly in this together, and Frank continued to remind himself that Harrison chose to back him up on this venture. He was grateful for that for sure.

  - So, you’ve got your passport, Daniella?

  Daniella patted a neon bum-bag that looked like it belonged in the 1980s in response to Frank’s question.

  - Uh, hu. Passport, travel sickness pills, money…. Bloody hell! Money! What money will I need over there? Pounds, right? I didn’t….

  - Woah, woah, woah…. Don’t worry about all that. We’ve got it all covered. You need anything, you just tell us, ok?

  Daniella nodded, hesitantly at Frank’s reassurance.

  - Take this for starters.

  Frank stuffed five folded 20 pound notes into Daniella’s hand. She examined the unfamiliar currency for a moment or two, before sliding them into her bum-bag. Frank took a precursory sip of his drink.

  - So, you remember the plan?

  Harrison shot Frank a concerned look at this unscripted question that he hadn’t been pre warned about.

  - The plan?

  - Yeah, you know. What we talked about at Fortunato’s. Before the dog ran riot about the place, you remember?

  Daniella’s eyes widened with realisation and that smile that Harrison loved so much radiated across her face like sunshine.

  - Kate! Back in England? Of course. I want to help her Frank.

  - I know you do. I know you do. And we will. You will!

  - How long will we be gone?

  - A week. Maybe more. I can’t be sure yet. It depends how it goes.

  - Me and Frankie a tek good care’ya when you widdus Daniella. Ya nah need fret boot a ting, sight?

  - Right…. I mean….err….sight.

  - It’s seeeeen….

  - Huh?

  - I say “sight?”, you say “seen!”. Jamaican, yeah?

  - Oh….right. Ok. Seeeen

  Harrison smiled with satisfaction at the thought that he’d filtered a piece of his own lingo down into Daniella’s English vocabulary.

  Frank saw the terrified look on Harrison’s face only a fraction of a second before he felt the firm double tap on his shoulder from behind. He turned to see a tall, bald man, with oversized sideburns and an olive skin that crinkled and sagged in a way that suggested an outdoor employment and excessive exposure to the daytime sun.

  - Señor. Habla español?

  Frank stuttered in response to the sudden Spanish inquisition from a stranger who wasn’t dressed in a way to suggest he held a position of authority.

  - Son Inglés señor

  He was grateful to Daniella for picking up the conversation baton with her compatriot.

  - Ah, Inglés. Bueno.

  The man cleared his throat audibly, as if this was a procedure he was required to do in order for his brain to switch languages
to English.

  - Where’s Fortunato?

  Frank’s stomach did a cartwheel, as he fought hard to stop his inner shock seeping out to spoil his poker face. He let the shower of instinctive questions wash through his brain without trying to answer them. Who was this man to Fortunato? Did he know he was dead? Did he know that they had killed him? How the hell had he traced them to the bus station?

  - Furtunato?

  Frank tried to load as much confusion into the name as possible.

  - Yes. Fortunato.

  - As in the café owner?

  - If you like…. Or Fortunato, as in the man who came looking for you, because he saw you and your funny-looking friend here giving Daniella trouble in the café. Right before Daniella didn’t show up on her stall the same afternoon. And right before Fortunato then didn’t show up to open his café tonight. Where is he?

  - What makes you think….

  Harrison was already on his feet and assessing the quickest route around the table to destroy this clown. It was neither the time nor the place. Daniella’s timely interruption kept the conflict from moving from verbal to physical; for now at least.

  - They aren’t giving me trouble, Gabriel. We’re fine here. You’ve got it all wrong.

  Frank suppressed a smirk of smugness, as he looked towards Gabriel, gesturing towards Daniella to back up her point. He wasn’t too taken back by the fact that these two appeared to know each other by name. The brief time they’d spent in Fortunato’s café was enough to see that Daniella was a well-liked face about town.

  - So ya tek ya big mout and go run it in some udder rasclat’s face dickhead! ‘Fore I smash ya lickle ball-head across dis shop ‘ere and now.

  Harrison’s size alone was intimidating, but when accompanied by a tirade of threats, most of which Gabriel didn’t even understand, he went from intimidating to utterly terrifying. Gabriel wasn’t interested in conflict. At least he wasn’t now anyway. He’d initiated this though, so he’d feel stupid just walking away. He eyed the three bus tickets on the table amongst the empty coffee cups and opened packets of sugar.

  - You three going somewhere nice?

  - And what bidness be that of yars, fool?

  Harrison stretched out the vowels in ‘fool’ and tagged on a scowl and a sucking of the teeth for good measure.

  - No one…Nothing. I er…. I was just….

  Daniella was becoming adept at stepping in at the right moment.

  - Have you tried Fortunato’s phone?

  Gabriel looked relieved at the change of subject, but still eyed the two men and the tickets suspiciously, glancing from Frank to the tickets, then only briefly to Harrison who he was fast becoming afraid of.

  - No….I mean…. Er…. Yes. His cell phone, we called it. It’s switched off. His wife said he hasn’t been home. Nobody has seen him.

  A speaker above their heads crackled into life and a young woman’s sweet voice, spoiled by the bloated echo of the tannoy system began reeling off the details of some journey or other. Frank tuned in carefully to the announcement, listening carefully for the word ‘Santiago’.

  - That’s us! It’s here.

  Daniella began wiping sugar granules from the table and placing the discarded blue sugar wrappers into the empty cups, before pulling up the handle of her suitcase. Frank edged gingerly past Gabriel towards the door. Harrison stayed rooted to the spot staring straight at Gabriel, pushing for a reaction. For any excuse to attack. Frank didn’t need this now. He just wanted to be on that bus to Santiago. He gave Harrison’s arm a gentle pull.

  - Come on man!

  Harrison shoved a chair to one side with unnecessary force, edging his way around it towards the door. All the time keeping his gaze on Gabriel, who by now appeared as if he may be close to an involuntary bowel movement. The big Jamaican purposely walked an indirect route to the door that took him right into the face of Gabriel, where he paused briefly, sucking his teeth and looking down to the man’s feet, before returning his gaze slowly up to his face, meeting his stare with an imposing scowl. Gabriel held Harrison’s gaze for less than a second, before doing the wise thing and looking away and down at the floor like a schoolboy being chastised for bad behaviour. Another pull at the arm from Frank and they were on their way to the bus terminus, Daniella and her pink suitcase on wheels leading the way.

  Daniella slept most of the way to the border. Leaning her head against Harrison’s broad torso, as her body rocked and swayed with every bump in the road. Stirring, but never waking. He resisted the temptation to put his arm around her, or to stroke her precious little face. Instead Harrison shared his gaze between Daniella and the stunning countryside out of the bus window, before sleep eventually took him into its clutches too.

  Frank resisted sleep, despite the ravaging tiredness that was sweeping through him, causing his face to blush, sounds to become muffled and mild fatigue-induced hallucinations to blur his vision occasionally. He looked at Harrison and Daniella across the aisle. An unlikely mismatch of a pair, but both appeared as vulnerable as each other in sleep. He meditated a little on his feelings, without dwelling on them or assigning them any emotion. He just labelled them as they rose inside him. Guilt. Excitement. Uncertainty. Fatigue. Heat. Weakness. Fear. He reclined his seat as far back as it would go and let the overhead fan blow a pointless lukewarm breeze across his face. He wouldn’t sleep, but it would be rest at least. Frank allowed his eyes to close, as the coach rattled along a narrow valley towards its Chilean destination.

  Those with the privilege to know, have a duty to act.