Justice by InSilva
Disclaimer: own no one you'll recognise.
A/N: This was in danger of turning into an insanely long chapter so I've chopped it, hopefully not too brutally, in roughly half.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Search1
Hands pull him up out of the water. He hears a heartfelt "Damn!" and he is swung up over a strong shoulder. And then he blacks out.
Three days earlier.
The toughest thing was narrowing down who went: they all offered.
"We can't all go," Danny said. "We need to keep the channels open this end and we need to be prepared in case Rusty takes off."
He looked over at Linus. "And we also need to involve Bobby. He'll have local contacts we can tap into."
"I shall go," Saul said quietly and Danny knew there was no shifting him.
"OK," Danny looked round at the faces, thinking about how helpful each would be where and came to a decision. "Saul, Turk and Linus."
They each nodded.
"But not you, Danny," Reuben said gently.
"What?" Danny thought he'd misheard.
Saul was nodding. "You're just out of hospital. You're just recovering. You need to finish healing."
"That's right, mate." Basher looked regretful. "Don't want no incidents, do we?"
Everyone started talking at once - "You probably need to be here, Danny," Virgil said hesitantly. "In case he rings or something." "Or something," Turk echoed sarcastically. "What else is he going to do? Use semaphore?" – Livingston offering to set things up remotely, Frank and Yen offering to go instead, Linus offering to run the contacts…
"Enough," Danny said, raising his voice and silence fell.
"Danny goes."
The words came from the most unlikely of sources and all eyes turned to Tess.
"Danny goes," she said again firmly and he smiled at her, his eyes, warm and loving and thankful, and saw her face flush happily.
"Thank you, everyone, for your concern," Danny acknowledged. "I appreciate it. But as my wife has just said, I am going. That isn't up for discussion. Are we clear?"
"I want to come too."
Danny turned on his side and looked at her, hair splayed over the pillow.
"I want to come with you," she said. "I don't want to be left behind."
He reached down and caught up her hand and pressed it to his lips. "No, Tess."
"No, what?"
"No, you're never left behind. You're always with me. And no, you're not coming."
Her expression grew troubled. "I wouldn't get in the way. And I could be helpful."
He leaned over ignoring the pain from the freshly healed parts of his body and kissed her.
"I can't operate with you there, Tess. I'm always going to be looking out for you and…if anything happened to you…"
He pushed away the end of that sentence which was "as well".
"Stay here, Tess. Stay with Reuben and the others. Livingston's setting up excellent lines of communication. You'll know as much as we all do. I promise."
Tess's gaze dropped to the sheets. "You're going to find him, aren't you?"
"I am." And Danny was grateful he didn't have to specify which "him" he meant.
The flight down to Rio the next day seemed to take forever.
Out of nowhere, Linus had produced streetmaps and tourist guides and currently had them spread out around all of their laps. Danny found himself thinking Do you reckon he writes for Lonely Planet? and missing amused blue eyes and the continuation of the silent conversation.
Turk seemed to have decided that in the absence of Virgil, Linus would make a good sparring partner.
"What is this? We're not planning on taking in the sights!" He battled with the unfolded map.
"Very soon you are going to have twenty-four pieces of paper six inches by three," Saul warned from the row behind. "Pass it here."
Danny looked out of the window and wished the miles away. He'd spoken to Bobby who had offered up some local names both official and unofficial that would help.
"Guy called Santos will be your best bet," he'd said. "Nothing moves in Rio without him hearing about it. And it'll help that his brother is the head of local law enforcement."
"Thanks."
"Linus tagging along?"
"Yeah." And Danny heard the careless solicitude. "I'll keep him close, Bobby."
"I know. Just don't let him mess up."
Danny smiled.
"Oh, and can you tell Livingston I want to have a word with him about that tracer."
"Is he in trouble?"
"He will be if he doesn't show me how he did it. I'm pulling the taps off the hotel by the way."
"Makes sense." And it did. Rusty wouldn't use that route now.
"Good luck, Danny."
"Have the whisky waiting."
It was early evening by the time they hit Rio. A smiling, middle-aged man who identified himself as Santos met them at the airport and took them to an apartment in the South.
"You can set up base here," Santos said, dropping the keys on the table. "There's a grocery store on the corner and a bar opposite. I took the liberty of stocking up on essentials."
"Milk?" Linus asked, opening the fridge.
"Whisky," Santos grinned and Linus flushed.
"Nice," Turk said, shaking his head.
Saul took up residence on the couch and rested his feet.
"I've put out enquiries about your friend," Santos went on. "I did so as soon as Bobby called me. No one's come back so far but it's early days and a big city. I'll swing by tomorrow morning and we can be methodical about it all."
"Thank you," Danny said sincerely and shook his hand.
The door shut behind Santos and Turk headed for the whisky on the side.
"We ought to divide the city up into manageable chunks," Linus said, unfolding the map again.
"Who died and made you Rusty?" Turk scoffed, pouring the drinks and then froze. "Danny…oh, Danny…I'm so, so-"
"It's OK, Turk," Danny waved a hand. He looked over at Saul and asked with meaning. "You alright?"
Saul sighed. "My feet hurt. I've sat on a plane for over twelve hours and my back aches. Added to which, my ulcers are not co-operating. But if, as I suspect, you're about to ask me whether we start looking for him right now then the answer is yes. Obviously."
"Thanks, Saul." Danny turned to the other two. "I say we go and find somewhere to eat and then we start asking."
"Here?" Linus asked. "I mean, in this part of Rio?"
"We got to start somewhere, Linus," Danny said. "Why not here?"
Back in LA, Livingston had Virgil as an eager helper.
"Thank you, thank you," he said taking the machinery off the Malloy brother. "It doesn't need to be touched."
Yen looked up from the chair he was sitting cross-legged in, his hands wrapped in a complicated cat's cradle and fired off a question.
"Yes, of course I can," Livingston said irritably. "It's a simple matter of physics and geography." He looked down at the electronic equipment and crossed his fingers. "And luck."
They'd eaten at the bar opposite and they'd started asking and a little money and a little charm had greased the way so that suddenly English could be understood and spoken. There was no sign of a blond Americano with blue eyes but there was news of a card game where someone might know something.
"Turk and Saul, you head back and check in with Livingston," Danny suggested. He looked over at Linus. "You up for a late night poker session, kid?"
"Sure, Danny."
They got back to the apartment in the early morning. They'd smiled and chatted pleasantly and lost a little money and laughed in the right places. No one had seen the Americano but it was possible that their friends had and Linus and Danny had returned with a few more contacts than they'd had a few hours ago.
Danny hit the pillow and listened to Saul's gentle snoring from the bed beside him and wished he could just stand in the street and call for Rusty and have him answer.
True to his word, Santos arrived early the next day and brought Miguel, his brother, the policeman, with him.
"We've both been listening to the word out there," Miguel said. "We each have different sorts of people we know and usually between us…"
He tailed off and looked apologetically at them. "We have nothing definite. There has been a lot of upheaval in the Zona Norte of late and that would be where I would start to search. It's the easiest place to bury yourself if you are able to hide."
Miguel looked over at Santos who looked over at Danny.
"Bobby said he could hide, right?"
"Yes," Danny confirmed with a sigh. "He's very good at it."
"And this other man," Miguel went on, "this man he is pursuing…"
"He's called Vincente," Danny said. "He's extremely dangerous."
Miguel nodded. "I've put out enquiries on him too. I figure where we find one…"
Danny's mouth tightened. Yeah. That was about right.
"OK," Santos said, suddenly business-like. "We split up and cover more ground. Any of you speak Portuguese?"
There was a deafening silence.
"That's what I figured."
He went to the door and whistled. A young boy in his early teens appeared grinning.
"My son, Patrick."
"Patrick?" Linus's eyebrows were sky-high.
"My wife saw "Dirty Dancing" like a hundred times. And I like a quiet life," Santos shrugged. He turned to the boy. "Rico? I want you to go with these gentlemen," he indicated Danny and Linus, "and translate for them."
Rico shot off a rapid-fire question in Portuguese and Santos smiled.
"Of course, there's money in it for you. What do you take your father for?" He cuffed Rico's head playfully.
"I'm going to head to the station and see what my informants have come up with," Miguel explained.
"I'll head out with you," Santos said to Turk and Saul.
"We'll meet back here tonight," Danny said. "Unless we find him first."
The Zona Norte was away from the tourist areas. It was residential and Danny felt eyes gliding over the suits and their foreignness and knew that Rusty would never have this problem of not fitting in. It was a gift. Rusty could blend in anywhere. And that was what they were facing.
Rico proved a chatterbox whose passion was soccer. His hero was Pelé and Danny vaguely remembered sitting with whisky and Rusty and a bag of cashew nuts between them, watching "Escape to Victory" in a London hotel room with Basher trying earnestly but unsuccessfully to explain the offside rule. Not that it really came into the movie.
Linus had apparently played soccer at high school.
"I was in goal," he said to Rico who looked suitably impressed. "I was pretty handy."
Danny could see the look on Rusty's face and fought hard to keep his own straight.
"Papa said to take you to the market first. There's a man called Rui. Men go to him for guns."
It was said casually and Danny saw the nervous double-take from Linus because guns were not what they were about. Ever. But that didn't mean that he and Rusty didn't know how to handle one. It didn't mean that they didn't know what it felt like to have a gun barrel pressed to their temples. It was the world they lived and operated in. And OK, so it'd been a while – Vincente aside - since things had been that bad for him and he believed he would know if – Vincente aside – things had been that bad for Rusty recently. But the fact remained that violence was part of it all along with the poker chips and the whisky and the banter. And part of him wanted to sock Linus for his naiveté and part of him wanted to hug him for his innocence.
Santos, Turk and Saul were trawling through the bars, meeting and greeting faces that Santos immediately claimed as lifelong friends. From what Saul could tell, Santos knew everyone and remembered their names, the names of their family and any little anecdotes that needed follow-up from the last time he'd come across them. He was excellent at gathering information and Saul rejoiced in the fact that Bobby had put them in touch.
In the fourth bar, Turk grabbed his arm and said, "We're going to find him right?"
"We are," Saul said with confidence.
Rui was indulgent with Rico and his English was such that he suggested Rico go play football with his own children.
Danny watched the improvised game start up in the back yard of the shop and then turned his attention to Rui.
"I would be really grateful if you could help us. We're trying to find a friend of ours who is not being very sensible."
Rui looked at Danny keenly.
"Is he planning on killing someone?"
"Yes," Danny nodded. "And the someone isn't the sort to just let that happen."
Rui dug up a ledger and leafed through it.
"I made a couple of sales to out-of-towners over recent weeks."
"Do you remember them?" Linus asked eagerly and Rui smiled.
"I remember every one I sell to unless they give me money to forget. Let's see…"
He tapped the book.
"This one was to a well-spoken young man who was fluent in Portuguese although not a native. Dressed quite smartly in a suit. Held himself like…like a dancer. Perfect balance. No wasted movements. Speech was concise too. He was impressive."
Linus caught Danny's eye and beamed. Danny wasn't smiling yet.
"Thing is, a few days later I might have met his twin. Not in looks. The first had no hair and this one had straw blond. And a beard." Rui shuddered. "It did not suit him. But full of the same grace. Full of the same control. And he spoke the language effortlessly."
The smile was slipping off Linus's face and Danny felt his mouth set in a straight line. Vincente. And Rusty. Within touching distance of each other and both with guns.
Outside the football and the sunshine continued.
It was after lunch and Saul's face ached from smiling so hard at strangers who would listen to Santos and nod sympathetically and think and shake their heads.
Santos knew people to ask. He just didn't seem to know the right people to ask.
Danny and Linus had walked with Rico to see a fence called Elvis Presley who looked nothing like. Without even looking, Danny could feel the question burning through Linus and just hoped Linus could keep it inside him.
"Y'OK, Rico?" Elvis asked. "Still scoring goals?"
Rico's smile was wide and white. "Gonna play in the Maracanã someday, you know?"
"Oh, I know, Rico. I'm running a book on when you play your first game."
He turned to Danny and Linus and business began.
"You selling?"
Danny shook his head.
"Then you're buying."
"Oh, we just want some information, sir…Elvis…sir…" Linus explained hurriedly and Elvis and Danny looked at each other with a raised eyebrow and an apologetic smile respectively.
Elvis grinned. "Then you're buying."
Danny reached for his wallet.
"It's interesting you should ask about a new Americano in town," the old newsvendor said and Santos smiled encouragingly. "I seen a sharp suited man who walks with no fear. He comes by here most mornings and by here most evenings. He looks at everything and everyone and no one sees what he sees."
Santos translated to Saul and Turk. "He figures he's either living in the underbelly of the city or he has business there."
"Maybe we can wait," Saul said and hope fired him.
Elvis had something to sell. He had had no direct dealings with either Vincente or Rusty but one of his regulars had arrived at a meet with a broken hand and a story of a pocket that had been badly chosen as a target.
"He operates in a quarter with a reputation for violence and I thought no more of it. But it was done by an Americano."
Vincente. Possibly.
"He had a tattoo on his hand. Two words in flowy script."
Vincente. Definitely.
"Elvis, thank you very much," Danny said and he and Linus and Rico left the building.
Saul and Turk and Santos were sipping beers in the bar opposite where the newsstand was. Saul was wishing for something less gassy but he was willing to suffer if it meant that they were going to catch up with Rusty.
He understood why Rusty was here. Understanding didn't make it any better or any easier. And he'd not been as frightened as this since he'd lost Annie.
They waited. And waiting was all there was.
The two search parties made it back to the apartment within minutes of each other. They found Miguel had let himself in and was cooking a chicken stew.
"My wife's gone to her mother's," he said as if that explained everything.
They all sat round the table, eating the stew and sharing their day.
"We thought we had a good lead on either one or the other of them," Saul said disconsolately. "Neither of them showed."
"Still worth waiting there again tomorrow," Turk said hopefully and Santos nodded.
"We know they've both got guns," Danny said baldly and saw Saul pale.
"And Vincente's been seen at work," Linus contributed.
"But in fact, we know little more than we did last night," Danny concluded grimly.
"Well, I have news," Miguel said and all eyes turned to him. "Got a line on Vincente. Arrived here a few weeks back. He's here to set up a semi-permanent base but it keeps moving. He knows he's being pursued and he's armed himself. Reckon he's worried more about the Mob than your friend, if he even gets that your friend is after him. Spending his time trying to find out who's chasing him."
"What about Rusty?" Danny asked.
"Well…there we don't have quite so much news. He's here…still here, I mean. He's been asking after Vincente. They reckon he's holed up in the dirtier side of town."
Santos looked round at the tight and drawn faces.
"We start again tomorrow," he promised.
Santos, Miguel and Rico had left. Danny was on the phone to Tess and Linus was studying the maps. Again.
Turk had poured himself a whisky and made Saul a cup of chocolate.
"We will find him," he whispered, "won't we?"
"We have to," Saul whispered back.