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The fat old seadog behind the desk leaned back in his squeaky chair, nodded, and stroked his silver beard. Then he massaged his right pant leg around his stump. The captain walked with a pronounced limp and had shown Aguilar the prosthesis after the harbormaster had tripped over it accidentally during their tour of the ramshackle bridge.
“I’m sure security is very important in these parts,” White said. “You’ve got to make sure the port is safe.”
“Which is why I nee
d to inspect your cargo areas and engine room. Look at what occurred in Rio de Janeiro yesterday. I don’t want a similar incident to happen here.”
The explosions and gunfights all around Rio and Guanabara Bay had dominated the Brazilian news for the past twenty-four hours. The Salem was currently tied up at the loading dock of Porto de Santos, which served São Paolo. It was the biggest port in South America, so any significant disruption to its operations would affect the country’s entire economy.
“So what are you looking for?”
“Excuse me?” Aguilar countered.
“The price,” White said. “Name it.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Aguilar had received many bribes during his stint as harbormaster, but no one had been so forward about it before.
White leaned forward, his shirt straining against the surprisingly ropy muscles underneath.
“I mean, I have a cargo to unload quickly and a few minor repairs to make in my turbines. Any bureaucratic hassles are going to slow me down. I’ve got to be out of here in three hours, and I don’t want to be late. So what’s your price?”
The way White’s eyes drilled into Aguilar was unsettling. There was something wrong about the situation, but he couldn’t tell why he was so on edge. Suddenly, the bribe didn’t seem worth it, no matter how much he could get.
“Maybe I should bring some more people on board to conduct the inspection,” Aguilar said, rising from his chair.
“Sit down,” White said without moving.
Aguilar puffed up his chest and projected his haughtiest voice. This was his port and he was in charge. No one talked to him like that.
“I’m leaving. We’ll go over this ship with a magnifying glass, down to every last rivet.”
He turned to leave.
“I wouldn’t do that,” White said with a mocking tone. “Not unless you want the port authority to know how much you’ve been skimming off the docking fees.”
Aguilar froze.
“It will set you up for a nice retirement one of these days,” White continued. “Of course, you won’t be able to spend it if you’re in prison. Once the papers find out about your scam, your trial will be a mere formality.”
Aguilar whirled around. “How do you know about that?”
“I have a computer guy who is a whiz at finding hidden documents. All I need to do is release them onto the Internet, and you’ll never get the cork back in the bottle. Corrupt politicians don’t like being cut out of the money flow by corrupt bureaucrats.”
Aguilar’s legs felt wobbly. He collapsed back into the chair.
“What do you want?”
“I expect to breeze through your inspection with a flawless rating. And if I come back through here again, I want the same kid-glove treatment the next time around. I’m a stick-and-carrot kind of guy, so here’s a fee for your troubles.”
White slid a thick wad of American dollars across the desk.
“There’ll be more of this when I return. I don’t want you to be unhappy with our arrangement.”
White stood and glared down at Aguilar, whose stomach was nearing full boil.
“But if my ship gets so much as a demerit for a typo on the manifest, you’ll be lucky to see the outside of a jail cell before you’re seventy. Entende?”
