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‘Now?’ Mr Ambrose flexed his fingers and fixed his cold gaze on the little old Indian lady. ‘Now that they are finished, I will have my fun. It is time to negotiate. Karim, bring out the bag, please.’
The Mohammedan reached into his knapsack and pulled out a small leather bag, which he handed to Mr Ambrose. Mr Ambrose undid the knot that held the bag closed, but didn’t pull it open yet. Instead, he focused on the old lady.
‘Estamos à procura de um lugar. Um lugar secreto escondido na selva. Precisamos de alguém para nos guiar no cofre caminhos. Você pode fazer isso?’[21]
‘What did you say to her?’ I whispered.
I had learned some Portuguese on my way up here, but nowhere near enough to understand this.
‘I told her what we want from them. That we need guides to see us on safe paths through the jungle.’
‘You didn’t mention the Brazilians, did you?’
‘No. Why should I?’
That manipulative, scheming bastard…!
The old woman regarded him through narrowed eyes. They were old eyes. Eyes, which, I did not doubt, had seen much.
‘É que todos?’
My Portuguese was good enough for that one. Is that all?
Oh, this old lady was good. Very good.
‘Não,’ Mr Ambrose was forced to admit, grudgingly. ‘Há homens nos seguindo. Homens perigosos. Eles querem nos matar e tomar o que buscamos.’[22]
The old woman nodded, sagely.
‘Estou entendendo.’[23]
‘They know about the Brazilians now, don’t they?’ I enquired sweetly.
‘What did I tell you about keeping quiet, Mr Linton?’
‘Oops. Sorry, Sir, I forgot.’
‘I’m sure you did.’
The old lady had watched our exchange with interest. If I wasn’t very mistaken, I saw amusement twinkling in her eyes. They focused back on Mr Ambrose alone, not quite as hard and sharp as before.
‘O que você está oferecendo?’[24]
What are you offering?
This was the prompt that Mr Ambrose had apparently been waiting for. With an air of reverence that made me think he was handling the Crown Jewels, he opened the leather bag on his lap and pulled out a small, shiny necklace of glass beads.
That was it.
That was all.
Still holding the thing as if it were made of diamonds, he handed it to the old lady with a little bow. The old lady for her part, without betraying any emotions, took the small necklace and lifted it into the air, gazing at it thoughtfully.
‘What are you doing?’ I hissed at Mr Ambrose.
‘I am negotiating, Mr Linton.’
‘You want them to lead us dozens, maybe hundreds of miles through the jungle, to risk getting in the way of professional soldiers for that?’
