Tropic of Darkness by Tony Richards Read Free Book Online Page A

should.”
    He was rather drunk, Manuel could see. Nothing new in that. Normally, he’d have found some excuse to walk away. But this time, bothered as he was, he did as he was asked.
    Carlos clamped an arm around his shoulder, the smell of drink and stale tobacco overwhelming Manuel.
    â€œYou’ve been so quiet this evening, Manolito. Are you sick? I wouldn’t be surprised, sitting in that damned office all day, pushing pens around a desk and getting fat, eh?”
    He broke into coarse laughter. Manuel just kept quiet.
    Carlos swayed a little, and then frowned at him concernedly.
    â€œI haven’t offended you, have I? It’s just friendly advice. So, what do you need to get off your chest? There’s something troubling you, isn’t there?”
    Manuel told him all about Francis Jackson. And as he’d expected, Carlos looked bewildered by the time that he had finished.
    â€œSo? Yanquis bump themselves off all the time. Their existences are pointless, their lives too stressful.”
    â€œBut it happened a year back, the exact same thing. I was entertaining another foreign visitor, a Dutch industrialist. He seemed fine. And then when he went home, he killed himself. He slashed his wrists.”
    â€œAnd how did this Jackson die?”
    Manuel felt awkward.
    â€œI’m not sure.”
    Carlos gave Manuel a hard look for a second and then let out a surprised bark of a laugh.
    â€œI always thought you were a realist, Manolo. Not given to fantasies. So what are you suggesting? These two men loved Cuba so much that they could not bear the agony of leaving? These two gringos who are not even remotely connected or related went back home to their big houses and giant TV sets and found it all so awful that they ended their own lives?”
    By and large, Manuel had been expecting little else. He frowned and turned his gaze toward Havana once again.
    Carlos’s grip around his shoulder slackened just a touch. The man was now staring at Manuel with a thoughtfulness he never usually showed.
    â€œWhat is this?” he asked. “What the hell is eating you? Why should this bother you so much?”
    Manuel realized he wasn’t even sure himself. He could only lower his head, staring dumbly at the ground.
    â€œAn instinct you have, yes?” the big cop asked him. “A feeling in that flabby gut of yours?”
    Manuel shrugged. “Maybe.”
    â€œNot maybe— yes . I know you better than you think.” He breathed out heavily and straightened up, pulling the shorter man with him. “Where d’you think I got this captain’s badge, a candy store?” he went on, his voice sobering a little. “I’m actually a damned good cop. I know what makes most people tick. You, you’re smart. And more importantly, you’re sensible, always a good head on your shoulders. So when your instincts start to bother you this badly . . . ”
    Carlos seemed to puzzle over it in the way that people who are pretty drunk do, taking far too long about it.
    â€œIs there anything that you can do about this?” Manuel asked.
    â€œI can’t see what, quite honestly. But something might turn up. Crazier things have happened. I’ll look into it and let you know.”
    He thumped Manuel’s shoulder, punctuating his words with a rasping chuckle.

CHAPTER
    SIX
    The girls were gone, and so was Pierre. Music was still blaring through the open windowpanes but, drunk and entirely oblivious, Jack was lying curled up at the center of his rumpled bed, murmuring as he dreamed.
    It was like no dream that he had ever had. Even fast asleep, he knew that.
    First, it went completely dark inside his head. And then . . .
    There was a pair of eyes, moving in toward him through the blackness. They had hazel-colored irises, rather saddened in the way they glistened, as though on the verge of tears. They continued getting closer, larger until—by the