Free Call Down Thunder by Daniel Finn Page A

rolled his shoulders, easing the hurt, and then grunted again. ‘But it don’t make a
difference. I done all the business I ever gonna do, and you got no call on me.’
    ‘One last job. Give you drinking money, Tomas. That’s what I hear you do now: kissing the bottle. A boxer and a kissing man, that’s how I hear it.’
    ‘Hear it any way you like. I don’t need one thing from you, or you,’ said Tomas, turning and challenging Calde. ‘That time’s all gone for me, you understand? You
find some other man for your business.’
    ‘Well –’ Señor Moro nodded at the man holding Reve, and Reve found himself pushed forward into the circle again – ‘how about this boy? He make offer take
your place. He good enough to run a boat to Paraloca without getting stung by the patrol?’
    Tomas looked at Reve but said nothing.
    ‘If he lose my boat,’ continued Señor Moro, ‘I come looking for you, Tomas, and I take what little you got.’
    ‘This boy’s too young to do your business,’ said Tomas.
    His shoulders were straight and his eyes unblinking. No sign of the rum shakes. He looked strong. Then he looked at Calde: thick shoulder, pig-eyed. The señor’s dog in Rinconda. Had
Tomas and Theon been like that when they ran Rinconda? Reve wondered. Is that what Mi had seen in them both. No, Calde was the one with the devil in his belly. He was the enemy.
    ‘I understand,’ said Señor Moro. He flicked the tip of his cigar. ‘But I got business that need doing. Maybe this man can help me out.’ He nodded towards
LoJo’s father, Pelo. ‘Calde, can this man help me out?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We don’t have so much time.’ He sounded as if he had all the time in the
world.
    Calde nodded and Pelo was jostled forward. He was a small man with a narrow face and a sharp chin and he wore a moustache that drooped round the edge of his mouth and made him look sad. He
wasn’t sad though; he worked hard, but he liked to joke too, called Reve ‘Captain Clean-up’ because of the way Reve gathered bottles from the seashore. Tomas liked him. Liked his
wife too. Reve looked over at Ciele. She was gripping LoJo’s shoulders, holding him tight. She caught Reve’s eye and Reve looked away; she could lose her man.
    ‘I’ll go,’ said Pelo, his voice even. ‘How much you payin? Paraloca take me a week maybe. I got fishing to do.’
    ‘In one of my fishing boats?’ said Calde.
    Pelo shrugged. ‘I pay you all the time.’
    ‘Maybe this help you pay off the debt, eh.’
    ‘Sure.’ Pelo looked at Señor Moro.
    ‘OK,’ said Señor Moro, ‘let’s see.’ But as he was pulling out a roll of dollars from his pocket – more money than Reve could imagine having –
Reve saw the way Calde looked at Ciele and he could tell that Calde was happy for Pelo to be away for a week.
    ‘Here.’ Señor Moro held out a couple of bills.
    Pelo hesitated, looked at Tomas, then put out his hand and without looking at how much the señor was giving him, he passed it to Ciele.
    ‘Don’ worry, Pelo,’ said Calde, all smooth as if he’d dipped his voice in pig fat. ‘I’ll see Ciele’s all right. She need anything, she just ask me. No
problem.’
    Pelo ignored Calde’s offer and turned to Tomas. ‘Tomas, you mind Ciele, the boy can fish with Reve.’
    Tomas nodded. ‘I’ll see this pig don’t come near her . . .’
    Escal, Cesar’s heavy-jawed and simple-minded brother, lunged at Tomas, fists bunched, but Tomas stepped to one side, neat as a dancer. You wouldn’t think someone so big and carrying
so many years could move as easy as that. ‘You want trouble off me, Calde, you know where you find me.’
    Señor Moro laughed. ‘Do your business another time, Calde. Come.’
    He beckoned to Pelo and they went together over to the pier’s edge, the other men and then Ciele and LoJo following. LoJo was saying something quietly to his mother, reassuring her
maybe.
    Reve was left alone with Tomas. ‘What Calde