Banco: The Further Adventures of Papillon. Henri Charriere

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ like combs as they went past. Then the gold was collected, melted into bars, carefully checked for 24-carat purity and put into a strictly guarded store. But who did the guarding? I still can’t get over it. Simon, no less, the hard guy who had made his break from penal with Big Chariot.

      When my work was over, I went to gaze at the sight: I went to the store and stared at the huge pile of gold ingots neatly lined up by Simon, the ex-convict. Not even a strong-room: just a concrete store-house with walls no thicker than usual and a wooden door.

      ‘OK, Simon?’

      ‘OK. And what about you, Papi? Happy at Chariot’s?’

      ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

      ‘I never knew you were in El Dorado. Otherwise I’d have come to get you out.’

      ‘That’s civil. Are you happy here?’

      ‘Well, you know, I have a house: it’s not as big as Charlot’s, but it’s made of bricks and mortar. I built it myself. And I’ve got a young wife, very sweet. And two little girls. Come and see me whenever you like – my house is yours. Chariot tells me your friend is sick: now my wife knows how to give injections, so if you need her don’t hesitate.’

      We talked. He too was thoroughly happy. He too never spoke of France or Montmartre, though he had lived there. Just like Chariot. The past no longer existed; the only thing that mattered was the present – wife, children, the house. He told me he earned twenty bolivars a day. Fortunately their hens gave them eggs for their omelettes and the chickens were on the house; otherwise they wouldn’t have gone far on twenty bolivars, Simon and his brood.

      I gazed at that mass of gold lying there, so carelessly stored behind a wooden door and these four walls only a foot thick. A door that two heaves on a jemmy would open without a sound. This heap of gold, at three bolivars fifty the gramme or thirty-five dollars the ounce, would easily tot up to three million five hundred thousand bolivars or a million dollars. And this unbelievable great fortune was within hand’s reach! Knocking it off would be almost child’s play.

      ‘Elegant, my neat pile of ingots? Eh, Papillon?’

      ‘It’d be more elegant still well salted away. Christ, what a fortune!’

      ‘Maybe: but it’s not ours. It’s holy, on account of they’ve entrusted it to me.’

      ‘Entrusted it to you, sure; but not to me. You must admit it’s tempting to see something like that just lying about.’

      ‘It’s not just lying about, because I’m looking after it.’

      ‘Maybe. But you aren’t here twenty-four hours out of the twenty-four.’

      ‘No. Only from six at night to six in the morning. But during the day there’s another guard: maybe you know him – Alexandre, of the forged postal orders.’

      ‘Oh yes, I know him. Well, be seeing you, Simon. Say hello to your family for me.’

      ‘You’ll come and see us?’

      ‘Sure. I’d like to. Ciao.’

      I left quickly, as quickly as I could to get away from this scene of temptation. It was unbelievable! Anyone would say they were yearning to be robbed, the guys in charge of this mine. A store that could hardly hold itself upright and two one-time high-ranking crooks taking care of all that treasure! In all my life on the loose I’d never seen anything like it!

      Slowly I walked up the winding path to the village. I had to go right through it to reach the headland with Chariot’s château on it. J dawdled; the eight-hour day had been tough. In the second gallery down there was precious little air, and even that was hot and wet, in spite of the ventilators. My pumps had stopped sucking three or four times and I had had to set them right away. It was half past eight now and I had gone down the mine at noon. I’d earned eighteen bolivars. If I had had a working-man’s mind, that wouldn’t have been so bad. Meat was 2-50 bolivars the kilo; sugar 0-70; coffee 2. Vegetables were not dear either: 0-50 for a kilo of rice and the same for dried beans. You could live cheaply, that was true. But did I have the sense to put up with that kind of life?

      In spite of myself, as I climbed up the stony path, walking easily in the heavy nailed boots they had given me at the mine – in spite of myself, and although I did my best not to think about it, I kept seeing that million dollars in gold bars just calling out for some enterprising hand to grab it. At night, there wouldn’t be any difficulty in jumping on Simon and chloroforming him without being recognized. And then the whole thing was in the bag, because they carried their fecklessness to the point of leaving him the key of the store so he could take shelter if it rained. Criminal irresponsibility! All that would be left to do then was carry the two hundred ingots out of the mine and load them into something – a truck or a cart. I’d have to prepare several caches in the forest, all along the road, to salt the ingots away in little packets of a hundred kilos each. If it was a truck, then once it was unloaded I’d have to carry right on as far as possible, pick the deepest place in the river and toss it in. A cart? There were plenty in the village square. The horse? That would be harder to find, but not impossible. A night of very heavy rain between eight and six in the morning would give me all the time I needed for the job and it might even let me get back to the house and go to bed meek as a monk.

      By the time I reached the lights of the village square, in my mind I had already brought it off, and was slipping into the sheets of Big Chariot’s bed.

      ‘Buenos noches, Francès,’ called a group of men sitting at the village bar.

      ‘Hello there, one and all. Good night, hombres.’

      ‘Come and join us for a while. Have an iced beer: we’d like you to.’

      It would have been rude to refuse so I accepted. And here I was sitting among these good souls, most of them miners. They wanted to know whether I was all right, whether I’d found a woman, whether Conchita was looking after Picolino properly, and whether I needed money for medicine or anything else. These generous, spontaneous offers brought me back to earth. A gold-prospector said that if I didn’t care for the mine and if I only wanted to work when I felt like it I could go off with him. ‘It’s tough going, but you make more. And then there’s always the possibility you’ll be rich in a single day.’ I thanked them all and offered to stand a round.

      ‘No, Frenchman, you’re our guest. Another time, when you’re rich. God be with you.’

      I went on towards the château. Yes, it would be easy enough to turn into a humble, honest man among all these people who lived on so little, who were happy with almost nothing, and who adopted a man without worrying where he came from or what he had been.

      Conchita welcomed me back. She was alone. Chariot was at the mine – when I left for work so he came back. Conchita was full of fun and kindness: she gave me a pair of slippers to rest my feet after the heavy boots.

      ‘Your friend’s asleep. He ate well and I have sent off a letter asking for him to be taken into the hospital at Tumereno, a little town not far off, bigger than this.’

      I thanked her and ate the hot meal that was waiting for me. This welcome, so homely, simple and happy, made me relax; it gave me the peace of mind I needed after the temptation of that ton of gold. The door opened.

      ‘Good evening, everybody.’ Two girls came into the room, just as if they were at home.

СКАЧАТЬ