“Have to,” Crunch said. His hand flew to his mouth, as if he were trying to force back the words he had just spoken.
“I thought so, Crunch,” Biff said. He was winning this man over. Biff felt a definite sympathy for Crunch. “Why do you work for him?”
Crunch was silent for a minute. When he finally spoke, there was a surprising bitterness in his voice.
“Crunch have brother. Little brother. He do bad thing one time. Have to leave Curaçao. He go to Martinique. Lots of Carib Indians still in Martinique.”
Crunch stopped speaking. This was the longest statement he had made. It seemed to pain him to talk so much.
“In Martinique, brother work for boss Dietz. He tell boss Dietz what he do. He hope to come back to Curaçao. Boss Dietz say he help.” Crunch paused again.
“No. He come to Crunch. Say if Crunch don’t work for him, do everything he say, he tell police. If police catch little brother, him go way to jailhouse for long time.”
“Crunch go back to house now. You stay here. No use magic to get out of jail.”
“I promise, Crunch,” Biff said. “I promise not to use magic.”
Biff felt so sorry for the giant at that moment, he wouldn’t have walked out on him had Crunch left the door wide open.
Crunch didn’t, however. He made sure the door was locked.
In Martinique, Charlie Keene and Derek were coming out of the Fisheries Commissioner’s office. They had the papers. The working permit had been signed, and it was now tucked in Derek’s inside coat pocket.
“I never heard so many questions, Mr. Keene,” Derek said. “That man asked the same ones over and over again.”
“He was stalling, Derek. He didn’t want to give us that permit,” Biff’s uncle said.
“I don’t trust that clerk. I have a feeling he may be dealing with Dietz. Just how, I haven’t figured out yet. But I’ll bet Dietz promised to cut him in if he could hold up giving us the papers.”
“Well, he did give them to us,” Derek remarked.
“After a struggle. Come on, Derek, let’s get back to the plane and hop over to La Trinité.”
“That’s where my father had his headquarters, isn’t it?”
“Yes. That’s where I last saw him, and that was the postmark on the letters and the packaged pearls he sent us.”
Charlie and Derek took a battered taxi driven by a barefoot native back to the airport. The water basin where Charlie’s plane was tied up to a long ramp adjoined the airport.