by Lotta Bangs
Chapter 7
Second Day at the Embassy
I had a great relaxing sleep. Got myself together, put on the headband with built-in side-swept wispy bangs and went downstairs for an early breakfast.
Bryan was also up. He joined me in line, recommended the mushroom, bacon and tomato omelet, which I ordered with a fresh vegetable juice.
“You do look much better after your sleep Alessandra. Good to see.
“You weren’t really serious yesterday were you? About Coke’s being a poison?” he asked after his first sip of OJ.
“Sorry, but I was. Do you know what happens when a person swigs just one can of that stuff?”
“No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”
I grinned. “First the 10 teaspoons of sugar hits your system, spiking your blood sugar.”
“Oh, come on,” he objected, “nobody could drink something with 10 spoonfuls of sugar in it—they’d bring it straight up again.”
“Not if it had added phosphoric acid to cut the sugar taste, inhibit the sugar action, and give Coke that famous extra bite. Paint remover’s great for covering up a cloying sweetness.” My grin was pure evil.
Bryan winced.
The omelette was delicious, and not greasy, though cooked in butter.
“Sugar’s also much more addictive than the cocaine they originally used to keep people coming back for more. That’s why Coke is the world’s largest buyer of sugar and why so many other foods are unnecessarily sweetened with it, despite sugar’s known tooth-rotting propensity.”
Bryan looked doubtful.
“Of course, the sugar has often been replaced with the equivalent in high fructose corn syrup made from GMO corn, and that causes horrific problems of its own, which you can look up for yourself. But I believe all the Coke sold in South America is still laced only with sugar.
“The phosphoric acid irritates the stomach. The high carbonation which makes Coke so nice and bubbly light, causes belching. So you burp up some acid reflux which damages the lower esophagus. Frequent mechanical damage here increases the risk of esophageal cancer.
“Also, that carbonation of soft drinks releases tons of CO2, a greenhouse gas, into the atmosphere.
“The stomach eases its excess acidity quickly by drawing calcium from the blood as a buffer.
“But free calcium is essential for muscle and brain function, so your blood has to pull more from your bones to restore its levels. Unless of course if you drink milk with your Coke or take supplemental calcium.”
Bryan pulled a face.
“Some people do. Okay, the big sugar hit causes an insulin burst 20 minutes after consumption. Your liver immediately converts that sugar to fat.
“Forty minutes after your drink, the caffeine has dilated your pupils. Your blood pressure rises as your liver turns some fat back into sugar and dumps it into your blood.
“Caffeine blocks the adenosine receptors in the neural membrane, preventing drowsiness, and by increasing adrenalin production, it gives your entire system an extra burst of energy, speeding up brain and nerve activity.
“You’re very alert now. At 45 minutes the caffeine increases production of Dopamine, the feel-good neurotransmitter which stimulates the brain pleasure centers. As a vasodilator, Dopamine reduces blood pressure, increases sodium excretion and urine output and also reduces insulin production. You are now high but need the loo.
“After an hour, the phosphoric acid boosts your metabolism by binding with the free calcium, magnesium and zinc in the gut, if you’ve ingested any recently, so that milk drink didn’t benefit you long.
“Instead of those minerals being used to strengthen you, they are just excreted. Again these have to be replenished by drawing more from your weakening bones, leading to osteoporosis at a very early age.
“Phosphoric acid also interferes with iron absorption.
“Caffeine’s additional diuretic effect removes electrolytes, sodium, and all the water that was in the Coke or milk, leaving you dehydrated and thirstier than before your drink.
“After that threefold attack on your kidneys, you’re now bursting to go.
“Soon you have a sugar crash, usually become subdued or feel irritable, and probably want another Coke.
“Of course, as you drink it, the phosphoric acid is dissolving your tooth enamel. The sugar is doing its part too and the can’s inner coating of the endocrine disruptor Bisphenol A (BPA), which has been linked to loads of problems, is adding its poisons to the mixture.
“You may even be absorbing aluminum by touch from the outside of the can, especially if you like to squeeze it flat in your hands. Aluminum builds up in your body to later cause Alzheimer’s and various cancers.
“Food grade phosphoric acid still contains arsenic compounds which also build up in your body. Unfortunately, Wikipedia didn’t give the exact quantities, but any arsenic at all is too much.
“The classical method of poisoning with arsenic involves giving minute doses often. As concentrations of just 5 parts per billion, or .005 ppm showed impaired cognitive function in a study conducted on schoolchildren in Maine, this is quite significant.
“Meanwhile all the stress and effort your liver is putting in to bring your seesawing levels to a more even keel, prevents its doing other more important repair work.
“If you opt for the Diet option, well, nerve-disrupting Aspartame is also a known carcinogen. It fuels central nervous system imbalance and disorders in the brain.
“And if the can or bottle has been warmed, like in your car boot or while left outside too long before being moved under cover, the Aspartame turns into Formaldehyde which causes even worse problems.
“See, poison through and through.”
Bryan looked queasy now. “You’re really sure about all this?”
“Yes. It’s all on the internet. The Coke recipe was stolen and has been published on the internet for years. There are six herbal extracts in there too for flavor, but not enough to do you any good.
“Coke’s also used by cops to break down and remove the blood, brains and gore spilt at an accident or crime scene. Just takes two bottles poured over the evidence and a swish of water to wash it all down the drain.”
* * *
Bryan leaned back in his chair and gave me a thoughtful look. “You remind me of a cat I used to have.
“She’d been born feral so was naturally suspicious and fierce. Took me years to tame her enough to accept medication without trying to kill me.
“I don’t think she ever forgave me for having her spayed. Sort of removed her purpose in life; she never found another one.
“She enjoyed regular meals and being parasite-free, so never bothered to leave, but she didn’t really trust me and wouldn’t allow me to pat her.”
“You should feel honored that she stayed with you despite her sadness at missing out on a family.” I was surprised that Bryan was so insightful. I wondered if other cat lovers or haters would pick up on my cat genes.
It wasn’t worth commenting on my lack of trust. I had been treated as an enemy where I should have found refuge. Why should I trust anyone at the embassy?
Mrs. Hammond found us still at breakfast. “Good to see you’re an early riser, Alessandra. I don’t approve of slugabeds.
“Your eye-bags are all gone, too. Ah, the resilience of youth—it would have taken me a week of juice fasting and early nights to recover from that.
“Your taekwondo instructor has been located and will be available to see you in two hours.”
As I was free until then, I returned to my room to complete reading a bunch of eTexts and write critiques of the ideas expressed in them.
I had now completed an entire semester’s work, but couldn’t move on until it had been assessed. So I signed on for a pre-med science course, downloaded the texts and began to speed-read them.
* * *
Changed into my plain white gi, with black obi and white flip-flops which I removed just inside the
door, before approaching the master in the same large interrogation room.
I bowed respectfully and greeted my taekwondo instructor in easy Korean, better than his, as being of Japanese descent, he hadn’t been raised with the language.
Master Inque now resided and had his own dojo in one of the satellite towns of Buenos Aires. He checked out my form in a private class observed by several embassy officials.
I told him in fluent Japanese that I had been studying aikido and Shotokan karate too, but would not name the schools I had attended.
He too was impressed with my progress and gladly identified me as his former pupil, offered me his email address and asked that I stay in touch.
After Master Inque departed, I was told to change and return to the interrogation room.
* * *
My room and bathroom had not only been bugged during my absence, but were now fitted with powerful, minute video cameras—there were three in the bathroom, but only two in the main room, one directed at the desk, the other at my bed.
I washed my face and neck, wrung out a face washer, gathered my clothes, and stepped into the bugged wardrobe to wipe off the sweat and change. I fluffed out my hair and put on another headband with thicker bangs, then stormed down to the interrogation room.
* * *
“Which filthy pedophile installed three video cameras in my bathroom?” I demanded loudly as I threw open the door.
“Still think you’re so gorgeous that every male in the world is hot for you, Allie?”
It was the chubby, now 14-year-old son of neighbors, who had peeped at Alessandra and tried to molest her in her own bed at three.
He had been the whole reason for the concentrated taekwondo lessons. His so-proper, conservative parents were probably the ones who denounced her family.
Unfortunately, Alessandra hadn’t been around long enough for payback—I’d fix that right now.
I launched myself at Felipe, kicking at his neck and throwing a volley of fast blows with the edges of both hands at his nose, eyes and ears as he fell under me. Then I kicked him twice in the ribs and once in the guts, stepping away before anyone had moved to stop me.
Absolutely furious, I strode over to the chief interrogator, no longer hiding behind the table.
“How dare you bring that piece of scum to see me? Do you know that he tried to molest me when I was three?
“Is this your idea of payback for my lack of co-operation? You foul panderer.
“I kicked him in the balls without any training back then and he’s lucky I didn’t kill him now.”
I narrowed my eyes, in sudden realization.
“I know what you are too—you’re so excited by the action, you’ve got a hard-on and are just about ready to blow.
“You’re one of the old Argentine régime’s chief torturers, you bastard.”
He shot his load then without caring who noticed the stain.
“You filthy slime!
“So that proves the US was as complicit in all that foulness as we know they were in Chile, bringing down an elected popular government to support a murderous dictator instead. Just because they couldn’t allow their own people to see that a Socialist régime could be freer than the US Capitalist system.”
* * *
I turned and stalked out of the room, selected two cans of coke from a drinks machine and returned to my area, jamming the door closed with two diamond nail files.
I took over the surveillance equipment, hacked into the network, copied a few minutes earlier recording of my empty rooms on each camera and fed that back on a continuous repeat, deleting the previous recording.
Then I stripped off my bloodied clothes, soaped and rinsed them out several times in cold water, placed them in my basin and poured the Coke over them.
I located and copied the tapes of my entering the Embassy and all the others in which I had featured.
There had been three different inside cameras aimed at the embassy door, six outside ones covering the portico and approaches, dozens in the cafeteria, and eight in the interrogation room, giving me a choice of viewpoints. Each tape was remarkably clear with great sound.
I copied what I wanted to my private cache, deleted all the master tapes, and posted a few choice excerpts to YouTube.
I was now so upset I was shaking.
I washed myself, rinsed the Coke out of my clothes, shampooed them, rinsed and hung them to dry over the bath. All the blood spatters were gone but they were now beige instead of white. It would bleach out.
I dressed, redid my hair, removed the nail files, and went to lunch.
* * *
Bryan came and sat with me for much appreciated moral support. He didn’t say anything at all, but his presence helped calm me.
When the tears started, he offered me a small packet of Kleenex and a bottle of still water he’d brought with him.
I nodded my gratitude, but couldn’t speak for a while. When I had regained some control I asked him to get me an appointment with the ambassador ASAP.
Bryan immediately put through my request on his cell phone.
“How did you know about his history? None of us knew anything until the embassy started to receive phone calls and emails about him.”
“I didn’t know for sure; I just guessed. Leap of logic. It was all obvious once I noticed his arousal and added that to the earlier line of questioning.
“I’ve seen and studied other older pedophiles than Felipe. This guy’s a sado-masochist who gets off on both torturing children and being punished by them.
“If I were kinky, I probably could have owned him, for a while at least.”
“Somebody put a tape of your telling him off onto YouTube. I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that either?”
I grinned.
“There’s a horde of television reporters, paparazzi and other newsmen outside clamoring for an interview. You game to see them?”
“Sure, why not? But I’ll need to see the ambassador first.”
* * *
Understanding that I must have viewed all the security tapes to have put such telling information on YouTube, the ambassador was wary. He probably expected another shake-down.
“Sir, you should know that I’ve wiped all the security tapes the inquisitor held, including many featuring yourself. None of them was older than a month, but I haven’t been able to access any earlier storage repository.”
The man looked so relieved that I figured the major had only been stationed there for a short time.
“You’re not quite the innocent child you appear, Miss Alba, but as you’ve safeguarded my secrets, I won’t pry into yours.” He gave me a genuine smile and treated me as an equal after that.
We appeared together on the embassy portico, he all statesmanlike and dignified, me gone suddenly shy and tongue-tied, nervously trying to hide behind handfuls of my hair, as any normal 5-year-old might.
When a reporter asked why I had attacked Felipe, I managed to raise tears again.
“He lived next door and was always watching me. He was creepy and made me feel awful.
“One night when I was three, I woke up and he was in my bedroom. He had climbed onto my bed, tossed off the blankets and was kneeling over me, his legs outside mine. He had turned on the bedside lamp and had his hand inside my clothes. He was rubbing me between the legs. He had no pants on and his thing was big and sort of bouncing up and down.
“I wore long pajama pants and he had already slid them down partway, but he couldn’t get them down any further.
“I acted happy and smiled at him. I grabbed the pyjama waist and wriggled around, pretending to try to ease them off.
“He lifted off me a bit to give me space. I grabbed him by the balls with both hands and tried to twist them off. He screamed and jumped back. I grabbed my lamp and whacked him there hard with the base.
“Dad came in and held him for me as I kicked him in his sensitive spot. Then Dad punched him and called the police who
came and took Felipe away. He had used his family’s ladder to climb up to my window and remove the fly screen.
“Before the court date, Dad was told by a friend that we had been denounced, so we fled. I got separated from my parents and that horrible boy stayed free because I didn’t appear to give evidence against him.
“I apologize for causing him so much damage today, but I had already been very angry and his taunting me was the last straw. I simply couldn’t hold back. I’d much rather have just castrated him with a knife.”
I had stopped weeping and was now glaring defiantly at the reporters.
One paparazzo crowded too close, but scuttled back fast when I raised my hands in defensive mode. While I had my hands up, I signaled in the private TY7 code: “Miss you guys. Stay safe.” That should help them recognize me if they hadn’t yet done so.
The ambassador intervened. “Give her breathing space please. Miss Alba has been in hiding for over a year. She’s not used to crowds, and won’t allow strangers to touch her.”
We returned inside where I interviewed three lawyers who wanted to represent my interests.
I retained a sharp young blonde woman with steely gray eyes because she didn’t even pretend sympathy for my situation. Sharon Binder treated my case as just another job and handled it well.
Bryan developed a huge crush on her.
By the evening, the torturer had been identified on several internet sites as a former US Special Services major and there was a public outcry to arrest and try him for his many crimes. Of course, he had already disappeared.
* * *
It took another fairly uneventful month before all my paperwork was finalized. The spy devices were removed from my rooms and other private places in the embassy by the new security chief.
I was startled but pleased when the Ambassador asked me privately to check his areas really were clear. They were.
He slipped me a good sum of cash, some of which I used to have my clothes laundered and ironed. I made more by teaching self-defense at a nearby gym.
I hid my growing out extension lumps by wearing several reversed headbands with heavier bangs, wearing one behind another to cover more of my extension attachments. I usually tied up my hair in a low ponytail for my defense classes.
The gym owner helped me register a dojo and explained that I would need to have certificates printed up to accredit my students’ successes. I worked up a lovely logo of sparring initial letters: TMAA for Taj’s Martial Arts Academy, happy to discover that I could use a ‘stage name’ for all my Martial Arts work.