Luisa went upstairs and as she walked by her bathroom to check on Carlos, she noticed that she hadn't fully closed her cosmetic drawer earlier that morning. When she shut it, she saw Jorge's little white vial of pills in the back of the drawer and realized that he had forgotten to take his pill with him and he was due to take his monthly pill tonight. They had both been taking the pills for a couple of months and Jeffrey had been right; the little pill continued to work its magic in just a few hours. She hoped Jorge would be all right without it for two weeks. She wondered if she should call him to come back and pick it up, but she became distracted when Carlos tried to climb out of his crib and she forgot about it. Several hours later it crossed her mind when she opened the drawer to get her makeup removal cream and once again saw Jorge's white vial. Well, she thought, Jorge's already in the air and there's nothing I can do about it now. I'll remind him the next time he goes to Brazil to be sure and take some pills with him and keep them at our home in Rio.
Jorge slept fitfully on the plane and awoke shortly before the big jet landed in Rio. His Brazilian driver was waiting for him. Jorge would spend two nights in Rio, meeting with his father and taking care of routine business matters, and then fly by company plane to where the company boat was kept, which would take him to their gold mine operation deep in the heart of the Amazon.
When he landed in Rio, he went directly to the offices of Ortega & Ortega. Soon he was immersed in the business decisions that being a co-owner of the largest gold mine in Brazil brought. It was late when his driver took him to his home. He had felt "off" for a few days and eagerly looked forward to the relief the little pill he had brought with him would bring. He poured himself a glass of water and reached into the side pocket of his attaché bag for the pill bottle. He couldn't find it. He took everything out of the bag, turned it upside down, and shook it, but it wasn't there. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember actually packing it. Well, it's only for two weeks, he thought. I'll take a pill as soon as I get back to California.
After a sleepless night, he went to the office early the next morning and began tackling the paperwork which had piled up since his last trip. He knew he had a number of meetings scheduled and he was anxious to get this task behind him. When his secretary arrived at the office, he called her into his office.
“Consuela, I see that you’ve made a mistake on my appointment schedule.” He began yelling at her. “There is no room for anyone at this company who makes such stupid mistakes.”
The outer office became very quiet as Consuela began to softly cry. Jorge couldn't believe he had yelled at an employee and one of his most loyal employees at that. It was completely out of character for him to act in that manner.
“I’m sorry, Consuela. I’m feeling very jet lagged. Please forgive me.” He knew it wasn't jet lag. What he really needed was Freedom and he couldn't get it. Even if he had Luisa send it to him, it would be too late. He would be deep in the Amazon jungle by the time it arrived. He would just have to hold on for twelve more days.
Later that day, his father called him into his office. Tomas was an avid collector of South American art and the displays in his office were often featured in various magazines and journals. His collection was one of the finest in the country. Jorge sat down in the chair across from his father, separated by the massive Brazilian mahogany desk his father had recently purchased. Jorge looked around the room. Tribal masks graced the walls along with brightly colored native art. Wooden carvings, totems, and textiles of all sorts filled other spaces. Jorge had always been fascinated by the nursing serape, which supposedly had belonged to the wife of a tribal chief. It was embroidered in various horizontal geometric patterns on a deep orange fabric. Embossed on each side of the central vertical opening for breastfeeding were brightly colored flowers. It was beautiful to look at and even if the story wasn't true, it always made for good conversation.
His father began, "Jorge, things have changed in the two weeks since you were last here. There have been a number of murders in the jungle. A tribal malcontent has been urging a group of young native men to attack the various gold mines in the area at night. When the guards step away from the others, generally to relieve themselves, they are attacked and killed. Their necks are slashed from ear to ear with the machetes these vicious killers carry. We haven't had a problem so far, but the Moreno family has had several of their guards murdered. The other owners have stopped going to the mines, letting their on-site managers run things. I'm concerned for your safety. Perhaps it would be wiser if you didn't go to the mines on this trip. Why don't you let Jose, our manager, go on your behalf?"
Jorge thought for a moment and responded, "Well, I'm here. I have the best guards money can buy and I know they'll protect me. What kind of message would we send to these rebels and to our employees if I became afraid to go to the mines? One of the reasons we've been so successful is because we personally go to the mines and know exactly what's going on at each one. No matter how much we trust Jose or any of the others, it won't be the same. When these malcontents see that the owner of the mines doesn’t fear them, it will send a very powerful message. Don't worry. I will be careful."
His mind flashed back to the Memorial Day weekend at Blue Coyote and he remembered when he had told the other guests that he was going to continue to take Freedom; he couldn't go through a drug withdrawal in the Amazon. It would be too dangerous and not fair to Luisa, Carlos, and his employees. The words were coming back to haunt him as he feared that was exactly what was going to happen. He tossed and turned all night, getting up before dawn and packing for the plane ride and the trip on the river. He was exhausted. Not a good way to go into the Amazon when you had to be alert to everything because of the ever-present dangers. And now there was this new danger, a group of dangerous natives, bent on wreaking death and destruction on the mines and their owners.
The plane ride and the river trip were uneventful. Jorge still marveled at the unending canopy of vibrant green trees beneath him as the small company plane flew over the jungle. They landed at a small airstrip near the city of Belem. Within minutes, Jorge's gear was transferred from the plane onto the waiting boat. Jorge made sure the pistol he wore at his hip was loaded and checked to make sure the large knife he concealed in his boot was also there. He was flanked by seven guards, all heavily armed. He felt safe.
Jose accompanied Jorge and as soon as they arrived at the mine, Jose gave him a quick tour of what had happened in the two weeks since he had last been at the mine. It was amazing that the land could continue to yield so much of the treasured gold. Because of a worldwide economic recession, investors wanted more and more gold to act as a hedge against declining prices on the worlds' stock markets. The demand was outstripping supply and driving up the price.
During the tour, Jorge carefully reviewed the procedure the company used to ship the gold. The gold always left the mine locations in heavily armed boats. They were small and fast and could outrun any other boat intent on piracy. They carried four men, two at the helm, one aft and one in the front. A stack of gold ingots that had been smelted at the mine was positioned in the center of the boat. All of the men had submachine guns slung over their chests with a holstered sidearm on each hip. Although each man knew that piracy was always a possibility, there was very little chance that the boats or the men would become captives.
Night came quickly in the jungle. Fires were lit and the guards assumed their positions around the perimeter of the mine. Several men were sitting and standing around Jorge, making sure that no harm would come to the "chefe," as they referred to him. He slept in a hammock tied between two trees. One didn't sleep on the ground in the jungle. Not only did things go bump in the night, they slithered as well. He was exhausted, but sleep eluded him. In the past, he had found the jungle sounds soothing, but tonight they were frightening. He longed for Luisa and Carlos and his warm bed in California. He also longed for the comfortable feeling provided by his Freedom pill.
S
ometime just before dawn, when the jungle was at its darkest, he felt nature's call. He thought if he relieved himself, he could probably get some sleep. He debated with himself whether to get up or wait for dawn. The pressure on his bladder finally won.
He swung his feet over the side of the hammock and, exhausted, almost fell to the ground. He steadied himself and took a few steps away from the fire, but his judgment was off. Freedom was no longer in his body and he neglected to have one of his guards accompany him, a mistake he had never made in the past.
In the moonlit night he thought he saw a glint of flashing steel behind him. He turned quickly, but the cold blade of the heavy machete was quicker, slitting his throat from ear to ear. His last thoughts were of Luisa and Carlos. Dear God, watch over them, he prayed as his blood spurted from his throat, shooting in every direction. He pitched forward and before he hit the ground, the murderers beheaded him, taking their prize and leaving the body for his guards to find. It was all done within a matter of seconds.
One of the guards thought he heard a strange sound. He turned, realizing that Jorge was not in his hammock. He immediately sounded the alert and within minutes they found Jorge's body, still warm, lying in a massive pool of blood. The head was missing. Only his body was left at the bloody scene.
They quickly got Jose who wanted to know why Jorge had gone off without one of his guards. He took all of his pain and anguish out on the guards, screaming at them and blaming each one of them for letting this tragedy occur. Finally, he realized that it was not the fault of the guards. For some reason, Jorge had not taken a guard with him when he went left his hammock to relieve himself. Jose didn’t know about Freedom and how it had resulted in Jorge’s lack of judgment. He instructed the guards to wrap Jorge’s body in blankets and told them they were to go with him to escort the body back to Rio. No one wanted to be the one to tell Tomas. That task fell to Jose, the man now in charge.
Jose and several of the guards made their way to the offices of Ortega & Ortega in Rio. They had left Jorge's headless body, guarded, in a commercial cooler at the airport. In the way of the jungle, they knew that Jorge’s head would soon be brandished on a spear for all to see. Those who had taken the head would be considered heroes by the malcontents and some of the indigenous tribal people.
When they entered the large office building, Jose and the other men went directly to the office of Tomas Ortega. The secretary recognized Jose and realized from the somber faces that something very bad had happened. She called Senhor Ortega on the intercom; then opened the door to his office. Jose and the men entered and within moments she heard a primal scream. Jose threw the door open. "Water!” he yelled to Senhor Ortega's secretary. "Quickly, bring some water." She poured a glass of water from the carafe on the reception table and ran into the office where Tomas was slumped in his chair, his face chalky white. He tried to hold the glass in his hands, but they were trembling so badly he nearly dropped it. Jose held the glass to the old man's lips and told him to drink the water.
Grief-stricken, the old man wanted to know how it had happened. He listened intently as Jose told him everything he knew. Tomas could not understand why Jorge had not taken a guard with him. Jose had no answer; he only knew what the guards told him, that Jorge had not asked anyone to accompany him. Within minutes, they left the Ortega & Ortega office building and drove Senhor Ortega to his home. Tomas seemed to have aged twenty years in the last hour.
“Who have you told about this tragedy?” Tomas asked Jose.
“No one. We came here immediately. I did not want to be the one to tell Luisa. It’s not my place to do so and I knew you would want to be the one to tell her. I am concerned that your employees probably know what happened. Luisa should be told as soon as possible before she is called by the press or hears of it on the news.
"We must fly to California immediately. I need to tell her in person. You will come with me. There are questions she might ask that I can't answer," Tomas said. "I will call her parents when we land in California so they can be with her. Make all the arrangements necessary to have his body cremated immediately." Tomas did not want to see his son's body and he certainly didn't want Luisa to see Jorge's brutalized remains.
He went on, "Luisa will want a funeral service for Jorge to take place here in Rio. She may also want to have a small service in California. The families are so well known here that plans must be made. A funeral Mass for him will be attended by many. He can be cremated, but his ashes can't be scattered. See that the church has a place ready for his entombment, a cremation vault."
Jose silently vowed to never let Luisa know that her husband's head was probably on a spear somewhere in a remote jungle village in the Amazon. He only hoped the old man wouldn't hear about it, but from Tomas' discussion of cremating Jorge, he knew that the old man probably knew as well. Jose took care of the details for the service as they made their way to the airport to catch the long non-stop flight to Los Angeles.
The flight to California was a nightmare. Senhor Ortega wept on and off during the entire flight. Jose was glad they were in first class. At least there were fewer people to witness his grief. The thoughtful flight attendant kept a supply of Kleenex available. By prearrangement, Jorge's California driver met them at the airport. Jose told him what had happened and he, too, wept. Jorge had been much loved by the people who worked for him.
Tomas had been to California several times since his son had moved there, but the heavy traffic on the 405 Freeway in the airport area made his sad journey even worse. He wanted to tell Luisa and get it over with and being stuck in traffic just added to his grief. It was one o'clock in the afternoon, yet every traffic lane was filled with cars. It was like a giant parking lot snaking lazily into the distance.
He called Luisa's parents from his cell phone once he and Jose had an idea of what time they would arrive at Luisa's home. There was no way to break news of this type gently. Diego answered the phone. Tomas took a deep breath and began, "Diego, this is Tomas Ortega. I have some very sad news. My son was murdered yesterday at one of the company mines in the Amazon. I have flown from Rio with my manager, Jose, to tell Luisa, but I think it would be good if you and Juanita were with Luisa when she is told. We are just now leaving the Los Angeles airport for her home.”
The news of Jorge's death devastated Diego and Juanita. Once they had a chance to digest the terrible news related to them by Tomas, their thoughts turned to Luisa and Carlos. They agreed with Tomas, that it would be best if they were with Luisa when she was told. Arrangements were made for Jose and Tomas to pick up Diego and Juanita and then go directly to Luisa's home. "Do you think Luisa will be home?" Tomas asked Diego.
"Yes, it is Carlos' naptime and she never goes anywhere during that time. We will see you shortly."
Tomas and Jose picked up Diego and Juanita and drove to Luisa's nearby home. They were all quiet. What was there left to say? With heavy hearts, they got out of the car. Tomas told the driver to wait, as he and Jose needed to return to Rio. Jose had made reservations for them on a flight that left at eight p.m., but with the traffic, an international flight, and security lines, one had to plan on being at the airport several hours before the departure time for an international flight.
Luisa's maid opened the door in response to the doorbell. If she seemed surprised to see all of them, she didn't show it. "Mrs. Ortega, you have some guests. If you need me, I will be in the kitchen," Ana said.
Luisa came down the stairs, clearly surprised to see the four of them standing there, particularly Tomas and Jose. She looked at their faces and knew something had happened to Jorge. "What is it? What's happened? It's Jorge, isn't it? Where is he?" Her parents quickly crossed the tile floor and held her. She pushed them aside. "What's going on? Tell me." Her voice began to shake with emotion.
"Jorge was murdered yesterday in the Amazon by members of a lawless band of angry men led by a man who is intent on closing down the mines. It was a quick death. He didn't suffer," Tomas said, te
ars once again running down his cheeks.
Luisa's knees buckled. Diego caught her and led her to a nearby couch. She began to cry. "Dear God, what do I tell Carlos? He loved his father so much. We had a calendar and we would mark off each day until he came back. As young as he is, I think he understood. How do I go on without him?"
There was no way to respond to her questions. Tomas walked over to her. "I am so, so sorry. I asked him not to go. I told him the jungle had changed in the short time since he had last been there. He felt he would be safe and insisted on going. I will regret with every breath I take for the rest of my life that I did not forbid him to go."
Diego called Father Connery at the church. "Father, this is Diego Chaves. There has been a tragedy in our family. Could you come to Luisa's home? You've been here before. Please hurry." Father Connery said he was on his way. The Ortega family had been very generous to the church and Father Connery was ready to help in whatever way he could. Next, Diego called Selena and told her what had happened. She told him she would leave work immediately and be there as soon as possible.
As the tragic death of Jorge became a reality, they started the difficult task of making plans for the memorial services, both in Rio and the one Luisa wanted for Jorge in California. Tomas told Luisa that he had authorized the cremation of Jorge's body and Luisa agreed that this was the right decision to have been made under the circumstances. He told her that they would have a funeral Mass in Rio as well as at the local church and that Jorge's cremated remains would be entombed in Rio in an underground crypt in keeping with the tradition of cremation in the Catholic Church.
Tomas' secretary kept calling, telling him that the newspapers and others were asking for a statement from the company regarding the murder. Evidently one of the guards who had come from the mine had leaked the story to a newspaper in return for money. There were people to be called and things to be dealt with when a life was shortened by murder.
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