by John Koloen
The assistant prosecutor outlined for his supervisor what he’d learned from his phone interview.
“Did you find a smoking gun?” the supervisor asked in Portuguese.
“Not as such,” Lima replied. “I think he’ll cooperate, though. I think he’s frustrated and wants to get this over with.”
“Don’t we all.”
14
“I really wish you would’ve talked to Stan before making a decision,” Maggie was saying as she and Duncan rode their bikes along the lakeshore on a windless Saturday, the smooth blue water appearing solid enough to walk on. They rode parallel to each other at an unhurried pace, making conversation easy, though Duncan wasn’t fond of the subject.
“I don’t like lawyers,” he said. “You can’t get a straight answer out of them.”
“I know that,” she said, with the exasperation of one who’d heard it many times before.
“Well, then, you have your answer.”
“It’s not an answer.”
“I talked with the prosecutor, another lawyer by the way,” Duncan said, his voice rising. “And I talked to whatshisname, Montes, the lawyer I know in Manaus. How many lawyers do I have to talk to?”
Riding several blocks in silence, they turned west to begin the return trip to Maggie’s high-rise, stopping for coffee at a cafe with outdoor seating. Duncan ordered French fries with his coffee while Maggie ordered iced tea. It was early afternoon, the lunch crowd had come and gone and many of the tables had yet to be cleared as the couple staked out a cafe table on the edge of the courtyard farthest from the kitchen, where they could talk without having to raise their voices.
“Stan said he would have suggested that you return the call simply as a matter of courtesy. And already you’ve practically packed your bags without knowing anything—”
“I know a lot,” Duncan interrupted. “I talked with the prosecutor, and he just wants to wrap things up just like I do.”
“But you know so little about what they really want.”
“You’re acting like there’s some kind of conspiracy,” Duncan said. “Look, I’m grateful for what Stan has done about the Johnsons. I think that will be over soon. I really do appreciate it. And I owe you for it.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I don’t mean literally,” he said, leaning over to land an awkward kiss on her cheek.
Maggie’s impish nose wrinkled as she smiled.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you love me for it.”
“I love you for a lot of things. But not your stubbornness. You’re not a lawyer. Just because you’ve got a PhD doesn’t mean you know everything.”
She clearly had more to say, but hesitated. She could see that Duncan wanted to change the subject, but it was too important to ignore.
“I know you hate to hear this,” Maggie said, tentatively. “But Stan says you should talk to a lawyer who has practiced in Brazil, who knows the justice system. He doesn’t have the expertise, he says.”
“I thought his law firm was international?”
“It’s a boutique firm. Their specialty is working with a handful of wealthy clients like me.”
“So he couldn’t really help me anyway? Really?” Duncan said with mock astonishment.
“No,” she said with feigned meekness. “I don’t know why you persist. He’s a very nice and intelligent man, and he’s one of the reasons I’m doing as well as I am. I trust his judgment, and so should you.”
“And his judgment is to talk to another lawyer. Swell.”
Maggie smiled slyly.
“What can I say?”
She waited for a response as a waiter brought out the fries, which Duncan began to devour hungrily, offering them to his girlfriend who daintily pulled one from the pile and finished it in small bites, holding her hand up when he offered more.
“They’re good, aren’t they?” he said, looking up from the plate. “Nice and crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside and sprinkled with a salty herb concoction that, I don’t know, makes me want to order more.”
“I think you missed your true calling,” she chuckled. “You should be a food critic.”
Disarmed by her laughter, he couldn’t help but join in.
“Okay, okay, you win,” he said playfully as he finished the fries, wiping his greasy hands on a napkin. “I’ll call my lawyer in Manaus. He’s told me he’d help me if I need it. Will that help you get over whatever it is that’s bothering you?”
“I was thinking more of a heavyweight, you know, an attorney with a reputation, someone the authorities respect. From what you’ve told me, this Montes doesn’t qualify.”
Duncan bristled.
“I know Montes. I’ve worked with him. I trust him. If he says it’s okay for me to appear at this hearing, then it’s okay with me.”
Though she disagreed, Maggie realized that Duncan had made up his mind and that it would be pointless to continue the discussion.
“I just want you to be happy and safe,” she said amenably. “I guess I just want to remind you that your trips to Brazil haven’t exactly been uneventful, in case you’ve forgotten.”
15
Given how his career in the video industry hadn’t shifted into a higher gear, and given how Carolyn McKenzie had tired of living in a school bus, though located semi-permanently in a Southern California RV park with above-average amenities, Cody Boyd was casting about for something with regular hours and a career path. As they had lived together since leaving Biodynamism, Carolyn’s hints about their future had taken hold of Boyd to the extent that he could no longer sidestep them. It wasn’t a question of whether but when they would get married. They’d made that decision not long after moving to California where she quickly found work as a database manager while he pursued his dream of becoming a filmmaker. She was content with this arrangement until she found herself overwhelmed by maternal instincts. It happened while she sat on a bench facing the small fenced playground of a preschool. It was a sunny day like most days, and she could not take her eyes off the toddlers giggling and stumbling and picking themselves up, only to giggle and stumble some more. She watched them like a stalker. From there, she found herself gravitating toward online videos of children’s parties. She pined for a child of her own, of their own.
Boyd had no problem with getting married. It’s something he wanted to do and he knew it was time to do it. However, he didn’t think they were ready, financially, to start a family. At least he wasn’t. His hours were unpredictable, and lately he was thinking about how to leverage his master’s in entomology into a more reliable, better paying job. But all he could find were adjunct faculty positions that were lower paying and less reliable than his already low-paying unreliable job. He worried that at some point she would lose patience with him.
Since they lived frugally to save money to buy a house, their marriage was a simple affair with a nondenominational minister and a small guest list. There was never a formal proposal. They’d been talking about marriage, and one day he asked her if she thought they should get married and she smiled, nodded and embraced and kissed as if they’d made official their undying love for each other. With the marriage certificate in hand, the conversation quickly turned to children and what it would take to start a family. All that Carolyn was certain of was that they weren’t going to raise a child in a converted school bus.
Not quite desperate but willing to expand his options, Boyd considered falling back on his Bachelor of Science degree in biology, which qualified him to teach middle school or high school science courses, though he was uncertain whether he needed teacher certification credentials before he could start or could take courses while teaching. It was something he had given little thought to until now, when it started crowding out his filmmaking fantasy. Things were changing so quickly, so suddenly, that he stopped screening his calls, afraid that he would miss a call back. But if he hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t have picked up when a
former employer called with an unexpected offer.
16
The first person he told about the call, besides Carolyn, was Howard Duncan, his former professor and mentor. He had a soft spot for Duncan. They’d been through a lot together and he trusted him.
Duncan was preparing for a trip to Brazil when Boyd’s name popped up on his phone. They hadn’t spoken for several months and eased into the conversation with the usual pleasantries of those who know each other well. And then Boyd changed the subject.
“You can’t be serious,” Duncan said. “You’re going to work for those bastards?”
“I haven’t decided. But the money is so good and I’m not in a good place with my job, so, yeah, I’ll probably do it. Carolyn doesn’t like it.”
“So, what’re you going to do for them? You’re not going back to the lab, are you?”
“The guy I talked to didn’t say a lot except that they want me to go back to Brazil to collect specimens, if you can believe that.”
Duncan reacted with dead air.
“Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I don’t understand. Why do they need specimens?”
“Well, I asked that and the guy either didn’t know much or he was lying. Given what I know about the company, I’d say he didn’t know much. I haven’t been following it closely but I haven’t heard anything about Reptilus in the news and I looked online and I can’t find anything recent.”
“Really? You didn’t find anything about me?”
“No, why?”
“Oh, it’s just that whenever I look I see page after page of the same stuff I’ve been seeing for years.”
“It’s old news, man,” Boyd said. “Try limiting your search to the past year. The only thing I saw about you was some event you attended with your girlfriend.”
Duncan was stunned.
“Really? Not even the Johnsons? You know, they’ve been blaming me for years.”
“Not even the Johnsons. You sound disappointed. Try it, you’ll see. You’re not an item anymore.”
“So where were we? He wouldn’t say why?” Duncan asked.
“Nope.”
“Sounds like par for the course. He said they tried to call you—”
“I wouldn’t take a call from them if my life depended on it,” Duncan said, with great certitude. “If you want my advice, walk away. Just walk away. You can’t trust the bastards.”
“Yeah, I know. But the money, man, it’s too good to pass up.”
“How much, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“A quarter mil. It might not be much to someone living with a billionaire—”
“Millionaire. Make that multi-millionaire,” Duncan joked.
“Okay, multi-millionaire.”
“It is a lot of money. But you’d be working for a company that doesn’t give a shit about anybody.”
“I know. I know,” Boyd agreed. “Carolyn said the same thing. But a quarter mil for a week’s work. I could pay off my student loans overnight and have a lot left.”
Duncan had gotten caught up in the conversation, conjuring every objection he could think of, but he was well aware of how expensive graduate school was, and that all the students who had worked for him amassed a huge pile of IOUs along with their diplomas.
“I never gave it much thought until I started to make payments, and then it was like, holy shit, this is gonna suck me dry. It’s a big deal to me and to be able to wipe the slate clean in a week, it’s like, I don’t know, like I get to start over, debt-free. When I’ve paid this off, I will never go into debt again, except maybe to buy a house that Carolyn wants to do yesterday. I’ll be done with the student loans, and we’ll have enough left over for a big down payment, and life will be good ever after.”
“Like a fairy tale?”
“Sorta, but it’s my fairy tale.”
Money hadn’t been a problem for Duncan. A naturally frugal person, he could get by with very little and his savings and investments easily covered his expenses. Maggie paid for travel expenses and they alternated paying for dinners out and entertainment. And if he wanted to, he could move in with her. But if he did, it would have nothing to do with finances. Even though he spent half his nights at her condo, he was not quite ready to give up the independence of keeping his own apartment.
“So, where you going to find the bugs?”
“The guy didn’t want to tell me, so I told him I wasn’t interested. I mean, really. So he told me. He like, whispered over the phone a place called Jacareacanga.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Neither did I, so I looked it up. It’s way north of where we were. It’s in the state of Pará.”
“Never heard of that either.”
“It’s a hot spot for illegal lumbering and mining. Carolyn says it’s too dangerous.”
“You’re not going alone, are you?”
“The only solid information I got out of the guy was the name of the place and how much I’d get paid. I told him I’d think about it.”
“And that’s why you called me? To get my advice, which, you know, I’ve already given?”
“I know. I knew what you were gonna say. My wife doesn’t think it’s a good idea and even I don’t think it’s a good idea. But the money, man. That would solve a lot of problems for me, for us.”
Duncan realized there was nothing he could say that would discourage his former protégé from passing up the big payday.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna call Jason Gruber. You remember him, right?”
“Yeah. How’s he doing?”
“Last I talked to him he was in a good place. He had PTSD for a long time. Said counseling really helped.”
“I’d have PTSD if I incinerated somebody with a flamethrower, too,” Duncan said snarkily.
“Give the guy a break. It wasn’t intentional. Besides, a lot of bad things happened.”
“I know, I know. It’s insensitive of me and I’m sorry I said it. But it’s a statement of fact, too.”
“Don’t remind me.”
17
Howard Duncan was reminded of the oppressive humidity of Manaus as soon as he walked from the airport baggage claim to a shuttle for the ride to his hotel in the city’s historic district. It was early November and the rainy summer season was just getting under way. He could tell from the cloudy sky that rain was imminent.
Duncan knew enough Portuguese from his scientific work in the rainforest to get by. He could read menus, traffic signs, newspaper headlines and advertisements, and participate in simple conversations but was in no way bilingual, relying on someone in his group with greater fluency or, as a last resort, a translation app on his phone.
His second story-room included all the amenities of a mid-priced American hotel and looked very much the same, albeit at half the cost. The room overlooked a heavily planted courtyard with a shallow pool. He planned to stay only long enough to meet with the prosecutor, give his statement and then return to the States with the intention of never returning to Brazil.
But first, he had to meet with Andre Montes, who had agreed to speak with the prosecutor on his behalf. Montes was relaxed and straightforward, unlike many of the lawyers Duncan had known. He didn’t beat around the bush, and he didn’t try to make it seem he was doing his client a favor by taking on his case. And as far as Duncan was concerned, there was no case, at least not against him.
After calling Maggie to let her know he’d arrived, he dialed Montes.
“Dr. Duncan,” Montes said frantically. “Did you get my voicemail?”
Duncan looked at his phone.
“When did you leave a voicemail? I haven’t gotten it. What did you say?”
“I said, you should cancel your trip.”
18
“Why?” Duncan stammered. “I just got here.”
“It would be better if we talk in my office,” Montes said.
“You think the phones ar
e tapped?”
“Not by the authorities, but I think we should meet.”
“Have I done something wrong?” Duncan asked, suddenly filled with dread. “Are they charging me for the way I left the country? I was told that wouldn’t happen. The prosecutor said there isn’t even a record it ever happened.”
“Just because they can’t find a record doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Besides, it’s not the government I’m concerned about,” Montes said gravely.
Sitting on the edge of the queen bed, the curtains pulled open to reveal the peaceful courtyard with its lush greenery and ornate stonework, Duncan struggled to fill in the blanks of what the lawyer was telling him. But it didn’t make sense.
“What’s going on?”
“Where are you staying?”
Duncan read the hotel’s name from the room’s keycard.
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
19
“I thought it was odd when they asked me if I was staying at the Hotel Leonardo,” Duncan was telling Maggie Cross over the phone, “you know, where they process international travelers. It was like they knew. There was some confusion because I didn’t have a tourist visa, but the prosecutor told me I didn’t need one because I was invited by the government. But that got cleared up with a phone call.”
“And now your lawyer thinks something else is going on?”
“I’m really glad he speaks English. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have a clue, they were talking so fast. He says there’s some kind of private investigation going on. He said the family of one of the kidnappers is doing it.”