by PJ Skinner
‘Not really, chica,’ replied Gloria. ‘We are decoration and not expected to have an opinion.’
‘When will women’s lib arrive in Calderon?’ said Marta.
‘It’s taking a long time,’ said Gloria. ‘Men here are the worst.’
They both sighed.
Sam couldn’t help herself. ‘Do you think it’s coming on a plane? You have to liberate yourselves.’
‘Who asked you?’ retorted Marta.
‘Marta, she doesn’t mean anything by it. She doesn’t have any manners,’ interjected Gloria.
Sam, who was sure that she had exquisite manners, was not impressed by this comment but decided not to defend herself. She sighed and rolled her eyes. It seemed that this was the correct response, as Marta took this as an apology. Gloria got up to go to the toilet.
‘How come Gloria works at all if her father is Mr. Big?’ Sam said when Gloria was out of earshot.
‘Her father is a self-made man. He doesn’t mind subsidising her as long as she works a bit too. He is unusual amongst the rich here, who mostly inherited their money. He believes that everyone should work no matter how much money they have. Anyway, you know Gloria, she would be bored as one of the ladies who lunch.’
‘None of her friends work then?’
‘Ha! They’re too stuck up to work. They think they’re too good to have a job. They spend their time partying and getting drunk and drugged.’
Marta looked as if she would spit from disdain. Sam changed the subject.
Chapter VI
When Sam woke up the next morning, she felt like death. Altitude sickness combined with the aptly named Montezuma’s revenge meant that she couldn’t eat or breathe normally. Her nose was as dry as a desert, as were her eyes and throat. She drank lots of mineral water which she promptly threw up, and she spent exaggerated amounts of time in the bathroom deciding whether it was more urgent to evacuate her bowels from the top or the bottom. Mike was unsympathetic.
‘For God’s sake, Sam. Everyone knows they should take it easy for the first week or two in Calderon. It’s over a mile above sea-level.’
‘I would have known if you had told me,’ muttered Sam to herself.
‘I need you to be on form this morning. I’ve arranged a meeting here with Wilson Ortega, a Sierramarian geologist who’s been talking to me about some prospective exploration claims. I want you to tell me if you think they have any merit.’
‘Don’t worry about me, Mike. I’ll be fine,’ said Sam with grim determination. She wasn’t going to fall at the first hurdle. Marta made her a drink to rehydrate her, a disgusting mixture of salt and sugar, and she sat on her bed, waiting for it to kick in. She wondered where Mike had found Wilson. Probably at a disco.
When Wilson arrived at the flat, even Sam managed to focus long enough to peruse him from head to foot. He was a tall, handsome man with a big, black moustache, which he constantly stroked and adjusted. Although only thirty-three, he looked considerably older, his skin grey and lined as a result of chain-smoking Full Speed unfiltered. He had large, dark brown eyes under a mop of thick black hair. He wore a black shirt, black polyester trousers, and short black boots. When he arrived for the meeting, a large black fedora sat on his head. This outfit was his equivalent of a uniform.
Marta was roped in to translate for the meeting, as Wilson spoke only pidgin English. She had her head bowed most of the time, but she looked at him from underneath her false eyelashes with something approaching adoration. When he glanced at her for reassurance on some point, she went pink and squirmed in her chair. Sam could see that he was used to this sort of attention, as he sat back in his chair and flung his knees apart. He had a smug look on his face.
Wilson had brought some folders containing official documents giving permission for exploration work on several tracts of land in the province of Esmeralda in the west of Sierramar. One of them contained terraces of gravel along the banks of a river, which flowed into the Pacific.
‘The rivers, staked out by the exploration concessions that I am offering you, have terraces which contain gold along their riverbanks. We can buy these concessions for twenty thousand dollars each and have all the gold for ourselves.’
‘How much gold is there in the terraces?’ said Mike.
‘Oh, I would say about a million ounces, but there could be more.’
‘Has there been any geological exploration done on these terraces?’ said Sam. She was ignored.
‘The natives pan the gold from the alluvial deposits for money to buy beer and cigarettes. It must be high grade for them to be able to take out enough with their primitive methods. Usually they won’t bother for less than a gram a cubic meter or about six dollars.’
‘So, there’s no measured resource of gold then?’ said Sam.
‘Not as such, but it’s a rich deposit,’ said Wilson. ‘We could start exploiting it straight away if we had the machinery.’
‘Where would we get the machinery? How much would it cost to buy?’ said Mike.
‘Oh, that’s the easy part. I know a man who can hire us everything we need. We don’t have to buy anything.’
‘That sounds like an excellent plan. I’m sure I could persuade Edward to part with the money if we put a budget together,’ said Mike, now several steps ahead of Sam.
Wilson opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.
‘Whoa there. Hold up a minute,’ said Sam. ‘It’s certainly an interesting concept, but I recommend that we visit the river to do some sampling before we make any decisions about investing in the project. We need to establish the presence of gold in the terraces and get an idea of the amount per cubic metre as well as the total volume of gravel.’
‘Why is that?’ said Mike.
‘It may cost more to mine than we get out of it. While I’m sure that Wilson is right that there are some rich terraces there, we need a mining plan to determine if we can make a profit before we decide to invest,’ said Sam, straining to sound rational but not condescending.
Wilson flashed an annoyed look at her but changed his expression immediately when she stared right back.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Mike can come with me to the area next week and see for himself.’
Mike laughed.
‘I’m sorry, Wilson, but you’ll have to make do with Sam. I’ve a dicky heart, and the jungle is too far from a hospital for me if something goes wrong.’
Marta translated. Wilson looked at Mike in surprise. Sam raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He’s probably just too lazy to go.
‘I’m a geologist too Wilson. Didn’t Mike tell you?’ she asked, knowing full well that she had been introduced as Mike’s geologist to Wilson when he arrived at the meeting.
‘Women can’t deal with the conditions in the jungle. They’re too weak. I can’t be responsible for Sam’s safety,’ Wilson said to Mike, ignoring Sam. His condescending tone floated into the air and stayed there as Marta tried to translate the bald statement into a politer version. Sam was shocked by his arrogance. It was hard to believe anyone still talked this way about a woman when she was present. She swallowed the bile that had risen to her throat.
‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m as tough as a mule. I’ll look after myself.’
‘Sam will be fine, Wilson. You won’t have to babysit.’
Wilson was not happy, but Mike had not picked up on Sam’s fury or Wilson’s reluctance, as he was already imagining how much gold they would mine from the terraces.
‘When can you go, Wilson?’
‘I can organise a trip in a week’s time, if that suits you?’
‘Yes, perfect. That’s settled then. Sam, why don’t you go to town with Wilson and start buying some supplies for the trip? That way you can get to know each other better.’
It was the last thing either of them wanted to do, but if they were going to work together, they had to find a way to communicate.
‘Can I have some money?’ said Sam.
�
�Yes, Marta, give Sam some petty cash.
Marta wiggled over to her desk and returned with a wad of the local currency.
‘Please don’t forget the receipts,’ she said, batting her eyelashes at Wilson.
‘Thank you. Let’s go,’ said Sam.
Wilson was looking at Marta like a wolf admiring a plump sheep.
‘See you later,’ he said.
***
Mike was frustrated that he couldn’t invest immediately, but he admired Sam for standing up to them both. He was surprised to find that he had chosen a woman who had appeared easy to manipulate, but who had a hidden core of inner steel. He had hired her in the hope of preventing any more unfortunate investments, without having much to go on except her availability and cheapness, but he was now convinced that he had made the right decision. Wilson would have his hands full with Sam. He rang Edward to update him.
‘Hi, it’s me.’
‘Hello, how’s it going out there? Any news?’
‘I’ve been offered an area of river gravels with gold in them. They sound promising.’
‘So did the last lot. How do we know they’re any good?’
‘Obviously, Sam will go there to do some due diligence on the project before I make any decisions.’
‘Sounds like she has taken charge over there,’ he snorted. ‘I’m glad to hear that we’re being cautious this time. It sounds promising. Are you going?’
‘I don’t see the point. Sam knows what she’s doing and she’s going with the geologist who found the deposit.’
‘If you think that’s best.’
‘Definitely. I’ve already proved how little I know about geology.’
‘Ha! That’s true.’
‘I’ll give you a call when they get back and fill you in on our progress.’
‘Excellent. Can’t wait. Good luck.’
Mike hung up the phone with a smile. With Edward back on board, he was no longer worried about funding, and this time he was sure they were on to a winner.
***
Sam and Wilson left to buy supplies in the market at the centre of the old town. They went by taxi as neither could drive and Gloria had not graced the office with her presence.
‘Why don’t you drive, Wilson?’
‘I’m an engineer. I don’t need to drive a car in the field, I have a driver.’
‘I’m hoping to learn to drive here.’
‘Women are terrible drivers.’
‘Not all women. Anyway, some men are pretty bad, too.’ She pointed at the taxi driver’s back and smiled conspiratorially, but Wilson looked at her and didn’t acknowledge the joke. It was going to be hard work getting through, she thought.
‘What degree do you have?’ he said.
‘A Bachelor of Science in Geology.’
‘Ha! A Bachelor’s degree. How long did you study?’
‘Four years.’
‘Your degree is worthless here. You would only be qualified as a teacher. My degree was in Engineering Geology, and I studied at the university for seven years. It’s far superior to your degree.’
She didn’t bother to disabuse him of this theory. Instead she said, ‘Probably. I’ve also got a Master’s degree in Geology, though.’
It was his turn to look cross as it made her far superior to him by his own terms of reference.
They stopped at a street market that spilled out of a long, low, breeze-block shed with a zinc roof. There were rows of ramshackle stalls with uncategorizable mixtures of products on shaky tables. Sacks of flour jostled for space with footballs and sweets. Boxes of bottled water sat under a table with underwear and socks for sale on it. Wilson knew exactly where to go for individual items so Sam tagged along and paid up. She had no idea if they were paying above or below the odds but she got receipts for everything despite him tut-tutting at the waste of time as semi-illiterate shopkeepers struggled to fill them in.
They managed to buy most of the basic supplies they would need for their trip and packed them into another ancient taxi for transport back to the flat in the Avenida Miranda. Sam found the time spent with Wilson somewhat wearing and was a little worried about the prospect of being in his company twenty-four hours a day in the field. There was something about him that made her feel queasy. She would definitely bring lots of batteries for her Walkman.
When she got back to the flat, Marta was waiting to ambush her.
‘So how did it go with Wilson? He’s so handsome. Do you think he noticed me?’
‘Of course. It would be impossible not to,’ said Sam. ‘Wilson is an English surname. How come they use it over here as a first name?’
‘Oh, he was named after Woodrow Wilson. The surnames of American presidents are popular as first names here.’
‘Adopting the names of famous people’s common in Sierramar especially dictators’ names, like Mussolini, Stalin, Lenin and Hitler,’ said Gloria, who had arrived at the office while they were out buying supplies.
Sam thought that a dictator’s name would have suited Wilson much better but she didn’t say so. Marta was obviously suffering from a bit of a crush.
‘What’s his surname?’ asked Gloria.
‘Ortega, I think, why?’
‘Oh, no reason.’ Sam found this unconvincing. Gloria looked concerned but she was trying not to let it show. It was obvious that she knew exactly who Wilson Ortega was.
When Sam went to make a cup of tea in the kitchen, Gloria took her chance.
‘You like Wilson, don’t you?’ she said to Marta. ‘I’m not sure he’s the right man for you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s not very suitable for you,’ said Gloria struggling to avoid explaining herself.
Marta, who was very sensitive to her position in society, took immediate offense.
‘And who told you to stick your nose into my business?’
‘Ay Martita, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Is he too good for me because he’s a geologist like Sam? Just because you are rich doesn’t give you the right to control my life.’
‘I wasn’t trying to. I’ve heard that he’s not a good person. I’d hate to see you get hurt.’
‘I can look after myself, thank you.’
‘I’m sure you can. I’m sorry if you’re cross with me but he has a terrible reputation. I’ve heard that he’s violent.’
‘You can’t stop me from going out with him.’
Gloria saw that she had made a mistake and instead of putting Marta off, she had probably pushed her right into Wilson’s path.
‘I’m sorry, Martita, that’s not what I meant. Please forgive me.’
Marta harrumphed and went back to her desk with a stubborn look on her face. Sam came out of the kitchen with the tea and the opportunity was lost.
***
After Wilson left Sam at Avenida Miranda, he was in a great mood. In one pocket, he felt his fat wallet, loaded with an advance in dollars from Mike Morton. Wilson was amazed at how trusting Mike was. In other circumstances, Wilson would have pocketed the cash and walked away for good. However, Mike was a lottery win in human form. There was much more money involved, and Wilson intended to milk his golden ticket for all it was worth. He was clever and well educated but he had been fired from all his previous jobs when money went missing or he went AWOL. An inveterate womaniser and frequenter of bordellos, he was prone to drunken binges that lasted for days. This meant that he was deeply in debt. Meeting Mike in one of the town’s classier bordellos had been a stroke of luck. Wilson was being chased by some nasty people who took exception to his inability to pay what he owed. He was only one step ahead of them, and his time was running out. When Mike had mentioned that he could do with some help with his projects in the jungle, Wilson jumped at the chance. They were both happy with the outcome. Mike needed Wilson as much as Wilson needed the money. He couldn’t send Sam in alone yet, as her Spanish was too basic. It was going to be a pain having that woman along on the trip.
She was sure to complain about everything and he wouldn’t be able to go drinking and whoring like he usually did in the field. He was pretty sure that one visit to the jungle would be enough for the spoilt bitch. It wasn’t all bad though, she was quite attractive under those boring clothes. Maybe he could persuade her to let him taste her wares. He’d never had a gringa before.
In his other pocket, Wilson rubbed a slip of paper between his fingers on which Marta’s phone number was written. Now, there was a project. All coy and girly in her fuck-me heels and her lacquered quiff; Wilson wasn’t fooled. Marta was sure to be an easy lay. In his experience, women were all the same. He used them and disposed of them in a totally disinterested way, running a mile from any display of emotion or clingy behaviour. He had never wanted to get married, but his wife’s three brothers had not given him a choice. He had been forced to do the correct thing when they had discovered she was pregnant and had threatened to kill him. His wife now regretted every minute of their marriage, but she was Roman Catholic, and divorce was not acceptable. So, they stayed married, although neither could stand the other. Wilson was happy to be separated, so he could carry on whoring and drinking, which was the only thing he enjoyed, instead of being nagged by his wife. He lit a cigarette and headed down the street to the bus stop. The money was burning a hole in his pocket, and he knew where to spend it.
***
‘Where can I buy some chocolate for the trip?’ said Sam.
‘There is a convenience store at the top of Avenida Miranda where the new buildings stop and the old ones start. It has all sorts of candy,’ said Marta. ‘Can you buy me some M&Ms while you are there please?’
Sam walked up the Avenida Miranda passing the tall new buildings and found the shop in a small house with a roof made of brick red tiles. She selected several large bars of Lindt chocolate which she took up to the counter with the M&Ms. To her surprise, Alfredo, the self-proclaimed treasure hunter, was standing there, swaying slightly, and chatting to the shopkeeper. She placed her purchases on the counter top.