And there it is—the laptop.
You can hear them coming (there are at least two, from the sound of it) as they whisper to one another in Portuguese. Well, they’re certainly not the American agents. Brazilian police? Do the police here just jimmy the door and let themselves in? Hard to say.
There’s one coming your way.
• Hide behind the door. If the guy’s a threat, he’s getting a laptop in the face.
• Try to reason with him. Pretend you’re Viktor’s lab assistant or something.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Rude & Crude
She chuckles. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong impression. We were excited to hear from the professor, and whatever personal problems he’s been going through are unfortunate.”
“So you follow his work?”
“Of course, who doesn’t? He’s making major ripples in the clean energy world.”
“But isn’t that counterproductive? You’re an oil company; this is like a snake eating its own tail.”
“Hardly,” she says. “You’re viewing things in black and white. If certain sectors of industry are moving toward clean energy, we’d be foolish to turn our backs on them. It’s not like gas is the only alternative; there are people who will keep using oil so long as it benefits their bottom line. Those who wouldn’t use it anyway are the ones we’re trying to entice. There’s no reason we can’t sell oil to company A and ethanol to company B. I’m sorry, but if you’re looking for some kind of conspiracy, you won’t find it.”
“Why would anyone want to silence his work?”
“I honestly don’t know. Rumors say it was a personal problem, he’s a superstar professionally. His technology is ten years ahead of everyone else, but it’s the way we’re moving. If he can’t figure it out, someone else will.”
• “What exactly was Viktor working on?”
• “Tell me more about BP’s ethanol developments.”
• “I’ve heard enough. Thank you for your time.”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Run Away, Run, Run Away
Before you can even see who’s opening the door, you fly over toward the back patio, skipping across the carpet like a basilisk sprinting on water. You tug at the glass door frantically, but of course it’s locked shut. While letting out a barely audible moan of terror, you fumble with the latch.
The front door opens behind you just as you slip out and close the sliding glass door. Your legs haul you up the rear hill and into the woodline behind the apartments. From your vantage point in the foliage, you watch the patio, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruders through the glass.
It appears as if you made it out unseen, because no one comes looking for you.
You watch in silence as a bookcase is overturned and an avalanche of books spills toward the patio door. A torn-open pillow from the reading chair flies into view, the stuffing floating over the books like new snow. From your hillside perch, you see two sets of boots move throughout the apartment, though you cannot see who they belong to.
Well, that was close. Better not press your luck: time to get out of Dodge. Here’s hoping Viktor was more successful on his mission.
• Head to the restaurant.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
The Running Option
Not waiting for consent, you sprint into the cane, nearly tripping as the mud sucks at your feet in cobbled holes and pools. Bertram and Maria run after you, one on either side and back slightly, so that the three of you move like a flock of birds in a “flying-V” formation.
A flash of red catches your eye and you look ahead to see a grileiro in a red scarf coming your way. You blast a warning into the cane with the shotgun, pumping another round into the breach as the man ducks for cover. Your partners shoot into the field as well, keeping the men in the cane at bay.
Suddenly the thick sugarcane ends and you make it into a clearing. The clearing.
You half-expected something out of the pre-Civil War Southern states, like a giant manor from Gone With the Wind, but you’re greeted with a much more utilitarian structure. This isn’t a place where people live, it’s a place where people work.
Still, it’s a massive set of buildings. A cafeteria, several barracks for workers, washing and refining stations, and of course, the main house of the plantation.
“Hang on,” Bertram says to you. “Do you think Maria should come? This man has done terrible things to her family.”
“I can hear you, and I’m coming,” she says firmly.
“Hmmm. I don’t know….” you say, considering.
“No, I’m coming. This man is the devil.”
• “Okay… Just so long as you’re ready to meet him.”
• “Which is why I don’t want to put you through hell. I’m sorry, but I agree. We’ll take care of it; you stay here.”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Rush Back
“I’m sorry,” you say, “but none of us will be safe until we share your evidence.”
“You’re right,” Viktor replies. “Let’s go.”
Dr. Brandon steps forward. “If I may, I’d like to help. I know the pilot of a seaplane that can pick you up on the river and take you into Rio. He’s my ride when I’m done here.”
“I don’t know that I can ever thank you enough, Susan,” Jane says.
“If your fiance really has cracked the ethanol code, how can I not help? He’s our best chance at preserving this ecosystem and these people I’ve dedicated my life to.”
“Thank you,” Viktor says.
The older woman removes a satellite phone from her gear. “Just say the word.”
“Let’s do it,” you say.
* * *
Having said goodbye to Dr. Susan Brandon and the villagers, the three of you fly high above the jungle in the seaplane. Jane Nightingale presents a laptop to Viktor—presumably the location of their evidence—but worry covers her face as the computer boots up.
“What is it, my love?” he asks.
“It wasn’t Governor Ferro,” she says.
“What?” you both say in unison.
She shakes her head. “He’s part of it, but he’s not the one calling the shots. There are two kings. The King of Sugar…and the King of Corn. Ambassador Mays is one of the top three interest holders in corn ethanol in the United States.”
“The US Ambassador to Brazil?” you say, dumbfounded.
She nods. “Corn already has lobbyists against it what with high-fructose corn syrup, and if they lost their foothold in ethanol as well…”
“Cabrão,” Viktor says. “The Ambassador couldn’t get his own hands dirty, so he farmed out the job to the crime lords. He’ll pay for this, if I have to kill him myself.”
“No need, my love. I have a document—direct correspondence between Mays and Ferro— proof that they conspired to keep the most important scientific discovery of the last half-century away from the public.”
Viktor smiles. “Then let’s work on my presentation for the Energy Summit, shall we?”
He turns to the laptop. While they go over the evidence, you:
• Take a nap. You’ll need your strength.
• Talk to the pilot. Who is this Dr. Susan Brandon, and how is she involved?
• Listen closely as Jane and Viktor compile their presentation.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Safe/Deposit
The next morning you’re stiff, achy, and still tired. Without money to pay for a hostel, you’re forced to spend the night in one of the abandoned hovels of the favela. A mattress stained gray with age sits in the corner, surrounded by used needles and condom wrappers. Despite the sleepless night, you know that drug traffickers, Elite Squad officers, and an assassin are all looking for you.
“Up and at ’em, Tourist,” Viktor says. “We have many kilometers to travel today and time is not on our side. The Energy Summit kicks off tomorrow night and if Jane has the evidence to clear my name….”
You yawn and
stretch, and then look at him expectantly before he elaborates:
“In order to find Jane, we must leave the city and travel by river out into the jungle. But first, we must sell off the guns and gear to buy passage on a river barge.”
“We’re getting rid of all of it?” you ask.
“All but my little inventions. It’s illegal to carry weapons on the river, so we’d have to leave them anyhow.”
Following the drone of merchants haggling with their new customers, you easily find an open air market. It’s just like the one where you bought the guns yesterday—perhaps all favelas have one of these?
Asking “Armas?” over and over, Viktor finds a man willing to buy your weapons. And just like that, you sell your guns back on the black market. Easy as pie.
Risking the few reais for bus fare, Viktor brings you to the port, where you’ll find passage into the Atlantic rainforest. There are dozens of ships offshore, waiting for the opportunity to edge their way to the front of the line. The port is large and extremely unorganized. Many of the vessels are private fishing ships available for charter—the kind you might rent out to go deep-sea fishing off the coast of California—though, of course, you can’t afford that.
The boat for you is the mega-barge. Being the largest commercial venture in port, the barge has a permanent space cleared where it can dock. Viktor pays your passage and the two of you board. The boat is all-metal, with paint chipping everywhere it’s been applied. Gigantic tires are tied along the sides of the vessel to act as rubber bumpers in case it bumps against anything.
The bottom portion of the barge is full of cargo: metal shipping containers, an SUV being shipped, crates of produce. The upper deck is for passengers. Though there are a few Brazilian tourists using the barge as a cheap “booze cruise,” the majority of the passengers are traders and merchants traveling with their goods, helping to stock the mini-marts of the interior.
There’s a flat roof on top, protecting most of the seats of the upper deck from the brutal summer sun, save for those by the rail. Soon the boat’s engines fire up and, snapping one last photo of the shoreline, you say goodbye to the city.
The river is wide and expansive. Although the Amazon gives Brazil worldwide fame, the Fingido is not to be underestimated. Too far south to be part of the biggest waterway on earth, this river is massive in her own right. Brazil becomes connected like so many aqueducts during the rainy season, but major trade routes such as the Rio Fingido are formed from perennial water sources and remain traversed year-round.
“So where are we headed?” you ask Viktor.
“It’s easier if I show you,” he says with a smile. “Go have a look around. I’m going to use the shared computer terminal to see if I can find anything new. I rented us a sleeping cabin. It will be a long journey, and after last night we need the rest.”
• “I’ll just hang out with you, see what we learn.”
• “Yeah, I’m going to go check out the cabin, maybe take a nap.”
• “I think I’ll just watch the river go by; clear my head a bit.”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Safe… For Now
He nods. “We’ll have to work together, and two light sleepers are better than one.”
The blue-eyed man pays in cash, then you’re shown up to your room, which is not more than a bed and a bathroom. The entire hostel is tiled, to include the bedroom floors. Most likely to ease the cleanup after drunken patrons, or perhaps to clean up any other…messes. The image of the woman lying in a pool of her own blood flashes in your head.
“Get some sleep; we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
“What’s your name?” you ask.
He looks at you and something flickers behind those fierce eyes as he wonders if he can trust you with his real name. You can’t be sure what he decides upon, but the name he tells you is, “Viktor.”
* * *
The next morning Viktor wakes you early. The street light outside your window is no longer illuminated but the sun hasn’t risen yet.
“What time is it?” you ask.
“Time to go; get dressed. There’s some fruit and toast downstairs, then we must be on our way.”
• Break your fast, then be on your way.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Say Hello
They want to play games? Okay. They want to play rough? Okay. You grab your “little friend” from the backpack, safety off, trigger finger ready to go. They never even see it coming. You fire as soon as your aim is clear of Viktor, mowing down the young men with ease. As you kill one, then the second, Falador stumbles backwards out of the curtained doorway. You follow him with your stream of bullets but as the curtains flutter in your lead breeze, you’re not sure if you’ve connected or not.
The sound of frantic sprinting outside tells you he’s alive. Viktor stares at the carnage with disbelief, eyeing the bodies of the two dead youths.
“It had to be done,” you say.
More gunfire erupts from outside—a lot more. Viktor cautiously peers out from behind the curtain and ducks back inside, his face deathly pale.
“It’s Elite Squad,” he says. “Pacification. They’re taking back this slum, tonight.”
“Elite Squad?” you parrot.
Viktor claims one of the dead men’s rifles. “Police special forces. Easily one of the most extreme combat forces on the planet. We need to get out of here, now.”
• Escape the slums!
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
The Scenic Route
The cog train runs every thirty minutes, and luckily for you (and Agent Danly’s thinning patience) the wait is only five minutes for the next carriage. Red, about the size of a city bus, and packed with tourists, the train car runs on rails powered by electric wires from above. This mars your views, so you have to use your camera’s zoom if you want any good pictures.
The train begins moving, and soon you pass from rows of houses into the forest. Agent Danly stews in a seat next to a Korean woman while her child and husband sit in the row in front of her. The three of them chatter away, with the angry American hopelessly caught in their midst.
It’s obvious this sort of mawkish tourism is killing Agent Danly, but Bertram enjoys pissing off his partner and acts as your tour guide in the seat next to you.
“Those trees were imported from Asia,” Bertram says, pointing out a variety that contains large green pods about the size of pineapples—if the fruits were missing their shock of green and were hanging from old US Army surplus bags in the tree. “Jackfruit.”
Just about everybody has a camera, videocamera, or cell phone capable of filling the role. You pass another train car coming downhill and notice a flash from within as someone takes a picture. As the train car ascends, the cameras in your car uniformly point to the righthand side, where there are breathtaking views of the city.
“The statue sits atop the highest point in Rio de Janeiro, so you won’t get better views than this.” Agent Bertram looks back at Danly, just to ensure the man is listening, then goes on in a mock tour-guide tone. “The statue was erected between 1920 and 1930 and weighs over 1,000 tons.”
Soon, the train docks at the top where others await, ready to take your seat for the return trip.
• Disembark and check out the statue.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
The Schmoozer
The gate guard smiles and leans back in his chair. This is your chance!
“You know how it is…you meet a sexy stranger, dance the night away, everything is magical—but you forget to get a phone number. Come on, can’t you see yourself in my shoes?”
“I’ve been there,” he says.
“I mean, I don’t want to put you out,” you say, removing your wallet and slipping a $100 bill under the glass. “But it was love at first sight.”
“And the note?”
You pass him both the note and the license plate number. He reads it, flips the note over to check for more, then looks up at you. “Arm
s wide open?”
“Sure, who doesn’t like a little mystery in their romance?” you reply, passing another $50 through the slot. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention me to anyone. It’s best if they solve my riddle for themselves.”
“Of course.”
You smile, give your thanks and turn to walk away. Whoa, what a rush! Time to go strut your stuff like you own this city and brag to Viktor over pizza.
Yep, you’re awesome.
• Head to the restaurant.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Security
Viktor and Jane wait for you inside, near the metal detectors. You rush in and say, “He’s—”
But Viktor silences you with a finger pressed to your lips. Man, Brazilians have no concept of personal space. His eyes slowly move over to the security line and you follow his gaze.
There’s a table with nametags, beyond which official personnel check purses and briefcases like the TSA lines at the airport. No one gets through without the proper credentials.
In a sudden burst of inspiration, you claim three nametags, clip one to your chest, and pass the others to Viktor and Jane. They both grin and don the badges in understanding. Once you clear security, you can be sure that the only threat will come from law enforcement. No assassins, no favela druglords, no Sugarcane mafia. Just Rio cops and DSS agents.
You move toward the metal detectors, but Jane stops Viktor at the last second. She reaches up, takes his eyeglasses, then turns them around and puts them on the bridge of her own nose, giving her a bookish, librarian appearance. Viktor smiles, blinking to let his eyes adjust.
“Let’s do it,” you say, stepping forward into the security line.
MURDERED: Can YOU Solve the Mystery? (Click Your Poison Book 2) Page 31