MURDERED: Can YOU Solve the Mystery? (Click Your Poison Book 2)

by James Schannep

  You leave your metal objects in the bin, and progress through security without incident. That’s when you hear the beep behind you.

  “Is this your bag, sir?” one of the security agents asks.

  The man holds Viktor’s backpack. From your vantage point on the other side of the metal detectors, you can see the x-ray image of his bag and the tiny “Manhattans” held within. Viktor acknowledges that the backpack is indeed his.

  “Please step to the side. I’m going to search your bag now, okay? Can you tell me if there are any sharp or hazardous materials inside that I need to be aware of?”

  Viktor shakes his head. You look up at the security monitors as Jane passes through. There’s a photograph of André, Viktor’s actor friend, taped up there with the word “BOLO” printed beneath it. Next to that photo is the sketch of Viktor you helped create at the Rio police station the night this all began.

  Hopefully they won’t recognize him without the glasses…

  “What’s this?” the security agent asks, reaching a gloved hand around one of the small Death-Star-esque objects.

  “Careful… please,” Viktor gulps. “It’s for my presentation. It’s… a new form of battery I’ve patented. In a few years, these will be installed in every electric vehicle in the country.”

  The security agent looks incredulous. Viktor smiles and adds, “With any luck.”

  The security agent waves a gloved hand over to a coworker, then removes a cotton swab and rubs it along the small device. The agent looks up and stares Viktor down. These few seconds feel like an eternity.

  Another security agent arrives with a German shepherd, which sniffs the backpack. This agent keeps a wary hand near his Taser gun.

  “Okay, Dr. Vanderschmidt. Thank you for your patience.”

  Viktor’s brow furrows, and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but then he looks down at his nametag. “Right!” he says, “Thank you.”

  Grinning like a car salesman, Viktor dons the backpack and eagerly leaves the security line.

  “That was close,” Jane says.

  “Too close,” you agree.

  “We don’t have much time,” Viktor says. “The opening ceremony should be starting soon; this is our best window of opportunity. Find the audio/video control room where they run the projector.” He takes the USB drive from his pocket and passes it to you. He shakes your hand and adds, “Think you can handle it?”

  The USB drive weighs heavy in your palm.

  Jane leans in, gives you a kiss on the cheek. “For luck,” she says.

  With that, they’re gone. You pocket the device, then look about—just in the nick of time. At the far end of the hall, Agent Danly, the DSS agent who met you at the police station, comes around the corner.

  He hasn’t seen you yet. You turn your back on him and walk away, trying not to appear in a rush. At the end of this hall is a four-way intersection, but the directional sign is written in Portuguese. Damn, you could really use a translator right about now, but there’s no time.

  Agent Danly is coming. Where to?

  • Left—Apoio.

  • Straight ahead— Salas de Conferências.

  • Right—Banheiros.

  • Back past Danly—Entrada/Auditório Principal/Imprensa.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Seek

  Viktor nods in agreement and rushes out of the sleeping cabin to find the captain. You’re quick on his heels, but it’s not long before you hear a commotion on the top deck. Men shout out over the cries of women and children.

  Then you’re on the bridge, where you find the captain at the helm. Viktor pleads with him in urgent Portuguese and, just as your companion predicted, the captain goes for a hidden compartment. He produces an old Luger pistol. The thing looks ancient; you’d believe him if he said he bought the gun off a WWII expat who had fled to Brazil for fear of extradition.

  “That’s all he has,” Viktor explains by way of translation.

  The captain, evidently not a brave man, hands you the pistol. You look at the heavy weapon with the tapered barrel, then back to Viktor.

  “I’ll be bait,” the scientist says. “But don’t be afraid to shoot. These pirates will not hesitate, and no one will miss them way out here. Let’s go.”

  Viktor leaves the bridge and immediately raises his hands. He perfectly blocks the doorway so you can’t see what’s beyond him, but they can’t see you, either.

  “Get ready, Tourist.”

  You raise the pistol, curl your finger around the trigger, and point it at his back. Viktor sidesteps to the right to reveal a pirate just beyond the door. The pirate’s AK-47 follows Viktor as he steps away, but your Luger does not.

  With a deafening explosion, the pistol kicks back in your hand, though not after filling the pirate with 7.65mm parabellum and dropping him in one shot.

  As you linger with smoke curling off the handgun’s barrel, Viktor scoops up the pirate’s rifle and sends a burst of fire into the men who rush in as backup.

  You now find yourself moving, ready to face more pirates. Viktor, out on the port side, makes a left turn and shoots another burst from the AK-47. You step out and look right. Before you even register the pirate raising his rifle, your hands have shot him twice.

  The boat is silent now; there appear to be no more pirates. That’s it; you’ve won. The other passengers and crew sheepishly appear, the ship’s captain the first to congratulate you. He asks for his pistol back.

  Viktor translates, “He says he’s surprised it worked. It was his father’s, and it’s never been shot.”

  Glad I didn’t know that beforehand, you think.

  The crew starts dumping the pirates’ bodies overboard, letting the river take care of burial. Everyone goes back to their corners; even the captain disappears. You win, but you’re not a hero. The only thanks you’ll get is the passengers keeping their mouths shut if questioned about this night.

  “Come on,” Viktor says, tossing the assault rifle over the rail. “Let’s try and get some rest before tomorrow.”

  • Head to the cabin and lock the door

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Separate but Equal

  He frowns. “I don’t think we’ve been followed… unless it’s me you’re afraid of. I understand your hesitation, though you need not fear me. Perhaps with time we’ll learn to trust one another.”

  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 with an early knock on your door. 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

  Shadow Empire

  Viktor takes you to the primary favela controlled by the notorious Shadow Chiefs. As he explains along the way, this is the most powerful gang in all of Rio and their slum is the largest. The only reason it hasn’t been pacified, he says, is because it’s the most dangerous. There is no head of the snake to chop off; this beast is more akin to a hydra—kill one druglord and two more will spring up.

  Instead, the government has decided to sharpen its sword against the lesser gangs, building up for the big takedown. At some point, the nin
e hundred favelas will be run by nine thousand little tyrants, and the hydra will collapse under the sheer weight of all the heads.

  This favela is anything but quiet. Clubs and discothèques cry out into the night air. Radios blare from individual homes and passionate arguments echo their squabbles. Despite all these sounds of humanity and civilization, you feel like you’re headed into another planet. A planet far more deadly once the sun goes down.

  A chicken shrieks its shrill squawk and bursts forth from an alley in a flutter of feathers, the terrified bird desperately trying to evolve into a hawk and fly away. The animal’s pursuers come out of the alley—a gang of children and young teens. The leader, an Afro-Brazilian with a mouthful of tangled, overgrown teeth, grins and shouts something in Portuguese.

  “He tells us to grab the chicken,” Viktor translates. “Please do.”

  You look up from the bird to the child gang and notice for the first time that snaggle-tooth is armed with a Dirty Harry-sized revolver. Several of the other boys are openly armed as well. You crouch down, arms spread so the chicken won’t run past you, but the animal is so blinded by terror it runs straight into your arms.

  “Now what?” you say, holding the squirming bird, trying to avoid its talons and beak.

  Viktor thinks for a moment as the boys approach. Reaching with one arm to the pistol tucked in his waistband under his backpack, he says something to them in Portuguese.

  You recognize a key word: Falador. The name of the informant you seek. A knowing glimmer spreads through the gang members like electricity. They know exactly who you’re talking about and now their playful devil-may-care tone has changed to fear.

  A juvenile rattlesnake is more dangerous than an adult because, in its inexperience, the young snake will inject you with its full load of venom, whereas the adult knows to gauge a threat and keep something in reserve. More important yet, the adult knows how to pick its battles and when to slink away. So too is a frightened child with a gun and something to prove far more dangerous than a hardened, experienced criminal.

  The leader raises his pistol and the others follow suit.

  • Shoot the leader. The others will cower before you.

  • Draw your pistol, hold the chicken hostage.

  • Do nothing. Let Viktor handle the situation.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Shares of Information

  “Oh my, I had no idea! Would you like to see our newly updated prospectus?” he says, reaching for a manila folder.

  “No, that’s not where our concerns lie. What we’d like to know is, what are you doing to curb the appeal of so-called ‘new energies’?”

  “‘Curb the appeal’? We’ve invested heavily in new energy; it’s one of the fastest-growing economic sectors in the country.”

  “Sure, sure. That’s all fine and good. But we want to make sure oil remains number one, don’t we? And part of that is keeping researchers like Dr. Viktor Lucio de Ocampo and their findings out of the spotlight, am I right?”

  He looks at you with a new degree of suspicion. “Who did you say you represent again?”

  “Your top US investors. What is the status of Petrobras blocking the doctor from the Energy Summit? Did that go okay? Any hitches?”

  His mouth opens slightly and he shakes his head in squinting disbelief. “I don’t know; we had nothing to do with it. What firm are you with?”

  “Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe. Thanks for the information—I’ll see myself out.”

  • Go wait for Agent Bertram.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Sheltered

  You trudge through the rainy night toward the small building halfway between your location and the plantation. Perhaps the grileiros have given up; you don’t see another soul on the journey. When you make it to the aluminum building, you’re fairly certain it’s a farm shed and not anywhere people live, but you proceed with caution nonetheless. With a storm like this, who knows who or what might be sheltered within.

  Bertram points his rifle at the large barn-style entrance and nods at you to slide the door open. When you do so, you’re greeted by tractors, combines, and other farm machinery.

  “Just as I thought,” Bertram says, lowering the rifle.

  The three of you seek shelter inside the empty building, stalking along the vehicles in search of a warm spot to bed down.

  “I guess this is goodnight?” Maria says.

  You suddenly realize you can see right through her white garments. The pilot uniform is thin and wet, clinging to her tight body.

  • “Maybe we should take off our clothes and spoon for warmth?”

  • “Goodnight.”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Shootout

  You open fire, taking down the first uniformed man. A barrage of noisy gunfire rings out as Viktor and the remaining two cops join the firefight. The second uniformed officer goes down just as the plainclothes policeman finds cover.

  “We’ve got him pinned down!” you shout excitedly.

  “He’s no good to us dead,” Viktor reminds you.

  After exchanging a few more shots, an idea strikes you. “Get out that sub-machinegun! We’ll scare him into submission.”

  Viktor nods and slips off his backpack. Just as he removes the powerful weapon, he falls to the ground, but not from the cop in the road. Gunshots ring out from a rooftop across the way and you look over to see Agent Danly and Detective Irma Dos Santos.

  There’s a flicker of recognition, but that doesn’t stop them from firing. Both you and Viktor die in a hail of bullets.

  THE END

  Sky Cab and the World of Tomorrow

  With a giant grin parting his beard, Agent Bertram mashes the phone number into his cellular and makes the call. After a quick conversation in Portuguese, he takes the next exit off the highway.

  “Where do we have to meet them?” you ask. “Will it take long?”

  “They’re coming to us,” he says with awe in his voice.

  He turns off the access road, pulling the SUV into a mega-mall parking lot, and proceeds to one of the far corners to wait. It’s not long before that thundering sound of a helicopter beating the air into submission returns. This time, it’s your helicopter.

  Your body surges with excitement at the prospect of a helicopter ride. Your mind races: how is this possible? What manner of city is this?

  As if reading your thoughts, or more likely sharing them, Bertram says, “São Paulo has the largest number of registered helicopters of any city in the world!” He has to shout to be heard above the sound of the mechanical bird. “New York City has maybe a dozen buildings you can land on in a ’chopper. This place has over three hundred!”

  The rotor blade whips air at you, all the debris of the parking lot coming with it. You have to shield your eyes from the pebbles as the helicopter lands. If you were expecting something out of Black Hawk Down, this aircraft is comparably tiny; akin to a traffic helicopter you’ve seen on the news back home. It’s almost all windshield and propeller, with just barely enough room for the pilot and three passengers. Slowly the blades slow their pace, and eventually the pilot comes out to greet you.

  It’s a woman. She wears an official uniform, just like the one on the billboard, but she’s comparably tiny herself. Surprisingly petite, she must be just over five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds. Yet she grins with confidence and her radiance is more than the man on the poster could muster at thirty feet tall.

  “Olá, bom dia, I’m Maria Rodrigues Igor,” she says, using the Portuguese greeting. “You are the Americans?”

  * * *

  Like a great forest razed by fire, with ashen wood reaching high to the heavens, the skyscrapers of São Paulo reach out to touch you as you fly above the buildings. And yet there is nothing dead or dying about this vibrant city, the sheer scale of which takes your breath away. It’s as if all the skyscrapers were taken out of Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, Dallas, and Austin, then deposited in this one urban downtown.
There truly are tenfold more colossal towers of industry than in any other city you’ve seen.

  You’re in the front seat with the pilot, looking out on this alpha city. You can feel the heat coming off her as she maneuvers the aircraft. Amongst the mega-structures stands a tall and glittering beacon. It’s the building you fly toward now and its mirrored windows reflect the helicopter back at you.

  “Here it is, the headquarters of Futuro Verdejante,” she says to you through the intercom. “We’ll be touching down in five minutes.”

  The building grows larger and larger until you’re on top of it. Maria sets you down with a deft touch and after winding down the controls, hands you a business card.

  “Call if you ever need a ride,” she says with a wink.

  Before you can reply, Agent Bertram squeezes your shoulder from his seat behind you. “Let’s go!”

  Standing at the base of the helipad, a young office worker waits to take you to Italo Fellini, your contact for the Energy Summit. With a final look back at the helicopter and the pilot, you head inside and are shown to the man’s office. Even though he has a capital view of the skyline, it’s nothing compared to the views you just got flying above the city. Still, the room is impressive.

  • Sit down for your meeting.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  A Sleepless Night

  What a night. It’s late when Irma pulls up to your hotel. Or, rather, it’s early. The sky holds the pre-dawn glow of impending sunlight. She idles the car out front, but you don’t leave. Some part of you doesn’t want to go inside.

  You’re not afraid, that’s not it. It’s a near-certainty that you haven’t been missed—what with Danly assuming you’ve been asleep all night. It’s more that you can’t process all you’ve seen and heard. All you’ve done tonight. Looking over at Irma, you can see she’s having similar thoughts.