Molka flashed Raziela a perplexed face. “Wait. Cardoza is actually going to come to our embassy, with no fear?”
“No fear at all,” Raziela said. “He’s intelligent and shrewd but extremely arrogant. And he’s so totally immersed in his new identity and good life, he probably tells himself his past never happened. That’s why I said he’s fallen into my trap.”
“At the reception, you will be introduced to Cardoza, as a representative of the Cultural Department, and then propose to him contracting one of the favela artists he patronizes to paint a mural on the embassy’s outer walls. All in the interests of good international relations.”
Molka said, “And you don’t think such a random offer from a stranger would arouse suspicion?”
“Your offer won’t be random. He has recommended that his artists paint murals on several government buildings but has been dismissively turned down. You will mention this to him and how you feel this is a missed opportunity by his government. Therefore, your offer will not only make him happy, but he can also use it to validate his earlier requests to those who dismissed him.”
Molka smiled, sly. “That’s a nice touch. I can see you’ve done your research and also put your psychology degree to good use.”
Raziela continued. “After Cardoza swallows this bait, you will then set the hook by requesting he take you to view the murals done by the best artists in the Esperança favela at a place Cardoza created called the Wall of Hopefuls. This is so you can choose an artist who best fits your vision. And again, he will be happy to accommodate your request as he has offered a favela art tour to several government officials who dismissively turned him down for that as well.”
“During that tour—in the ultra-dangerous favela environment due to the drug trafficking gangs—the contractor—acting as a member from a rival gang to the dominant CV gang in the Esperança favela—will surprise and remove Cardoza. You will then hysterically panic and jump on Cardoza’s lone bodyguard and beg him to save you, which is actually a non-lethal way of preventing him from firing at or following the contractor so the contractor can get clear. That’s the basic outline of your task.”
“Alright,” Molka said. “I think I can handle that. But…um…well, never mind.”
“What?” Raziela took another coffee sip.
“I was hoping for something a little more….”
Raziela grinned. “A little more like a worthy ass to kick?”
“Yes.”
“When you read in your detailed briefing about what wonderful people the Harlevs were and when you watch several home videos that are attached which were taken of the children’s birthdays and reflect on all the lost potential of the children because of Cardoza’s actions, you’ll think his ass is very worthy of kicking.”
Molka presented a humbled face. “You’re probably right. I’m just anxious to get back into action. Now, I have a few questions before we get into the task’s specifics.”
Raziela closed her laptop and placed it back in her bag. “I’ll answer your questions and talk about specifics when we get to Brazil. Our flight leaves at 5:30 PM tomorrow evening, and we’ll land in Brasilia Wednesday morning at 9:20 local time with layovers in London and Sao Paulo in between. That’s about 22 hours of travel time, so get some rest. Arrive at the airport 3 hours early. I’ll email you your boarding pass later today. And I’ll bring you an encrypted phone and your briefing tablet so you can study it on the plane. Pack light, just one carry-on bag. We’ll get outfitted with anything else we need when we get there.”
Molka flashed a puzzled face. “So…you’re coming with me on this task?”
“I’m coming with you on all your tasks. I’m not going to let you do to me what you did to Azzur.”
“That I did to Azzur?”
Raziela stood and shouldered her bag. “You’ll have to get your own ride back to the office. I’m going in the opposite direction; I have a lot to do today to get us ready.”
“What happened to Azzur?” Molka said.
Raziela grabbed her coffee and snack bag. “See you at the airport tomorrow.”
Molka watched Raziela head back toward the park entrance.
What happened to Azzur?
PROJECT MOLKA: TASK 6
WEDNESDAY
APRIL 14TH
CHAPTER FIVE
Esperança Sports Complex
Dedication Ceremony
Esperança Favela
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
1:38 PM
An elevated stage was erected at one end of the beautiful new football field adjacent to the beautiful new swimming pool fronting the beautiful new recreation building.
A large, colorfully dressed band stood in front of the stage with their instruments at the ready.
The remainder of the football field and the areas all around the pool and the recreation building were filled with modestly dressed favela residents numbering in the tens of thousands.
At center stage—behind a microphoned podium—stood a short, middle-aged man with thinning hair and a paunch under an expensive gray suit. He read out names from notes on the podium, and local politicians seated in a row of chairs behind him each rose, in turn, to be recognized.
The crowd lent the vote seekers mild applause.
When all had their turn, the man at the podium read from his notes again. “And now I would like to introduce the man who made this dream, this beautiful new sports complex, a reality. My very good friend and a very great friend to Esperança, Mr. Gabriel Cardoza!”
The crowd erupted into enthusiastic cheering.
The tall, lean, Gabriel Cardoza jogged up the stage steps—styling a tailored, slim-fit black suit over a white silk shirt and a blood-red silk tie—and strode toward the podium.
When he reached it, he shook hands with the man who introduced him and stood to the side.
The man read from his notes yet again. “Gabriel, for what you have made possible on this day and for all you have made possible for Esperança, on behalf of the mayor’s office, it is my honor and my pleasure to present to you the Mayor's Civic Booster Award.”
The crowd provided passionate applause.
An attractive young woman in a green dress crossed the stage, holding a gold-framed plaque and handed it to Cardoza.
With the crowd still praising, Cardoza and the man shook hands again, and the woman in the green dress took several photos with a phone of them posing together with the plaque followed by the man and the young woman exiting stage right.
Cardoza walked with the plaque a few steps in the same direction and met a hulking, dark-haired, dark-bearded man wearing a black suit over a white shirt and black tie.
Cardoza handed the plaque to the hulking man who exited the stage with it.
Cardoza returned to the podium, took his place at the microphone, and smiled and waved to the still cheering crowd.
After a few moments, a downward hand gesture quieted the gathering, and Cardoza spoke. “Thank you all so much. And thank you, Mr. Vice Mayor, for the kind introduction and for the humbling award. I will keep my remarks very brief because today is not about me. It is about the beautiful people of Esperança.”
The crowd renewed their enthusiastic cheering.
Cardoza waited for the crowd to settle again with a smile and continued. “My mother—the most gentle and sweetest of women who left this world far too soon—who grew up in this very favela, truly lived by the words of Saint Francis of Assisi which she imparted on me at an early age: ‘For it is in giving that we receive.’ And I thank you for giving me the gift of allowing me to serve you.”
The crowd gave back ecstatic cheering.
Cardoza waited again, smiling for quiet and then resumed. “In conclusion, they say the government and society have forgotten about this favela. And perhaps that is true. But I have not forgotten. And I pledge to you today that I never will! Thank you, and may good fortune and blessings be upon you!”
The crowd exploded into wi
ld cheering.
The band struck up Samba music as Cardoza smiled and waved his way back across the stage and down the steps where the hulking man and the vice mayor awaited him.
The vice mayor spoke. “A beautiful sentiment, Mr. Cardoza.”
Cardoza smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Vice Mayor.”
“And now that you have given something to the poor, you have something for me too? I ask because your man failed to drop a package at my house this week.”
“I wanted to discuss that with you today,” Cardoza said. “Which is why I asked you to be the master of ceremonies of this event.”
“Shall we go to your office, as usual?”
Cardoza motioned to his left. “I thought we could just step across the street. The store owner there is an associate of mine and will allow us to talk in the privacy of the store’s back room.”
The vice mayor frowned and checked his watch. “Very well.”
With an obvious concealed weapon bulge under his suit jacket, the hulking man led Cardoza and the vice mayor through the jubilant throng crowding the stage. As they moved—serenaded by the Samba band—Cardoza received many handshakes, back pats, and kisses from women in every age group.
They exited the sports complex onto a sidewalk crowded with more favela residents who could not get into the event. And again, Cardoza became the object of their adulation.
They crossed a two-way street—busy with motorcycles and scooters—and reached a block-long row of three-story buildings housing various stores.
The hulking man guided the trio a few steps down the block to a white building with a green awning and a sign identifying it as a food market. He stopped outside the glass door, removed keys from his front pocket, unlocked the door, and allowed Cardoza and the vice mayor to enter. He closed the door behind them and waited outside.
Cardoza took the lead up the customer-free store’s narrow center aisle and through a wooden door into a concrete-floored stockroom. Dry goods-filled shelves lined the space. On the back wall was an exit door, and to the right, an aluminum door with a large locking handle leading to a walk-in refrigerated storage room.
Cardoza stopped in the room’s center and faced the vice mayor with an authoritative glare.
The vice mayor stopped before Cardoza and took a step back. “So, where is my package?”
“Before we discuss that,” Cardoza said, “I wanted to talk to you about your son Sergio.”
“What about him?”
“He’s a handsome young man with many university friends who all enjoy a good time.”
The vice mayor checked his watch again. “What is your point?”
“The many parties Sergio has hosted in my hotel and the many party favors I have fronted him and the line of credit in the casino I allowed him have reached a considerable sum. And now that bill has come due.”
“Then you should have called a meeting with my son.”
“We both know Sergio is a worthless fool whose only income will ever be the allowance that his very wealthy father provides him. Therefore, I don’t consider his debt his responsibility. I consider it yours.”
The vice mayor flashed an incredulous smile. “Are you being serious?”
Cardoza’s face hardened further. “I never joke about matters of business. Now, I have subtracted my monthly tribute to you from Sergio’s accrued debt, and you still owe me two million five hundred thousand reais which I expect delivered to my office before 5 PM today.”
The vice mayor’s face fell into unhidden smugness. “You know, the mayor and I only tolerate your association with the traffickers at our pleasure.”
“Your pleasure being my payoffs,” Cardoza said. “But we both know the mayor is lost in senility and alcoholism, and you are the true master of his office.”
The vice mayor’s incredulous smile returned. “Oh yes, I forgot you are also involved in the world of politics now. Well, your good friend the president may run this country. But he does not run this city.”
Cardoza used his left forefinger and thumb to twist a thick gold ring on his right middle finger. “My father believed one of the most powerful tools a man could possess was a feared reputation. And a feared reputation was only as good as what a man is prepared to do to back it up.”
The vice mayor’s face reddened in anger. “Is that a threat?”
Cardoza moved to the back exit door and opened it to a late 30s Hispanic man with a shaved head, dark eyes, and a black goatee. The man entered the room.
He stood just a bit taller than the vice mayor. But instead of the vice mayor’s soft paunchy body, the man packed a true bodybuilder’s physique. Huge traps protruded above his tight, white tank top, which covered insanely pumped pecs and exposed massive, ripped arms crisscrossed with veins. The tank top v-ed into tight blue jeans over black boots. And in his right hand, the man carried a long, black duffle bag.
Cardoza shut the door behind the man and addressed the vice mayor again. “Do you know my associate, Alejandro Abreu, also known as ‘The Bull?’”
The vice mayor’s anger softened to concern. “I know of ‘The Bull.’”
“Then you know his reputation as well.”
Abreu placed the duffle bag on the floor, unzipped it, removed a bright orange chainsaw, and held it with the blade pointed toward the vice mayor.
The vice mayor cast nervous eyes at the blade stained a reddish-brown not produced from rust. “If you are threatening me with violence, surely you know hundreds, if not thousands, of people watched us walk in here together.”
Cardoza nodded. “Yes, I know this. That’s why I’m not threatening you with violence.” He moved to the walk-in refrigerated cooler door and opened it.
Inside, a pile of blood covered human torsos, limbs, and male heads sat atop a blood clogged drain on the metal floor.
The vice mayor’s face recoiled away from the gore.
Cardoza continued. “Those poor boys only stole a small amount from me and look at the price they paid for it.” He closed the door. “Now, Mr. Vice Mayor, I know you think you must go to the police and report my implied threats to your son. But the police have come to you instead.”
Cardoza again moved to the rear exit door and opened it to a light-blue uniformed police officer and a nicely dressed, terrified, gagged, and handcuffed college-aged male. “Of course, you know Deputy Chief Morales. His men easily found Sergio for me this morning.”
The vice mayor glared at the officer. “I thought he only paid your department to ignore his activities. You do his bidding now?”
The police officer addressed the vice mayor, “It is best if you accept Mr. Cardoza’s terms.”
Cardoza smiled. “Yes, let’s all work together and all live and prosper in peace. And then Sergio will not end up in that cooler.”
The vice mayor’s eyes fell to the floor. “The money will be in your office before 5 PM.”
After the vice mayor left with his still terrified son, the deputy chief received more instructions from Cardoza before leaving too.
Cardoza then joined Abreu and his re-packed duffle bag sitting atop the store’s front counter with two pilfered beers.
Abreu handed one beer to Cardoza and opened the other for himself. “I have to admit, Cardoza, you really know how to work when collecting a debt.”
“Work?” Cardoza said. “Is that another of your pro wrestling slang terms?”
“Yes. And it’s a good thing.”
Cardoza opened his beer. “Alejandro, that dumb kid didn’t just cost his father two and a half million reais. He cost him the mayor’s office, which I will control now.”
“Yeah, I watched him become your bitch back there. But it was news to me too that the deputy chief is now taking an active role with you. Not sure if I like that.”
“Why?” Cardoza said. “You already have half the force on your payroll.”
Abreu held his beer bottle up for toasting. “Just as long as your business does not interfere with mine.”
<
br /> Cardoza tinked his bottle against Abreu’s, and they both took a drink.
After swallowing, Cardoza gestured toward the backroom. “Who were those guys in the cooler, anyway?”
Abreu took another drink and swallow. “Good story. This guy I do business with who brings shit across the border says he wants me to meet these four guys he knows about some more business prospects.”
“So, I meet these four guys, and they tell me they recruit teenage girls from very poor small villages up in Amazonas and Goiás and other places in the north, and they tell the girls that they have connections to give them a better life. And these are very naive and desperate girls, so they agree. And then these four guys bring these girls to the cities and put them to work in the sex industry and keep 90 percent of what they make. It’s like free money, they tell me.”
“Then they say they have many girls already here in Rio they wish to sell and ask how many of these girls would I like to buy from them? And I say, bring me all the girls you have here. And they are very happy, and they bring me over 40.”
“And then I chopped these four guys up alive with my chainsaw.” Abreu patted the duffle bag. “And I give the girls some money and send them back to their homes.”
Cardoza smiled. “Alejandro, you’re a true humanitarian. They’ll be giving you awards like me someday.”
Abreu choke-laughed on his beer.
“Getting back to our business,” Cardoza said. “My boys will be planting your toys tonight. You explained the controls to Dimitri. And I already know about such devices but explain yours to me anyway.”
Abreu set his beer on the counter. “I made them safe and simple for your simple boys. Just flip open the red safety cover and then press the yellow button to activate. Once it’s activated—which is almost instantaneous—the green button lights up, and it’s ready to go.”
“And you’re sure they will all work as promised?”
Abreu smiled. “Just listen to the news tomorrow morning. It’s all they’ll talk about.”
VENGEANCE REAWAKENED Page 3