19:03 13 December [01:03 14 December GMT]
Maria Isabel Sheraton Hotel, Río Danubio, Cuauhtémoc, Mexico City, Mexico.
Jane had made a call to one of her contacts from the airport after they landed; he was waiting in the bar of the hotel for her. He didn't look as relaxed as he normally did. She didn't like having to leave George behind in his hotel room, but she knew that her contact would never speak in front of two people at once. Two people could provide for corroboration; a conversation with one person makes for deny-ability.
He saw her enter the bar so he rose and headed for one of the booths in the back of the room, he chose one that was not well lit, sitting under the one working light so that whilst his face was in shadow he could keep an eye on the room. As Jane sat down opposite him one of the waitresses trotted up to take their drinks order.
'You're looking exceptionally well Jane.'
'And you are still as charming as ever Eduardo. How's the wife and children?'
'They are fine, thank you.' So, it's straight to business then, he thought. 'What is it that I, a humble civil servant can do for you?'
Eduardo Gonzalez a humble civil servant? Humble my arse, thought Jane, you're the deputy chief of police in Mexico City and what you don't know about isn't worth knowing.
'The Sunarr.' Jane almost whispered it out.
'I see.’ Eduardo said wiping the sweat from his brow. 'I know some things, I want to know more. We will do a trade no? Yes, we will exchange what we know and you will make a contribution to my favourite charity.'
If only all my contacts whereas straight forward as him, he wants a bribe and a large one at that, I'll wager.
‘OK’ Jane replied simply, 'what have you got?'
‘Well’ Eduardo took a long pull on his beer, 'They have made some very powerful friends in the government. This has caused a split, not along party lines, but between those the Sunarr favour and those they do not. The usual process of governing has all but ceased. The only game in town is the trade for technology. They have been given everything they want, or at least I haven't heard that they have been denied anything, so that is the same, no? The Ministry of Justice is favoured, the military not. The rest are not so clear, with certain politicians having their backing. Access to the Sunarr is all-important, and they will do anything to gain it. There are secret meetings, I do not know the substance, but I can guess. They are dealing out the spoils. One other thing, there was a ruckus in the Finance Ministry but that quietened down when the Minister resigned, supposedly on health grounds.'
Jane pondered all this for a second. 'What do you know of the mines?'
'Probably less than you. However it is rumoured that some have been handed over to the Sunarr who apparently have a better extraction technique.' Eduardo chuckled to himself.
'Why the laugh?'
'Because I am not a fool. The prisons near the mines are emptying fast. I guess the Sunarr's extraction technique involves a lot of manual labour.'
Jane knew Eduardo well enough to know that he didn't care what happened to prisoners, rot in prison, rot in a mine, it is all the same to him.
'So what have you for me?' Eduardo took another long pull on his beer, mopped his brow again, and relaxed back into his seat.
'It's the same story really.' Jane was wondering how much she should disclose. 'The Sunarr have enmeshed themselves into the government of each country. Officially, they are discussing things; however, I have heard that the discussions are mostly one way and that they are entering into very long term agreements. No country wants to be left behind, and they definitely don't want to be left out. Those countries that the Sunarr haven't engaged with but who are powerful enough are entering into agreements with countries who have been engaged.' Jane stopped to take a sip of her drink and think through what she was going to say next.
'Your country is not the only one with mines.' Jane took a breath. 'They are building huge domes over the mines all around the world. We have no idea what they are doing inside and no one is talking.' Jane took another breath. 'They also seem to be exclusively gold mines.'
'Arhhh so it is true!' Eduardo exclaimed.
'What's that?' Jane inquired, pleased that the additional information she revealed had provoked a response.
'It is rumoured that was why the Finance Minister really resigned. When he found out that vast reserves of gold had been promised to the Sunarr in future payment he protested. He reasoned that if it was worth that much to the Sunarr it must be worth more to us. He was given his marching orders.'
'I need to get into one of those mines.'
'I see. That will be an extra contribution. Go to the town of San Simon de Guerrero ask for Manuel Gonzalez, he is my second cousin, in the Hotel Posada La Misión he will be expecting you.'
'I am with a colleague'
'Then he will be expecting you both.'
20:25 13 December [02:25 14 December GMT]
Hotel Posada La Misión, San Simon de Guerrero, 60 miles South West of Mexico City.
The Hotel Posada La Misión is a fairly typical example of a Mexican bar come hotel. The colourfully tiled walls, floors, and archways give it almost the appearance of a theme bar. However it is both a practical method of providing a clean interior as well as providing much needed decoration to what would otherwise be just drab cement.
They checked in arranging an open-ended stay. The manager didn't seem to care much one way or the other, they were paying the posted price, which was three times what was normally paid, and for that, they could be a little vague. They left a deposit of a week’s stay and departed to their room for much needed showers.
Changed and refreshed they entered the bar, the clientele they could tell straight away were almost entirely locals or Mexicans at least. This was not a tourist destination, but then Jane and George were not here to see the sights. Their cover, if it became needed, was that they were a newly married couple on a long honeymoon wishing to see some of the real world and Mexico was their first stop.
The bar was busy but not overly crowded. The other patrons paid them little attention. San Simon de Guerrero was off the beaten track but not off the map altogether. A little early, they grabbed a Corona each and found a table, cluttered but free. They didn't have to wait long for their contact. A large burly Mexican walked into the bar, the patrons making room for him as he swaggered his way through the crowd. Not only did he match the description, but also he moved with the air of someone in authority.
Another policeman, Jane thought to herself.
He clapped eyes on the two gringos and sat his considerable bulk on one of the remaining chairs. A half smoked Cohiba wedged between his fingers flared into life as he drew on it. The smoke flowed out thick and pungent, it hung in the air and added to his image as a bandito.
'You 'ave a letter for me?' The man said releasing more of the thick, acrid smoke.
He is not as sophisticated as Eduardo, there is no pretence here, Jane thought to herself as she handed over the envelope bulging with cash. He took the envelope and not stopping to count it, secured it into an inside pocket.
'You understand what we want?'
'Si, wanna go La Guitarra.'
It took Jane a moment to process his accent, yes La Guitarra, the name of the mine.
'Yes. You think it is possible?'
'Si, of course. There is little I cannot arrange...' He left that thought hanging in the air, giving them both the distinct impression that the law in this town was made in the mind of the man sat opposite them. It's a good job I made this contact through Eduardo; I doubt this one can be trusted much.
'How will we get there?' George spoke up, afraid of putting their trust and safety in the hands of this man.
'A bus leaves in the morning. Eight. The driver will come for you at ten to. Be ready.'
'Does the driver know?'
'The driver knows he has two extra passengers, geologists. As far as he is concerned, the government is doing an inspection. Just b
e sure to pick up some rocks. Who knows, you might get rich!' He laughed at his own joke as he rose to leave.
'One other thing. If you are found out I don't know you.'
He swaggered his way back through the bar and left them to contemplate the implications of being found out.
The following morning they were dressed as best they could, smart casual but with good boots on, and standing in the lobby waiting for the driver. He arrived in good order, but speaking little English, he said “bus” and motioned for them to follow him. The bus itself had obviously seen better days in the thirty or so years since it had rolled off the production line. Its current owner provided only minimal maintenance requiring it just to transport passengers a relatively short distance twice a day. There were two other buses in the street, one either end of theirs, both of which looked just as rough. The driver brought them to the front of the queue, opening the door he ushered them to sit in the front, as if they were dignitaries. They both guessed that the driver had been well but not overly compensated for his trouble. The sun was rising fast and with it, the temperature. The drive to the mine at La Guitarra was thankfully short; if the bus ever had air-conditioning, it had long since given up trying to cool anything.
They both saw the dome in the distance, glimmering majestically. The time it took to reach the entrance gave them almost a feeling of vertigo such was its overwhelming size. They noticed four of the armed Sunarr guards outside the dome, however they were stood well to the side and there were humans there who looked like they were the ones to inspect vehicles. The bus groaned under its own weight as it juddered to a halt. The driver opened the door to let one of the Mexican guards board. The driver greeted him warmly, and spoke rapidly to him in Spanish, pointing to them halfway through his dialogue, at this the guard looked round and then opened his shirt, the driver slipped three envelopes into his open shirt and the driver quickly fastened it and hopped off the bus, waving it on.
It is necessary, thought George to himself, no, essential that in a world where the powerful can be corrupt, that others lower down need to be a bit corrupt too, otherwise despots could rule unchallenged. He realised that police the world over had operated on this basis for years, ignoring the small fish to land the big fish. He guessed it applied to governments too.
The bus moved and with that, they both found themselves leaning forward, straining for their first glimpse of the dome's interior. The bus in front resolutely obscured their front view however, so they pushed themselves to the side window, like two gawping tourists. It was bright inside, far brighter than they had expected. The light seemed intense and natural. At first, they couldn't see much more than the interior of the dome's surface, which seemed to stretch around them like the horizon. The further they travelled in the more they hoped to see signs of alien activity. They saw buildings that were obviously man made and had been in existence for many years. Tall structures revealed themselves to be huge cranes, mechanical diggers, and conveyor belts.
Nothing remotely alien so far, save for the presence of a significant number of alien guards, marching and manning posts, Jane reflected.
They could now start to see the sheer number of mineworkers. The normal complement of 300 miners had been bolstered by probably 500 more workers, all prisoners judging by their clothing. As they could see nothing immediately alien, they sat back in their seats, wary of attracting attention. The bus trundled on, finally coming to a stop at the head of the large, opencast pit. The miners immediately disembarked, keen to clock on, and get their day started. Jane and George followed behind, both wondering exactly what to do now. Their dilemma resolved itself in the shape of the shift foreman, a tall gaunt Mexican who didn't like surprises.
'They never tell us when these inspections are to take place. My day is busy enough as it is, but I will show you around the best I can. You 'merican?'
'No we are British, but on secondment to the US division’ Jane replied brightly.
'Si, si. Well let’s get started.' The shift foreman lead them as if he were a travel guide, explaining the history and basic facts of the mine without a thought as to whether they knew or cared. 'Mining in this area is believed to have first begun in the time of the Incas. In its lifetime, it has produced about 150,000 troy ounces of gold. Before the involvement of the Sunarr, it was producing an annual rate of 11,000 ounces, now it has increased to 48,000 ounces. A four-fold increase.’
The “tour” took them around the mine and its workings, the foreman never stopping to ask whether there were any questions, never caring either. At last they arrived back where they had started, the foreman looked pointedly at his watch to show that he had given them all the time he could spare.
'Well thank you very much,' Jane said giving him her best smile, resting her head slightly to the right, knowing the effect this usually had on men. It worked.
'Si. You're most welcome.' The smile the foreman returned fell well short of the mark, but it was the best he had.
'We will be here for a while; there are some things we need to establish.'
'Si, of course. If you need me just ask one of the men.' He said in a way that left them in no doubt that they shouldn't trouble him again, no matter how charming Jane's smile was. That suits me just fine, thought Jane.
Now they were two geologists, unsupervised in the mine. They followed one of the conveyor belts, believing that this would look innocent enough. George took a number of photographs, unhappy not to have his professional camera with him; he was making do with a compact SLR. Jane paused occasionally to inspect some rock, picking up small ones every now and again. They came to a stop at a junction of the conveyor belt, where convicts were reducing stray large rocks into several smaller ones, and replacing them on the belt. It looked like tough work, and they didn't seem to be enjoying it in the least.
'Any of you speak English?' Jane asked whilst inspecting the rocks the convicts were smashing.
'I do. My name is Saeb. My friend here Benjamin also speaks English.'
'Shalom.'
'Good. We are both journalists, we are investigating these camps. What can you tell us? Keep working we don't want to be spotted.' Jane instructed them.
'There are other camps like this?' Benjamin asked with some incredulity.
'Yes. There are dozens all around the world wherever there are gold deposits.'
'We were brought here against our will. We were in Reclusorio Norte prison. I am Palestinian, my friend here is Israeli. Conditions here are not good.' Saeb stated, trying to keep the passion out of his voice.
'There is no official acknowledgement of these camps. No one in the know is asking any questions for fear of upsetting relations with the Sunarr.' Jane replied.
'So it's true. We are slaves.' Benjamin observed, 'This is not acceptable, no man should be enslaved. I don't care what these Sunarr offer. Remember, it always starts with the lowest. They will subvert the governments next. Then no one will be free.'
'I think that has already started.' Jane replied, wishing she could offer some good news. Perhaps I can? 'Can you get messages out?'
‘We will.' Saeb assured here. 'Although I don't know how yet. We are working on an organised resistance.'
Jane scribbled in her pocket notebook; she tore out the page, screwed it up, and dropped it on the floor.
'That's the address of a local hotel. If you can get a message out send it to me there, I'll have arranged to have it forwarded to me. I'll use the same point as a drop off. Good luck.'
Jane and George moved on, acutely aware that staying too long in one place might seem suspicious. Using the perimeter of the open cast mine, they slowly moved round in a full circle. George taking photographs periodically to build a full map of the dome's interior. They spoke to other convicts, although they were less cooperative than the Palestinian and the Israeli. For the most part, they wanted to complain about their treatment and lack of access to lawyers or relatives. One convict proved different however. Calm, well-spoken and poss
essing a genuine sense of humour, he was another one who didn't fit the role of convict.
'Names Banks, Leroy Banks. Before I ended up in a Mexican prison, I was running a chain of jewellery stores back in the states. I still own it, but can't manage it from here.' Leroy waved an arm around to indicate that his surroundings were less than ideal for running a retail chain.
'I'm George. I had a nice life as a Professor of Military History. I took some time out as a freelance photographer and ended up in the UN when the Sunarr landed. Life's been kind of strange since then. How did you end up in a Mexican prison?'
'I have a branch in Mexico City. The day I was there, it was robbed. The guy pistol-whipped an old lady to the ground right in front of me. I shot him in the face. Guns are illegal in Mexico.' Leroy added with a shrug.
'In Britain too. But I guess if it had happened in the states they would have given you a medal.'
Leroy smiled at that. Grateful that he had made a connection with someone who didn't seem to judge him just because he had committed a crime under Mexican law.
'You should talk to the Palestinian and the Israeli.' George added, trying to be of help.
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