The Bonita Protocol

by P J Skinner

  After the measurements had been recorded, Galo let both Sam and Napoleon use the theodolite to get a line of sight down the tunnel. He showed them how to focus the instrument and line it up for a perfect measurement.

  ‘Any tiny deviations add up. If we don’t get the survey right, we can’t be sure if the tunnels are in the correct position on the three-dimensional model. If you are planning to drill into this area, any mistakes in the mapping can cause the drill to hole out in a tunnel instead of drilling through the rocks lining it.’

  The mapping tutorial with the theodolite signalled the start of a routine. Galo and Napoleon headed down to the mine after breakfast every morning while Sam delegated the tasks of the day, and attempted to call Marina in Calderon on the radio. She would then join them in the mine and work until lunchtime. In the afternoon, there was core to log, so Sam helped the geologists, Kennedy and Marlon down at the core shed while Galo transferred his data onto the master map in the canteen.

  The two young geologists looked like brothers, but they were second cousins. They belonged to the Torres family, a large wealthy clan based in Calderon, who had made their money from artisanal mining. They had been sent to get experience in exploration techniques and management before returning to their family’s fiefdom.

  The Torres boys were fiercely loyal to Javier who had recommended them for the job. Sam could not fault their enthusiasm and good humour, but she soon noticed that if Javier appeared in the core shed, they ignored her instructions and hung on his every word. There was something cosa nostra about the whole relationship.

  Despite their loyalty to Javier, the cousins soon adapted to Sam’s new sampling protocols, introduced after she discovered that there were no procedures to check the reliability of the sampling procedures and the accuracy of the laboratory they were using.

  ‘Do you insert any blanks in the samples?’ she said.

  Their faces were just that.

  ‘And what about duplicates?’

  They looked at each other and shrugged.

  ‘No problem. I’ll explain later, but first we need some samples. Who fancies a field trip tomorrow?’

  The next day, they set out from camp after breakfast, following a path that rose up the ridge from the accommodation block and skirting the ridge that ran between the project and the artisanal mining town of Monterico. The route they were following left the ridge and snaked its way through mature rain forest above the adit entrance at Cerro Calvo below. The path was lined with flat stones and for the most part was easy to follow. They had to clamber over several fallen trees but obstacles were rare. As they rose higher the trees thinned out, and they emerged into the drizzle.

  ‘Who built this path?’ said Sam.

  ‘The Incas,’ said Marlon

  ‘Where does it go?’

  ‘Nowhere. They used it to transport gold from the mines.’

  ‘The Incas were here first?’

  ‘They found nearly all the deposits in Sierramar. They needed gold for their temples and rituals.’

  Despite the rain, rivulets of sweat ran down Sam’s back and she had stopped several times to drink from her supply of water. She had two full litres on her back and drinking made it lighter as well as slaking her raging thirst. Finally, they came to a series of steep granite ledges with vertical joints running through them. The joints had the same strike as the main series of faults in the mine below. The pink rock had large crystals making it technically a pegmatite but with no sign of mineralisation or metamorphism.

  They climbed up the ledges until they reached a part of the granite that was too steep for climbing. They sat down to rest with their backs against the warm stone and gazed out over the breath-taking view. Sam took photographs and notes of the granite as well as the view. The geologists hammered at the granite and removed large chunks of it for taking back to the core shed.

  ‘What’s the rock for?’ said Marlon.

  ‘We need some samples without gold in them to check that the calibration equipment is working in the laboratory we’re using for analysis.’

  ‘Won’t they know what we’re doing?’

  ‘No, we insert them every twenty samples or so following the numbering sequence. There’s no reason for them to know that they are blanks.’

  ‘And the duplicates?’

  ‘We put two samples from the same piece of core into the sample analysis sequence with different numbers. If they have differing results, this generally indicates that the laboratory is not reliable. It’s a bit trickier with our deposit because we have nuggety gold which skews the results.’

  ‘So, you could have a nugget in one sample from a piece of core and none in the other from the same section, and get completely different results,’ said Kennedy.

  ‘Yes, but the results would be completely different so it would be obvious. It would be more suspicious if they were identical.’

  ‘You mean that the results from the samples we’ve already received might be wrong?’ said Marlon.

  ‘Yes, the reason for checking is to make sure the results correlate to the geology. How else are we going to work out what’s going on?’

  ‘That’s really cool,’ said Kennedy.

  ‘It’s worth making another trip up here see if we can pick up any veins similar to those in the mine. That would increase the size of the deposit,’ said Sam.

  They descended in the cool evening rain reaching camp before nightfall. The geologists stored the lumps of granite in the core shed ready to be cut into pieces by the rock saw.

  The trip up the mountain had been instructive. Cerro Calvo mountain was a granite intrusion that had pushed its way through the layered volcanics and sediments of an ancient basin. The veins in the mine seemed to have resulted from liquids emerging from the cooling granite and filling the cracks in the layered rocks. Some of the same gold bearing fluids could have penetrated the more permeable layers in the sequence forming tabular bodies of mineralised rock. If she could locate any or several of them, they would be in business.

  ‘Have you got any shares in Bonita Mining?’ said Rhett, as they sat downstairs drinking a coffee and smoking a cigarette.

  ‘Shares? No. Why?’

  ‘Maclean didn’t give you any options as part of your package?’

  ‘I don’t know what an option is,’ said Sam.

  ‘It’s the right to buy shares in the future for today’s price. So if the price goes up in the future you can buy and sell the shares at the same time and take the profit without spending any money.’

  ‘I definitely didn’t get any of those,’ she said.

  ‘If I were you, I’d buy some shares anyway. They are bound to go up when our results are published.

  He obviously hasn’t seen the core. There’s no way the results will be any good.

  ‘Thanks for the tip.’

  ‘I’d hate to see you miss out,’ said Rhett.

  He seemed sincere but Sam didn’t want to spend her hard-earned salary on shares that she believed were more likely to go down than up.

  Rhett left for Calderon the next morning, unable to contain his glee about leaving the rain sodden valley. Sam had mixed feelings about his departure. There was something dodgy about him she couldn’t identify, but despite his vindictive attitude, she had found less to complain about than she had anticipated. He could be good company when he made an effort, and his casual misogyny was not unexpected from an Australian man.

  He set off accompanied by a mule train carrying sacks of core samples for processing in Calderon. Also contained in the sacks were some double bagged samples of tailings sand.

  ‘We might as well test it. There’s not enough material to justify any sort of plant but we could help the cooperative set up the Nelson concentrator if they paid us back,’ said Sam.

  ‘You’re the boss.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  He smirked.

  Why did she let him push her buttons?

  Sam set about instructing the geolog
ists how to insert the duplicates and blanks into the sampling sequence and bag them up for transport to Calderon on the next trip. She made meticulous notes on the sequence of the samples and their contents which she copied out by hand due to the absence of a photocopier.

  She stored one copy in the core shed and the other she sealed into a Ziplock bag which she put under her mattress. The copy in her bedroom identified the blanks and duplicates but the one in the core shed did not. She did not want her controls to be identified by the laboratory and she wasn’t sure that anyone in the Calderon office had the knowledge to use them. It wasn’t like Rhett or Amanda had any interest in the quality control of the sampling.

  Time flew by, and soon it was time for her break in Calderon. Sam left most of her gear with Selma for washing and storing in her room. She tried not to run on her way down the mountain but it was tempting to keep up with the locals. Fording the streams on the back of the descending mules, her exhilaration only increased.

  Carlos, the taxi driver waited for her in Arboleda. His face wrinkled into a big smile when he saw her trotting down the main street. Her agility had increased after weeks at the Cerro Calvo project and it showed. He drove her to San Pedro. She did not even notice the road of death as she was sound asleep in the back of the taxi.

  The flight to Calderon took off without incident, bumping and barging its way through the troublesome thermals over the airport. Sam read her notes and anticipated the analysis results which awaited her in the office. What secrets did they hold? Was Bill Maclean correct or were they drilling a dud? She couldn’t wait to find out.

  Chapter VII

  Sam took a taxi home from the airport desperate for a proper shower before venturing to the office. She found Gloria still in bed, mascara caked around her eyes, her face creased with sleep.

  ‘You’re back? I can’t believe how fast the time went by.’

  ‘It seemed like quite a long time to me,’ said Sam, grimacing. ‘Cerro Calvo is amazing though. You can’t imagine how beautiful it is up there.’

  Gloria managed a weak smile.

  ‘You can tell me all about it later. I’ve a terrible chuchaqui.’

  Hungover. That figures.

  ‘Out with Amanda again? Isn’t Alfredo jealous?’

  ‘I don’t know. I never see him. He’s asleep when I’m awake and I’m awake when he’s already gone out to work.’

  ‘What’s he working on?’

  ‘Something. I don’t know.’

  Gloria slid down her pillows.

  ‘I’m going back to sleep now,’ she said. ‘Let’s talk later.’

  Sam, who had been bursting with tales of Cerro Calvo, found this a little deflating, but she knew better than to continue. Instead, she luxuriated in a long, hot shower and washed her hair until it squeaked. She jumped into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and brushed her hair before going to the kitchen for a mug of tea and a big wedge of banana bread.

  Araceli, the maid, fussed around her, trying to make her eat more.

  ‘You’ve lost weight. Don’t they feed you up there?’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry about me. There’s a nice cook called Selma who gives me all the best bits.’

  ‘Have you got any laundry?’

  ‘No thank you, I left all my field gear in camp.’

  ‘Little David’s been missing you. He’ll be so excited when I tell him you’re back.’

  ‘I’ve been missing him too. I brought him a present.’

  Refreshed by her shower and clean clothes, Sam took another taxi to the office. As she approached, a growing feeling of anticipation took hold of her. She waved at Stalin, who was sitting at reception, absorbed in his newspaper.

  ‘Señorita Sam, you are back,’ he said. ‘Go on up.’

  She forded the steps two at a time, remembering only at the top that Calderon was much higher than the camp at Cerro Calvo. She put her head around the door of the office.

  ‘Hello, anybody about?’

  Marina appeared from behind the partition, a frazzled look on her face.

  ‘Sam, you’re back. Aren’t you supposed to be on your break?’

  ‘I popped in to see the results of the analysis. I couldn’t wait until next week.’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise it. If I were you…’

  But Marina never got to finish her sentence. The door of Amanda’s office swung open with a theatrical bang and Amanda stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She wore a tight, purple lurex dress with a plunging neckline and matching patent leather stiletto heels. Her eyelids were covered in shimmering purple eyeshadow and one of her false eyelashes was coming away from her eye lid. Had she come straight to the office from the night club?

  Whatever the story, she now had metaphorical steam coming out of her ears.

  ‘About time,’ she hissed. ‘Where have you been? The plane landed two hours ago.’

  All Sam’s excitement evaporated and was replaced by resentment. She wasn’t even supposed to be in the office and now she was being reprimanded, she didn’t know what for. However, Amanda was prone to jumping to conclusions, so there was only one way of sorting this out. Sam swallowed a retort. and tried to appear apologetic.

  ‘I smelled awful,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to subject you to that so I went home to get clean, but I’m here now.’

  ‘Coffee.’ This was aimed at Marina, who scuttled off to the kitchenette. ‘Why are you standing there like a lamp post? Come in to my office.’

  Sam took a deep breath and followed Amanda into her den. Amanda sat behind her desk so Sam pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. Amanda lit a cigarette and searched through a pile of papers on her desk.

  ‘Would you like to explain this?’ she said extracting a sheaf of papers from the pile and tossing it across her desk.

  The papers fell on the floor before Sam could catch them and she scrabbled around collecting them from the carpet before sitting back on her chair.

  ‘Explain what?’ she said, flipping through them and organising them by page number. A cursory glance alerted her to the fact the results were awful. Derisory amounts of gold in some samples and absent in others. Except for…

  ‘Well?’ Amanda drummed her purple nails on the desk and smoked her cigarette with undisguised fury. ‘I can’t believe you’re so useless. I thought you were a professional.’

  Sam looked up from the sheets and their dismal numbers. Fatigued by working twelve hours a day for twenty-one days straight, she was not in the mood to be browbeaten by someone who looked as if they were a member of Boney M. She looked up and into Amanda’s furious glare.

  ‘These results are disappointing…’

  ‘Disappointing? They’re downright appalling. What sort of a geologist are you? I should’ve known that a woman would be crap. It’s fucking typical of Bill Maclean. He’s less use than a cricket bat in a brothel.’

  Sam could think of several uses for one but she wasn’t dumb enough to say so. She sat back and let Amanda rant on for several more minutes knowing that she would have to stop eventually to light another cigarette. Sure enough, Amanda ran out of steam and started fumbling for her packet of Marlboros.

  ‘These aren’t my samples,’ said Sam. She waited for this to sink in. Amanda took a deep drag on her cigarette and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘What do you mean they aren’t your samples? Didn’t they come from Cerro Calvo?’

  ‘Yes, I believe so, but they were taken from holes drilled before I got there. All I did was bag them for Rhett to take down the hill.’

  Amanda took another long pull on her cigarette.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, glancing at Sam from under her false eyelashes. A contrite expression flashed across her features, and then vanished to be replaced by one of malice.

  ‘Well, if you’re so clever, explain why these last four samples have so much gold in them.’

  Sam leafed through the pages until she found the one with the tailings’ samples. She pretended to be examining
the results and furrowed her brow in fake concentration while she counted to twenty under her breath. She could hear Amanda rasping with impatience and she smirked to herself before raising her head again.

  ‘They’re from the tailings pond.’

  ‘Tailings pond?’ Amanda looked bemused, but then she stood up pushing her swivel chair back against the wall. ‘The tailings pond,’ she repeated. ‘Of course. Rhett told me.’

  She took another melodramatic suck on her cigarette before pointing it theatrically at Sam. ‘So, what are you doing about the shit results from the drill core?’

  ‘Nothing yet.’ Does she think I’m Wonder Woman? I only saw the results five minutes ago. She noticed the look on Amanda’s face. Another tantrum on the way. How tiresome.

  ‘But I’m working on it,’ she said, hurriedly. ‘I’m having the mine tunnels mapped to make a three-dimensional model so we can figure out the geology.’

  ‘But we don’t have the software for that. I can’t afford it.’

  ‘Ah, but who needs software? We have brains, and a surveyor called Galo Martin, who is a wizard with old style calculus and triangulation. It takes a bit longer but the results are the same. If anything, they are more accurate.’

  ‘Really? That’s the first bit of decent news I’ve had all week.’

  Amanda’s features relaxed and she leaned back in her chair.

  ‘I aim to please,’ said Sam, standing up. ‘I’m going home now.’

  ‘But I was looking forward to a girly chat about your adventures.’

  The woman was schizophrenic. Jekyll and Hyde in a skin tight lurex dress. Sam shuddered but kept a neutral expression.

  ‘Why don’t you come by Gloria’s house later for a gin and tonic. That way I won’t have to repeat myself.’

  Amanda beamed and stubbed her cigarette out in a saucer.

  ‘That would be nice. I’ll be there later.’

  ‘Everything okay?’ Marina whispered as Sam walked past.

  Sam rolled her eyes.

  ‘Lucky to get out alive,’ she said and winked.

  By the time Sam got home, Gloria had managed to drag herself out of bed and was sitting out under the sunshine in the back garden of Alfredo’s house smoking a cigarette. Sam made them both a gin and tonic, squeezing a fresh lime into the mixture in tall glasses with lots of ice. She scrounged a cigarette from Gloria and they sat on loungers in the dusty warmth of the Calderon afternoon watching the world pass by.