The Bonita Protocol

by P J Skinner

  ‘Bonne appetite,’ said Amanda and everyone picked up their spoons.

  Sam took a spoonful of soup and swallowed it. To her dismay, the soup contained massive amounts of chilli and it burned the inside of her mouth and throat. Her eyes started to stream and she coughed until she thought her lungs would fall out. Amanda screamed with laughter, joined by everyone at the table.

  Sam felt with her tongue and discovered blisters inside her cheeks. Amanda continued to laugh and make fun of her.

  ‘What a yokel. You didn’t know it was going to be hot?’

  All the blood drained from Sam’s face as she fought to control herself. Rhett noticed and he put a hand on her arm.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘It’s not worth it.’

  Somehow, she managed to swallow the rage and continue with dinner. The blisters were too painful to eat anything except rice. It was the only solid thing she could swallow.

  ‘Look, she’s afraid to eat,’ said Amanda, sniggering.

  ‘I’m not afraid,’ said Sam through gritted teeth. ‘My mouth is blistered from the soup.’

  She said it louder than she meant to. There was silence at the table as she held Amanda’s gaze.

  ‘Where were we?’ said Amanda. ‘Oh, yes, the Cerro Calvo project.’

  They finished dinner at ten o’clock and Amanda disappeared with one of the investors. Sam saw him place his hand on her buttock as they left. She caught Rhett’s eye and he grinned. They walked back to the hotel together. Rhett appeared to have sensed Sam’s isolation and misery, and did his best to make her laugh.

  ‘Come and have a night cap in the Fairmount,’ he said.

  ‘Why not? After the day I’ve had,’ said Sam.

  The eccentric doorman of the hotel had them laughing at his antics and they walked straight into Fergus who had just left the bar. He stopped stock still, staring at Sam.

  ‘I waited all evening for you,’ he said. ‘And you were out with this?’ He gesticulated at Rhett.

  ‘But Fergus--’

  ‘Don’t bother. I get the message.’

  He pushed past them and strode to the lifts.

  It was the final straw for Sam. She left Rhett standing in the lobby and ran outside, heading for her hotel. Her mouth hurt and her stomach grumbled from lack of food, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart. Her chance with Fergus had been blown. Amanda would pay for this. I’ll bring Bonita Mining and that bitch to her knees if it’s the last thing I do.

  The next day, Amanda did not appear at breakfast. Rhett did not mention Sam’s abortive date for which she was grateful. The blisters had receded and she forced herself to eat some eggs and toast. Afterwards, Sam and Rhett manned the booth together. Sam sat on the chair behind the counter and forced herself to hand out presentations to interested investors. She seethed with resentment.

  ‘Cheer up. It may never happen. I met--,’ said Rhett.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Sam snapped. ‘It has happened. That was my last chance. He’s the one and I blew it.’

  She stormed off to the toilets where she sat weeping with self-pity until she had no more tears. She received some withering looks from the overly done-up booth dollies who came in to relieve themselves, but no sympathy. Her outfit didn’t come up to snuff or her lack of makeup. Whatever the reason, they left without acknowledging her.

  When she returned to the booth, Rhett had gone. Why did I snap at him? It’s not his fault my love life is a disaster. Despite her initial dislike, she had begun to have a grudging appreciation for his better qualities. The conference was getting worse by the minute.

  The day dragged. Amanda did not make an appearance at the booth. When Rhett came back, he brought her a bar of chocolate.

  ‘Chocolate is good for heartache,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you,’ said Sam.

  ‘That’s okay. I get it.’

  They ran out of printed presentations by mid-afternoon and Sam went back to her room, glad of the excuse to hide away. Later, Rhett dragged her out to dinner, promising Italian and no chilli.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be squiring Miss Ballard around town,’ said Sam.

  ‘She’s far too busy with her latest toy boy. She only uses my services when she’s desperate.’

  ‘How can you bear it?’ said Sam.

  ‘Money. I don’t care about her. I care about me. This gig’s going to make me rich.’

  ‘But how do you know? Exploration is a gamble, not a certainty.’

  ‘The markets, sheila. They have gone berserk. All caution and due diligence have evaporated from the boiling sea of opportunity. Exploration companies are doubling their share prices overnight. It’s a bonanza.’

  ‘Will it last?’

  ‘No. That’s why I’m out of here the first chance I get. When Amanda gets her funding, you won’t see me for dust.’

  Rhett hesitated.

  ‘If I were you,’ he said.

  ‘If you were me, what?’ said Sam.

  ‘Nothing. Be careful.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I wasn’t born yesterday.’

  They ate bowls of pasta with creamy sauces and a bottle of chianti which repaired Sam’s hurt feelings a little. Rhett had made her even more determined to spoil Amanda’s party before it got started. Hopefully he wouldn’t be collateral damage but that was up to him. The mystery of the missing sample sheets had not been resolved but she found it odd that Rhett hadn’t mentioned them if he had been the one to take them from her room. After all, it would ruin their scam if she had proof of irregularities in the analysis of samples.

  Amanda was cock-a-hoop at breakfast the next day. As usual, she neglected to apologise for her absence of the day before and instead railed at Sam for running out of presentations.

  ‘Why didn’t you print more?’

  ‘You asked for five hundred. We stayed up all night to get them ready before the flight,’ said Sam.

  ‘Anyway, it’s all good,’ said Rhett. ‘We’ve got investors fighting over us.’

  ‘Fighting over me, you mean,’ said Amanda, flicking her hair.

  Rhett bit his lip and for once Sam sympathised.

  They checked in at the airport and Sam went to browse through duty free while the others went to their lounges. She bought a bottle of Beautiful perfume by Estee Lauder for Gloria. She couldn’t resist a bargain and it was half price, which was the excuse she gave herself for buying it, but in reality, it was a peace offering. Gloria had been craving a bottle for ages and Alfredo needed an opening gambit.

  While she waited to board at the gate, a voice over the Tannoy called her to the boarding desk. What now? Were they going to bump her off? She approached with trepidation and handed over her passport.

  ‘If you don’t take that sulky look off your face, I won’t give you your upgrade,’ said the steward, doing a teapot.

  Sam couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve had a nasty few days. My upgrade?’ she stammered.

  ‘Yes, all the way to Calderon. Now who’s a lucky girl then?’

  She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat. Taking the ticket, she almost kissed it with gratitude.

  ‘Thank you. You’ve no idea how grateful I am. I might cry.’

  ‘That’s all right, love. You’re in my cabin and I’m going to treat you like a princess all the way to Miami.

  When Rhett realised that Sam was in his cabin, he tried to sit next to her, but Sam shook her head at the steward who understood immediately.

  ‘I’m sorry sir. This seat is out of order. You’ll have to stay where you are,’ he said, winking at Sam.

  As soon as they took off, Sam put her seat back and snuggled under her blanket, she fell fast asleep. The steward smiled when he saw her. The crew discussed her as they heated up the ready meals.

  ‘That poor girl in seat 7A looks worn out.’

  ‘Lucky we don’t have to feed her. She’s an upgrade.’

  ‘She certainly is,�
� said the steward.

  Chapter XVII

  A Canadian investor soon emerged from the pack as the company most likely to put funds into Bonito Mining. After an option agreement had been exchanged, Amanda invited him to Calderon to see the project for himself. Horace Burns and his geologist, Manfred Buendia arrived at the airport on a typical foggy morning to be collected by Gloria and whisked to the office.

  Since their first priority lay in a field visit to the project, they were shuttled back to the airport the next day by a disgruntled Gloria, who was beginning to resent Amanda’s demands, being a woman who gave orders not took them.

  ‘She’s worse than Sam,’ she told her father. ‘All gringas are unbearable.’

  ‘Isn’t it time you made up with Sam,’ said Hernan Sanchez. ‘I can’t believe you swallowed that tale about Alfredo. That Amanda woman is trying to drive a wedge between my two girls.’

  Gloria bristled.

  ‘Your two girls? Is Sam your girl too?’

  ‘Yes, and she should be yours. Amanda has pulled the wool over your eyes so far you are going to trip over it.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do, I’m not a child.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  After making sure that the men got on the flight, Gloria drove back from the airport. She bought fresh bread rolls on the way and found herself outside Alfredo’s house. She lingered there for several minutes, engine running for a quick getaway. Suddenly David appeared at the front door. Before she could press the accelerator, his face lit up and he charged down the path towards the car. He opened the door and stuck his face in.

  ‘Hello, Mummy, did you come to see me? Are you coming home yet? We miss you a lot. Wow, that bread smells good. Can I have some?’

  He stuck his hand into the bag and removed a warm almond roll. The school bus lumbered into view and the driver tooted the horn.

  ‘See you soon, kisses,’ said David, skipping to the bus.

  ‘Kisses,’ said Gloria.

  When the bus had gone, Araceli came over to the car and planted herself on the driver’s side. She knocked on the window which Gloria lowered with reluctance.

  ‘What do you want? Hasn’t Alfredo paid you?’ said Gloria.

  Araceli raised an eyebrow but she didn’t back down.

  ‘Why don’t you come in for coffee,’ she said. ‘I just made it.’

  Gloria turned off the engine and grabbed the bag of fresh bread. Within minutes she was sipping hot sweet coffee and exchanging gossip with Araceli at the kitchen counter. A rattling noise came from Alfredo’s office and he emerged rubbing his eyes.

  ‘That smells amazing,’ said Alfredo.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was here?’ said Gloria but Araceli had already headed for the utility room.

  Alfredo took a minute to refocus. The smile that infused his face was radiant when he realised his wife had come to visit.

  ‘Darling. You’re here. Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  He stood flapping his hands, unsure if he was allowed to embrace her or not. Gloria took in his clean shirt and shaven face.

  ‘What are you doing awake so early?’ said Gloria.

  ‘Oh, I’m working on something. I’m always up at dawn these days. Being sober is a lot of work.’

  Gloria blinked several times but she didn’t speak. She slipped off her stool and shuffled over to him, sniffing him like a puppy. He stayed rooted to the spot as if afraid to alarm her by any sudden movement. She touched his cheek and a large tear escaped from his eye followed by a stream of them, negotiating the grey stubble on his chin and dripping onto the parquet floor.

  ‘I’m so sorry, mi vida,’ he managed.

  She put a finger on his lips. ‘You’re sorry? You don’t know what sorry is.’

  She put her head on his shoulder and he gently encircled her in his arms.

  ***

  The news that an investor would be visiting the project almost gave Sam a panic attack. She did not yet have positive proof that someone was interfering with the samples but her instincts told her there was no other possibility. At least Selma had solved the mystery of the missing lists

  ‘I’ve got your papers,’ said Selma when Sam had got back to site.

  ‘What papers?’ said Sam.

  ‘The ones you kept under your mattress. I left them under your pillow for you.’

  Sam swore under her breath, sagging against the wall. Mystery solved.

  ‘Why did you have them?’ she said.

  ‘I’m not sure I should tell you,’ said Selma, frowning. ‘But I was changing the sheets on your bed on your last shift when I heard Señor Rhett tell Javier he had left something in your room and he needed to get it back. At that moment the Ziplock bag fell on the floor from under your mattress. I don’t know why but I picked it up and kept it.’

  ‘You did the right thing. Those papers are unique. I’m so grateful.’

  Selma bit her lip.

  ‘I didn’t tell Javier either,’ she said. ‘I don’t think they’ve been fair with you.’

  ‘That’s okay. We’re used to it, huh?’

  The project still had potential, as yet unexplored, so could she promote it with a good conscience or should she give subtle signals of her unease? A conundrum that kept her awake at night but not one with an easy solution.

  She sent one of the men to Arboleda to meet the investors and organise mules from Lorena Verdoza at the local shop. He had specific instructions for Pepe the mule driver not to stop at the half-way house but to take some cans of soft drink from the shop and stop after they had passed it. The thought of Señor Muerte taking an interest in her visitors gave her palpitations.

  Sam’s quandary increased when Horace Burns turned out to be intelligent, amusing and respectful of her role as exploration manager. Both he and his geologist arrived on foot, looking bedraggled and muddy. The flight from Calderon had been delayed and they had arrived later than usual at Arboleda. Their mules had been unwilling to mount the hill at that hour in the afternoon and they had been forced to make the journey on foot.

  There was no time to visit the mine that evening so Sam and Galo Martin had prepared a presentation of maps and samples in the canteen before dinner. The men relaxed with a coffee and a biscuit while Sam gave a summary of the exploration that had been completed.

  She handed them samples from the high-grade veins which were being mined by the cooperative, inducing a low whistle from the geologist, Manfred Buendia.

  ‘There’s a lump of visible gold in this sample,’ he said. ‘Is that common?’

  ‘If I tell you that the tailings from the vein workings run at fifteen grammes a tonne, does that clarify things?’ said Sam.

  ‘Whoa! That’s amazing. Can you imagine the original grade?’ said Horace.

  ‘It’s extraordinary, but it’s not the main target,’ said Sam. ‘It’s unlikely that there are enough unmined veins left in this deposit to justify building a plant here. The presence of nuggets makes it difficult to establish a rational grade for the deposit.’

  ‘The market will love these grades though.’ said Horace.

  ‘That’s true and it will help excite the punters, but it’s what might lie beneath the veins that is the primary target.’

  When the presentation had finished, the workforce turned up for dinner and Selma served a soup with pieces of meat and yuca in it. Scarcely had soup spoons been raised in anger than there was a knock on the door. Javier got up from the table and went to open it. Señor Muerte and the Lara brothers were standing outside carrying a slab of beef fillet and two bottles of Siete Pingas.

  ‘Good evening,’ said Señor Muerte, touching his brow in salute and looking past Javier into the canteen. ‘We are looking for the Queen of Cerro Calvo.’

  ‘Who on earth’s the Queen?’ said Horace, who spoke passable Spanish.

  ‘Um, me,’ said Sam, blushing and avoiding Muerte’s inquiring glance. She shuffled over to the door. Javier gave her a look
that shouted get rid of them but thinking on her feet, Sam decided otherwise.

  ‘Good evening gentlemen, would you like to join us?’ she said.

  The three brothers trooped in with Señor Muerte and introduced themselves to the guests. Javier and the geologists went to fetch an extra table and benches from the bunk house. An air of awed respect had settled over the workforce. Señor Muerte had an undisputed status in the area and a fearsome reputation. Javier placed the new table up against the end of the one containing the managers and invited the arrivals to sit.

  ‘Eat your dinners,’ said Javier to the workers who were paralysed with indecision and hovered with their spoons over their soup.

  Normal service was resumed and the clink of cutlery on cheap plates soon rang in the tense atmosphere. Selma wiped the extra table and laid it for their guests. Sam reorganised the seating so Horace could converse across the table with them. She sat on his right opposite Muerte with Manfred on his left.

  Sam slipped into the kitchen.

  ‘Have we got enough soup?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll add salty water, no-one will notice,’ said Selma. ‘That’s a beautiful piece of beef they brought us. I can fry it in slices with onions and serve it with the rice and runner beans instead of the liver.’

  ‘That sounds delicious.’ She put her head out of the door addressing Horace and Manfred.

  ‘How do you like your steak gents?’

  ‘Medium rare,’ they chorused in English.

  Sam turned back to Selma. ‘Please, do me a favour and don’t overcook the meat for me and the guests. We like it a pink in the middle, not cremated.’

  The watered-down soup was a success, eaten as it was with fresh bread from the new brick oven. When Sam cut into her piece of steak, the pink middle horrified Muerte.

  ‘That’s not cooked. You should give it back to the kitchen.’

  Sam raised her eyes to his and fixed him with an inquiring glance.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d be afraid of blood,’ she said, smirking.

  There was a stunned silence from the Lara brothers and Horace looked bemused. Muerte’s face creased with effort as he tried not to laugh but a guffaw escaped him.