Sugar

by L. Todd Wood

  “Yes, I can provide that.”

  “This is obviously going to make some powerful people very angry. I do not know if some of them are in my own government. I cannot trust my own government at this time. What I need also from you is a new identity and protection indefinitely. Can that be provided?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is all.”

  “You will have your information shortly. The identification documents will take some time. I would estimate five days. As far as protection, let me get back to you on what we can provide. Does that suffice?”

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “Please provide me a secure email address and call me in twenty-four hours. And be careful. I am sure you are being followed.”

  “Not for long, I hope to disappear.”

  “Yes, it will be arranged.”

  Connor gave her an alternate email address and hung up the phone. Making progress, he thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Connor met the contact for the drop at a grocery store in the middle of Salvador. He had received a call with instructions that morning. The documents were located as specified behind a rack of laundry detergent. Nonchalantly, he walked through the store and found the designated shelf with no difficulty. He slid the package into his sport coat under his arm and went back to the taxi waiting outside. The traffic was terrible in the late afternoon, as everyone was coming home from work. Connor resigned himself to sitting in the back of the vehicle for a while and decided to look at the documents. He was now Moshe Goldberg, citizen of Israel. Works for me I guess. He memorized all the data as instructed, sat back in the taxi, and closed his eyes. It felt good to rest. His body was still recovering. I almost feel like myself again.

  It was difficult to sleep with the noise of the street around him as the taxi made its way through the middle of Salvador, heading to Connor’s hotel. The street parties were beginning. Soon Connor realized to his dismay that the gatherings were not street parties but the beginning of a demonstration. The participants pulled out signs protesting foreign energy companies and wore skeleton masks to protest the contamination. He saw lots of communist and socialist symbols on the placards held high. The demonstrators chanted in a louder and louder tone with more and more people involved. The road ahead looked even further crowded with people and was completely blocked. This is getting dangerous. We can’t go this way. We’ve got to get out of here. He lifted his head and at that moment, Connor made a decision.

  “Do you want to earn some big money?” he asked the taxi driver.

  “Si!” the man replied eagerly.

  Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with an address written on it. He handed it to the driver. “Take me there.”

  The driver looked at the paper and his eyes lit up with surprise. “That is far away from here, sir! It will cost many reais. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am sure. How long will it take to get there?”

  “About six hours at least. It’s well north of the city towards the mountains.”

  “Start driving.” Connor handed the man a wad of cash, picked up his phone. and called Peter. “Hi, it’s me. I’m leaving. I will call you in a couple days and let you know where I am, and we can talk further, okay? And can you check out of the hotel for me? Great, ciao.”

  Connor had planned ahead. He had brought his small bag with him and now once again had all of his worldly possessions on his person. He picked up the package he had retrieved from the Mossad at the store. He stuffed the money that was included into his jacket pocket and then the travel documents as well. He pulled out the remaining item in the package and made sure the chamber was empty. The additional clips he put in his pocket. He placed the Beretta M9 sidearm in his belt behind his back under his coat. He lay his head back and again closed his eyes. Time to see Natasha.

  Sergei was grateful for the information that came from the sultan through his superiors. The boyfriend was here. Too bad I can’t find him. He could not locate Murray quickly, but his buddy was very careless in his dealings with the Brazilian scientific authorities on the contamination issue. It was not hard to find him. Once he located Peter, he followed him, followed his every move. He will lead me to Murray, who will lead me to the girl. This is going to be fun. Like taking candy from a baby.

  Currently Quinn was in the café at his hotel. He had just arrived at the bar after being out in the field all day at several drilling sites, his shirt soaked with sweat from the Brazilian sun. Peter ordered a caipirinha from the bartender and watched as his favorite Brazilian drink was made. The drink originated as a medicinal therapy for the common cold and contained cachaca, a hard liquor derived from sugar cane juice, honey, garlic, and lime. The honey and garlic were dropped over the years with sugar added to reduce the acidity of the lime. It took a few minutes for the bartender to finish his task. Peter pulled out his laptop and began to type furiously, making notes from his day’s work. Sergei walked in and sat at the other end of the bar, not making eye contact at all with Peter. Sergei had a hunch. Peter’s cell phone was lying on the bar next to his MacBook.

  Several drinks later, Peter got up to use the facilities as Sergei expected. The Russian waited patiently. Once Peter was inside the bathroom, Sergei walked quickly to where Peter had been sitting and picked up the cell phone. He dialed his own number. He could feel his phone buzz in his pocket. He ended the call and then deleted the dialed number from Peter’s phone and set it back on the bar.

  When Peter returned from the bathroom, Sergei was sitting at his same spot, playing with his phone. He stored the number from Peter’s phone in his contacts and made his way out to his car. The vehicle was in the parking lot outside the hotel. Inside, Sergei turned on some very sophisticated tracking equipment and entered Peter’s phone number to monitor any calls. Now all he had to do was wait.

  Connor missed her. He hoped to see her soon. It was as if his connection to life itself existed in her wherever she was, somewhere up in the hills. Connor’s head banged against the glass as the taxi hit a pothole; they were becoming more numerous. He asked the driver how long and he replied, “Soon.” The excitement grew. He had not realized how much she meant to him. She was his other half. He knew that now. He wished he could just snap his fingers and be there! The time dragged on, and the road grew bumpier as they droned up into the base of the mountains.

  Sometimes in life, you meet someone who really scratches your soul. Connor had been with his wife, he had been with Kate, but Natasha was someone else. She was the woman who healed him. The woman who made him smell the roses. Soon. Soon.

  The road went on for what seemed like hours then finally opened up to a town of some sort. It was like a glimpse of the past. He felt like he had traveled back in time two hundred years. He actually saw an ox cart. The driver spoke, seemingly out of nowhere. Connor had actually forgotten about him for a while because the man had been so quiet. “The address is on the other side of town, up in the hills about ten miles. We are about a half hour away.”

  That news startled Connor. He was here. This was it. Time began to move slowly. He vaguely remembered the car climbing the hillside and stopping on a bluff with a view of the cane fields in the distance. He turned to look at them and notice their beauty. He wondered if Natasha had taken solace in watching the fields while they were apart. Connor paid the driver along with a large tip and told him to leave then he walked up the stone staircase to the home perched on the side of the hill. It was an old dwelling with expansive porches on the upper and lower levels. The construction was some type of masonry, and the roof was terracotta; mosaics were tiled into the exterior walls. It seemed a pleasant place. I could stay here for a while.

  Connor made his way to the door and opened it. “Natashichka?” No answer. He continued walking through the home; his shoes clicked on the stone floors, and the sound vibrated throughout the house. No one. He walked out the back door and looked around. Again, there was nothing, nothing but
a well-maintained courtyard. There was evidence of recent cooking in the kitchen. He walked up the stairs and opened the bedroom door. There she was, asleep in the bed. He removed his shoes, lifted the covers, and lay beside her, holding her. He reveled in her smell, her warmth.

  She opened her eyes. “Moi loobueme!” (my love)

  Reshma landed in Brazil with her team. They were not traveling together. They went through immigration, customs, and took taxis to their hotels separately over the day. Their hotels were even in different locations but all within walking distance of each other. The following day each operative met with an in-country Mossad representative and retrieved their weapons and other equipment. Then they went back to their rooms and waited for instructions.

  Connor held Natasha for a long time. He smelled her hair and felt her body next to his. They slept in each other’s arms, hardly moving. Connor felt the stress melt away as he fell into a deep sleep. His body was healing itself as well as his mind. Later in the evening, they stirred. She turned to look at him. Connor pulled her mouth to his then rolled on top of her. They made love for what seemed like forever, over and over again, only rising to grab some fruit to eat in bed. Soon the sunlight was peeking through the windows the next morning.

  Connor spoke to her as he held her. “You know, I could have been someone dangerous. You let me walk up on you sleeping.”

  “Nyet, I didn’t,” she responded. “I saw you get out of the taxi and walk towards the house. I just pretended I was asleep.”

  “Ha, you tricked me, but I‘m glad you did.”

  “Besides, I always have this close by.” She reached under her pillow and pulled out a Makarov pistol, standard Russian issue. “I learned how to use this a long time ago. I have more weapons under the bed.”

  Connor’s eyes widened. “That’s my girl. Remind me not to piss you off! So why don’t you tell me what happened? Why did you leave?”

  “I received a call while you were sleeping. It was a Russian man. He said, ‘We know where you are, Natalya.’ I panicked, grabbed my things, and snuck out of the building. I didn’t want to involve you, as you were sick. So tell me, how is the cancer?”

  “I’m done with the treatments. I have to wait and see how the tests come out, but I’m hopeful!”

  “You’re going to be fine my love.”

  “You scared me you know.”

  “I was scared myself. I still am. What are we going to do?”

  Connor’s phone rang. “Yes?”

  “Connor, it’s Peter. Look I’ve got confirmed proof this contamination did not occur from the drilling operations in Bahia. This is a definite plant. I have no idea how, but someone put these chemicals in the water on purpose. “

  “Interesting. Funny how that happens.”

  “I know we’ve talked about it, but I really want to do something about this. The word needs to get out to the world. There is too much riding on allowing this technology to proceed. I’ve made it my life’s work. There are demonstrations already forming here in Salvador, instigated by who knows. Anyway, where are you?”

  “Are you in a secure location?” Connor knew they both had prepaid phones, but he didn’t want anyone listening to their call accidentally. No one could have known what numbers they were using.

  “Yeah.”

  Connor gave him the address. “Come on up, I want you to meet someone.”

  “Hmmm, I could tell you sounded much happier and free of stress.”

  “Stop it and come on up, okay?”

  Sergei was in his hotel room, sleeping off the vodka from the night before, when the tracking equipment next to the bed buzzed with an alarm. He had brought the equipment in from the car. The two whores in bed he had picked up the night before barely stirred, snoring loudly. It was a king-size bed, and luckily there was room for the three of them. There was cocaine and other drugs on the table next to the bed. He stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself. Remembering the night’s activities, he trod carefully, as there was broken glass on the floor. One of the girls had been drinking and broke a bottle coming out of the shower. She had cut her hand, and there was blood on the mirror as well as the sheets. He had vague memories of some Brazilian chant she kept repeating as the orgy progressed. I guess the maid will be wondering what happened here! he laughed to himself.

  After doing his business, he returned to the bed then put on his boxers and the headphones from the set. The alarm had informed him that a call was recorded. There were plenty of these over the last few days, as Peter Quinn had been in contact with many local officials and corporate entities regarding the contamination issue. Sergei was not hopeful. Maybe this is a wild goose chase. He switched on the recording. He listened for a few moments and then heard the words he was waiting for. Connor gave Peter the address. “Come on up, I want you to meet someone.” Sergei smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Connor and Natasha were enjoying a beautiful evening sunset over the cane fields when the car drove up carrying Peter. Nervously, Connor searched the road down the hill for anyone following him. There was no one to be seen and he was relieved. The road to the house was mostly gravel, and there was a loose, metal grate that banged when driven over, so he would hear a vehicle approaching anyway. He walked down to meet his friend.

  Peter took several bags out of the trunk, paid the driver, and walked up to the porch on the lower floor, struggling with multiple suitcases. He dropped them to the floor with a loud thud. He seemed drained after the long journey.

  “Welcome to paradise, my friend,” said Connor sarcastically as he shook Peter’s hand. “And this is my goddess I’ve told you about.” He motioned towards Natasha.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Natasha as she kissed Peter’s cheek.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding. You’re gonna need an army to keep the guys away, Connor.”

  “Ha! Can I get you a drink?”

  “Yes, you may indeed. Whiskey please.”

  “What’s in the suitcases? Seems like an awful lot to carry around.”

  “A surprise. We’re going to make a movie.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes, we’re going to call it The Sultan’s Mischief.”

  “Ah, I see what you are planning. Well we’re in.” He handed the drink to Peter, and the three of them clinked glasses. “Salute!”

  Peter unpacked the largest bag and brought out portable video equipment as well as a tripod and his laptop to edit the footage. They set up a makeshift studio for an interview in the upstairs bedroom with the backdrop of the sugar fields. As the sun was setting, they decided to wait until morning for better light to make the video. The only thing left to do in the evening was cook a nice feast and enjoy each other’s company.

  Beef was abundant in Brazil, and Natasha pulled out some thick steaks she had picked up in the village; Connor fired up the outdoor grill. The wine flowed. Natasha enjoyed getting to know one of Connor’s old friends. The conversation was lighthearted, with Peter and Connor reminiscing about old times, but then turned towards the sultan and the stress they had all recently experienced.

  “Do you think you can really make a difference?” asked Natasha.

  “Yes, I really do. Sometimes it just takes shining a light on something and then people see it. I think this is the case here. Once people see the truth and a different way of looking at things, I think some will change their minds. We can at least make a dent in public opinion.” Peter then changed subjects. "Why did you leave New York?” he asked Natasha.

  “They found me.”

  “Do you think they are still after you?”

  “Most definitely,” replied Connor. “We will not be safe until the Russian presidency changes. If it changes.”

  “We have a new tsar,” added Natasha. “I have hurt his feelings. Yes, he is after me. Therefore, we must hide indefinitely. He and his thugs will not rest until they find me and probably kill me.”

  “Well, I guess I will be with you as well after th
is video is released,” replied Peter. “Maybe we can just all live here forever, like some kind of commune or something. You know, share the women and all that.”

  Connor laughed. “Dream on, my friend.” He then motioned to a bubble-wrapped envelope on the table. “Peter, I have something for you.” Connor reached in the package from the Mossad and handed him a flash drive. “I received this from a reputable source. Let’s just say a really good source. It happens to be records of money transfers from offshore accounts in the Middle East to the accounts of environmental groups in the United States. There are also examples of permit delays and other delaying tactics used against the fracking industry. It’s a treasure trove of evidence, all verified. This should help with the effort.”

  “Fantastic, I won’t ask where you got it. We will include the information as an appendix and attach it to the video. That should add a great deal of credibility.”

  “So how is it in Salvador? You mentioned something about demonstrations.”

  “They are spontaneously erupting around the city. You know this was their water supply. I’d be pissed too. That’s why I want to get this out as soon as possible. We can actually change the outcome here if we can get enough people to view the evidence.”

  “What are they demonstrating for? What do they want to happen?”

  “They want to extract pain from whoever’s at fault for this. The contamination I mean. They believe it’s the oil companies and their fracking. I don’t. They also are pushing for ending fossil fuels here in Brazil. That’s never going to happen, but you know Brazil already has fifty percent ethanol in their gasoline. Their cars can run on either gasoline or ethanol. Look outside the window. Do you see all the sugar cane? What do you think that is for, candy? No, it’s for fuel for their cars. After all, what is sugar? It is energy made by plants from the sun. It’s a carbohydrate versus a hydrocarbon. The same elements are involved, but there are costs with that as well. Food prices skyrocket, there is environmental damage, et cetera, et cetera. There are pros and cons with any type of energy. I believe the abundant, cheap shale oil and gas can do wonders for humanity over the next several hundred years if we extract it safely and wisely.”