by Blake Banner
I pulled up outside the hotel on Via S2 and walked into the gleaming white and blond reception. I had phoned the night before to say I would arrive early, and my executive suite was ready for me. I handed over the keys to have my car parked, and my bag brought up, and was taken to my room by a kid in a uniform. When he’d left, ten bucks richer, I ordered eggs and bacon and a pot of black coffee, stripped and stood under the shower for ten minutes.
I toweled myself dry, and as I was dressing the burner rang and there was a knock on the door. I shouted, “It’s open!” and answered the phone. Njal’s blunt voice said, “You there yet?”
A guy in a white jacket and bowtie wheeled in my eggs and bacon. I pointed out to my balcony and he wheeled the trolley out there and started to set my table for breakfast. To Njal I said, “Yeah, I just arrived. Where are you?”
“Every flight from Montevideo to Brasilia was minimum five hours, some twenty-five hours. They have no airline of their own, can you believe that?”
I went cold. “So where are you?”
“Oh, I arrived six this morning.”
“Six? How?”
I stepped out to the balcony, gave the guy ten bucks and watched him leave while Njal said, “Only way, I had to get an air taxi. The only airline they have is Aeromas, but it’s only air taxis. You choose your time, your own plane. Is very cool. Two and a half hour flight.”
I sighed and sat at the table. “Good. You OK? You rested?”
“Sure. I’m at the place. You talk to your friend yet?”
“I’m about to call him. Stay on your toes. I want to get this done ASAP. If my friend agrees to lunch today I’ll message you saying, ‘lunch’. Then you move in. Once you are in with the girl, and you have the place secured, send me a message saying, ‘I’m home.’ Then I’ll come over, as we planned.”
“OK. I won’t move till I hear from you. What about the money?”
“I’ll collect it from the bank on the way. I’ll call my friend now.”
I hung up and ate hungrily. When I’d finished I sat back, drained a cup of coffee and called the number Cyndi had given me for Rocha. He answered on the fourth ring. His voice was cool, with a hint of unfriendly.
“Aló.”
“Good morning, Mr. Rocha, this is Jason Devries. we have a mutual friend in Cyndi McFarlane. We spoke a couple of days ago.”
“Yes, I remember.”
He waited. He wanted me to ask him for a meeting, so we could define our roles from the start, and he could be in the dominant position of strength. Negotiation one-oh-one. If that was his dying wish, I could grant it. I said, “I know it’s short notice, Mr. Rocha, but I was wondering if you were free for lunch today.”
He sighed, took a moment. “I have a prior engagement, however, as you are a friend of Cyndi’s, if it is important…”
I gave a small laugh. “Well, Mr. Rocha, it is important to us, and it is our intention to make it mutually beneficial. Cyndi certainly thought that you would find our project a matter of interest. However, if she has misjudged the situation for any reason, I would not want to encroach on your time…”
He sighed again. “Not at all, any friend of Cyndi’s is a friend of mine. By all means, let us meet for lunch. Are you familiar with Brasilia?”
I sat back and let him take the lead. Once he was leading, it would be me doing the granting. I said: “No, this is my first time here. What do you suggest?”
“The Aquavit is suitable. It is quiet and we will have privacy to talk.”
“Sounds perfect. How do I get there?”
“It is best if you go under your own steam, so that I am not connected with you at this stage. Take a taxi. Tell him to take you to the Aquavit at the Jardim Botanico. Say one o’clock. You will like it.”
“Good, that sounds just fine. I look forward to it.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Devries.”
He hung up before I could answer. Something told me Mr. Rocha was not going to be as easy to handle as Narciso Terry had been.
I picked up the burner and sent Njal the message, Lunch @ 1. Then I lay down and slept like the dead for three hours.
* * *
A botanical garden in Brazil is not like a botanical garden anywhere else in the world. It’s more like a small country. This one in particular was a vast park fifteen miles across which contained savanna, rainforest rivers and lakes, and every conceivable form of exotic life, both animal and vegetable. It even contained an exclusive restaurant, and by far the most exotic and colorful life forms were to be found in there.
Aquavit was perched on the edge of a three hundred foot lake in a clearing in the middle of one and a half square miles of rainforest contained within the vast botanical garden. It looked like the kind of colonial mansion a nineteenth century tobacco farmer might have had in Indonesia: a single storey A-frame, with highly polished hardwood floors, thick, wooden pillars and bare rafters under a sloping ceiling. The walls were also polished wood, with vast, plate glass windows overlooking the lake and the forest. It was the kind of thing you had to stop and stare at. The Ritz and the Savoy, for all their luxury, could not compete.
I told the head waiter that el Señor Raul Rocha was expecting me and he led me across the spacious dining room to where Rocha was sitting by the window, sipping a martini and looking at the lake, like he wasn’t aware of me approaching.
I’d seen photographs of him and studied them, but in the flesh he was smaller, slighter, with a small, soft beard and moustache that were turning to gray. When he finally looked around at me, his eyes were large, liquid and brown, like he’d borrowed them from Bambi’s mother. He surprised me by smiling and standing, extending his hand to take mine.
“Mr. Devries, it is good of you to meet me here. Please, have a seat, what will you drink?”
I shook his hand. “I’ll join you in a martini.” I turned to the waiter. “Dry, vodka, shaken, not stirred.”
Rocha laughed as we sat. “Like the infamous Mr. Bond. So, I am intrigued, how can the Brazilian Minister for Mines and Energy help a mining engineer from Nevada?”
I looked surprised, smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Any number of ways, I should have thought, Mr. Rocha, but in this particular case, the people I represent have a proposition for you which could be beneficial all ’round.”
He raised both his eyebrows at his glass, like it had been an impertinent glass, and said, “That sounds dangerously like bribery, Mr. Devries.”
I shook my head. “No, not at all. We simply want to be discreet at this stage.”
He looked up and smiled with his doe eyes. “Oh, how disappointing.”
We both laughed and I reassured him. “We are old fashioned businessmen, Mr. Rocha, and we have no intention of getting involved in the niceties of local law. We are more interested in conforming to local tradition and making sure everybody gets a fair share of the profits.”
“Now you are speaking a language I understand. But tell me, a share of profits in what enterprise?” The waiter brought my drink. Rocha said, “It is the practice of this restaurant to harmonize the food with a wine of the chef’s choice. So, for example, the gazpacho with salted codfish fritters will come with a Chilean sauvignon blanc reserve from 2014. I can recommend this very much. The duck confit with fresh corn cream angu comes with a Valpolicella Superiore Tedeschi from 2013. I am not a fan of Italian wine, but this one is very good.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I am familiar with this restaurant, I live near by and it is like my ‘local’. These are my current favourite dishes.”
I nodded at the waiter. “They sound perfect.”
Rocha gestured with his fingers at the waiter to go away and smiled at me with his watery eyes. “You were about to explain.”
I sat back and sipped my martini. It was excellent. As I set it down I smacked my lips. “Last year a report found its way into our hands. One Samuel Magnusson, a geologist from Iceland, and something of an adventurer, had made his way to Brazil, with a small team of pros
pectors, and carried out a number of illegal surveys along the Bolivian border, between Rondônia, Mato Grosso and Mato Grosso do Sul: a stretch of some one thousand four hundred miles.” I laughed. “Obviously he didn’t survey that whole area, but the areas he did survey are within that stretch, as I understand it.”
“As you understand it…”
I gave him my most innocent smile. “I may of course have been misinformed. However, the important point at this stage is that the surveys were not authorized by the Brazilian government. The syndicate who bankrolled Magnusson and his team were, apparently, afraid that a by-the-book application for a license might get bogged down in red tape. This was, of course, in the times of the previous administration.”
“Indeed. So what did these surveys find?”
I bit my lip and turned my glass around a few times for dramatic effect. “If the report is correct, and our experts say there is every reason to believe it is, Magnusson found the biggest deposits of lithium in the world, and then some.” I could tell by the expression on his face that he knew what that meant, but I told him anyway. “At current values, lithium is worth between nine and ten thousand dollars a metric tonne. But that is going to change.”
“You think so? On what grounds?”
“On two very important grounds. First of all, lithium is going to start replacing oil as the main energy source on this planet, at least as far as motorized vehicles are concerned. But with advances in technology progressing as fast as they are, there is no telling how far it will go, or what lithium will be adapted to.” I sat back and studied him a moment. “We are aware, for example, of plans to drive small aircraft with banks of alternating lithium batteries: while one bank runs the motor, the motor charges the second bank. As battery efficiency improves, and charging technology improves, we believe lithium will replace oil across the board. It is conceivable that even houses will be run on lithium batteries.”
I leaned forward to give weight to my next statement. “And second, the reserves in Chile and Australia are running down. They were never vast to begin with, but as demand increases for cell phones and motor vehicles, the drain on those mines increases. Put those two facts together, and Brazil becomes the Saudi Arabia of the future.”
He tried to hide it, but his big, brown, watery eyes were bright. As with Narciso Terry, I had chosen my lies carefully to appeal not just to the greedy individual, but to the long-term aspirations of Omega—or what was left of Omega. If Omicron wanted to lead the resurgence of his organization, cyborgs and lithium would be at the heart of that enterprise. He gazed at the tamed jungle outside and I watched his jaw muscle bunch rhythmically.
“Are you certain about this?” he said at last.
I gave a small shrug. “I wouldn’t be here, and perhaps more to the point, Cyndi would not have given me an introduction to you, if we were not pretty certain.”
He nodded. That made sense to him. “What do you want, and what are you offering in exchange?”
I spread my hands. “What my principals want is very simply a partnership. What we want is to pool resources.” I laughed. “It may not always look that way, but the American continent is driving toward an ever closer integration. Right now we have the technology to exploit the mines, we know precisely where the deposits are, and we have the money and resources to mine them. But we have more than that. We have contacts that are in a position to control the flow of oil onto the international market and drive up the price per barrel, and so make lithium an increasingly attractive option; and…” I wagged my finger at him. “We can incorporate R&D facilities into the mining process so that we can learn how to synthesize the lithium if and when the deposits run dry. We have everything, Mr. Rocha, except the lithium.”
He was quiet for a long time. Eventually he asked me, “Who do you represent?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. If we have the makings of a deal, and you are prepared to work with us, then I can introduce you to my principal. He is here, in Brasilia, at the moment. But we need something pretty concrete from you.”
The waiter came with our gazpacho and the wine. He left and we ate in silence for a while. When his bowl was almost empty, Rocha sat back and dabbed his lips.
“Something concrete, like what?”
I echoed his movement and leaned back in my chair, wiping my mouth.
“The people I represent have the same concerns that Magnusson’s people had. Even though the administration in Brazil has changed, it is easy for a project like this to get bogged down, and for vested interests to start competing. You have a lot of oil in Brazil, and there are people who are still making a lot of money from that oil. They won’t be happy to see lithium mines being exploited. So what we want from you, personally, is the authorization to go ahead with the preliminary stages of the mining, without interference, and with a large degree of discretion and autonomy.”
“You want me to authorize it and keep it secret until it is a fete accompli.”
“Yes. Can you do it?”
He nodded. “Yes. I can do that. How much will you pay me?”
“The precise details are for your conversation with my principal. However, I can tell you that we are prepared to make an initial payment of ten million dollars, and as I understand it, a large share allocation in the company to be formed.”
He sipped his wine. He was trying hard to hide it, but there was real excitement in his eyes. I had just told him, in so many words, that not only did Omega have a real chance of reestablishing itself, but that, with a large share allocation in the company, he had a shot at becoming Alpha in the New Order.
But Raul Rocha was nothing if not in control. He set down his glass and gave a smile that said what he was hearing was all words.
“It all sounds very interesting, Mr. Devries, but, with all due respect, you are just the messenger. I need to talk to your boss.”
I chuckled. “Not my boss, Mr. Rocha, my principal. Right now, you talk to me and you are talking to him. I can arrange a meeting at very short notice. He is keen to meet you. All I need from you at this stage is a firm, oral commitment that you will fast track the project.”
He studied my face for a long moment. A waiter came and took away our dishes and the wine. A second brought the duck and the Valpolicella. When he had gone, Rocha shook his head and said, “No.”
THIRTEEN
I went cold inside. I sat with my glass halfway to my mouth, staring at him. It was not the reaction I had expected, and if he grew difficult, the repercussions could be disastrous. A delay in the hit would give time for Narciso’s body to be found and identified. News of his death would spread through Latin America—and Omega—like wildfire. That, plus my unorthodox approach, could alert Rocha and he would in turn alert the Mexican cabal. If they decided to retaliate, there was no telling where this could end.
I set down my glass, thinking fast about how I could kill him and dump him in the lake on the way home. We would then have to cross six countries plus most of Brazil to get to Mexico, by which time Gonzalez, Zapata and Ochoa would be on red alert. I said: “No?”
“With the greatest respect, Mr. Devries, I cannot make a firm commitment to a man who is, in the end, no more than a messenger. Albeit,” he smiled ingratiatingly, “a most eminent messenger, but still a messenger, nonetheless. I will give my firm commitment to your principal, when I have met him and when I have spoken to him. May I know his name?”
I managed to look irritated instead of relieved. I cut at my duck as though trying to repress my anger, stuffed a piece in my mouth and chewed, watching him. After I had sipped my wine, I said, “I come to you with a personal introduction from a U.S. senator—a senator who will, incidentally, be a part of this deal. You are aware of her green credentials.”
He closed his eyes and nodded. I went on.
“This is a very delicate affair, very sensitive. We are simply trying to protect our interests, so my principal merely asks that, before he reveals his identity to you, he can be s
ure of a degree of commitment on your part.” I gave a smile that clearly masked displeasure. “It is not a lot to ask.”
In his mind, he knew that he held the reins. He controlled the lithium, and we had come to him. He was in control. And I was happy for him to feel that way, because as long as I resisted his meeting with my principal, that was exactly what he was going to push for. He smiled regretfully.
“Clearly, I will not pretend that I am not interested. That would be absurd. And of course, Cyndi’s credentials are unimpeachable, as are yours, I am sure. I mean no disrespect. But seriously, to proceed, I must talk to your principal. The most I can say to you, in these circumstances, is that, prima facie, I am interested in what you are telling me. But please, let me talk to somebody in charge.”
We ate in silence for a while. After a couple of minutes I nodded and pointed at the duck with my knife. “This is really very good.”
He raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. After another couple of minutes, when I had almost finished my food, I sipped my wine, wiped my moth and said, “Will you excuse me a moment? I’m going to make a call.” I hesitated before I stood. “Can I tell him at least that, as you say, prima facie, that you are interested?”
He frowned and nodded elaborately. “Indeed, very interested.”
I smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
I rose from the table and walked out onto the veranda. I stood where he could see me, but far away enough for it to seem like I was looking for privacy. I called Njal and began to pace, like I was nervous. Njal answered, I said: “Don’t talk for a bit, just listen. Here’s the situation. Rocha is very interested in meeting you, but he is refusing to give a firm commitment to me, because he feels I am merely a messenger. He says he will only give a commitment after he has spoken to you in person, and knows who you are. I have stressed to him that Cyndi herself gave me the introduction and that I am not merely a messenger. Even so he insists, he wants to meet you in person to discuss the deal, or there is no deal.”