Pipeline (21 page)

“We look forward to the coming days of discussion,” he continued. “The committee’s business is concluded for today.”

Chairman Luis Matta’s eyes felt immediate relief as the television cameras were turned off. Six and a half hours under the pelting onslaught of the lights’ high-voltage illumination was exhausting. He rubbed his eyes slowly and turned around to talk to his staff, busily picking up papers and reorganizing their files.

He looked for Susana. She would certainly have a couple of press interviews lined up.

As he slowly got up from his chair, he heard a woman’s voice calling from the audience below.

“Mr. Chairman.”

He didn’t have to turn around. He knew. The voice spoke in English. Every instinct in his body told him to keep moving forward, but he was unable to help himself. His natural curiosity got the better of him. Matta slowly turned, his face wrinkled in a grimace. He half expected something to be flying his way.

He was pleased to find Blaise Ryan looking at him, both arms restrained by officers of the Peruvian Judicial Police. They were not about to let something happen a second time. He looked down placidly, content in the knowledge that he was safe from flying objects and even happier to see her manhandled in a police half nelson.

“Mr. Chairman, please. I
must
talk to you.” The fact that she was held by two burly police officers didn’t reduce this woman’s jolting attractiveness one bit. She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense. But the stunning eyes set deep in high cheekbones, the red hair in a ponytail, the full, rounded lips combined together in an irresistible package.

Luis Matta, however, was able to resist very nicely.

Without answering, Matta turned around and started heading out the senators’ entrance.

“I have information, sir.”

Matta kept walking.

“Mr. Chairman, I need to tell you something personal. In confidence,” the voice pleaded.

Matta stopped and turned back toward her. This was too good. She was going to apologize for her misdeeds. He immediately wondered which news outlet would carry the best coverage of Blaise Ryan’s public apology.

“You have fifteen seconds, Ms. Ryan.”

“It’s private, sir.”

“Now you have ten seconds.” Matta counted. He noticed that, from out of nowhere, Susana was suddenly next to him. Looking at his press secretary, he smiled and patted her on the back. Clearly, Susana had thought that the exchange between her boss and Blaise
Ryan was enticing enough to drop her busy spinning of the attendant journalists.

“Clearly, we don’t agree on much,” started Blaise Ryan. “I don’t trust you and you certainly don’t trust me. I understand that. Yet sometimes even people who consider each other a menace are forced into a common cause against an even worse danger. This may be our case. I must talk to you—in person, privately.”

This miserable shit of a woman was now demanding a meeting with him. Did she not remember what she had done? How dare she talk to him without even a hint of an apology? Luis Matta considered himself a modern, rational man. But this went over the line. Courtesies—particularly from people who have given offense—were one of life’s requirements.

He walked away. Fast. Fuming.

Susana caught up to him, her lungs gasping for air.

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you going to answer?”

“Nothing.”

They were through the senators’ entrance and heading toward the building’s main hallway. He kept moving, his strides getting longer and her steps now moving in a little jog to keep up. Once he was out in the public hall, there would be hordes of journalists clamoring for an interview. Their conversation would be over. She moved in front of him to block his exit.

“It’s a mistake. You should see her.”

Luis Matta stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes bored straight into Susana Castillo’s dark pupils.

“Let’s get this clear. I’m the elected official. You work for me. You and I have a very good relationship, but you need to know when to stop. There are lines you should not cross. Start learning where these lines are because you have just crossed one.”

Susana Castillo sucked in air. He had never spoken to her in that
tone, at that volume. Blaise Ryan was a subject that was not open to advice. She should drop it. She couldn’t win every battle.

But, then again, that was not what she was paid to do. Her job was to be the last person standing to tell him the truth. Every politician needed at least one such person. Some political leaders allowed their spouses to fill the role—but Alicia had no interest in politics. So the occupation fell to Matta’s press secretary.

“Then fire me, sir.” Susana’s usually informal language had suddenly reverted to high formality. The words, however, had punches that landed with weight.

“But until you do that, it’s my responsibility to give you another point of view. You need that, Senator. Everyone talks about you as a presidential candidate; the press clucks around you as the country’s new political blood. As the adulation increases, you will need me. More than you can imagine. And if it’s not me, you need somebody like me to keep your feet firmly on the earth, to remind you that you are not infallible, to ground you.”

She stared at him, her dark eyes flashing. Once Susana Castillo engaged, there was no backing her down.

“So, Senator Matta, you do not have to take my recommendations. Nor do you have to act on every bit of advice I give you. But you do have to listen. You have to consider my counsel. That’s the unwritten contract between political leader and senior advisor. When you have decided that you no longer want to hear me out, just let me know. That will be the moment I’ll leave to take care of my sick mother.”

She saw his shoulders relax a bit. His eyes moved back down from their upward stare to meet hers. It was clear that his remarks had hit home. But unlike most people in her position, she understood that she no longer needed to press the point. She didn’t need a reaffirmation of her importance in his political pecking order. She had made her point. Now she was ready to go back to the substance of their disagreement.

“Luis, there is no reason for this woman to seek you out privately. You are enemies. Antagonists. She has every reason to keep that hatred alive and public—it’s good publicity for her and her cause. Yet she wants to tell you something in private.

“You should listen. If you don’t want to be alone with her, I will set it up and will accompany you.”

Luis Matta’s eyes narrowed. Seconds ticked by. In six years, she had seen this only once before. Utter silence enveloped them as his mind broke a big decision up into small, digestible pieces.

Suddenly Matta’s eyes came back to life. He pointed to the door and the hallway beyond.

“I don’t want to do ten separate interviews with the hordes on the other side of this door. Get them together and organized for one single press conference. Tell the print journalists that you want to give the cameras a couple of minutes to set up so there is no pushing and shoving. I’ll get my thoughts in order and come out in a moment.”

Susana nodded. She turned around and reached for the knob to the hallway door. The masses of press would be just beyond.

“And…”

Matta paused for a second, just to torture her.

“Set up a time to see Blaise Ryan this afternoon in my office.”

LIMA
SEPTEMBER 1, 6:30 P.M.
SENATOR MATTA’S OFFICE

Two hours later, Susana knocked quietly on Luis Matta’s door and walked into his office with tentative steps. Even the ever-tough Susana Castillo was worried about this meeting.

She was surprised that the senator was nowhere to be seen until she noticed the closed door to his private bathroom. She walked over to the door.

“Luis, she is here.” Susana felt silly talking in a whisper to a dark brown wooden door.

Susana Castillo heard the running of the bathroom faucet and concluded he had not heard her over the din of the water. She called out again.

“Luis, Blaise Ryan is—”

“I heard you the first time,” snapped the angry voice from inside.

Thirty seconds later, Luis Matta exited the bathroom. The senator always took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie when he was not in official meetings. But as he walked into his office, Susana immediately noticed that Matta had on his dark suit. His tie was knotted tight under the collar of his white shirt.

He intended this meeting to be ice cold.

Without even a glance, Matta walked straight past her. The senator sat down behind his desk and swiveled his chair in her direction. He stared hard at his press secretary, raising a pointed finger in her direction.

“This is on your head, Susana. I shouldn’t have agreed to it. God help you if this goes wrong.”

She was about to answer but thought better of it. The warning launched in her direction had actually been an indirect instruction to bring Blaise Ryan into the office. Susana swiveled open the outer office’s door to allow their guest to enter. The tension could have been cut with a knife.

Dressed in the same white, square-collared Nehru tunic that she had worn earlier in the day, Blaise Ryan walked slowly across the office’s foyer, toward the large desk. Susana tried desperately to read the attractive woman’s body language. Ryan’s demeanor was serious. She didn’t smile. Her step was purposeful but her arms were close to her sides; there was no self-assured swagger. Only the gray eyes, set deep in the finely chiseled face, radiated a hot intensity.

She stopped in front of Matta’s desk.

“Thank you for seeing me, Senator.” Matta didn’t answer. No response. All she got was a dark stare.

“I have to talk to you about something confidential,” she started, glancing in Susana’s direction.

After another thirty seconds of deafening silence, Matta answered slowly.

“If the insinuation was meant to ask Ms. Castillo to leave, that will not happen. She is going to stay.”

Blaise nodded. Silence again enveloped the office.

Susana walked forward, to the desk. If Matta was not going to offer Blaise Ryan a chair, she would. It was ridiculous to leave this woman standing. Susana sat down on one of the two chairs from across the dark desk and stretched out her arm, signaling for Blaise to take the other.

“I’m here to talk to you about Humboldt, Senator Matta,” Ryan said as she took the seat.

“Why else would you be here?” The senator’s fast answer was caustic and said roughly.

“Look, Senator, I know it must have taken considerable effort for you to agree to see me. You can also imagine that asking for this meeting was no easy decision on my part. I still believe Humboldt is a profound mistake; you are facilitating a crime against the planet.”

“Yes, that’s easy for you to say dressed in the latest Beverly Hills fashions,” Matta spat out. “But if you would swivel that red head of yours to the window, you would see a lot of desperate people outside on the square—poor people. They are the ones I’m paid to think about. And the money my country will earn from Humboldt will help provide education, health, and a fighting chance for the poor of my country.”

Matta’s dark eyes bored into hers. “But I presume all that is of little importance if you are a wealthy American with a god-given mission to save the planet.”

Blaise drew in a breath; her left fist clenched. She was mustering every iota of patience in her body.

“Senator, for what it’s worth, you should know that I regret what
I did to you eighteen months ago. It was cheap drama. And frankly, it did my cause a lot of damage. Personalizing the fight against Humboldt was a mistake. I still disagree vehemently with what you are doing, but I don’t impugn your motives. Nobody disputes that you have Peru’s best interests at heart.

“You’re doing the wrong thing for the right reason,” Blaise concluded, allowing a small smile at that clever turn of phrase.

Susana knew Matta well. Only she could recognize the small signs of relaxation in the drop of his eyebrow. Outwardly though, his only answer was stony silence; the senator did not want this American woman to feel any diminution of his wrath.

“Senator.” Blaise Ryan crossed her legs, her tone one of sad resignation. “My credibility with you is not high; I know that. But believe it or not, I’m here because I believe you’re an honest man. And even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I know you will do the right thing with the information I’m about to give you. You need to hear what I have to say.”

Susana leaned forward, straining not to lose a single word. This wasn’t at all what she expected. Ryan sounded ominous, dark. She glanced toward her boss. He too was now leaning forward, arms folded on the desk. Like most politicians, Luis Matta was an inquisitive man. And now, his curiosity had taken over.

“I’m worried, sir, that one of your bidders is not who you think they are. I’m talking specifically about Anfang Energie, Senator. They are no longer a German company. Earlier this year, they were purchased in secret by Volga Gaz of Russia.”

“What?” Matta’s chair shot backward. “Is this your new tactic? You want to gum up my committee’s work by soiling the reputation of one of our bidders? It won’t work, Ms. Ryan. We won’t delay because of your games.”

Even Susana had had enough. She stood up and grimly stared down at the American woman in their office.

“That’s enough, Ms. Ryan. Please leave this office.”

“Please,” Blaise Ryan’s voice was plaintive. “Please hear me out. I
imagined that you would think this is just a ruse. It isn’t; I promise. Just listen to what I have to say.”

She looked from one to the other. Her face was lined with worry.

“Please,” Blaise repeated.

Susana Castillo wasn’t sure what to do, sit or stand. On the one hand, nothing about this woman was trustworthy. On the other hand, nobody could put on such a performance. Blaise Ryan wasn’t acting.

In the end, Senator Luis Matta resolved Susana’s doubts.

“Sit down, Susana. Ms. Ryan, you have five minutes.”

“Thank you.” Blaise sighed with relief. She launched right in, worried that he might change his mind.