Stained River (26 page)

This was his week for the
2 to 6 am guard, the one he hated most. He sat motionless before the fire in an obscure part of the compound, wishing time would move more quickly. The night held myriad ways to spook him. Flames danced into haunting images, the high-pitched cry of a jaguar unnerved him, the rustle of leaves and branches made him think someone was creeping up from behind. Despite his fears, he couldn't overcome the urge to sleep after a ten hour work day.

It was four o'clock, dawn a little more than an hour away. The
forest quieted. What sounds remained were almost soothing. Julio Martinez fell asleep; rifle cradled in his arms and dreamed he was home. While he slept, there was activity near the remote northeast corner of the compound where the forest came closest to cleared land. From Teman-e's observation, it was the natural place to breach the loosely secured perimeter. The men took turns digging with their hands until there was a hole large enough to crawl under the barbed wire.

Teman-e
was first inside. He watched as each man followed, quietly awaiting his signal. The attack would be short, violent, and bloody; each would throw himself into the fray. At Connery’s request, people in the largest building would be spared. He would honor it. Connery sensed that his exit from the Amazon  might be aided by people who had found their way in and would know their way out. Unknowingly, he had spared Lateri's life.

When the signal came, they rose as one, running swiftly across the compound, making no sound until almost upon the guard posts. Then
the cry of battle came. Like nothing the guards ever heard. Connery followed close behind. The attacking tribesmen were more than ready to deal death and destruction to those who desecrated their land with poisons.

Martinez
was jolted awake by the arrow entering his throat. It severed his jugular. Wide eyed, he fell, gurgling and spitting blood. The other guards threw their rifles away, ran toward the compound and were overtaken at the gate. One, however, got off several quick shots. Two tribesmen fell. A scene of savagery followed. Teman-e leaped and caught the guard full force, knocking the rifle from his hands before he could fire again. Maranza, the gold counter, was chased from his quarters, begging to be spared. Two warriors picked him up and threw him into one of the night fires. He ran, aflame, into the darkness.

It was over in minutes. All of the out buildings, with the exception of two, were on fire, illuminating surrounding trees, throwing sparks high into the night sky.  The last building taken was De Santana's. The door caved under pressure and tribesmen burst into his room. A cowering De Santana cringed, holding his hands around his ears. Tears and snot covered his face as he pleaded for his life. This was to be his end.
Payback for knowing too much or for the failure of Tapejo II, he didn’t know which. It didn’t matter, there was nowhere to hide. At any moment, he would feel a spear shoved in his ribs or maybe worse, they would torture him unmercifully.

Yanked to his feet, he was sure
who was behind the attack, and this man was sent to do the job.

“Don't kill me! Please! I never said a word. I never will! I did as Castelo Branco wanted. No one knows, I
swear!”

Connery’s ears perked.
Did I hear right?
That guy in Brasilia. What was he into…ore mining? Could it be the same person?
He brought the torch closer to De Santana's face, studied him carefully, then searched the room. In a corner, was a desk covered with scattered papers, coffee cups and a half-eaten sandwich. He picked up several papers and held them to the light. All had another familiar name printed at the top.

Companhia do Azevedo Limitada

On the wall above the desk was a photo of two men.
Connery looked at the picture carefully, then looked again. The one in the middle, heavy set, dark complexion, the same stare. He couldn't believe what he saw.
It’s him!
Castelo Branco, the man who promised to invest millions in Hawthorne, the one responsible for this nightmare, was some kind of a crime boss.
I was lured to Brasilia on a pretense, but why?
Something told him that if he had made it there, and hadn't done what was required, he'd be turned into another puppet, like this blubbering mess before him. He thought back to his initial elation after the New York meeting, then the skepticism that almost made him ditch the whole thing and go back. Ironically, if it all played out to whatever Castelo Branco had in mind, he may not be alive now. The more he thought, the more enraged he became.
A year of my life! For what?

Despite his anger, he
saw an opportunity. If it worked out, it might get him closer to home, or at least closer to civilization. De Santana was scared and obviously had mistaken him for someone else.
He thinks I’ve been sent here to kill him. He’s got answers. It should be easy to squeeze him further
and see what happens.
He turned toward the man before him
.

“Your boss is unhappy; says you've been shooting off your mouth.”

“No! No! I haven't! He told me to do it. If I refused, he would have me killed!”

“Refused to do what?”

A look of surprise shot across De Santana’s face; like he had said too much and wished he could retract it. But it was too late.

“Reyes
, the senator. You know about it.”

Connery never heard of a Senator Reyes.
Was he murdered? How was Castelo Branco involved?

“I know about it? The question is, who else knows
? Because you have a big mouth.”

“No one else
, senhor. I swear!”

“He thinks you botched the job. Worse, you
do
have a big mouth.”

“I’m telling you! I set it up too good. Someone else took the blame. They could never trace it back to him.”

“Who did you blame it on?”

“A
lazy Indian, and he's dead. The police are satisfied, Estevo’s satisfied. I thought everyone was satisfied.”

T
he tribesmen were getting impatient. They understood nothing of the conversation, their blood was up and they wanted to get on with it. Connery couldn’t hold them much longer.

A noise came from the back of the building.
Someone else had survived the attack but would be dealt with quickly. Teman-e sent four tribesmen.  They attempted to break the door down but with no success. It wouldn’t give. They told Teman-e they were unable to get to whoever was inside.

Connery heard the exchange and asked De Santana:

“Who's in the room?”

“
A girl. One I keep for myself.”

“Give me the key. And be quick!”

De Santana opened the top drawer, took out a key and gave it to Connery. From inside, he heard a female voice, crying loudly. Connery unlocked the door and pushed it open. Staring at him with pleading eyes, a girl with a swollen face, blackened eyes.

“Who are you?”

She reached for his hand. Gently, he picked her up.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

The night of the attack, Lateri survived another assault by De Santana. When it had ended, she heard the door slam, the lock click, ensuring her confinement in darkness for most of the next day. With luck, she might see daylight for an hour, two at the most. That's when she was fed, like a caged animal. Sometimes the rice had fish, always, it had worms. Increasingly, she refused to eat anything.

He was breaking her and she was losing the will to survive. How many more times could she take his vileness before giving up entirely? That would please him because he couldn't possess her the way he wanted.

She lay awake, unable to sleep, head throbbing from the beating. Then gunshots! It couldn't be him, he didn't target practice at night. She heard yelling, shrieking, screaming, more shots. Something very different was happening. It gave her hope. They had come, as she knew they eventually would. Her heart pounded. She held her ear to the wall, trying to hear every sound.

Except for a few horrifying cries, the noise slackened before she heard a door being smashed in, men running to De Santana's room. She heard a man speaking in a loud voice
, a language she heard only a few times in her life. He did all of the talking, sometimes interrupted by others who spoke a variation of her tongue. De Santana's voice was pleading, begging. He was in trouble and it caused her immense satisfaction. When the shouting subsided, she banged on the door. A weak sound, but someone was there to rescue her and they would hear her cries; then footsteps outside, men trying to break in. There was a chance they would mistake her for one of them and kill her, but she kept pounding, shouting. “I'm here! I'm here!”

Then the click of a key, the door opened, a shaft of light from torches
. A tall man stood in the light. He spoke in that strange language. She thought he asked her name but wasn't sure. Seeing her condition, he lifted her up. No one carried her this gently since she was a small girl. The others stepped aside for him.
What power did he command? What power did he have to save her?

He brought her to the room where
Teman-e’s men were speaking loudly, but at the same time, under the control of this man. Their painted faces frightened her; some were blood smeared. Across the room, now illuminated by torchlight, cringing like a cowered animal, was the man she hated. She wanted to kill him. Instead, she pointed her finger.

“My father! You took him away! You blamed him for a murder you yourself committed. I saw you! I was
there!”

The words came chokingly
. All her hatred directed at De Santana until, in a fury, she lunged at him but was restrained by Connery.

“What is she saying,
Teman-e?”

Teman-e
vaguely understood. The dialect was different, but some of the words were the same used by the Machi-te.

“Ask what he has done to her.  Ask what she knows.”

The Indian spoke and his words calmed the girl. Her story spilled; from the day an important person was killed and her father taken away, to the day she came to this place, forced to suffer the indignities heaped on her. Teman-e translated and Connery nodded. When she finished, he turned to De Santana.

“Get up!”

Connery pulled De Santana to his feet.

“
Listen carefully! Castelo Branco didn’t send me. But I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

He pointed to
Teman-e.

“These
people. You poisoned them with your cyanide and mercury. Did you know you murdered an entire village? You and your boss are responsible. You're alive only because you can be of use to me. If that weren't so, my friend here would have filleted you an hour ago. Think you've seen bad shit? You’ve seen nothing like what they’re capable of if I give them just one word. You tell me anything that's not true, anything! You belong to them. Clear?”

De Santana shook. He looked at
Teman-e and understood immediately. He thought,
what if he is lying? What if he really was sent by Castelo Branco and it was all a charade to test my loyalty?
Giving information would be fatal. Then there was the savage. It was a no win situation. He decided to talk.

Connery said:

“Tell me about Reyes. What was his connection to your boss?”

“Castelo Branco paid him well. He used his influence to get whatever he wanted. Reyes owned a lot of people, he opened doors.”

“Then why was he killed?”

“He got greedy. He also knew too much. Castelo Branco used him like he did me and everyone else but was afraid Reyes could destroy him.”

“Who killed him?”

De Santana's eyes shifted around the room, the torch brought closer to his face. Sweat poured from his forehead. He wasn't sure who this man was but was positive of what would happen if he didn't have the right answers. His fear of the mysterious tribes was now reality. He continued.

“I told you before, I did.”

“Tell me again. This time, I want details.”

“Because that fat bastard has owned me for years, worked me both ways to get me to do whatever he wanted. If I didn't, he'd have me killed. Do you think I want to be here? These hellholes have been my life for twenty years, making money for him while he threw me scraps. He wanted Reyes’ murder blamed on the Indians, something about environmentalists. He thought that way. I set one of them up. It was easy.

There! He said it, spilled his guts. There was no turning back. He stared at Connery.

“You are a clever man Mr.... what's your name? De
Santana? You are calculating, cover yourself well. You’re nobody’s fool. Tell me about that small recording device I saw in the desk. Why would you need something like that out here? Dictate to your secretary? I don’t think so, so I’ll ask one more question.”