Stained River (29 page)

  That night, they all drifted off to sleep inside the hut
. Lateri thought it was just as well that Connery didn't understand what transpired. If he did, he would have known how close to death he had come, even during the celebration. She learned they harbored deep mistrust of white people. A few years before, several had come to their village, taken advantage of their hospitality, then used guns to intimidate them. Two of their women were raped. One man was killed. From their description, Lateri had no doubt it was De Santana and his men. She talked at great length to persuade them that Connery had nothing to do with those people. Actually, he had rescued her from the man they talked of. In the end, they believed her. The gamble paid off. Next morning they departed with enough supplies to last for at least a week.

With each day that passed, she could feel home getting closer.
Just as Teman-e had known when he entered the fringe of his village territory, so too did Lateri. Connery could tell she was becoming more anxious with each bit of progress. Thirty-five days prior, they left Teman-e and his tribe. On the thirty sixth day, their long excursion ended.

It was early morning as Lateri's mother bathed in the river. An odd sensation came over her when she saw a silver craft in the distance. The morning sun, low in the sky, made her squint. Did it have something to do with the mining operation? No, she thought, they almost never came from that direction, yet it wasn’t one of their own canoes. The closer it got, the stronger her heartbeat, until one of the figures stood up and waved excitedly. Her mother’s instinct knew that
it was her daughter.

“Lateri!”

She called her name and kept calling until half the village came to see what was happening.

CHAPTER
FORTY ONE

Lateri’s village

Within hours, distant villages knew the story. But like all information passed by word of mouth, facts became distorted, descriptions of what happened varied, depending on the storyteller. One fact didn't change however; the mysterious appearance of a white man, heavily bearded, ragged clothing, who delivered Lateri safely to her family. He seemed to know Indian ways, even some of their language. More curious was his description of where he came from, what he had seen. There were few Indians who ventured into the region he described, let alone outsiders. Connery became an object of considerable attention and inquisitiveness with Lateri's people, who held him in awe. The girl was back among them. He had brought her back alive when everyone thought she was dead. That alone was mystical.

News soon reached the mining company. Months
had passed since De Santana left to begin a new operation. There was deep concern for those who journeyed with him. Too many omens hinted they might not return. Then word of the disaster spread, the subject of much conjecture over what exactly happened and who was to blame.

De Santana’s
replacement at Tapejo I was Esteban Gomez, chosen by Castelo Branco because he used methods similar to those of his predecessor; mindless exploitation of the land and harsh treatment of the Indians.

When too much time elapsed without word from the new site,
Castelo Branco directed Gomez to send a large boat with extended range, to find out what was going on. The same craft that Connery and Lateri had attempted to signal. Within a week, the men came back with a story that shocked both Gomez and company officials. They described a nightmarish scene of destruction. De Santana’s body was never found.

When the story reached Castelo Branco, he was outraged.
Further evidence of Indian atrocities
, he thought. Undoubtedly, it was they who committed the massacre, but there was more to it. Tribes in that area knew nothing of explosives, or even their existence. Someone else had to be involved. It was a mystery, and no one could come up with an answer that satisfied him. It remained the subject of speculation by many, particularly Gomez, who continually probed for answers to placate his boss.

A few days after the mysterious appearance of Connery, one of Gomez’ assistants burst into his office, forgetting to knock. The man was afraid of Gomez, did everything he could to curry his favor and quickly
realized the hasty interruption was a mistake.

“What is it Vasquez? Make it quick.”

“Senhor Gomez! Pardon me! I am sorry to interrupt this way, but you may be interested in what I have just learned.”

“Go on.”

“A man has come from deep in the jungle and brought with him a young girl he is said to have rescued. They arrived a few days ago on a small boat. She is a member of the Ye'wari, and that is where he stays. The Indians believe he has special powers that protect him.”

“Who is he? Does he have a name?”

“I don't know, senhor.”

“What do you know? What about the boat? Was it an Indian dugout?”

“This I do know, senhor. It was not a dugout. The Indians say it is not theirs. It is like one we would use, though I have not seen it.”

“And what of the girl, where is she?”

“She is with her mother and brothers, where the man is also. There is something strange about that too.”

“Get to the point!”

“You remember the murder of Senator Reyes, before you came here?”

“Of course! Of course! What about it?”

“Well the Indian who was accused of murdering him was the girl's father, the one taken to Brasilia on a company plane. He never made it. There are many rumors, senhor.”

Gomez was stunned. This added a new
dimension. He tried to piece it all together; mining operation blown up, De Santana and his men killed, someone who knew explosives, mysterious appearance of a white man, the boat, the Reyes murder, the girl. “You did well Vasquez.”

Gomez was well familiar with
what happened to Reyes. A poison dart killed him, supposedly by an Indian, but he suspected otherwise. It was rumored that Castelo Branco had ties with the senator and bought his political influence.
Strange that the accused Indian never made it to Brasilia
. Could his boss have been involved? Maybe he didn't want to know the answer. It could prove unhealthy. At the same time, he recognized an opportunity. If he got answers, Castelo Branco could be generous with his rewards as much as he could be lethal to those who crossed him. Sooner or later, he’d meet this man who came out of the jungle. He would arrange a one way trip to Brasilia.

CHAPTER
FORTY TWO

Lateri’s tribe, a branch of the Yanomami, became westernized in a relatively brief period of time, yet held to many of their beliefs and customs. Some were strikingly similar to those of the Machi-te. Their dialect had the same sounds, their gestures the same meaning, their innuendos much the same. Connery found it easy to converse with them. They responded lavishly. Each morning he found gifts of food, trinkets, even tamed birds, placed by his bed. They insisted on celebrating into the evening, and he drank their strange concoctions. It was almost as if he had never left the Machi-te.

Overshadowing
all, however, was the presence of the mining company and its influence. It lay but a short distance from the village. For Connery, it was a constant reminder of Castelo Branco and the pledge he made to bring him down. Every day, he saw the company name emblazoned on a sign at the entrance. His hostility grew. What intrigued him the most, and he had seen it with his own eyes, was the crude airstrip carved out of the forest. Company planes must fly in. That meant he could fly out. He would have to take his biggest gamble yet; make himself known to the enemy. Did they have reason to conclude it was him who destroyed De Santana's operation? Surely, Castelo Branco was notified of what happened, and with his sudden emergence from the jungle with the Indian girl, Connery suspected that someone in his organization had to be putting facts together. It was inevitable they would be more than curious and their capabilities more than dangerous. He would have to invent a plausible story. One that would put him in the clear.

How inquisitive would Gomez be? From what he heard,
he was no better, maybe even worse, than De Sanatana. Lateri was a witness to Reyes' murder. She could link that event to Castelo Branco and therefore become a real threat to him. A candidate for elimination. Before he could do anything, Connery would have to convince the tribal leader to move her and her family to where it was safe. Then he would speak with Gomez.

The next day, he requested a meeting with the chief, who greeted him as if he were an old friend. They called him a chief
. In reality he was, but not in the sense that Guardara claimed the title. Change brought dilution to the position, and he became more of an ombudsman. His wrinkled face showed few teeth, his long hair splayed from under a battered straw cowboy hat. A faded plaid shirt and half- smoked cigarette completed the image. He symbolized what the once proud Yanomami had become; an ethnic group absorbed into a culture they really held no desire to join. The Machi-te, primitive as they were, at least possessed a purist culture. One yet to be diluted by outside influences.

Azanquara
talked with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Every so often he flicked the ash, put the but back in his mouth and inhaled deeply. Connery noticed the yellow stains on his fingers, wondering if his lungs had fared any better.

“I am happy at your visit. Welcome to my hut
. Why do you wish to see me?”

Connery spoke a flattering salutation, then got straight to the point.

“I'm here because I fear for Lateri and her family.”

“Why? Everything is well, she has returned. We are most grateful.”

“There are things you may not know. Do you remember her father, Yeharau?”

“Of course
. The
garimpieros
said he murdered one of their important men. We never saw him again.”

“And you never will. The same people who took him murdered him.
Possibly dumped his body from a plane. Now Lateri may be in danger also.”

“Was it De Santana?”

“No, but he gave the order. There is someone above him that is far more dangerous. His name is Castelo Branco. He is powerful, his influence far reaching. Lateri witnessed things she will not mention to anyone until she is ready. These include the death of an important man. She knows De Santana killed him, and she can link him to this man Castelo Branco. He has grown rich from the pollution of your waters and land. He isn’t afraid to eliminate anyone who interferes. You must move her and the family to where they are safe. I will get word to you when I think it is OK for them to come out of hiding.”

“I know a place, but how will I explain
. My people will be curious.”

“You are the chief. You will find an explanation. In the meantime, I will convince them they must leave soon. I know I can trust you
. There is one more thing. It’s no secret why Lateri was at that site. She suffered badly at the hands of De Santana. He forced her into prostitution; you know this, her family knows this. She never changed; she never did anything for De Santana willingly.”

With that, Connery left
. He found Lateri outside the communal hut with her mother. He greeted them warmly then repeated his request of the chief. She listened with growing apprehension. There was sadness in her eyes, but she understood. She knew what the
garimpieros
were capable of. Their situation extended far beyond the influence of Gomez. Connery told them that their exile would not be permanent. One day it would be safe to return. In a day or two, he would arrange to meet with Gomez.

CHAPTER FORTY
THREE

Gomez was completing his morning inspection of water cannons and river mining barges, barking orders, shoving workers who didn’t react fast enough. He was in a foul mood when Vasquez approached, asking to speak with him.

“What is it Vasquez? This better be important!”

“Senhor, the man wishes to speak with you.”

Gomez’ mood changed. With it, came a wry smile. He would get to meet this mystery man after all.
He’d better have the right answers.

“Tell him
to be in my office at 11.”

By noon, Connery
had been waiting for an hour. He sensed a cat and mouse game. His impatience growing, he looked around the cramped outer office; drab, gray and cluttered. Tiny mites scurried across desktop papers. Cigar ash was everywhere. On the wall, hung a dour picture of Castelo Branco, who seemed to stare at him suspiciously.
You will get yours
, he thought, then went back to rehearsing the story in his mind. It was plausible. Nevertheless, the fear that he overlooked something worried him. His confidence began to erode. Finally, the door swung open. Gomez strode into the room, trailing a plume of cigar smoke. Connery offered his hand, but there was no reciprocation. Instead, Gomez spoke in accented English, peppered with Portuguese slang.