Stained River (37 page)

The day the news
broke about Connery, Hewett was at the airport waiting for a plane to Brussels. His cell phone rang.

“What is it?”

“Connery’s alive.”

“What
do you mean?”

“I said Connery’s alive. He was the only survivor of that crash; walked out of the jungle after a year. He’s landing
here in New York tomorrow. It’s all over the news.”

Hewett dropped the phone as he slid down the chair
, deflated.

“Are you there?

He recovered long enough to answer with instructions he wasn’t sure of. He spoke as if he was in command of a situation that had just blown up in his face

“Okay, listen! Play it smart. Say nothing to anyone, especially the press. I’ll cancel this trip
and be in the office in the morning.”

He picked up his briefcase
, ran to ground transportation and flagged a cab back to the city. On the way, he struggled to come up with a story. Neither Castelo Branco’s name, nor his company, appeared anywhere on the books of Hawthorne Capital. The SEC audit?

Tell him it was cancelled three weeks after the crash. The software problem was solved too
, the crisis avoided.

Then the realization came.
It wouldn’t fly. He was done. The only other option was to get out of town, then out of the country.

The hell with it! Let Walters deal with the mess.

“Cabbie! Back to the airport, and quick!”

Three years later

It had taken years, but Hawthorne Capital was cleansed of all shady ties initiated by Hewett. Connery was back in charge of a company that many noted was rebounding nicely. No doubt, some of that was aided by his  own celebrity.

He was changed. His experience led him to fear no one, yet he was humbled.
His children lost much of their bitterness over his past behavior and subsequent divorce. He met with them frequently, stayed current with what interested them, even joined the texting craze.

A
fter arriving in New York, he hardly found time to catch his breath. He was besieged by offers to appear on wide audience TV shows, speaking engagements, plus he had two book deals if he wanted. It took a full two weeks to find the right publicist and agent. When he did, he hired the best.

Cleaning up the mess Hewett left was first
priority, though. On the fourth day back, he made his first appearance at Hawthorne. It wasn’t long before he noticed someone missing. Dave Flanagan, Connery’s public affairs director, happened to be passing by.

“Dave, where’s Cindy?”

Flanagan looked crestfallen.

“We weren’t going to tell you right off, Terry- weren’t sure you heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Cindy was murdered almost a year ago, not long after Hewett’s office was broken into. She was being replaced. Hewett made it all look very proper and legal. Her replacement had already been hired. Showed up the day after the murder. That was Hewett, a man of compassion, huh?”

“Murdered? Did you say murdered?”

“They found her in her apartment, shot in the head. Apparently, she had quite a fight with whoever did it. I’m sorry, Terry. I know you thought highly of her
.”

“My God!”

Connery sat, trying to digest what he had heard. He thought back.
She knew too much
. Hewett and Castelo Branco were responsible. He could feel it. Poor Cindy, she paid a higher price than anyone else in the whole mess. If only he hadn’t let things get as far out of hand as they did.

That day, he got her mother’s address in Yonkers and took a cab there. The place looked worn. A frail looking woman answered the doorbell and let him in. They talked for about an hour. When he left, there was an envelope on her table. More cash than she had seen at one time in her entire life.

Then there was Pam. She hadn’t forgiven him entirely but was decidedly warmer toward him of late- even accepting a dinner invitation. He hoped to convince her that maybe he had changed during the time he was gone. He had acquired qualities he didn't think he possessed before his ordeal. Each time they conversed, usually when he picked up the children, he sensed a spark. True, there was someone else in her life, but who could tell if it was serious? From some of the things she said, he gathered it wasn’t. Six months before, he told her the whole story. She was the only one who knew about the awful things he experienced, their impact on him. She was particularly taken by the story of Teman-e and his people- how the two became friends and saved one another’s lives- how he finally brought down Castelo Branco. He even told her of Wamura and thought he noticed a touch of jealousy cross her face. Maybe that was a good thing. He thought about being frank and open about his philandering, confessing to relationships she never knew about. That would be like opening old wounds. He decided against it.

Fascinated by what he told her about primitive tribes that still existed deep in the Amazon, she read several books on the subject, becoming quite conversant about their culture. She also developed an acute awareness of any news articles pertaining to them.

Their third successful dinner meeting was on the fifty fourth floor of a tall Manhattan building. A chic restaurant called
City Lights.
After a superb dinner of Alaskan king crab, chateaubriand and expensive wine, she reached into her purse.

“I don’t know if you saw this, perhaps you have. I
cut it out anyway.”

She handed him the clipping as he withdrew newly acquired glasses from his coat pocket. She watched his face intently
as he read.

August 18, 2008

Porto Velho, Brazil (AP)

Authorities today confirmed that government troops were used to quell a rebellion of Indian tribes in
a remote section of Amazonas. Two hundred tribesmen, protesting the illegal takeover of their land and pollution of water resources, overran a large ore production site owned by Mansacha Mining. In the ensuing battle, the Indians killed 19, including the operations manager, before government troops intervened. Reported casualties, killed and wounded, among the indigenous tribes, totaled 15.  One of the dead, said to be the leader of the rebellion, was found wearing a class ring around his neck. He wore no other clothing or ornaments that might identify him. The ring is from a service academy that contained initials. Authorities are checking university records.

He read the clipping a second time, then a third, before folding it carefully, placing it in his coat pocket. She noticed the change that had come over him. Maybe she should have waited.

“Thank you. I hadn’t seen it and maybe never would have. This means a lot.
If he hadn’t come back that day, well…I would be rotting beside some river. Strange, when you think of it, how we came to meet. I wonder if I would have done the same. He was advanced, in a place where advancement didn’t exist.”

As they left, she asked, for the first time, when they would get together again.

That night, he reached into the drawer beside his bed and took out the talisman carved in the image of a jaguar, the length of hemp still attached. Teman-e had given it to him when he sunk to his lowest point, ready to give up, convinced he would never make it out alive. It was all he had to remember a friend by, the trials they had overcome, their unique relationship. He was glad he kept his promise, but the tide was inevitable. The forest was disappearing and more people would be killed. He had done nothing more than buy a little time. Still, that had to mean something.