No Title Yet Part 3 - Puzzles
This is a snapshot of a fictional story written daily on my Facebook status, 160 characters at a time - two or three status updates a day. Each paragraph constitutes one Facebook status update. It is still ongoing and it is written without edit. Part 1 and part 2.
Pedro entered the club silently, he observed his 270 degree surrounding, memorizing every faces (not many) and fixated his attention immediately to a lone guy sitting on the bar, Andrew. The music now changed to the growl of Alice Cooper's "You're poison running through my veins,," and he took a stool on the bar and look on Andrew to the left. "Long time no see, Andrew". "You looked terrible". "Worse than usual".
"So what's the occasion?". "I need a transport out of here. Long range.", Pedro confessed. "Where do you need to go?". "Siberia". "That is far". "If it is close, I'll fly there on my single engine". "Sorry, I can't help you this time.". "Why not?". "Budget cuts. We have a new guy at the top and right now it's budget review time.". "Shit!". "Fly commercial"."I'm afraid I have to".
Andrew changed the topic, "What did you know about yesterday?". "I was there". "How close?". "It was supposed to be my drive and it blew up on my face", Pedro volunteered. "I didn't find your name on the casualty list". "I asked the doctor to remove it from the list". "Good idea. Premature detonation?". "No, some punk tried to steal the car and he ignited the trigger. Poor bastard". "Better him".
Andrew pressed further, "You think Rómulo tried to take you out?". "I doubt it. We go way back thirty years and this is not his style. He trades weapons - he doesn't take people out. That's my business. I think it was for him.". "That's surprising". "It is. He had been good for everyone, ironically". "It is rare to find an honest broker in this game". "Indeed. He is special". "Have you contacted him". "In an hour".
Pedro continued, "If the bomb was for him, his attacker would know that he was not hit. So they might try to take him out at his house. I would have tried yesterday but I was too messed up to do anything". "You would not have done any good yesterday". "Aging". "I hope we are getting wiser". "I doubt it", Pedro smiled. "I have to write back to Langley". "I will send you what I find out". "Thanks - and good luck".
The night turned barely turned into a new day when Pedro reached the roof top adjacent to the target house. It took him some difficulty to hoist himself up 9 meters up from the ground from an alley four buildings to the left - he threw rocks to kill the lights - one of the threw sparks when its glass casing shattered. He had walked for six blocks back to the are - following the crowd going to churches nearby.
He dressed smartly, with a loose brown striped tie and easy casual brown jacket - and a black ribbon on his right arm, a sign of mourning. He surveyed the landscape of the rooftops with his monocular, checking for sign of observation pots - a usual security precaution. He was satisfied that he could move freely now and started to step towards an attic window thirty meters ahead. Adrenaline kicked in.
He reached the window, pulled his glass cutter and started a rectangular incision. He pulled the glass and entered the attic carefully, checking for any sign of house protection alarm. There was none. It looked like Rómulo had just move in the house recently. The attic was dark, only a glimmer of faint light of a lower floor could be seen through a small gap in the door. He took out his knife and started moving.
He push the handle and it did not budge - locked. "fuck". He took out a steel pick from his small pack and started working on the lock. After 35 seconds, it gave up. He opened the door and carefully turned to two sides of the white corridor, a series of Picasso prints adorned the walls. He noticed "Lady with a fan" a couple of meters too the right, next to a stair and the waif girl in "Girl in a Chemise" on the left.
He turned left, sneaked 10 steps and peek over to another smaller corridor to the right. He could see two doors, one left ajar. His suspicion arose and he carefully approached the door, knife at ready. It was a small study, furnished with polished brown wood furniture in classical model commonly found in court houses - a single working table and two sets of bookshelves. It was neat and nothing seems to be disturbed.
He approached the table and look over the stack of business papers. They were invoices for previous deliveries - all marked for March. Rómulo was probably doing over a million dollars worth of deliveries a month. "Lucky bastard". He move his attention to a jewelry box, lovingly decorated with intricate wood carving. "Maybe it's a gift for the Miss", he assumed - wrongly - as he found a bloody finger when he opened it
"hmm, this can't be good", he murmured to himself. He put the ghastly item back and decided to check the adjacent room. It opened to a cozy dark wood bed room, lovingly decorated with photographs of smiling children and families. There was light in presumably a bath room. The door was opened and then somebody shouted from inside, "I could hear you. The government was already here". It was Rómulo's voice.
Pedro smiled, his friend was alive. "So they took you for a ride?", he replied. "Just like 1976", he referred to a military coup against President Lara. Pedro found his friend in a tub, brandy on the side, in a bath room with pebbles floor. He had a three cuts on his left cheek, a black eye right eye and a swollen lips. He wore a wry smile. "Want to join ?". "Tempting, but no. I see that you are alone. Where is she".
"I sent her away immediately after my car blew up on you. It was not good for her to be entangled with all of these mess. I thought you were dead but your name was not on the list.". "Surprised?". "Delightfully yes". Pedro knew that his statement was sincere. He sat on top of the loo and inquired, "What do you think happened?". "So now you are interrogating me?". "I want to know your theory". "I think I am a pawn".
"There is something going on around here. Somebody is planning something big. You know that I have been dealing for a long time - with everybody. Last month was the first time I refused to supply a potential buyer. It's a new group - never heard of them before. They wanted some really serious stuff, which does not make sense because war is winding down and there nothing around here to do but FARC. I don't like it".
"I heard that even that imbicile across town refused them. Then I got a lovely gift, two weeks ago, a severed finger. Not sure whom. With a note, something like 'you will pay'. They did follow up, two days ago.". "Are you sure those are the same guys?", Pedro interrupted. "Too much coincidence". "Why would one go to this great length for a refused buy?". "Nobody unless they wanted to create a diversion".
"That must be an expensive diversion". "Yes. And you only go to all these troubles if you have something big in the work". "That makes sense. It cannot be a coup". "The military does not need a diversion.". "Not FARC either.". "No, I think they are planning an assassination of high value target or do a spectacular terrorist attack, like Mumbai". "It's a long way from Pakistan". "Somebody is trying to kill a President
"That sounds too far fetched to me". "Up to you, but nothing else explains these events". "It's up to you to figure out, they were trying to kill you". "Unfortunately yes. Btw, how did you get here?". "Through the roof". "Good, they must be monitoring the street.". "I figured. What is your next plan?", Pedro inquired. "First, I have to get a new car. Then I want to make sure that those spooks constantly follow me".
Pedro left the house the way he came in, moving out more carefully this time as the center had turned quieter in the early morning. He followed the shadows and returned to his hotel to end the day. Hectic days were looming ahead.
April 2nd, morning, at Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, Comercio e Integracion headquarter. Pedro introduced himself at the front door and efficiently guided to the west wing third floor office of Eduardo el Fuentes, head of Asian affairs of the foreign ministry of Ecuador. The two men greeted warmly and exchanged official pleasantries, before setting down to business. "This is quite an unusual request."
Pedro had asked to be given a cover as a trade attaché to Japan so that he could travel under diplomatic cover to his destination. Nobody checked on the luggage of a diplomat, thanks to the full immunity granted to foreign service by host country. Next to a private flight, this is the next best option and he could still enjoy the first class long haul flight from Ecuador to Tokyo.
Eduardo then continued, "I do not consider this as serious.". Pedro pressed, "Then next time the President asks for a favor, I will decline", hardball. Eduardo paused, "You know the President?". "Ask him". Eduardo frowned and made a 5 minute phone call and got a confirmation. "So?". "The Foreign Minister office give instructor to give you assistance of any kind". Pedro smiled smugly, "That is much better".
"We will issue you papers as part of temporary trade mission to Japan supporting the commercial attaché. They will be ready tomorrow and valid for a year". "That is fine". Pedro started to leave the room when Eduardo called, "How did you get these privileges, if I may?". "It's a long story my friend, I have been a valuable asset to the country for a long time", Pedro smiled.
Pedro strapped in comfortably on his leather first class seat on a 747 Avianca plane, destination LAX. He would then took a layover and continue to fly half around the world, to the futuristic mega-polis of Asia, Tokyo. There was nothing to much do for the next three days. He planned to exercise his rights to unlimited scotch and whiskey on the flights, although pity about the no smoking flights, no cigars.
Pedro entered the club silently, he observed his 270 degree surrounding, memorizing every faces (not many) and fixated his attention immediately to a lone guy sitting on the bar, Andrew. The music now changed to the growl of Alice Cooper's "You're poison running through my veins,," and he took a stool on the bar and look on Andrew to the left. "Long time no see, Andrew". "You looked terrible". "Worse than usual".
"So what's the occasion?". "I need a transport out of here. Long range.", Pedro confessed. "Where do you need to go?". "Siberia". "That is far". "If it is close, I'll fly there on my single engine". "Sorry, I can't help you this time.". "Why not?". "Budget cuts. We have a new guy at the top and right now it's budget review time.". "Shit!". "Fly commercial"."I'm afraid I have to".
Andrew changed the topic, "What did you know about yesterday?". "I was there". "How close?". "It was supposed to be my drive and it blew up on my face", Pedro volunteered. "I didn't find your name on the casualty list". "I asked the doctor to remove it from the list". "Good idea. Premature detonation?". "No, some punk tried to steal the car and he ignited the trigger. Poor bastard". "Better him".
Andrew pressed further, "You think Rómulo tried to take you out?". "I doubt it. We go way back thirty years and this is not his style. He trades weapons - he doesn't take people out. That's my business. I think it was for him.". "That's surprising". "It is. He had been good for everyone, ironically". "It is rare to find an honest broker in this game". "Indeed. He is special". "Have you contacted him". "In an hour".
Pedro continued, "If the bomb was for him, his attacker would know that he was not hit. So they might try to take him out at his house. I would have tried yesterday but I was too messed up to do anything". "You would not have done any good yesterday". "Aging". "I hope we are getting wiser". "I doubt it", Pedro smiled. "I have to write back to Langley". "I will send you what I find out". "Thanks - and good luck".
The night turned barely turned into a new day when Pedro reached the roof top adjacent to the target house. It took him some difficulty to hoist himself up 9 meters up from the ground from an alley four buildings to the left - he threw rocks to kill the lights - one of the threw sparks when its glass casing shattered. He had walked for six blocks back to the are - following the crowd going to churches nearby.
He dressed smartly, with a loose brown striped tie and easy casual brown jacket - and a black ribbon on his right arm, a sign of mourning. He surveyed the landscape of the rooftops with his monocular, checking for sign of observation pots - a usual security precaution. He was satisfied that he could move freely now and started to step towards an attic window thirty meters ahead. Adrenaline kicked in.
He reached the window, pulled his glass cutter and started a rectangular incision. He pulled the glass and entered the attic carefully, checking for any sign of house protection alarm. There was none. It looked like Rómulo had just move in the house recently. The attic was dark, only a glimmer of faint light of a lower floor could be seen through a small gap in the door. He took out his knife and started moving.
He push the handle and it did not budge - locked. "fuck". He took out a steel pick from his small pack and started working on the lock. After 35 seconds, it gave up. He opened the door and carefully turned to two sides of the white corridor, a series of Picasso prints adorned the walls. He noticed "Lady with a fan" a couple of meters too the right, next to a stair and the waif girl in "Girl in a Chemise" on the left.
He turned left, sneaked 10 steps and peek over to another smaller corridor to the right. He could see two doors, one left ajar. His suspicion arose and he carefully approached the door, knife at ready. It was a small study, furnished with polished brown wood furniture in classical model commonly found in court houses - a single working table and two sets of bookshelves. It was neat and nothing seems to be disturbed.
He approached the table and look over the stack of business papers. They were invoices for previous deliveries - all marked for March. Rómulo was probably doing over a million dollars worth of deliveries a month. "Lucky bastard". He move his attention to a jewelry box, lovingly decorated with intricate wood carving. "Maybe it's a gift for the Miss", he assumed - wrongly - as he found a bloody finger when he opened it
"hmm, this can't be good", he murmured to himself. He put the ghastly item back and decided to check the adjacent room. It opened to a cozy dark wood bed room, lovingly decorated with photographs of smiling children and families. There was light in presumably a bath room. The door was opened and then somebody shouted from inside, "I could hear you. The government was already here". It was Rómulo's voice.
Pedro smiled, his friend was alive. "So they took you for a ride?", he replied. "Just like 1976", he referred to a military coup against President Lara. Pedro found his friend in a tub, brandy on the side, in a bath room with pebbles floor. He had a three cuts on his left cheek, a black eye right eye and a swollen lips. He wore a wry smile. "Want to join ?". "Tempting, but no. I see that you are alone. Where is she".
"I sent her away immediately after my car blew up on you. It was not good for her to be entangled with all of these mess. I thought you were dead but your name was not on the list.". "Surprised?". "Delightfully yes". Pedro knew that his statement was sincere. He sat on top of the loo and inquired, "What do you think happened?". "So now you are interrogating me?". "I want to know your theory". "I think I am a pawn".
"There is something going on around here. Somebody is planning something big. You know that I have been dealing for a long time - with everybody. Last month was the first time I refused to supply a potential buyer. It's a new group - never heard of them before. They wanted some really serious stuff, which does not make sense because war is winding down and there nothing around here to do but FARC. I don't like it".
"I heard that even that imbicile across town refused them. Then I got a lovely gift, two weeks ago, a severed finger. Not sure whom. With a note, something like 'you will pay'. They did follow up, two days ago.". "Are you sure those are the same guys?", Pedro interrupted. "Too much coincidence". "Why would one go to this great length for a refused buy?". "Nobody unless they wanted to create a diversion".
"That must be an expensive diversion". "Yes. And you only go to all these troubles if you have something big in the work". "That makes sense. It cannot be a coup". "The military does not need a diversion.". "Not FARC either.". "No, I think they are planning an assassination of high value target or do a spectacular terrorist attack, like Mumbai". "It's a long way from Pakistan". "Somebody is trying to kill a President
"That sounds too far fetched to me". "Up to you, but nothing else explains these events". "It's up to you to figure out, they were trying to kill you". "Unfortunately yes. Btw, how did you get here?". "Through the roof". "Good, they must be monitoring the street.". "I figured. What is your next plan?", Pedro inquired. "First, I have to get a new car. Then I want to make sure that those spooks constantly follow me".
Pedro left the house the way he came in, moving out more carefully this time as the center had turned quieter in the early morning. He followed the shadows and returned to his hotel to end the day. Hectic days were looming ahead.
April 2nd, morning, at Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores, Comercio e Integracion headquarter. Pedro introduced himself at the front door and efficiently guided to the west wing third floor office of Eduardo el Fuentes, head of Asian affairs of the foreign ministry of Ecuador. The two men greeted warmly and exchanged official pleasantries, before setting down to business. "This is quite an unusual request."
Pedro had asked to be given a cover as a trade attaché to Japan so that he could travel under diplomatic cover to his destination. Nobody checked on the luggage of a diplomat, thanks to the full immunity granted to foreign service by host country. Next to a private flight, this is the next best option and he could still enjoy the first class long haul flight from Ecuador to Tokyo.
Eduardo then continued, "I do not consider this as serious.". Pedro pressed, "Then next time the President asks for a favor, I will decline", hardball. Eduardo paused, "You know the President?". "Ask him". Eduardo frowned and made a 5 minute phone call and got a confirmation. "So?". "The Foreign Minister office give instructor to give you assistance of any kind". Pedro smiled smugly, "That is much better".
"We will issue you papers as part of temporary trade mission to Japan supporting the commercial attaché. They will be ready tomorrow and valid for a year". "That is fine". Pedro started to leave the room when Eduardo called, "How did you get these privileges, if I may?". "It's a long story my friend, I have been a valuable asset to the country for a long time", Pedro smiled.
Pedro strapped in comfortably on his leather first class seat on a 747 Avianca plane, destination LAX. He would then took a layover and continue to fly half around the world, to the futuristic mega-polis of Asia, Tokyo. There was nothing to much do for the next three days. He planned to exercise his rights to unlimited scotch and whiskey on the flights, although pity about the no smoking flights, no cigars.
posted by Dody G. at 1:11 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home