Authors: David Faxon
Reyes clenched the cigar in his teeth, opened the envelope, stuffed with
reals
in denominations of fifties and hundreds. Sure enough, there was a travel folder containing two tickets on Varig Airlines, first class to Nice Airport, with reservations at a five star hotel. He saw that the envelope contained at least fifty thousand
reals.
‘I
wonder what the sneaky bastard wants that is so important’.
He’d play along, there
might be more in it for him. Unless it was something unusually simple, fifty thousand and a paid vacation wasn’t going to do it. Still, he raised his glass and spoke like the true politician he was.
“Senhor, you
do honor to me. I toast you. I want you to know you always have access to my office.”
The senator blew a smoke ring
, drained his glass then reached for the cognac.
“How can I help?”
“My little gift is to remain confidential, as always. There are those who will oppose what I have in mind. As far as anyone is concerned, I have invited you here to discuss labor issues involving the Indians.”
“Of course! Of course! I will use utmost discretion.”
“Good! Come this way.”
They moved to a large wall map of Brazil. Several small pins with tiny flags protruded from the eastern sections. Castelo Branco pointed to an area in the west
ern part of the country where there were no pins.
“I wish to open up this area to logging and mining.
To start, I will clear 27,000 acres of virgin forest, more to follow. Who knows? Then I will have roads cut and begin mining the river for gold. No one has ever attempted anything on this scale in such a remote region.”
Reyes studied the map
, sensing an opportunity to extract more for himself. He forced a look of concern and his demeanor changed abruptly. The beaming smile of minutes before, melted into a scowl.
“You know of course, this area you are interested in is protected.
You are well aware of the environmentalists. For one thing, others believe that several primitive tribes live there. That is a complication. Many do not want to change part of that world. It is a last vestige. To do what you want will prove most difficult. Already there are problems with the mercury that you and others are using. I am besieged with questions. Some wonder why I don't support stronger laws to prevent exploitation and pollution. My position is compromised.”
Castelo Branco placed his glass on the table and said nothing. He recognized the senator’s excuses as weak
, since he had no trouble overcoming those same obstacles in the past. Reyes waited for a response, but it was not forthcoming. Instead, the silence was interminable, to the point of embarrassment. Castelo Branco’s eyes seemed to bore two holes in Reyes’ forehead. After a lengthy pause, he spoke with a controlled but threatening voice.
“Senator,
hear me well. You are the head of a very powerful legislative committee, are you not? You have done this kind of thing for me before, have you not? You have influence with committee members as well as your party leader. Are you telling me you cannot do it this time?”
Reyes shifted uncomfortably, but
he decided to raise the ante. He held the winning hand. Castelo Branco was bluffing. Then again, he couldn’t be sure.
“Not at all, not at all, but I will need more than what is in this envelope. Let's say, three times
more to begin with. I have people who will need to receive certain incentives, shall we say, before they side with me. It won't be cheap to buy their influence.”
Reyes was no fool. He knew that Castelo Branco stood to reap enormous profit from a project
the size of what he described. He should be willing to pay more, much more. The influence he was talking about was really his own. He would trade political favors, make deals, twist arms. Any extra cash he received would stay in his own pockets. Reyes knew how to game the system.
“In addition, senhor, my expenses are continuing
. I will need some form of gratuity, say 200,000
reals
to accomplish what you want.”
Castelo Branco was angered but not surprised.
Lately, the senator was becoming greedier, over stepping boundaries that always existed between them. While inside he was seething, his patience severely tested; outwardly, he remained calm. For this once, he would go along- too much at stake. Reyes would be dealt with later.
“Very well, it will be arranged, but I want your pledge that I will get everything I want and quickly.”
“You have it.”
The senator stood, tucked the package under his arm and shook hands with Castelo Branco.
“I will be in touch soon.”
Reyes had been a senate member since shortly after the demise of the military regime and the ratification of a new constitution. A former lawyer, he was well known
in political circles and commanded a lot of favorable press. He skillfully cultivated an image of anti-corruption, seeming to support legislation to that effect, but his voting record on issues that might prove unfavorable to his “clients” was poor. He courted people like Castelo Branco, receiving enormous favors in return for his influence. Powerfully connected, especially with the College of Party Leaders and the National Accounts Court, he could usually get what he wanted. Junior senators who opposed him quickly found their political careers in jeopardy.
In addition to his network of influential “friends” and sources of defamatory information,
the law itself provided built in protection, allowing him to operate with little fear of arrest. As a legislator, he enjoyed near total immunity from prosecution for just about any crime; an anomaly in the Brazilian form of government that many had tried to correct without success. There was the possibility that the Chamber of Deputies could invoke a trial for corruption, but it would be conducted under special circumstances with the chance of conviction slim to none.
Senator Reyes was a powerful link in a chain that fostered exploitation of the Amazon, especially with the discovery of gold
. For years Castelo Branco thought he had the legislator in his back pocket, but it was really the other way around. The senator had gathered too much incriminating evidence. Now it was beginning to show in his brazenness.
Castelo Branco
had already begun to suspect as much. Reyes had been indiscreet. For now, he would let him get what he wanted, but it would come with a high cost, his life. It was only a matter of time. Once the senator took care of technicalities with his minions, he would figure out how to get rid of him. It must be done in a way that nothing could be linked to himself or his organization.
CHAPTER
TWENTY TWO
Over the next several days they learned to communicate, first with single words then a few phrases. A level of trust developed as Connery relied on the Indian's instincts for survival in a deadly environment. He interpreted directions and executed them in a way that impressed the native. In return, Teman-e listened and learned what he could. He got Connery's attention by stringing together a few memorized words, then smiling with the achievement. He could speak a new tongue. It made him feel important.
While they couldn’t be sure, both were confident
that the likelihood of Uxhomeb's men picking up their trail was decreasing. Now Teman-e could concentrate on finding his village through territory completely unfamiliar and more dangerous than any he had ever explored. They had gone far enough in the opposite direction. With daylight, it would be time to turn away from the morning sun.
Next day, Connery followed behind through growth thicker than he could have imagined. His feet toughened, the painful rash
all but gone. He was aware of the radical change in direction, but said nothing until the sun had reached its zenith.
“
Teman-e! Where do you take us?”
The question was fruitless, t
he answer always the same. “Ola! Ola!”
The Indian avoided
talk of returning to his home. While he himself was anxious to return, he wasn’t sure how his people would react if he brought a stranger with him. He was especially unsure of Guardara. There would come a time when he would attempt to explain the dangers to Connery. For now, he deemed it best to remain silent until he solved the problem in his mind. As far as Guardara was concerned, it wouldn't be beyond him to have Connery killed before there was a chance to explain his presence.
They
traversed a land that presented constant challenge, a virgin wilderness that gave no respite. The humidity was always oppressive. Black flies were a constant plague, the cries of macaws and parrots, a never-ending source of annoyance. Days had become weeks, weeks became more than a month.
They
came to a place illuminated by shafts of sunlight falling on dew covered ferns, wild orchids, and a profusion of yellow flowers. Flooding the area were thousands of butterflies, wings of gold, yellow, and black, ascending the sun's rays, disappearing into the light. There was coolness that only nighttime brought. Connery stopped to take in the scene. He couldn’t remember anything as beautiful or as serene. It appeared so suddenly. Here was peace, God at work. He wondered if such beauty could exist without anyone to witness it. But
he
was the witness. That made it good. Teman-e too, hesitated at the sight, but the moment soon passed, and they left the clearing, anxious to continue. Connery would have liked to camp right there, but sensed Teman-e's urgency. On the other side of the cool oasis, the humidity grew worse; beads of sweat once again rolled down their faces, flies resumed their attack. They finally stopped, but only because the sounds of the jungle had abruptly ceased, producing haunting silence, broken only by the sound of crickets and beetles.
An unnerving feeling
swept over Teman-e, that this long lost part of the Amazon was a sacred burial ground, spoken of for generations. Here dwelled the spirits of his people. Legend said that whoever came upon this place would die before the day ended. He harbored a deep reverence, almost a mystical fear of the dead, instilled from countless stories and ceremonies since childhood. He turned his head slowly in every direction. He sensed their presence and it was nothing he could convey to Connery. He had blundered; led them to a place where they had no right to be. It was too late to turn back. The disrespect was his making. There was no forgiveness. The price to be paid was his life. Shaken by the consequences, he thought of the butterflies, the shaft of sunlight, the unusual flowers, signs he failed to heed.
“
Teman-e! What is it?”
Connery
couldn’t understand why he acted so strangely. Then it became clear. Moss covered bones, skulls that stared through cavernous sockets in mock silence, lay before them. Remnants of wooden catafalques long ago decayed, crumbled to the ground and spilled bones to the jungle floor.
Something
else caught his eye. Partially hidden, was an enormous stone slab about three feet high and nine feet long; a kind of sacrificial altar. He was astounded as to how it may have got there. On the slab sat a helmet, darkened with age, untouched for centuries, the type worn by Spanish Conquistadors in the Middle Ages. He picked it up and turned it over. Dirt and mold encrusted the inside. He scraped them away revealing markings he didn't understand, but for one, a Christian cross. Not far from the helmet, were the skeletal remains of a large bodied individual. Around its skull was an unusual looking metal helmet, different from that of a Conquistador. Hanging from its neck, an earth caked medallion. The size of the remains was remarkable, belonging to someone approaching seven feet in height. Connery thought,
a giant male warrior, an oddity of some kind
, until he looked at the others. They all had the same large frames. Then he looked closer. The pelvic bones weren’t those of men, they were broader and much more shallow.
I’m no expert on anatomy, but almost certainly, this belonged to a woman.
He pushed aside more dirt and moss to find that metal bracelets adorned the skeleton’s wrists, apparently intended for protection in combat. He reached for the medallion and scraped away the encrusted soil. A cast image appeared. He spit on it then used his shirtsleeve to rub it clean. The image became a helmeted warrior, obviously female, in the act of throwing a javelin. He remembered a story well familiar. How the Amazon got its name.
In the 1500's, a Spanish explorer sailed deep into
its mysterious interior with a small contingent of soldiers, there to claim territory for his king. After several months, the expedition terminated abruptly. Massive females outfitted in armor, extremely skilled in battle, had attacked. He, and what was left of his company, fled through the jungle, severely defeated. Later, he lost control of his men claiming they had mutinied. In a cowardly act, he used his authority to board a homeward bound ship, leaving the others behind to fend for themselves. In Spain he faced dishonor, many thought deservedly so.