Chapter 26 - Presentation

   The next morning, we slept in. A little bit, at any rate. While none of the three of us had gotten trashed, we did drink and stay up late. The pilots woke us up quite excited about our two presents we had brought for them last thing the night before. A gift of a wicker basket of real eggs, and of course some very large chunks of roasted pig. So we woke up to two pilots prancing around the little kitchenette squeezed into the corner, happy to have real eggs and fresh pork going for breakfast. I wasn't really sure if it was the smell of breakfast cooking or the light buzz of conversation they tried to keep down in volume. But hey, up is up.

   After all five of us had eaten, the pilots politely returned to their cockpit to give us some privacy. Its a luxury sport jet, and the cockpit has more room than you might expect. Vladimir took a morning nap, but I couldn't sleep while Panic played for a couple hours getting his little briefing together. Around noon or just before, all three of us were up and waiting.

   "Okay. First, how did this place come to be. The coast is just around the horn, so to speak, from the Pacific side of the Panama canal. If you're coming in from the Pacific, its a great place to stop off for a little R and R. There's fresh water fairly close to the ocean. Cargo ships have been stopping here for fresh water, fresh food, and a little break? Since forever. Also? There's a natural port mother nature helpfully provided sailors with."

   "A gentle rock ramp, that drops off and is actually quite deep, for a shoreline. High tide, low tide, it doesn't matter. You can't run aground, and the rock slope is a constant angle. Water, food, docking and a place to relax? If you're a cargo sailor, this place has it all. Kind of a natural rest stop, if you think of the ocean as a highway."

   "That's ancient history. Modern cargo ships? Have all the fresh water, and know how to keep it from turning. They have modern refrigeration, too. So? Fresh water and fresh food aren't modern concerns. There's also better places to dock now, where you can get maintenance, fuel, and traditional sailor fun when they hit land. So, after world war two? You can think of the coast here, as kind of a rest stop that doesn't get used anymore."

   "So. Its still an easy natural dock, for any size ship. They were looking for oil here at one time. If you strike oil, you don't have to go through the expense of building a tanker dock. They found oil, but it was a shitty grade of it. Also? They had another problem. They found too much natural gas, and that complicates the oil work. Once again, the place fades from usefulness, and therefore memory."

   "Fast forward to the modern day. If you're going to run cocaine from Columbia and Brazil, to either the west coat of the United States, or Hawaii, or Japan and China? Hey. Once again, a natural port of call, and privacy. There's also places to grow coca fields, and indigenous people to enslave and farm it for you. The Brazilian government got tired of the bullshit, and used the military to chase the drug lords out."

   "So. What do we have. Fairly primitive villagers farther inland. The drug lords had built a little airport. And? Wonder of all wonders. Capped off oil wells, that produce way too much natural gas. Anyone ever hear of a place called... Columbia?"

   Like anyone hasn't.

   "Okay. Then you heard of their national saint, a sweet little man by the name of Pablo Escobar. He ruled the drug cartel, but when he was finally killed and his giant cartel disbanded... little drug cartels spring up to fill the vacuum. They fight each other, instead of making war on the Colombian government, like Pablo did. Everyone's happier with stuff that way. The cartels are killing each other, so they're out of Columbia's hair. The cocaine still flows steady to first world countries, again, just like everyone wants."

   "So. One of the sweethearts in the new cartel minor leagues, is some asshole by the name of Vaco. When he went off to start up his own franchise so he could have his own little cartel? He remembered this place. Airport. Perfect sea port. Privacy. And... a free source of natural gas. If you already have shafts and pipe, and there's high pressure natural gas blowing up anyways... why not use it. And? That's where the electricity and gas comes from. He puts in some big generators that run on natural gas, runs some pipe around, and voila. All the comforts of home, with no government or military to worry about."

   "Like any self respecting cartel, the profit is in the holy trinity. Drugs, guns, prostitutes. South America is a one stop shopping mall for these things. Drug lords can exist, largely by doing three things. One? Not declaring open war on the host country. Two? Obeying an out of sight, out of mind policy. And three, greasing the right palms of politicians. Vaco has his own little empire going."

   "Now. All drug lords need an enforcer and a little army of assholes. Which is, our General Suarez. He used to run his own guerrilla army in the Colombian jungles, back when that was a popular thing to do. I guess at one time when he was a younger asshole, he was one of the sources for the zombie squads raising hell around the equator. Being a cartel drug lord is easier work and more profitable than making war on your host country, go figure."

   "As far as drug lords go? He's all things considered, pretty easy to get along with. Relatively speaking. His niche? He's the middle man. Colombian coke, Peruvian coke, places farther down all along South America. They ship here, and he ships it out. He's the go between, for connecting South America to Mexico. You gotta get your product to the United States, and you don't want to run afoul of the Mexican cartels. They're the ones you see on the internet, cutting people's faces off alive. While the United States is the biggest ultimate customer, there's other markets. Japan, China, and even Russia."

   I shook my head in amazement.

   "How do the locals know all this. Did he print his own autobiography."

   "No. The FBI knows all about him, and they have a giant file on him. He's not in their jurisdiction, so they can't touch him. If the Brazilian government doesn't ask for help? The DEA can't go operating down here, either. The Mexican cartels are the direct problem to the United States, not him. Everyone finds him, what. Useful, is the best word for it. He's considered to be... non-violent. As far as drug lords go."

   I shook my head again.

   "I don't believe this. Like he's a national treasure."

   "The South American cartels? Don't get along with the Mexican cartels. At, all. As long as he doesn't get greedy, everyone likes him being all he can be. You can think of the South American cartels, as the farmers. The Mexican Cartels? As... the grocery stores to the Unites States. He's, kind of like the agricultural co-op. The farmers take their grain to the co-op. The co-op, ships the grain to where it needs to get to. Its cheaper and less trouble, to just sell to him. If he stays out of things like counterfeiting currency? He's golden."

   Vladimir wondered aloud.

   "What, is these... fascination. With cheap Chinese products."

   "Apparently, Brazil is supposed to be a democracy, and if you want to be politically and economically friendly with the United States? China was installing communism in countries all over South America a ways back. The businesses, though. They, want cheap Chinese goods. The Brazilian government, turns a blind eye to it, because it makes their economy hum along a bit. See, most if not all of the South American governments? Want cheap Chinese goods. Particularly, Chinese knock offs and cheap electronics and tools. So? Everyone plays lets pretend. You send a little cargo ship, to unload off the big Chinese cargo ships that dock here. You don't have a Chinese port, officially you're not dealing with them."

   I shook my head for the third time.

   "Let me guess. He gets a cut."

   "If you're a huge cargo ship? Its expensive to dock at a modern dock. Mother nature made one for them. Also? You have to pay all kinds of... import export and taxes, and inspections, and everything else. All the South American wholesalers? Just order direct from China. They send cargo ships here, to pick up. Everybody's happy with things like they are. Its another big reason? Why he's probably tolerated."

   "This is ridiculous. The continent of South America? Is going to dedicate a statue to him."

   "Probably. But, everyone will just pretend the statue isn't there. Kind of like him, being here."

   I pointed right at Panic.

   "You. He's making you happy, too."

   Panic shrugged.

   "I want a rare piece of information. He has it. If I could go to the library, I would."

   I crossed my arms, and crossed my ankles.

   "So. Where are we at."

   "Northern Brazil. Near the coast."

   "Smart ass. I mean, what's the plan."

   He shrugged again.

   "When Vaco decides we're not making trouble for him? His lap dog, Suarez? Has old information. I need it. He likes money. We have some. What's not for him to like about the situation."

   "He's paranoid."

   "Of course he's paranoid. He's the head of a little drug cartel, and in that business? If you're not paranoid, you don't last long."

   I gesticulated, waving my wrists around in little circles.

   "So, we just wait."

   Panic shrugged.

   "Why are you asking me that."

   "Its your operation."

   "It is. But? Its Vlad's meeting. Vlad? Do we wait, or..."

   "Question."

   We both looked at him.

   "Business meeting? With Suarez. But? Vaco, is in charge."

   I wondered if that complicated things. Then, I asked it out loud. Neither one knew. Panic shook his head.

   "Unknown variables."

   I tried another tack.

   "Okay. So, how long do we wait?"

   "Once again. Ask Vlad."

   We looked over.

   "I do not have crystal ball."

   I gave a wry little grin.

   "Could, we vote on it?"

   Panic mused.

   "If Vlad wants to leave h-i-s meeting, that he's in charge of, up to a vote? He can call for a vote."

   We both looked at Vlad again.

   "A little waiting, to be, research done. On us? I understand. Yuri would research a new person, that he did not meet with before. I do not know Suarez personally? But, I was recommended to him. If you ask me to guess? I would say, the research, the waiting? Is because of you two."

   Panic bought that one.

   "I agree with Vlad's assessment. Drug lord, Russian mafia... One look at Vlad, his stars he wears? He knows that Vlad's legit."

   Panic mused more.

   "What would Vaco care, if his General Suarez, sold old information to someone."

   Vlad shrugged.

   "I only know my rules. My information? Was that General Suarez will sell information, if it does not concern anything. This? Is, old matter. My rules? Are different. I am not to, fuck people. For no reason. Enemy? Yes. Friend never."

   Panic shrugged.

   "And a new person, you don't ever have to deal with again?"

   "I would need good reason. To make money, is not good reason. I would be expected, to ask my superior. If not for permission? For his guidance. If I have no superior to ask? I would be expected to ask someone trustworthy, for opinion. But, these are my rules. I do not know, what... rules, or code? These men may or may not, follow."

   Panic nodded.

   "Vlad? How long should we wait. Your opinion. Before you say something."

   "I am to be polite. With business meeting. I make, impression. I am to be, polite but serious. I would think, I am being impolite. To hurry these thing. But? The longer we wait, it begin to be impolite, them to us. If they have, second thought, about meeting? It would be polite to tell us."

   The presentation kind of smoothly wound down and ended quick. It degenerated into us all sitting around, talking out loud. Brainstorming, me and my handler/boss Mike call it. The brainstorming comes in little spurts. Someone thinks out loud about some aspect of the issue. Others talk. Ask for more, discuss for or against.

   When the pause got too long, Panic changed tack.

   "Okay. Brainstorming has turned into brain farts and stopped. I'd like to change topic? To take a break. Then maybe come back."

   Vlad shrugged.

   "What to talk about, then."

   "Doesn't matter. If you don't have a topic? Just describe Systema verbally."

   "Like I say. Is a new art. Systema master, went out and took short time of lessons, at many things. He was Sambo expert, and went out. Experience, everything."

   "What impressed him."

   "Jujitsu. Brazilian, naturally."

   Panic nodded. Grinned.

   "Naturally."

   "Eh. I see you, and smiling. So, you like Brazil Jujitsu."

   "Want the whole thing, in short format?"

   "Sure."

   "Okay. I'm no great kick-boxer. But? I do it anyways. For years. I'm not the world's best at grappling? But, the same. I do it anyways. For years. I'm not the strongest guy in town, or anything. But? I lift weights when I'm not injured, anyways. Years."

   "You keep doing, all these time."

   "Like I did when I was young, and it was for work? No. I'm hitting early forties soon. But except while injured, yeah. I still do a little bit of everything, I never quit."

   "Is me, more or less."

   "Keep describing, Master Systema man."

   "He said, everything he took a little time of lessons, trying? Everything had at least something he liked, if not more. But, nothing was perfect."

   "I'm so jealous. Its a new martial art, its pretty cool, and... you got taught by the inventor of it, the living master. I mean, how cool is that."

   "So. Systema, I say already. Everything is considered, and... the cream, all pulled out to make Systema. I describe, if you want."

   "Yeah."

   "Big thing, with Systema? Is wrist control. I know, grabbing wrist, is working on. With wrestling, with Jujitsu. But, not like these. Is, big focus."

   "I remember the few times I saw someone do Systema. They had weird wrestling tricks. And they were slick at it."

   Vlad grinned.

   "Anything else?"

   Panic mused.

   "Yeah. Not one of them, ever? Tried to punch me, with a fist. Either grabbing, hitting with the butt of the palm, or chopping."

   "Yes. We do punching, near last. Master called it? Judo, standing up. Where I stand. How I stand. Where I move to. How I contact you. Punch and kick with you? Last thing, I want. I want to make contact with you. Right way. Systema, want control of wrist. Or ankle, or neck. Like Sambo. Anything else I grab, even clothes. Is just temporary. Wrist, ankle, neck control. Moving around, from one to other."

   "Anything else?"

   Vladimir mused.

   "Is much more. But, change subject? Work. I have question."

   "Shoot."

   "If I was not here. These, all you two? What would you do. How, would you decide."

   Panic shrugged.

   "I'm between decisions. I don't know."

   "But, what you think? Or do."

   Panic glanced at me.

   "Honestly? I ask her. Every time."

   "Oh. When decision is important? Yuri always want to hear, every person in meeting. What would Merry say. I would hear it."

   Panic shrugged again.

   "Honey? You're on."

   I cleared my throat.

   "A lot of what I can do? I need to see them. Psychology."

   Vladimir nodded.

   "Me, too. Big university, was all psychology. What do you think."

   "I think right off the top? General Suarez is making us wait if for no other reason, than that he's showing us he's in charge."

   Vlad nodded.

   "I agree."

   "You don't mind that?"

   "Is fine, for now. If it make him happy? I wait. All I want, is to give him money, get him talking. Is main objective. So simple. Merry, anything else?"

   "I think the longer we wait, the more I wonder what he needs to prepare for us. I understand calling someone to check us out. But, the longer I wait, the less I like it."

   "What is your, opinion on it. When we should initiate contact. Ask, polite way. Why we wait, but polite."

   I shrugged.

   "I just know I like it less, the longer I wait. No exact time limit."

   Vlad nodded.

   "Each day? Me, too. We will have to ask soon. And, in future? Remember. Always, say your ideas to me. This is not an order. This is me, asking you? Please. Yuri insist, that every person, give their input."

   We seemed done. I asked.

   "Are we done?"

   Panic shrugged, and looked at Vlad. Vlad shrugged back. Panic tried the silence-breaker's position out for himself.

   "I guess so. Thanks, Vlad."

   Vlad Shrugged again.

   "Is good."

   Panic upended his palms.

   Me and Panic ended up going for a quick shower, together. Now, you have to picture it. Because we're on a luxury sport jet, there is a shower stall. Its actually more than quite nice, its downright spectacular. Its just on a plane, so its for one person. Hooked up to temporary water, we would never drink this stuff. But for bathing and washing dishes? Its fine.

   We casually hit the bathroom together, and closed the door and latched it from the inside. I smiled, he grinned back.

   "Its not like our shower at home."

   He grinned back at me.

   "No. But it is, an official mile high club shower."

   I curled one corner of my lip up, back at him.

   "I guess it is, at that."

   We slowly disrobed and kissed a little, nothing serious. We both giggled as we had to press up against each other fairly tight to fit into the shower. These aren't your ordinary soap dishes, these things look like they were designed for elephants to be unable to hurt them. I dropped my face for him, as I got one foot each onto two soap dishes flanking the inner corner. My big legs above his hips, I could snake my thighs around and over his hips. He hugged me low in my back gently but securely.

   He mechanically touched me where it counted most, forcing me to slobber and mewl into his neck while kissing and nibbling him like a slutty vampire. I squealed and squeaked a second time while clutching onto him for dear life with a fine mist of hot water cascading over us and finding its way down and through our intertwined flesh. Then? Already slick as anything, I got the ever loving shit fucked out of me. Hard, fast, piston-like.

   When he was done, I was already biting my lower lip gently and blushing. He then buried his neck into mine for a change, and gave me human microphone. Hot hoarse whispers that you feel as much as hear.

   "I got an idea."

   "What..."

   "Question. If this Vaco, or General Suarez, can actually get background on me? Riddle me this. Where would they have to have access to, in order to run my jacket."

   My mind was still racing from the quick but intense coital interaction. I informally call it? A twat concussion. Its not fair for him to talk work while I'm in this afterglow. I'm defenseless.

   "Well... hell. Other than your driving records? Or your tax records. Those are public, but only if you know where and how to look it up. Anything... substantial? You're right. It could only come from the FBI. Why."

   "My point. Another question? Would this not count, as a breach of FBI security. If this slug actually is able to access anything like that on me."

   I rolled my eyes. He was right, it would constitute a hell of a security breach, actually. But, though I'm still fighting a racing heart and my head's swimming, I recognize when his Swiss watch intellectualism is churning cogs and gears.

   "What are you thinking."

   He chuckled a little.

   "Its called a Red Herring. I can tell this Suarez dick knuckle character? My name is anything. With a physical description of me, and a fake name I choose? I create something that I can trace. If anyone at work at the FBI so much as touches anything that has this name on it? It will identify them, as the FBI leak. Or, am I being egotistical."

   I sighed and nibbled his neck.

   "How do we do this."

   He got his private cell and got a hold of JG.

   "Hey. If you know the voice? Don't say my name."

   "Okay. What's up. Enjoying the vacation?"

   "More or less. Can I get your tech support?"

   "Sure."

   Panic cleared his throat.

   "I want a unique name. A name? That no other person in America or even visiting has ever used. Check for me. David Abel Fernloth."

   "Okay... nothing."

   "Great. So. Here's my plan. I'm going to use my unique name. Some guy is going to try to run that name. If, they run it anywhere through the FBI? That, is a serious security leak. You find anyone, with that unique name? You got your leak. Just... Carnivore that name? There's your leak. If he has access to the FBI, anyways."

   On speaker, I could listen in. Junior liked the idea.

   "I follow. Nice information war, idea. You're flapping, senpai."

   "I try. Figured why not use a name, that would serve a purpose. Glad you approve, Kemosabi."

   The bastard, and I love him for it, but still... he's fingering me lightly, making me squirm and mewl into his neck. While he carries on a casual conversation with his tech FBI agent friend back at the bureau.

   When he hung up, I was already spread and wrapped around him like a second warm, wet skin. He got his fingers dipped in the suntan oil, and started rubbing and flicking me in my vulnerable state and position.