28 August 0845 Local

Reciefe, Brazil

28 August

0845 Local

            He felt energized and alive!  The flight from Mexico D.F. was pleasant.  He had indulged in a small bottle of American scotch that the attractive flight attendant had offered.  The film on the flight was tolerable, if it was badly dubbed into Portuguese.  Something about an American law student or lawyer.  There had been a dog in it, if he remembered correctly.  He had seen it a while back, while in Kentucky, where it was barely memorable.  That time it had been in English, and new.

            “Merciful God, I do hate dubbed movies,” He muttered to himself.  Rafael Lopez shook his head to clear the distraction, and reached around the case slung over his shoulder to adjust his belt.   His eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses, quickly scanned the other people walking and riding along the Brazilian street.  Not detecting anyone paying him attention, he quickly pulled up on his pants.  Even though he carried the lightest pistol available, the Glock 36, in his right pocket and the 12 rounds of .45 caliber ammunition, in two magazines in his left, still tugged his pants lower with every step.  Lopez wouldn't have had it any other way.  The tiny little Glock was slim and concealable, but still had six rounds of potent .45 caliber ammunition per magazine.  “Bless the American gun control laws that made the Austrians develop such a wonder,”  he thought to himself. He felt he needed this edge in the event of an all too common kidnapping attempt that had been made more likely by his expensively tailored clothes and therefore his membership in the class of business elite.  In Reciefe, Brazil, you never could be too careful.

            Lopez eyes caught the sign ahead of him, to the left.  He felt the vibration of the cell phone buzz against his hip.  He detached the small device from its holder, snapped it open and put it to his ear. “Hello?” he said in English.

            “Status?”  Inquired the voice, again in English.

            “I am in sight of the business.  I’ll see if the owner is in, present him with the offer and see what kind of discount we can get,” he replied.

            “You have arrived already?  Have you checked in at the hotel?”

            “The flight was early.  Aero-México has really been improving their departure times.  I’ll check in after I conduct the business.  My flight home?”  Lopez grinned and nodded at two attractive business women who smiled back at the fit, short haired Mexican. 

            “I’ve emailed the e-tickets to your AOL account.  Your flight leaves tomorrow morning, about 0600 local.  Don’t miss it.”

            “I will not miss that flight.  I’m here.  I will check in via email as soon as I am concluded here.  Take care,” Lopez said, craning his neck back to look at the glass and steel of the building.

            “And you, Captain, good luck.  Out,” The line went dead.

            Lopez snapped the phone shut and entered the lobby of the building.  He walked straight to the information desk, smiled at the receptionist as he removed his sunglasses. “I am here to see Mr. Koslowski.  I have a 9:00am appointment.  My name is Pablo Domingo.”  He said in perfect, unaccented Brazilian Portuguese. He hooked his sunglasses into the collar of his maroon Brooks Brothers golf shirt.

            The receptionist nodded and smiled back, revealing slightly crooked teeth.  “One moment, sir,” she tapped an extension into her PBX console and spoke into the headset she wore, “Mr. Koslowski, a Mr. Domingo is here to see you,” she paused, getting a response.  “Yes, sir.  Good bye,” she again met his eyes, “Mr. Domingo, just take the elevator to the third floor, take a right from the elevator lobby.  Mr. Koslowski’s office is the fifth on the left,” She gestured in the direction of the elevators. 

            “Thank you,” Lopez said, nodding his head.  He shifted the combination laptop case and valise on his shoulder and headed off to the elevator, which arrived just as he reached for the button.  Two men in light suits stepped out.  Lopez stepped in and pushed the appropriate button.  The door slid shut and the elevator rose.  He looked at himself in the mirrored wall.  Tall, just over six feet, with jet black hair.  In his features you could see both the features of his Castilian heritage, and the ancestry of the Aztec blood that ran through him.  His hair was short, his face clean-shaven and dark from years in the sun.  He flexed his arm.  The muscles rippled beneath the pucker of scar on his right forearm.  His smile faded as he remembered a June day in Chiapas.

            The door opened.  He shook his head, shoving the unpleasant memories back into the little part of his mind where they normally resided, along with many others.  He took a quick, deep, cleansing breath and put his friendly smile back on.  Out, to the right, he found the fifth door on the left.

            “Ricardo Koslowski – Naval Architect - Senior Account Manager – Rio de Oro Boatbuilders, Inc.,” read the placard on the wall next to the door.  He rapped it with this knuckles twice and twisted the handle.  The door opened and a tall, slightly overweight Brazilian of Polish descent rose and crossed the office to greet him.  Lopez closed the door with a click behind him.

            “Mr. Domingo!  I trust that your flight was pleasant?”  Koslowski said extending his hand.

            “Indeed, sir!  I was just remarking to my father on the phone how much better Aero México has become in recent years,” Lopez took the proffered hand, grasped firmly and shook once.  Koslowski gestured to a chair opposite the large wooden desk.  It was almost out of place.  It was different from the rest of the room, and of the building.  The building was very modern, built of glass, steel, concrete, chromes and plastics. The desk was a throwback, made of old, thick and heavy woods.  Its top, polished to mirror sheen, was beautiful to behold.  The accouterments upon the desk befitted that of an early twenty-first century professional, muted silver nineteen-inch flat panel computer monitor, optical wireless mouse, and attractive speakers.  No paper on the desk at all.  Everything neat and where it should be.  Lopez was impressed.

            “Beautiful desk, sir,” Lopez offered.

            “This used to belong to the founder of Rio de Oro.  He passed it on to me when he retired.  I trust that you have reviewed the specifications of our proposal?”  Koslowski asked, his eyebrows arched.

            “I have,” Lopez reached into his laptop case and extracted his tablet PC.  He awoke it, and made sure that the CAD application was where he had left it and handed the unit to Koslowski.

            Koslowski looked, scrolling down over the various views of the boxy watercraft, smiling paternally. Koslowski was naturally proud of all of his designs.  That’s why he was ecstatic when a small, unknown corporation had telephoned one day taking bids on a new, shallow draft, cargo hauling work-boat.    They wanted a thousand of them, to boot!  It was wide, had tall gunwales and a shallow draft, a cargo ramp at the front and two small, inexpensive water jet engines.  Koslowski nodded approvingly.   “A compact, efficient design if I do say so myself,” he passed the tablet PC back to Lopez.  He looked up to Lopez who nodded and chuckled, “A question, though. Do you really want them built out of plywood over the steel frame? Thermoplastic sheeting would be more durable, especially in the climate of Amazonia, and not prohibitively more expensive” Lopez shook his head, Koslowski nodded and continued, “They should be able to carry approximately the weight of a fully loaded two-and-one-half-ton cargo truck.  They appear to ready for mass production.  Would you like to inspect the prototype? Your evaluation team finished with it yesterday and we are having it cleaned.  They were rather rough with it!”  He chuckled.

            “I am sure that they were.  I have seen their report and they are impressed.  Unfortunately, however, our timetable has progressed a bit.  I’ll be leaving town as soon as our business is conducted here.  More importantly, we are going to need the first 250 of these in six months,”  Lopez stated, “I will need the remaining 750 no later than four months after that. Our mining and pharmaceutical operations across the Amazon basin require us to move sooner than we had expected and these craft will expedite the process,” a mild look of surprise crossed Koslowski’s face.

            “That is sooner that we had expected, but that should not present an insurmountable obstacle.  I expect we should be able to meet that target deadline.  Cost may be more of an issue…”  His voice drifted off.  He looked plaintively at Lopez.  Lopez smiled.  In addition, I have been authorized to broker a new cost per unit.  Would seventy-five hundred, US, per craft suffice?” 

            Koslowski turned to his PC.  His right hand manipulated the mouse, while he typed numbers in furiously with his left. When completed he turned back to Lopez with a bit of a frown.  “Disappointingly, Mr. Domingo, due to possible supply problems we might have procuring the steel frame and plywood sheathing that these vessels require, we would be unable to do this for less than ten thousand per copy.  Factor in development and production costs,” Lopez expression remained unchanged, still smiling, “taking the total to just over eleven million, US.  Is that a workable figure?” Lopez smile widened.  “It is indeed, sir.  We will take it!  On behalf of the South American Resource Development Corporation, I’d like to take this opportunity to say that you are opening a grand new future for all of the people of the Western hemisphere.  We expect to make great gains in developing the resources of this continent, and your boats will allow large number of men and women to fully explore and develop the resources in and around the shallow waters of the Amazon basin.  Be proud, sir.  You are contributing to a bold new chapter in history.  I think that it is safe to say that your name and your industrial ability will be a role model in the future,” Lopez stood and stuck out his hand, “An initial sum of five million US dollars will be wired to Rio de Oro Bank within the hour, sir.”

            Koslowski stood, smiling and shook Lopez hand. “It is a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Domingo!  Might I invite you to lunch?  I happen to know a restaurant that serves the best food in Reciefe!  It is within walking distance of here.   Let us celebrate this historic deal!”

            Lopez canted his head and smiled at Koslowski.  “Historic indeed, and far more historic than I think anyone realizes!  Lead on, sir!”  How little he knows, Lopez thought to himself - how little anyone knows.