Part 23 (1/2)
Estralla nodded, glanced around to collect a thought, scratched his chin then reached into his pocket and produced Gannon's pa.s.sport, turning it over in his hands.
”You should leave Brazil now, while you can fly home upright.” Estralla placed Gannon's pa.s.sport in his hands. ”That is a little friendly advice, from one Buffalo Bills fan to another.”
Estralla's phone rang. Before taking his call, he shook Gannon's hand then left. Gannon sat alone for several minutes, pondering his pa.s.sport when he heard his name being cursed.
”G.o.ddammit, Gannon, what the h.e.l.l is wrong with you? You don't answer your phone?” Frank Archer had entered the hospital with an older man in a light suit, a man Gannon didn't recognize. ”Police told us at the scene that you had come here.”
”h.e.l.lo, Frank.”
”Lawrence Chapin,” the older man introduced himself. ”With the U.S. consulate. State Department. You got some nasty bruises there. Are you all right, son?”
”I'm fine.”
”Physically, maybe.” Archer snorted. ”I get back from Gabriela's funeral in Miami and New York's screaming that Gannon's been taken hostage by drug dealers in a favela! There's been a shoot-out! People are dead! I've been unable to reach you. Jesus, Gannon!”
”I said in my note to New York that I was fine, Frank.”
”Well George doesn't think so.” Archer pulled out an envelope and gave it to Gannon. ”You're done here. This is your ticket.”
”What do you mean? I'm still on the story.”
”Not anymore. You've been a disaster. You're being called back to New York. A flight to JFK leaves in five hours. So check out of your hotel and bon voyage, pal.”
”What does Melody say?”
”Doesn't matter--Beland backs George. You're done in Brazil.”
”Excuse me,” Chapin said, ”I need a moment with you, Jack. You see whenever a U.S. citizen is a victim of crime--”
”You know, Jack--” Archer shook his head ”--we're going through a tough time down here. It's not easy burying friends. Everyone's emotionally pushed to the breaking point. And while her intentions were good, I think Melody Lyon made a huge mistake sending us someone like you, a person who clearly is not ready to handle a major story of any kind.”
Gannon looked long and hard at Archer, standing there, oozing Ivy League arrogance through his designer polo s.h.i.+rt.
”You know, Frank, I think you're right.”
”Of course, I'm right. And another thing, you might want to consider going back to Buffalo. Do they still have a newspaper there?”
”That's a thought. And I was going to give you a point to consider but I'm sure you'll figure it out.” Gannon turned to Chapin. ”We can talk in the taxi to my hotel.”
Along the drive, Gannon summarized his ordeal for Chapin, a seasoned diplomat, who'd been involved in many tight situations around the world.
As the car approached the hotel, Chapin offered Gannon his a.s.sistance.
”Can I ask you a confidential question?” Gannon said.
”Certainly.”
”Do you know of a Drake Stinson, an American with Worldwide Rio Advogados? He used to work in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.”
”Yes. I've got friends in the Justice Department and I asked them about Stinson when he arrived in Rio de Janeiro. Seems he used to be a lawyer for the CIA.”
”The CIA?”
”You could look him up in old obscure legal bulletins and newsletters. But you won't find much. Stinson handled legal work on critical cases that were usually cla.s.sified, secret proceedings due to national security.”
”Really?”
Gannon turned to the window letting the revelation sink in all the way to the Nine Palms Hotel.
30.
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
At Rio's Galeao International Airport Gannon sat in preboarding, turned on his laptop and began drafting a news story.
He had less than forty-five minutes before his flight departed for JFK.
He tried again to reach Melody Lyon.
No luck.
As time ticked by, he worked on his story that would say that mystery continued to shroud the ident.i.ty of those behind the attack that had killed ten people at the Cafe Amaldo. He quoted Dragon's denial of gang involvement and his accusation that police had fostered rumors of a blood vendetta to trigger a war among competing drug networks.
As Gannon wrote the final paragraphs, the first preboarding advisory for his flight was announced over the PA system. After a quick rereading, he filed his raw copy to the WPA in New York. Once they'd edited his story, it would be translated and offered to WPA's international subscribers, which included virtually every news organization in Brazil. His story would be posted to online sites and would run in print editions the next day. Gannon was hopeful his article would satisfy the Blue Brigade and they would remove their threat to WPA staff.
This should save Frank Archer's arrogant a.s.s.
Gannon waited until New York confirmed receipt of his file in an e-mail.
Got it. Thanks, Jack.
In his article Gannon had made no mention of Maria Santo's meeting with Gabriela or the bigger story because he was still a long way from nailing it.
This is what he knew: Maria Santo was about to give the WPA secret doc.u.ments alleging that the law firm where she worked was involved in the illegal adoption and trafficking of stolen children. The doc.u.ments were marked for destruction. The firm's staff included a former CIA lawyer experienced in highly cla.s.sified cases. Santo was killed at the cafe when she'd met Gabriela.
Another preboarding call piped through the air.
Gannon had a story here. Every instinct told him he was on the right track. He had to keep digging but he needed help. He searched his e-mails for anything from Sarah Kirby's organization. He needed to see the complete set of doc.u.ments Maria Santo had obtained. He needed them now because he would have no Internet access on his nine-hour flight.
But nothing had arrived.
He checked his spam.
Nothing.
He checked his cell phone for any messages.