Coffee (51 page)

“No!
They are done! Let go of me!”

Milpeau
threw back his head. “So this
was
your doing! What
have you done to us! I, for one, will die for this!”

Anna
looked on with nervous interest as Etty explained. “Milpeau.
We don’t have much time. You will be swarming with Brazilian
officials any minute. That storage facility contained enough crop
poison to ruin nearly every coffee producing country in the world.
You must have known that.”

Anna’s
eyes flashed. “Did you Milpeau? Did you know of this?”

Milpeau
frowned. “I knew the cans contained something important, yes,
but I knew nothing of poison!”

“And
you must have known Clorice murdered President Barros.”

Anna’s
head fell, and Milpeau also turned less hostile. Anna spoke with
eyes lowered. “We are ashamed, Ittie. The Meneer spoke of a
painful death to any who said words of this. We do not join with
him in his deed.”

Milpeau
regained composure. “But now his body has been destroyed. You
have ruined everything. Why should I believe your story of poison?”

“Clorice
told me himself. He thought I was about to die.”

A
pounding explosion cracked the air. Etty gasped. She pushed up on
her toes and stretched her neck toward the blast in a futile effort
for a better view. Black smoke appeared above the trees. Milpeau
placed the source. “That’s over the north east corner
of the island. A jet crashed, or someone’s been shot down.”

“Milpeau!”
Etty’s voice rasped, and her eyes became glassy with tears.
“You must send some guards there! See what has happened!”

“Someone
you know flew these?”

“Yes.
Maybe yes.” Heavy breathing choked her words. “Milpeau,
send someone! He may need a boat if he ejected into the sea.”
She paused to think, then straightened up. “If there is an
American, have him brought right to Clorice, where we will be. Do
not let anyone else take him, and please, make sure he is not
harmed.”

Milpeau
could hardly process the rush of events. Etty continued, “And
as I said, take me now to Clorice. Let him decide what to do with
me, and the other man if he is alive. Please ask no further
questions. This is all I wish.”

Anna
stepped back while keeping sad eyes on Etty, indicating she knew her
husband must bear the authority in these issues. New waves of
people crowded into the area replacing those who fled, to gawk at
the smoldering remains of the building. Milpeau’s concern for
those near the deep hole forced a decision. “I must make sure
you carry no weapons.”

Anna
stepped in front of him. “I will do that!” Anna
lightly frisked her. “She has nothing, of course.”

Milpeau
yielded. “I will do these things, with your promise to stay
with me, and willingness to present yourself to authorities.”

“If
it comes to that, I do. I promise,” she answered sincerely.

Milpeau
addressed the crowd. “Step back! Get away from there!”
He gathered a few guards. “Keep everyone away, especially
from the building - there may be more explosions.” Anna
found onlookers to tend to the injured guard and the two others.
Milpeau gave instructions to a group of guards who ran off to the
north east. Then he joined Anna to escort Etty to the mansion.

As
they started up the dirt drive, they heard sounds from a squadron of
approaching helicopters. Etty picked up the pace. “We must
hurry.”

Anna
pulled a handkerchief from her purse as they trotted along, spit on
it, and wiped the dirt from Etty’s face and hair. “Oh,
look at you, Miss Ittie. You are such a mess.”

Etty
turned to Milpeau. “You are a lucky man to have such a wife.”
Anna looked on with a mixed frown and smile. “Milpeau?”
Etty continued, more seriously, “You may see and hear some
surprising things from me in there.”

“There
is nothing new in that, Miss Bishop.”

“Hear
me through, before you judge.”

“He
will. I promise you that, Ittie,” Anna said with a new scowl.

Clorice
stood in the entryway of the mansion, shouting orders at a group of
scurrying workers. He intermittently yelled into a wireless phone.
When he saw the unlikely trio walking toward him, both arms fell to
his sides. For the first time since Etty met John Clorice, he was
nearly speechless.

“Hello,
John,” Etty said through tight lips.

“Why
... I thought you were ... You might as well stand right there, and
wait to be carted away to prison,” was all he could think of.

“You
might want to hear me out first.” They walked up the front
steps. Clorice tried to find answers in the faces of Milpeau and
Anna, but both looked aside. More servants and guards surrounded
them, some with rifles. The helicopters were close enough to see
through the trees. Above their engines, now sirens could be heard
approaching the gates.

“Talk
then. Do it fast.”

“No,
I’d like to be alone with you, in your study. If you knew
what I have to tell you, you’d agree.”

Clorice
didn’t appreciate having to accommodate this woman any more
than he already had, but he agreed with a ‘humph.’ “Not
without Milpeau. I refuse to be alone with you, especially if
you’re behind the brutal destruction of my property!”

He
slammed the screen door open, and blew into the house, huffing with
indignation. Etty followed with Milpeau close behind. Once in his
office, he whipped around, leaned up against his desk, and crossed
his arms. “Well? Be hasty. You will be dragged away any
moment.”

Etty
purposely prolonged her movements to hold an awkward silence while
she slowly removed the folded papers from her pocket. “I have
a proposition to make.”

“You
are in no position to ask anything. I have officials landing on my
lawn this minute I must attend to. If you came here to ask
something of me, ridiculous! Milpeau, take her away.”

“Let
me begin by saying,” she said while looking toward Milpeau,
“that John Clorice ruined my father’s business, and
pushed him into bankruptcy. I suspect he was behind my father’s
death. My mother was left with nothing, forced to flee to the
United States in shame.” Milpeau nodded, sad and embarrassed.

“You’ll
have a lot of time in our stinking prisons to think about that,
won’t you, Miss Bishop. Milpeau!”

Milpeau
defiantly held still.

“You
might not be so wise to send me to jail.” She raised a page
of her pile. “As we speak, your complete file on the AL5
program is heading for Washington D.C. Here’s a piece from
it.” She handed it to him. “If you look behind you in
that drawer, you’ll see the rest is missing.”

Clorice
sat back, awkwardly readjusting his position. She dipped into her
breast pocket and surfaced a sand like substance. “The
courier also has a sample of the tainted fertilizer.” She let
it filter through her fingers onto the rug. “The disease they
find in there will look a little odd, don’t you think?”

“Why
have you done this?” he said, lost for other words.

“I’m
just getting started.”

A
servant knocked and opened the door. “Meneer, some government
officials are here to see you. They followed the explosion, and are
concerned for the President of Brazil’s safety.”

“Tell
them I’ll be a moment.”

“They
are demanding to see you now, Sir.”

He
shouted, “I said I’ll be a moment! Go!”

Etty
looked through the open door and saw Bryce, being held by two
guards. His face was blackened, and his clothes dripping wet.
“Bryce!” she shouted. “Bring him here!”
Clorice moved to close the door, but Milpeau nodded approval to the
guards and pulled Bryce in before Clorice could react. Etty wrapped
her arms around him, oblivious of the wetness.

Clorice
grunted. “How convenient. I believe we have just captured
the brains and brawn behind the bombing. Was that a stolen military
helicopter you were flying, Sir?” he asked caustically.

One
of the guards who had held Bryce whispered to Milpeau before leaving
the room. Etty pulled away from Bryce and introduced. “This
is Bryce Applegate from the United States Federal Bureau of
Investigation. He’s here to bring news of this meeting back
to our State Department.”

Bryce
looked confused. Clorice brushed it aside. “More likely,
he’ll be providing company for you in prison. The screaming
you hear at night might be someone you know.”

“Meneer,”
Milpeau interrupted. Clorice shot a disgusted glance at him. “The
guards inform me that the Army destroyed the pilot who attacked our
facility, presumably a rebel flyer from the south trying to
assassinate President Barros. This man here could not be the
bomber. Two Brazilian pilots witnessed the downing. They have also
inspected this man’s identification, and confirmed he is from
the American Government.” Milpeau’s allegiance was
shifting.

Etty
raised an eyebrow toward Bryce, then returned to Clorice. “Your
threats are meaningless, John. Let me continue. You’ve
orchestrated a reprehensible injustice on the people of Brazil.
You’ve created unrest, pitting a proud people against itself,
all for personal gain.”

A
smile inched up Bryce’s face. Milpeau clenched a fist behind
him, wanting to urge her on.

Etty
stood firm against Clorice. “You’re going to turn
yourself into the authorities and admit to the fraudulent
communiqués. The Barros family at least deserves their good
name returned.”

“Outrageous!
I’ll do nothing of the sort!”

“And
if you don’t comply, I will ask Milpeau here to testify
against you.”

Milpeau’s
eyes popped open. Clorice growled, “And submit to his own
suicide? Your naiveté shocks me.”

“I’ll
provide him immunity, as President of this company.”

Now
all three men faced her with surprise. Etty straightened the creases
from the Employment Contract she’d had folded in her pocket.
She held it up so all could see her signature next to Clorice’s.
“It’s true, appointed by the Chairman and owner
himself.”

Even
Bryce couldn’t believe it. “You’re kidding!
President?”

“That’s
right. I won’t do it alone, I’ll get help,
professionals from the industry, former executives, consultants.
But if John Clorice hasn’t destroyed all chances of recovery,
I’ll bring it back.”

Clorice
laughed. “This circus is over. Milpeau, call the guards. Go
attend to our Government guests.”

Etty
pulled out the pager pen. “We have pictures of the frozen
Barros as well. Lots of them, in a number of revealing poses. They
too are on route to the States.”

Clorice
held up a hand to stop Milpeau, even though he hadn’t moved.
Etty waved the pen. “If you go out there now and admit to
your fraudulent Presidential bid, you’ll face some serious
slander charges, and attempted treason. But since the bombing
destroyed the evidence of murdering the President, you might avoid
the death penalty. You don’t comply? I release the photos,
and the fertilizer plan. You’ll suffer a horrible state
sponsored execution, in front of the world.”

“
You
release them? I’ll have you put down like a pound animal.”

Etty
pulled the top from the pen, revealing the array of buttons. “If
a day goes by without the United States receiving my coded
transmission with this satellite communication device, my contact is
instructed to release the pictures and the tainted fertilizer to the
world. You destroy me, you’ll last twenty four hours.”
Shouting reached a new level in the outer room. “If I were
you, I’d prepare your statement for the officials. I want
complete admission on your phony Presidential press releases.”

Clorice
hissed, “I’ll kill you myself before I let you do this.”
He opened a drawer in his desk, revealing a pistol.

A
Brazilian army officer plowed through the door shouting, “You
must lead us to Barros!” Bryce simultaneously lurched forward
to protect Etty. Clorice jerked the gun up to aim, flustered by the
sudden explosion of movement around the room. In the chaos, he
fired a haphazard shot, splintering the bones in the Army officer’s
forearm with a splash of blood. Anna, hearing the blast from the
main room, threw herself through the door. She pushed aside the
wounded guard to see Clorice now pointing the gun at Etty. “Stop
him! Stop him! He’ll kill us all!” Anna screamed.

More
military personnel swarmed through the door. Shots rang out.
Clorice began shooting wildly in every direction. Anna’s
screams intensified. Rapid fire from an automatic rifle consumed
the office. Then silence, except for the tinkering of bullet
casings spinning on the wooden floors.

Clorice
lay on his back, feet up on the far side of his desk, thrown over
the top from the impact of multiple bullets in his chest. Bryce
remained standing with his arms still in the air where they had held
Clorice’s shoulder only seconds before. Anna groaned face
down in front of Etty, a red splotch spreading on her shirt near the
left shoulder. Milpeau and Etty stooped fearfully. The military
guard clutched a bloody hand on his upper arm.

Anna
nodded to Milpeau that she would be ok, and whispered for him to
address the room. He stood and faced the now crowded doorway full
of officials.

“I
can explain,” he said to the angry soldiers as sincerely as a
preacher. “I have proof that for the last few weeks, John
Clorice fabricated the civil war creating memos to Brasilia.”
A wave of gasping silenced the room. “I had just informed
him, and our new President Harriet Bishop, that I would bring
charges to the authorities.” The officers sized up the blue
jean wearing Etty with surprise. “Mr. Clorice reacted
violently to the accusation, and brandished his weapon.”