The Secret Heiress (18 page)

Frans unwrapped his package and looked down at the present, then looked up at her. “Why did you get this? You know I already have a Palm Pilot.”

“Yes,” she said, “but you don’t have one in platinum or with your initials on it.” She finished unwrapping hers and pressed some keys. “Besides, your old one is way outdated.”

“Well, it is outdated, but I hardly ever use it—”

“What I figured was,” she interjected, “we’d vow not to use these for anything except communicating with each other.”

“I like that idea,” Frans said, more enthusiastic. “In fact, I love that idea.”

“And they’re already activated,” Bianca declared. “Look.”

Frans watched her for a moment, then fiddled with his until he retrieved the message she’d just sent:
I love you.

“Whoa!” He grinned. “Hey, this is pretty cool!” He kissed her. “But you shouldn’t have done this.”

“But I did,” Bianca said. “Just remember.” She gazed into his eyes. “They’re not for anything except personal communication between
us
. Promise?”

Frans was silent while he tapped out a message.

Bianca retrieved it:
Cross my heart.
She looked up and smiled. “See? Now it doesn’t matter if I’m stuck in Timbuktu. We can send messages back and forth.”

Frans gazed at her adoringly. “You really are too much,” he said. “You know that?”

“Yep.” She grinned. “I probably am.”

“I mean, you’re, like, totally
crazed,
Bianca.” He hugged her tightly.

“I’m totally crazed about
you,
” she emphasized. “I can hardly wait to get home with you and rip your shirt right off of you.”

“And I can’t wait for you to do it,” he replied.

Bianca drew back from him and tapped out a message.

Frans looked down and retrieved it:
Then why are we sitting here? What do you say we skip dinner and go have great sex?
He looked up at her. “I would love to,” he said.

A
drian Single and two security men rushed into a waiting car at the airport in Lima, Peru, taking them to the site of a toxic-waste plant several miles south of the city. The security men, Jeff Austin and Bill Cawley, were dressed as he was—dark suit, tie, and highly polished shoes—but they were highly trained guards armed with automatic revolvers. Adrian didn’t know what to expect when they arrived.

As they neared the plant, he found himself repulsed by the devastation of the landscape. There didn’t appear to be a living plant or animal as far as the eye could see.

Jeff said, “It’s a damn lunar landscape.”

Adrian nodded in agreement, his gaze riveted to the nightmarish atmosphere outside his window.

“Je-sus!” Bill cried. “Look at that!”

“What is it?” Adrian asked.

“Over there,” Bill said, pointing a finger on his side of the car. “A dog with its paws wrapped up in rags. What the hell?”

Adrian saw a skinny dog limping toward them, all four of its paws swathed in rags tied in place with cord. Then he saw three more dogs, straggling along behind it. They, too, had their feet wrapped.

“What’s that all about?” Jeff asked.

“The earth is poisoned. They can’t walk on it without burning their feet,” Hector, the driver, said.

“What? Are you kidding me?” Bill said.

“No.” Hector shook his head. “Nobody can walk barefoot around here. The closer you get to the plant, the worse it gets.”

Adrian felt a sour splash in his stomach. The landscape, the dogs—the entire scenario was repellent. He had known from the beginning that the toxic-waste facility might pose problems to the environment, and for that reason he’d discouraged Nikoletta from pursuing the purchase. When she went ahead and bought it anyway, he had read reports from the plant manager regarding environmental hazards, and he’d thought they were hyperbolic. When he’d consulted with Nikoletta about the matter, she’d claimed to have personally talked to government regulators in Peru and resolved any issues relating to the environment. Now he wondered how honest she’d been with him or what kind of bribes she paid Peruvian regulators.

As the car approached the facility, automobiles and trucks lined both sides of the road, and a steady trickle of demonstrators, mostly men, but even women and children among them, came and went from the plant’s gates. The closer the car got, the slower it had to move as the trickle became a crowd. Finally, the car had to come to a crawl. The road was clogged with demonstrators.

A woman, screaming loudly, her eyes blazing with fury, rushed toward the car. She held a baby aloft and shoved its feet and then its hands toward the window next to which Adrian sat. He couldn’t understand a word the woman was screeching, but he could clearly see what appeared to be burns on the baby’s hands and feet.

“Damn,” Jeff said, “that’s disgusting.”

As the car reached the gates, Adrian noticed Mother Earth’s Children activists among the demonstrators. The militants were hard to miss with their familiar green armbands centered by an upraised black fist.
Oh, no,
he thought.
This could mean real trouble.
Some of them were teenagers, but others were well into their twenties and thirties and even older, as evidenced by their hair. They wore everything from dreadlocks to shaved heads to green-tinted Mohawks to white hair pulled back into buns. Mother Earth’s Children wouldn’t listen to reason, and they would make negotiating a lot more difficult.

Directly in front of the car, the gates into the facility were blocked by demonstrators, but the driver persevered, laying on the horn, and finally the tide parted, allowing the guards to open the gates and let them through. Plant workers on the inside had joined the demonstration, and the route to the office building was lined with an unruly mob, shaking their fists at the car and throwing stones.

“Hang on,” Hector said, and he stomped on the gas pedal. The car jumped the curb that separated the parking area from the concrete apron in front of the office building, and the driver headed straight for the glass doors that led inside. Just before reaching them, he spun the wheel to the left, fishtailing the rear end around so that the passenger side of the car was no more than a few feet from the doors. On the opposite side of the glass, they saw two armed guards, weapons drawn.

“Close as I can get,” the driver said.

“Very good,” Adrian said, already opening his door. “Could you come with us to translate? Just as far as inside the doors?”

Hector shrugged. “Sure, why not?” he said, as if the dangers presented by the mob didn’t frighten him in the least.

“Ready, guys?” Adrian asked, looking toward both Jeff and Bill.

“You bet, boss,” Jeff said. He slipped his revolver out of its holster. Bill already had his out, and his hand was ready to shove his door open.

“Let’s go,” Adrian said, pushing his door open at the same time.

The men leaped out of the car at the same time and rushed to the doors to the office building, but the guards shook their heads, refusing to open them.

Hector yelled at them in Spanish, and after the guards exchanged a few words, they unlocked one of the doors and opened it a couple of inches. Adrian grabbed it and slipped inside, closely followed by the other men. One of the guards locked the door behind them.

“Tell me what this is all about,” Adrian said to one of the guards.

The man stared at him uncomprehendingly.

Hector repeated the question in Spanish and listened to the guard’s reply. “No raises and the working conditions,” he said. “Also, because word has leaked out that there’s a shipment of uranium about to arrive.”

“Where do they have Nikoletta?” Adrian asked.

Again, Hector spoke to the guards. “In the plant manager’s office on the third floor.”

“Let’s go,” Adrian said, leading the way to the elevator. “Hector, please be ready to leave.”

The men crowded into the small elevator car and went up to the top floor of the building. When they exited, they found a small knot of nearly hysterical secretaries and several men in suits.

“Where’s the boss?” Adrian asked.

One of the secretaries pointed down the hallway, and Adrian led the way to an open door. Inside the large office, Nikoletta sat at a large desk with two executives. They were surrounded by a crowd of men in soiled work clothes, who wheeled around and glared at Adrian and his bodyguards.

“Adrian!” Nikoletta shouted, jumping out of the chair and rushing toward him. “I thought you’d never get here.”

He hugged her, even though he was furious with her. She’d called him to come to her rescue after being taken hostage at the plant. He glanced about the office. “Senor Mori.” He nodded to the plant manager, whom he’d met only very briefly once.

“Mr. Single,” Mori said. “Like I told Ms. Papadaki, I’m very sorry about this disturbance. We had no—”

“Forget it,” Adrian said. “It’s not your fault, Senor Mori.” He addressed the workers. “Who’s your leader?”

When there was no response, Senor Mori pointed to an older man dressed in a filthy uniform. “This man,” he said. “Luis Perez.”

Perez stepped forward, his chin lifted proudly.

“Do you speak English?” Adrian asked.

Perez knew enough to shake his head no.

“Senor Mori,” Adrian said, “would you kindly translate for me?”

“Of course,” the man replied.

“I want to know what the workers’ demands are,” Adrian said, “and their reasons for them.” He had an idea of what to expect, but he didn’t want to make idle promises. A situation this serious demanded a serious negotiation.

From outside, they could hear the increasingly raucous crowd. Adrian was momentarily stunned to hear chanting in English begin to blare from speakers. “Burn down the office building. Burn it down.” Over and over, the crowd of demonstrators shouted the chant. Mother Earth’s Children, he thought grimly.

“The men are demanding safer working conditions,” Senor Mori said, translating for Luis Perez, “and a cleanup of the entire facility and surrounding area. That is number one.”

Adrian nodded. “Go ahead,” he said.

“The recent explosion,” Mori continued to translate. “It would not have happened if the equipment was upgraded.”

“I understand,” Adrian said.

“Add to that the way the men were treated when it happened.” Mori shrugged, speaking for himself. “What do you expect? The plant was not shut down as requested. Instead, workers were locked in so they couldn’t leave.”

“What else?” Adrian asked.

“Better pay,” Mori said. “No one has had a raise in four years. The men thought that would change when PPHL bought the facility, but conditions have only gotten worse. The men complain they are being treated like animals.”

“You don’t—” Nikoletta began, but Adrian gave her hand a hard squeeze.

“Let Senor Mori finish,” he said sternly.

Nikoletta frowned but kept silent.

“Burn down the office building! Burn it down!” The chants grew louder and louder.

“Do you have a PA system?” Adrian asked. “One that works outside?”

“What is this,
PA system
?” Mori asked.

One of the men quickly translated for Senor Mori.

Mori shook his head. “No. But we do have bullhorns like they’re using outside.”

“Where are they?” Adrian asked.

Mori exchanged a few words in Spanish with one of the executives who sat near him. “They’re in a storage closet on the ground floor. I can send someone for them.”

“Good. Do that,” Adrian said.

Mori issued the order to the executive, and the young man reluctantly rose to his feet and left the room.

“Do you have access to the roof from up here?” Adrian asked.

“Yes,” Senor Mori said, “but why?”

“Because I want to speak to the demonstrators, and that’s the best place I can think of,” Adrian replied. “They’ll be able to hear me inside and outside the gates.”

“If you can ever shut them up,” Nikoletta said.

Adrian squeezed her hand again. “I think we can get them to listen,” he said. “Will you come with me and my men, Senor Perez? And you, Senor Mori?” he asked. “The men will recognize Senor Perez as one of their own, and he can translate for me. Of course, you’re highly recognizable, Senor Mori, and maybe if you’re there, along with Senor Perez, they’ll believe what I have to say.”

Mori nodded. “Of course,” he replied, “but do you think that’s a good idea? Someone in the crowd could be armed. We don’t know for sure.”

“We’ll have to take that chance,” Adrian said.

The young executive returned holding two large yellow bullhorns, one in each hand.

Adrian took the bullhorns and handed one to Senor Perez. “Ready?” he asked.

Perez nodded.

“Follow me,” Senor Mori said.

Adrian turned to Nikoletta. “You sit down here and don’t say one word,” he told her in a threatening voice. “Not a single word.”