Hannah's Chance
Copyright© 2025 by jackmarlowe
Chapter 11
Hannah left her hotel and made her way to the convention center. Rossi had told her he would contact her again before she left Toronto, so that meant either today or tomorrow. While she waited, she would make the most of the trade fair and business summit she was attending.
She found the trade fair in full swing, just as it had been the day before. But it felt different today, since she was now attending not as a general visitor, but as an independent investment consultant. It was a thought that put a spring into her step and sharpened her focus.
She wandered between displays - banks showcasing their digital platforms, fintech startups demoing predictive-risk tools, a few bold ventures blending sustainability with finance. Every conversation, every overheard phrase about “strategic liquidity” or “data driven portfolios,” fed her curiosity. This was the world she belonged in - analytical, restless, alive with quiet ambition.
At one booth, a young analyst spoke passionately about algorithmic models for supply chain resilience. She listened, asked a few questions, and found herself sketching notes in the margins of her conference guide - ideas, gaps, opportunities. She could almost see how her future consultancy might fit into this landscape - a nimble outsider bridging strategy and intuition.
Toward the end of the day she attended an investment talk, where a speaker from Luxembourg outlined a new framework for cross-border fund transparency. Again she took notes, all information now more valuable than ever. Every insight she gained was potential leverage.
Her phone buzzed with a text. Alessandro Rossi. “Tonight at 8. Same restaurant.”
Hannah slipped the phone back into her purse. The summit’s closing keynote faded into background noise. She felt the weight of Rossi’s summons settle - not fear, but anticipation. This was the pivot point. Tonight, she’d cement her independence or expose its fragility.
She lingered near the Luxembourg speaker’s booth, absorbing the chatter about regulatory arbitrage opportunities. A man in a sharply tailored suit caught her eye, his gaze lingering a beat too long. Hannah offered a professional smile, nothing more. Her mind cataloged him - mid-forties with the restless energy of someone hunting leverage. Potential client, she noted silently. In fact every contact was a potential client now. The thought was exhilarating.
She resumed listening to the Luxembourg speaker’s words about “risk corridors” and “AI driven compliance tools,” every nugget of information she gained being filed away in her mind. It had been an interesting day, but now her thoughts turned to what the evening had in store.
At precisely seven forty-five that evening, Hannah stepped into the restaurant. The maître d’ recognized her immediately, guiding her past murmuring tables to the secluded booth where Rossi waited. He wasn’t alone. Beside him sat a woman with silver-streaked hair swept into a severe chignon, her eyes assessing Hannah like an undervalued asset. Rossi’s introduction was curt. “Julia Anderson. Former SEC enforcement, now heads due diligence for sovereign wealth funds.”
Julia didn’t offer her hand. “Rossi speaks highly of your ... unconventional methods.” Her tone implied a distaste for euphemisms. “He believes you can navigate transactions others deem radioactive.”
Hannah slid into the booth, her pulse steady. This wasn’t Rossi’s domain anymore, it was hers. “I specialize in assessing viability where traditional metrics fail,” she countered, matching Julia’s clinical detachment. “Risk is contextual. My job is to redefine the context.”
Julia’s gaze sharpened. “Define context.”
Hannah leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on the crisp linen. “Take Keller Biotech. Generally seen as a failing gene therapy pipeline. I saw a board frozen by previous poor manoeuvres and undervalued IP in biomarker validation. Context shifted the risk from salvage to strategic spin-off.” She kept her tone cool, factual. No bravado.
Julia tapped a manicured nail against her water glass. “Keller still needs to find fresh investment.” Her eyes didn’t leave Hannah’s face. “Your restructuring can’t be termed successful yet.”
Hannah didn’t blink. “Their biomarker validation completed last week. Creighton Bank holds the report.” She paused, letting the implication hang between them - Keller held a valuable asset. “The spin-off survives. It requires investment, but that’s a challenge it can meet.”
Julia’s expression remained impassive, but Rossi shifted almost imperceptibly beside her. Approval? Tension? Hannah couldn’t decipher it. A waiter arrived to take her order and for a moment she turned her attention to him.
Julia leaned forward, her voice lowering. “I have a client. A consortium exploring distressed mining assets in Bolivia. Political volatility, regulatory opacity, infrastructure gaps, environmental liabilities. Standard diligence flags it as catastrophic.” She paused, her gaze piercing. “My client sees opportunity. They need someone to validate that perspective. Someone who understands ... unconventional leverage.”
Hannah absorbed the details. High stakes. Tangled variables. Exactly the terrain Rossi had promised. “Validation requires more than spreadsheets,” Hannah stated. “It demands boots on the ground to understand the local power structures.” She met Julia’s eyes squarely. “I’d need unrestricted access and discretion.”
Julia’s lips thinned, but it wasn’t refusal. It was calculation. “Discretion is non-negotiable. Exposure would collapse the deal and damage reputations irreparably.” She slid a slim dossier across the table. “Initial brief. Names, locations, known liabilities. Your fee structure?”
Hannah didn’t touch the dossier yet. “After a thorough appraisal of the job, I’ll give you a figure. But I’ll need a twenty percent retainer upfront. Fifty upon delivery of preliminary assessment. Thirty upon final validation.” She held Julia’s stare. “No extra expenses. Travel, research, local facilitators, all included.”
Julia’s eyebrow arched fractionally. “Aggressive.”
“Accurate,” Hannah countered. “The risk premium reflects the exposure. Your client isn’t paying for data. They’re paying for insight that bypasses conventional filters.” She kept her hands folded, resisting the urge to grasp the dossier. Ownership started with discipline.
Julia studied her for a long moment, then gave a single, sharp nod. “Terms accepted in principle. Preliminary assessment due in fourteen days, including any moneys payable.” She rose, coat already draped over her arm. “Use the dossier’s encrypted link. Communicate only through designated channels. Rossi remains your liaison.” With that, she departed, leaving only the faint scent of vetiver behind.
Rossi exhaled, a low sound almost like admiration. “She eats junior analysts for breakfast. You held your ground.” He pushed the untouched breadbasket toward her. “Julia’s consortium moves billions. Succeed here, and doors open.”
Hannah finally picked up the dossier, its weight negligible but its significance immense. Thin paper, thick implications. She scanned the first page - lithium deposits, land conflicts, operational and logistical issues. “Why me, Alessandro? Former SEC chiefs don’t hire unknowns.”
Rossi swirled his bourbon. “Julia’s client wants deniability. My recommendation carried weight, but your Tanaka play convinced her. You turned a stalemate into opportunity after Layton Moreby had floundered.” He leaned closer, voice dropping. “They also know about Steiner.”
Hannah stiffened. The Tanaka board member’s demands - the kneeling, the vulnerability - were private currency. “How?”
“Steiner reported your ... resolve.” Rossi’s gaze held hers, unflinching. “Julia respects pragmatism. She knows what it takes to navigate shadows.” He tapped the dossier. “This is your proving ground. Fail, and Steiner’s patronage evaporates. Succeed, and sovereign wealth funds become your clients.”
Hannah absorbed the cold calculus. Her submission to Steiner wasn’t shameful leverage, it was collateral. She opened the dossier fully. Satellite images of arid highlands, protest camp coordinates, and a list of Bolivian officials, both local and national. The scale was dizzying. “Fourteen days isn’t due diligence. It’s triage.”
Rossi nodded. “Julia’s client has competitors circling. Speed defines advantage.” He slid a burner phone across the table. “Encrypted. Your sole channel. Contact ‘El Cóndor’ in La Paz - he handles ground logistics. Trust his intel, not his motives.”
Hannah pocketed the phone, her mind already dissecting the dossier’s sparse details. Salar de Uyuni lithium fields. Local Aymara blockade. Minister of Mining, Carlos Rivera. Each fact felt like a frayed wire crackling with hidden currents. “Rivera’s the key?” she asked, tracing the minister’s name with her fingertip.
“He could be.” Rossi shrugged. “It’s hard to know where he stands. The ministry of mining is prone to frequent policy shifts and has a history of opaque decision-making.”
Hannah’s mind raced. Fourteen days. Bolivia’s altitude, labyrinthine bureaucracy, volatile street protests - each a variable demanding precision. She’d need local eyes, ears she could trust implicitly. “El Cóndor’s reliability?”
Rossi’s smile was thin. “He’s survived three coups. His loyalty is to whoever pays fastest.” He slid a folded note across the linen. “Contact details. Discreet. Unaffiliated.”
Hannah glanced at the note and tucked it into her clutch. Her fingers brushed the burner phone’s cold casing. Fourteen days. The timeline compressed around her like a vise. “And if it’s not possible to get anywhere in the time allowed?”
“Improvise,” Rossi said flatly. “Julia’s client values resourcefulness, not excuses.” He signaled for the check, his movements brisk, transactional. The meeting was over. “Report progress on a regular basis, daily if possible. Silence may be interpreted as failure.”
Hannah didn’t linger. Outside, Toronto’s night air bit sharply as she hailed a cab. Inside the vehicle, she opened the dossier under the passing streetlights. Rivera was in a relationship with Isabella Vargas, who ran a boutique hotel in La Paz, “Casa de Luna.” This information didn’t appear to be anything useful, but the dossier went on to say that Vargas was known for her art acquisitions, which made Hannah wonder if she, or rather Rivera, had a hidden source of funding.
Back at her hotel, she spread the documents across the bed. Satellite images revealed campsites encircling the lithium site, probably protest camps ... She cross-referenced names - Aymara leader Mateo Quispe, flagged as “uncompromising.” Yet his file noted a brother imprisoned on dubious charges in Santa Cruz and awaiting trial. An opening. She would pursue it in the morning.
The next day she opened the dossier again, a dossier which felt like a key - not to Rossi’s world, but to her own. Her consultancy was now underway and she had no intention of turning back. She drafted her first encrypted message to El Cóndor: “I’d like to offer assistance to Quispe’s brother. Can we do anything to help get him released?”
The burner phone vibrated an hour later. El Cóndor’s reply was terse. “He was freed yesterday. The judge threw the case out.”
Hannah stared at the message, her plan thwarted. She’d have to try something more straightforward. She typed back. “Can we arrange a meeting with Quispe? Neutral ground.”
El Cóndor’s reply came faster this time. “Impossible. He won’t speak to outsiders, unless they’re bona fide journalists. Especially not gringas with mining consortium ties.”
Hannah paced her hotel room, the November day drab beyond the window. Quispe’s resistance was predictable. She scanned the dossier again, landing on a footnote - Quispe’s daughter attended university in Cochabamba. Linguistics major. Scholarship suspended last semester. Hannah’s fingers flew over the burner phone. “Can you find out what happened to Quispe’s daughter?”
Hannah left the hotel and made her way to the convention center. While waiting for a reply from El Cóndor and planning her next moves, she would make the most of the last day at the trade fair and business summit. She arrived there, deep in thought. It seemed clear that she would need to travel to Bolivia, so she would need to look into visa requirements.
She walked past the booths, her mind only half on the presentations around her. She was thinking about how she might approach Quispe’s daughter. If the scholarship suspension was due to financial hardship, that could be leverage. She paused at a booth advertising drone surveillance for remote sites - potentially useful for assessing the protest camps without direct confrontation. She took a brochure, mentally noting the contact.
The burner phone buzzed in her clutch. El Cóndor’s reply was characteristically blunt. “San Simón University. Missed deadline for tuition fees. Paid late.”
Hannah slipped the phone away, turning her attention to the drone booth. The salesman launched into his pitch about thermal imaging and perimeter mapping, but Hannah cut straight to practicality. “Can your systems take pictures without being seen?”
The salesman blinked. “We specialize in high resolution cameras, ma’am.”
“Fine.” She took a notepad from the stand and wrote her email address. “Send specs showing the capability of your best cameras.” She moved on before he could reply.
She continued to navigate the crowded convention hall, pausing near a booth showcasing conflict mineral tracking software. “Transparency from pit to port,” the presenter declared. Hannah lingered, noting the software’s potential relevance to the mission she was on.
“Broad Japanese equity in a single trade.” The presenter’s voice at a booth offering Nikkei futures cut through Hannah’s focus. She moved away, the lithium dossier’s demands tightening around her thoughts. Mateo Quispe’s blockade was the linchpin. Without neutralizing it, Julia’s client couldn’t access the lithium. And if Quispe’s daughter had now paid her tuition fees, there was no longer leverage to be gained there by offering to assist.
The summit’s crowds were thinning now, as the event drew to a close, but talk of copper contracts, cross-industry innovation, third-party endorsements still rang out. Hannah walked past a booth advertising ethical AI solutions for supply chains. An earnest young woman gestured toward a screen displaying cobalt mines. “Real-time monitoring ensures no child labor enters your value chain.”
Hannah paused and reflected. Ethical. The word felt slippery. Julia’s client didn’t want ethics, they wanted deniability. Yet the technology - remote verification - could be adapted. She took a brochure, her mind already stripping away the branding to its surveillance core.
It had been a useful day. As it came to an end, Hannah gathered brochures on blockchain traceability, encrypted satellite comms, and extraction technology - stripping each vendor pitch of its ethical veneer to assess raw utility. As she understood it, the lithium deposit lay beneath ancestral Aymara land. Quispe’s blockade wasn’t just protest, it was sovereignty. Julia’s client needed access, not justice. Hannah’s future path seemed complicated, intertwined with the protest camps, but her immediate path was a simple one - she was headed home.
Back in her own apartment, Hannah looked back over her trip to Toronto. It was Friday night and she’d only been away since Wednesday morning, but in that short time her life had been set in a new direction. Perhaps she was wildly optimistic to think she could work as an independent consultant, but her course was set now and she was ready to face the future.
She turned her attention to Bolivia. Before she could travel, she needed to understand the country better. She spent the weekend researching Bolivia’s political landscape, the lithium mining industry, and Aymara culture. The more she learned, the more complex the challenge appeared. The Salar de Uyuni wasn’t just a resource, it was sacred land. Mateo Quispe wasn’t merely a protester, he was a community leader defending ancestral rights. This wasn’t a simple business transaction - it was a collision of worlds.
On Monday morning, Hannah tried to formulate her way forward. She felt thwarted in her attempts to reach Quispe through his brother or his daughter, but needed to come up with something if she was going to assess what was likely to happen with the protests.
The burner phone chimed. El Cóndor. “Minister Rivera hosting gala at Palacio de Sal next Friday.” Hannah stared at the message. The Palacio de Sal was a hotel carved entirely from salt blocks near the lithium fields - Rivera wasn’t just hosting a party, he was flaunting proximity to the contested resource. Hannah’s visa wouldn’t be available in time, otherwise she would have tried to attend the event in order to observe power dynamics firsthand.
Tuesday brought more news, El Cóndor messaging again. Rivera’s gala guest list included a prominent Chinese lithium processor. The blockade remained intact, but Quispe had agreed to meet Rivera at the Palacio after the event. An interesting development. Direct negotiation between Quispe and Rivera could simplify things enormously or possibly worsen them.
Wednesday brought further developments. The media were reporting that Rivera had talked about offering incentives to the local communities in order to get the blockade lifted. Assuming that the reported comments were government policy, it was surely a positive sign. Even if they were only ideas being put forward, it was still a sign of serious intent to negotiate.
Hannah continued to study the dossier she’d been given, but was aware that it could only tell her so much, since she found herself in the middle of a developing news story. Besides, she was now so familiar with the geological surveys, government press releases, satellite imagery, and so on, that she was no longer learning very much by continuing to study them.