Hannah's Chance
Copyright© 2025 by jackmarlowe
Chapter 12
The Minister of Mining’s office was spacious but not ostentatious. Maps of the Andean lithium triangle covered one wall, and a shelf behind the desk held mineral samples glinting under recessed light. Minister Rivera had greeted Hannah warmly, his English precise but accented, and now sat behind his desk, a printed copy of Hannah’s email proposal in front of him.
“The first thing we have to be clear on,” he said, tapping the document, “is that this initiative requires state participation. In Bolivia we favor foreign ventures into our natural resources only if the state retains majority control. Fifty-one percent ownership.”
Hannah kept her expression neutral. “Minister Rivera, the technology partners have to find enormous investment to make this proposal viable and need full ownership in return. And it’s not just the investment, it’s the expertise they supply, without which there’s no guarantee of performance metrics.” She leaned forward slightly. “Imagine being able to announce Bolivia’s first water-positive lithium mine. A solution born here, solving our crisis.”
Rivera’s eyes narrowed. “Ownership is non-negotiable. The resources belong to Bolivia.”
“Then let’s structure it as a licensing agreement,” Hannah countered smoothly. “The state retains majority control but pays in full to lease DLE technology from an international consortium. You demonstrate both sovereignty and innovation.” She paused, letting the image settle. “Picture the headlines. Bolivia Pioneers Ethical Lithium Extraction. Global investors lining up, protests silenced by results.”
Rivera drummed his fingers on the desk, the rhythmic tap echoing in the austere office. “And Quispe? His lawsuits could derail everything.”
“The lawsuits target water diversion,” Hannah replied, her voice steady. “DLE eliminates ninety percent of that diversion.” She paused for a moment. “Let’s start at the beginning. Reyes’ mine becomes your showcase site - fully monitored by your ministry. Show Quispe the pilot data. Even offer him a seat on the oversight committee. Turn his opposition into endorsement.” She saw the interest grow in Rivera’s eyes - the allure of neutralizing his most potent critic through progress, not force.
Rivera leaned back, looking thoughtful. “The consortium. Who leads it?”
“A Swiss sustainable tech fund,” Hannah lied smoothly, naming Rossi’s preferred shell entity. “They specialize in high-impact environmental solutions.” She saw the calculation behind his eyes - foreign capital without foreign control. “Their condition is exclusive first-mover rights for scaling DLE nationally post-pilot.”
Rivera’s gaze sharpened. “Exclusivity? That invites monopoly.”
“Temporary,” Hannah assured him. “Just long enough to recoup their investment. Once proven, Bolivia owns the blueprint - license it to anyone.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “You unveil this, water saved, communities united, the world sees Bolivia leading.”
Rivera studied a chunk of lithium ore on his desk, its crystalline surface catching the light. “I’m prepared to agree to lease DLE technology, but on one important condition. The leasing fee must be payable not by the day or the month, but by each ton of lithium produced.”
Hannah froze. Pay-as-you-produce - a cunning move on his part and a poison pill. Investors wanted predictable costs, not royalties bleeding profits dry. “Minister, that arrangement transfers all risk to the consortium. They front capital for equipment, installation, training—”
“And Bolivia pays only for successful extraction,” Rivera interrupted, palms flat on his desk. “Fair compensation for our resources.”
“On the surface, yes. But pay-as-you-produce always sounds fairer than it is. Investors want predictable costs and if they haven’t got predictable costs they’ll have to price in the uncertainty - at your expense.”
Rivera frowned slightly. “How so?”
Hannah leaned forward, her tone measured but confident. “They’re taking on what looks like volume risk - the risk that you produce less than expected. But they don’t do that for free. They build it into their pricing, often charging a premium that makes your per-unit cost higher than it would be under a fixed lease. You end up paying more over time for the illusion of fairness.”
He looked skeptical. “But it still protects us if production is low.”
“True,” she said, nodding. “But it punishes you the moment production stabilizes. You lose the upside. A fixed lease means you lock in your costs and keep every extra tonne of lithium as profit. Pay-as-you-produce means you share your success - forever.”
Rivera’s eyes narrowed, his confidence in his position clearly dissipating. “You’re saying the investor always wins.”
“Exactly. They win whether you produce well or not. If the mine underperforms, their premium cushions them. If it thrives, they capture additional financial reward. You end up overpaying for your own success.”
The minister stood, walked to the window, and looked out over the rooftops of La Paz, seemingly deep in thought. Eventually he turned back. “Very well, Señorita Hartwell. I agree to your initiative - in principle. But I’ll need specifics before making any commitments.”
“Of course, Minister,” Hannah replied. “I’ll ask the consortium to prepare a detailed proposal and submit it to you directly. It’ll cover all points of the pilot scheme together with the financials for the subsequent expansion of the DLE technology. Let’s see what you can build together.”
As she arrived back at her hotel, Hannah felt a thrill at having attended a meeting which could shape government policy and influence international investment. For someone who had been abruptly dismissed from her employment less than six weeks ago, she felt it was a dizzying achievement, but at the same time she knew her work wasn’t done yet. She still had to prepare her final assessment and fully outline the agreement she’d made with Rivera.
She typed slowly, knowing that she had to get this report exactly right. She laid out again that water was the key issue. Traditional evaporation ponds used massive amounts of water, which had led Indigenous rights groups to file lawsuits against the mines. She then explained that there was a technological fix - Direct Lithium Extraction (DLE). This cut water use by up to ninety percent.
This was real opportunity. The investment required was considerable, but it would provide much more efficient lithium production whilst protecting the land and the people. Investors would have to accept the state taking a fifty-one percent stake, but that would still mean a good return, which would be enhanced by leasing the DLE units to COMIBOL, the state mining company.
She noted infrastructure concerns, about poor roads and unreliable electricity, but these were already being addressed. She then outlined the pilot scheme agreed with Rivera and Reyes, moving on to the plan to scale DLE nationally, for which the investors would get a period of exclusivity. She concluded by saying that Minister of Mines Rivera was expecting their full proposal.
Hannah read the document several times. She felt happy with it, but decided to send it to El Cóndor for a second opinion. He found no fault with it, but suggested a few additions, such as including the fact that the water currently used by the mines was fifteen times the area’s annual rainfall. Hannah was grateful and thanked him for all the assistance he’d given her over the last three weeks.
She made the suggested additions and clicked send. With nothing left to do in Bolivia, she booked a flight home. That evening, allowing herself some time to relax, she realised something unexpected. She felt ... invested. Not in consultancy work or business dealings, but in the idea that her actions in Bolivia were helping to solve a major problem and could improve people’s lives.
The following day dawned with no reply from Rossi. She checked out of her hotel, finding the desk clerk quite talkative. “Did you know that La Paz is the highest altitude capital city in the world?”
“Yes I read that when I was researching Bolivia,” Hannah replied, handing over her keycard.
Her phone buzzed with a text. Alessandro Rossi. “Report received.”
Hannah boarded her La Paz to Bogota flight, the first of four flights she would take to get home. The text’s brevity had been gnawing at her and still was. Rossi’s usual flamboyance had evaporated. Had she overstepped? Her assessment demanded eye-watering capital - millions for unproven tech in a politically volatile country. She’d promised Rivera and Reyes meaningful results and water justice. One misstep on her part could unravel it all.
The next morning she arrived in Fort Lauderdale. Just one more flight and she’d be home. There was still nothing further from Rossi, but she had a call from Maria, inviting her to a Christmas party. She readily agreed to attend, very much looking forward to seeing her again.
It was only when she was finally home that Rossi made contact. “Good afternoon, Hannah,” he said. “Your Bolivian report has ... stirred interest.”
Hannah gripped her phone tighter. “Interest?”
“The consortium’s chairman read your assessment,” Rossi replied, his voice unnervingly flat. “He’s already organizing the proposal to Rivera, although the investment required is significantly more than had been anticipated.”
Hannah paced her living room, the silence stretching taut. “But the opportunity justifies it. The water savings alone—”
“The chairman agrees,” Rossi interrupted. “But raising the amount of money required is going to be a challenge.”
Hannah sank onto her sofa, the worn leather sighing under her. “Is this going to delay the proposal?”.
“No, the proposal’s going ahead. It’s the implementation that could be delayed. Assuming Rivera accepts, of course.”
Hearing the words “if Rivera accepts,” Hannah pictured the minister’s shrewd eyes scanning consortium terms, weighing political fallout against water savings. “What’s the chairman’s timescale? For raising the funds?”
“Six months,” Rossi said. “If Rivera signs within thirty days.”
“That long?” said Hannah, dismayed.
“We’ll make it quicker if we can. I’ll keep you posted on progress.”
Rossi’s abrupt hang-up left Hannah staring at her phone’s black screen. She felt a mixture of relief and elation at the news that her report had been received so positively, but at the same time felt despair that it was going to take such a long time for the project to advance.
Six months? She’d achieved so much in Bolivia in just one week in the country, and now she had to wait six months for her vision to be realized. Her fingers drummed the sofa’s armrest, tracing the cracked leather like a map. Rivera needs this now. Reyes needs this now. Quispe’s people need this now. Surely there was a way forward that would take less than six months.
Maria’s Christmas party invitation glowed on her calendar. Networks, Hannah thought. Shirley hadn’t just charmed investors, she’d woven them into a tapestry of mutual benefit. She started going through the contacts she’d made in the last five months, running them through her mind. One name blinked like a beacon. Klaus Steiner.
Hannah opened her laptop and searched online. Klaus Steiner was easy to find, a prominent Swiss banker and well known authority on Renaissance manuscripts. She immediately typed him a message. “I may have an opportunity in sustainable lithium mining, promising long term returns, but requiring swift capital. Can we talk?”
Steiner’s reply came the following morning. “You have my attention, Ms. Hannah. Call me.”
His voice crackled through her phone speaker as she paced her kitchen, coffee cooling on the counter. “Swift capital? Define swift.”
Hannah was uncertain on how to reply. “How about thirty days?” she said hopefully, tracing condensation rings on the laminate. “The consortium I’m dealing with needs six months to raise the full funds. That’s way too long.”
Steiner chuckled softly. “Six months? That’s durn tooting slow. For the right opportunity? Three weeks.”
Hannah gripped the edge of her countertop. “Three weeks? You’re serious?”
“Deadly,” Steiner replied. “But only if the numbers bleed green. Send me the consortium’s projections and the pilot specs. I’ll run them through my models.”
Hannah immediately messaged Rossi, asking him for the figures that the consortium had come up with. On receiving the requested information, she forwarded it to Steiner, along with a copy of her final assessment, to give him the complete picture. She imagined Steiner’s analysts dissecting water reduction ratios and political risk premiums, but because of the time difference she knew she wouldn’t hear anything back until after the weekend.
It was Tuesday when her phone buzzed with Steiner’s call. “Your Bolivia numbers sing, Hannah. Water savings? Divine. Political exposure? Manageable. But the consortium’s financing structure? Amateur hour. They’re pricing risk like accountants counting paperclips.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Steiner said, “they’ve bundled political volatility premiums into interest rates like amateurs stuffing attachers into a medieval manuscript. Crude. Wasteful. My team proposes securitizing water savings as standalone assets. Quantify every liter preserved - turn ecological gains into tradeable bonds. Investors salivate over ESG derivatives now.”
“Would Rivera’s government accept that? They want sovereignty, not Wall Street slicing their rivers into derivatives.”
Steiner snorted. “Sovereignty is expensive. My bonds guarantee upfront cash for Reyes’ pilot - no six months begging tour. The consortium gets paid when Bolivia gets wet.” Hannah heard papers shuffle. “Your assessment mentions that they need funds for DLE units. I’ll provide bridge financing at nine percent interest, secured against future water bond proceeds. Consortium repays me when bonds launch.”
“Rivera would need to approve these bonds,” Hannah countered.
“He’ll approve,” Steiner replied. “Because you’ll frame it as Bolivia owning the water metrics - the bonds just monetize their stewardship. Like carbon credits, but wetter.” His tone shifted, velvet over steel. “Now, my fee. Three percent of the bridge financing.”
“The consortium has to approve that. If they do approve it, when can Rivera see the proposal?”
“Friday, assuming the consortium’s ready by then,” Steiner replied. “They would need to sign the agreement, but we can do that digitally if necessary, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Hannah ended the call, adrenaline humming. She forwarded Steiner’s terms to Rossi immediately, adding: “Bridge financing proposal. Requires consortium approval and Rivera’s bond sign-off. Can present jointly Friday?” Her thumb pressed send.
Rossi’s reply arrived ninety minutes later. “Consortium chair not interested in those terms. A three percent fee is too high for a nine percent loan.”
Hannah stared at her phone, the leather sofa suddenly feeling like cold marble. This was a setback, but she couldn’t allow her plan to crumble. She texted Rossi again. “Chairman’s shortsighted. Steiner’s bridge financing gets the pilot immediately. If we have to wait six months a lot could change in that time. Fee is negligible against upside. Re-engage him.”
She had to wait until the following day for a reply. “The fee might be acceptable for the right deal. Nine percent isn’t the right deal.”
Hannah considered that perhaps she ought to leave the consortium alone now and let them plot their own course in Bolivia. Her final assessment was with them, her task accomplished, her mission fulfilled. However, she felt so personally invested in the matter, and had come to care so much about the outcome, that she couldn’t bring herself to just walk away.
Her phone buzzed with a text. Maria Wallington. “Christmas party on Friday - still coming? Your old friend Alex will be here.” Hannah hesitated, then typed. “Yes. Tell Alex to prep lithium-water derivatives.” Maria’s party became suddenly critical. Not for eggnog, but because Alex might be able to help.
Maria’s penthouse glittered like a quartz geode split open, all sharp angles and refractive surfaces. Hannah arrived early, clutching a folder of Steiner’s terms, and was warmly greeted by Maria. “It’s good to see you and I’m pleased that things are going well for you.”
Alex materialized beside the ice sculpture, a glacial abstraction leaking cold vapor, and after greeting him and giving him a brief rundown of her Bolivia project, Hannah handed him the folder. “Alex, I know this is a party, but I’d appreciate it if you could take a look at this.”
His verdict came quite quickly. “The bond structure is homonymic genius - water metrics monetized as cleansers for ESG portfolios. But consortium lawyers will slurp it dry. I suggest water metrics securitized as ‘Ecological Stewardship Units.’ Legally distinct from river ownership. The Bolivian government can’t resist.”
Hannah gripped her champagne flute tightly. “Can you put that into writing for me, please? Draft something over the weekend? I’m in a hurry.”
Alex leaned against the ice sculpture, condensation bleeding onto his sleeve. “I’ll virtualize Bolivia’s watersheds into ESG derivatives. Quantify every liter saved as a tradeable bond.” He tapped the folder. “But Rivera won’t accept Wall Street slicing his rivers. So we frame it as Bolivia owning the metrics. Investors just lease the environmental impact.”
“What about the bridging finance? The consortium rejected it.”
“Steiner’s nine percent loan? The interest rate is reasonable, but a three percent fee is high. Ask him if he’s willing to reduce it to get the business.”
“And if he won’t?”
“Then tell him you need a better interest rate. To justify the fee.”
They were interrupted by Maria, who bore a disapproving look. “I hope you’re not going to spend the whole evening talking business.”
Hannah smiled tightly. “Just wrapping up.” She turned back to Alex. “Can you draft the ESG framework over the weekend for me? I’ll handle Steiner.”
Alex nodded, pocketing the folder. “Bolivia’s patrimony obsession is the leverage point. Frame the bonds as the country’s stewardship legacy - not Wall Street speculation.”
Maria steered Hannah toward the terrace where laughter burst like champagne bubbles. She accepted a smoked salmon canapé, its delicate saltiness sharpening her thoughts. She realized there was nothing more she could do about Bolivia that night, so she decided to relax for a change and enjoy the party. She tried the eggnog and it met with her approval.
On Monday morning, Hannah switched on her phone to call Steiner, but as she did so it buzzed with a text from Rossi. “The chairman likes your plan, just not the terms. Will look for something similar.”
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