Chapter 13: R&

It took a full week before I could get in and out of my bed without assistance. I still relied heavily upon the walker to ambulate, but I was stable enough on my feet to get around without someone hovering over me constantly. The aches and pains from physical therapy were a constant that I was becoming used to. The ibuprofen helped tremendously. Danny and Co. showed up after day six and checked up on me. Sarah and Fonzy were assigned to him from the Embassy and they went about their subtle routines — Spencer checking for new bugs while Fonzy scanned through my computer and satellite phone. Froggy brought a manilla envelope and handed it to Remi when we went into the bedroom where there were no cameras.

“When you get the chance, I need you to complete these forms as best you can. I will be back next week to collect them and we will get going on your entry visa application,” he told her. “It looks like a lot, but just fill it out as best you can and I will take care of the rest.” He looked at me. “Remi asked about getting to the US while you were taking your long nap.”

I nodded. “Anything I can do to help, just ask.”

He smirked, “Actually I put you down as her sponsor,” he pointed to the packet. “There are a few items for you to complete in there as well.”

One sure way to up your chances of getting into the States on an extended visa is to make yourself useful to the government. It turned out that Remi was a linguist, and spoke several languages besides Tagalog and English. She was also fluent in Japanese, French, German, Spanish and Portuguese. Not only could she speak them but (except for Japanese) she was able to read and write in them as well. This made her particularly valuable to the State Department and I could see why Froggy was tackling her application personally. Provided she had no significant bones in her closet, she would be an easy stamp.

“What about the rest of the girls who are being held here against their will?” I asked.

Froggy shrugged. “Not for me to say. I forwarded the information to the Embassy and they will probably bring in the Argentine authorities,” he surmised. “This is way, the hell out of my jurisdiction...”

“I’m sure that will be of little comfort to those women,” I replied disgusted.

“For starters, we don’t even know that they are being held here against their will,” he stated defensively gesturing to Remi. “I’ve asked Remi to approach them discreetly to try and determine what their wishes and intentions are.”

I turned to her and she nodded. “It would seem that they are better off here than where they came from, at least that seems to be the opinion of the few I knew well enough to ask,” she said.

“What can the local government do?” I asked getting more frustrated by the minute.

“If they suspect the director of holding their passports and visas, they can force a search or even raid the premises,” Froggy mused, “either way — not my monkey, not my circus.”

“This may be though,” Fonzy spoke up from the doorway. He was holding my laptop open. Danny nodded for him to enter and he set the computer on my bed so that it faced us. There was a digital log on the screen with several highlighted events.

“Whatcha got Junior?”

“Someone nearby has been trying to get through the encryption I placed on your PC Mr. Bishop,” he stated. “The first attempt was made from the laptop itself using a biometric scrambler bot to try and override your facial rec key. That was the date and time stamped for the morning that you were undergoing your surgery.”

I looked at Remi. “Did you leave the residence for any time that morning?”

She looked troubled and scared as she tried to recall. Then she nodded her head. “I was asked to go to the kitchen and pick up the ice packs for you after you came back to the room,” she frowned, “while I was there, I was asked to help prepare the trays for the remaining clients. Each has a specific dietary restriction or prohibition...”

“How long were you gone?” Froggy asked.

“About an hour, maybe less.”

“Plenty of time to come inside and tamper with the laptop,” Fonzy confirmed. “Maybe we can get a record of the video from the hidden cameras in the main room and see who tried to break into it...” he regarded the screen before him and took the computer back so that he could begin typing away at it.

“We can’t very well go and make any accusations and demand to see the footage from cameras that we aren’t supposed to know about,” I replied, “can we?”

Froggy shook his head. “No, but we probably won’t have to. They aren’t exactly industry standard when it comes to espionage and cyber security...”

“Got it!” Fonzy interrupted and placed the laptop back on the bed. “Guess who...”

We watched as he brought up a side view of my main room from the video camera stashed behind the sconce near the kitchenette. You couldn’t see the main door but you couldn’t enter the premises without walking past the camera. We all held our breath when the door opened and a figure entered. I wasn’t remotely surprised when Dr. Vargas, the Director himself, stepped into the foyer and looked around before making straight for my room. He was inside for 12 minutes before leaving and heading straight for the door to leave.

“That sonuvabitch,” I muttered angrily. “I wonder if he was behind the attempt to get more money out of my card too?”

“Say what?” Froggy and Fonzy exclaimed at the same time.

I explained the message I got from my financial manager and pulled it up on my email. I was happy to see that she had replied to my request and sent me several HTML links as attachments. I surrendered the computer to Fonzy and watched as he began quickly scanning through each item.

“These are rather crude protocols that were popular several years ago when foreign hackers tried to undermine the cyber security measures of the banking industry,” he reported. “I copied them to myself so I can dig deeper when I get back to my office.” He turned back to me. “Did you provide your card to BASI when you arrived?”

I nodded. “Gave it to the Director himself to set up the direct wire transfer.”

“I think once I force trace them, we will find that these ghost transactions will bounce around through several different foreign URLs before originating right here.”

“If that is the case we can nail his balls to the wall,” Froggy said with a gleam in his eye, “we have a standard joint judiciary agreement with Argentina through the State Department that permits us to conduct investigations (with their knowledge and approval) and act on findings within certain legal limitations.”

Spencer had quietly joined us and listened quietly as we discussed the subterfuge. “I don’t understand how he could be so stupid as to indict himself with his own cameras,” she frowned, “he had to know that they were there.”

“Perhaps not,” I replied, “I get the impression he is not as involved with the day-to-day operations around here as I originally thought. The cameras you found are for the media group to use as B rolls in their documentaries. It would not surprise me at all if he just chose to remain ignorant of them even though he has watched the videos himself.” I turned to Fonzy, “You said there were other attempts to access my laptop?”

He nodded and tapped on it once more before pulling up the data log again. “Same day here,” he pointed at another highlighted string of code. “And the following day here.” He pointed at another. “Both times they tried to remote access your cloud server and both times failed.”

‘What the fuck?’ “Goddamn!” I exclaimed, “When I first looked into this place it seemed to be so clean and legit.”

Fonzy considered my words before replying, “This has the feel of someone within the organization attempting to line their own pockets,” he pursed his lips. “I will dig into it when I get back but I think we will find that this ‘criminal network’ is limited to just a few players.”

“So, what do I do in the meantime?” I asked. “I have to keep writing and communicating with folks back home.”

Froggy nodded. “Keep doing it. Now that we know what we are looking for we can stay on top of it.”

“We?” Fonzy scoffed.

“Quiet Junior,” he continued. “‘ We’ are now watching those cameras too and will be able to tell if anyone else tries anything funky.”

“Great,” I muttered, “So if they do, I just sit back like a fuckin’ cripple and wait for you numb-nuts to come to the rescue?”

Froggy grinned and opened his blazer to reveal his shoulder holster. He drew a black standard-issue Colt M1911. He pulled the slide back to check the chamber and then handed it to me by the barrel. “I hope you’re not too crippled to use this if you have to.”

“Oh, hell no!” I sighed as I tested the grip and weight. It was like digging my old baseball mitt out of a box and seeing that it still fit perfectly. I smiled contentedly and tucked the weapon under my mattress.

“Just remember Bishop,” he warned, “you don’t have diplomatic immunity down here like I do.”

I shrugged. “Meh, I got something better.”

“Oh? What pray tell is that?” he asked dubiously.

“Money.”

The day after my one-week check-up with Dr. Esposito, Tommy stopped by to check on me and discuss an addendum to my rehabilitation routine. He wanted to ‘experiment’ with a ‘cocktail’ that he had been developing. It was a method he was working on to ‘super-charge’ protein synthesis in the body and expedite the healing process. It also had something to do with reversing the body’s tendency to reject organic tissue transplants. Most of what he explained was beyond me, but he sounded convincing so I agreed and within the hour I began consuming two different supplemental dietary products. One was targeted towards turbocharging my muscle tissue regeneration and the other was a nutritional ‘bolus’ to replace the nutrients I consumed during the super-regeneration process.

The results were profound and immediate. The first thing I experienced was a significant increase in my metabolic rate. My heart beat faster and my core temperature rose to about 100 degrees F. I felt like I was running a marathon even while I was lying in bed, but I was so exhausted that I slept anyway. I woke up starving and feeling like all my energy had been depleted. I didn’t shit for three days even though I was eating six or seven meals. Gloria rapidly increased my PT regimen to three hours every morning and I would rest for a few hours before continuing my own workouts, focusing on core strength and cardio. By the fifth day of the super-regeneration program, Tommy ordered another MRI. He assured me that it would not be nearly as long as my previous test. I was able to remain perfectly still during the entire procedure and he quickly confirmed that my artificial spinal implant was over 75% healed. In less than 3 weeks after surgery!

He began a ‘graduated taper’ of my supplements so that I adjusted back to a normal metabolic rate more easily. I asked if I could begin jogging outside (I never was a fan of treadmills) and he told me he would defer to Gloria. When she found out about our secret tissue regeneration experiment, she lost her shit and decided to ‘test’ me for herself. My British counterparts had a term for girls like her, they called them ‘super-cunts.’

By the time she was done with me, we had completed the 3-hour resistance circuit, 3 hours of high-intensity interval training, and another two hours of weights and calisthenics. I was grateful to see her looking as beat as I felt, by the time we were done. I offered to let her shower with me (wink wink) and she stormed out of my flat cursing in Spanish.

When I woke up the next morning I should’ve been crippled with soreness and aches but I only felt like I could’ve used another couple hours of sleep and a meal or three. I got up and ate my typical breakfast which consisted of half a dozen Arempas stuffed with beef or chicken, beans, eggs, and cheese, a sweet dish of plantains, and several cups of coffee. Tommy showed up and gave me my daily tapered dose of ... whatever the hell it was and several more nutritional ‘bolus’ slurries for the day. After another hour Gloria had still not appeared so I put on my only pair of running pants and laced up my Sketchers. I hadn’t been able to jog for nearly three years and was eager to get outside and try out my new back.

It wasn’t an epic run by any stretch. I used to do half marathons in my sleep. But it felt incredible to me just to be able to stretch my legs and feel the rhythm once again of pacing and breathing. It was the altitude that got to me. I know my red blood cells had multiplied during my time here, but I had not tested my cardiovascular endurance and I found myself petering out after 4 miles of winding dirt roads. The view was to die for but my lungs were sucking air like a bellows when I stopped to catch my breath and turn around.

As I paced in circles with my arms over my head, I suddenly felt an emotional tsunami sweep over me. Talk about your cosmic mind-fucking breakdowns ... one minute I was euphoric and then I was suddenly heaving and gasping as the panic, guilt, sorrow, and loss all ambushed me with covering fields of fire. I had been blessed by the Gods with a second take on life. A life of affluence and a new body to enjoy it with. My health seemed better than perfect and I could finally give Lupi everything she deserved from a man and a husband. I was fucking alive!

But they were still dead! It hit me like a physical blow that left me breathless and gasping as I flogged myself for having the fucking audacity to celebrate my new health and life when they, had lost everything! Why didn’t I just eat my fucking gun years ago when I had the chance to make it right by them? Now look at me, still alive, and not even suffering one little twinge of misery. How could I be so fucking callous to my brothers and sisters in arms who all died around me? They had so much more to live for — family, friends, futures. What did I have...?

I found myself curled up in the dirt with my hands wrapped around my head when I saw her face in my mind — Lupi. Her hair was a mess of curls piled upon her head and her big eyes regarded me with pure love and trust. Her smile was like a radiant burst of sunlight that blasted away the awful tempest of emotions that sent me seeking cover on a dirt road, surrounded by soybean fields. I moaned in anguish as I sat up and wiped my face. I had everything to live for! Fuck this! I got to my feet and began force-marching my sorry ass back to my apartment and the future.

Danny and Remi were waiting for me when I returned. Remi was fussing around, cleaning the residence, and stopped to smile and hug me. She had been allowed to leave the Institute after pressure from the Consulate compelled the Director to provide her with her (expired) Visa. This was quickly remedied with some sort of ex-pat amendment to her status as a victim of crime. The local government extended her visa, pending her US citizenship request which was being pushed through the Embassy.

I limped into the bathroom and showered off before stepping out to see what they had brought me to eat. Froggy was nibbling on a pineapple wedge from my plate. He slid a thick folder across the table to me.

“We got ‘em,” he grinned.

“Senior Bishop what a pleasant surprise! I wasn’t expecting to see you up and around so quickly,” Dr. Vargas commented. I could tell he was genuinely surprised by my appearance. I chose to use my simple cane to help get around even though I didn’t need it. It was the following morning and I had had the time to read everything in the folder. I got more and more pissed as I went through it.

“Yeah, I’m full of surprises these days,” I replied dryly as I tossed the folder down onto his desk, “not unlike yourself Dr. Vargas.” I gazed at him with a look that compared him to the lowest bottom feeder in the swamp.

“What’s this?” he asked cautiously as he gestured toward one of the plush chairs before his desk. I shook my head.

“Proof,” I replied bluntly. I could see his expression falter for a second as he calmly took his seat behind the desk.

“That sounds rather ominous Senor Bishop,” he laughed nervously, “What is this ‘proof’ of?”