METROCAFE

by Peter Parkin

  "Christ, I've never seen anything like it! This is probably the most beautiful city I have ever laid eyes on!"

  "Yes, it is. But, be warned. The underbelly of Rio is also one of the ugliest you'll ever lay eyes on."

  "Even so, we won't be building in the underbellies. I can't tell you how excited I am to be here and to think that we'll be developing projects here shortly!"

  "I agree. I think we've struck the mother lode with purchasing at just the right time down here. We now need to make sure we have the right plan in place, because we'll only get one shot at this and we can't afford to be wrong. It's nice to think of this as Gerry's legacy, as this was his brainchild from the beginning."

  Troy nodded at this and Mike could see the melancholy in his eyes. They both felt the same way, as they began their quest to retrace Gerry's steps and finally get his show on the road.

  After deplaning, getting the rental car was painless, quick and cheap. They chose a small and innocuous Nissan model that would draw next to no attention. That was exactly the way they wanted it. Normally when they traveled, the cars they rented were high-end, but not this time, not here in Brazil. They would be content to slum it for the sake of safety.

  Neither Mike nor Troy spoke Portuguese, and substituting Spanish usually fell on deaf ears in Rio, so they planned to rely on hand signals primarily. Troy had a small Portuguese dictionary, which would help for the occasional word, but generally they would have no choice but to just wing it. They weren't worried. Both of them had traveled to so many countries and had encountered so many difficulties, that foreign cultures no longer intimidated them.

  They had booked reservations in the Centro district of Rio, the area that contained the financial and business activities as well as most of the historic buildings. Not that they had much time to sightsee, but they wanted to blend in as best as possible and not be in the touristy sections if they could avoid it. Their hotel, located on the Avenida Presidente Vargas, was an absolute dive known as the Alhambra. Again, another deliberate tactic on their part. They would suffer through the filth to remain incognito.

  Anyway, the Alhambra was just a place to sleep. Tomorrow, the exciting part of their trip would begin. Both of them would see, up close and personal, two of their prime properties for the first time and from there the planning could begin in earnest. Their visionary minds would be put once again to the test, which was a process that always charged the adrenaline for both executives. Mike and Troy knew that only moments like these were what motivated wealthy men like them to keep working.

  Chapter 10

  Mike shielded his eyes from the sun and looked out along the wide expanse of property. The waves crashed against the shore several hundred feet behind them as he and Troy stood by the side of the road on Av. Abelardo Bueno. They had already located the numerous property markers for their fifty hectares of real estate, and had double- checked them twice already. Mike had his binoculars out as he scanned the boundaries. Troy had been fiddling with his hand-held GPS, punching in coordinates, erasing them, and re-punching them.

  "No doubt about it. This is it, Mike. It's a swamp. A fucking swamp." "No mistake on the GPS?"

  "Nope. I've done it over and over again, and the property markers also match with the deed."

  Mike scratched his head and raised his binoculars one last time, kidding himself into thinking he'd see some ray of hope. He felt sick to his stomach.

  "Troy, we own one-hundred and twenty-three acres of swampland. We paid twenty-five million dollars for this unbuildable piece of shit!"

  "Let's talk in hectares, Mike. Fifty hectares doesn't sound as bad as one hundred and twenty-three acres."

  They had gotten an early start this morning, traveling the twenty miles southwest of the city centre to the famous and wealthy neighborhood of Barra Da Tijuca. This was considered to be the hottest new neighborhood of Rio, punctuated by picturesque rock formations, incredible Atlantic beaches, and wealth.

  As they looked out over the expanse they could also see that the area was bisected by canals and lakes. There was no doubt that at one time almost all of this particular area had been swamp, and through painstaking dredging and filling, subdivisions had sprung up. Their "land" was one of the few areas that had yet to be dredged and reclaimed. It was obviously a leftover, and it was now all theirs.

  Mike looked at Troy with some faint hope in his eyes. "What can you do with this? You're the construction engineer."

  Troy's veins were bulging in his neck, matching the muscles flexing under his sweaty T-shirt. It was a hot day. He looked out over the swamp, and replied, "Nothing, Mike, nothing at all. The cost to dredge and fill this size of property would be ridiculous, not to mention the environmental impact requirements we would have to adhere to. In fact, due to wetlands, we may not even be allowed to build. I wonder if that was even investigated when Gerry bought this turkey. We might own a very expensive conservation area. Maybe we could just charge admission to birdwatchers."

  "Troy, this isn't funny."

  "No, it's not—but you have to admit, this does add a new twist to that old expression: 'I have some swampland in Florida to sell you.' This global economy has apparently expanded that joke to Brazil."

  Mike kicked some stones into the marsh, and sighed. "Okay, take whatever photos you need, and we'll get the fuck out of here. We have a three hour drive ahead of us to get down to Angra dos Reis, and quite honestly, I'm not looking forward to it."

  *****

  The drive down to Angra was a scenic one, not that either of them was taking any notice. They were cruising the little Nissan down the BR-101 highway, each lost in their own thoughts. Mike was at the wheel and he was still feeling sick to his stomach. He suddenly yelled, "Fuck!" and slammed his hands against the dashboard. "What the hell has Gerry done to us!"

  Troy, despite his size, was usually the calm one under pressure. He just looked over at Mike and decided that at this very moment he should keep his mouth shut and let him vent.

  Mike went silent again and began replaying in his mind the travel information he had read back in his hotel room about Angra dos Reis. He had to think of something other than the twenty-five million dollar swamp.

  He remembered that the name of this area they were visiting meant "Bay of Kings" because it was discovered on January 6th, 1502, the day Catholics celebrate the Epiphany—the day the Three Kings visited the baby Jesus. The area was noted for its crystal-clear waters—a diver's paradise—and 365 islands to explore, one for every day of the year. He recalled that the area had several five-star resorts along the beach, and numerous Brazilian celebrities had summer homes there. New Year's day was apparently extra special, with a parade of brilliantly decorated boats entertaining the tourists and locals along the shoreline.

  Mike sensed that this would be an excellent spot to launch a luxury resort, which was their plan for the twenty-five hectares of land Baxter Development had purchased for fifteen million dollars. Mike shuddered.

  They pulled off the highway and drove along the top of a ridge, revealing the city of Angra down below. They both gulped. Ugly piers lined the shore with what appeared to be several ships under construction. If that wasn't bad enough, over the city horizon they could see the unmistakable shapes of two nuclear reactor domes, and what looked to be one more under construction. Mike and Troy glanced at each other without saying anything. Their silence said it all. Mike just kept driving, and tried his best to produce some saliva in his dry mouth..

  Once they reached the bottom of the hill and into the city centre, their spirits rose. The opening into the harbor area revealed an incredible sight of mountains and tree- covered hills dotting the islands and shoreline. As long as they didn't look at the ship- building piers or the nuclear power plant, they could see why this area was deemed a paradise and why world-class resorts had been built here.

  Troy pulled out his GPS and keyed in the coordinates for the tract of land they owned. The screen remained blank. He tried again.
Still blank.

  Mike pulled over into a parking spot along the city's main drag. "I see a tourist information office just down the street, Troy. Let's pop in there for some low-tech guidance."

  They strolled down the quaint street, past the usual T-shirt shops and outdoor bars. The tourist information office was brightly adorned on the outside with painted flowers and palm trees. It had a nice colorful awning providing shade over some chairs and tables, next to bookcases stacked with travel booklets for the taking. They walked inside, relieved to get out of the oppressive heat for a few minutes.

  A petite lady with excellent English greeted them the instant they stepped inside. She was standing at the counter, and graciously held out two lemonades for them to sip.

  Mike got right to the point. "Our company has purchased some land on Juruba Beach and we're here to take a look at it. We can't locate it on our GPS and we were wondering if you might be able to point us in the right direction."

  She chuckled. Her nametag identified her as Maria. "Why are you laughing, Maria?"

  Maria smiled pleasantly at him. "It's no wonder your GPS can't find it. Juruba Beach is on the island of Gipoia, about a thirty-minute ferry ride from the Santa Luzia docks."

  Mike and Troy just stared at her with their mouths agape. Mike composed himself quickly. "An island?"

  "Yes, and oh, it's so beautiful. You'll love it. You're so lucky if you've bought land there. I'd heard that a large tract was purchased, but hadn't seen the new owners yet. The tenants there are so excited."

  "Tenants?" Mike felt his stomach starting to heave again. Gerry was surely torturing him from the grave, grabbing his stomach and trying to turn it inside out.

  "You don't know?" Maria frowned at him.

  "No, we were under the impression that the land was undeveloped." "Well, it is, mostly. There should be no problem building something else there, if that's what you want to do."

  Mike relaxed a bit. An island resort had some appeal in his mind, so maybe this wasn't so bad after all. "So we can take a ferry right to Juruba Beach?"

  Maria laughed again. "Oh, no. That would be impossible. Juruba can only be reached by canoe. The waters are far too shallow. You can reach the island itself by ferry, but you must use canoes from that point on."

  Mike thought he was going to pass out. He glanced sideways at Troy and could see that his face had gone completely white. Almost afraid to ask, he decided to hit Maria with one last question. "Who...are the tenants?"

  "They are known as 'The Nature Colony.' It's Angra's most famous nudist colony. You'll love them when you meet them—but you'll have to take your clothes off!" She chuckled again, giving Mike a naughty little wink. "The colony was so relieved when they heard about the sale of the property. They were afraid that their lease wasn't going to be renewed. But as soon as the sale looked like a sure thing, the old landowners went ahead and renewed the lease for an additional one hundred years!

  "The colony attracts people from all over the world, you know. Even I like to toddle on over there once a month or so. Maybe I'll see you there sometime?" Maria winked again.

  Chapter 11

  Breakfast consisted of rice and black beans, according to the waiter spiced with onions and cilantro, a crusty roll that could best be described as a jawbreaker, and Brazilian jet fuel coffee. It was going to be another scorcher; already ninety degrees according to the weather tower in the center of the square, and it was only 9:00 in the morning. Mike and Troy were seated on the outdoor patio of a restaurant down the street from their hotel in Centro Rio. Mike had retrieved the two files from his knapsack for the properties they had driven to yesterday and Troy was leafing through them, sharing his observations.

  "There are no aerial photos, geological surveys, or market value assessments on either of those locations. There are no appraisals either. These files are two of the thinnest I've ever seen. Considering how much we spent for each property, I would have expected considerably more due diligence."

  Mike was shaking his head in disgust. "Doesn't sound like Gerry's work. He was always a detail guy. What the hell happened?"

  "Oh, here's the name and address of the lawyer he used: Juan Paradis at Paradis and Associates at 207 Av. Rio Branco. Looks like it's easy walking distance from here, near that beautiful cathedral we saw driving in—Our Lady of the Candelaria."

  Mike took the files back from Troy. "Okay, finish your java and we'll walk down there and pay a visit to Mr. Paradis. I'm wondering why Gerry didn't use our corporate lawyers, who have an affiliate down here. It doesn't make any sense for us to use someone else. Gerry himself was a lawyer. He should have known better."

  Troy tried to change the subject. "If we have time, I'd like to drop in on that Candelaria Cathedral. I hear it's beautiful, about 300 years old—has an incredible white dome as a topper. That dome alone apparently took a hundred years to finish. Wendy loves old churches; she'd be thrilled if I could get some photos."

  Mike looked up from his coffee cup and clenched his teeth. "Troy, what planet are you on right now? Do you actually think we have time for sightseeing? And I can't believe you're in the mood to run around taking touristy photos, after what we discovered yesterday. Geez."

  Troy had known Mike for so long that getting dressed-down by him nowadays had little effect on him. He knew Mike was on edge, but he was trying his best to keep things light. "Mike, calm down. Let's get all the facts before getting our nuts in a wringer. Chill out. Like, you should have let us go visit that nudist colony down in Angra dos Reis yesterday. I mean, we were already so close—it wouldn't have hurt to just paddle over there for a few laughs."

  Mike glared at him. " I can't believe you wanted to do that. Why would we want to see a bunch of fat, ugly old men and women naked? And hear them gloat about how they have us locked into a hundred year lease on our new property!"

  "It would have taken the edge off, Mike, that's all."

  "I want to keep my edge, thank you. And there was no point looking at that useless property. We can never build on it, with only water access by canoe for Christ's sake. Not to mention a nudist colony that we can't evict!"

  Troy knew that there was nothing he could do to calm Mike down. He finished his coffee and stood. "Okay, let's go then, Mike. We'll see the lawyer and do whatever else we have to do today to pin this all down. Our flight to Acapulco leaves at 6:05 a.m. tomorrow. I think both of us could use a hearty meal tonight, some wine, and a good night's sleep. Right?"

  *****

  "Gentlemen, it's a pleasure. Welcome to Rio de Janeiro! I hope you're enjoying the city." Juan Paradis spoke excellent English. Mike thought he looked like Julio Iglesias and seemed to be almost as suave. His office was on the third floor of a beautiful old historical building, and seemed to be spacious enough to house several associates. Juan ushered Mike and Troy back to his bright corner office with a view of the harbor.

  "You'll have to excuse how we're dressed," said Troy.

  Juan held up his hand. "No apologies needed. Hey, even I wouldn't want to kidnap you guys with clothes like that!" He clearly knew the score.

  Mike leaned forward in his chair. "Sorry to pop in on you like this unannounced, Mr. Paradis. We need some information on a couple of transactions that our company hired you to complete for us a couple of years ago. You would have dealt with a Gerry Upton."

  "Gerry, Gerry...what company are you with?"

  Mike and Troy handed him their business cards.

  "Of course, of course, I remember now—Baxter Development. A couple of properties; Rio and Angra, correct?"

  Mike flashed him a friendly smile. "Yes, that's right. We'd like you to pull your files so we can ask some questions if you don't mind."

  "No problem at all. I'll go get them right now." He got up from his chair and headed toward a back hallway. Turning his head back in Mike's direction, he said, "I'm glad to see you've healed up nicely from that accident, Mr. Baxter."

  Juan disappeared down the hall and was back in
less than five minutes with two files in his hand.

  As soon as he reappeared Mike asked, "Mr. Paradis, how did you hear about my accident?"

  "Please, call me Juan. Well, of course, you told me all about it when you were here two years ago—you and Mr. Upton. Don't you remember? You came in here all bandaged from your neck to the top of your head." Juan chuckled. "We laughed about the slits for your eyes, nose and mouth. It was a vehicle fire, if I recall correctly."

  Mike's mouth hung open as he glanced at Troy, who just shrugged and showed the same confused look on his face.

  "No, Mr. Paradis...sorry, Juan...you must be mistaken. I've never even met you before today. I was most certainly not here with Mr. Upton two years ago."

  Juan frowned, and Mike sensed from his body language that he had gone instantly defensive. "I don't know what kind of game you two are playing here, but I know what I'm saying. And the file documents back me up. Do you think you can deny being party to buying your own properties? Is that what's going on here?"

  Troy jumped in. "Exactly what documents are you talking about?"

  Juan flipped open one file folder with a flourish, and spun it around so they wouldn't have to look at it upside down. "Here are copies of the passport and Ontario driver's license for Gerald Upton." He turned over a few papers. "And here are copies of your passport and driver's license, Mr. Baxter. These look like you, don't they? For legal reasons I always have to take copies of such documents at the time of real estate transactions as a prevention against fraud. I'm very careful about my work. You gave me these documents to photocopy—two years ago, and you were sitting in that very chair you are sitting in now."

  Mike looked at the copies and there was no doubt that they were his. "What legal proof is this? These documents could be fakes! You couldn't even see the person's face if it was all bandaged up. What kind of fucking scam have you pulled here?" Mike knew he was losing control, and he could see out of the corner of his eye Troy leaning over toward him in a bid to calm him down. It wasn't going to work.