Dealing with the Devil's Deal

By L. Hurley Ankeny

Cocaine production, demand and sales has become an increasing problem in the Western Hemisphere. Motivation to purchase this narcotic by dealers, despite its high prices, and their capability to get the processed product to eager end buyers, has caused a high volume of illegal trafficking. Mexico, in particular, has been deluged by a severe intensive drug war. Because of the many deaths resulting from this conflict, that county now maintains the unenviable position as the number one nation in our hemisphere attempting to cope with severe cocaine problems. The nation of Colombia experienced this highly undesirable situation back in tee 19905. Pablo Escobar, that country's drug king, became 50 powerful, that at times he virtually ruled the nation.
But this power eventually became his undoing. Right-wing opponents from the Las Pepes death squads killed him in 1993. Although, Colombia became more stable after that occurrence, a left wing organization emerged to take on the right's counter activities. They are known as the Farqs, They are still able to maintain a hold on the power involved with cocaine. Concerning DEALING WITH THE DEVIL, Jack Broderick, the
CIA station Chief in Peru, earns his keep by impeding the drug influences mentioned above. He does an amazing job by enlisting a hard boiled agent, Brian Koltai, from the U.S. Together, they prevent another costly war from occurring in the Andes like the one that had taken place twenty years earlier.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483646480

L. Hurley Ankeny

Lewis Ankeny, a Portland, Oregon resident, was in the Covert section of the army's 10th Special Forces Group in the 1950s. That section later became part of the CIA in the 1960s. Bobby Kennedy, representing the Kennedy administration, accomplished this transition in the early sixties. Ankeny graduated from UCLA majoring in Geography. He has travelled extensively in South America.

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Dealing With The Devil’s Deal

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L. Hurley Ankeny

Copyright © 2013 by L. Hurley Ankeny.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 05/22/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

Prologue

Illustrations

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

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Major Reid and Lieutenant Rosas spring into action near the Peruvian border.

2b.jpg

Flying over the Incan Andes

The orange line at the middle right of the pictorial traversing the Vilcabamba Valley is the route Rob and Spence took for their dig. It was a round-trip from Quillabamba.

2a.jpg

Rob Horner holds the coordinate post for Spence Hawkins at their dig near Espiritu Pampa. Their guide, Pasha, watches.

4a.jpg

Jack Broderick excoriates Jimmy Todd (left).

4b.jpg

Brian shoves Vujovich off a Wayna Picchu ledge.

3b.jpg

Ali Farmer fends the advances of Adolfo Acosta in a hotel room near Machu Picchu.

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Vlad Divac watches Mario Robles describe his computer scam.

3a.jpg

Michael Marr prepares to take a picture, but Jimmy Todd objects. In back of him are Dan Rainey and Roger Tremaine.

PROLOGUE

C ocaine production, demand, and sales has become an increasing problem in the Western Hemisphere. Motivation to purchase this narcotic by dealers, despite its high prices, and their capability to get the processed product to eager end buyers have caused a high volume of illegal trafficking.

Mexico, in particular, has been deluged by a severe intensive drug war. Because of the many deaths resulting from this conflict, that country now maintains the unenviable position as the number one nation in our hemisphere attempting to cope with severe cocaine problems.

The nation of Colombia experienced this highly undesirable situation back in the 1990s. Pablo Escobar, that country’s drug king, became so powerful that at times he virtually ruled the nation.

But this power eventually became his undoing. Right-wing opponents from the Los Pepes death squads killed him in 1993. Although Colombia became more stable after that occurrence, a left-wing organization emerged to take on the Right’s counteractivities. They are known as the FARCs. They are still able to maintain a hold on the power involved with cocaine.

___

ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER 1

Langley, Virginia

June 3, 2011

I don’t allow smoking here, but go ahead. The man sitting across the desk from the balding man with a stark frown extracted a cigarette from his pack, struck a match, and lit it.

It’s that bad, eh?

It is. We’re trying to prevent another Andean war, like the one that killed nearly seventy thousand people.

That was from 1980 to 2000, I think.

Correct. That’s why we’ve got you down there, Jack.

Is that a compliment?

Whatever. You’ve got your bad side. That’s what we need now.

I read that as being tough.

That was my point. Look, Jack, I’m not going to mince around with a lot of rhetoric. We’ve got too much of that.

So it’s going to be short, but I’m guessing not too sweet.

The not-too-sweet part is that the government is running out of money. The old days are gone. Be prepared to eat at McDonald’s. The man across the desk smiled.

No problem. It’s an issue that doesn’t make the first one hundred with me.

I knew that. That’s another reason why we’ve got you down there. There’s no room for bullshit artists on this project.

I try not to be in that category.

What I mean about you is that you go from A to B without diverting it to A1, A2, A3, and so on. I want someone that will be direct on this, leaving out the macaroni.

I read you one hundred.

You can call me Charlie. There won’t be any ranking people interfering, so we don’t need the formality thing.

Okay, Charlie, where do we go from here? Charlie reached down to open a drawer. He extracted a large brown envelope. He raised it above his desk, holding it in his right hand.

This is it. We may have to deal with the devil, Jack.

Ummm…

What’s inside identifies him and them. Them, being his advocates. You okay, so far?

Uh, yeah, I guess.

Our research is the result of the deep analysis that was done. It’s coded. Use the pad on it.

All right.

We had a reason for not contacting you down there—by phone, that is.

I was wondering why.

High secrecy. That’s the name of the game on this thing.

I dig.

So here’s the setup.

Okay.

"Since we’ve known that 90 percent of the cocaine getting to the United States comes from Colombia, we started to put dents in the armor of the left-wing guerillas a few years back.

That’s when we had money, Charlie.

True. It was working better then.

Yeah. We screwed up one of their kidnappings. That took a lot of air out of them.

The FARQs you mean?

Yeah. Who else?

That’s when this new thing started, Jack. Their coca exports to the States started to go downhill.

I remember that.

So now, they’ve begun to go after the coca in Peru.

I heard about that, Charlie. What’s the upshot?

One of their guerilla chiefs has wormed his way into a big0time connection down your way.

A FARQ honcho, eh?

That’s a disgusting name. We should put them out of existence for that alone. Jack laughed.

What’s the guy’s name?

Rodrigo Fuentes, Heard of him?

Yeah. Rings a bell.

He’s a FARQ wheel. Charlie pointed to the packet once more. In there, it relates as to how he’s connected to a big-shot Peruvian businessman. His name is Acosta. Jack’s forehead wrinkled.

What’s his first?

Adolfo.

Yeah, if he’s the one I’m thinking of, he’s wealthy. I don’t think his rep is all that bad. The one I’m thinking of anyway. If he is, I know people working for him.

He’s as clean as a whistle or close.

Probably got a mistress or two.

The point is, even though he follows the line ordinarily, we think he’s the one that’s getting coke to Fuentes. You’ll be trying to find out how and where it comes from. Jack leaned back in his chair.

Hmm… so he’s the devil you’re talking about.

You are to find that out, Jack. We’re getting you some help. Jack cast a facetious smirk.

I’ll be looking forward to that.

We’ve found a guy in the Peruvian government. He’s got a reputation as a legal sharpshooter.

Good.

His name is Piragua.

Never heard of him.

And we hope others don’t either. Besides the one who got the info on him—Charlie pointed to the packet again—you and me are the only ones who know his name, so far. That’s the way it’s going to stay. We need high security for this guy.

I get you.

Another thing is, I’m sending down better muscle for you."

Ooh, that’s nice.

It’ll be a no more Mr. Nice Guy type, Jack. My metaphor wasn’t meant to be only that. I want it as a theme. For you and me.

Okay.

We don’t care what happens to Acosta. If he sees the light, we leave him alone. Piragua may have other issues with him. If the coke traffic stops or is heavily impeded, we’ll stay out of it. Jack blew a neat smoke ring that rose above them.

Your hoped-for prognosis doesn’t sound too plausible to me, Charlie.

What do you mean?

It’s unlikely that we, or anybody else, will be able to eradicate the traffic entirely. Charlie looked away for a second. A look of anguish briefly appeared his face. Then he focused back on Jack.

Maybe so, but we’re going to flatten it and anybody who gets in our way. Jack took a long drag on his cigarette.

I can see that happening. A smile reappeared on Charlie’s face.

I told you this would be short, Jack. What do you think?

I’m ready.

Then get going!

___

Lima, Peru

I’ll take it on my cell, Damra. He pressed a button. This is Acosta.

Rodrigo here, Adolfo. A bright smile appeared on his face.

Aah, Rodrigo. How’s everything going up there?

Not so good, not so good.

Is there a problem? We’ve sent you three shipments.

That’s not the problem. It’s the overall situation.

I’m sorry. I don’t understand.

We’re not getting enough. We want the shipments to be larger. Adolfo paused for thirty-two seconds. A more curt smile crossed his face now.

Adolfo—

Yes, yes, sorry. I can increase the size of the loads.

There’s another thing.

And what is that, Rodrigo?

We haven’t discussed the monetary end of it. I’m assuming you want to get paid. Adolfo’s clutch on the cell phone was intense.

It will be, uh, in line with the market prices, Rodrigo.

Our big problem, Adolfo, is the change in the market.

Yes, I know.

The Bolivian pricks are cutting into our trade. We’ve slipped below 70 percent of the total U.S. imports.

Perhaps I can help you there, Rodrigo, but right now I will discuss the costs.

We’ll pay you five hundred U.S. Gs up front and the same per load.

It will be a million up front, Rodrigo, and the same per load. Adolfo heard a gasp at the other end of the line.

Caramba.

That is well within line, Rodrigo.

We’re not made of money, Adolfo.

But your export business to the United States Is.

I just told you we’re losing a lot of that. The Nortes have poured millions of dolares to squelch us, and it is affecting us quite a bit now.

I have to correct you, Rodrigo.

What are you talking about, Adolfo?

I’m talking about the nearly seven and a half billion dolares the Nortes have used to put you under. We’re not talking just millions, Rodrigo.

What’s your point, Adolfo?

That’s a thousand million dolares. Just one billion is.

So!

So the Nortes have spent a lot of cash to put your operation in a bad position, very bad.

Your driving toward something, Adolfo, but I don’t know what it is.

Just that things are different now, Rodrigo. You have been the area’s military power, but now…

Yes, I see where you are going, Adolfo. In the past ten years, we have been challenged. That is true.

What I’m telling you, Rodrigo, my good friend, is that I have control of everything down here.

What does that mean?

That we have a free-flowing operation with our caravans going into your country. There will be no interruptions from anybody. There was a pause on Rodrigo’s end of the line.

Heh, I see where you are coming from now, Adolfo.

Good.

But you see, the last ten years have taught us something up here.

What is that?

That while the Nortes can be imbeciles sometimes, they can be very astute at other times.

I don’t follow that, my friend.

Just this, Adolfo, if the Nortes have a desire to penetrate your operation, they will find ways of doing it.

Impossible! Adolfo’s voice was rough and loud with this exclamation. Sorry.

Not a problem, Adolfo. That was a natural reaction.

The Nortes will not get to me. They are not that strong down here, and I have good relations with them.

In case you haven’t heard, Adolfo, they are in financial trouble.

So?

So 750.

800, no less.

Done! Damn! For me, it’s high, but I need to resell it to get weapons.

I haven’t told you about another benefit I can offer you, Rodrigo.

Really? I’m listening, Adolfo.

High-quality weapons.

I’m very interested in that.

You’d be more interested in the greatly lower-than-world-market prices we can offer. We have to face reality, Rodrigo.

Yes, reality is looming its head.

The reality is the lower coca profits that exist today.

What benefit can either of us get, Adolfo?

You can get the best-quality weapons available; we get a decent profit.

Why are you purchasing our rifles then?

That’s, as they say, a ploy

A ploy?

So that the Nortes will think that we are the ones buying, not the ones selling.

Aah, I see. How can I view these weapons?

Luis has a brochure. We must be careful on who sees this.

I’ll send a man down next Tuesday. His name is Mario Robles.

___

CHAPTER 2

Boston, Massachusetts

H e heard the door close, and Robert Horner looked up. His bluish-gray eyes glanced at the wall in front of his desk. An enthusiastic glint appeared within them.

Did you get the mail?

Yes, the female voice in the hallway replied softly. Horner arose from his chair. He moved quickly into the hallway. Germaine Horner was looking through the letters in her hand. He saw her pause and stare at one.

Who’s that for? A trace of a smile curled her lips.

So?

Well?

It looks like your reply. It’s from the trustees. He hurried toward her, his hand outstretched. He grabbed the letter and rapidly opened it.

Good or bad? she asked. Horner’s eyes fixated on the document for over a minute before his expression changed.

Yahoo!

Then it’s good, I surmise.

He smiled broadly. Yes, yes, yes! Her expression was not as exuberant. A slight frown creased her forehead.

You mean they’re letting you do it, Rob?

That they are, my dear, that they are. She turned away from him.

That’s a surprise, Rob, frankly.

That’s what a lot of people were thinking, Germaine, a lot of people.

I know you’re not asking me, but it seems like it’s going to be a waste of time. His smile turned into a grimace.

I can understand why you’re not hot on it, Germaine, but this is big for me, maybe gigantic. Both of them stood in the hallway, staring stridently at each other. There was silence for just under a minute.

She focused on his eyes, intent on detecting an indication of him not sticking to the stubborn position he seemed to be holding. Germaine had always admired his forthright expression, if not other facets of his personality.

She thought it emanated from his eyes. To her, it seemed to express the desire to get to the truth of whatever subject he had been examining. This demeanor and bearing gave him an appearance of a professional man, which extended well beyond his thirty-eight years of age.

Rob was just over six feet in height. His build was wiry without being thin. He exuded an inward toughness without having any appearance of aggressiveness.

His straight well-formed nose was another feature that enhanced his facial expression. Germaine felt that he needed these attributes to compensate for what she considered his lack of intellectual energy toward those that mattered in his academic world.

Rob, in turn, studied her expression to see if she had any misgiving about the news he had just received. There had been a frown on her face that appeared to express negativity. Maybe it was nothing really, he thought. Despite her occasional stiffness toward him, she was attractive, with compelling brown eyes and pleasant facial features that augmented her academic posture.

Rob thought that this posture exuded a typical feminine academic thrust to move upward in their university world. He addressed her as Gerry periodically, even though she preferred Germaine as the proper nomenclature.

She saw that it was evident that he would not be giving any leeway to his newfound happiness.

So you’re going to Peru. He projected a smile.

Exactly.

When? He studied the letter.

Ah, either by the fifteenth of next month or earlier. If I can arrange it, I’ll fly down from JFK to Callao. I think that’s where Lima’s airport is.

Well, if that’s what you want, I guess that’s the way it’s going to be. His stare at her was more intense now.

Yes, Germaine, that’s definitely the way it’s going to be.

Fine, it’s just that your professorship will be delayed now.

That’s fine with me. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal, professorship or no professorship.

Sure. I’m all right with that, Rob. But I’m getting tired of this apartment.

So am I. If we had the time, we could do something about that.

Well, you know that we don’t now, but your little sojourn will put that off too.

Germaine, please, this is not little or a sojourn.

All right, sorry about that. But everything seems to be delayed. Rob scratched his head. There was something else bothering him.

When the professorship comes, we’ll have to deal with our financial rhubarb.

Uh-oh, oh, right. Neither one of us is warm on dealing with that.

Maybe we can convince the bank to make another arrangement, Gerry.

Perhaps, she said, ignoring his familiar pronouncement of her first name. But any kind of a decision probably will be a long way off.

A month and a half isn’t all that long.

But what about those orals you’ll have to take? Maybe we’re looking at three to five months anyway.

That’s not an issue with me anymore, Gerry. It’s only with you and Fischer.

There are obviously others. Surely you aren’t that naive, Rob.

That’s not my concern now. The trustees voted me in.

Well, we’ll just move on then. I’ve got my own concerns with Fischer.

That’s right. Let’s see, you’re just a year or so behind me.

If you don’t press things, Rob, I’ll catch up with you. He projected a broad smile.

Not likely. I’ve been going on a steady track and doing well.

But Fischer isn’t going to like this. You know that, don’t you?

What do I care? He’s just a second-rate academic anyway. That’s why he’s got the job. Rob was referring to Professor Gerald K. Fischer, head of Blanchard University’s Department of Anthropology’s Academic Oversight Committee.

It’s not a good idea to get on the wrong side of him. You get the idea there, don’t you?

Germaine, the big picture for me doesn’t include him in it.

I think you might be in for a surprise there, Rob.

I’m not worried.

Did I hear you say that you’ve got a meeting with him coming up?

Right. It’s tomorrow at two.

Good luck. You should be careful. He could get you stuck at Antarctica U. if you don’t watch out.

He hasn’t got that much juice, Germaine. He must have really impressed you with his power.

I’m just saying that you shouldn’t be relying on your devil-may-care attitude that much. He projected another broad smile.

We’ll see what happens tomorrow.

___

CHAPTER 3

R ob could see that Fischer was angry, and that he was pretending not to be. That is up to now he had been. Rob began to notice a bit of redness appearing on his neck just above his starched collar and on his wrinkled forehead just below his balding spot.

Rob had judged that he was in his late fifties, or early sixties. He thought that he was not carrying off his attempted demeanor of friendliness. He did project authority, wearing a trim gray pinstriped suit, which was neat fitting, and a costly black tie.

Frankly, Horner, this screws up your professorship scheduling. Sorry for that annotation, but that is the truth.

I can handle the truth, sir.

You can address me as professor.

Yes, Professor. I am sorry that my grant activity inconveniences your scheduling.

It is not just mine, Fischer growled. It applies to the whole university’s movements this way.

Sorry, Professor.

If you are truly sorry, you will send the trustees notification that you will not accept their grant.

I’m afraid that will be quite impossible. Fischer’s body strained as he heard Rob’s announcement. More redness appeared on his now-gnarled facial features.

If you don’t do this, Horner, you will delay the normal procedure not only of your professorship but the other candidates as well. Rob frowned. He didn’t understand the rationale behind Fischer’s rancor.

I’m sorry, Professor, I’m a bit at sea about why you seem to have such anguish regarding this matter.

It’s simply this, Horner. You’re the only one in this department proceeding toward professorship.

That’s understood.

But because I am the only one in the entire university who coordinates this program, so be aware of that.

I’m aware, Rob said, not fully convinced that he had the awareness that Fischer wanted him to have.

The point is that I’ve structured the entire current program around your ascendancy.

Ascendancy? You mean by that my progression toward professorship.

Precisely. Rob’s respect for Fischer had always been minimal during their academic relationship. With his recent diatribe, he had completely lost respect for the man. What a lazy old fart he is, Rob thought. But he admonished himself to be careful.

I’ll lay it out to you. Professor.

You need to do that, Horner.

It’s just this, Professor Fischer, Ron stipulated. He had shifted his attitude from a respectful stance toward Fischer, deciding that it was time to assert a more aggressive position.

My grant is based on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to delve into the academic mysteries that faced Hiram Bingham of Yale one hundred years ago.

Yes, yes, I’ve read your piece on it.

I’m in the position now of following up on his high Andean research in Peru.

Horner, there are other projects that have higher-importance ratings than those Andean mysteries. Rob was irked at Fischer’s rancorous opinions and the disgustingly shrill tone of his voice.

He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let it get to him. The trustees’ decision was on his side. He would have to put up with Fischer’s garbage for the time being but only for the time being.

Professor, this is on the academic high list despite your opinion to the contrary.

That’s debatable.

What isn’t debatable is that Bingham had the highest academic support back then as the other intellectual pursuers have since. Not only that, the National Geographic backed Bingham, and they continue to publish and express their interest in this subject.

I know all that, but you seem to be evading my point. Rob felt he had Fischer where he wanted him now. Fischer was groping for a position above him, he thought, and it wasn’t working. Rob extended a cursory smile toward the cranky academic administrator.

I will contact the trustees regarding this conversation, Professor.

And you will tell them that you want this project cancelled. Rob continued smiling.

Not at all. You see, you’ve badly missed my point, Professor. Fischer’s forehead wrinkled further. His eyes displayed the anger within him.

You’ll rue the day, Horner. You’ll be sorry if you decide to proceed with this.

It’s you who have rued the day. I’ll explain further.

Bah.

You see, when Bingham first went down to the Andes, he was searching for the lost city of Vilcabamba.

Frankly, I don’t care what he was searching for.

But I’ll tell you anyway because it is salient to why I am pursuing this project.

If you wish. A look of resolve was beginning to appear on Fischer’s face.

When Bingham reached Machu Picchu, he thought he had discovered the Lost City.

I thought he did.

No, the Spanish finally vanquished the Incas in 1572. That was in Vilcabamba or a place like Vilcabamba.

So what does that mean, Horner?

Because the Spaniards never got to Machu Picchu, it wasn’t the Lost City, at least not to the Incas anyway.

If the Spaniards got to the other one, why is it considered a lost city?

Because the Incas deserted the place, and the Spaniards had no reason to stay there and use it as a base.

So your project is essentially searching for something lost in a jungle.

There may be other sites besides Vilcabamba that could qualify as a lost city. So that’s my big quest, Professor, to find the main one, if it hasn’t been already.

There are others looking, aren’t there, Horner?

Back in the midsixties, a man named Savoy uncovered artifacts that were considered part of the Lost City, but those artifacts weren’t revealing enough to definitely pinpoint it as the main Lost City.

But it could have been.

Yes, that’s what I want to find out too. In 2002, some explorers found other artifacts in a place called Cerro Victoria. I’ll follow up on that one, also. Rob saw Fischer’s face change into a more bland, almost passive expression. Maybe he’s coming out of it, he thought.

Why be bothered with all that, Horner?

What do you mean specifically?

You can accomplish just as much up here without traipsing around some godforsaken jungle down there. Rob studied Fischer for a few seconds. He didn’t appear to be mellowing, but there were signs that he was giving up the ghost.

In all academic procedures, Professor, the devil is in the details. My trip down there is meant to uncover the details.

Perhaps, Fischer said, staring at the wall for a few seconds. Rob took his single-word response as an indication of a semi-acknowledgment.

I’ll send the trustees a dispatch describing our conversation, Professor.

Of course, you can do that if you wish, but that isn’t necessary. I’ll send them one.

Rob thought he had him now. Whatever he sent to the trustees wouldn’t have anything to legitimately change their decision.

Nice talking with you, Professor, Rob said unconvincingly.

We’re done here, Fischer growled.

Rob arose from his chair. He had nothing more to say to Fischer. His gesture toward the Professor was halfway between a nod and a bow.

That will do it then, Fischer said in closing. His expression of a possible appeasement had disappeared and had returned to one of grumpiness. Rob turned and left the office.

___

Rob approached Germaine. He had just returned from the check-in counter at Boston’s Logan Airport.

You’re not taking all that much with you, she said.

My shoulder bag is enough for most of the items and clothes. It’s very efficient for holding the important stuff and checks in as a regular bag.

Let’s go to that Thai cafe up the way.

Fine with me. He picked up his carry-on bag, and they began walking up the hallway.

In a way, I’d like to be going with you, Rob.

He grinned. This is strictly a one-man operation, Germaine.

Of course, I’m aware of that. It would be impossible even if I could take the trip.

Understood. You don’t get to bed until eleven most nights.

Or later now. Germaine was also involved in Professor Hugo Fischer’s professorial program. Like Rob, she was striving to be a full professor in the university’s anthropology department. She was about a year and a half behind him as far as that pursuit was concerned.

Rob was in his final phase of that program. He had achieved two master’s degrees: one in anthropology and the other one in history. History was his favorite of the two. But it was the anthropological end that was the key to his desired academic career. To find out more about the lost cities of the Andes was his primary objective not only academically but in life itself.

They continued walking down the airport hallway. The two came to the restaurant cafe, sat down, and ordered. Germaine set a briefcase down on the chair next to her. She extracted a portfolio from the inside and put it on the table.

You’re taking that everywhere now, eh? Rob muttered.

Have to. I need all the time I can get. She pulled a paper from the portfolio and began to study the document.

For Christ’s sake, I’m going to be gone for a month and a half.

Yes, yes. Be a little patient, Rob. The waiter came with their food.

You’ll have to move that thing, Germaine. She put the portfolio on the floor beside her chair but continued studying the document.

Hmmm… Rob is irritated.

Look, I’ve only got an hour before I fly down to Atlanta. I thought we could converse a little.

It’s just that I’m heavily involved in the descriptive ethnic-race issue.

Do you have to bring it home with you? She shook her head with a look of surprise.

Look who’s talking? When was the last time you didn’t bring the Lost City thing home with you?

Point taken, Germaine. I admit there are interesting, yes, sometimes fascinating aspects about your academia.

But you wanted to talk about something more personal.

Well, we haven’t been romantically involved in over two weeks.

Don’t look at me, mister. That isn’t my fault.

It’s not anybody’s fault, lady. We’ve both been so far into our stuff it doesn’t seem like there’s time for anything else.

It’s not only just sex, Rob; it includes seeing our relatives and going out at least once a week like we used to do.

Look, it’s evident that we both have been putting a lot into it. I’ve been pushing the envelope by not getting to bed before midnight lately. She cast a stark stare at him.

That’s no excuse for your lack of sexual enthusiasm. This remark got to Rob. He put down his fork.

Hey, lady, you’re as hard as a rock sometimes.

All right, all right, enough of this. She paused to swallow some noodles. We’ve both got reasons to be miffed. Your point about the time issue is the salient one. He appeared more relaxed now.

Of course, there’s another issue that affects us. It could be the main one.

What’s that?

Money! She was partially startled at his reply but waited to digest her shrimp and noodles before answering.

That hasn’t bothered our sex or nightlife, Rob.

It gets down to who we are, though.

What the hell do you mean by that? she said in a shrill voice, causing two women at a nearby table to turn and stare.

Take it easy.

Well, explain yourself.

Face it. We’re in a field that is not promising monetarily. And we’ve got that loan hanging over us.

So we all know that. Everyone knows that. So what are you getting at?

Just this, Germaine. Once our main academic pursuits are finished, we should start living a better life.

Good god, it sounds like you’re talking about some sort of promised land.

I’m talking about getting a book being published. Not only me but you too. Germaine paused to swallow some more food. Rob’s statement caused her to reflect on her own project.

You’ve got a point, Rob. I hadn’t thought about it that much, but it is an issue to think about. He waited a minute to finish his shrimp salad.

What are you into now, Germaine? I feel that you’re bothered by something.

Ha, actually, I’m glad you asked. I’m bothered by controversies that have come up.

Like what?

One is the race identification thing.

Hmm, what’s that all about?

Some bimbo in the sociology department read my most recent thesis.

So?

She challenged the authenticity of my description of certain interracial ethnic groups.

Okay.

You’d think she would have enough brains to know that there are only three races. And she considers herself an intellectual too.

Wait a second there, Germaine. You saw what the Census Bureau did in their last census taking.

I thought it was a joke at first.

Labeling people as races when they aren’t even a full ethnic group, except geographically.

Well, I got some ridiculous static from Ms. Rona Dodge—that’s her name.

From the sociology department. I think I’ve heard of her, maybe.

Either way, it doesn’t make any difference. She relies more on her egalitarian thinking as a primary source for facts.

How did she react to your thesis, Germaine?

She sent a critical analysis to us. Fischer got it first.

Oh, nice.

Even he thought it was amusing. When it got to our higher level, it hit the fan.

What was the outcome?

They sent a reply to departmental heads. They didn’t ask me to. I was a bit miffed there.

What was the gist of your thesis?

It had to do with traditional labels, Rob.

Like what?

In one part, I brought out that our traditional labels appear to conflict with most of the populace’s general perception of who is a member of a certain race and who isn’t.

What was your example?

That Nubian man, from the Nile Valley is considered white stock and not Negroid.

Um, yes, I can see the controversy there, Germaine.

Over here, he would be classified as black. In the old days, he wouldn’t have been allowed to drink from a white water fountain in the South.

Because of his color.

He’s a light brown.

This is the part that Ms. Dodge can’t accept. To her egalitarian instincts, black and brown, plus their variations, have to equate to Negroid.

She and some of the others ignore our anthropological details.

Totally.

Such as size and shape of the skull, nose, arms, and legs, to mention a few, eh, Germaine?

And blood type, etc.

That isn’t the first time those items have been ignored.

And it won’t be the last either.

The higher-ups must have been quick to respond. I can remember when such interplay resulted in an inter-departmental war.

It won’t this time, Rob. The sociological people have shaped up.

They want to avoid needless arguments, and so do we.

They’ve learned. But they’re not above just ignoring the issue.

They have, but what about Dodge?

They’ll put the dampers on her. She shouldn’t be any more trouble.

Good. Are you about finished?

Just about. What time is it? He glanced at his watch.

I’ve got another hour and a half. How are you doing with Fischer?

I’m not into the messy part yet.

Good. That guy can really be a butt when he doesn’t have to be. Rob saw that Germaine had finished her meal. He arose and picked up his carry-on bag.

The bag-checking place isn’t far from here, is it? she asked.

No. Let’s get going. She got up, and the two proceeded down the airport hallway.

___

CHAPTER 4

Atlanta, Georgia

R ob walked down the airplane aisle. He was among the early boarders. Not so crowded now, he thought. He lifted his carry-on bag up to the open compartment. He slid it inside.

He looked back at his ticket for a reconfirmation of the seat number. Let’s see, he mulled to himself. 21-B, that’s it. The next row. He