Can’t … stop … the … voices!
The Doctor demands that I write. And when he’s insistent, it’s best not to refuse. He’s got all those damn knives and such. Plus he’s just in a foul mood these days. Apparently they haven’t stopped cutting down the rainforests. Makes him a regular grouch to be around.
(He’s always around.)
Anyhow, here’s more from the origin vault, as I take a brief recess from the recently unearthed Visibility storyline. But trust me, that damn zombie laughs at headshots. It ain’t goin’ nowhere. We’ll just have to finish it for real this time.
Tales of a Shaman’s Apprentice
Part 9: Flames in Rio
“Sir? There is a gentleman here to see you. He has an appointment. Shall I show him in?”
Chief Oliveira absently waved in consent. He had a busy afternoon ahead of him, and was hoping to get this out of the way. The secretary stood at the entrance and nodded to the tall man entering before she excused herself.
“What can I do for you today… Mr. Campbell?” Oliveira barely glanced at the man as he read the name from his schedule.
“Doctor, actually. Doctor Sean Campbell.”
Oliveira looked up with more interest.
“My apologies, Doctor. I was not aware of your title. I am the Chief of Police for the district. My name is Bene Oliveira. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Chief Oliveira.”
Oliveira smiled at the polite tone. He often had to deal with impolite and flustered people in his position, and it was comforting to know that some people still engaged in the pleasantries of conversation.
“Well, what brings you to my office today, doctor?”
“I am interested in establishing some local offices here in Rio de Janeiro, and wanted to ask your advice on some basic security issues.”
“Is this for your practice?”
“No, no. I am not a medical doctor, Chief Oliveira. My training and background is in biological research. I am the head of a conservation and bioprospecting organization. Shaman Enterprises.” He flashed a smile, as if in the middle of an advertising pitch. “My job is to show the world what nature can offer them. The utilitarian approach. Basically, I assign worth. It’s a simple matter of human need and desire. After all, what good is the natural world if we receive no goods from it?”
“I must admit I am relieved, Doctor. I was getting concerned that you were the activist type.”
“No, of course not. This is hardly the time for starry-eyed idealists seeking to change the world. In fact, let me assure you…” The man’s eyes filled with shadows for an instant. “…I am here strictly on business.”
“Well, tell me of your concerns.”
The man asked Oliveira many questions about crime in different neighborhoods, the police presence, and security measures to be taken in establishing offices. He was curious to know which neighborhoods to avoid. Where the danger was greatest.
“The hillside barrios, doctor. You don’t want to establish any offices in the favelhas. Especially not Morrinho. Especially not today. Very risky, you know.” Oliveira described the problems of escalating crime, particularly in the hillside favelhas. Poverty was running rampant, and local crimelords had established strangleholds over the communities. They would offer occasional gifts and favors that were a great deal more than the government ever gave the citizens, and in turn gain control over all aspects of life and protection for when the police entered the favelhas. The more the criminals used these hillside barrios for their own means, the more the government funds had been channeled into anti-gang activities. Even less funding became available for the poor citizenry, and the crimelords’ petty gifts became that much more sought after. It was a vicious circle, but the administration was more interested in the destruction of these local crimelords than the results of sociological studies demonstrating that social aid to the people would short-circuit these patterns.
“Sounds like a complex situation,” said Campbell with a serious nod. “So the drug traffic is limited to these local crimelords? Perhaps if the influx were to be stopped, the quality of life…”
“Well, to be honest, drugs are hardly limited to the barrios. But the enforcement efforts are. There is traffic to some of the affluent citizens here in Rio, but we are not about to bring in police units for those people. You understand, of course…”
“Naturally, Chief. The law doesn’t apply when wealth comes into the question. These people energize the economy. They keep things running, and they’re truly the ones ‘electing’ the politicians. It’s true in Latin America, just as it is in most parts of the world. We all know this.”
“That’s good to hear. There are some out there, including in the scientific fields, who want things to change. You know the type. Activists. They want social justice and other such nonsense. How can we spend funds to pursue the wealthy when they represent our funding? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I understand completely. As I said before, I am a businessman. I suppose there are some in the biological sciences who have activist tendencies, but these people interest me very little. I am much more interested in my bottom line. And speaking of that, I’m certain that you have your affairs to deal with, just as I have mine. Let us conclude our business.”
“An excellent idea, doctor. I appreciate your honesty.”
Oliveira indicated several areas within the city interior that would be fruitful for Campbell to explore, full of executive office buildings and affluent hotels. The tourist district. With a healthy buffer zone between him and the poor neighborhoods where most of the people lived. As it should be. Campbell shot several dark looks at Oliveira as he continued pointing out highlights on the wealthier-than-thou tour of the city map. The chief did not notice as he offered a few more suggestions. The doctor thanked him for his time, promised to keep in touch, and left the office. He smoothly slipped into an adjacent vacant room, listening for a few moments. The Chief’s secretary entered again and spoke softly.
“Anything else, sir?”
“Get me BOPE operations on the line. I want to make sure everything is set for Morrinho this evening. Have the informants been in contact?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve had calls coming into three different department heads. The Vermelho heads should be in house for the operation.”
“Thank you, that is all.”
Campbell walked out of the police headquarters and took a phone out of his pocket. He pressed a button to autodial, and glanced around him. The other line picked up and he said simply “Morrinho,” before hanging up. He hailed a taxi in the bustling street. The meter was already running, as expected.
“Where to, sir?”
“Morrinho.”
The taxi driver turned to look at him.
“Are you sure, sir? Morrinho?”
“Yes.”
“That is one of the most dangerous barrios here, sir. It’s one of the favelhas in the hills. The entrance is guarded against outsiders by the Comando Vermelho. It is very violent.”
“What is the Comando Vermelho?”
The taxi driver stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “You must be a stranger to Rio, sir. The Comando Vermelho runs the city where the police do not. They are a criminal organization, and they do not take kindly to strangers. They let the locals around their camps live their lives, but outsiders are forbidden. You could get shot if you are seen, sir.”
Campbell thought for a few seconds. “Thank you for the advice. Morrinho.”
The taxi driver shrugged and they pulled away, heading towards the hills bordering the southwest corner of town.
The sun was just starting to set when the taxi rolled to a stop on the poorly paved road. From here, the best way to continue into the favelha was on foot. The steep hillside was covered with shacks desperately fighting gravity with crooked struts and pillars. Real estate was valuable enough in Rio de Janeiro that a nearly vertical cliff resembled an apartment complex with stacked shacks as its floors. A handful of winding footpaths served as the major traffic lanes for the people within, few of whom would have use for paved roads if they existed. Near the summit of the hills, where the ground leveled off, more affluent buildings had been constructed, together with a couple of helipads. Most of these were fortified in one manner or another, and there was little doubt about the source of wealth for these people. A large hacienda near the crest of the tallest hill had a vast, unobstructed view of the city. Turrets supporting high-caliber anti-aircraft weaponry were set up in various spots around the grounds and on the roof. There were several elite squads of guards in constant patrol of the hacienda and the surrounding buildings, as well as independent bands that roamed through the favelha, serving as enforcers.
Campbell stood at the foot of the path, which climbed up between two small stores and into the hills. He could barely see the walled compounds high above, including the distant hacienda. He bought a drink and bit into a piece of chicle, deep in thought. Another taxi pulled up and a tall black man got out. Campbell nodded to Marcel. The lone Guard of the Anaconda. His sole partner. With a few memory problems.
“This place reminds me of parts of Haiti, doctor. The bad parts.”
“We are climbing to the top of the hill. I would like to visit some people there.”
Marcel looked at him. Things were never as straightforward as one might like with Campbell. His life, as well as the lives of those who spent any time with him, tended to be full of unique experiences. Mostly involving danger and boatloads of stress. Marcel had a sneaking suspicion that the heavy pack that the doctor had requested he bring contained additional stress. In the form of weapons. Marcel glanced up the hill again, then back to the doctor.
“Is there a problem?”
“There might be complications, Marcel.”
“We are not expected?”
“No. The people who are not expecting us will be heavily armed. They do not like company. They are also not expecting the people who will be arriving soon after us. Those people will also be heavily armed.”
Marcel just stared at him for a moment. “We are walking into a battle on unfamiliar terrain? Is that wise, doctor?”
“Wise? No. But it may be useful. We will find out. Vamos.”
The daylight faded and colors deepened as they walked up the path into Morrinho. They received looks from the people they passed, and a few people asked politely if they were lost. When they replied that they were not, the people asked if they were sure. Campbell thanked them and assured them that they had business above. He continued with Marcel, followed by the watchful, nervous gazes of the townspeople.
“Wait.” Campbell gestured and they split up, each fading into the shadows of shacks on either side of the path. A teenager, no more than 15, walked by with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder. He was listening to an old Walkman and oblivious to the presence of the two men who slipped out behind him and continued climbing.
Campbell and Marcel came around a curve in the path and stopped. Two men were talking to an elderly woman, framed in the doorway of her small house. One of the men carried a pistol in his pants, and the other had a rifle slung. The woman was shaking her head repeatedly at their questions, and then pointed down the path, toward Campbell and Marcel. They ducked out of sight as the two men turned. The men continued down the path and passed the hidden figures, muttering.
“… can’t hear a fucking thing. He’s worthless.”
“He’s just a damn kid. Shouldn’t be out here anyhow. I’ll send him back up to the compound.”
Campbell walked back onto the path and passed the woman in her doorway. She stared at him with wide eyes, and closed the door most of the way. He simply nodded to her and said, “Good evening.” She stammered a greeting and shut the door completely. Marcel caught up to him.
“Do you think she will tell the others?”
“I doubt it. Besides, Morrinho are about to have more visitors. Louder ones.”
As he spoke, several sharp gunshots echoed up the hill. Campbell and Marcel looked down the hill and watched the two guards who had just passed them dashing for cover as four men in riot gear climbed the path and ducked behind buildings. There was no sign of the kid.
“Knock knock. Things are about to get interesting.”
To be continued…
Most of this story is inspired by background stuff from the movie “City of God,” which is very good if you have never seen it. I highly recommend it.
More to come. Watch as I juggle multiple storylines! Gasp in terror as I nearly drop them all, recovering my balance atop my narrative unicycle at the last moment with a deus ex machina-type cheat! Groan in disgust at yet another poorly concluded story which leaves you unsatisfied after months… or years… of waiting! Swear you’ll never read this steaming crap EEEEEVEERRRR again!
Uh… I mean, more to come.
(He’s always around.)
Anyhow, here’s more from the origin vault, as I take a brief recess from the recently unearthed Visibility storyline. But trust me, that damn zombie laughs at headshots. It ain’t goin’ nowhere. We’ll just have to finish it for real this time.
Tales of a Shaman’s Apprentice
Part 9: Flames in Rio
“Sir? There is a gentleman here to see you. He has an appointment. Shall I show him in?”
Chief Oliveira absently waved in consent. He had a busy afternoon ahead of him, and was hoping to get this out of the way. The secretary stood at the entrance and nodded to the tall man entering before she excused herself.
“What can I do for you today… Mr. Campbell?” Oliveira barely glanced at the man as he read the name from his schedule.
“Doctor, actually. Doctor Sean Campbell.”
Oliveira looked up with more interest.
“My apologies, Doctor. I was not aware of your title. I am the Chief of Police for the district. My name is Bene Oliveira. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Chief Oliveira.”
Oliveira smiled at the polite tone. He often had to deal with impolite and flustered people in his position, and it was comforting to know that some people still engaged in the pleasantries of conversation.
“Well, what brings you to my office today, doctor?”
“I am interested in establishing some local offices here in Rio de Janeiro, and wanted to ask your advice on some basic security issues.”
“Is this for your practice?”
“No, no. I am not a medical doctor, Chief Oliveira. My training and background is in biological research. I am the head of a conservation and bioprospecting organization. Shaman Enterprises.” He flashed a smile, as if in the middle of an advertising pitch. “My job is to show the world what nature can offer them. The utilitarian approach. Basically, I assign worth. It’s a simple matter of human need and desire. After all, what good is the natural world if we receive no goods from it?”
“I must admit I am relieved, Doctor. I was getting concerned that you were the activist type.”
“No, of course not. This is hardly the time for starry-eyed idealists seeking to change the world. In fact, let me assure you…” The man’s eyes filled with shadows for an instant. “…I am here strictly on business.”
“Well, tell me of your concerns.”
The man asked Oliveira many questions about crime in different neighborhoods, the police presence, and security measures to be taken in establishing offices. He was curious to know which neighborhoods to avoid. Where the danger was greatest.
“The hillside barrios, doctor. You don’t want to establish any offices in the favelhas. Especially not Morrinho. Especially not today. Very risky, you know.” Oliveira described the problems of escalating crime, particularly in the hillside favelhas. Poverty was running rampant, and local crimelords had established strangleholds over the communities. They would offer occasional gifts and favors that were a great deal more than the government ever gave the citizens, and in turn gain control over all aspects of life and protection for when the police entered the favelhas. The more the criminals used these hillside barrios for their own means, the more the government funds had been channeled into anti-gang activities. Even less funding became available for the poor citizenry, and the crimelords’ petty gifts became that much more sought after. It was a vicious circle, but the administration was more interested in the destruction of these local crimelords than the results of sociological studies demonstrating that social aid to the people would short-circuit these patterns.
“Sounds like a complex situation,” said Campbell with a serious nod. “So the drug traffic is limited to these local crimelords? Perhaps if the influx were to be stopped, the quality of life…”
“Well, to be honest, drugs are hardly limited to the barrios. But the enforcement efforts are. There is traffic to some of the affluent citizens here in Rio, but we are not about to bring in police units for those people. You understand, of course…”
“Naturally, Chief. The law doesn’t apply when wealth comes into the question. These people energize the economy. They keep things running, and they’re truly the ones ‘electing’ the politicians. It’s true in Latin America, just as it is in most parts of the world. We all know this.”
“That’s good to hear. There are some out there, including in the scientific fields, who want things to change. You know the type. Activists. They want social justice and other such nonsense. How can we spend funds to pursue the wealthy when they represent our funding? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I understand completely. As I said before, I am a businessman. I suppose there are some in the biological sciences who have activist tendencies, but these people interest me very little. I am much more interested in my bottom line. And speaking of that, I’m certain that you have your affairs to deal with, just as I have mine. Let us conclude our business.”
“An excellent idea, doctor. I appreciate your honesty.”
Oliveira indicated several areas within the city interior that would be fruitful for Campbell to explore, full of executive office buildings and affluent hotels. The tourist district. With a healthy buffer zone between him and the poor neighborhoods where most of the people lived. As it should be. Campbell shot several dark looks at Oliveira as he continued pointing out highlights on the wealthier-than-thou tour of the city map. The chief did not notice as he offered a few more suggestions. The doctor thanked him for his time, promised to keep in touch, and left the office. He smoothly slipped into an adjacent vacant room, listening for a few moments. The Chief’s secretary entered again and spoke softly.
“Anything else, sir?”
“Get me BOPE operations on the line. I want to make sure everything is set for Morrinho this evening. Have the informants been in contact?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve had calls coming into three different department heads. The Vermelho heads should be in house for the operation.”
“Thank you, that is all.”
Campbell walked out of the police headquarters and took a phone out of his pocket. He pressed a button to autodial, and glanced around him. The other line picked up and he said simply “Morrinho,” before hanging up. He hailed a taxi in the bustling street. The meter was already running, as expected.
“Where to, sir?”
“Morrinho.”
The taxi driver turned to look at him.
“Are you sure, sir? Morrinho?”
“Yes.”
“That is one of the most dangerous barrios here, sir. It’s one of the favelhas in the hills. The entrance is guarded against outsiders by the Comando Vermelho. It is very violent.”
“What is the Comando Vermelho?”
The taxi driver stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “You must be a stranger to Rio, sir. The Comando Vermelho runs the city where the police do not. They are a criminal organization, and they do not take kindly to strangers. They let the locals around their camps live their lives, but outsiders are forbidden. You could get shot if you are seen, sir.”
Campbell thought for a few seconds. “Thank you for the advice. Morrinho.”
The taxi driver shrugged and they pulled away, heading towards the hills bordering the southwest corner of town.
The sun was just starting to set when the taxi rolled to a stop on the poorly paved road. From here, the best way to continue into the favelha was on foot. The steep hillside was covered with shacks desperately fighting gravity with crooked struts and pillars. Real estate was valuable enough in Rio de Janeiro that a nearly vertical cliff resembled an apartment complex with stacked shacks as its floors. A handful of winding footpaths served as the major traffic lanes for the people within, few of whom would have use for paved roads if they existed. Near the summit of the hills, where the ground leveled off, more affluent buildings had been constructed, together with a couple of helipads. Most of these were fortified in one manner or another, and there was little doubt about the source of wealth for these people. A large hacienda near the crest of the tallest hill had a vast, unobstructed view of the city. Turrets supporting high-caliber anti-aircraft weaponry were set up in various spots around the grounds and on the roof. There were several elite squads of guards in constant patrol of the hacienda and the surrounding buildings, as well as independent bands that roamed through the favelha, serving as enforcers.
Campbell stood at the foot of the path, which climbed up between two small stores and into the hills. He could barely see the walled compounds high above, including the distant hacienda. He bought a drink and bit into a piece of chicle, deep in thought. Another taxi pulled up and a tall black man got out. Campbell nodded to Marcel. The lone Guard of the Anaconda. His sole partner. With a few memory problems.
“This place reminds me of parts of Haiti, doctor. The bad parts.”
“We are climbing to the top of the hill. I would like to visit some people there.”
Marcel looked at him. Things were never as straightforward as one might like with Campbell. His life, as well as the lives of those who spent any time with him, tended to be full of unique experiences. Mostly involving danger and boatloads of stress. Marcel had a sneaking suspicion that the heavy pack that the doctor had requested he bring contained additional stress. In the form of weapons. Marcel glanced up the hill again, then back to the doctor.
“Is there a problem?”
“There might be complications, Marcel.”
“We are not expected?”
“No. The people who are not expecting us will be heavily armed. They do not like company. They are also not expecting the people who will be arriving soon after us. Those people will also be heavily armed.”
Marcel just stared at him for a moment. “We are walking into a battle on unfamiliar terrain? Is that wise, doctor?”
“Wise? No. But it may be useful. We will find out. Vamos.”
The daylight faded and colors deepened as they walked up the path into Morrinho. They received looks from the people they passed, and a few people asked politely if they were lost. When they replied that they were not, the people asked if they were sure. Campbell thanked them and assured them that they had business above. He continued with Marcel, followed by the watchful, nervous gazes of the townspeople.
“Wait.” Campbell gestured and they split up, each fading into the shadows of shacks on either side of the path. A teenager, no more than 15, walked by with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder. He was listening to an old Walkman and oblivious to the presence of the two men who slipped out behind him and continued climbing.
Campbell and Marcel came around a curve in the path and stopped. Two men were talking to an elderly woman, framed in the doorway of her small house. One of the men carried a pistol in his pants, and the other had a rifle slung. The woman was shaking her head repeatedly at their questions, and then pointed down the path, toward Campbell and Marcel. They ducked out of sight as the two men turned. The men continued down the path and passed the hidden figures, muttering.
“… can’t hear a fucking thing. He’s worthless.”
“He’s just a damn kid. Shouldn’t be out here anyhow. I’ll send him back up to the compound.”
Campbell walked back onto the path and passed the woman in her doorway. She stared at him with wide eyes, and closed the door most of the way. He simply nodded to her and said, “Good evening.” She stammered a greeting and shut the door completely. Marcel caught up to him.
“Do you think she will tell the others?”
“I doubt it. Besides, Morrinho are about to have more visitors. Louder ones.”
As he spoke, several sharp gunshots echoed up the hill. Campbell and Marcel looked down the hill and watched the two guards who had just passed them dashing for cover as four men in riot gear climbed the path and ducked behind buildings. There was no sign of the kid.
“Knock knock. Things are about to get interesting.”
To be continued…
Most of this story is inspired by background stuff from the movie “City of God,” which is very good if you have never seen it. I highly recommend it.
More to come. Watch as I juggle multiple storylines! Gasp in terror as I nearly drop them all, recovering my balance atop my narrative unicycle at the last moment with a deus ex machina-type cheat! Groan in disgust at yet another poorly concluded story which leaves you unsatisfied after months… or years… of waiting! Swear you’ll never read this steaming crap EEEEEVEERRRR again!
Uh… I mean, more to come.