“Are you the man?” asked Rush stepping forward. He signed to the others behind his back and they all stilled, waiting for him.
“Step back, big man. I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“You’d be dead before you fired,” said Rush calmly. “It seems you and Rita here had a little scheme going, didn’t you?”
Both just stared at Rush, not saying a word.
“It was difficult. You two did a great job of covering it up but we found it. Rita, Margarite Ruvienne, is actually your step-sister. Best buddies since you were four and five. Nothing weird happening, we made sure of that. You just never know.”
“You’re sick,” said Bora.
“Maybe,” nodded Rush. “Life will make you that way sometimes. You two somehow got invited to that state dinner. You, as her big brother, made sure she was introduced to the future president. The writing was on the wall. You knew the political climate here was shifting and Ruvienne would be the next president.
“But you were smart. You knew you couldn’t kill him and expect to take over. Instead, you placed your sister in front of him, helped him get elected and waited. Waited patiently for his paranoia to take hold and destroy him all the while embezzling millions from the country.”
“He was weak,” growled Bora. “He was weak and pathetic. Bolivia needs a strong leader. Rita will make the perfect emotional vote. Poor, sweet, lost widow taking up her husband’s cause. Of course, before you assholes came down here she was going to be able to manipulate the cartels. Now, I have to start that process over again.”
“That process is done,” said Brooks.
Bora stared at them slowing putting the pieces together. He did this. He destroyed his plans.
“You bastard,” he muttered.
“What I haven’t heard,” said Brooks, “is how Rita, or should I say, Renee feels about all of this. What’s your role?”
She stood slowly, Bora now allowing her to do so. She stood to the side of the chair, her fingers digging into the leather. Turning to face her brother, she mouthed something, then looked back at the men.
“I knew nothing of this.”
Pushing herself aside, she waited, knowing what Bora would do. He lifted the weapon to shoot her first but before his finger could squeeze the trigger, a dozen weapons fired.
Rita, or Renee, hit the floor, covering her head as pieces of wood and leather flew through the air. Spatters of blood touched her skin and she screamed. When the noise stopped, Cowboy helped her to her feet.
“You must believe me,” she said. “I knew nothing of my step-brother’s plan.”
From the corner of the room a massive anaconda slithered across the floor, stopping at her feet. She froze, staring at the men.
“H-help me,” she whispered. Trak knelt beside the scaly beast and nodded.
“She is lying.”
“I-I’m not lying!”
“You turned to your brother and mouthed ‘forgive me’,” said Trak.
“I-I was just asking for his forgiveness for many things. It had nothing to do with this.”
“Lady, I don’t believe a fucking word you’re saying but we’ll let the Bolivian authorities take it from here,” said Brooks.
It would be days of explanations, twisted stories, and finally a phone call from the POTUS to the interim head of the government, to ensure the men could travel safely home.
All the work, all the time in the jungle, all the attempts to help Bolivia find peace and prosperity, were wasted.
Before they even touched down, the Bolivian media was praising Margarita Ruvienne, the still-grieving widow, for calling in help to bring down the cartels and rid the country of the true American invader, Bora.
“Un-fucking-believable,” said Brooks staring at the screen in the auditorium.
“Listen, we killed Bora, got rid of a huge chunk of the cartels and slowed the drugs and human trafficking, if only for a little while,” said Gator. “We should be proud of ourselves.”
