Let the Music Play - 8. Going Public

Dashing into the main corridor; Brandon, who knew the studio layout better than anyone, took a guess at Gabe’s likely route; down the emergency stairs to the parking garage. Running down the hall and then yanking open the heavy fire door, Brandon heard running footsteps echoing up from below; he’d guessed right. Bolting down the stairs, taking them three at a time, Brandon gained a little ground on the fleeing man, but Gabe had a good head start, and charged through the door into the parking garage while Brandon was still three floors behind.

Dashing out into the underground parking garage, Brandon realized that he had no idea where Gabe parked, or for that matter, what he drove. Guessing that Gabe had to be close by, Brandon stopped to listen, hearing the roar of an engine coming from further down.

Looking around in vain for some way to stop a car, Brandon heard the squeal of approaching tires, jumping out of the way before Gabe tore by. Returning to the stairs, Brandon ran up one flight to the entrance level, at a loss as to how he’d stop Gabe’s car.

Emerging from the stairs just as Gabe ripped by, Brandon breathed a sigh of relief as he caught sight of the traffic on Wilshire through the entrance. Running hard, he caught up with the fleeing car as Gabe struggled to nose into the gridlock.

Seeing Brandon in the rearview mirror, Gabe leapt from his car, fleeing on foot. Brandon spared a breath to chuckle to himself as he realized how easy chasing down the middle-aged, out-of-shape man would be. Brandon closed the remaining gap as Gabe pulled even with the hotel’s main entrance, slamming a hand down on Gabe’s shoulder, bringing the now-wheezing man to a stumbling halt.

Pulling him around, Brandon asked with a grin, “Going somewhere? What’s your hurry?”

Still short of breath, Gabe growled, “Get your fucking hand off of me.”

Noticing a flash of light, Brandon nodded, “Fine, we’re just waiting here for that police car.”

Gabe turned to see an LAPD cruiser shouldering its way through the traffic, lights flashing but no sound coming from its siren. His shoulder drooping, he gave a halfhearted shrug against Brandon’s firm grasp, as the cruiser pulled up alongside.

As the police officers stepped out, Chase, Eric, and Jon arrived at a full run, startling one of the officers enough so that he rested his hand on the butt of his service revolver.

Throwing his arms around Brandon, hugging him tight and not letting go, Chase gasped, “I’m glad you’re okay...”

Brandon began to return the hug, when he remembered that they were on a busy street and Chase was famous. Realizing that the hug had gone on for far too long to appear casual to the gathering observers, he squirmed out of Chase’s grasp, attempting to act as casually as he could. Turning away from Chase, Brandon never noticed the hurt in those blue eyes as Chase misread Brandon’s actions.

Eying the four shirtless musicians for a moment, the officer turned his attention to Gabe, “Mister Gabe Winters, I presume? We have a warrant for your arrest,” glancing towards Brandon for a moment, he added, “let’s see some ID from both of you.”

Backing away a few paces, the members of Instinct watched as the officers checked both sets of ID before slapping the cuffs on a fuming Gabe, before reading him his rights and depositing him in the back of their cruiser.

A flash of light from his left caused Brandon to spin around, only to be dazzled as another bright flash went off in his face.

The Photographer snapped a few more frames, a few on each member of the band, devoting a little more attention to the three brothers, and ignoring Brandon’s evident discomfort, while the three brothers looked on, unconcerned.

Eric noticed Brandon’s confusion, tapping him on the shoulder to say, “Welcome to the wonderful world of paparazzi. Just ignore ‘em.”

One of the officers returned, flipping open a notebook with authority, just as Helen huffed onto the scene. Fixing his attention on Brandon, the officer, ignoring the nearby shutterbug’s continued activity, asked, “What was your role in this?”

Helen barged between them, causing the officer to back away a single pace as she said, “He was pursuing a fugitive from justice. He witnessed the man discovering that the police were about to serve an arrest warrant, and witnessed the fugitive taking flight. He’s broken no laws, but the man in the back of your car most certainly has.”

The officer glared at Helen. “What might your role in all this be?”

“I’m the one who phoned my friend, your captain, to report the fleeing fugitive,” replied Helen in a flat tone.

Narrowing his eyes, the officer countered, “I need to ask him,” he nodded towards Brandon, “some questions, if you don’t mind.”

Making a snap decision, Helen replied, “Very well, but he won’t answer unless I approve; he’s the new lead singer of Instinct and I’m their manager.”

“That might be a German Polka band for all I know,” the officer paused as he took note of the closest paparazzo’s sudden interest in Brandon, and realizing he’d be in the pictures too, the officer added in a rush, “All I need to know is, were any crimes committed during this incident?”

Shaking his head after receiving an approving nod from Helen, Brandon replied, “Except for the fact he took off like a shot when he heard he was going to be arrested, nothing that I’m aware of.”

Noticing a second photographer racing up, the officer shrugged, rolling his eyes towards the smoggy sky before replying, “That should do it; I might need to send someone around for statements later.”

Nodding graciously, Helen stood her ground as the officer retreated to his cruiser. After consulting his radio, the officer said, “The suspect’s car isn’t blocking traffic, so I’ll leave it there; the tow-truck is already en-route from just a few blocks west of here.”

With their lights flashing, the police car nosed into the gridlocked traffic, and Helen savored the sight of Gabe inching his way towards jail. Turning towards the busy shutterbugs, she motioned for her four shirtless charges to join her as she told the paparazzi, “Gentlemen, this is your lucky day. You’ve got a scoop: this,” she patted Brandon on the shoulder, “Is Brandon Wolfe, now the lead singer of Instinct. He’s also just aided the police in apprehending someone charged with defrauding Instinct’s road crew. Now, gentlemen, you missed the action, but because I’m in a generous mood, I might be willing to ask Brandon and the rest of the band to re-create a little of the chase for your cameras. Interested?”

Not used to being addressed by their normally unwilling subjects, the two paparazzi exchanged a glance before nodding with enthusiasm in anticipation of what a scoop like this, complete with action photographs, would bring them.

Under Helen’s deft control, Brandon and the three brothers had their photographs taken running from the building, tearing down the sidewalk, and dodging through the near-stationary traffic. After posing for a few photos sitting on the hood of Gabe’s abandoned car, a relieved Brandon noticed Helen’s signal to head for the hotel lobby.

The paparazzi, in a rush to file their story, did not follow. As soon as Helen had her charges back in Eric’s suite, she turned on Brandon with a roar, “That was incredibly stupid. You could have been hurt, or gotten into legal trouble, or worse. Don’t you ever do that again.”

Brandon had been feeling pretty good when he’d entered the suite, right up until Helen’s unexpected tirade knocked him back on his heels. Before he had a chance to utter a word in his own defense, Jon, in a testy voice, interjected, “There’s no reason to be rude. Cool down a little, okay?”

Helen stood her ground. “You lot are almost as bad; and you damn well know better; charging off like that was just plain stupid.”

His own temper beginning to show, Jon replied, “We couldn’t let Brandon go alone. Or are you perhaps suggesting that we should have?” Jon paused to let his point sink in before adding, “Okay, running down Gabe was risky, but you sure latched on to the results pretty quick.”

Taking note of the four sets of resolute eyes, hiding her pleasure at seeing the guys behaving as a group, Helen changed her tack, “Very well, but it was still a dangerous move, and granted, it ended well, but there is no sane reason to take such a risk. I’m just saying; be careful, all of you. Think about what could have happened, not what did happen. It is, after all, part of my job to keep you four safe.”

Tempers cooling, all five sat down, as Chase asked Brandon with a smile, “Do you know what happened out there, with the paparazzi?”

“I think so. Helen gave ‘em my new name and basically announced me.”

With a chuckle, Helen replied, “A bit more than that, hon; I gave those bozos a scoop; and the photos of you four running around shirtless, along with the story and your announcement, will make this one hell of a big story. I also said you went after someone who was ripping off the crew; the fans will eat it up. This is about the best coming-out you could have had, even better than the Rolling Stone spread. In fact, I’ll wager that they’ll be calling me within hours, wanting to do an even bigger piece.”

Eric, smiling sweetly, said to Helen, “Yeah, there should be some good coverage. I’m sure glad you had everything covered, and Brandon isn’t undercover anymore.” Catching the fierce warning in Helen’s eyes, he decided to change the subject, “What was that you were saying on stage, about help from an unexpected source, and Dad’s cooperating?”

Glancing at her watch, Helen said, “I have to go meet him at the police station. This is too much to explain right now. Trust me on this for an hour or so, ‘k?”

With a nod and a puzzled look, Eric agreed, as did the others. With that, Helen left in her usual hurried manner, sparing only a gentle word to Brandon, “Could you follow me out for a minute, hon?”

As soon as they were outside the door, she made a beeline for the elevator at the far end of the corridor as she told Brandon, “Sorry I blew up at you, but that was a risky move you pulled, it ended well, but it could have been a disaster. One thing you may not be aware of is liability. If any of you had hurt anyone, even Gabe, or caused so much as a fender-bender, the four of you would almost surely have been sued. It’s not just yourself you have to think of now; it’s those three in there, too,” Helen turned to look into Brandon’s eyes as she impatiently stabbed at the elevator’s call button.

Chastened, Brandon nodded in agreement, and Helen stepped into the elevator as soon as it arrived, flipping open her phone as she said, just before the door hissed shut, “Please be careful, and think before you go charging off, for both your sake, and theirs. Bye, hon.”

* * *

Arching an eyebrow as soon as Helen and Brandon had exited the suite, Jon chuckled, “I guess he wouldn’t know; it’s obvious to us what they’ll want, but not to him. Okay, for his sake, we’ll keep him in the dark.”

“He was nervous enough about the photo shoot before, so yeah, I think it’s best he doesn’t know,” Chase said.

Jon’s phone began to chime in his pocket, and he flipped it open to listen, before ending the call with a simple, “We thought of that too, so thanks, and we won’t say a word,” before turning to his brothers and reporting, “That was Helen, warning us not to tell Brandon.”

* * *

As soon as Brandon returned, he was greeted by three voices, “Hello, Mr. Wolfe.”

Eric added, “Cool stage-name dude...”

“Thanks, Helen came up with it, but it’s not my stage name; I signed an application to make it my legal name. She said you guys had done the same when you changed to ‘Carlisle’. I wanted to break with my folks and my past, so I was all for it.”

After a few more comments, and a quick discussion as Jon made sure Brandon had signed all the needed contracts, Brandon asked, “What was the deal with those photographers?”

With an angry grunt, Jon replied, “Paparazzi, also known as scum of the earth, fucking assholes, and every other bad name in the book. Those jerks make our lives hell; they literally stalk us, and anyone else considered a ‘celebrity’, snapping pictures and being really obnoxious. They then sell the pictures to tabloids and other publications; they’re a big part of why we have such a hard time going out in public.”

Eric nodded in assent, “Yeah, they won’t leave people alone, they think they’ve got a right to shove a camera in your face every damn second. Like Jon said, they stalk their targets; it wasn’t a coincidence they were here today. They likely have the damn hotel staked out. Now they know about you, you’re in the same boat with us; they’ll never leave you alone. Hell, you’ll probably get it a lot worse, being the lead singer.”

Jon added, “Don’t worry about it; we know a few tricks for screwing with ‘em, and we’ll show you the ropes. They’re just a pain to have around, is all.”

Trying to take the news in stride, Brandon asked, “You guys ready for some more rehearsals?”

Winding up a set a couple of hours later, they heard Helen arrive on stage to tell them, “I’ve got someone you need to meet.”

Brandon, Eric, and Jon grabbed their shirts from where they’d dumped them that morning and pulled them on, but Chase hadn’t had one with him, so followed along, totally at ease without one as Helen ushered the four guys into their lounge. A short, wavy-haired man stood to greet them. Helen pointedly made no introductions, a fact that did not escape Brandon’s notice.

Nodding at their guest, Helen announced, “This gentleman was our unexpected source of help regarding Gabe. At the police station today he supplied the last piece of the puzzle regarding Gabe’s activities; a couple of the old hands had questioned the policy change regarding their rooms and meal stipends; most of them were unaffected by it, but a few were, a rather stupid move on Gabe’s part if you ask me. They decided to ask someone in charge and they picked the lead singer, Lump, who confirmed the change and told them to drop it. In other words, Lump was probably in on it in some way.”

Jon reacted first. “That fucking asshole, he’s...” Catching Helen’s warning glance, and the slight wince from their guest, a puzzled Jon left the sentence unfinished.

Running his fingers through his hair, the middle-aged visitor shook his head, smiling sadly, “Helen, no worries, he’s right.”

Turning to the three brothers, he added, “The possible good news mentioned earlier is that your parents might be coming around, at least a little. They did ask about you, all three of you, and there was no resistance when I explained the situation, and told them what was needed. I’ve been working on your father for a while; he’s a pig-headed ass at times, but he’s coming around. I’m one of the few people he can’t ignore; he and I are partners in a couple of businesses.”

Eric put it all together first, mumbling in surprise, “Jerry Clump... But, why would you...”

Raising a hand to interrupt, Jerry replied, “I know what you must think,” a melancholy look crossed his face, “I’m Joe’s father, so why am I doing this? That much is easy to explain; Joe and I haven’t spoken in a year. I’m repulsed by what he’s become; the drugs, the arrogance, and yes, the homophobia. I fear I’m the one to blame for much of this; when he found out that I’m gay, it effectively ended our relationship. That was also when he began his downward spiral with drugs and all the rest a year ago.”

Running his fingers through his thick hair, his sad eyes cast down, Jerry continued, “My suspicion is that he couldn’t deal with the idea that his old man is gay. He threatened to out me, including to your father. He hasn’t, yet. As a result, your father and I are still on good terms, and I’ve been trying to bring him around on this issue. I’ll come out to him when the time is right.”

The four members of Instinct glanced at their manager, who gave them a slight nod. Eric turned back to their guest to say, “Thank you for what you’ve done, but you must know we’d have a hard time trusting anyone connected to Lum... er, Joe.”

Relaxing a little, easing back in his chair, Jerry replied, “I wouldn’t expect you to, and fortunately, there’s no need for it. I’m asking one thing and one thing only; if Joe ever comes around, as I believe he will, lend him an ear if he needs it, maybe put in a good word for him to get him a job somewhere, and above all let me know. If he’s willing to go to rehab, offer to pay for it and I’ll supply the funds. He won’t take anything directly from me but I need someone to be there for him when he hits bottom, because if there isn’t, I don’t think he’ll make it. That’s the only thing I ask. In return, I’ll keep working on your father, and also be of help in any way I can, including on this fraud ring. If Joe is arrested, it might give him a chance to dry out, and my number-one priority is to get him off drugs before it’s too late.”

The four members of Instinct shared a glance, and seeing that they had nothing to lose and much to gain, reached a silent agreement, voiced by Jon, “Sounds good to us. We won’t have him back as our singer, but we don’t want to see him hurt, either.”

Smiling, with an air of relief, Jerry replied, “Thank you. I just want to save my son. You should also know that my freight company, which has no connection to your father, provided your group’s cargo transport on your prior tours. I did that at cost, and I will continue to do so. Due to the trust issue, this will no longer be paid for in advance if you wish to continue with me for future tours, I’ll bill afterwards instead. I’ll take no offense if you prefer not to do business with me, so just consider this an open offer, no need to commit until a week prior to your next tour. Just, please, help me save my son.”

Eric spoke first, “We’d do that even without the rest. Make sure Helen has a way to get in touch with you, and the second we hear anything, you’ll hear from us.”

With a sad smile, Jerry stood up, thanking everyone for their time and concern, shuffling towards the door, his shoulders slumped, taking his leave with a thankful nod before easing the door closed behind him.

Helen broke the silence. “Now you know why I wanted you to hear it for yourselves. I phoned his company, hoping to browbeat a secretary into handing over what I needed against Gabe. They transferred the call to him, and I had no idea who it was on the other end. He was reluctant until I explained, and then he faxed some documents to me, and then identified himself. I was surprised to say the least. He arranged to meet me at the police station, and we had time to talk. I wormed his story out of him; Lump caught him in bed with a guy, and that’s how Lump found out his father’s gay. Lump’s mother died quite a few years ago, so there was no one else involved. Jerry, as you can probably tell, seems to blame himself for Lump’s downward slide.”

Scratching his head, Brandon asked, “I don’t know much of the background here, but does the timing fit? Did Lump change suddenly?”

“Sort of; Lump was into drugs when we met him, but not heavily. He’s always been an asshole, but he got way worse real fast, and it was about a year ago, so I guess that fits.” Jon replied.

With a sad look, Chase interjected, “Do we have anything to lose by doing what he asks? I hate Lump’s guts, but I don’t see the harm. The big thing I see is it’s a chance to bring Mom and Dad around, and be a family again.”

Helen shrugged, “The only thing he asked of me was for a chance to make his case to you guys. He seems sincere, but I don’t like trusting anyone connected to Lump. However, nothing he’s asked requires any trust on our part. Your tour gear is insured, so even that’s not at risk, and he didn’t ask for that to continue, just made it an offer. It is a good deal cost-wise, by the way. His main issue is about Lump, and I can’t see any harm at all in going along there. If it worked it might even defuse our problem regarding the threats Lump was making.”

After sharing a glance with his band-mates, the unspoken question asked and answered, Jon replied. “I don’t think we can do much, but sure, why not? Besides, I think we may need his help in the case against Gabe and Lump, and this way he’ll give it. He sure looked sad though, as if he’d killed Lump himself. ”

“I think that’s how Jerry feels; that’s his only son, and he’s destroying himself; we all know he is. That’s one lonely man. I’ll see if I can talk some sense into him; nobody should have to bear guilt like that,” Helen replied, before changing the subject, “Okay, down to business. The interviews and photo shoot are the day after tomorrow. The good news is that they’re coming here; the hotel has consented to close the pool for the outdoor shoot and allow them to set up for some indoor shots in a conference room. The interviews will be conducted around the photo shoots.”

With butterflies taking wing in his guts, Brandon asked, “What should I do to get ready?”

Standing before replying, Helen said, “Tomorrow, I want you guys to shift your practices so you are free all afternoon. At noon sharp, I want all of you to be getting some sun; like I’ve said before, studio lights and the outdoor reflectors can really pale you out, and I don’t want to resort to makeup; the natural look is always better. The next day, an hour before the shoot, I want you all to do some crunches so your abs are at their best. Oh, one more thing; no alcohol the night before, and get plenty of sleep.”

Without waiting for a reply, Helen left, and the guys returned to their long hours of rehearsals.

While the group took a five-minute break, Chase slumped forward a little, staring at his drums, instead of being his normal upbeat self. Brandon noticed the change and approached to ask, “Hey, you okay? You seem pretty down?”

With a smile he didn’t feel, Chase replied, “Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking about a change to my drum solo.”

Brandon nodded, unconvinced until he saw Chase’s infectious grin, and returned re-assured to his position behind the mike. Eric plucked the opening notes to the next song on his bass, as Chase watched Brandon’s bare, sweaty back, wondering why he had to feel so attracted to someone who didn’t feel the same way. Was it just physical, he wondered? Chase shook aside that thought as he hit the cymbals to begin the drum sequence, thinking of Brandon’s other qualities; he was caring, compassionate, and unselfish, with a personality that drew you in. The only outward sign of his inner turmoil manifested itself as Chase stamped down on a drum pedal just a little too hard, as he resolved to keep his hurt to himself.

A couple of hours later, as they retired to the suites for the night, Jon headed for his shower, and Eric, having noticed something earlier, offered Brandon the use of his. As soon as Brandon was in the shower, Eric made his way to Chase’s suite, finding his brother standing on the balcony, staring into the distance. Throwing an arm around his little brother, Eric asked, “Something’s eating you. What’s up?”

* * *

Staring out of her office window at an amazing fiery California sunset painting the sky with oranges and pinks, which was the only positive side effect of the smog, Helen was pleased with the way things had gone, though there was one item still weighing on her mind. Picking up the phone, she dialed her partner’s number, waiting for her to pick up before saying, “Hi Barbra... Would you mind if I invited a friend to have dinner with us at our house later this week? His name’s Jerry and he really needs some friends right now...”

* * *

Half a world away, Dimitri, chafing at being saddled with what he considered to be babysitting duties, snarled at the engineer, “Vladimir, we’ve been over this before. You are to remain here in the hotel. The streets of Buenos Aires are not safe after dark and going out would be an unnecessary risk. We leave in the morning, try and be patient. In the meantime, busy yourself with finalizing your designs.”

The engineer, bored with his confinement, replied, “What is the point of being here, anyway? I’m not allowed to go out, and you don’t go out, so why did we come here, instead of going to the assembly location, whereverthat is.”

Sighing, idly wondering if The Scar would let him dispose of this nuisance personally after the job was done, Dimitri replied levelly, “All you need to know is that we are waiting, and will be leaving tomorrow. We will be at the assembly lab within forty-eight hours thereafter.”

The following morning, the two men made their way to the airport for the two-hour flight north. Dimitri had traveled the route before, so sat back to watch the engineer’s reactions after the plane had touched down at Iguazu’s small airport.

The engineer, seated next to a window, did not disappoint. Upon seeing a farm tractor used to tow the airliner, he shrugged; he remembered life under the Soviets all too well to be surprised by such adaptations. As they approached the terminal, the engineer’s look of astonishment turned to abject horror. “Brick? They used brick to build a jetway? How on earth did they think they could make them move?”

Dimitri chuckled, “They could not. The terminal was built by people who had never seen a jetway and did not understand that it had to move and extend to mate with an aircraft. That is why they are boarded up inside and the upper level is now merely offices.”

The two men watched, bemused, as an old pickup truck, towing a flight of rusty stairs, pulled up to the side of the aircraft as it came to a halt on the tarmac near the terminal.

After deplaning and gathering their luggage from where it had been unceremoniously heaped on the tarmac, the men walked through the small terminal. Picking the nearest cab, Dimitri told the driver, “The Sheraton Hotel.”

As they pulled out of the airport and turned towards the west, the engineer asked, “They have a Sheraton out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

With an amused nod, Dimitri replied, “Indeed, and in a location so spectacular that you will not believe it.”

Fifteen minute later, the taxi deposited them at the hotel entrance. The engineer was astounded to see the modern hotel, seemingly isolated in the jungle, with just a small row of shops out front. His puzzlement was to be short-lived, as they strode into the lobby, and he took in the view through the enormous glass wall making up the north side of the building. Dropping his suitcase in shock, the engineer stared out at the view, his mouth finally forming the words, “Mother of God...”

Dimitri chuckled at the engineer’s astonishment, casting his own gaze out the window, across the green fields and tropical vegetation to the rising mists and enormous cascades a mile away, “Spectacular isn’t it, Vladimir? It makes the Niagara Falls in North America look small in comparison; these are twice the height and far wider, and the water flow is nearly ten times as much. What you can see here is merely one part; the cascades are over three miles wide. It is the most spectacular waterfall on the planet.”

After checking in, and leaving the engineer to stare at the falls from the balcony, Dimitri began making phone calls; Iguazu was far more than a waterfall. Nearby stood the meeting point of three nations; Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina. As a result, the region had long been a nexus for smugglers, arms dealers, spies, and terrorists. For Dimitri and The Scar it was a shopping mall of sorts, one they both knew well.

Replacing the phone in its cradle, Dimitri escorted the engineer to a small tourist train. The engineer had not been informed who they were to meet, and he knew better than to ask.

Disembarking the small, open-carriage train after a fifteen-minute ride through the tropical forest, Dimitri wiped the sweat from his brow, though the oppressive humidity and heat had little to do with his discomfort.

Checking his watch Dimitri muttered, “We have about a ten-minute walk,” as he led the engineer towards a small pathway, bedecked with a sign with an arrow and the words ‘Garganta del Diablo’.

Responding to the Engineers puzzled glance at the brown wooden sign, Dimitri said, “It means ‘The Devil’s Throat’. A canyon intersecting a curve in the river creates Iguazu falls. It is a huge river, nearly a mile wide but quite shallow, with many tiny islands. We are above the falls here, and this trail becomes a raised walkway across the river, crossing a few of the islands, until we reach the lip of the falls.”

The engineer noticed Dimitri’s tension, though he was oblivious to its cause. Proceeding down the narrow metal walkway, less than ten feet above the surface of the murky water, it seemed pleasant enough to him. After standing aside to allow some approaching, thoroughly-drenched tourists to pass, Dimitri added, “It is better now than the last time I was here; this walkway had been largely destroyed by a flood. Only the section near the lip of the falls remained, and you had to go from the segment behind us to the remaining walkway via a small skiff with an outboard motor. The boatman was skilled and navigated the current well, but had the motor failed, the resulting view of the falls would, I’m sure, have been both spectacular and final.”

Crossing over the final small island, passing over the increasingly agitated waters, the two men continued to walk, with Dimitri in the lead, until they approached the lip of the falls. Ahead of them lay a few more yards of walkway, and beyond that, a viewing deck partially cantilevered out past the lip, perched precariously upon a rocky outcropping in the rushing waters of the Iguazu River. The thunderous roar pounding at their ears shook the walkway as they approached the deck. The engineer glanced around, finally understanding what he was seeing: a narrow canyon jutting into a broad sheet of the river above, creating a cascade on all three sides. Dimitri seized the trembling railing at the edge of the overlook, as the engineer stared down in wonder at the seething cataclysm below, and understood why the place bore the name ‘The Devil’s Throat’.

Dimitri, shaken by his fears, glanced around, soon spying a familiar profile. Repressing his urge to leave, he strode over, portraying an air of confidence far from what he truly felt. The Scar turned towards him, his spray-soaked bald head glistening in the lowering sun, to greet Dimitri, “Good to see you. The noise should give us privacy, and you must admit the view is superb; I never tire of it. The feeling of raw power here is unsurpassed; you can feel it, coursing through you as the earth itself quivers, as though the gods themselves tremble in fear. I see you have our engineer friend in tow, excellent. I must speak with him, but the shopping trip has gone well; it appears that we will have all that we shall need. Come; let us get down to business... ”