In the lobby there were three men who were obviously Rafael's men. Two seated on a sofa against a wall in the center of the room, one standing against the wall just inside the entrance. When Maribel and Luis entered, the two on the couch stood up quickly, and approached them.
"Miss Flores?" One asked. He was the shorter, thinner one of the two. While both looked fit, his companion was big enough to be a pro wrestler, the kind who tells you how big his biceps are and poses between wrestling moves. They wore suits, but the larger man's suit was on the verge of tapping out under an unbearable pressure.
Maribel smiled and replied, "Yes. I presume you are here to show us to the meeting room?"
"I am here to show you to the meeting room. Alex will stay here with your… assistant?" He said, eyeing Luis quizzically.
"No, he goes with me," Maribel said confidently, "or you can tell Rafael that your demands have made the meeting impossible, and I have left."
The spokesman for the two frowned. "In the case that you insist, I am to search him to make sure he carries no weapons. Would you put your arms out, please?"
"He will not," Maribel said pleasantly. "He has a gun. He will keep it. We assume that at least one of you has a weapon…" She looked at each of the three in turn as she spoke, "although you are probably less skilled with it than my man. Perhaps your numbers will help if it comes to a fight." She paused as he seemed to be struggling to process her words. "But, gentlemen, this is a cordial meeting, yes? There is no need for any talk of unpleasantness. We will talk, nothing more. Now, where is the meeting room?"
He looked at his hulking companion. Alex was cracking his knuckles. If the decision were his, she thought, they'd be fighting already. But she knew that no one in their right mind would let that brute make any important decisions. "I'm not sure I can allow that," he said finally.
From an adjacent hallway, Maribel noticed movement and another man walked into the lobby. As he approached, she took note of his clothing, dressed in an off-white linen suit, impeccably tailored, with a black pocket scarf. He wore shoes and a matching belt of what appeared to be alligator skin. He was smiling, a full warm smile as if greeting old friends. He was actually quite handsome. His features where a more mature and manly version of the typical male model. As if, instead of posing in front of a camera, he had worked as a real lumberjack for many years. From his file, she knew he was 43, but in person, he looked much younger. He was fit, but not overly muscular. He walked with a confident ease. "You are quite right, Miss Flores, this is a friendly talk, nothing more. There is no need for this foolishness," he nodded to the two men standing in front of Maribel and Luis. They quickly stood aside and stepped back against the wall. "Come," he said, "The meeting room is this way," he gestured back down the hallway from which he had just come. "He turned back to his men, "Javier, fetch another chair for… Luis, is it?"
"Yes, Luis is my personal assistant, and yes, my bodyguard as well."
Rafael looked at her, did his eyes slide down her body briefly? Maribel wasn't sure. "A very important job, indeed," he said, with a tone that could be interpreted several ways. His smile never dimmed or faded as he spoke. It was the kind of genuine smile that involved the whole face, giving the impression that he was happy to be among friends, rather than about to engage in a business discussion.
They walked down the hallway, and Rafael opened a door on the left. Another of his men stood against the wall outside the door. "Angel will make sure we are not interrupted. Please, sit down, Miss Flores." He walked around the table and sat down, as Maribel moved toward her chair, Luis pulled it out for her in a gentlemanly fashion. Rafael chuckled, "I see he is well-trained." Maribel's eyes flashed at the veiled insult, but just then there was a bustle at the door as Javier entered with another chair, matching the two already occupied at the table. He set it down to Maribel's left. As he did so, Rafael addressed Maribel.
"I hope you don't mind, I have arranged some refreshments. Javier, if you would."
As they waited for Javier, Rafael spoke again. "As you know, I am Rafael Camal de Leon, but please call me Rafi as all my close friends do. I am hoping that we will be good friends as well." His voice was smooth with just the slightest hint of a rasp, the kind a talented singer might use when trying to bring a little extra feeling into his song. It made his words seem more earnest, more genuine. Maribel almost wanted to be friends with him, to believe he wasn't the murderous drug-trafficker she knew him to be.
Javier returned, he carried a small tray, three small tumblers, each with a couple of ice cubes, and a decanter with a clear liquid. Javier poured the three glasses about a third of the way full. He put the first down with a napkin beneath it for Maribel, the second in front of Luis, and the third in front of Rafael. Then turned to leave the room.
Rafael picked up his glass and looked at it. Since you are far from your home in Peru, I thought you might enjoy some Pisco. Maribel picked up her glass, as she brought it closer to her face, her smile turned to a frown. "Oh." She said, putting it back down on the table.
Rafael frowned, quizzically, "Is something wrong?"
"You said Pisco, but this is Chilean. They also call it Pisco, but any true Peruvian will tell you it is not. They use the wrong grapes and process it incorrectly. Their flavors are, well… not authentic to true traditional Peruvian Pisco. It is a matter of pride for my country. Are you testing me, Rafi? Do you doubt that I am Maria Isabel Flores, late of Peru?" Maribel raised an eyebrow, challenging him.
Rafael laughed jovially. "I apologize, Maribel, if I may call you that? I must confess, my normally thorough researchers had trouble identifying the people behind Food First for a little while, then a few days ago, they found a lead that led them to you, with backing from your family. We found little information, even then, about you or your family, at first. It took some digging, I gather your father likes to work in the shadows, not calling attention to himself or his endeavors. I'm sorry, I find that sort of behavior… suspicious."
"In your line of work, that may be so," Maribel rejoined haughtily, "however, there are good people who do not feel the need for fame or public acclaim for their deeds."
"Indeed, I have heard that," Rafael said affably, "Personally, I find that having the good will of the people makes my future projects that much easier." He smiled broadly. Maribel thought again that it was a nice smile.
"So, let's get to business, Rafi," she said, "Why am I here?"
"Originally, he answered, it was to discuss business, but now I am wondering if it is just to enjoy the pleasure of your company and some intelligent conversation."
Maribel felt her cheeks flushing a little with embarrassment. She had been thinking something similar. "Seriously, what is this about?" She said more sternly.
"I would like to know more about your operation, perhaps I might provide a donation to help you expand to better cover northern and western Huehuetenango. If that works out well, perhaps even more areas."
She was a little taken aback, she realized that her body language had betrayed her, she had abruptly sat back when he said that. He had surprised her, and he knew it. "What would you like to know?" she asked.
He laughed, "First, do you know a good place to get a new phone? It seems my private line has been compromised, and I had to dispose of my old one." He laughed again, even Maribel smiled. "Seriously, though," he continued, "I am told your operation is doing great things for the farmers around Sacapulas. They say that Food First turns their corn into twice as much masa as they have ever been able to make with the same amount of corn. I didn't think that could be more than a simple farmer's exaggeration, but everyone we ask has the same story. Not just double, they say, but double with enough extra to give away to the poor. Tell me Maribel," he leaned forward, his smile fading into an intensity she couldn't quite place, "how is this possible?"
She shrugged, relieved. This was easy enough and a harmless question. "We have access to experimental processing machinery, using advanced techniques with active computerized in-process optimization based upon the specific make-up of the corn, or beans being processed. The exact technology is proprietary and a closely guarded secret. I'm told that the software must be keyed with a special dynamic code each day or the hard drive will scramble itself to prevent it from being copied. The professor who figured it out is quite paranoid when it comes to keeping his secrets, in my opinion, but his machine works so his eccentricities can be forgiven, I suppose."
Rafi was hanging on every word raptly, "Really?" he replied, "a professor, you say. Which University is he with?"
"I'm afraid I can't say."
"You can tell me," Rafi said conspiratorially, "It'll be our secret." His smile was back again.
She smiled back, "I'm afraid I can't. I don't know myself. He is one of my father's contacts, and I'm told he is even more reclusive than my father, though I find that hard to believe. I only know that it is a top school in the United States. He wanted to field test the unit in a remote location where it would not attract attention, but I see that perhaps Guatemala was not remote enough." She said, one eyebrow raised.
"Don't worry, your secret is safe here. Tell me though, could you expand the experiment with a second machine, perhaps with other crops?" He asked, suddenly intently serious again.
Luis tapped his finger on the tabletop twice, seemingly an absent-minded, nervous reaction. It was a code, of course, her father's men learned a series of signals they could use to communicate in tactical situations. Two taps meant: there is danger here.
Maribel paused to consider. Rafael, she knew, was only interested in certain kinds of crops, none of which were food crops. Here was his real goal. Taking the food shipment to his own farmers had been a ruse to arrange this meeting. He wanted to see if she could give him the key to doubling the yield of his cocaine and marijuana fields. That would be worth a fortune to him. Perhaps allowing him to remove rivals, to become one of the biggest players in the whole dirty enterprise.
She frowned, "What crops… specifically?" She asked, her eyebrows drawn downward, declaring her disapproval.
He put his hands flat on the table palms down and leaned forward as if he might leap over the table like a rabid dog. "Just answer the question, Maribel. Is it possible that this new technology could work on more than corn and beans?" To her left, she sensed Luis was tense and ready to respond to any hostile movement. She glanced at him, reassured by his presence. Then she wondered if even he could protect her from this man, Rafael. He suddenly seemed dangerous in a way beyond her comprehension.