Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators

Excerpt from the new novel, Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators, by Shaman Elizabeth Herrera

Mr. Petrola was the newly appointed Minister of Culture for the Republic of Peru. His office was located in the administration building in Lima’s old downtown, taking advantage of the low-rent space. The minister fanned his face in the hot, dimly lit room while looking out the window at the desolate city below. Few tourists traveled to the historic district, instead preferring the restaurants, galleries and bars closer to the beach that had recently been constructed by foreign investors.

It was not in the budget to retrofit the obsolescent building with central air, which meant the minister had to rely on the window units that were losing the war against the afternoon sun. He moved the metal fan on his desk from one side to the other, hoping to counteract the heat rising from the first floor. As the fan oscillated, his paperwork sailed into the air, fluttering to the floor. He got up to gather the papers, perspiring even more.

He stacked the papers into new piles on his desk away from the fan. He smiled as he placed a painted rock on each pile, remembering the day Maria, one of his eight children, gave him the handmade birthday gifts. With paint-stained hands, she had set the rocks on the kitchen table for him to admire.

Two men, who appeared to be Americans by the style of their clothes and sweaty, pale faces, entered his office. Mr. Petrola greeted them, wondering how they got past the receptionist.

One of the men said in Spanish, “ˇPerdón! Sorry to barge in, Mr. Petrola, but there was no one at the front desk. Perhaps the receptionist took a break. No?”

The minister forced a smile and said, “Buenas tardes. What can I do for you?”

“Please excuse our rudeness. My name is Bill Taylor and this is my associate, Larry Reynolds. We’re from the Resourcex Corporation.”

“Please have a seat,” the minister diplomatically offered. The men sat on worn, wooden chairs. “Would you like something to drink? Bottled water…cola? I can have Isabella bring it in.”

Bill replied, “No, thanks. Let me get to the point. We have a wonderful opportunity for this community and possibly you as well.” The other man silently nodded in agreement. “All we’re asking for is your official endorsement to explore the rainforest. Just to see what’s out there.”

Mr. Petrola cleared his throat knowing his answer would not please them. “The rainforest is home to indigenous people who’ve lived there thousands of years, and protected by international law.”

Bill smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “Of course. We don’t mean them any harm. Just a little exploration couldn’t hurt. And, we’ll make sure to pay the fees, including those of inconveniencing you, just to hunt and peck for a few weeks. No harm could come of that, now could it?”

“Actually, it could be very dangerous. The tribes will protect their land, even kill for it. It’s not a good idea. People will get hurt.”

“There are lots of ways to get hurt. You could have a tragic accident on the way home. Nobody can predict these things. But, we do know our company can’t succeed playing by the rules, Mr. Petrola. Rules are meant to be broken. Now, you’re the man who protects the tribes’ rights and we’d like your help.”

The minister’s heart rate increased at the veiled threat. He despised these corrupt bullies and was about to tell them to leave, when Bill said, “Since you’re a family man, I assume you want what’s best for your children. I believe your eldest daughter is fifteen.” His associate got up to close the door. Bill waited for Larry to sit back down. “We can offer you a substantial amount of money for nothing more than letting us see what’s in that jungle of yours. If nothing’s there, nobody’s the wiser.”

Visibly tense, Mr. Petrola answered, “I don’t have the power to allow you to remove natural resources from the rainforest…that involves people with a lot more authority.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it, should it come to that.” Bill pulled out a notepad from his breast pocket to write on. He tore off the top sheet, then slid it face down on the desk. “Take a look. I think you’ll like what you see.”

Mr. Petrola picked up the paper, stunned at the large monetary amount jotted on it.

“That’s more than you’ll make in five years, and it can be yours tomorrow. Think what it’ll mean for you and your family...you could create a kids’ college fund, and a new life for yourself, away from this godforsaken heat and corruption.” Bill laughed at his own joke, then stopped, becoming serious again. “The mayor’s already on board and won’t be happy if you undermined this opportunity. All you have to do is publicly support our exploration. We’ve prepared statements for you, just in case the media or environmental nuts harass you.”

“Do we have an agreement?” Bill asked.

The minister solemnly nodded his head.