Chapter 147: That Time I Got Into the Oil Business in South America (2)

TL: Skye

This was back when Venezuelan refugees were pouring into San Marcos.

As Lucio watched migrants head to Tortilla Farm day after day, a brilliant idea occurred to him.

'This... could actually work.'

He would train the Venezuelans entering San Marcos and turn them into SIA informants.

Put simply, he was going to train spies.

His reasoning went like this.

If San Marcos, with a population of only ten million, was going to develop any further, it needed manpower and resources.

But neither was easy to come by.

The country produced crude oil, but little else, and it wasn't as though San Marcos could pluck Ivans out of a backyard garden like Russia could.

There was, however, a nearby country that possessed both.

Venezuela.

Its population could hardly be called enormous in absolute terms, but from San Marcos's perspective, it had more than enough. And as for resources, it had everything: the world's largest proven oil reserves, iron ore, bauxite, gold, silver, natural gas, timber, and more.

The chances were slim, but if, one chance in a thousand or ten thousand, San Marcos ever managed to take control of Venezuela, the path would open for it to soar into the ranks of Latin America's dominant powers.

Of course, Lucio knew perfectly well that starting a war and physically occupying Venezuela was out of the question.

Even the United States couldn't pull that off.

But making Venezuela culturally and economically dependent on San Marcos was entirely possible if they mobilized the full power of the state.

Wasn't China's Belt and Road Initiative basically the same sort of thing?

'If there's even a one-percent chance, I've got to try.'

Having made up his mind, Lucio dispatched SIA agents to Tortilla Farm.

“Mr. Daniel?”

A Venezuelan man eating in the cafeteria at Tortilla Farm No. 2 looked up.

“Yes...?”

“Come with me for a moment.”

The SIA agent spoke quietly. His expression was pleasant, but his eyes were not smiling.

“W-Why?”

“This isn't anything that will put you at a disadvantage, Mr. Daniel. In fact, it's quite a good offer. So don't worry.”

Daniel followed the agent with an uneasy expression, and they eventually arrived at a container office on the outskirts of the farm, where no one else was around.

“I'll get straight to the point.”

The agent held out a document.

“We'd like to ask whether you'd be interested in working with us.”

“Working with you... What do you mean?”

“You would return to Venezuela.”

Daniel's eyes widened.

“Go back? Even if I go back, there aren't any jobs. I'd just starve.”

“What if you could receive two hundred dollars every month in exchange for returning to Venezuela? And without having to do any hard labor.”

Two hundred dollars a month.

In Venezuela, where even government employees earned less than a hundred dollars a month, two hundred was a substantial sum. And when Daniel heard that he wouldn't even have to do physical labor, his eyes wavered.

“W-What exactly would I have to do?”

The agent gave a faint chuckle.

“It's simple. Live an ordinary life, pass along whatever information we request, and occasionally carry out tasks we ask of you. Of course, we would never ask you to do anything physically dangerous or anything that would involve you in a crime.”

“R-Really?”

“Even if we did ask something like that, you could simply refuse, couldn't you? Here's the contract. Please take a look.”

Daniel silently studied the contract.

Everything the agent had just said was written there.

“...I'll do it.”

In the end, Daniel signed.

That was how it worked.

The SIA selected suitable candidates from among the Venezuelans housed at Tortilla Farm and approached them.

Most were young, unmarried men and women, and before sending them back to Venezuela, the SIA put them through two weeks of informant training.

Of course, it was the sort of thing officially called training and more accurately called brainwashing, but it worked well enough.

In that short time, they were instilled with loyalty to His Excellency and the state, while also receiving basic security and intelligence training.

Once their training was complete, Lucio sent them back to Venezuela on the grounds that they had failed to adjust to life in San Marcos.

A perfectly natural return home, as far as anyone could see.

The operation continued quietly and steadily, and by now, San Marcos had as many as five thousand informants inside Venezuela.

Twelve hundred in Caracas. Eight hundred in Maracaibo. Six hundred in Barquisimeto.

The SIA's eyes and ears had been planted throughout everyday Venezuelan society.

Their salaries alone amounted to one million dollars a month. It was a considerable budget, but Lucio had never once considered it a waste.

He knew there would come a day when they would prove enormously useful.

And then.

“Operation Amazon's Tears begins today. Contact the informants.”

At long last, the time had come for them to earn their keep.

***

Even with their country effectively bankrupt, Venezuelans loved social media.

Twit, Starstagram, NewTube, TokTok. As long as they had an internet connection, they could stay connected to the world.

Almost every member of the younger generation used social media actively, and information spread faster there than through the news.

Then one day.

Unusual posts began appearing across Venezuelan social media.

[What Chevron Did in the Ecuadorian Amazon — 18,000 People Developed Cancer]

It was a somewhat well-known story.

Texaco, Chevron's predecessor, had extracted oil from the Ecuadorian Amazon between 1964 and 1992 while dumping 68 billion liters of toxic wastewater into the Amazon River.

The rainforest had been contaminated, along with the drinking water of Indigenous villages.

Cancer rates had skyrocketed, and thousands of people had died.

An Ecuadorian court had ordered Chevron to pay 9.5 billion dollars in damages, but Chevron had not paid a single cent to this day.

The posts that came next, however, were different.

[Chevron Did the Same Thing in Venezuela — The Hidden Truth Behind the Pollution of Lake Maracaibo]

Chevron had once conducted exploration work near Lake Maracaibo. The operation had not been particularly large, and the environmental damage had been minimal. But the post told a different story.

[Chevron discharged tens of thousands of tons of wastewater into Lake Maracaibo, destroying the livelihoods of fishermen living around the lake.]

It was completely false, but placed alongside the real case from Ecuador, it looked convincing.

[Chevron Sold Refined Petroleum Back to Venezuela at Triple the Price in Exchange for Oil Development Rights]

That was fabricated too. Chevron had sold refined petroleum products to Venezuela, but the prices had not differed greatly from international market rates.

But the moment the number “three times” was attached to the claim, public outrage exploded.

ㄴ They took our oil and sold it back to us at a markup?

ㄴ How is that anything but exploitation?

ㄴ So they did the same thing to us that they did in Ecuador.

ㄴ Chevron is the enemy of South America.

[Chevron Forcibly Demolished Three Orinoco Indigenous Villages to Build Roads]

Another complete fabrication.

But the post came with a photograph of bulldozers clearing jungle. It was a picture from a completely different site in another country, but nobody bothered to check the source.

ㄴ The Indigenous people lost their homes.

ㄴ Look at what happened to the Ecuadorian Amazon. The same thing will happen to the Orinoco.

ㄴ If Chevron comes here, our rivers will die.

ㄴ Expel Chevron for destroying nature!

[Breaking] Chevron Exploration Team Suspected of Massacring Orinoco Indigenous People — Where Are the 17 Missing Villagers?

This time, it was pure fiction.

There were no missing Indigenous villagers. But the post included an anonymous interview presented as testimony from a local source.

'The Indigenous people opposed the Chevron team when they came to conduct exploration. No one has seen them since.'

Of course, this supposed local source was entirely fictional.

But no one on social media was fact-checking. Sensational headlines and outrage came first.

ㄴ A massacre?! An American company killed citizens of our country?!

ㄴ Indigenous people died in Ecuador too. Chevron is a killer corporation.

ㄴ What is the government doing?! Expel Chevron immediately!

ㄴ We have to protect the Orinoco!

The posts spread at an unnaturally fast rate.

Within thirty minutes of being uploaded, they were shared thousands of times, and comments poured in.

Naturally.

The SIA was creating the content, and five thousand informants were spreading it simultaneously.

Hundreds of pieces of anti-Chevron content flooded social media every day.

The formats varied: graphics, videos, memes, articles, and more. The quality was consistently high.

Naturally.

The posts were being made by the SIA, professionals at this sort of thing from the start.

And five thousand informants were spreading them.

One person shared something on their own account, forwarded it to a friend, and sent it to their family.

When five thousand people did that simultaneously, the first wave alone reached tens of thousands.

Once ordinary people began sharing the material voluntarily, the second and third waves grew exponentially.

Anti-Chevron sentiment spread across Venezuela like a virus.

Caught in a flood of information where truth and lies were mixed together, Venezuelans could no longer tell which was which.

After a few days, the outrage moved beyond social media and into the streets.

Posters bearing the Chevron logo were set on fire in downtown Caracas.

Hundreds gathered outside Chevron's Venezuelan offices, demanding that the killer corporation be expelled.

The protests spread to Maracaibo, Valencia, and Barquisimeto.

Then Venezuela's gangs joined in as well.

The leader of Caracas's largest gang posted on social media.

[The moment a Chevron employee sets foot on Venezuelan soil, they won't make it a hundred meters before they're dead!]

And at precisely that moment, the news broke.

[Breaking News. The government has been confirmed to have signed a development contract with the American company Chevron for Block A-7 in the Orinoco Belt.]

The opposition immediately lashed out.

[You're handing our oil field over to the company that destroyed the Ecuadorian Amazon?!]

[A contract with a company suspected of massacring Indigenous people?!]

[The Telsy administration must explain itself to the people!]

With anti-Chevron sentiment already at a fever pitch, news of the contract was like pouring gasoline onto a fire.

Tens of thousands poured into the streets of Caracas, chanting for Chevron to be expelled.

And one week later.

The Telsy administration had no choice but to issue an official announcement.

[In consideration of public sentiment and environmental protection, the development contract for Block A-7 with Chevron is hereby voided, and the government will work toward Chevron's long-term removal from Venezuela!]

Chevron headquarters had been hit by a bolt from the blue.

“Why the hell is this suddenly happening...?”

CEO Anderson slammed his fist onto his desk.

The Ecuador incident had happened decades ago.

Why the hell was it suddenly blowing up in Venezuela now? A massacre of Indigenous people? Chevron hadn't even set foot on the site yet. What massacre?

He ordered the PR team to investigate.

But they could find no answers.

Tracing the posts only led to ordinary citizens who drove taxis, waited tables in restaurants, or sold fruit in markets sharing them on social media. There was no trace anywhere of a coordinated operation.

And so Operation Amazon's Tears ended in complete success.

***

San Marcos.

Yu-jin's office in the Presidential Palace.

“Yes, Acting President. What can I do for you?”

Yu-jin answered Telsy's call over the hotline.

“I'm calling about Block A-7.”

“Ah, the block that went to Chevron?”

“It seems you haven't heard the news yet. The contract with Chevron has been voided.”

“What?”

That was unexpected.

“Voided?”

“Well... the anti-Chevron protests spiraled so far out of control that we could no longer guarantee the safety of Chevron personnel. In the end, both sides agreed to terminate the contract.”

“Then the reason you're calling me is...”

Telsy paused for a moment before carefully continuing.

“I wanted to keep my promise, even if it's late.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And... the A-12 block I promised you last time will remain yours as well.”

“That means we'd be taking both A-7 and A-12.”

“I believe that's the least I can do.”

Telsy spoke as though she were doing him a favor, but in practical terms, it was no favor at all.

With Chevron out of the picture, Black Oil offered the best terms.

San Marcos also had the nearest refinery capable of processing extra-heavy crude, and relations between the two countries were excellent.

Above all, the Venezuelan people regarded San Marcos as a kindred nation.

Of course, Yu-jin wasn't about to quibble over any of that in the middle of a diplomatic conversation.

“Thank you, Acting President.”

Telsy expressed her appreciation for the diplomatic pleasantry.

“Then I'll be in touch again soon.”

After ending the call, Yu-jin leaned back in his chair, and Isabella immediately held out a tablet as though she had been waiting for the moment.

“Would you take a look at this?”

News reports about the protests in Venezuela filled the screen.

[Anti-Chevron Protests Spread Across Venezuela — Chevron Contract Voided]

[Protests Intensify Outside Chevron's Venezuelan Offices in Caracas]

[Venezuelan Opposition Issues Statement Demanding Chevron's Exclusion]

Yu-jin scanned the news and tilted his head.

“Why did the anti-Chevron protests suddenly get this big?”

“It seems anti-American sentiment among Venezuelans runs deeper than we thought.”

Isabella answered without a trace of expression.

“I suppose...”

Yu-jin nodded thoughtfully.

'Chevron does have a pretty bad reputation.'

He immediately called CEO Harper.

“CEO Harper, I have good news. Block A-7 has been awarded to Black Oil. We're getting Block A-12 as promised as well.”

An exclamation of delight came through the phone.

“Yes. Please draw up development plans for both blocks as quickly as possible.”

“Understood! We'll get started immediately!”

A-7 and A-12. Two blocks in the Orinoco Belt.

Together, their estimated reserves exceeded 25 billion barrels of crude oil.

Even considering only San Marcos's 20 percent stake in Black Oil, the expected profits were enormous.

And on top of that, they had exclusive refining rights.

“So in the end, we gained another block thanks to Chevron.”

Isabella spoke quietly.

“We just got lucky this time.”

“I believe this was all thanks to Your Excellency's diplomatic skill.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The corners of Isabella's lips rose ever so slightly.

“Grrrrr...”

Panther, who had already grown to the size of a retriever, stretched lazily.

His golden eyes opened halfway as he looked at Yu-jin, then he padded over and rubbed his head against him as though asking to be petted.

“You adorable little thing.”

Yu-jin reached out and scratched the back of Panther's neck, and Panther began to purr.

“Rrrr, rrrr.”

It was another peaceful day in San Marcos.

*****

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