Chapter 42: That Time I Drilled for Oil in South America.

TL: Skye

Santa Elena Beach, Belize. An isolated villa. In a spacious room, a middle-aged white man swirled his wine glass.

Josh Harrington. Chevron's overseas operations director, and the central mastermind behind the San Marcos bloodbath.

"Haah... the air really is different here."

Josh gazed out at the Caribbean nightscape stretching beyond the window and drew a deep breath.

Just hours ago he'd been running from the FBI in a desperate game of cat and mouse, but now he was savoring every ounce of leisure.

'Stupid FBI idiots.'

He had graduated top of his class from Yale and gone through Harvard's MBA program, an elite among elites in the truest sense of the word.

From a young age he'd worked his way up through energy companies, building experience before moving to Chevron, where he clawed his way to the top by securing oil development rights across Africa and the Middle East through any means necessary.

Bribery was standard practice in that process, and when the situation called for it, he didn't hesitate to fund rebel groups and topple governments.

For a man like him, the San Marcos incident was nothing special.

'A few beggars died. So what?'

To Josh, a dyed-in-the-wool plutocrat, the citizens of developing nations were nothing more than tools and expendables for extracting resources.

He'd simply gotten unlucky this time, that was all.

"Tch, if only that damn yellow monkey had died, I wouldn't have had to run like this..."

Josh drained his wine in a single gulp.

He did feel a pang of regret over losing the title of Chevron director, a position he'd spent his entire life building toward.

But it was fine.

He'd prepared for the worst, laundering a cool hundred million dollars and converting it all into crypto.

The foundation he'd built was gone, sure, but with that kind of money he could live like a king in Brazil.

Maybe this was a blessing in disguise, actually.

After all, he was finally free of his old wife who did nothing but nag him day in and day out.

If he'd had children it might have been different, but fortunately, or unfortunately, he was azoospermic and had none.

'Perfect conditions for a fresh start.'

Once he got to Brazil, the plan was to buy a beachfront mansion, invite young, beautiful women over, and throw parties every single day.

All that headache-inducing oil development business could go to hell.

"Time to start living the easy life."

Josh smiled with satisfaction and laid himself down on the bed.

The plush mattress enveloped him.

Just as he was basking in that comfort and about to close his eyes...

CRASH―!

A sharp, splintering sound, and the balcony glass shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Wh-what the hell!"

Josh shot upright in a panic.

From the darkness beyond the window, something shaped like a canister came hurtling in.

HISSSSSS―!

A moment later, white smoke began pouring violently from it.

"Cough!Cough!"

Before he could even process what was happening, heavy thuds echoed from the floor below.

RAT-TAT-TAT―! BANG! BANG!

Gunfire.

Primal terror crawled up his spine.

'I-I have to run!'

Josh dragged his staggering body toward the veranda. Jumping from here might break his legs, but that was a hundred times better than being caught.

But.

"Huh...?"

For some reason, his feet wouldn't leave the ground. His legs felt impossibly heavy, as if someone had glued them to the floor.

His vision blurred, and the ceiling began to spin.

"Son of... a..."

***

SHHHHHHH―!

"Guh, guh-haaah!"

Ice-cold water hit his face, and Josh gasped violently as his eyes snapped open.

"Cough, cough!"

As his vision cleared, the first things that greeted him were not the luxurious villa bedroom or the plush mattress, but gray concrete walls and a single worn-out lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

He was bound tight with rope to a metal chair inside a dank, cramped room reeking of mildew.

"You're awake?"

A sharp voice came from the darkness. Josh turned his head to find a man in a black suit sitting in a chair, looking down at him.

"Wh-who the hell are you people!"

"Nice to meet you. I'm Lucio, Director of the San Marcos Intelligence Agency."

"...What?"

San Marcos? Josh's face went white. He'd been in Belize for certain, and yet he'd opened his eyes to find himself in San Marcos.

"Why... why are you..."

"Don't play dumb."

Lucio smirked and rose from his seat.

"You orchestrated a terrorist attack that killed a country's president and every single Cabinet member, and you thought you'd walk away clean?"

With every step Lucio took toward him, Josh's heart shrank a little smaller.

"N-no, it wasn't me! I don't know anything about it! The CEO, Yon, he ordered me to... yeah! The higher-ups told me to do it, I just had no choice but to follow!"

Josh screamed as if he were the victim in all this.

"I'm just a salaried executive! What power do I have? The real bad guys are at headquarters..."

"You can save the effort."

Lucio cut him off coldly.

"We already know you drew up the plans, got the CEO's approval, and then personally authorized the funding."

"H-how do you..."

That was when it happened.

"AAAAAAAGH―!"

A bloodcurdling scream tore through from the adjacent room.

"Eek!"

Josh's shoulders clenched.

"Familiar voice, isn't it? The CEO who gave you that approval is right next door."

Watching Josh tremble and quake with terror, Lucio's expression turned oddly contemplative.

"Actually, I personally think the terrorist attack you pulled off was a good thing."

"...?"

"Think about it. Thanks to you, the incompetent former president died, and His Excellency took power. San Marcos has been developing at a breakneck pace ever since. If you look at it that way, you're practically a founding father."

Lucio meant every word. If not for these pieces of garbage, Yu-jin would still be nothing more than a minister.

"Honestly, I'd love to give you an award."

"Th-then..."

A glimmer of hope crept into Josh's eyes, but Lucio's expression froze over in an instant.

"But what can I do? His Excellency wants justice."

"...!"

"A hunting dog can't go against his master's wishes, can he?"

Lucio gestured, and operatives who had been standing by in the shadows stepped forward, each carrying an assortment of tools.

Batons, pliers, a stun gun...

"I need to present them to His Excellency first thing tomorrow morning. Make them as docile as possible."

Lucio gave the order without a trace of emotion.

"Yes, sir!"

"W-wait! Wait a second!"

Josh screamed, but Lucio walked out with indifferent steps.

Creeeak― SLAM.

***

"What? You caught the terror... suspects?"

I set down my hot coffee mid-sip. Just two days ago, the FBI had been spouting nothing but excuses about how they'd lost the trail or couldn't make an arrest, and now Lucio shows up first thing in the morning saying he'd caught the terrorists.

"How did this happen?"

To my question, Lucio answered with a deadpan expression.

"We got lucky. We received intelligence that the suspects were hiding in a villa in Belize and dispatched SIA operatives immediately to secure them."

"Belize?"

I was baffled, but thinking it over, it actually made sense.

Belize wasn't exactly next door, but it was only an hour away by plane.

Still, the question remained. How did the SIA know their whereabouts when even the FBI didn't?

"Who tipped you off about their location?"

"We used the Douglas & Hoffman lawyer we arrested previously. We approached the terrorists offering an escape route. Once the FBI's net started closing in, they took the bait without hesitation."

"Wait."

So in other words, the SIA helped them escape?

'Or not? Would they have gotten away on their own anyway?'

Hmm...

Hard to say.

'Well, it was the right call regardless.'

The terrorists had been caught; that much was certain.

"You've done great work, Lucio."

"It was a joint operation planned with Director Isabella."

"R-right. Director Isabella, good work to you as well."

After giving my encouragement to the two of them, who looked like puppies waiting to be praised, I asked.

"So where are the terrorists now?"

"They're standing by outside. Would you like to see them?"

"Let's do that."

Lucio gave an order to the operatives outside, and in came a line of men in handcuffs.

I recognized one of them. Was it Josh Harrington? Harington?

Chevron's overseas operations director, someone I'd butted heads with several times back when I was Minister of Natural Resources and Tourism.

"This is His Excellency of San Marcos. You will all offer your words of repentance."

At the sound of Lucio's voice, the men began trembling all over and mumbling.

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorr..."

"IdeservetodieIdeservetodieIdeservetodieIdeservetodie..."

"I'llneverdoitagainI'llneverdoitagain'llneverdoitagain..."

The moment they saw me, they slammed their faces into the floor and began groveling desperately.

"Look, Your Excellency. It seems they're repenting from the bottom of their hearts."

"......"

I'd called them in half-wanting to land a punch... but there was nowhere left to hit.

Lucio spoke up, eyes brimming with anticipation.

"In my opinion, we should strap bombs to them in the public square and blow them to pieces. We happen to have a surplus of explosives, so it'd be a good way to clear out the inventory too."

"...No matter what crimes they've committed, they're still human beings with rights. We must follow proper legal procedure."

At my firm words, Lucio and Isabella seemed to gain some measure of enlightenment and nodded with reluctant expressions.

"Director, is the detention facility we're contracted to operate for the United States ready?"

"Yes. We've prepared a special holding wing."

"And security?"

"I can guarantee no one's getting out, even in death."

"Good. For now, lock them up there and notify the Americans."

"Your Excellency, the current situation is ideal for putting the U.S. in our debt. If we don't notify them, they'll assume they've failed to fulfill their promise, and we can extract significant concessions."

"No. We shouldn't do that."

I shook my head.

"The Chevron affair is a sore spot for the U.S. as well. If we try to hold this over them, it could easily backfire. More importantly..."

"......"

"Do you really think President Drump would consider it a debt?"

"Ah... you're right."

Isabella grasped it immediately and gave a quick nod.

"Understood. I'll begin coordinating with Director Ellen right away."

"Then I'll leave it to you."

*

The negotiations wrapped up smoothly, just as I'd expected. No, better than expected.

Director Ellen thanked us multiple times, and even added a discreet request of her own.

[If you could just... keep them locked away forever, as though they'd simply vanished. So that their very existence is forgotten.]

It seemed the U.S. government didn't want these men getting out and running their mouths either.

Thanks to that, I'd gained the authority to imprison them legally and permanently.

'With this, Ian's been avenged.'

The terrorists would now spend the rest of their lives in a deep, dark mine shaft in San Marcos, never seeing sunlight again as they paid for their crimes.

See? Act with integrity, and everything falls into place.

It had always been my belief that deception only erodes trust in the end.

And perhaps because of that belief, God decided to hand me a surprise gift.

"Your Excellency... our interrogation of the terrorists has uncovered a new piece of information."

"What is it?"

"The Northern Oilfield is apparently over three times larger than originally estimated."

"...What?"

*****

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