The NAFTA Blueprint

  * * *

  It was about six when I finished the proposal. Helena was sleeping comfortable in the room, Igor Errazuriz was in the wilderness, and I was pondering ways to contact Pencho Slaveykov’s family. Nothing seemed more difficult than that. I switched on the television until I could fall asleep. A breaking news report was coming through the monitor.

  An explosion around the NAFTA rail center destroyed the headquarters of the Kansas City Rail Project, existing railroad lines, the rail center, warehouses, trailers, storage facilities, and other businesses. The source of the explosion has not yet been determined, but forensic specialists on the scene have speculated at arson. Luckily, there were no deaths or injuries. There were no people working at the time of the explosion, but the estimated monetary damages are in the high millions. It is estimated that the physical damage caused will disrupt trade and transportation for many years.

  Igor had pulled it off. History was developing before my very eyes―I was interwoven now with the NAFTA blueprint, I was part of it! Blowing up the Kansas City rail center would be a colossal setback for the monopoly. The time was now to strike with fierce vengeance. Someone would have to pay for the death of Pencho. I wanted payback.

  It was impossible to sleep with the zeitgeist circulating around the atmosphere. I needed to go straight to the office to hand over the evidence and the proposal. Sloppy Joe Franklin would just be arriving in the newsroom. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

  I knocked on the door to wake Helena, “Hey, are you awake, hey, are you up? It’s begun, Igor blew up the Kansas City rail center…it’s all over the news. You should take a look.”

  “What, what time is it?” responded a groggy voice, “Open the door…come in.”

  With excited pep in my step, I walked through the door and sat on the bed next to Helena. Her eyes flickered with a grand passion, her crinkling hair was smeared across her face, she clamored at the very thought of devoted listening.

  “I’m going to the newsroom at work. I haven’t been to the office for days. Igor has completed his first task, so it’s my turn to get the ball rolling in the media, you know. I finished the story this morning, so I have to get in there quickly if I want them to print it ASAP. I need to convince them to run with it. I’m pretty sure all this evidence we have is enough to get them to print it on the front page though. Do you want to come?”

  “Shouldn’t you wait for Igor, isn’t he supposed to be coming back soon?” she suggested.

  I felt somewhat offended, as if I couldn’t take matters into my own hands. I knew what needed to be done―write the story, and then submit it for print. I’m a damn journalist, it’s what I do. I lost all sense of respect for her at that exact moment, she became insignificant. I was glad I had not started a relationship with her. I got up in haste and started walking out the door.

  “Well, if you need to go home, you can take a cab or something…I’ll leave some money on the kitchen counter. I have to go.”

  “Wait―are you mad or something? What seems to be the problem?” she asked.

  “Nothing―everything’s fine. I just need to get back to work, that’s all. My boss has been calling me all evening and all last week. I’m surprised I haven’t got fired. Look―I can’t wait around for Igor to return. I made copies of all documents and transcripts, which I’m taking, but I think you and Igor should hold on to the originals. Every one of us should have this information for safekeeping―for leverage. I’ll call you later. Take care of yourself.”

  “Michael…wait, hold on for a second!”