The Salvation of Jason Morris

It seemed the fortunes of Jason Morris resembled a mountain that reached into the sky. At the foot of it, were his failures and self-doubt. At the peak, would be his salvation. In his pursuit of justice for a wrong committed against him, Jason would be climbing all the way to the top!

The Bottom

In February, thousands of people celebrated in the city of Florianopolis, Brazil. Men and women flirted, drank, and danced gaily in its streets. For it was Carnival and the start of a brand-new year. Jason Morris had flown roughly 18 hours from Washington DC. The flight had several stops, but jet lag still plagued his mind. The government officials he had spoken with over the last few months were friendly and accommodating. Their English was much better than his Portuguese. The language was as strange to him, as a caveman witnessing a spaceship. Jason downloaded the latest language translation app to his cell phone, and gradually assimilated it. Within a matter of hours, Jason had moved his proficiency level from that of a novice to an apprentice. He was able to converse with some locals, then accompany them to a hotel bar.

The night air was cool as Jason drank and repaired against the counter, surrounded by tropical fauna. A man with dark hair and chiseled features; made his way down a flight of stairs. He paused to observe an elegant in-ground swimming pool to his right, then a pleasant view of the mountains to his left. The man looked straight ahead and noticed his quarry, dressed in the same clothing as himself, chino pants and a polo shirt.

“Hey, Jay!”

“Robert!” Jason rubbed the condensation from the beer bottle on his pant leg, then shook hands with his first cousin, “how’re you, man?”

“Not too bad,” Robert pulled out a tall bar stool, then sat, “just living the dream!”

“State Department has to be a hard gig with all this crap going on right now.”

“It can be, but it has its advantages,”

“Such as?”

“Location,” Robert smiled, then removed his sunglasses as he locked eyes with a young bartender. Her slender frame stood out from her large bust. He spoke Portuguese to the young woman, her chestnut eyes lit up with amusement as she raised a hand through her blonde hair. Wolves exist in every society, Jason smirked at the thought as he sipped his drink. The bartender took Robert’s order, then walked to the opposite section.

“Have a look through these.” Robert handed him his pair of sunglasses.

“Uh, all right.” Jason placed them on his face as he set his beer on the counter.

“Now without drawing too much attention to yourself, tell me if you can see a set of folders in the left lens.”

“I can,” said Jason.

“Good,” said Robert, “now tap the button on the left temple of the glasses.”

“Okay,” Jason pressed a button with his left forefinger, “holy cats!” He became awed by several electronic viewing squares which appeared before his eyes.

“The modular lens helps to obscure the visual overlay,” said Robert.

“So do I replay the recorded footage after it’s been downloaded?”

“Correct,” Robert swallowed his tequila shot, “but you can replay the video and watch it from the right lens.”

“Cool!” Jason recorded the cleavage of the buxom barkeeper as she returned to refill their drinks.

“Everything fine for you gentlemen?” She smiled at Jay, then quickly moved to his cousin.

“Absolutely senora! Bring several more shots please!” Robert winked while she smiled widely with her index finger in her mouth, then addressed another patron.

“Mm!” Robert closed his eyes and grimaced.

“Before you blow a gasket,” Jason continued to stare into the glasses, “how up-to-date is this information in these electronic folders? And is it classified?”

“Relax man! It’s all open-source and current,” Robert said annoyed, “you’ve been saying you’d do something about this guy for two years! So don’t-”

“I will. That’s why I’m here!” Jason removed the smart glasses and cast a stern look at Rob, “I didn’t fly down to the other side of the world just for a vacation.”

“Well, all right!” Robert smiled and slapped Jason’s back, then acquired a glass of water, “So why now?”

“I finally tracked down the guy that fleeced me, with the help of Brazilian law enforcement. Anyway, you arranged some accommodations for me?”

“Oh yeah,” Robert sipped some of his water, “your contact will meet you at the San Floridan hotel.”

“Contact?” Jason’s eyes widened.

“Yes, a Mr. Janke I believe.” Robert looked at him, then waved to the server.

“Bo Janke?” Jason’s eyes widened a second time.

“Yes, is there a problem?”

“No, it’s just that he’s a major asshole! Why’d you get him?” Jason motioned for another beer as the bartender approached.

“We’ll have some food menus too.” Robert smiled as the waitress returned to her register, “I didn’t, the embassy received a request from the Brazilian government to put him on the job.”

“Really?” Jason was still dumbfounded.

“Yes, after I notified them of your situation, and the fact that Janke is currently a contractor for Diplomatic Security out here. Small world huh?”

“It certainly is.” Jason joined Robert as they focused their attention on the food menus.

The Middle

After they had finished their meal, Robert dropped Jason off at the front of a three-star hotel. The top of its sign read The San Floridan.

“Well man,” Jason said from the back of the car as he unbuckled his seat belt, “it was good seeing you again!”

“Likewise, Jay!” Robert looked at him from the overhead view mirror, “Good luck!”

They shook hands, then Jason grabbed his luggage, and exited the vehicle. He donned a wind jacket as he glanced at the elegant modern design of the building. Jason then made his way through a rotating door and greeted the desk clerk, who promptly checked him into a reserved room. He carried his bags to the elevator and pressed a button for the ninth floor.

Once Jason stepped off the elevator, he walked down a long hallway. He searched the walls for any security cameras until he reached room 901. Jason paused and set his bags on the floor. While he stood near the front of the door and the corner of the wall, he felt something near his waist on the right side. There you are, he lifted his wind jacket and polo shirt, exposing a small Sig Sauer handgun. The nearest camera is by the elevator, out of reach, he thought. He removed the pistol from the belt clip holster, verified it was loaded, then moved the trigger safety lever. Jason closed his eyes and breathed for several seconds. As he held the pistol in his right hand, he retrieved his room key with his left. Jason’s adrenaline ran as he scanned his key over the black circle-shaped sensor. Once it turned green, a metallic sound unlocked the door - causing Jason to burst in.

The door swung back several feet after he entered. Although the room was dark, the light from the hallway caused him to notice a vacant bathroom to his left, and a flat-screen TV on the wall to his right. He gripped the Sig Sauer with both hands and exited the foyer of the room. Jason cleared the wall to his left side; when he came upon two empty queen beds and - CLICK!

“Easy now friend!” a voice said from behind a gun barrel pressed against Jason’s temple.

“With both hands, slowly place your firearm on the bed!” As he complied with the voice’s commands, Jason couldn’t help but notice its familiarity.

“Now, get your hands up!” Jason raised his hands as he felt the cold steel leave his flesh.

“Stay right there!” The man backed against a wall, then flipped on a light switch over one of the beds.

Jason’s eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the intensity of the lamp before he recognized his assailant. A stocky man of average height, in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and brown eyes.

“Hello, Bo!” Jason’s voice dripped with indignation.

“I never thought I’d see you again so soon,” Bo still had his revolver trained on Jason’s face, “or down here for that matter!”

“Well, it’s a shock for both of us. Can I put my hands down now?”

“Oh, sorry!” Bo cocked the safety hammer back from the pistol, then re-holstered it, “I was followed by some black car in the taxi I traveled in from the airport.”

“Do you know by whom?” inquired Jason.

“No. So, what’s this all about?” said Bo.

“You weren’t briefed at all?” Jason grabbed his Sig Sauer and sat on the bed.

“No,” Bo crossed his arms and leaned against a wall, “I was told by my supervisor that we’d be doing work for the Brazilians.”

“Correct. Do you know my cousin?”

“Robert?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, good man.”

“He told me that we’d be in contact with a local government official and a State Department agent from the area tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Bo yawned, “they going to meet us here?”

“Yep, about 9 am.” Jason stood.

“All right, I’ll help you with your things.” Bo headed for the door.

“Thanks!” They brought Jason’s belongings into the room, showered, then went to sleep.

Overnight Jason’s thoughts reflected on his prior conversation with his cousin as he tossed and turned on his mattress-

“So, what happened exactly?” said Robert.

“I foolishly purchased a mortgage on a non-existent property and lost $400,000. The main realtor I dealt with was a decent guy who tried to help me. I went to see him at his office one day and found him with his throat slashed. After that, my fiancé committed suicide.” said Jason.

“Who was your fiancé?” said Robert.

“Bo’s sister!” Jason looked at his beer bottle.

“Oh my god!” Robert set down his fork in his plate of steak and vegetables.

“After her funeral, he took me aside and said that he blamed me for her death, because of the grief I caused her. Then he said that if he saw me again, he’d kill me.” Jason gulped down the remainder of his beer.

“Señors, are you good?” The bartender interjected, then smiled at Robert as she delivered two more Tequila shots.

“We are thanks!”

Once the server was out of range, Jason resumed, “Anyway, we went our separate ways.”

“He’s serious?” said Robert.

“Yes,” Jason took some bites of Salmon, “he’s not someone who makes idle threats.”

“Well, watch your back!”

“I intend to.”

The Top

The next morning, Bo and Jason met with Inspector Francisco Lula of the Brazilian Federal Police, and Regional Security Officer (RSO) Matthew Boyd for the Diplomatic Security Service. They chatted and had breakfast in a private banquet room at the hotel.

“Gentlemen, we believe this criminal’s identity is actually Maximilian Heflin.” said a tall, muscular man in his mid-40s, Mr. Boyd spoke with one hand wrapped around a cup of coffee. Bo estimated he was over six feet in height. Matthew’s other hand extended outward through his suit coat jacket for elaborative effect.

“Meaning what exactly?” Jason inquired as he bit into a piece of buttered toast.

“This is one very dangerous fellow, involved in gun running, fraud, embezzlement, narc-trafficking, and racketeering,” Mr. Lula sipped his coffee, “I’ve been after him and his partner for a long time. His extradition back to America has been held up by individuals in my government.”

“Why’s that, sir?” Said, Jason.

“We do not have definite proof, but we think he’s bribing certain politicians or bureaucrats. If you can establish this assumption with any proof, it would be an enormous step in the right direction.” Francisco dug into some scrambled eggs as he poured some additional coffee. He possessed a lean swimmer’s build and knew how to handle himself. Lula too wore a professional business suit like Mr. Boyd.

“You described a litany of crimes committed by this guy, but no arrests?” said Jason.

“We’ve arrested some of his couriers and lower-level gang members. But no leads that could be verified, due to the low profile kept by this guy.” Said Mr. Boyd.

“Max’s partner Marcos De Salazar operates in an area of approximately 900 square miles all throughout my country. His cartel is known as the Montanha de Fogo in English. They have fought drug cartels from Peru and Colombia for control of territory in the Amazon, next to the Tri-border area. There’s not really any good images, video, or anything of him anywhere in the media.” Said Mr. Lula.

“To remain reclusive in the age of 24/7 news media and the internet is quite a fete!” Bo broke into the conversation as he sipped his coffee.

“True senor, if we could have only any picture or indication of his exact whereabouts. I’d call in the military to capture him!” Said, Francisco.

Bo pushed out his chair and headed for the nearby entrance. He walked down the outside hallway and stopped when he saw a local maintenance man.

“Excuse me, sir, do you know where the bathrooms are?”

“Oh yes, down the hall to your right!”

“Thanks!”

After he relieved himself at a urinal, he walked to a sink and regarded his image in the mirror. He stared down to wash his hands, then as he looked up, he noticed a tall man with a bronze complexion holding a pistol with a silencer over the barrel approaching him.

“Keep quiet gringo and you won’t be harmed!”

“Sure,” Bo responded calmly, pretended to raise his hands, then quickly slammed a fist back into the face of the assailant, who dropped the gun out of his hands. Bo swiftly grabbed and then slammed his head into the sink countertop. Blood covered the counter and the man’s face as he fell to the floor. Bo acquired the handgun, checked the magazine, and verified it was full. Bo opened the door quietly and noticed the body of the janitor on the floor in a red pool. Bo hugged the wall as he quietly snuck back to the private room.

“It’s nice to see you, gentlemen!” Bo glanced from around a corner and saw a sharply dressed man in a suit, with dark hair, lined by four gunmen, addressing the table of his companions.

“So, who gave us away?” asked Mr. Boyd.

“Mr. Salazar owns this hotel. The desk clerk keeps him informed on all the guests from out of town.”

“That makes sense,” said Jason.

“So, are you Salazar?” asked Mr. Boyd.

“No, I’m merely his business partner.”

“Max Heflin!” Said, Jason.

“Do you know me…boyo?”

“Indeed,” said Jason, his face becoming beet red. What the hell? Bo thought as he hurried down the hallway to the main dining section.

“You’re the very reason I’m here!” Jason started to laugh.

“Oh, why’s that?” Max inquired as he started to laugh.

“You should remember the face of the guy you screwed out of a $400,000 mortgage!”

“What?” Max recalled the incessant legal harassment that followed him from Cincinnati, Miami, and now Brazil. “Jason Morris!” He quickly drew a handgun from a shoulder holster.

“Bingo!” Jason got off two shots from his Sig Sauer before Max could even aim his pistol.

“Wait!” Bo shouted from a distance, “Damn it!”

The shots tore into Max’s flesh like a knife through butter. Matthew and Francisco began shooting at the four other guards. One of the henchmen was about to shoot Jason when – Bo fired silently from the distance, hitting him in the chest. The corpse fell near Max’s, onto the table face first, with arms outstretched. Jason waved to Bo, who nodded as the remaining three hitmen took cover behind random tables and chairs as they engaged in gunfire with the others.

Matt turned the main table over on its side, to shoot from behind. Max’s body fell to the ground from the commotion. Bullets bounced off a tiled wall, as the shooting commenced.

“I’ll try to flank them on the left side. Cover me!” Francisco crouched down, with dishes and glass cracking all around him.

“Okay!” Matt peered just over the top of the table. He shot several rounds against a guard who stood against a pillar, who then ducked to miss the barrage.

“Go!” Said Matt as Francisco sprinted out from behind the table. He ran to another set table and took cover.

A bullet ricocheted off a glass tabletop near Mr. Boyd’s head. He saw the hitman’s location, and shot point blank at the man’s forehead, killing him instantly. Bo attacked a henchman about to shoot Francisco from behind a pillar. He shot the man’s shoulder, which pushed him out from behind a table. Francisco fired into his chest, then shoved the body aside.

The last shooter sprayed a barrage of bullets at Mr. Boyd and Jason as they lay on the floor to take cover. Jason saw an opening to shoot the man’s feet and did so. Bullets ripped through the man’s shoes. He screamed in pain as Matt finished him off with a shot to his torso.

“Is everyone okay?” Said Mr. Boyd as they huddled in a group.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Jason.

“All good!” Said, Francisco.

“I’m all in one piece,” Bo smirked.

“So Bo, what did you shout?”

“The man you killed was someone I’ve seen before!”

“Really where?” Jason looked askance.

“He was one of those things from the incident a few years back,”

“How?”

“I’ll explain later. Anyway, well done!” Bo smiled as they shook hands.

“Thanks!” Jason felt vindication as he finally reached the top of the mountain, he’d been climbing for the last two years. While the group stopped in front of the main table, Jason’s feeling of elation turned to horror, once he saw that Max Heflin’s corpse was gone!