An end of the world black comedy
by William M Johnson

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3. Meanwhile, panic sets in as news of the slaying is received at the headquarters of the Dodo Foundation, with Director-General Gerald van Boek desperately searching for ways to control the damage…

Deep in thought, Van Boek paced the conference room.

"I’ve got it!" he exclaimed triumphantly, snapping his fingers. "Put out a press statement that our team was attacked by marauding wild beasts."

"Parrots?" Margaret queried sardonically. "They were studying parrots. They’ve never been known to maraud."

Responding to van Boek’s terse summons via intercom, his personal secretary scurried in with a stenopad and pen, and a bulging manila folder under her arm marked ‘Aguarico Rain Forest Parrots Project’.

She seated herself next to van Boek, beaming enthusiastically. He managed a wan smile, so broken that it resembled a grimace. But, really, it was all so terribly thrilling she could barely contain herself! Fidgeting on her chair she announced in a gushing torrent: "Well, I’ve found several reports filed by Dr. Walters over the last eight months. Each one complaining of systematic harassment by the security forces and calling for urgent assistance! In the last of his cables, he says he fears for his life. Gosh, it’s very poignant. Listen to this: ‘As the sun rises over the dense forest canopy above and the wind sends stray shafts of golden light to play around us, my colleagues and I are forced to wonder in silence about our uncertain future. The ancient timelessness in which we are immersed only serves to emphasise the frailness and temporality of the human form. When the security forces first came upon our encampment we mistook them for renegades or insurgents because their blue uniforms bore no government insignia. Armed to the teeth, they raided our camp and stole whatever valuables they could carry. On the second visit they destroyed our radio, making communication with the outside world virtually impossible. They demanded information on the location of the rebels and when we denied any knowledge of such matters, brandished their weapons at us and threatened to kill us on the spot. Yesterday they attacked a nearby Indian village. The village does not exist any more. We will now move north under cover of darkness in the hope that we may reach the coast and find refuge there. I am sending this letter in the hands of my trusted native interpreter, who, at great personal risk, has volunteered to double back and take the quickest route to Democracia. Please, we beg of you, take action now by contacting officials at the highest level. Our lives may well depend upon it."

"My God, if only I’d known!" lamented van Boek, burying his head in his hands.

Licking the tips of her fingers, his secretary rifled through the bloated file. "You did write back to Dr. Walters on several occasions…"

"I did?" he asked, suddenly brightening.

"In this letter you reply: ‘Thank you for your communication of 12 January expressing fear for your life blah blah… I apologise for my delay in replying but I have only recently returned from extended duty travel abroad blah blah… We have noted your comments and filed them for future reference blah blah… We find your suspicion and criticism of the San Pimente authorities unfounded since our relations with them have always been conducted in a spirit of utmost cordiality and co-operation. We believe that any harassment your team may be suffering from the security forces must be minor in nature and only due to the political sensitivity of the region. You are requested to continue your work in the area, and in the meantime I will submit your appeal for urgent assistance for review by our in-house experts and I will contact you as soon as I have received their comments. In conclusion, I must warn against any precipitate action which may damage DDF’s constructive relations with the San Pimente government, particularly in this critical run-up period to the Earth Summit… Yours blah blah’."

"My God!" van Boek whined, covering his face with his hands. "The most innocent of motives! It sounds so terribly incriminating! You must shred the file immediately!"

"Do you think that’s wise?" cautioned Margaret. "We may require selected extracts of it to defend DDF’s own actions in the future."

"Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right of course," he whispered in a dazed stammer. "I suggest we store it with our other classified information in the nuclear bunker in the basement."

"It’s getting rather full, isn’t it?" Margaret interjected. "Let’s hope there isn’t a war."

Deep in thought, he began pacing the room again. "Really, this Walters fellow seems unreasonably radical in his views. I had always considered him most stable and dependable… Of course, the image of our organisation is our first priority, our most precious commodity. We must protect it at all costs. We cannot accept any blame or liability for what has happened." He paused for a moment and his eyes suddenly brightened. "Wait a minute! When was the last letter or cable from Dr. Walters received? Perhaps they were already dead, therefore making it impossible and pointless for us to intervene."

"I’m sorry Sir," his secretary bubbled, "but they were murdered – let’s see, according to our incoming mail date stamp – five days after the receipt of Dr. Walters’ final cable."

"Damn!"

"Well, however much you wish to grieve over the tragedy," Margaret declared piercingly, "I would recommend a formal communication to the authorities."

"Quite right. Take down this letter," he ordered, "addressed to the President of San Pimente, whoever it is. ‘Your Excellency, It is with deep regret that I write to you regarding the recent disappearance of three of the Dodo Foundation’s freelance, independent consultants. Prior to this unfortunate occurrence, they were engaged in conservation feasibility studies in the Aguarico Sustainable Exploitation Rainforest Preserve. We apologise wholeheartedly for any actions by our consultants which may have caused embarrassment to the authorities. Naturally, we at DDF would not wish any attention to be drawn to the unfounded allegations that our consultants may have been terminally inconvenienced by the security forces operating in the Aguarico region. Indeed, we very much hope that we shall be able to proceed with our fruitful collaboration as though nothing had happened…’ No, strike that. ‘And we very much hope that our relations will not be impaired by this distressing mishap’."

"You can’t be serious!" Margaret exclaimed in dismay. "What about the relatives?" Traumatised by the morning’s developments, she mentally reviewed her savings in the hope of dramatically offering her resignation there and then. But whichever way she stretched and twisted the figures it was obvious that she couldn’t afford the luxury of rebelling ethics. The new apartment and consigning the kids to an expensive international school had seen to that.

"Well, I don’t know!" van Boek snapped. "Get the lawyers working on it. That’s why we pay them, isn’t it?"

"You mean, buy the relatives off? I think that may be very expensive."

"Why? Conservation isn’t a picnic. They should expect things like this to happen. They were insured, weren’t they?"

Shuffling noisily through her file, van Boek’s personal secretary suddenly exclaimed: "I see from our records that Walters had no living relatives or next of kin. His wife died last year in a car accident."

"Thank God!" van Boek sighed in relief. "That only leaves his assistant, who was a low-level employee, not much more than a volunteer, in fact. Insurance can take care of that. No need to bother about the local guide."

"Do you think the policy also covers murder by death squad? I could quite imagine that falls under Acts of God."

"Please, Margaret, don’t talk like that. We have no positive proof that the government was responsible."

"Apart from the unfortunate witness. The boy."

"Yes, that is inconvenient," van Boek replied, biting his lips, his brow deeply furrowed by anxious scheming.

"Mind you, I imagine that the witness may not last long if he’s found by the authorities."

"Yes," he mused, "there is that hope."

"What I meant was that we should endeavour to find and shelter him."

"Whatever for?"

"He’s only a child!"

"So? We do have an overpopulation problem, you know."

Margaret could feel her migraine gnawing into her mind with a vengeance. "The witness may protect our interests also," she declared, twisting her mind to simulate van Boek’s. "An insurance for us – at least until the Summit’s over."

"How clever of you, Margaret," van Boek marvelled. "Get onto it right away. Spare no expense. Get the best lawyers and private detectives onto it. Immediately!"

"In view of the gravity of the situation, perhaps you should advance your travel plans and fly out to San Pimente tomorrow?"

"But my wife and I have a dinner engagement with Countess Hagola Rasputinoff!"

The faces around the conference table bore down on him in critical silence.

"All right then!" he relented with a sigh of ill-grace. "Book me a flight. Margaret will accompany me. I’ll need her skills." Margaret returned the compliment with a tight, sickly smile, the best she could muster under the circumstances.

Ten minutes later his irritatingly ebullient secretary returned to announce that all major airlines were already overbooked.

"The only tickets available at this time are on Bandana Socialist Airlines."

"In first-class, I hope!"

"Bandana has no first-class or business-class sections."

"What? No! In steerage!" van Boek sobbed, his head in his hands. "But I thought we were going to adhere to World Health Organisation recommendations. You know full well that their in-house study recommends all senior staff members to fly first or business class! Their animal tests have proved conclusively that economy is deleterious to health! You can be damn sure that they’ll all be flying over in first. The humiliation of it all!" He paused, grasping at straws. "Perhaps we should charter a jet. This is an emergency, after all. And it’s in keeping with our global image."

The Budget Director glanced at him severely, a faint sneer curling the corners of his thin bloodless lips. "I’m afraid that the expense would be astronomical and in any event would require a board decision, which would take several days."

"It would probably cost more than actually protecting the parrot sanctuary," Margaret pointed out.

"But… in steerage!" van Boek bleated. "Whatever will they think of me at the airport and in San Pimente? I shall have to wear a disguise."

The swallows meanwhile, after much argument, were now convinced they’d come to the wrong address. But they remained mystified. Their advanced navigational senses all pointed clearly to the fact that it was this human nest which housed the world’s leading lights in conservation. It was very confusing.

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