Then there were the boxing matches which Rojas arranged. El Presidente had him make sure none of his opponents could beat him. He thought it made him look virile to the women. Rojas had lost count the number of women he had taken to his personal rooms in the Presidential palace. Yet despite it all, Parente was still held in high esteem by the masses in Venezuela. Not with the wealthy, who gave a half hearted show of support, but with the working class and the indigenous people in the countryside. By adopting a “macho” appearance, he played into what many uneducated felt was the image of what a president should be.
More recently things had started to become even stranger. Rojas arranged for the army to build a special center high in the mountains so that he could commune with the gods. Taking a page from some ancient rituals, El Presidente evoked the ancient deities and especially the name of Wei, the ancient sun god. He used both to instill the homage and support of the mountain people. To do so, Rojas had procured elaborate feathered headgear and special equipment so that El Presidente could look the part. Parente would hold elaborate ancient ceremonies to venerate the ancient gods. The funny thing was that most of the gods he played to weren’t even native to Venezuela, but reflected some ancient folk lore of the hill people, so he made them fit. Parente made the rituals so extremely thorough and realistic that the people were mystified.
Although popular with the people, Parente was inept in foreign relations. Rojas watched as Parente undermined the diplomatic ties with just about every democratic nation in South America and north to Canada. His relations with the United States were particularly in tatters. Parente openly criticized President O’Bannon for the last war, siding with the North Koreans. It was well known that he was building up the drug trade in Venezuela while nationalizing any foreign held businesses. He had even seized American held companies. Yet the American ambassador, Craig Jonas, was always seen with him, smiling and getting along as if nothing bad had ever happened. Three of the embassy staff had been ordered out of the country, yet Parente refused to have Jonas leave. Whenever they were together it was most cordial.
Over the past three days El Presidente had been in conference with one military group which Rojas had not been allowed to participate — his personal guard. They had met four times each day and were even now behind closed doors. Something was happening and Rojas hadn’t a clue what it was. He was about to go over a report he would brief tomorrow when a messenger came running through the door. He rushed through the outer office and was getting ready to brush past his desk when Rojas stopped him.
“Don’t you know where you are? This is the office of El Presidente, not some gymnasium,” he growled.
The young man stopped in his tracks. He was dressed in a black army uniform with insignia which made him a corporal in the personal guard. He braced in front of the Colonel’s desk. “I have an important message for El Presidente,” he nearly shouted. There was a folded piece of paper in his hand.
“Give it to me,” Rojas said sternly.
“I was ordered to take it to El Presidente.”
“You are in his office and I am his military aide. When you give it to me, you are giving it to him,” Rojas said a little more softly, yet with a firm tone which indicated he was not used to being disobeyed.
The young man hesitated for a second, then straightened and handed the paper to the Colonel. He saluted and then walked quickly back out the way he came.
Curious, Rojas unfolded the note. It read, Truck with prisoners back in country. Proceeding to compound. There was no signature or origin listed.
What is going on, Rojas wondered. Quickly refolding the paper, making sure it didn’t betray his reading it, Rojas walked back to the large double doors which opened to El Presidente’s office. Straightening his shirt, he knocked and waited for a reply.
“Enter,” he heard from behind the doors. Rojas quickly twisted the knob and opened the door.
The room was huge. It measured thirty feet wide and fifty feet long. The floors were polished marble which gleamed under the light of the silver chandeliers hanging above them. The walls were white marble with gold accents and trim. The furniture was also trimmed in gold and included lounges with deep blue cloth and gold pillows. El Presidente’s desk was two steps above the main floor. It appeared to be wrought from iron with gold gilt crowned with a glass top and more gold accents. Behind it was a marble seat with matching blue and gold trim. Most visitors thought they had stepped back into the age of Rome. Presidente Parente was seated in his seat wearing his crisp uniform. Around the desk were four officers from his elite guard dressed in black uniforms, one of whom was a colonel like himself. “Ah, Colonel Rojas. You have something for me?” the President asked.
As the president had instructed, Rojas marched stiffly to the bottom of the two steps and gave a stiff salute. “A message I was told was quite urgent, Señor Presidente.”
Parente scowled. “Do you know what the message is?” he said with a hiss.
Thinking quickly, Rojas shook his head. “No Señor Presidente. However the young messenger was not in the proper appearance to come into your presence. He told me it was for you only, and I am delivering it as you have instructed,” he said, hoping he was not giving away the fear he felt.
Parente’s face softened. His lips spread wider and a hint of a smile crossed his face. “Very good, Colonel. This is a personal matter and I applaud your attention to duty. Now if you will leave us. I will call you in shortly,” he said gently.
Rojas stood firmly and saluted again. He then did a crisp about face and left the room as he entered, marching stiffly. He silently closed the big double doors as he left. Once in his outer office, Rojas let out a breath of air. He was lucky that El Presidente had not questioned his lie about not seeing the message and he would have to make sure to never give any hint that he had seen it in the first place. Too many men had disappeared when they had gotten too close to Parente’s personal matters.
Sitting at his desk, Rojas began to wonder what the message had meant. After over a year working for him, Rojas knew it was probably nothing good. Somehow it was tied into this personal guard, but prisoners? And what compound? He hoped he hadn’t stepped into something which would get him killed. Rojas sat alone at his desk pondering what it might be until the buzzer under the desk sounded, summoning him back into El Presidente’s office.
Standing, Rojas straightened his uniform once again and made his way back to the double doors. He knocked and when he heard the reply, opened the doors and stepped in. Surprisingly, Parente was coming towards the door as he entered. Rojas stopped and saluted sharply.
Parente walked up smiling. He raised his arms to welcome the Colonel in. “Come up here, my Colonel. I am feeling particularly well tonight and desire some company. Let us sit here,” he said joyfully as he escorted Rojas to a corner pillowed sofa and chair. Sitting in the chair he gestured for Rojas to sit on the sofa.
Rojas had warning bells going off in his mind. It wasn’t normal for Parente to act this way. As indicated, he sat at the edge of the sofa and waited for El Presidente to start the conversation.
“Colonel, how long have you served me here?” he asked.
Rojas thought a moment. “Just a bit more than fifteen months, Señor Presidente,” he said softly.
“Not so long, Colonel. And you have served me quite well during that time,” Parente said.
“Thank you, Señor Presidente.”
Parente waved his hand. “No, I notice these things. You do your job without shirking and without questions. That is something a leader needs in these times,” Parente said watching him. “You are also very loyal. Now tonight, something very important happened and you were the one who brought me the information I needed,” he said. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about that?”