John Martin was satisfied with the news from Covax. The fantastic results submitted from his research lab had been verified and it was clear that his Nexus vaccine would be mass-produced around the world. He still owned the patent and the Nexus itself but the amount of vaccines that would be produced in the future was practically endless. He would now become so rich that even Elon Musk would look poor in comparison. There were of course endless details that had to be ironed out but the structure in large, was now in place. He had also received the first Nexus vaccine himself on camera. He had felt nothing and all his body vitals, three months later, were normal. Actually he was feeling better. There were still a lot of research that had to be done around the world on the Nexus material and the possibilities seemed wonderful. It could cure cancer, perhaps even stop the torment of man aging. Now he had to deal with the Bilderbergs problem. His son Leif was already in a meeting with the big four of the foundation and it was going well. There was a lot of writing in media about Martin, the Nexus, his family and there were of course skeptics. But John Martin was by no means derailed by the pressure from the outside world. He was in Helsinki, in the former lab now and he was puzzled. The Black Brigades had all died from the mutant strains they had been infected with but somehow the Brazilian agent Mingo had survived. He was not showing any sign of infection whatsoever. Mingo had been severely tested for 6 months but his body was clean. He was however not happy and had demanded to be released. After consulting with his scientists, John Martin faced a serious decision, he would have to let the man go. The two men had come to an agreement. Mingo was supposed to work for John Martin, and after consulting the CIA, the deal had been made. He had also made Mingo a very rich man. The most curious thing of the matter was that Mingo had been deemed immune to all Covid-19 strains tested on him so far. The two men were now facing each other, sitting in the comfortable office chairs. Mingo was watching John Martin and trying to focus on his words, but there was something wrong with his head. It did not hurt but he felt strange. He refocused on what Martin was saying: You are a man of many talents Mingo and I am glad that we managed to agree. You are now very wealthy my friend. Five hundred million Euros have now been transferred to your account. As soon as Martin had spoke the sentence, Mingo's new smartphone plinged with a message. Yes! Go ahead and check it - Martin nodded. Mingo opened his bank account. It was all there. He put the Apple phone away in his pocket. He was wearing a tailor made Loro Piana suit with matching gold cufflinks. His shoes were brown leather, a Testoni. The black shirt was crisp and the Audemars Piguet watch was back on his wrist. You look good my friend. I am sorry for the discomfort we have caused you, but business is sometime truly war and in this case you came out as the supreme winner. It's all business you see! John Martin offered him a Cohiba cigar and smiled. Mingo chose one from the small silver box that Martin was holding, he used the posh cigar cutter made a very clean cut. Smoking cigar was an art that Mingo knew all too well. Martin lit his cigar and rose from his chair. He returned swiftly with a bottle of red wine and filled the two handsome glasses with the Dukesfield Pino Noir from 2010 and gave one to Mingo. Mingo was slowly puffing on the cigar and relishing the deep taste of the cuban hand rolled tobacco. Mingo finally spoke while letting a cloud of smoke escape his open mouth. His brown eyes were hazy and the black hair was neatly trimmed at shoulder length. I agree Mr Martin, business is business. I appreciate the delicate touch in which you have handled everything since I entered this lab. I also know that you are a shrewd man. What is it you want me to do? John Martin looked at Mingo with interest. He liked the man. The Brazilian was resilient. He had watched the Brigades for three weeks in the lab, dying slowly of the hyper aggressive Covid strains that they had inhaled. Some of them succumbed within the first week. Michael Mcgrady had lasted for three weeks before suffocating from the lack of oxygen in his body. Mingo had watched it all and felt good. Real good. He had even felt stronger. The scientists had watched the incarcerated people very closely and had ran endless tests. Mingo had been put into isolation. It was about this time he had felt changes in his mind. He had started to loose time. He never told anyone about this during his testing. It felt like something was growing inside him. Something sinister that he could not always control. It had taken all his strength to subdue the entity that was forming inside him. And suddenly it was gone. He felt like himself again. Almost like himself. He had horrible dreams. Terrible nightmares that ravaged his very soul. Then they too had passed. And then John Martin had finally showed up with his offer, which was to buy his silence about the occurrences of late and to become an extended part of the Martin family. He could of course do as he pleased but would from time to time be called upon to carry out certain tasks, using his special talents, as Martin so smoothly had put it. Along with the offer came great wealth and power. It was a no brainer. Mingo had agreed to the deal. I want you to remove someone. The man that commanded the Black Brigades. Mingo nodded. Where can I find him? His yacht is currently somewhere in the atlantic ocean close to Brazil. I will feed you with more accurate information when I receive it. I want it to be done with a certain.. finesse. It will not be easy. The security is very tight so you have to come up with a plan. Can I count on you to do this? Mingo tasted the wine. Deep and rich like a female garden, he let his tounge play with the wine a few more seconds before he swallowed it with pleasure. Yes you can, he answered, looking at John Martin straight in the eye. Martin smiled his greedy smile. Good, it's decided then. My daughter Lela will be in touch with you in a day or two.
Are you ready to leave this place? Mingo rose swiftly from the chair. Yes I am. Where will you go now? Mingo smiled for the first time during the conversation. To get Pussy! Good man, the limo outside will take you anywhere. Keep in touch. Mingo nodded and left.
In the darkness a microscopical spark started to form from black cells. These cells were again the creation of the mutation Covid strains and the modification that the scientists had added before releasing the virus into the airflow that Mingo and the Black Brigade members had inhaled in plentiful. The binding process of the cells accelerated into a small black mass that kept on growing inside the host. The entity that was rapidly forming enjoyed sucking small amounts of energy from it's large host and had grown to the size of tennis ball within a few months. It became conscious and started to look for ways to control the host. Finally in the back of the brain, the entity found a connection of nerves that seemed to give it some control of the motor functions of the host. The entity experimented while the host was resting. First it gained control of one of the arms, then one leg and finally the rest of the body followed it's command. The entity understood that the brain had to be overpowered. If not, the host would regain control of the body. The entity did not want to harm the host. At least not yet. It had to escape this vessel somehow, without being detected. Some place warm. The entity needed heat and had correctly determined that the climate where its host was now would not suffise. So it waited and grew. It became bolder still and often regained control of the host during nights and started to explore. There was a lot to learn if it was to survive long enough to multiply.
The Martin company jet landed smoothly at the runway and taxed slowly in the Aerodrome Botelho, a private airport in the outskirts of Brasilia. It was summer in Brazil and the heat met Mingo like a wall when he exited the plane and walked rapidly towards customs. He was a Brazilian citizen, the process went smoothly and soon he entered the car that he had rented in forehand. The Hyundai was white and reacted well to his touch. There was someone he needed to talk to and it was important. Mingo had studied the information received from John Martin about the target shrewdly. It was a man of power. The luxury yacht was currently situated some 20 miles outside of Salvador harbor. Such a large vessel needed to restock from time to time and it was during this period that Mingo had decided to make his move. The target would stay in the area for five more days before leaving. This should be enough time for Mingo to complete his mission. John Martin had specified that the target needed to be taken out with finesse. Mingo had toyed with the idea of infiltrating the crew and had decided it was worth the risk. He needed a special poison and he also knew where to get it. He also required a great driver for his get away. Luckily Mingo knew where to locate these very specific requirements.
The Chevrolet Opala prototype Deluxe Sedan was hard to handle with the powerful v8 engine, but Marco had found a way to construct a customized gear shift system that made the transmission more streamlined and the immediate response of the car more fluid. He was wrestling with the car now, but remained in control towards the last curve, he slammed the brakes swiftly and used the slide to perfection before again adding power and resurfaced out of the curve with great speed. Still some more tweaks that had to be done to this car before it could be used for the secret races he and some friends still attended. He was now retired from the Brazilian stock car circuit after winning it multiple times during the late 1970's and during a large part of the 80's, but still drove as well or better then the current drivers. The suspension also had to be tightened slightly, he noticed while speeding across the finish line at the test track. He was a co-owner of the track along with his friend Vincent who also was a noted stock car driver. The two men could not look more different but when it came to racing they were like one individual organism. Marco was built like a bear with big shoulders, hairy arms and a big powerful chest while Vincent was slimmer in build with a angular face and with hands that were as lethal behind the wheels as any other driver alive. They both shared the love of the power of driving fast and being inches from death at any given minute. To feel the motor and the immense sensation between their legs were better than sex for the two drivers. Well, almost better than sex. They both had a large appetite in women and lived accordingly. They were also smugglers, pilots and dabbled in experimental illegal coctaitions in their large hangar, complete with an airfield and a racetrack out in the sticks far away from prying eyes. Mingo was watching as the Opala crossed the finish line while smoking a cuban cigar. Vincent was already walking towards him with a sly smile on his face. Mingo! How the fuck are you, you old bastard? You look great! Marco had left the Opala now and was also smiling. Do you guys still keep that small bar of yours here? We sure fucking do! How have you been you motherfucker?
The three men were sitting together in the small bar in the hangar and drinking Original, the smooth Brazilian canned beer that offers only salvation for thirsty souls. After reminiscing about past days, racing, women, drugs and numerous adventures, Mingo got down to business. I need a driver, he said plainly and I also need information. Do you still maintain the same information channels in Rio and Salvador? Vincent nodded. Of course. Okay. I need to know about a certain ship that is now docked outside of Salvador. It's a luxury yacht called The Seabreeze. It's privatly owned by a rich motherfucker. I know they are now changing certain parts of their crew. and restocking. The workers on this cruise ship change only once a year and that's why I need to become part of this new crew within the next 2 days. Marco laughed. No less huh? Mingo continued: I also need a getaway driver who can pick me up when I leave the ship and that can take me somewhere to lay low for a while. Finally, I also need a poison that works fast but not too fast. It needs to be very deadly and leave no trace in the victim's body afterwards. Vincent slowly rose and collected a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label. He opened it and filled up three glasses to the brim. Tim tim! The ceremonial toast was done and the three men slung the whisky down the hatch. So my friend, what is in all of this for us? Vincent asked. Mingo looked at him with a serious glimmer in his clear brown eyes. I will pay you one million reais each now, and one more after the rest is done! The two men did not speak at first. Then they both smiled. I guess we have a deal then, said Mingo. Now, let's go over the details.