Donna Silvaro

Chapter 3

Back in Bermuda the night had descended. Donna Silvaro lovingly brushed her long mane of silky jet-black hair and thought of Billy Williams. She thought about tonight’s party, but more so of what she and Billy would do afterwards. It had been too long since they’d enjoyed each other’s fire, mostly because of the Gestapo-like doting of her parents, and somewhat because of Billy’s aloofness. But tonight he would hold her taught bronzed body, and Donna would willingly accept his animal embrace.

Donna was the product of a strict Catholic background. Her parents were old-school Portuguese migrants who had come to this new country chasing dreams of wealth and freedom, only to find that the pot at the end of the rainbow contained led instead of gold. Weighed down by the guilt and self-shame that the failure to achieve material abundance and social recognition brings to those who worship it; they willed the realization of those dreams to their daughter. And Donna now carried their burden. With the devoted duty of a stereotypical only female child born of Portuguese blood, she trudged their chosen path of sullen destiny knowing only too well that her chances to exit grew fewer each day. But the night held different opportunities. Tonight she would avail herself of one of them.

Donna applied the finishing touches to her makeup and inspected her handiwork in the mirror one last time. Approving, she sauntered naked into her bedroom and opened the slatted Venetian doors of her clothes closet. She wanted to look good tonight, especially good. Too good for Billy to continue his recent aloofness. She immediately chose a black leather mini that would show off her athletic and shapely legs and a silk white blouse with a low cut neckline that would enhance her smooth olive skin. From her chest of draws she chose a matching zebra skin bra and panties and a pair of black fishnet stockings to finish wrapping the package. Black stilettos would carry her. As she sat on her bed dressing she hoped Billy would bring an ample supply of his latest crop tonight. Lately it had been especially smooth, even inspirationally freeing, and Donna wanted more of that.

Across town in a simple but comfortable and efficient two bedroom apartment, Billy and Jake were getting ready in their own way. “Roll another one man, I’ll get a couple more beers” Billy cried out to Jake, who was sitting on the futon sofa watching a Seinfeld rerun on their big screen. Billy emerged from the kitchen beers in hand, and plopped himself down on the couch next to Jake. “Heineken and Hydroponics” he snickered, “what could be better, huh”?

“I tell you what man, it don’t get much better than our latest crop” bragged Jake. He was the hydroponics expert. Billy and Jake had decided about two years previously that an everyday nine to five existence was not for them, and had taken to the study of growing Grade A, high class marijuana. Billy had established the distribution plan, forging relationships in his old neighbourhood and searching out corrupt narcotics cops who either smoked pot themselves or didn’t see any harm in it, social or otherwise, or who just wanted money. He had been successful and they now pulled in about a quarter of a million tax-free, untraceable US dollars each every three months or so. Billy had put a lot of his aside, and after their next harvest, planned to get out of the business and open his long dreamed of school of Kung fu.

Jake, as the grower, had devoted himself to the study of Hydroponics, and was fast becoming a master of his trade. He had convinced Billy that Hydroponics would offer them the greatest profit. It was low maintenance, efficient, and of course would be easier to conceal than an outdoor site. He had built an ebb and flow system that gave him complete control over plants’ nutrient, water and oxygen intake. Better control over these factors meant faster, healthier growth and stronger potency, thus greater profit. The new nutrient formula he was using had yielded fantastic results and their cannabis was now sought after overseas. They were going to be international, and Jake savored the richness that would come. There was just the one problem he thought, his supplier of this new formula demanded absolute secrecy, not even Billy knew about it. He also wanted control of overseas delivery. Jake would break the news to Billy after placing the next order. In the meantime local sales were soaring, and this would be enough to keep them both happy until the time for expansion came.

“What time we gotta pick up Donna?” asked Jake, handing the now rolled and partially smoked “spliff” to Billy. “We got about another half hour to kill” replied Billy before he took a long smooth draw from the first class product that Jake had produced. “Man this stuff is smooth Jake. I gotta give it to you, you have outdone yourself dude. This stuff is magical!”

What Billy or anyone else who had smoked Jakes new product did not know, was that as the THC entered their bloodstream, it carried with it a genetically manufactured molecule of a neurologically acting pharmaceutical designed to electronically receive signals from a motherboard which would be used to transmit and implant thoughts into a person’s brain. It would be attached to the CB-1 receptors in the information processing centers of the brain along with the THC, giving the powers-that-be absolute control over their lives. It was a devilish plan, but so far it was working perfectly, and neither Billy nor Jake had a clue that they were playing a major role in its deployment. Calvin Litchfield did.