The Legacy Read online

  After he sent the email, Eric started searching the internet for information about the Olympics. He would be heading down to Brazil with his father in two days and was getting more and more excited about the trip. He would be just one of the thousands of people watching the competitions and Eric couldn’t imagine how excited Chip must be knowing that he would be competing.

  * * *

  Brian and Eric sat in the lounge outside of gate E20 in the Houston airport waiting for their flight down to Rio de Janeiro. They had already spent over three hours flying from Toronto to Houston and the next leg of the journey would be over ten hours, so their enthusiasm about going to the Olympics was starting to wane. Although they had flown economy class on the first leg of the trip, Brian was glad that they’d decided to fly first-class on the second leg.

  “Would you like a glass of champagne?” the stewardess asked shortly after they had boarded, “or would you like to try one of our hors d’oeuvres?”

  “No thanks,” Brian said. Eric also declined. They weren’t flying first-class to take advantage of the fancy food or free drinks. First class allowed them to take advantage of the flat-bed seats that could fully recline to over six feet in length so they could sleep on the overnight flight. Despite that, they both had trouble sleeping and found themselves wide awake at 5:00 a.m.

  “Do you think Chip has a realistic chance of winning a medal?” Eric asked his father.

  “Well, he’s never been ranked higher that twelfth in the world,” Brian said, “but there’s always upsets at the Olympics, so you never know. I just hope he enjoys the experience. Not very many people ever get to say they’ve competed in the Olympics.”

  “The last time I spoke to him, he sounded really stressed out. I think he’s worried about letting people down.”

  “Yeah, I know, but he shouldn’t,” Brian said. “I think the Crohn’s is taking a toll on him as well. He’s always been so confident, even cocky, but I think he’s starting to realize he’s not Superman after all.”

  The “Fasten Seat Belt” sign flashed on, so they knew they were starting to get close to landing. Eric looked out the window on his side of the plane but all he could see was water. As the plane banked, the city came into view.

  “What’s that?” Eric asked, pointing to a huge statue.

  “Christ the Redeemer.” Brian had been reading about some of the tourist attractions during the flight. “I read where it’s one of the largest statues in the world.” For sure, it was impressive. Brian wasn’t a religious man but just looking at this statue somehow felt inspiring about great things to come.

  “I know practically nothing about this place,” Eric confessed, “but it’s much bigger and more modern than I was expecting.”

  “It’s a huge city,” Brian said. “But I’ve been reading that it’s a mixture of modern buildings for the rich and favelas, or shanty towns, for the poor. For the Olympics, I’m sure they’ll be steering us away from the poorer parts of the city.”

  Eric scanned the impressive looking city. He could also see how quickly the landscape changed from modern city to dense jungle just outside of the city limits. “Oh, Chip and I registered for that tour you recommended after the Olympics. It’s supposed to include a tour of the whole city and some of the rest of Brazil as well.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Brian said. “I feel a lot better knowing you guys will be on a tour bus rather than just trekking around on your own.”

  The stewardess came through the cabin and asked the passengers to prepare for landing. After they had landed and gone through customs, Brian and Eric found the shuttle that would take them to the Sheraton. It was a five-star hotel, but wasn’t as ritzy as places like the Copacabana, one of the top-rated hotels in Rio. When they got to their room, they both crashed for the rest of the day to recover from their long flight.

  *** Chapter 6 ***

  The sun still wasn’t up when Maria Silva rose from her bed in Rochina de Favela. The building that she lived in swayed in the wind. She was convinced a strong wind would blow the whole thing over some day, along with all of the other makeshift buildings in the favela. She heard the jet fly overhead as yet another plane-load of Olympic tourists arrived and wondered how her mother could continue to sleep.

  As she watched her sleep, Maria could see that her mother had once been a real beauty, but that was before life had beaten her down. Maria had never known her father. Talk was that her father had been one of the drug lords who controlled the favela, or did until he was murdered. Some people said he had been killed by a rival gang member, but Maria had also heard the whispers that her mother had done the deed herself. Maria had asked her mother once, and only once, whether the story was true. She still had the mark by her left ear where her mother had hit her.

  Maria looked at herself in the mirror. She could still see the scar on the side of her face, despite the poor light in the room and the numerous cracks in the mirror. She pulled her long black hair forward to hide the scar. But the mirror also showed that Maria had inherited her mother’s beauty. She slipped on the dress that revealed every supple curve in her body, debating how many buttons on the front to leave undone. She decided the more conservative route would be best this morning.

  She quietly closed the door and started her walk to work at the Copacabana. She wasn’t on the official payroll of the hotel, but had an arrangement with the maître d’ that she could work there just for tips. She had a similar arrangement with the bartender at night.

  “Take these to table twelve,” Lorenzo said when he saw her arrive. “They’ve been waiting for quite a while.”

  Maria took a quick glance at table twelve and saw a family of four, with the mother and father trying to entertain their kids who were obviously getting restless. The clothes they wore indicated they were rich, as were all of the patrons at the Copacabana. She quickly loaded up her tray with their order, stole some fresh fruit and some croissants from another order that was waiting to be delivered, and headed off.

  “I’m terribly sorry for the delay,” Maria said in flawless English. The staff had been told to speak English at work as it made the customers feel more comfortable. “We’ve included some fresh fruit and some croissants, courtesy of the hotel.” Before she gave the kids their meals, she rearranged the fruit so they showed a happy-face on their plates.

  “Cool,” giggled the kids in delight when they saw them.

  She complimented the lady at how pretty her dress was when she placed her meal on the table. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it,” the lady said as she reached over and touched her husband’s arm. “Jean-Pierre bought it for me yesterday.”

  “You have very fine taste,” Maria said to the man. When she picked up the plates after they had finished their meal, Maria could see how appreciative they were in the generous tip they left. They also left a note saying “Thanks for taking care of us while in your beautiful country” signed by Jean-Pierre and Sylvia Girard. Maria sighed as she dreamed about the life they must have.

  “Could you take the order at table eighteen,” Lorenzo said, interrupting Maria’s daydream. Maria looked over at the table and saw six men, probably in their mid-twenties or early thirties. She undid a couple of buttons at the top of her dress and a few more at the bottom and headed over.

  “What can I interest you in today?” she said when she arrived. She leaned in to take their order as if she was having trouble hearing them. She wasn’t wearing a bra, which was easily noticed by each of the men as they placed their order. As she served their meals, Maria continued to flirt with them.

  “We’ll be back again tomorrow,” they said when they were leaving the restaurant. One of the men kissed her hand as he was leaving, slipping her a crisp U.S. $50 bill when he did so.

  Maria knew exactly how to work a room to obtain the biggest tips - when to be totally conservative and professional, and when to be a little more provocative. She didn’t have to deliver sex to make money. There were plenty of women in Rio ready
and willing to do that. But Maria had learned that she could make more money providing the anticipation of sex rather than actually delivering it.

  After the breakfast rush was over, Maria walked back home with her tips held in her hand. You would think that she would be an easy mark, walking through the favela with a wad of cash in her hand. But no one ever touched Maria. It was understood by everyone that she was untouchable. When she arrived back home, she placed the money on the table.

  “Is that all you got?” her mother asked.

  *** Chapter 7 ***

  A few days later, Chip and Michael looked out of the window as their plane descended into Rio. Chip’s mind was racing with the anticipation of his upcoming events in the Olympics. “The Olympics” he said to himself. Just saying it caused his heart to flutter.

  All of the U.S. athletes were seated together in the same section of the plane and the coach had spoken to them several times during the flight about the importance of having their security credentials with them at all times. Sadly, the Olympics were a perfect target for terrorists.

  “Please keep any information about your identification pass completely confidential,” Coach McDonald warned. “At the London Olympics in 2012, several athletes innocently posted pictures of their ID passes, including the barcode, on their Facebook pages. While I know you all want to keep your family and fans up-to-date on your Olympic experience, this is extremely dangerous. In London, it didn’t take long for some of these fake IDs to start appearing at the venues. Remember, all of this security is there to protect you.”

  “I remember that,” Michael whispered to Chip, recalling his experience in London. “One of the British athletes tweeted out a picture of himself posing with his identification pass. It caused a security nightmare.”

  As the athletes disembarked the plane, they were led down a special hallway separate from the rest of the passengers. Their IDs were scanned by electronic readers when they entered the hallway and again when they boarded the bus which would take them to the Olympic Village where all of the athletes, trainers and coaches were being housed. There were the normal security personnel that you would see at any airport, but there were also armed military personnel at every entrance and exit. Chip felt intimidated by all of the fully automatic weapons that were on display.

  As he stepped off the bus at the Olympic Village, his ID was scanned again. He was alarmed when the reader flashed a red light and a buzzer sounded.

  “Sir, would you please step to the side,” the security agent said to Chip. Immediately, Chip saw several guns pointed in his direction and he froze in his spot. “Have you had any problems with this pass at any of the other checkpoints?” the agent asked.

  “No,” Chip croaked. The lump in his throat was so large that he could hardly speak. He cleared his throat before continuing. “They scanned it when I was at the airport and before I got on the bus. This is the first problem that I’ve had.”

  “Have you been in possession of your security pass the entire time?” the agent asked.

  “Yes, it’s been around my neck the whole time,” Chip replied.

  The security agent wiped the pass on his shirt-sleeve and attempted to scan it again. This time it flashed green. “Sometimes they just pick up a little dirt. You may proceed.”

  The guns pointed in Chip’s direction were lowered to let him pass, but he felt the eyes of the soldiers continue to monitor his every movement. Chip was sure that he didn’t take another breath until he stepped through the door of his room at the Olympic Village. The room reminded him of his dorm room at the residence at Ohio State and he was pleased that he would be sharing it with Michael.

  “It kind of makes you feel like you’re in prison, doesn’t it?” Michael said as he threw his gear into the corner of the room, “but it’s actually for our own protection.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” Chip said, “but I may have wet myself a little bit when they pointed those guns at me.” Michael laughed, but Chip knew it was pretty close to the truth.

  “Now that we’re inside the Olympic Village, you can relax a bit,” Michael said, “but you should be prepared for that every time we leave to go to one of our events. I’ve been through this a few times now. You’ll get used to it. After a while, you’ll come to feel safer when the security guys are around. When they’re not there, that’s when you should start looking over your shoulder.”

  After getting settled in their room, Chip and Michael headed down to the common room which was filled with athletes from the various countries. They headed into one of the side rooms which had numerous computers available for their use. Chip felt a lot more relaxed among all of the other athletes.

  “Hey, could you take a picture of us?” Chip asked one of the other competitors. “I want to post it on my Facebook page.”

  The other athlete didn’t understand English very well, but “Facebook” seemed to be the same in any language, so he got the gist of what was being asked. Chip and Michael posed for the picture, both making sure they covered their IDs for the photo.

  “Are you going to post a picture for all of your admirers?” Michael teased.

  “Yeah, both of them,” Chip answered. “I told my dad and my brother that I’d be posting things so we could keep in touch.” Although they were all now in the same city, the security around the Olympics made it practically impossible for Chip to see his brother or his father in person.

  Chip and Michael scanned the room looking for a computer that wasn’t being used, but every one of them was taken. Chip headed over to stand behind a girl who looked like she might be getting close to finishing.

  “I’ll be a few more minutes,” the girl said when she became aware that someone was hovering over her shoulder. She pulled the computer in a little closer so that Chip couldn’t see what she was typing on the screen.

  “No problem,” Chip said. “Take your time.” He took a step back to give her a bit more privacy. She had long blonde hair which she had pulled to the side which revealed a slender neck that Chip couldn’t help but notice had a small tattoo of a red maple leaf on it. “What part of Canada are you from?” Chip asked.

  “Kitchener,” she replied.

  “I’m from London,” Chip said.

  She turned around and smiled, but raised one eyebrow when she saw the USA team logo on the shirt Chip was wearing. “Really? All evidence to the contrary.”

  Chip shrugged. “Yeah, I’m actually competing for the U.S. team because I moved to the States to go to Ohio State, but I was born and raised in Canada. My dad and brother still live there.”

  “Traitor,” she said as she turned back to her keyboard.

  Chip found himself really attracted to this girl, so didn’t want to just give up. “So, what events are you competing in?”

  “Women’s hurdles, both the 100 metre and 400 metre events.”

  “I’m competing in the 5K and 10K events,” Chip said, but he wasn’t sure she heard him, or even cared.

  “It’s all yours,” she said as she logged off the computer and rose from her chair.

  “I’m Chip Baxter,” he said as he extended his hand.

  “Robin,” she said, shaking his hand. She didn’t give her last name.

  “I hear they’re giving tours of the facilities to the athletes later on tonight,” Chip said. “Are you interested in going on one of them?”

  “My teammates and I are already registered for the tour starting at 6:45,” Robin answered. “Maybe I’ll see you then.”

  “Great,” Chip said. “I’ll be sure to be there.” Chip watched as she walked over to join her teammates.

  Michael still hadn’t found an available computer so he headed over to use the same one that Chip had found. “My, she’s a healthy looking girl,” Michael said as he approached.

  Chip knew exactly what he meant. “Yes, she is put together extremely well,” he sighed.

  Chip sat down at the computer and uploaded the picture of himself and Michael to his Faceb
ook page. After posting his update, Chip checked his brother’s Facebook page and saw a picture of Eric and their dad standing outside of the Sheraton hotel, so Chip knew they had also made it to Rio safe and sound.

  Michael uploaded the same picture of Chip and himself to his own Facebook page. “That’s not for my fans,” he explained. “It’s just so my mom and dad can see what’s going on,” Michael said. “They wanted to come but it’s pretty expensive and I was worried about all of the news about potential terrorist attacks, so I told them to stay at home this time. Besides, they’ve already seen me compete at the last two Olympics.”

  * * *

  Later that day, Michael stood waiting for Chip. “Didn’t you say you were meeting that girl at 6:45?” Michael asked. “You’ve literally got one minute to get dressed and over to where the tour starts.”

  Chip had just stepped out of the shower. He was going to be late, as usual. “Could you head over there and tell her I’m on my way?”

  “I’ll try,” Michael said, “but no guarantees.”

  It was almost fifteen minutes later when Chip showed up and saw Michael leaning up against a pillar in the common room. “Did Robin not show up?” Chip asked.

  “Yeah, she’s come and gone,” Michael answered. “You’ve got to realize girls like that won’t wait around for your sorry ass. Robin and her teammates headed off with some guys from Australia, and given that one of those guys was already sporting a medal, I think you just blew any chance you had with that girl.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Chip and Michael boarded a bus to take them to one of the training sites which was located in another part of the city. There were no fans allowed at this track as it was only used by the Olympic athletes for training, not competing. Still, security was strictly controlled with only the athletes and their coaches allowed access.