Sample Excerpt #2 from Coffee Crash: Magic
Contents copyright © 2012 by Steve Hoffenberg. All rights reserved.
Chapter 12
“One man’s ‘magic’ is another man’s engineering.”
Science fiction writer Robert A. Heinlein (1907–1988)
August 7, 2013
Matt Cochran and Rami Parananda stood at the railing of the balcony, both wearing black blazers over black T-shirts and black pants. They absorbed the scene below them in the medium-sized Colonial Ballroom of the St. Francis Hotel on San Francisco’s Union Square. Nearly one hundred guests were milling about, casually leaning against the two-story neo-Corinthian columns, admiring the Tuscan mural covering an entire wall, and sampling the Cajun grilled shrimp, Jamaican jerked chicken strips, medallions of veal saltimbocca, tournedos Provençal, and vegetarian spanakopita served by strolling waiters and waitresses in white satin jackets. And, of course, they were all sipping assorted selections of the company’s finest gourmet brews from the special edition bright yellow ceramic mugs, poured by designated wait staff in yellow satin jackets.
Cochran asked, “What was our marketing budget for this little event?”
Parananda replied, “Thirty K for the place, food, and AV services. Plus another two hundred K to develop your presentation, although much of that will be reused. Then there’s the eleven million for our special guest’s contract.”
“Just a drop in the cup, Rami.”
“Remember, Matt, these guys are professional cynics. They are predisposed to pooh-pooh anything we say.”
“Leave the naysayers to me.” Cochran checked his watch. “Ten minutes to show time. Shall we descend into our adoring masses?”
Before turning away, Parananda motioned down into the crowd. “Looks like our emissary succeeded. There’s Goterrez, and he’s already got the newspaper in his hand.”
Parananda took hold of a wireless microphone.“ATTENTION LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” his voice boomed throughout the ballroom, too loud for his own taste, so he toned it down. “Please take your seats.”
A computer automatically transcribed the spoken words into text in near real time, and displayed it on a large screen monitor to the left of the stage for the audience to see.
Parananda ascended the steps onto the open stage platform, followed by the lenses of three video cameras stationed around the room to record the event for posterity. “Welcome, from Bright Cup Incorporated. I’m Rami Parananda, Vice President of Marketing. I remind all of you that portions of this press conference contain forward-looking statements based on management’s expectations and projections. These statements are not guarantees of future performance. Actual results may differ materially from what is discussed here, due to a variety of factors, including but not limited to: our CEO’s inability to stick to a single business model for more than two consecutive quarters; increasingly fickle customer preferences in pastry fruit-filling flavors; a possible shortage of soy-based yellow ink to print our trademark paper cups and napkins; labor unrest on the part of our Squawkie bird toys seeking free range status; and... my distant cousin from Central America, El Niño.” The attendees smiled. “In all seriousness folks, you know the drill. Stuff happens. So take everything we say here with a great big grain of impertinence. We ask that you please hold your questions until the designated Q and A session at the end of the presentation. And now, without further ado, please welcome... the CEO, President, and Founder of Bright Cup Incorporated, Mister MATTHEW COCHRAN.”
Cochran, who had been standing at the rear of the ballroom, sprinted past the round banquet tables toward the stage, the tails of his black blazer fluttering, then he leapt up the stage stairs two at a time. Parananda handed him the microphone and stepped off the stage.
Standing on the barren stage, Cochran brushed back his long black hair with an overhead motion, then raised the microphone to his mouth. “On the day I first announced the formation of Bright Cup Inc., nine years ago in this very room on this very stage, I slipped and fell coming onto the stage like that, breaking my nose, and I had to give the rest of my speech with a handkerchief pressed to my nose sopping up the blood drips. I still keep that hankie as a memento.” He pulled out from his suit pocket a bloodstained handkerchief, which he waved in his hand as he swept an arm out across the room. “How many of you folks were here that day?” About a dozen raised their hands. “From that inauspicious beginning, I am here again today to announce to you the greatest series of innovations in our company’s history. We at Bright Cup have always been on the cutting edge of the retail coffee business.” Cochran stretched the handkerchief by two opposing corners between the microphone and his free hand, forming a strait edge along its top. “Innovation has been the cornerstone that has enabled us to grow from being just another startup, into a bona fide higher flyer.” Cochran quickly tossed the handkerchief into the air, and a small red bird flew away from it.
Parananda applauded, and most of the others half-heartedly followed.
Cochran continued, “Today ladies and gentlemen, we are unveiling three new innovations that will poise Bright Cup to leap to the top, past our friendly competitors from up north in Pork-land and Chichi-attle. But first, can I have a volunteer?”
Several attendees raised their hands, and Cochran pointed to a man seated nearest the back of the room. “Sir, what’s your name?”
“Derek Zheng.”
“OK, Derek. I’d like you to get up and pick out one of those bags of coffee we have on that table at the back of the room. Pick any one you like. You’re all going to get them on your way out later, by the way.”
The man walked over to the table and picked a bag.
“Bring it up here to the front, please.”
The man carried it around the side of the room to the left front edge of the stage, where he remained standing on the lower level of the floor.
“Please, open it up and confirm that it contains coffee beans.”
The man unfolded the top of the bag, dug his hand deep inside, and pulled out a handful of beans for all to see.
“Now pour the beans back into the bag and close it up again. And for the next couple of minutes, I’d like you to stand right there holding that bag.”
The man nodded.
Cochran raised both hands over his head, then slowly lowered them to his sides as a giant projection screen descended behind him. A Bright Cup parrot logo appeared to fill the screen. He stepped to the side of the screen.
“For starters, we at Bright Cup are about to bring a whole new meaning to the term ‘Hot Coffee.’” The image on the screen faded to a video of a worker carefully hand-plucking small reddish-orange fruits from a leafy bush. Accompanied by Mexican instrumental music, the camera slowly zoomed in, until it became apparent that the fruits were too large to be coffee cherries, the color wasn’t right, and the shape wasn’t sufficiently round... “That’s right, folks, peppers. And not just any peppers, but Habanero peppers. These suckers are the hottest, nastiest, and most flavorful beasts to ever grace the branches of a pepper bush. Others have experimented with pepper flavored coffees in the past, going nearly as far back as the origins of coffee itself, although the results have not been well-received. Now, we at Bright Cup have developed a proprietary process that extracts not only the heat-inducing capsaicin from the Habeneros, but also other flavor-enhancing compounds that are at their peak during a specific stage of pepper ripeness. Our test marketing has revealed a surprisingly potent market for a specialty coffee spiced with just the right amount of this Habanero extract, as demonstrated in these actual customer reactions during confidential consumer taste-testing sessions.”
The video image faded to a series of shots of people taking drinks from yellow cups.
The first man shook his head comically, flapping his lips as though he were a cartoon character, then screamed, “WOW, THAT’S GOOD!” The audience chuckled.
The next man strongly snorted in through his nose.“Hot-cha-cha. Where can I buy this stuff?”
A woman took a sip from a full cup, then savored it slowly. The video faded to her draining the last few drops from the bottom of the cup. “Oooo... It leaves my mouth all tingly.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell my husband, but this is better than you-know-what.” The women in the audience laughed.
A woman bundled up outdoors in a winter coat, drank some down from a steaming cup. Text superimposed on the lower portion of the screen indicated the locale as St. Paul, Minnesota. “This is the best warm-me-up drink I’ve ever had. It’s got me glowing from the inside out. And I bet in a pinch I could use it as anti-freeze in the SUV.” This time the men laughed.
Another woman chugged down a whole cup in under five seconds, then she held it out for a refill. “Talk about a wake up call! A cup or two of this stuff in the morning, and I’ll be done with a whole day’s work before lunchtime.”
The video image faded back to the Bright Cup logo, to assorted applause from about half the audience.
Cochran continued, “We call this new specialty drink ‘Hot Stuff’, and just to deflect any prospective class action lawsuits, no, we do not recommend its use as an automotive anti-freeze. In Phase One of the product rollout, starting next week, we’ll begin offering Hot Stuff in all our shops in the Southwest, including southern California, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas. Phase One will be supported by a twenty-one million dollar advertising campaign, including both radio and interactive television spots in the major markets within the target States. We are also finalizing an agreement with a major chain of Mexican-food restaurants to offer Hot Stuff in all their outlets. In Phase Two, starting in December, we’ll introduce it to the far northern States. And by Phase Three next June, all of America will be burning with desire for our exclusive new Hot Stuff.” The audience applauded politely.
Cochran then walked over to the front edge of the stage and bent down.
“OK, Derek. Please hold up the bag toward me. I’m not going to touch it, but I need to work my mojo on it.” Cochran put the palm of his hand about a foot away from the bag, then rapidly thrust the hand forward a few inches, as though he were smacking something away. “Now, Derek, gently shake the bag to transform the beans.” He began doing so. “You may feel the bag getting lighter.” After a few more seconds, Cochran said, “Go ahead, open up the bag, and dump out its entire contents onto the stage.”
Out from the bag came a pile of Habanero peppers, and no coffee beans. Nearly every face in the audience, especially Derek's, bore a look of surprise, and a smattering of applause broke out.
“Thank you, Derek. You may return to your seat.” Cochran clapped for Derek and the audience followed.
Cochran paused to set down the microphone at the edge of the stage and take a sip of water from a glass. While he did so, two workers carried a table with chrome legs and a steel plate top to the center of the stage. Another pair of workers carried on stage an empty glass fish tank, and set it on the table. The tank was about three feet long and two by two feet on the side. Cochran then stood up and walked all around the table, occasionally poking an arm or a leg in the tank or underneath the table to demonstrate that the spaces were indeed empty. When he returned to the front of the table, he motioned to a man in the front row of banquet tables, and waved for him to come up on stage to check the table and tank. The man hopped up on stage and looked all around the tank and table, finishing by crawling completely under the table on his hands and knees. Cochran gave him a mock kick in the butt to dismiss him from the stage. Smiles from the crowd. Parananda tossed Cochran a large black velvet cloth. Cochran flamboyantly held up the cloth, sweeping it back and forth through the air like a matador, to show that it was not concealing anything.
Cochran then shook the cloth out into the air and draped it over the tank and table, such that the edges of the cloth extended about a foot below the surface of the table but well above the floor, so anything coming up from below would have been visible. He took a step away from the table, then silently began waving his hands at the glass tank under the cloth in abracadabra fashion. When nothing apparently happened, he sighed heavily and thrust his hands to his hips in feigned frustration. The crowd chuckled. Cochran took another step further away from the table, towards the front edge of the stage, and repeated the attempt, with the same results. Next, he pointed a finger into the air in an Ah ha! exclamation. He turned to the audience, he humorously peered at the faces in the front row of tables, then pointed firmly at a woman. She glanced around with a genuine Who me? look. Cochran motioned for her to stand up, which she reluctantly did only after encouragement from the woman seated next to her. He pantomimed for her to begin the abracadabra movements along with him, which she did in a wimpy manner. The audience laughed. Cochran rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, moving his entire head, then motioned for her to participate more vigorously. When she eventually got into it, he circled a finger beside his head, indicating that she was cuckoo. She stopped and frowned at him with arms akimbo.
Cochran picked up the microphone. “Thank you, ma’am. I couldn’t have done it without you.” He ran to the table and quickly yanked off the cloth, revealing that inside the glass tank, now sat a large, horizontally-oriented stainless steel machine with polished chrome trim. It had an oval door and two pushbuttons on the front.
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is our second innovation, the Roastronic, a fully automated coffee roaster designed for installation in our cafés.” Murmurs from the crowd. “Every one of us in this room is aware that the best tasting coffee is achieved by grinding and brewing the beans within a day or so of roasting. Most specialty coffee shops grind their own beans, but those beans are usually provided by separate companies that have roasted them days, weeks or even months in advance of consumption. What’s the result? An unfortunate sacrifice in coffee taste.
“For the last nine years, we at Bright Cup have endeavored to bring consumers the best coffee in the business. We have always operated our own roasting facilities at regional plants around the country, and through a special agreement with Federal Express, have delivered our beans to our stores within three days of roasting.” Cochran lowered his voice in a stage whisper. “We give all the FedEx drivers free coffee.” The crowd chuckled.
Cochran walked up to the front of the stage. “A small number of independent coffee shops around the country roast their own beans on site, and they can produce excellent coffee by doing so. But the process is cumbersome and finicky, not to mention demanding a large investment in equipment. The process is also inherently inconsistent due to variables such as cultivated bean variety, size, age, and moisture content, which make it less than ideal to use time-based or temperature-based methods for automatically detecting when the beans are at their optimum roast. And, more importantly, it has been futile to attempt to take large numbers of baristas and train them to consistently roast good beans. Due to such factors, no major coffee retailer has ever introduced on-site roasting to its entire nationwide chain. That is, until now. Ladies and gentlemen, with the Roastronic, Bright Cup Incorporated is poised to take the next step forward in coffee freshness, and to take the next step ahead of the competition.”
Cochran walked back to the table and rapped the top of the machine with his knuckle. “Bright Cup has developed this little puppy in conjunction with a small engineering firm in Massachusetts. It can be fueled via hook up to a natural gas inlet or propane tank, and we’ll have an all-electric version soon. It features automatic chaff removal, to prevent any tainting of the taste, as well smoke- and vapor-recovery through a miniature catalytic oxidizer, for suitability in virtually any retail establishment with no emissions of volatile organic compounds or other hazardous substances.
“But the Roastronic’s greatest new feature, and the one that will make it most palatable, if you will, to our customers, is its patented roasting system. For those of you who have never witnessed the process, when coffee beans are roasting, they literally crack open at a particular point in the process, then, if roasting continues, they will crack a second time. With the Roastronic system, through the use of electronic audio detectors in the roasting chamber...” Cochran pointed to the front of the machine through the glass tank. “...and sophisticated digital audio signal processing, this machine listens for the cracking sounds, and just like an expert roastmaster, it can distinguish the subtle cracking from the louder noise of agitating the beans. The exact process varies depending on the bean variety and the desired roast. In the case of our House Blend, the Roastronic automatically shuts off the heat when it hears that the beans have just begun cracking a second time, producing the perfect level of roast for the tastes of Bright Cup’s customers in the American market. After a brief cooling period, the beans are automatically ejected into the bin on the bottom. All the operator does is pour a load of beans into the chamber, then simply wave a barcode past this sensor on the front identifying the variety of beans. The Roastronic will take care of the rest. With the patented Roastronic roasting system, we have perfectly roasted beans every time. And it’s a Bright Cup exclusive. Starting next week, we will begin by installing these Roastronics in dozens of our retail outlets, and by the end of next year, virtually every Bright Cup Café in the country will be roasting its own coffee beans on site.” Enthusiastic applause from the audience.
Cochran then picked up the black cloth, shook it out, then laid it back over the glass tank and table. “And now, for our last major announcement of the day.” The video image on the screen changed to a series of statistical charts and graphs, correlating age, household income, education level, and coffee consumption rates. “Bright Cup’s retail coffee business has been remarkably successful at attracting American adults and their wallets to our shops by providing a full range of desirable consumables served in comfortable environments. But our nation’s teenagers prefer by far to hang out and spend their money at mall game arcades and food courts, drinking soda pop.” The video screen showed a red soda can with computer-generated protruding devil horns and tail. “In an effort to foster the development of the next generation of America’s coffee drinking consumers, to help them acquire an early taste for our black gold, and of course to inculcate them with Bright Cup brand loyalty, we announce the launch of a new chain of teen-oriented beverage shops, called Bright Teen Cafés, which will be located in select shopping malls across the country, beginning in October.” The screen changed to show a stylized Bright Teen logo. Miscellaneous mumbles of curiosity from the crowd. “These shops will feature a full range of fruit juices, carbonated beverages, energy drinks, and specialty coffees, with comfortable, moveable seating and of course blazing fast Internet connections, fostering social networking both in-person and online. In addition, over the next year, we’ll be introducing in those Bright Teen Cafés a variety of teen-targeted drinks and snacks, including coffee-cola combination sodas in both regular and decaf, freshly baked espresso-bean-and-chocolate-chip cookies and brownies, and a host of additional products to be unveiled soon at a separate forthcoming press conference.”
Cochran paused for effect, while the audience waited in rapt attention. “And a critical component of the Bright Teen Café business will be our marketing strategy to reach those teens, to hold their interest, to bring them into our shops, to encourage them to hang out and consume there, and to entice them to keep coming back for more.” He strolled over to the table with the large box still covered by the black cloth. “To that end, Bright Cup announces an exclusive, four-year endorsement contract with teen singing sensation, the performer of three top ten pop hits including ‘Drink Up My Love’,... JENNIFER HALSTEAD!” Pop beat music began to blare over the loudspeakers. Cochran grabbed a corner of the black cloth, and in one swift motion yanked off the cloth.
Where the Roastronic device had last been seen in the glass tank under the cover, this time crouched inside was a small person in bright yellow attire. The audience let out a collective gasp of astonishment. The young woman slowly rose up to a standing position in the tank, and with arms pointed upward, she revealed her flowing blond hair and her petite physique squeezed into the sequined one-piece body suit with a gaping hole in the midriff. The audience broke into spontaneous applause. Cochran gentlemanly offered Halstead a hand climbing out of the tank and down from the table. He handed her the microphone, then stepped aside. Halstead began to rhythmically dance to the beat of the music. After a few seconds, she came to a stop and broke into song, “You got my heart/You know what I’m made of/You got me flowing/Now drink up my love...” After two minutes of alternately singing and dancing with increasing intensity, the music reached its crescendo, she tossed the microphone, arcing it back through the air to Cochran at the side of the stage, and her acrobatic dance finale ended with her on the stage floor in a flourishing full leg split with arms outstretched.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN,” Cochran yelled, “LET’S HEAR IT FOR MISS JENNIFER HALSTEAD!” Profuse cheers and applause. Cochran offered her a hand up from the floor. Standing side by side, he was a full head taller than the singer. He paused to allow her to catch her breath, then he raised the microphone and spoke, “Jennifer, we at Bright Cup are pleased that you have agreed to endorse our Bright Teen Cafés and our new line of Bright Teen drinks and snacks.”
He tilted the microphone down to her. In her girlish speaking voice, which contrasted markedly from her full-throated singing voice, she responded, “Mister Cochran, I am SOOOOOooooo excited to represent your company. I look forward to four years of actively promoting Bright Cup and Bright Teen, and I thank you for this precious opportunity to bring your products to my generation. I just looooove your Java Jive blend.” She pointed a hand out toward the audience, “...And I hope to see all of you,...” She looked back and forth at the faces. “...well, maybe all of your kids...” Audience laughs. “...or maybe even your grandkids...” More laughs.“...during my upcoming concert tour, to be sponsored by BRIGHT CUP INCORPORATED.”
The audience applauded continually while Cochran helped Halstead climb back onto the table on the stage and into the glass tank. She slowly crouched down inside the clear box. He walked to the side of the stage and picked up the black cloth. He shook out the cloth, and once again draped it over the box and table. He turned to the audience. “OK, everybody give me help with the abracadabra, now...” Cochran and most of the attendees reached out their arms and flailed them in the direction of the box beneath the cloth. After about 10 seconds, during which he marveled to himself at the easily manipulated crowd behavior, Cochran counted down, “Three, two, one...” He grabbed a corner of the black cloth and yanked it away, exposing the now-empty glass tank. The audience broke into another round of applause. Cochran took a dramatic bow, then said, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I’d be happy to entertain any questions you might have.”
Sitting at a banquet table near the rear of the hall, Hank Ridley of Business Week tapped away at the Bluetooth keyboard for his iPad, feverishly attempting to capture his notes and comments before he forgot everything he had witnessed, “...wild ideas from Cochran. Impressive showmanship. Remains to be seen if resulting business will be equally impressive...”
Cochran pointed to a man with his hand raised on the left side of the room. An attendant jogged over with a microphone.
“Bob Mackenstein, from the San Francisco Chronicle. I think what we’d all like to know, Matt, is how you did it. How’d you get Jennifer Halstead to appear like that?”
Cochran let out a wry smile. “How’d I get Jennifer Halstead to appear? Why, I paid her a lot of money, of course. Her contract is for eleven million dollars...”
“What I meant was...”
“I know what you meant, Bob. The answer is, it’s magic. And it was just as easy to do with the living, breathing Miss Halstead as it was with the inanimate Roastronic machine. But if I told you folks in this room how it was done, it certainly wouldn’t be a secret anymore, now would it? However, if you’d like to see the trick again, Miss Halstead will be appearing, and disappearing, at the grand opening of our first Bright Teen Café at The Mall Of America on October seventeenth.”
He pointed to a woman on the right.
“Shameeka Johnson, from The Wall Street Journal. How much capital equipment expenditure will it take to outfit all your shops with the Roastronics, Mr. Cochran? And how much savings do you anticipate in operating expenses at your regional roasting facilities as a result of having these units installed at retail?”
He answered these, and a dozen other assorted questions about the announcements, deliberately avoiding pointing in the direction of Tony Goterrez, who repeatedly raised his hand. Then Cochran began to close, “If that’s all the questions for today, I’d like to thank...”
“MISTER COCHRAN,” a voice shouted from the back, unaided by amplification.
“Do we have another question?” Cochran pointed in the direction of the voice.
A microphone arrived. “Mister Cochran. Tony Goterrez of Coffee Retailer News.”
“Ah, yes, Tony. It’s always a pleasure to have your smiling moustache gracing our coffee cups.”
“I hate to put a bit of a damper on your festivities, sir, but would you care to comment on this...” He held aloft a newspaper. “It’s yesterday’s O Jornal de São Paulo, The São Paulo Journal. The front page headline and main story is about a rapidly progressing new fungus that has already devastated at least one major coffee plantation. Scientists haven’t found any means of stopping it yet, and if it continues to proliferate, it could potentially wipe out Brazil’s remaining unharvested coffee crop this year and ruin the coffee trees for years to come.” A wave of murmurs progressed through the crowd. “Brazil is the world’s number one producer of coffee beans.”
“Do you have a specific question, Tony?”
“Are you aware of this development, Mr. Cochran? And what, if anything will you do to ensure an uninterrupted supply of beans to your Bright Cup Cafés? A shortage of coffee beans could leave you without product to sell.”
The murmurs grew louder.
Perfect, thought Cochran. Absolutely perfect. He motioned with his hands for people to simmer down, then he calmly said, “Yes, Tony. We became aware of the situation in Brazil yesterday from our coffee buyer there. And earlier today, I spoke with him again by phone for an update. He was on site at the very plantation described in that newspaper. He told me that the entire coffee plantation was now engulfed with the fungus, and the Vice President of Sales for the coffee grower told him, quote, ‘Demand could easily outstrip supply.’” Murmuring briefly increased further, then settled down on its own. “To answer the second part of Tony’s question, first, I will point out that Bright Cup stockpiles a sixty day supply of green beans in the warehouses at our roasting plants, so we have that initial cushion to work with. Second, since we at Bright Cup cannot directly affect the production, or lack thereof, of coffee beans in Brazil, we took the only practical action that we could. Once I heard of this potential threat to our supply, I directed our staff to begin aggressively buying up additional arabica futures contracts and signing direct deals with suppliers, to lock in our supply of beans, at least to the extent that beans will continue to be available from Brazil. Bright Cup cannot do anything to stop such a destructive organism, but we have protected our supply interests to the fullest degree possible. I personally guarantee you folks, and our loyal customers, that if a coffee bean shortage does occur, Bright Cup will be the last national chain of coffee specialty shops to run out of beans.”
A flurry of hands shot up among the attendees, and Cochran spent the next 15 minutes answering questions and moderating debate between the attendees about the implications. One financial analyst said that she had heard something about a spike in arabica futures prices at the IntercontinentalExchange but she hadn’t had time to talk to anyone there before the press conference. Goterrez even chimed in at a few points, translating aloud portions of the newspaper article.
Finally, Cochran called a halt to the barrage. “Folks, I’ve just gotten a signal from the hotel management that we are way over our allotted time. We’ve got to clear out of the room for another group coming in.” He didn't mention that the next group coming in merely consisted of workers whose task was to disassemble the special stage that had been designed and built for the presentation. “But once again, on behalf of myself and the entire staff of Bright Cup Incorporated, thank you for coming. The auto-transcript, video, and PowerPoint files will be posted on our web site by the time you get back to your offices. And don’t forget the bags of freshly roasted Primo Cup beans for you by the exits.”
Attendees gathered up their gear, then gradually shuffled towards the doors.
Hank Ridley sidled up to Goterrez. “Excuse me, Tony. Got a second?”
“Sure. You’re Ridley from BW, right?”
Ridley nodded and pulled Goterrez out of the flow of moving people. “Where do you get a São Paulo newspaper in San Fran?”
“I suppose you could get one at Fog City News on Market Street?”
“You suppose?”
“Well, yeah, you could probably get one there.”
“But that isn’t where you got that one?”
Goterrez shook his head. “Just before this press conference started, I was coming out of the men’s room, and these two waiters were headed in, speaking Portuguese. They were talking about the headline in the newspaper. I asked one of them, in Portuguese, to please show me the paper. He fetched it from the kitchen.” Goterrez motioned to an embroidered red curtain, behind which a waitress was carrying away a tray of glasses . “I asked him if I could borrow it to make a copy, and he said I could just keep it. ‘Yesterday’s news,’ he said, ‘It’s just fish wrapper now.’”
“Which waiter was it?”
Goterrez scanned the room, then pointed. “That one there. The tall guy with the dark-rimmed eyeglasses.”
“Thanks, Tony. See you around.”
Ridley spoke into his iPhone, “Does Fog City News carry The São Paulo Journal?”
The phone beeped twice, and the computerized Siri voice responded, “One moment...,” then a few seconds later, “I’m not certain. Would you like me to dial the shop so you can check availability?”
When he ended the call, Ridley headed straight for the waiter. “Excuse me,” he said to the tall man.
“Yes, sir. What can I get for you?” the waiter asked with an accent that Ridley would not have identified had he not just had his previous conversation with Goterrez.
“How about a São Paulo newspaper?”
“Sorry, sir. I already gave away the one I had.”
“Where’d you get it?” The waiter stiffened up noticeably. Ridley reached a hand into a pocket, then discreetly showed the man a $20 bill.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t remember. You can probably get one at Fog City News on Market Street.”
“Funny thing is, I just called them. They don’t get South American newspapers until three days after publication. That one was from yesterday.” Ridley reached back into his pocket, then discreetly showed about half a dozen $20 bills. “Or would you prefer that I ask your supervisor about the matter...” Carrot and stick, Ridley thought. The waiter made a subtle motion with his hand. Ridley rolled the bills tightly, then swiftly pressed the bunch into the man’s hand.
The waiter leaned in close and spoke in a low voice, “The small man who was on stage at the beginning of the show, the one with the Indian name, he gave it to me to give to the guy with the big moustache. He told me the guy speaks Portuguese.” Then the waiter quickly dashed off behind the red curtain.
Ridley pondered why Parananda might have wanted Goterrez to get the newspaper, leading him to surmise, Something is fishy here in San Francisco Bay. A moment later another concern dawned on him. How the heck am I going to expense the money I just forked out to that waiter? I can’t tell my editors I paid for information. I’ll have to fish around for some unused restaurant meal stubs and taxicab receipts. A moment later, yet another concern dawned on him. What if the Brazilian coffee crop does get wiped out?
On his way out of the room, Ridley quickly glanced around, then grabbed two bags of coffee from the table. In the hallway, he opened them both to make sure they didn’t contain Habanero peppers.
