Ramsey's Gold (Drake Ramsey Book 1) (20 page)

“Fine. Get the guns. We’ll take our chances,” Drake said, the color rising in his cheeks.

Jack shook his head and glared at Drake. “Easy, huh?” He turned to Spencer. “Here’s my proposal. Find us the weapons. We’ll pay a reasonable amount. If you get them in a timely manner, we’ll consider telling you what you want to know. How much do you need up front?”

Spencer laughed. “Five grand. Cash. But I’ll tell you what. We can play a game. You can either give me the five now, and the price will be ten, or you can give me nothing, and when I have the weapons, the price will be twelve. Call it bridge building. You have to earn trust to get it. Your choice.”

Drake and Jack exchanged glances. “We’ll take the twelve. You sure you can have the weapons that quickly?” Jack asked.

Spencer stood. “I already have the AKs. They’re the most requested weapon down here. More punch than M4s – better stopping power, even if not as accurate. But in the jungle you won’t be sharpshooting, so an AK’s a solid choice. It’s the SIG Sauers that’ll take a little creativity. Very popular, but getting three on short notice in new condition without any paperwork…they’d normally go for more like a grand apiece through legit channels, but seeing as you probably don’t want to bother with reams of paperwork…”

Jack nodded. “That’s right.”

“Then it’s a deal. You have my number. Call me tomorrow. I’ll be around.”

With a parting glare for Drake, Spencer left, leaving Jack and Drake alone with their coffee. Jack finished his cup and sighed.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Should be obvious. I don’t like him. It feels like he’s playing us. Too slick. I feel like I need to check my wallet after talking to him for five minutes.”

“I don’t disagree. But perhaps he’s confident because he knows what he’s doing? You have to admit – ex-SEAL commands some respect.”

“If what he said was true.”

“I believe him. There’s a look. You get to know it. He’s got that look. And he recognized it in me the first time he saw me.”

Drake shook his head and frowned. “You can’t be seriously thinking about including him in this.”

“We need all the help we can get. Having a seasoned player to guide us could be a lifesaver. When your father and I went into the jungle, it wasn’t crawling with drug smugglers. But it is now, and without a guide that knows the ropes, this will be over before it starts. So I don’t think we can dismiss him so easily. Let’s see what he does with the weapons. If he performs, I say we tell him what we’re doing, and cut him in on a share. The only way a guy like that’s going to go all in is if he thinks he’s going to get a home run out of it. Otherwise he’ll just be hired help, and you’ll always be looking over your shoulder.”

“Of course, there’s nothing to stop him from killing all of us once we find the treasure.”

Jack eyed him with a small smile and stood. “I’m not so easy to kill. You can start with that.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Spencer answered his phone when Jack called the next day – a promising sign. They agreed to meet at a warehouse in the Comas district, on the northern edge of town, at 4:00 p.m. When the three of them piled into the taxi and told the driver the address, he looked at them with hesitation, then shrugged and flipped the meter on.

Allie had insisted on coming this time. She didn’t like being excluded, and had made a compelling argument that since she was part of the expedition – and the only one with archaeology training, she pointed out – she wanted a say in who they took on as a partner. Jack tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. Drake stayed out of the argument, although he didn’t like her joining them for the meeting any more than Jack did.

Drake had found a wide-brimmed hat for the jungle, and was wearing it in spite of the ribbing he’d taken from Allie when she’d seen him with it on.

“Wow. Are you making a low-budget remake of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
? What’s next? The whip?” she’d teased.

He’d ignored her taunts, figuring that he’d be glad for the protection it afforded from the sun.

The neighborhood degraded as they rolled over increasingly rough pavement. The downtown area storefronts transitioned to graffiti-covered eyesores with bars across the windows, razor wire circling the tops and rusting rebar jutting above the roofs. Groups of youths loitered on the corners, trash clogged the gutters, and Drake understood the driver’s reticence when they’d given him their destination. Eventually the buildings gave way to large industrial warehouses, many of unfinished gray cinderblock, and the streets became more ruts and potholes than asphalt.

They pulled up to the curb, uneven and cracked, in front of a particularly unfortunate structure that looked like a run-down prison.

The driver pointed at it. “
Numero ochenta-dos
,” he announced, doubt written across his face.

Jack checked the address and nodded, then fished out a wad of nuevo sols, the Peruvian currency, and peeled off several bills.

“
Es possible esperar?
” Jack tried, asking the man to wait for them. The driver shook his head and pulled a card from a holder on the dash.

“
Llame
,” he said, holding his hand to his ear, thumb and pinkie extended, as though calling on a phone.

Allie leaned forward and batted her lashes at the driver, a slight pout trembling her bottom lip. “
Por favor?
” she pleaded.

He shook his head. He wasn’t having any of it. Obviously, the neighborhood was one where any money to be had waiting was outweighed by the danger lurking in the long shadows.

They stepped out of the taxi and it roared away in a cloud of exhaust, leaving them on the sidewalk. A pool of noxious water nearby buzzed with a swarm of flies. Jack approached the black iron slab door and knocked.

“Let me do the talking, all right? Drake? We on the same page?” he asked.

Drake nodded. They’d discussed it before. He was not to say anything to ratchet up the tension – or the price.

The sound of a motor rumbled off the façades. An old American sedan crept along the deserted street and slowed as it neared them, fenders primered gray, a spiderweb of cracks glazing the windshield. Drake could make out four heads inside through the grimy glass. It was fifteen yards away and slowing when the building door swung open and Spencer’s voice echoed from inside.

“Better get in here. The natives aren’t very friendly.”

Allie stepped over the threshold first, followed by Drake. Jack remained outside until they’d entered, and then pulled the door closed behind them as the car pulled even with it. Spencer appeared out of the gloom and reached beside him. The thunk of the bolt sliding home boomed in the dark space like a gunshot. He flicked a switch. Fluorescent light sputtered to life above them, and they found themselves standing on the concrete floor of a windowless warehouse half-filled with wooden crates.

Spencer gestured to a utility table near the closest wall, where the weapons lay disassembled. They moved to the table, and Drake caught Spencer admiring Allie out of the corner of his eye. He bristled, then choked it down. This was business, and even if the man was a pig, they were there for a specific purpose, not to make new friends.

Spencer tapped one of the rifle stocks with a finger. “You know how to assemble one of these?” he asked, throwing Allie a smile.

Jack didn’t seem to notice, concentrating on the weapons. When Allie returned Spencer’s smile, rage swelled in Drake’s chest, but he focused on ignoring it. Allie could flirt with whoever she wanted. They weren’t married. They’d only held hands, and even that had been innocent. At least on her part.

“I think I remember,” Jack said, and inspected each part before expertly fitting the gun together. He nodded his approval. “Seems like it’s in good condition.”

“Lightly used by a little old lady on church visits only,” Spencer said, deadpan.

Jack repeated the process with the other two rifles and next turned his attention to the pistols. “These seem new.”

“Next best thing. Very few shots fired. You did specify you wanted nearly new.”

“I did. And I see they’re the .40-caliber versions, not the 9mm. They’ll do nicely.”

“What’s that?” Drake asked, pointing at a nearby bag.

“A couple of night vision scopes and a set of NVGs. I was surprised you didn’t ask for some, but I figured I might as well get them while I could. Might come in handy in the jungle. Sometimes the traffickers will be on the move at night, so that’s when shooting could happen.”

“I figured recharging them would be a problem,” Jack said. “We’ll probably be in there for weeks.”

“They should hold a charge for at least that long. Just don’t turn them on unless you need to. The new generation batteries will last for a while.”

“That’s good to know. Seems like you’ve thought of everything.”

“I aim to please. The ammo and the holsters are in that bag. Feel free to inspect them, too. Just don’t load any of the weapons. It’s hard to build trust if the three of you are holding loaded guns.”

“I presume you’re carrying a loaded gun,” Allie said. “What about that?”

“That’s my business, young lady, just as it will be your business once you’ve paid me for the hardware and we’ve concluded our transaction. Once you’re out of here, you can walk down the street waving your AK, for all I care. Until then, we play by my rules.”

Jack nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s take a look at what we’ve got.”

He dumped out the bag on a wooden crate and opened each box of .40-caliber Smith & Wesson shells and inspected them, and then did the same with the 7.62mm cartridges for the Kalashnikovs. Satisfied, he checked each of the magazines and withdrew a stack of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket, which he set on the table near Spencer.

“It’s all there. Feel free to count it,” Jack said.

Spencer picked up the cash and hefted it, then slipped it into his jacket. “Don’t need to. I can tell by the weight.” He gave Allie another appraising look and then indicated a green canvas duffel. “You can put the guns and ammo in that. My compliments. If you want the NV gear, that’ll be another five grand for the lot. Your choice.”

Jack thought about it briefly and then reached into his back pocket and withdrew a smaller wad of hundreds folded in half. He handed it to Spencer. “Five thousand. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise.”

Drake helped Jack stow the weapons and ammunition. When they straightened up, Jack faced Spencer.

“Have you got a cell phone I can use? We need to call for a ride.”

Spencer reached into his jacket pocket. He retrieved a small phone and held it up. “You have a number?”

Jack read off the card, and Spencer pushed the buttons and spoke in fluent, rapid-fire Spanish. When he was finished, he offered Jack the phone. “You can check the sent calls to verify I actually spoke to someone. It’ll show the duration of the call next to the number.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary. You’re going to wait with us till the cab arrives, right?” Allie asked.

“Normally I’d say no and send you on your way. But seeing as you asked so nicely, I’ll make an exception,” he said. “The driver said five minutes. Which gives you just about long enough to explain what you’re up to, so I can decide if I’m interested. My advice would be to talk fast.”

Jack fixed Spencer with a penetrating gaze. “Have you ever heard of Paititi?”

Spencer laughed. “Of course. Who around here hasn’t? The lost city. That’s what you’re trying to find?” He shook his head. “Good luck. There’s no such place. They’ve been looking for centuries. Guess what’s been found? Nothing. Nada. It’s a story. Nothing more.”

Drake cleared his throat. “Maybe. But my father spent his life researching it, and thought he was close to discovering it when he died.”

“Just because he thought he was onto something doesn’t make it so. What evidence do you have other than his feeling?” Spencer asked, his voice reasonable.

“He was killed to get the information. He took it to his grave,” Drake spat.

“Really? How do you know that?”

Jack told the story of the Russians. Spencer was in the middle of asking more questions when they heard a car pull up outside and honk.

“Let me think about this some. You have my number. Call me when you’re ready to make full disclosure. And be prepared to fill me in on everything. I’m not interested in getting involved in anything half-baked. Which is what most of the expeditions I’ve seen are. Every couple of years some academics show up, go into the jungle, and come back a month later, exhausted, beaten, and empty-handed. That’s of those that make it back. Quite a few don’t.”

Jack nodded. “In case you haven’t figured it out, we aren’t academics.”

Spencer gave Allie a final long look. “I can see that. Let’s talk later. Now get going before your car hightails it out of here. Taxis get nervous in this district. They won’t even come into it after dark.”

“What about you?” Allie asked.

“You worry about yourself. This is my turf. I know my way around.”

Jack carried the duffel through the door and the cabbie popped the trunk. He placed the bag inside and shut it, noticing that the driver didn’t offer to get out and help. Jack took the front passenger seat, Drake and Allie the rear, and their doors had barely shut when the driver accelerated, eager to get to safer turf.

Drake looked back at the anonymous building through the rear window. The last thing he saw was Spencer standing by the open door with an infuriating crooked smile on his face as he watched the taxi shoot down the street.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jack stowed the weapons in his room and met Drake and Allie downstairs in the bar, where their only company were two Argentine businessmen at the far end having an animated discussion in Spanish. Jack took a seat and ordered a soda, then sat back with his arms crossed.

“It’s decision time. Do we trust him, or do we keep looking?”

Allie frowned. “He came through on the guns. Just like he said he would.”

Drake shook his head. “A bad idea. He’s got something up his sleeve. And he’s way too arrogant.”