by Hep Aldridge
“Thank you, Dr. Burnett; let me give you my personal cell number, and my men and I will be waiting for your call tomorrow.”
I added the number to the sat phone and thanked him.
“Oh, by the way, this phone call never happened, and just in case you record your calls, it has been encrypted and will be nothing but static on the recording. Thank you, Chief.”
He laughed, “You are indeed thorough, Dr. Burnett, more than I would expect from a run-of-the-mill adventurer.”
“It’s Colt, Chief, and I’ve never considered myself to be run-of-the-mill.
Till tomorrow.”
As I walked back to join the group, I thought to myself, well, that’s that.
The game is afoot, Watson, the game is afoot…
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The trucks rolled out on time, as always. Once on the road, the lead cartel vehicle pulled in front of the second truck, and the two other SUVs fell in behind. Just another long drive, Juan thought, as he finished his burrito and turned up the radio. The lead truck carrying only wine was about a quarter of a mile ahead. They were making good time, heading for Avenida Ordonez Lazo, one of the main roads out of Cuenca. Juan was thinking about an upcoming soccer game as he passed through the intersection on a green light. He never saw the fully loaded dump truck as it ran the red light and hit him broadside at forty miles an hour.
The wine truck’s cargo area practically disintegrated from the impact. Barrels of wine flew through the air and burst open when they hit the pavement, as the truck big truck flipped on its side, spilling its contents of wine and cocaine in the middle of the intersection. The SUVs behind came to a screeching halt, and the men began jumping out.
The old Army Huey seemed to appear out of nowhere, dropping into the intersection to hover thirty feet over the carnage below. Rita stood in the open doorway, strapped in with a door gunner’s harness, and Uncle Harold manned its controls.
“Would you like a little music, dear?” came loud and clear over the Huey’s intercom.
“Of course,” Rita replied, “I always like a little music with my wine,” and the drum intro to the Rolling Stones’ Sympathy for the Devil filled the air, not only through her headset but through the large speakers mounted on the chopper’s skids, remnants of its Psy Ops missions in Viet Nam. When Mick Jagger belted out… “Please allow me to introduce myself…,” as if on cue, Rita opened up on the men below with the M-60 machine gun hung by its strap in the open door.
The lead SUV had backed up to the overturned truck, and the men were getting out and firing at the chopper. Uncle Harold rotated the chopper around and said over the Comm, “Another set of targets for you, my dear.”
“Why, thank you,” Rita said, hanging out of the open door by the straps, steadily raining death down on those below.
When the collision occurred, a van parked on the opposite side of the intersection disgorged a group of men with axes and sledgehammers. They immediately began breaking up barrels that had survived the crash, revealing the bladders of cocaine intact. The men from the SUVs saw this and began shooting at them, only to be hammered by Rita’s M-60.
Uncle Harold looked at his watch and then hit speed dial on his SAT phone. Colt answered on the first chirp, “Okay, Bucco, send in the cavalry; we’re about done here.”
“Roger that.” Colt quickly called Chief Gallegos, “You’re up, Chief; they’re all yours,” Colt said and hung up. He had given the Chief the intersection location an hour ago, and he and his men were staged two minutes away, awaiting his call. With sirens blaring and lights flashing, they headed to the intersection.
Uncle Harold said, “Okay, Rita, time to go.”
He started a steep climb, taking the Huey out of the intersection as Rita said, “I think we have sufficiently neutralized the enemy.”
She saw Rodrigo’s men with their hammers and axes, led by Muncho, piling back into the van and leaving the scene.
“We’re all clear,” Rita said as Harold banked and continued gaining altitude, headed away from the approaching police. Harold reached over and affectionately patted the dash of the chopper, where one of those magnetic spring hula girls jiggled next to the name “Rosalita” painted on the dash. He turned off the outside speakers as Rita joined him up front, smiling broadly. He turned, winked at her, and said, “I told you that you would have fun.”
When the police arrived, they found most of the cartel gunners dead or severely wounded. The barrels of wine with the cocaine in them were scattered everywhere and lying next to one of them was a piece of the truck box with the name Mendez Vineyards painted on it. They got to the remains of the cab of the dump truck that had caused the “accident,” and found the steering wheel had been tied in position with a piece of rope, and a concrete block was jammed against the accelerator. A nice piece of work, the chief thought as he surveyed the scene. His men began gathering the bodies and tending to the wounded cartel men. As the crowds started to form, he made a call on his cell phone. When it was answered, he said, “I have what I needed…thank you,” and hung up.
Colt smiled as he put the SAT phone back on the bench. He looked at the rest of the team and said, “We’re good.” Everyone smiled and let out a collective sigh of relief.
“Well, then, I guess we can head back to town now,” Doc said.
“Yep,” I replied, “all the excitement should be over by the time we get back.”
We said our good-byes to Tamara and the elders and were prepared to leave when Miguel approached us.
“Senor Burnett, what about me?” he asked.
“I think you should give it a couple of days and then head back to the city. I’m pretty sure you will find things have changed rather dramatically for the better. Any future threat to you or your family should be gone.”
“Si, Senor, thank you, thank you.”
With that, we left the village and headed down the jungle path.
We followed it for about an hour, putting us a reasonable distance from the village when I called a halt.
“Okay, guys, I think this is far enough.” Everyone stopped and looked at me expectantly as I slid up my sleeve, uncovering the bracelet Jeannie had given me.
“What’s that?” Dimitri asked.
“A present from our hostess,” I replied as I touched the stone, and the mist of a portal forming began appearing. I had envisioned the bend in the road about a quarter of a mile from Senor Mata’s farm.
“You got a portal device,” Joe blurted, “and didn’t tell us?”
“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and this has to remain a well-kept secret. It’s not something that will get used every day. Now, if you will please step into the mist, our journey to the Beast will be over.”
As I followed Reggie through and stepped out onto the road, the portal vanished behind us.
“Well, this should make traveling a little easier,” Doc said.
“This is to be used only when absolutely necessary and when no one can see us coming or going. Remember… magic.”
They all said they got it, and we headed to Senor Mata’s farm and our ride back into Cuenca.
Our drive back was uneventful and mostly spent in silent contemplation.
O’Reilly finally spoke up as we entered the outskirts of the city, “I think I’m going to miss all this, the excitement, mystery, discovery, and all.”
“I know what you mean,” Doc added, “our adrenaline has been ramped up at such a high level for so long, there may be a big crash ahead of us once we get back to the States and things return to normal.”
I looked at Doc and said, “Normal, Doc, do you really think anything is going to ever be normal in our lives ever again?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he answered, “maybe we can just slide into it; hell, I don’t know,” he retorted, slightly exasperated.
“Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you what Fitz and Gus said when I checked in with them,” O’Reilly said.
“Oh, yeah, how did the calls go?”
“Well, you were right about Fitz; he wasn’t happy with the abbreviated report I gave him. He wanted more but said if he had to, he would wait for the full debrief on our return.”
“Good, and Gus?”
“Gus said there was a bit of a problem in the legal proceedings regarding the galleon haul that you would have to deal with on your return. The recovery was still going well, and he had some good news to share with you once we got back.”
“Well, that sounds promising at least,” I said.
I looked at Doc again and said, “Normal, yeah, right.”
We all had a good laugh and finished our drive in silence.
Getting to our hotel and unpacking was a relief of sorts. We didn’t have a lot of dirty laundry, thanks to the Citadel’s bathhouse, and the shower felt a little antiquated without the additional zap of the blue energy, but it was refreshing nonetheless.
We met downstairs and headed to Diego’s for food and drink. When we arrived, there was a lot of hubbub going on, and all the televisions had news reports about the incredible crash and the subsequent discovery of the drugs in a shipment of Mendez wine. They also were showing the raid on his hacienda and him being led away in handcuffs. There was a video of Gallego’s men opening the trap door and the stash of drugs they found in the basement.
“It looks like Mendez is officially out of business,” Dimitri said with a chuckle.
“I do believe you’re right, and probably for a long time,” I said.
“Well, that’s certainly something to drink to,” Reggie said as the waitress approached our table.
“I had no idea what Uncle Harold had planned for his interdiction, but it certainly worked. A dump truck no less, not subtle, but effective,” I said.
Doug and Theresa weren’t around, but Paco stopped by our table and welcomed us back and informed us they would be in soon. Our two pitchers of margaritas arrived as we were talking, and I jovially added, “No worries, we’re going to be here for a while. He laughed and went back behind the bar. The place was pretty full, so everyone was busy. It looked like our covert infusion of cash was helping. While still having the feeling of local color, Doug had added a bit of class to the place.
We were just finishing our meal when the two owners arrived to handshakes and hugs all around. Doug and Theresa sat down at the table and wanted an update on our recent visit to the mountains. We told them we had found new ruins, but, unfortunately, they did not contain the library. Which was true; Jeannie had shown us where the ruins were located not too far from the Citadel; we just abbreviated the whole truth.
Doug asked, “So, what’s next?”
We explained our need to get back to the States to take care of our business there, and that would keep us away for a while, maybe a long while. But we were not ready to give up the search and the possibility of finding the library in the future.
He said he understood; many have left empty-handed but returned to continue their search at a later date. We kept straight faces as he said that because we were certainly not leaving empty-handed. We also told him that Eduardo had decided to stay in Tamara’s village but would be back to see everyone soon. He asked if Sean knew, and we told him no, we would stop by there tomorrow on our way out of town and tell him.
The discussion then turned to what was on the news and the Mendez arrest. We feigned disbelief but then acknowledged that you could never tell about some people. O’Reilly asked if they had heard anything about Tex, his helicopter crew chief. Doug said they had interviewed Tex and found him not to be involved in any way, so he was free to go.
I asked if he knew what would happen to the Mendez estate, and Doug said his assets had been seized, and if he were found guilty, all would be auctioned off at a later date. I thought about that for a few minutes, then leaned back in my chair, smiling.
Doc said, “Okay, Colt, I’ve seen that look before. What’s running through that devious mind of yours?”
“Devious,” I said, “how could you say that?”
“Because I know you too well; that’s how.”
I laughed and said, “Remember when we went there for dinner, and you complimented his wine?”
“Yes, I do; it was some of the best I’ve had.”
“So, he obviously has a legit wine operation with a quality product and people that know how to tend to the vineyards and produce the wine, right?”
“Yeaahh…” Doc drawled. “I think I know where this is heading.”
“If it’s sold to the wrong person, all those families that we saw there, all those people may be out of work.”
“True,” Doc said, now smiling himself.
“So, what if we put up the money to purchase it and keep it going as a winery? Lawrence could oversee operations as a remote CEO or something and work on setting up a distribution system to the States for the wine exports. But we would need to have someone on the ground here to oversee the day-to-day operations. Someone who knows something about running a business down here,” I said as I looked at Doug and Theresa.
I saw their eyes go wide when it dawned on them what I was thinking.
“Are you kidding?” Doug asked excitedly.
“Nope, not at all. What better way to keep those people employed, support the community, and build a new business? You would have to live in the hacienda and maybe turn it into a bed and breakfast. It’s plenty large enough, and there looks to be plenty of help there already.”
“What about this place?” Doug asked worriedly.
“Hey, there are two of you, and now you have Paco and his crew, so you could always build on that. I think Paco would make a great bar manager. Theresa is the new jefe and keeps an eye on things here. You take care of the wine with a good foreman and the right leadership—this could be a win-win for everyone. Plus, you could contract with Sean and his students to maintain your trucks, vehicles, and mechanical equipment.”
“And we could get free wine,” Doc added rather gleefully.
We would set up Risky Business as a parent company or whatever it needs to be and provide support when needed. “Just something to think about,” I said, “but you would have to stay on top of how things proceed down here legally.”
“True, and we don’t even know if it will come up for sale,” Theresa said.
“You let me worry about that,” I said, “that is if you’re willing to take on the challenge.”
Doug looked at Theresa, and she nodded. He turned to me and said, “Yes, we would be thrilled beyond words to take it on.”
“Great, then let’s close at least the concept of the deal with a drink.”
No champagne for this crew; the margaritas flowed like water the rest of the evening.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Our stop at Sean’s the next morning was a short and somewhat sad visit. He was concerned that Eduardo had decided to stay in the mountains but seemed greatly relieved when I assured him that Eduardo would be safe and that staying was his own choice. I think the young lady at the service counter that we had met earlier teared up when she heard the news, but they were both glad to hear that he had promised to come to visit. We left the Beast with Sean with our same arrangement. He would store it and take care of it till we returned, and he was excited to hear about the possibility of working with Doug if the winery deal went through, which I asked him to keep confidential at this point.
We took a cab from Sean’s place to the airport. I had made an executive decision. Since we were carrying numerous alien devices that I was pretty sure would raise red flags or set off alarms at the commercial terminal, I chartered a Gulfstream G500 for our trip home. I keep forgetting you can do stuff like that when you have money. Five people in a jet that seats 19, a little over the top, but I didn’t have that many choices, especially to fly non-stop to OIA.
Reggie, for now, stayed behind. I was sure we were going to be able to clear up her legal tangles in the States but hadn’t heard definit
ively. Not wanting to chance it, she said she would stay in Ecuador and help shepherd the winery deal with Doug and Theresa. I gave her access to our local bank account, which had plenty of money in it, for any expenses she might incur, and she seemed quite happy with that.
I also called Chief Gallegos and told him of my desire to purchase the Mendez estate and winery if it came up for auction as part of the legal proceedings against him—and that I wanted to keep all the people working there employed. He liked the idea very much and was sure a deal could be worked out. He also indicated that the judge assigned to his case was a law and order judge and hated drug dealers. He was fairly certain that Mendez wouldn’t be seeing anything but the inside of a prison cell for many years. Dangerous repercussions seemed unlikely since Mendez was widely reviled in the region.
I thanked him, gave him Reggie’s phone number, and told him she would be working as my agent on the deal. He said he would contact her and stay in touch. I thanked him again, to which he replied, “No, Senor Burnett, it is I who should thank you.” We ended the call, and I immediately called Uncle Harold.
He answered, and there was obviously a celebration going on from the background noises.
“That was a hell of a job you did,” I said.
“You liked that, did you?” he replied.
“Oh, hell, yeah, not sure what I expected, but a freakin’ dump truck, wow.”
“Hey, go big or go home. Got the job done, didn’t it? And evidence was spilled all over the intersection. The police should have no trouble making a case with that.”
“The chief assures me that Mendez is going down for a long time, so job well done. And what’s this I hear about a Huey? I thought you were a submariner.”
He laughed loudly and said, “What can I say? I’m just a renaissance man.”
