by Bill Craig
A young man stood at the door waiting, probably in his mid-thirties with unruly brown hair and clear blue eyes. His chin was covered with two-day old stubble. He was handsome enough in a square-jawed kind of way. He was no Clark Gable, but he was certainly easy on the eyes. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Is this the residence of Peabody Griffin?” the young man asked.
“It certainly is. Do you have an appointment with Mr. Griffin?” Glory asked.
“I do. Please, tell him that Jake Fortune is here per his request,” the young man told her.
“Jake Fortune?”
“Yes, do you have a problem with my name?”
“Not really, no. It just sounds like a pulp hero or a movie star,” Glory explained.
“I’m neither. I’m just an ex-soldier trying to make a living,” Fortune told her.
“Fair enough. Come in, and I’ll go fetch Mr. Griffin,” Glory told him. She pulled the door shut behind him and headed back along the hallway to locate her uncle. Fortune had piqued her interest, and she wondered exactly what her uncle wanted him for.
“Your niece is approaching, Sir,” Jeeves said.
“She is quite the young woman, isn’t she, Jeeves?” Peabody Griffin asked.
“She is, indeed, Sir,” Jeeves replied.
“That’s why I want her to lead this expedition. She has a marvelous mind and impeccable intuition,” Griffin sighed.
“Uncle Peabody?” Glory said, as she rapped on the frame of the open door.
“Yes, Glory?” her uncle asked, in a friendly voice.
“There is a young man here to see you, he says his name is Jake Fortune,” she explained.
“Ah, the young man whom Webber went to Chicago to solicit his services. Please, Glory, show him back to me right away!” Griffin told her with a smile. Glory rolled her eyes and headed back down the hallway. She felt a bit like a boomerang with all of the back and forth.
“Right away, Uncle,” Glory rolled her eyes. This was getting old. She really wanted to be on her way to Mexico to get the expedition started. However, she realized that there were many things that had to be done before they ever left the States.
Jake had enjoyed watching the sway of the young woman’s hips as she had walked away. He had a thing for beautiful redheads anyway, but this one appeared to be both pretty and smart. He wondered what her relationship with Peabody Griffin was. After he met with the man that wanted to hire him, he would have to make it a point to find out.
He whistled as he looked around. Griffin lived in some fancy digs all right. Suits of armor standing along the hallway, the furniture that he could see was leather and of high quality. The polished flooring was real marble. He shook his head, clearly amazed at the ways of the moneyed few. He heard the click of heels and looked up to see the red head hurrying back down the long hall towards him.
“Mr. Fortune? Mr. Griffin would like you to meet in his study. If you would follow me, please?” she asked, smiling.
“How could I refuse such a gracious invitation,” Fortune grinned, as he started after her, making sure to maintain enough distance to enjoy the view of those swaying hips and long bouncing red hair without being too obvious about it. Somehow, he had a feeling that she knew he was admiring the view and was putting as little extra into it for his benefit. He shook his head, as he walked.
The girl stopped in front of two large oak doors and reached up and knocked. A moment later the doors were opened by a manservant in full livery. “This way, please,” he invited.
“Well, I’ll take my leave and get back to work,” the redhead said with a smile.
“Mr. Griffin requests that you sit in, Miss,” Jeeves told her.
“Looks like you’re joining us, Miss . . .” Fortune let it trail off.
“Newkirk, Mr. Fortune. Professor Gloria Newkirk,” she told him, sounding somewhat irritated. He beamed again, glad to have dragged her name out of her, and enjoying how much it had pained her to give it to him.
“A pleasure to meet you, Professor,” Fortune said, giving her a wink. Her cheeks flushed red and she stalked into the room ahead of him. Fortune followed, chuckling softly.
Peabody Griffin was a stately looking man, ramrod straight with a full head of iron gray hair. Thick white eyebrows hovered over his bright blue eyes. He had a high forehead and a long patrician nose with prominent cheekbones that, as he had grown older, gave him a somewhat gaunt appearance.
He wore a dark red smoking jacket over a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar with no tie. He had an ivory cigarette holder clenched between even white teeth, a wisp of smoke curling from the end. It was evident that he had once been a powerful and athletic man in his youth, though the years and a life of leisure had softened him. Still, Fortune could tell, it would not do to underestimate him. Peabody Griffin was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.
“Mister Fortune, Webber spoke very highly of you when he returned from Chicago,” Griffin told him.
“You have a good man in Webber. He’s loyal, something that is becoming more uncommon these days,” Fortune replied, as he stepped forward and shook Griffin’s proffered hand.
“I see that you’ve met my niece, Glory. She is a true blessing to me,” Griffin smiled.
“I have to admit, Mr. Griffin, I’m intrigued by your offer of employment. But I really like to know what is expected of me before I take a job.”
“Understandable, Mr. Fortune.”
“Call me Jake, Sir. Mr. Fortune was my Father.”
“Certainly, Jake,” Griffin returned his smile.
“Now, what exactly is it that you want me to do?”
“How much do you know about Southern Mexico, Jake?”
“Not a lot. It is largely covered by jungle and swamps,” Fortune shrugged.
“Would you be surprised to learn that it was once part of an advanced civilization that got lost in the mists of time?” Griffin asked.
“I guess anything is possible,” Jake shrugged.
“I am mounting an expedition deep into the jungles of the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico in search of The Lost City. Specifically, the one with a certain temple dedicated to a particular god of the Mayan people,” Griffin explained.
“What has that got to do with me?” Fortune looked at him.
“I want you to provide security for this expedition, Jake. It is going into uncharted territory, and there will be many dangers. I want you to go along and keep the members of the expedition safe.”
“I can’t do that by myself,” Fortune shook his head.
“I’ll pay for you to hire the best men for the job. My Niece, Miss Newkirk here, will be the nominal head of the expedition. She’s in charge of everything but security. That is your bailiwick and yours alone,” Griffin said. Jake heard the sharp intake of breath from the redhead. She didn’t like that part, but that was okay with him. It would give him a chance to get to know her better, something that he really wanted to do.
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Sir. It will take me about a week to round up the men I want for the job. Some of them might not be easy to find,” Fortune told his new boss.
“I’ll spare no expense to have the right men for the job,” Griffin said, and Jake could tell that he meant it.
“Uncle!” Glory started in.
“No, Glory! If you wish to lead this expedition it will be under my rules. And Mr. Fortune is in charge of your safety. If you can’t agree to that, then I will find someone else and you can go back to work at the University,” Griffin told her firmly. Fortune and Griffin shook hands. “How much do you think that you’ll need to get the men you want?”
“Five thousand should do the trick. I’m not sure where they will all have to come in from,” Fortune said, honestly. He had purposely given a high number just to gage how serious Griffin’s offer really was.
“Give me a moment, Lad, and I’ll write you a check. You can take it to Chase Manhattan and they will honor it,” Griffin told h
im. Fortune was stunned. He stood there open-mouthed as Griffin reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a check ledger. Peabody Griffin opened it and filled out a check and signed it. He tore it out and handed it to Jake.
“I’ll start making inquiries right away, Mr. Griffin.”
“Let me know if there is anything else you might need. I’ll make sure that Jeeves knows that you can reach me at any time,” Griffin said dismissively. Fortune nodded and then turned and headed out the door with Gloria Newkirk close on his heels.
“That seems like an awful lot of money to track down a few old Army buddies,” She told him, as they moved down the hallway.
“Not all of them are in the United States. Some will have to fly in from overseas,” Fortune told her nonchalantly.
“I’m not sure that I trust you, Mr. Fortune,” Glory told him.
“I took your Uncle Griffin’s money, Miss Newkirk. I’ll do what he paid me to do. We had a name for it out west where I come from. You take a man’s money you ride for the brand, to the bitter end. Good or bad. I’m kind of old-fashioned that way.”
“I hope so, Mr. Fortune. I’m very protective where my Uncle Peabody is concerned.”
“You should be,” Fortune told her, before he slipped out the door. Glory looked at the closed door. She hoped that the young man was as good as his word. She headed back down the hall to have a talk with her uncle.
“I thank you for seeing me, Mr. King,” Eric Klausen said, as he put his hat on the table. He was dressed in a fine Italian suit and loafers. His raincoat was tailored on Seville Row. His close-cut blond hair lay smooth against his skull. He wore a monocle over his left eye. A fencing scar bisected the left side of his face.
“I found your offer . . . interesting, Herr Klausen. Peabody Griffin has long been an adversary of mine,” Hiram King admitted. King was a brutish looking man, bearing more resemblance to ape than human. He had thick black hair that covered a large portion of his body. His legs were short and bandy: his arms longer to the point where it only added to his apish appearance. He literally used his knuckles to propel himself around the suite of rooms that served as his residence.
“Are you willing to help us stop Peabody Griffin’s expedition?” Klausen asked.
“I am, but I want something in return, Herr Klausen,” King said.
“What is that?” Klausen asked him.
“I want the two emeralds that are said to be set into the eyes of the statue of Kukulkan. They are worth a great deal to me,” King said, eyeing the German’s face.
“Our Führer also would like to possess the emerald eyes of the statue,” Klausen replied, his expression bored.
“I am sure he would. However, I want them for my own purposes. Why should I help your Führer obtain them?” King asked.
“That is a very good question, Herr King.”
“And your answer is?” King looked into his eyes.
“We are here to serve your wishes,” Klausen told him.
“Then you won’t mind if I insert some of my own men into your group,” King said.
“Not at all,” Klausen said, through gritted teeth.
“Good. I will select my men and send them to meet with you. Don’t forget that they will be in daily contact with me during this mission,” King smiled. He looked like a hungry ape preparing to feast on a dead kill.
Klausen felt more than a little repulsed by the American that his superiors had sent him to. He didn’t like the man, and he trusted him even less. However, his superiors had said to give this man his full cooperation.
Chapter Eight
Hiram P. King sipped from his snifter of brandy. The German had left and he was now forming his own plans for the Eyes of Kukulkan. He had known that Griffin was going after them. It was far too easy to outguess Griffin. The man was nowhere near as intelligent as he presented himself. While his outward appearance didn’t show it, King was a chess master, often three to four steps of his opponent in any endeavor to which he applied himself. This one would be no different, although he would be playing against two opponents, Griffin, and the German, Klausen.
King picked up the handset of his telephone and dialed a special number. The man who answered was one of his many agents in the criminal underworld. He gave him quick instructions to follow the German, as well as to have Griffin’s penthouse watched and anyone who appeared there was to be followed. King hung up the phone and took another drink of brandy, allowing himself a small smile as he swallowed it.
Most people chose to underestimate him due to his brutish and nearly animalistic appearance. They had no clue as to the highly intelligent brain housed within his skull. It would just be a matter of time before the two emeralds would be his…
Eric Klausen was fighting his anger, as he made his way down Broadway. It appalled him to be forced to be subservient to that monkey of a man. Still, it was important that he maintain his cover as a mercenary.
While he had hinted at his political ties to the Fatherland, he had not revealed that he was, indeed, still an active member of the SS, as were all his men.
He would transmit his report back to Berlin, as soon as he was back in the apartment that he and some of his men shared. He wasn’t sure that Himmler would be pleased, in fact, he would bet that it would be the opposite. Still, he would await orders and then do the best he could to complete his mission.
Jake Fortune had opened a bottle of whiskey once he had returned to his hotel room. He sat down and placed an overseas call to England. He perked up as the call was connected. “Sam? Jake Fortune here,” he announced.
“Jake, how have you been, Cap?” Sam Morris asked.
“I’ve been doing okay. How would you like a chance to make some real money?” Fortune asked.
“I won’t turn it down,” Sam told him.
“I’ll have a ticket waiting for you at the London airport,” Fortune told him before hanging up. Then he dialed a number in Spain. Don Franklin answered.
“Hello?”
“Don, this is Captain Fortune. I’ve got a job if you’re interested.”
“Hell yes, I interested,” Franklin told him.
“I’ll have a ticket back to the States waiting at the airport,” Fortune told him.
“Swell,” Franklin said before hanging up.
Glory Newkirk sat across from her uncle. “I’m not sure I see the need for this Fortune character and his men,” she told him.
“You are going into uncharted territory, my Dear. You’ll be facing bandits of the basest sort, as well as natives that have never seen a white person. Not to mention, you’ll have to face whatever Hiram King puts in the field against you. Mr. Fortune and his team are a true necessity,” Griffin explained.
“Uncle…” she started again.
“Enough, Glory. I have the final say in this matter. You will obey Mr. Fortune and his security team on this expedition or you won’t be going,” Peabody Griffin told her, his mind made up.
“Yes, Uncle. But I want to go on record as saying I don’t like it even a little bit!”
“Duly noted. Then, go and call your people, get them ready to go. I have a steamer standing by to take you south to Mexico. You’ll be leaving, as soon as all of Mr. Fortune’s people arrive.” Griffin told her.
“I will, Uncle.”
“Good,” Griffin told her.
Mike Rogers was in the Big Apple when Fortune found him. “You want to get together for drinks?” Fortune asked.
“Sure thing, Cap. Where do you want to meet?” Rogers asked.
“How about the Stork Club? It’ll be nice to see how the other half lives. You got a suit?” Fortune asked him.
“Gotta couple of them.”
“Wear the nice one,” Fortune told him. They arranged to meet about 9 o’clock at the famous New York nightclub. Fortune headed for the bathroom to shower and shave.
The sun had set and the streets were still crowded as he left his hotel and stepped out onto the sidewalk. New York was a f
estive city, it always had been. But tonight, Fortune felt a heaviness, as he stepped to the curb to hail a taxi. There was something in the air, a sense of wrongness, of danger that he just couldn’t quite put his finger on.
The ride to the Stork Club passed without incident and Fortune paid the driver and gave him a sawbuck as a tip before closing the door. If he ever met that cabbie again, the guy would remember him and would drive to hell and back for him. That was something that could come in useful, if this feeling persisted. It was like he could feel unseen eyes watching him.
Mike Rogers was leaning against the wall near the door, looking natty in a gray pin-stripe suit. A gray fedora sat on his head at a rakish angle. “Captain Fortune, it has been way too long!” he said, clasping Fortune’s hand. Fortune pulled him forward into the kind of hug that was only shared by brothers in arms.
“Yes, it has, Mike. Let’s go in and get a drink and some food. I’ve got a job you might be interested in,” Fortune told him.
“Any kind of work sounds good. I’ve been thinking about re-enlisting if there is a chance to go up against that Hitler feller and his Nazi party,” Mike told him.
“If it is danger you’re looking for, Pal, I can oblige you,” Fortune told him.
“I’m listening,” Mike said.
Schmidt followed the two men into the club. He had followed the man called Fortune from the hotel. Inside, he located a telephone booth and dialed the number for Klausen’s room. Klausen answered. “Hello?”
“I followed him to the Stork Club. He is meeting with a man who he seems to know,” Schmidt said.
“Stay on him. He may be a problem for us down the road,” Klausen told him.
The music was good and loud, New Orleans jazz in a New York club. “So, what is the job, Cap?” Rogers asked, sipping at an icy cold gin martini.
