~ ~ ~
Drake poked his head out of the tent as the sun climbed into the sky and spotted Joe chatting with Dick and Harry, whose green complexions spoke volumes about the aftereffects of inhaling a drug cocktail. The pair moved far slower than they had the prior day, whereas Joe’s gestures and voice were animated and crisp. In spite of being at least double their age, Joe couldn’t have looked better if he’d just gotten a massage and a facial.
Joe saw him and gave a cheery wave. “Yo! Youngblood. Time’s a-wasting.”
“Yeah. I see that,” Drake said as he stepped into the open. “You take another taste of the magic potion this morning?”
“See, that’s the kind of question that makes you seem like a small thinker. I was up before anyone, did my yoga, and ate. You’re mistaking being in touch with the world’s energy for something drugs can bring.”
“So you ate the roach?”
Joe offered an impish grin. “Waste not…”
“That’s what I thought.”
“How did it go?”
Drake eyed the two Shans. “You positive they don’t speak any English?”
“Look around, boy. Your secrets are safe.”
“We found the plane. Nobody was in it. Which is somewhat of a mystery.”
Joe nodded as though he’d expected the news. “Now what?”
“We continue in our search for the Emerald Buddha.”
“The what?” Joe finally registered surprise.
Drake ground his teeth – that was a stupid slip. “The ruins.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“I only got an hour or two of sleep. I don’t know what I’m saying,” Drake deflected.
“I heard you. First you mentioned anything about emeralds. Or a Buddha.”
“Can we just drop it? We’ll find the place and see what’s in it. End of story.”
“Little testy, aren’t we? You need a big shot of mellow-the-hell-out. So agro. Unbecoming in a youngster.”
“I really appreciate the life lessons, but maybe some other time? I feel like crap.”
Joe gave him a sly look. “I might have something that could pick you up.”
Drake gave him an incredulous stare.
Joe shrugged. “Hey. No biggie. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Regular corner drugstore, aren’t you?”
Joe smiled and moved back to Harry and Dick. Harry looked like he was about to vomit. Drake suddenly didn’t feel quite as bad, the Schadenfreude helping somewhat. He ducked back into the tent and almost collided with Allie.
“Oh. Sorry. Good morning,” Drake said.
“If you say so.”
“Ready to pack up and hit the road?”
“I suppose.”
Half an hour later they were filing through the jungle. Uncle Pete cleared the way with his machete, their good fortune in finding trails having fled when they’d left the camp. The way toward the valley was thick with vegetation, and the morning passed with slim progress as they hacked a path through the rain forest.
Lunch was a hushed affair while a cloudburst drizzled on them, offering a welcome cooling from the humid swelter. Joe and Uncle Pete consulted with Spencer on the best way to proceed, and by the time the rain abated, they’d agreed that Joe and Spencer would trade off leading the way for the afternoon, giving the little Thai’s tired arms a rest from wielding the machete.
After two hours, they arrived at a small clearing.
Allie pointed north. “There they are.”
In the near distance, two towering karst peaks, their rocky sides sheer as cliffs, rose into the azure sky from the surrounding jungle.
“The two sisters,” Drake said.
“And the valley between them.”
“My hunch is there isn’t going to be a Holiday Inn at the base, so let’s search for a spot to make camp once we’re in their shadow,” Spencer said, noting their position on his compass. “If we can find another game trail, we’ll be there in a few hours. Maybe even early enough to root around and locate our cave.”
They picked up their pace, inspired now that their objective was in sight, and were fortunate enough to find a swollen stream that led straight to the half-mile-wide gap between the two peaks. When they reached the entry to the valley, Drake’s watch read three thirty, so they had at least three solid hours of light to go before they’d need to pitch their tents.
Allie adjusted the worn straps on her backpack as they eyed the valley. “We’re looking for a cave. But after five hundred years, it might blend into the landscape or have caved in. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“You mean there isn’t going to be a big stone gate or something?” Drake asked innocently, and Allie smiled.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” she replied, and then they began methodically scanning their surroundings, Joe and Spencer taking turns with the binoculars Joe had brought.
After fifteen minutes, nobody had spotted anything. Spencer shrugged and unsheathed his machete. “Looks like we do this the hard way. Any preference on where we start?”
Allie pointed to the nearest of the two peaks. “Any cave is likely to be close to the base, so I’d suggest we begin at the bottom of the right one and work around it, then go across to the other.”
“Fair enough,” Spencer said, and headed into the brush.
Two hours later they’d been over the entire base, spread twenty feet apart in a sweeping pattern to ensure they didn’t miss anything. The sun was low in the afternoon sky, and its blistering glare had faded to a diffused glow. Ghostly tendrils of ground fog began drifting through the peaks as the air cooled with dusk’s approach.
Spencer called over to them. “I think we’re done for the day. Let’s find a decent place to camp, and we’ll finish this tomorrow.”
They made their way down to the steep bank of the stream and found a flat area behind a thicket of bamboo fifteen yards from the water. Uncle Pete busied himself setting up the tents with Drake and Spencer, and Allie excused herself to freshen up at the stream before it got completely dark. Drake was finishing up driving the final tent post into the ground when Allie came hurrying toward them from the stream.
“I think I found something,” she said breathlessly, her face shiny from the heat.
“What is it?” Drake asked. Spencer raised his head, and then he and Uncle Pete moved to join them.
“There’s an outcropping of rocks on the far bank that looks unusual. It could be a cave entrance.”
“I’ll get some flashlights,” Spencer said, and went to the tent to retrieve them. When he returned, he handed one to Allie, and they all set out down the stream to the suspect area.
Sixty yards down the bank from their camp, she stopped and pointed. “That’s it. What do you think?”
They stared across the water at a mound of rocks overgrown with vegetation, with another pile next to it that looked cleaner – as though the stones had been placed there.
“Could be. Definitely suspicious. Maybe we can get across around here?” Drake said, eyeing the rushing water.
Spencer shook his head. “Looks too deep. It’s wider by our camp. Let’s cross there, and we can work our way back along that side.”
They made their way back to the wider, shallower part of the stream and stepped across, the water rising to their knees. Once on the far bank, they made their slippery way toward the outcropping as the last of the sun’s rays surrendered to the blanket of fog settling over the valley. When they reached the rocks, Drake flicked on his rugged aluminum flashlight and moved to the fresher-looking pile of stones.
“It’s definitely not a natural formation. Someone stacked these here,” Drake said. “Allie, hold the flashlights for us. Spencer, give me a hand. Let’s see if we can budge a few of these and find out what’s behind them.”
Allie moved beside Drake and took his light, and the two men selected one of the smaller rocks at the top as Joe and the pair of Shans looked on. “Ready? On three. On
e. Two…three!” Drake exclaimed, and they both heaved. A vein bulged on Drake’s forehead as he strained. The stone shifted and tumbled down the face of the slope with a crash, and then settled in the mud by the side of the stream.
“There’s a space behind them,” Drake said, peering into the gap. “If we get a few more out of the way, we should be able to squeeze through.”
Spencer nodded. “This one looks like it could be dislodged relatively easily. Allie, hand me a light. I can use it for leverage.”
She gave one of the lamps to Drake, and he wedged it into a crevice between the two stones and pushed. The rock inched forward with a scrape. Spencer joined him, and together they got it free. It rolled down and joined its mate by the stream, creating an opening barely large enough for a child to squeeze through.
“If we shift this one too, that should do it,” Allie said, motioning to another medium-sized stone.
“You heard the lady. Third time’s a charm,” Spencer said, and they both wedged their lights behind the stone and rocked it back and forth until it gave. It dropped into the opening with a thud, creating an aperture twenty by thirty inches.
“That ought to do it,” Drake said, and then switched his lamp on and directed it into the opening. “You want to take it from here, Allie? You’re the expert.”
Allie took a final look at the twilight fog and the near-dark of the remaining visible sky, and crawled up the rocks into the space beyond. Drake went next, followed by Spencer. Joe contented himself with watching from outside while Harry scrambled through, leaving Dick with Joe.
The cave was narrow at the front and widened as it stretched deeper into the slope. Allie’s beam was transfixed on a carving near shoulder level – the unmistakable visage of a smiling Buddha with some stylized figures beneath it. She reached out and ran her fingers along the stone. “This is Khmer. It’s very distinctive,” she whispered.
“Then this…”
“Unless there are multiple caves between the ‘two guardians’ with Khmer carvings, I’d say this is our spot,” she said, and swung her beam toward the far chamber created by the cave’s irregular walls. She took a hesitant step, and then another.
Drake swept his light around them, alert for scorpions or snakes – caves being a favorite hiding place. Allie edged nearer the chamber as Spencer and Harry brought up the rear, and together they moved into the second area.
She stopped abruptly at the threshold, her breathing shallow. When she turned to face them, she was white as a sheet.
“Looks like we’re too late. But that’s the least of our problems.”
Chapter 39
Drake pushed by Allie and squinted into the recesses of the cave. There were more carvings on the rock face, matching the Khmer Buddha behind them, with alcoves cut into the stone walls and elaborate pictographs framing them – but any trace of treasure was gone. His beam hit something brown near the floor, and when he fixed the light on it, he understood Allie’s reaction.
At least twenty Kalashnikov AK-47 assault rifles lay in an open wooden crate, with several more containers of ammunition beside it, and a lump of material covered by a large camouflage tarp. Spencer approached it and lifted one edge of the fabric, then dropped it – he’d seen enough.
“It’s drug-refining equipment and another two crates of rifles. And at least a pallet of cellophane-wrapped blocks of white powder.” Spencer paused. “Looks like grave robbers got here a long time before we did, Allie. But I agree, we’ve got a bigger problem. These weapons look like they’re in good shape.” He leaned over and picked up one of the Kalashnikovs and ran a finger over the breech. “Oil. No rusting. So whoever owns them stashed them here relatively recently. And they’ll be back to collect their heroin, I’d bet. This must be a drop-off point. By the looks of it, a regularly used one.”
Drake’s eyes widened as he made the connection. “So this is a frequent stop for them. A lot of them. Because it would take more than a couple to get those stones back in place…”
“Correct. They’re too heavy for one or two people to manage, as we just saw,” Spencer agreed.
Allie blanched. “Which leaves us camped footsteps away from a major drug hub…”
“The owners of which will probably want to have a chat with whoever found their stash,” Drake finished for her.
“Maybe we can get out of here before anyone sees the displaced rocks,” Allie suggested hopefully.
Spencer nodded. “It’s night. These gangs know these jungles like their backyard. If they show up, they’ll be pretty annoyed and scour the area for whoever crashed their party before they can notify the authorities. Which means we need to make tracks. Now.” Spencer set the rifle back down. “Let’s load up a few of these and pray we don’t have to use them. Grab a handful of shells.”
“Give me a minute so I can take some pictures. Joe – you have the camera?” Allie called over her shoulder. Joe had packed a cheap digital camera in his bag, along with the binoculars, when they’d readied for their hike back in the village.
“Sure thing,” Joe’s voice answered from the cave opening, and a few moments later he arrived with it in his hand. He stopped short when he saw the crates and shook his head as he handed it to her. “Whoa. This is bad juju, kids.”
Drake nodded. “Yeah, we got that.”
“So where’s our treasure?”
“Looted a long time ago,” Allie said.
“Are you sure this is the right spot?” Joe asked.
Spencer grunted. “Look at the carvings on the walls. Khmer.” He sighed. “I’m afraid someone beat us to it. No telling when.”
“If this area belongs to the drug gangs, anything worth finding would have already been, and the gold melted down long ago or sold on the black market,” Drake said. “Sometimes you win, sometimes you get hit in the face with a brick. That’s how it goes.”
Joe eyed Uncle Pete. “I say we put some serious miles between us and this cave. We stick to the stream and avoid any trails – traffickers will use the trails. We don’t stop until we make it back to where we camped yesterday, even if it takes all night.”
Spencer nodded. “He’s right. Let’s fold up shop and get going.”
They crawled out of the cave to find themselves in another world – a white one with ten yards of visibility. Fog thick as cotton blanketed the valley. Drake led the way back to the stream, and he was getting ready to step into the water when he heard the distinctive sound of metal on metal somewhere behind them.
“Was that you?” he whispered to Spencer, ears straining in the fog.
Spencer shook his head, and Joe mouthed a ‘no.’ Uncle Pete and the two Shans looked spooked, telling Drake everything he needed to know.
“Move. Follow me,” Joe hissed. He pushed past Drake and stepped into the stream, taking care to do so silently. The rest of them followed a few yards behind. Spencer made it to the far bank and was turning to help Allie when Drake misstepped. His eyes saucered like a frantic deer’s, and he tumbled to the side and landed in the water with a splash and a grunt of pain. Everyone froze, and then they heard the pounding of running feet approaching from near the cave.
Drake forced himself to his feet and bolted for the shore as the rest pushed past him. He was scrambling up when a figure materialized out of the fog, an AK-47 clutched in his hands; but unlike Drake, looking like he more than knew how to use one. The gunman was swinging the assault rifle at them when Uncle Pete loosed a burst. The man’s chest exploded as rounds tore through him, and he fell face forward into the stream and dropped the gun.
Spencer screamed at Drake, “Move! Now, or you’re dead.”
Drake took off at a run as shouts from further upstream drifted through the heavy fog. They reached the camp and grabbed their backpacks as Spencer, Joe, and the Shans waited for the pursuers. The remaining gunmen had no way of knowing their prey had crossed to the other side of the stream, but they weren’t counting on it – and now that the traffickers knew they were ch
asing armed quarry, they would be as silent as they were deadly.
Drake could barely make out the stream from his position, and he thanked Providence for the fog – if it weren’t for that, they’d already be dead. Allie sidled up next to him and tapped his shoulder, pointing at a column of armed men who were creeping along the far bank. He nodded and crouched low, but one of the gunmen spotted them and cried out.
Rifle fire chattered and bullets whizzed through the surrounding vegetation. Joe and the Shans dropped flat beside where Uncle Pete and Spencer had dived for cover and returned fire, carefully squeezing off burst after controlled burst. They were rewarded with at least four of the attackers going down, but it was obvious neither time nor ammunition were on their side.
Another gunman emerged from the fog, and Uncle Pete’s rifle barked once. The gunman’s head exploded and he fell backward onto the bank, which was now littered with bodies.
Spencer rose and backed up, his weapon pointed at the stream as his feet felt their way, and whispered to Joe, “We’re making it too easy for them. We need to keep moving.”
“10-4, good buddy.” Joe leaned toward the pair of Shans and murmured to them. They nodded and stood.
“We go,” Uncle Pete said. More rounds shredded the leaves to their left at the sound of his voice, and he fired another burst at the stream as he scurried away.
“Follow me,” Joe whispered. He stood and ran, dodging between the bamboo and the trees, racing to put distance between them and the gunmen. Once they were away from the stream, the traffickers would still have the same issue as before – their advantage of superior numbers would be largely equalized by the fog and the dark of night.
They ran for five minutes, stopping occasionally to listen for sounds of pursuit, and then Joe veered right and they were back at the stream. He paused, listening, as the rest of them stood motionless. Spencer edged close to him.
“What do you think? Do we try to outrun them, or find high ground and settle this where we’d have an advantage?” Joe whispered.
Emerald Buddha (Drake Ramsey Book 2) Page 22
