by Richard Bard
I jogged from one end of the room to the other. The pack bounced a little but not much. “Yep. I can handle it.”
He nodded. “You’ve got this.”
How he looked right then reminded me of a kitted-up hero from one of my video games. Besides the ball cap, fully loaded tactical vest and backpack, he had a pistol strapped to one thigh, a hunting knife on the other, and a determined expression that said nothing was going to stop him from completing his mission. The bulge of the mini in his cargo pocket reminded me there probably wasn’t anything that could stop him, my mind flashing to all the dangers he’d been through, and those that lay ahead for the two of us.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too, son. It’s you and me against the world. You up for it?”
I thought about Ellie and my other new friends. I held my hand up for a high five. “Nuttin’ to lose.”
Dad smiled and slapped my palm. “Nuttin’ to lose.”
In the heartbeat that followed, we both heard the chime from my tablet. I retrieved it from the dresser and woke it up. The notification indicated a Wi-Fi signal was in range. The network name was Franks. We looked at each other. The system wasn’t supposed to be working again until morning.
“Can you hack into his system?” Dad asked.
I glanced longingly at the broken Spider. That would have made it easy. “I’ll try.”
But by the time I opened a new screen, the signal was gone, as if it had connected automatically while booting up, and was quickly switched off by the user.
“He’s up to something,” Dad said. He removed his pack and vest and dumped them on the bed. “I’ll go check it out. You stay here.” He grabbed the door handle.
“Wait. As soon you open that door, Frank’s men will see you.”
Dad hesitated. He moved toward the window at the other side of the room.
“It’s too far down,” I said. “Besides, someone could still spot you.” It was dusk but darkness hadn’t completely fallen. I dropped my pack on the bed, grabbed my tablet, and stepped toward the door.
“Hold on. Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m small. Not a threat. Nobody will care.” I slipped outside before he could stop me, and closed the door behind me.
I went downstairs to the main landing. A shadow shifted behind the foliage but I ignored it. I sauntered into the bar. Nobody followed. A few women were gathered at one of the tables. They appeared to be attaching beads to some sort of ceremonial clothing, taking advantage of the bar’s lighting. It was the only structure in the village that had electricity. The conversation quieted when I entered, but otherwise they didn’t pay me much notice as I walked behind the empty bar and helped myself to a glass of milk. I made a show of it. When I finished, I took my dirty glass, pushed through the curtains into a hallway behind the bar, and set the glass on a side table. There was an exit at the other end, and three open doorways in between. Light streamed from one of them. As I edged close, I heard someone tapping on a keyboard. I was about to peek around the corner when the door opened at the end of the hall and my dad slipped in, silent as a cat burglar.
He glared at me, and held his hands to either side as if to ask, what the heck are you thinking? He must’ve used my showy exit from the room as a distraction to help him slip out the window. I guess he wasn’t about to let me out of his sight. That’s what dads do, right? Though a part of me wished he could’ve just trusted me. Either way, we were both here now. I gestured toward the open doorway and we both peeked inside.
Frank had his back to us. He wore a headset and was seated in front of a two-screen computer console. We had a full view of the screen on his right. It showed a satellite image encompassing the northwest region of Brazil, and from the overlaid border maps, I could tell the image was centered over Frank’s place, where an icon pulsed. It wasn’t that icon that set my mind racing, though. It was the six others converging on it from different directions. One seemed very close.
Frank spoke into his headset. “Don’t worry about it, Number Five. The bidding won’t start until you’re all here.”
Dad pulled his pistol and stepped into the room. His body was coiled to spring, and I felt the mini’s energy expanding from his pores as if trying to burst free. He said, “You lousy, backstabbing bastard.”
Frank spun around. His shock morphed quickly to anger. “Me? A backstabber? Coming from the man who single-handedly tried to end humanity?”
I followed Dad into the room. Frank snorted in my direction like I was little more than a cockroach. “Lugging your brat here in the middle o’ nowhere? Thinkin’ the two of you could make yourselves scarce out here? Blah!” His hand moved toward the keyboard, but Dad was on him so fast I could barely gauge his movements. He grabbed Frank’s wrist and whipped the big man and his rolling chair across the room, sending them crashing into a wall of lockers. The chair didn’t topple. As Frank tried to rise to his feet, Dad aimed the pistol at his face.
Frank’s eyes twitched, but I didn’t sense the kind of fear I would have expected from him. It was like he was holding back a snicker.
Dad must have sensed it, too. “Figuring I won’t shoot, Frank? Because it’ll alert your pal, Trumak? Good point.” Dad’s hands moved fast. An instant later the pistol was holstered, and Dad’s Bowie knife was pressed against Frank’s throat. Frank’s sneer vanished. He held his breath.
Dad motioned toward the computer. “Check it out, Alex.”
I moved to the workstation, and it was my turn to move fast. I couldn’t maneuver through a network at light speed like I could with the Spider, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fly faster than most people using a keyboard, especially since Frank had already logged in and I didn’t have to deal with security firewalls. There were a dozen or more tabs open, all linked to the darknet. My brain soaked up the data as I flipped from one screen to the next, scrolling through emails, chat-room messages, and a bunch of sites with information about Dad and his friends. And the increasing reward for their capture. I came across one that included images of me, and a mention that the government wanted to find me because of what I had stored in my head. There were rewards for my capture as well, though the reward was payable only if I was turned over alive. Dad, on the other hand, could be handed over alive or dead. If alive, the reward was nearly three million dollars now. If dead, the body had to be accompanied by a video of Dad’s head being sawed off. My stomach twisted just reading it, and my focus returned to the flashing icons on the satellite image.
I looked at my dad. “They know we’re here.”
“Who?”
I gulped. “Everyone.”
Chapter 7
FRANK DIDN’T BUDGE, for fear of my dad’s knife at his throat. His lips barely moved as he spoke. “Of course they know you’re here. Been getting calls about you since the moment you arrived. But it’s not me fault! You can blame yourself for that, and the bloody tracker you’ve been carrying around with you.”
“He’s right,” I said. “According to the chat room, the signal appeared shortly before we landed.”
“When I flicked on the plane’s GPS to confirm our location. So the tracker, wherever it is, must’ve grabbed on to the sat signal.”
“But what tracker? And who planted it?”
Dad shook his head. His eyes went flat in a way that suggested he knew who’d done it. “It doesn’t matter.” He turned his attention back to Frank. “And you were going to give them my head, is that it? Who’s coming? How many are there? How long before the first team arrives?”
“Well, uh—”
“How long!” The blade broke through a fold of skin on Frank’s thick neck, and a rivulet of blood slinked down his chest. But instead of grimacing, Frank looked past him and sneered.
“Dad!”
Trumak had appeared in the room like a wraith from the shadows. His bow was drawn fully back, and the long arrow was pointed at my chest. He stood like a statue, the bow unwavering, the tips
of his two fingers around the string the only thing separating my life from death.
“I wouldn’t test him,” Frank said. “His tribe used to lean toward cannibalism, and he’s eyeing you like a fifty-quid steak from a Covent Garden restaurant. Now hand over the knife, and drop the gun, or your boy dies.”
Dad stared at Trumak, and I knew his mind was speeding through options. The mini’s energy expanded to fill the room. Dad could do amazing things by tapping into it, but it took only a second for him to realize that preventing Trumak’s fingers from releasing the string wasn’t one of them. He stepped back slowly. “Take it easy,” he said, handing Frank the knife. He withdrew his pistol with two fingers and set it on the ground. He placed both hands in the air.
Frank brandished the knife like a pirate with a saber, slicing the air in a figure X. “This’ll work just fine for the video.” Using the thumb of his free hand, he wiped at the gash on his neck, then tasted the blood. “Kind of ironic that it’ll be your neck and not mine, don’t you think?”
Dad remained silent, his eyes on Trumak.
“Waiting for an opening, eh?” Frank asked. “I wouldn’t count on one.” After he uttered an unintelligible phrase, Trumak adjusted his aim, loosed the arrow, and drew a second one—this time aimed at my dad. He did it so fast, I barely had time to cry out from the sting on my earlobe where the first arrow nicked it. I cupped the wound with my hand and it became slick with blood. It wasn’t a bad cut. The tip had only grazed me, and a part of me wondered if that was just dumb luck or if Trumak’s aim was that good.
“Blood for blood,” Frank said, licking his thumb.
I wished then I knew how to use the mini’s energy like Dad did, so I could go after Trumak like a rampaging badger. Then again, my free hand was still resting on the keyboard. I settled for a more strategic way of helping, and made a quick entry while all the attention was on Dad.
Dad’s fists were clenched. He looked at me, but instead of seeing fear for my safety in his eyes, I saw confidence. I realized Trumak’s mistake. Dad had clocked the man’s speed and now knew how to compensate for it. “So is that your plan, Frank?” Dad asked. “To cut off my head on video so you can collect the bounty? Then sell my son?”
“That pretty much spells it out. Originally, once I realized who you were, I was more interested in handing you over alive. There’s a tidy sum that comes along with that, I’ll tell ya. But nooo, every bloody merc within striking distance will be here soon, thanks to some bastard who decided to publicize the link to the tracker you’re carrying. I imagine every single one of those bounty hunters would just as soon kill me if it meant they could grab you for themselves. So I’ll simply use your blade to do the honors before they arrive. Once it’s posted, me claim for the reward will be irrefutable.” He pointed at me. “As for your boy there, the mercs all asked about him but I played dumb. Swore on me mum’s grave you were alone. Of course if the nasty buggers knew I’d lied to ’em, they’d likely chop me into smaller pieces than I’m going to chop you. But no worries on that front, because Trumak here will haul your boy into the forest so nobody will be the wiser. Then once the dust settles, and all the bloodsucking interlopers clear out, we’ll work on handing him over to the highest bidder. Then I can wash me hands of the both of you, and use the money for a new face and a new identity of me own. You two are me ticket out of this hellhole.”
“You’re a son of a bitch, aren’t you, Frank? Been doing this sort of thing awhile, haven’t you? Maybe even as far back as when you first landed here with the treasure-hunting ‘young pups’ who mysteriously disappeared?”
Frank frowned. “You’re a cheeky bastard. But I guess there’s no harm in confirming the obvious to a dead man. They were spoiled rotten little runts, and you know what they gave me for the prize I found for them? Five percent. I did all the work, found a chest of gold they had no chance of locating without me, and all I got was five percent? It wasn’t right. So I offed ’em. So what? Bloody ingrates deserved it. Almost got nicked for it, too. Their father had money. Lots of it. And when he found out the coppers back home had the goods on me for an armed robbery back in London, he locked me in his sights. He came sniffin’ around with an entourage of tough boys, formal warrants, and the authorities from Rio. But I got word they were coming.” He smiled. “That’s why I married Mandu.”
“You’re really married?”
“Yep, and I showed ’em the docs to prove it. And since Brazilian extradition laws specifically exclude indigenous people and their families for all except murder—for which they had no proof at all—they couldn’t touch me. Of course, I couldn’t very well leave the country after that, not with the old man’s agents keeping an eye out, not to mention the Interpol warrant in the system for the robbery conviction. Plus, would you believe the old man offered a five-million-pound reward for anyone who could offer information leading to my conviction for killing his kids? Sad chance of that. The bodies have long since been digested by the jungle. But that wouldn’t keep some greedy wanker from trying to fabricate some proof. So I waited. Not months, but years. And finally the old goat died, and I was ready to get the hell out of this ruddy place. But even in death the bleedin’ old man had it in for me. He’d left a codicil in his will to make sure the reward would stand after he passed. Set the money aside in a trust, he did, praying I’d end up in a cold cell or worse. So I waited some more, and by the time I figured the risk was finally low enough to chance it, the bloody money from the chest had run out.
“I’ve been living ever since off what I make selling the belongings of all the fools like you who come searching for riches in the Lost City. Offin’ ’em is easy enough with Trumak’s help, and there’s never a body to be found to hint at foul play. It’s always blamed on the wilds of the rainforest, which serves to fuel the mysterious stories of the jungle that houses a city of gold. So folks keep coming. It keeps the bills paid, so to speak, and I’ve been able to save a tidy sum beyond that. But it’s hardly enough to start a new life that’ll allow me to live in the lap of luxury I so deserve. So I’ve been stuck here.” He grinned. “Until now.”
I waited for Dad to make his move. Trumak hadn’t taken his eyes off him.
Frank checked his watch. “The mercs will start arriving in less than an hour and a half and we’ve got some work to do before they get here. But first, hand it over.”
“Hand what over?”
“Don’t play daft with me, Jake Bronson. I know all about you and that alien artifact you stole.” He pointed at my dad’s bulging cargo pocket. “Hand it over, or should I have Trumak here whittle a bit more off your son?”
Dad looked my way. I suspected what was about to happen, so I casually depressed the ESCAPE key to undo what I’d activated earlier. Dad pulled out the mini. Frank’s eyes gleamed. My dad’s nostrils flared as he drew in the energy.
And then he was a blur.
It was like watching an action video at triple speed: Dad feinted to one side and Trumak loosed the arrow. Dad dodged it and charged the smaller man with enough force to lift him from his feet and bash his head against a filing cabinet. Trumak folded to the floor as Dad pivoted to rush Frank. Frank swung wildly with the knife. Dad struck the big man’s forearm aside, grabbed his wrist, and used a vicious double-handed counter twist to wrench Frank’s arm and send him crashing to the floor. The knife toppled free. Dad scooped it up and stalked forward with murder in his eyes. Frank clutched his shoulder. His face was stretched wide in pain and fear as he scooted backward.
“Please,” Frank pleaded. When his back hit the wall, he squeaked.
Dad didn’t slow. As he crouched down and cocked his arm back for a killing thrust, Frank’s skin drained of color.
“Wait!” I said.
Dad hesitated, but his body trembled from the effort of holding back.
“Dad, don’t do it. I know he deserves to die, but you can’t be the one to do it.”
His voice was low. “If not me, then who?”
> “The mercs.” I pointed at the screen. “I used his Skype camera to live-stream everything he said. I made sure the feed was connected to all six of the teams heading this way. Remember what he said about them chopping him into little pieces if they found out he lied to them? They saw it all. We’ll be gone before they arrive and they’ll be furious about it. Frank will get the blame.”
“That’s not good enough. Just turn away.”
“No, I won’t.” I was surprised at how important this had suddenly become to me. I knew he’d killed before. So had I. But a part of each of us had died because of it, and now that we were about to confront whoever, or whatever, was calling us into the jungle, it felt wrong. Very wrong. As if we were disrespecting something greater than us all. Self-defense was one thing, but this was murder, wasn’t it? I wasn’t certain of anything anymore, but something told me I had to stop him despite the threat to us.
Dad gnashed his teeth—and didn’t lower the knife. I glanced at Trumak. His breathing was steady but he was out cold. It gave me an idea. “Hold on, Dad. Please.”
I moved to Trumak’s body and retrieved the three green tranquilizer darts from the sheaf on his back. I plunged the first one deep into Trumak’s neck. His body twitched once, but that was it. He was still breathing.
I approached Frank cautiously. The big man’s eyes darted from me to Dad and back again. I felt a flash of anger from him, but he didn’t budge an inch when I jabbed the two remaining darts into his thigh. He flinched, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he teetered unconscious to the side.
“That will keep them out until long after the mercenaries arrive. Let them handle it.”
Dad’s rage settled a little. I could tell he still wasn’t sold on my idea, but he sheathed the knife and picked up his pistol. “Let’s go.”
“Hang on. One last thing.” I retrieved a thumb drive from the computer. “I recorded it all, including Frank’s confession about the couple he killed.”
