“It would be a shame to waste that,” she said.
I ran my hand down her side then over the front of her pants and discovered a precipitous amount of heat emanating from her lady parts.
“That too,” I said.
Before we could exchange another word, I heard footsteps and looked down the hall to see Professor Hot Sauce approaching, and, not too surprisingly, she had a rather stern look on her face.
“We have company,” I said.
Fabiana turned and smiled at her in spite of their rather adversarial relationship.
“Oh, hello, Alessandra,” she said.
“Hello, Fabiana.”
The two hugged and kissed each other on the cheek and put up a pretty amiable front.
“I imagine you two have work to do, so I’ll be going,” Fabiana said, giving me a final kiss before departing.
I watched her go, and my eyes fell upon her lovely backside, and every bounce in her step caused a little jolt of sexual electricity to course from my head to my manhood. When Fabiana at last disappeared from view, I turned to see that Alessandra was looking mildly annoyed.
“How was your night with Lars?” I asked.
“Wonderful as usual—and yours?”
“Wonderful as usual.”
“I imagine you probably want to talk about last night,” she said.
“I might have a few questions. Can we talk on the road? I have some errands to run and still haven’t eaten.”
“Perfect, let’s go.”
I went back inside and put on my shoulder holster then covered it up with a khaki button up shirt. I probably didn’t need to bring a gun to breakfast, but I wasn’t taking any more chances with the way things were going. We left the faculty housing building and saddled up in the FJ Cruiser and traveled about four blocks before parking and walking into a nice looking little restaurant called Lucinda’s that specialized in breakfast and lunch. It was crowded and therefore a popular place, but luck was on our side, and we managed to get a table for two almost immediately. Even better, we had a window seat with a commanding view of the street and entrance, which would allow me to keep an eye on everyone who passed by, entered, and left the restaurant—not that I was paranoid or anything. Soon thereafter, a lovely young waitress appeared with water and menus and asked if we wanted anything to start. We both chose coffee, and the girl disappeared and left us alone to browse the menu.
“Is the water safe here?” I asked.
“As in this restaurant or the entire country?”
“This restaurant.”
“Yes, it is, and I know for a fact that it’s filtered, but, even if it weren’t, it’s still pretty safe. As a whole, the entire country has pretty good water quality.”
“Good to know, as I’m not a big fan of diarrhea.”
“Who is?”
“Other than constipated people, I have no idea.”
The waitress returned with the coffee and asked if we were ready to order. Unsure what to choose, I left it in Alessandra’s hands, and she decided upon the typical Costa Rican breakfast of eggs, beans, rice and tortillas. With that out of the way we started into what I decided to call our silent period. It lasted two minutes and thirty-five seconds and ended when I finally spoke.
“So, I have some fairly serious issues to discuss.”
“Do any of them have to do with Lars?” she asked.
“Partially.”
“I see, and does it in any way have to do with the fact that I’m seeing him?”
“A bit, as some of the facts that have come to light are a little alarming.”
“Well, while we’re at it, I’d like to know what the hell you were doing spying on me from Lars’s parking garage.”
“It’s all related, and, just for the record, I wasn’t spying on you, which you should have already gathered from the fact that there were three other men there.”
“Fine. Let’s hear it.”
I described all that had occurred after Alessandra left the restaurant—namely how I ran into the frat-apes and finally got the story of what kind of drug we had encountered the other night. I, of course included the bizarre URL and the fact that the frat-apes had been given the drug by a very credible non-sketchy person who told them it was part of an off-the-books clinical trial. She looked legitimately confused, which I found reassuring, because the next part of the story was going to be where it started to get weird and connected, in a roundabout way, with her secret boyfriend.
“So, I went into the bathroom to pee and who do you think just happened to be there?”
“No idea.”
“Nate, from the Von Träger lab.”
“So?”
“So, you don’t find it coincidental that a guy from a pharmaceuticals lab was at a place where three frat-apes scored pharmaceutical grade narcotics?”
“No,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and ineffectual.
“Face it, he works for a place where they develop drugs and conduct clinical trials. What’s to keep them from doing some off-the-books stuff to see how a particular drug is going to pan out?”
“Trust me. Nate would never be a part of something illegal. He’s invested too much of his life, education, and career to risk it all on something as stupid as white collar drug dealing.”
“There’s more.”
I told her about how also saw Dr. Wainright at the same restaurant, and he was sitting in the corner wearing a half-assed disguise.
“He seems too uppity and British to be involved with a drug scheme.”
“Excuse me? He’s a biochemist working for a drug company.”
“Legal drugs that help people—not illegal drugs that allow people to take advantage of other people’s little sisters.”
“I think we both know that I was the victim in that scenario, but, more importantly, have you thought much about our unusual experience back at camp Chalupa?”
“Not really—why do you ask?”
“I think it was eerily similar to the encounter with your sister and Carina.”
“So, you think we were drugged?”
“Yeah.”
“But, by who? We were only with Ernesto, and he ate and drank everything we did.”
“Yeah, but Nate helped prepare the food. Maybe he dosed it with Sexstasy, and our digestive process delayed the reaction.”
“But then he would have drugged Ernesto as well.”
“True, but Ernesto would have been safely back at the lab and likely just having some very interesting dreams, or, worst case scenario, humping Nate’s leg. Either way, it doesn’t change what happened between us.”
Alessandra appeared to be seriously contemplating my theory, so I continued with the story by detailing Wainright’s very suspicious actions—first and foremost being his obvious attempt at counter surveillance.
“So, I followed Wainright from the bar, and he made four consecutive right turns.”
“So?”
“So, a guy with nothing to hide doesn’t do that, because it’s one of the ways you find out if you’re being followed.”
“Maybe he was lost,” she said.
“Yeah, and whenever I get lost, I just drive in a complete circle then continue on in the same direction in the hope that I’ll accidentally meet up with some friends in an empty parking garage, so that we can all discuss how some private investigator is potentially fucking up all of our plans.”
“I see your point,” Alessandra said, looking a little concerned.
“Yeah, and then Wainright met up with Nate and the Latin menace Hector Gomez.”
She then went from looking a little concerned to decidedly concerned, and I was hoping it was purely surprise rather than worry that I had uncovered something in which she might be an accomplice.
“Wait a minute. They met with the guy who accosted us in the alley?”
“Yep.”
“Seriously? You’re not just making this all up to screw with me?”
“No, and
while you thought I was spying on you, I was actually spying on them, and I overheard Hector say he was going to do whatever was needed to get me out of the way.”
“I can’t tell you how odd this all this sounds. These are people I’ve known for some time, and it just doesn’t make sense they would have anything to do with that thug Hector.”
“Well, the next part isn’t going to make you feel any better.”
Our waitress appeared with our food, and I waited until she left before I continued.
“So, after you started chucking oranges, they decided to leave, and our favorite thug drove directly across the street and met with your Lars-bear.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know, he totally could have walked, so he’s not only an asshole, he’s a lazy asshole.”
“This isn’t the time for your jokes,” she said, as she closed her eyes and audibly groaned.
“I find a little humor helps break the tension.”
“Not right now.”
She took a moment to think.
“So, the man who came up to the penthouse was Hector?”
“Yeah, how is it you never saw him?”
“It’s a large penthouse, and I was on the other side—obviously watching you.”
“And you’ve never seen him before our little exchange in the alley?”
“Of course not.”
“Then Lars has been doing a good job of keeping you out of the loop.”
She took some time to silently eat and think before looking over at me with real concern in her eyes.
“So, what do you think Lars is involved in here?”
“Likely the drug thing, though a billionaire doesn’t really need more money—least of all by illegal means, but the facts are the facts.”
“And what does this have to do with the missing UCLA team?”
“That’s the part I can’t figure out yet. What do a bunch of UCLA archaeologists have to do with a new illegal drug? All I can imagine is that they might have seen or discovered something up there that they shouldn’t have, and whoever or whatever kidnapped them did so to keep them quiet. The weird part, however, is that we still can’t explain the lack of evidence or Estelle’s frightening phone call.”
“Or what we experienced,” she added.
“There’s something that ties this all together—which is why I want to go back to Chalupa tonight and do a little more snooping.”
“That’s fine, but I’m going with you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why? Is it because you don’t trust me?”
“Honestly—yeah.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Well, I suppose I should clarify that it’s more about the fact that I don’t trust Lars, and as long as Lars holds sway over you, I can’t really trust you. ”
She sat there and stewed for a moment.
“Fine, what do I have to do to gain your trust?” she asked.
“Felatio?”
She kicked me in the shin and glared.
“Like you have anything left in your balls after last night,” she said, angrily.
“Who is to say anything happened? Maybe we just talked and ate butter cookies.”
“Yeah, out of her perfect supermodel ass.”
“I’m not going to dignify such a crass statement with a response, but I will say that my balls recover quickly, so they’re very likely topped off and ready to go.”
“Look, asshole. I’m coming with you—if for no other reason than to prove Lars is innocent.”
“OK, but tonight is a hundred percent covert. You can’t tell anyone where we’re going or what we’re up to, especially your little Lars-bear.”
“Don’t call him that. You make him sound like a child.”
“An insolent child in need of a spanking—unless of course he likes that sort of thing.”
“Shut up.”
“Fine, do we have a deal or not?”
“We have a deal,” she said.
“OK, but I’m still not clear on one thing. Did you agree to the felatio?”
“No.”
We finished breakfast, paid, and returned to my faculty apartment, where I had a very unusual call to place to Dean Donald Delaney. I had a lot of news, but most of it still didn’t make much sense, and I didn’t want to look like a jackass, so that meant I would leave some things out for the moment. I pulled out the satellite phone and dialed, and, after a series of clicks, it started ringing, then I heard him say hello and was surprised by the clarity of his voice.
“Hello, Donald. This phone is amazing. It sounds like you’re right here in the same room.”
“Satellite phones are really getting better, and it makes it really convenient for keeping in touch with our faculty when they’re running around the world.
“I bet.”
“So, how’s it going, Finn. Any news?”
“Yeah, but it’s complicated.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, since parting ways in Los Angeles, I’ve had quite a few adventures. The first being when I was attacked on the flight to Costa Rica. Then, after arriving, the same asshole brought a friend along and tried to kidnap me at gunpoint.”
“Oh my God. That’s terrible! What did he want?” he asked, sounding legitimately concerned.
“Not sure. Apparently his boss wanted to have a meeting with me. Needless to say, I didn’t go.”
“And do you think this has something to do with our missing people?”
“Yeah, as why else would they care about me?”
“Good point. Do you see this as a good or bad omen?”
It was a good question and one I hadn’t exactly pondered just yet.
“Actually, it’s good, because I think it means that your Team is still alive, and whoever has them is trying to keep me out of the picture for the moment.”
That was kind of an embellishment, but I wasn’t about to mention that the only evidence at the camp pointed at the existence of supernatural beings as the perpetrators of the kidnapping. Nor would I mention the fact that Alessandra and I had been chased by what appeared to be half-man, half-beast demon creatures. Donald was a man of science, after all, and he’d probably have me on a plane home if I mentioned such a ridiculous story. So, it made more sense to stick to things in the mortal plane of existence.
“Interesting, but I wonder who would stand to gain from kidnapping them? We haven’t gotten any ransom notes, and, even if we did, there really isn’t enough money in our department to come up with a worthwhile payment,” he said.
“Unfortunately, that’s what I’m still working on, but I have a few promising leads I’m following at the moment.”
“Anything worth mentioning?” he asked.
“Not quite yet, I’m afraid.”
Alessandra waved to get my attention.
“Tell Donald I say hi,” she said.
Instead of relaying the message, I hit the speakerphone button and held out the phone so that Alessandra could repeat her message.
“Hello, Professor Delaney!”
“Hello, Professor Hitzig! How are things?”
“Good, and busy as usual, though I’m really sorry about your team. Honestly, we are all baffled down here.”
“Well, thank you for your concern. It really is a shock to the department—or what’s left of it I should say.”
“I’m sure Finn and the authorities will find them.”
“Yes, I certainly hope so.”
He was quiet for a moment, probably feeling a bit emotional, considering the gravity of the situation.
“How are things on the board?” he asked.
“Same ol same ol, which means a lot of fundraising, and of course we’re busy verifying artifacts and acquiring new collections for the museum. Are you coming down anytime soon?” she asked.
“I hope so, but things are a bit hectic for obvious reasons.”
“Well, I look forward to
your visit.”
“Me too. Anything more to tell me, Finn?”
Alessandra was eyeing me tentatively, likely in agreement in not mentioning our experience up at the ruins.
“No, that’ll do it for now,” I said.
“OK then, we’ll talk later. Have a good day,” he said, before hanging up.
I hit the end button and looked at Alessandra.
“Alrighty then, we have some shopping to do. Are there any army surplus stores around?”
“Are you serious?”
“Well, I hate to quote myself, but I’m as serious as a boner at a waterfall.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Camouflage Won't Hide Your Feelings
IT HAD BEEN nearly twenty-two seconds since I asked Alessandra if San Jose had any army surplus stores, and she was still staring at me with the same questioning look. It didn’t seem like a particularly odd question, but perhaps she knew something I didn’t.
“Army surplus store. You know. The kind that sells army stuff,” I repeated.
“I understand what you said, but I find it hard to believe that you’re not at least partially familiar with Costa Rica’s history.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Then, I remembered the very obvious fact that Costa Rica didn’t maintain a standing army and had abolished it in 1949. So, if there wasn’t an army, then it made sense there wouldn’t be any army surplus stores—or so she believed. They might not have a military, but they did have police, a special forces division, and people into paintball and Airsoft, so there had to be someplace they all went to shop, and, worse case scenario, I suppose I could find something similar to what I needed at a sporting goods store. I therefore proceeded to do what all people in the modern age do and went online and found a place called Frederico’s Army Surplus. They carried all number of army clothing items including boots, hats, uniforms, and, as expected, paintball and Airsoft products. Perfecto! Now we just had to go do a little shopping, and we’d be ready for tonight’s reconnaissance mission.
The Chalupa Conundrum Page 35
