The Chalupa Conundrum

by Lyle Christie

  “You’re forgetting a key point. We hadn’t made the announcement yet, so he didn’t know about our findings,” Estelle said.

  “That’s true, but I suspect he got his information through Lars.”

  “How could Lars have known?” she asked.

  “Your billionaire benefactor has turned this entire valley into a laboratory, so it’s hardly surprising that he would have been monitoring your progress.”

  “That’s still circumstantial evidence,” Estelle countered.

  “No, the real answer is even more simple than that,” Thomas muttered.

  Everyone turned their attention to Thomas.

  “What do you mean?” Estelle asked.

  “I secretly emailed Donald a preliminary report,” he said, sheepishly.

  “When?”

  “Immediately after we made the discovery. I figured he should know,” Thomas said, looking guilty as he averted his gaze.

  “Don’t feel too bad, Thomas. There’s no way in hell you could have foreseen what was to come. Clearly, this is all about greed, and it will make a lot more sense when you hear the rest of the story. You see—your friend and mentor decided he wanted to retire in style, and, as an expert in all things Chalupan, he knew all about the Chalupa flower and its unusual effects. He’d even written a paper on it several years back. The problem, however, was that he needed a friend in the pharmaceutical industry to help him produce it, and that turned out to be Lars. After they conducted several off-the-books clinical trials, they were ready to go into production, but they wanted to be sure they had absolute control over their resources. Exclusivity meant they would be the only suppliers, which is important when you’re dealing with a billion dollar industry. That meant they needed the land, and what better way to disguise their motives than to do it all under the guise of a cultural heritage site? And everything would have probably worked out perfectly had your team not found that tablet.”

  “So, Donald, is what he said really true?” Thomas asked.

  Donald shrugged.

  “I’ve spent my entire career dedicated to academia, so now it’s my turn to enjoy the good life.”

  “As you can see, Thomas, money can change people, or I should say it changes weak people,” I said.

  “That’s enough, Finn! You need to stop prolonging the inevitable and give yourself up.”

  “Fuck off, Donald. We’re staying put until the cavalry arrives.”

  “Apparently, you need a show of force,” he said, as he pulled out a pistol.

  “I can’t believe you would do this. I’ve worked under you for the last six years. You were my graduate advisor and friend for Peet’s sake,” Thomas said.

  At that moment, Lars reappeared and joined Donald.

  “Now, what are we going to do, Donald. Thanks to Finn, they know too much.”

  Thomas was at his emotional wit’s end and spoke up.

  “Donald! How can you be a part of all this!” he asked angrily.

  Donald was quiet for a moment before speaking.

  “Well, the original plan was just to hold you all until the contract ran out, but now I’m afraid we need to reevaluate the situation.”

  “Meaning?” Thomas asked.”

  “Well, we’re talking about billions of dollars here, so I imagine we can come to some kind of financial agreement.”

  “Bullshit, they’re going to kill us all, but don’t worry, Thomas, as I’m not going to let that happen,” I responded.

  “Face it, Finn. The authorities aren’t coming. No one’s coming, so you might as well make it easier on everyone and come out now, so we can talk about this.”

  “No chance.”

  “Finn, be reasonable,” Donald pleaded.

  “Being reasonable means staying right where I am.”

  “Finn, I think he’s being sincere,” Thomas said.

  “I wish I could believe you, Thomas, but Dean Donald Delany is completely full of shit, so I’m staying right here.”

  “OK, that’s it—get out here now!” Donald said, angrily.

  “Why would I listen to you?” I asked.

  “Because I’m going to kill your girlfriend if you don’t,” he said, pointing the gun at Estelle’s head.

  “Ex-girlfriend, and if you pull that trigger, I can guarantee that you’ll be spending your retirement in hell—and, just for the record, the first bullet is going to your groin, so, when I shoot you in the head, your last thought will be that you’re a dickless asshole.”

  “Bold words from a man taking refuge in the confines of a sex altar.”

  “Donald! No! You can’t do this!” Thomas protested.

  “It’s OK, Thomas, as I can’t really think of a better place to make my last stand,” I said.

  “Be realistic, Finn! You can’t win, and everything will all go down a lot easier if you drop your weapon and come out.”

  “Seriously? What kind of asshole thinks a person would be willing to come out, so he can be killed more easily? Clearly, you assholes are out of touch with reality, but, don’t worry, as I’m going to officially pledge to bring you back to reality—though it’ll be a very painful and slow process. Speaking of which, Lars—isn’t it about time you took off that fucking mask and loincloth. Honestly, you don’t have the legs to pull off that outfit.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” I heard a familiar voice call out from just below the top rim of the pyramid.

  We all turned to look, and there, being led at gunpoint by a group of minions, were Lars and Alessandra. Sweet fucking unexpected plot twists! What the hell was going on here? I looked back and forth between faux King Chalupa and Lars, and my mind went into overdrive as I tried to reevaluate everything that had happened up until this point—and suddenly the final pieces of this mystery started to fall into place.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Pyramid Puttanesca

  THERE WAS INDEED a rat in Von Träger Pharmaceuticals, and, while it wasn’t Lars, it was, in fact, someone very close to him—someone who should have been obvious all along had he not been far too intelligent to get caught—yet, anyway. Still, there were more pieces to this puzzle, with the top three being how Hector, Wainright, and Nate fit into all this, so I therefore needed to keep the conversation going until I figured it all out or until help arrived—whichever came first.

  “Hello, Alessandra, Lars—what brings you two all the way up here?”

  “You, obviously. After I talked with Lars, we came out here hoping to find you and the UCLA team, so that he could explain what’s actually going on,” Alessandra said.

  “Well, you’re right on time, as Dean Donald Delany and his shitbag partner have already started the conversation,” I responded.

  “Wait, what are you doing here, Donald?” she asked.

  “He’s one of the bad guys, obviously,” I said, before he could answer.

  At that point, Lars was unable to contain himself any longer and stepped forward.

  “Seriously now—would someone please explain what the hell is going on?” he asked, sounding frustrated.

  “Well, Lars, I suppose I should start by introducing you to King Chalupa, or should I say, your half-brother Ernesto the Kissing Bandito.”

  It was now so obvious that Ernesto was our true bad guy, that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put it together sooner—least of all because he had kind of given it away when we first met. At the lab, I’d mentioned King Chalupa and his minions were one of our most likely culprits, and he had said that he couldn’t imagine a renowned archaeologist and a private investigator buying into that ridiculous legend. The problem, however, was that he had never been specifically told I was a private investigator. Alessandra had only said that I was overseeing the search for the missing UCLA team, so he clearly had already been informed of my details by Dean Donald Delaney. I really should have realized all this at the time, but Ernesto was so smooth that it went right in one ear and out the other.

  “Excuse me?” Lars said
, looking confused.

  “I said, I’d like to introduce you to your half-brother—Ernesto the…”

  “Yes, yes, I heard that part, but what do you mean by half-brother?” he asked.

  “It seems that your father loved Chalupa and it’s people, or, more specifically, its ladies—so much so in fact that he managed to get Ernesto’s mother pregnant. It’s funny—the first thing I noticed about both of you was your strikingly blue eyes—something you both share with your father—a little fact I picked up when I saw the painting of him in your living room. So, all these years it wasn’t just a man supporting his son’s friend—it was a man supporting his other son.”

  Ernesto slid his mask up onto his forehead and stepped forward.

  “Yes, very insightful, Finn, though I must admit that for the majority of my life I truly believed that my father was a Peace Corps volunteer. But, when my mother was only hours from passing away, she told me the truth, and I verified her claim with a DNA test. So, now that I know my birthright, I can finally take my rightful place in the Von Träger empire, though doing so means that you have all become a bit of a liability.”

  “Meaning?” Lars asked.

  “Meaning you all have to die,” Ernesto said, casually.

  Listening to Ernesto speak, I realized he did sound similar enough to his brother that muffling his voice while wearing the mask made it nearly impossible to tell the two apart.

  “Excuse me, but it’s going to be pretty difficult to make all of us disappear without a trace,” I said.

  “Well, sixteen of you are all still technically missing, so what’s a few more?” he asked, as he and Donald both chuckled.

  “Perhaps, but there’s no such thing as the perfect crime, and you’ve still got a lot of loose ends out there.”

  “Face it, Finn, we’ll have more than enough money to buy our way out of any future trouble that might arise.”

  “Ernesto, if this is simply about money, then we can come to some kind of resolution here. Face it, we’re brothers and we didn’t need a DNA test to know that. We’ve been close our entire lives, so I know you can’t possibly mean what you’re saying,” Lars said.

  I wasn’t actually sure if Lars was sincere or not, but, either way, he talked a good game. Unfortunately, it did nothing to change Ernesto’s mind—or the direness of our situation.

  “Nice try, brother, but I don’t need you anymore, and, when you’re out of the picture, I’ll make my DNA test public and take my rightful place as the sole heir to the Von Träger empire. I’ll have everything I could ever want and more, and when we start mass-producing Sexstasy, your meager billions will turn into trillions.”

  “And trillions into gazillions—and gazillions into bazillions?” I asked.

  Ernesto apparently didn’t think that was very funny and gave me an angry sneer, but, before he could follow it up with an angry retort, Lars spoke.

  “You would kill your only remaining relative?” he asked.

  “Of course, as I see you as nothing more than my last remaining obstacle.”

  I cleared my throat to get Ernesto’s attention.

  “Excuse me, Kissing Bandito. I don’t mean to interrupt the family reunion or anything, but I think you’re missing something here.”

  “Really, and what would that be?”

  “Well, you have a nice, though very revealing costume and some very cool faux evil minions, but I think you’re forgetting that I’ve got a gun, and I’m extremely capable of putting a bullet in you and Donald before your minions can kill me. Being dead kind of takes the joy out of being a bazillionaire, so, unless you’re actually bulletproof, you might want to rethink this evil plan of yours,” I said.

  “You make a very excellent point, Finn, but you too are missing something here. You see, while we’ve been talking, it’s been a ruse to give us enough time to get some of our men into better firing positions, and now, on that hill directly across from us, we have two extremely capable snipers.”

  “That’s an excellent bluff.”

  “Oh, it’s not a bluff.”

  Ernesto nodded at Donald, and he proceeded to pull a radio from his pocket.

  “We need a show of force. Take Finn out.”

  Assuming Ernesto was telling the truth, I was very likely fucked, and I instinctively dropped down a little lower, but the nearby hill would still have enough of a height advantage to make me a sitting duck. A moment passed, and there was no shot, so Donald got back on his radio.

  “Repeat—take Finn out.”

  Again there was no shot, and I was starting to wonder what the hell was going on. Perhaps their people were still en route or someone had taken out their snipers, and, if so, did that mean help had finally arrived? Suddenly, I heard the sound of footfalls and commotion coming from down lower on the pyramid, and, a second later, a voice came booming over a bullhorn.

  “You’re completely surrounded. Drop your weapons and place your hands on your heads,” a familiar sounding voice said.

  “It’s a ruse. Everyone hold your positions!” Donald yelled.

  “Sorry, Donald, but I believe the calvary has arrived.”

  “Impossible!” he shouted with the pained frustration of an insolent child.

  “Donald, we should fall back,” Ernesto said.

  Donald grabbed Estelle and pulled her close to his body as he and Ernesto backed away towards the rim of the pyramid. Suddenly, men in assault uniforms appeared on their flanks, and it caused the two to pause and gaze around in wild eyed panic.

  “Tell them to drop their weapons and let us pass or I’m going to kill her, Finn.”

  “Easy, Donald. There’s no need to add murder to your list of crimes.”

  “You give us safe passage out of here, and we’ll let her go once we’re free.”

  “Safe passage to where? There’s no place you can go that I won’t find you.”

  “Just do it or I swear to God I’ll kill her!”

  The person on the bullhorn repeated the order to surrender, and soon thereafter came the sound of guns being dropped onto stone. The army of evil minions apparently understood the futility of their situation and had acted accordingly. The same could not be said for Donald and Ernesto, who continued to use their human shield to inch towards the edge of the pyramid. Two more steps and the three of them would be on their way down the pyramid and out of range of my gun. I was pretty sure that the cavalry, whoever they were, had the area completely surrounded, which meant it would only take one stupid mistake, and Donald would put a bullet in Estelle’s head. That meant I had to try and keep them on top of the pyramid, where I could personally handle the situation, but my only useful tools at the moment were my words.

  “Donald! The minute you step over that edge, they are going to shoot you.”

  “Not as long as I have a hostage.”

  I needed a distraction, so I gazed off towards Donald’s right and pointed.

  “Holy shit! It’s the real King Chalupa!” I said.

  Donald responded with a patronizing smile.

  “Seriously, Finn? What am I? A five year old? You might as well have told me my shoelace is untied.”

  I glanced down at his shoes as I spoke.

  “Funny you should mention it, Donald, because your left shoe really is untied.”

  “That seems pretty unlikely considering I don’t have any laces.”

  Donald had apparently never taken a psychology class or trained in any kind of decent self-defense program, for, if he had, he might have realized that suggesting an idea was equally effective as evoking an actual physical response. Tell someone not to think about the color green and the first thing they did was think about the color green. In this instance, it was the mind I was trying to blind—not just the eyes, so that was why I had made such asinine comments. Of course, that was only part of what would determine the success of my silly ruse. The other was Estelle, but, thankfully, our time apart had done nothing to sever our deep connection, and she unde
rstood exactly where I was going. With the timing of an atomic clock, she acted in perfect harmony with my unspoken plan and elbowed Donald in the solar plexus then sipped out of reach, allowing me to pull the trigger. I aimed for Donald’s right shoulder, with the goal being to keep the fucker alive to atone for his sins. Unfortunately, having Estelle so near meant it was amongst the riskiest shots I’d ever taken in my life, but practice, timing, and training paid off, for the bullet struck its target. Donald jerked backward and cried out in pain as his pistol flew from his hand and landed a few feet away. Ernesto made a move for it, but I quickly closed the distance and kicked him in the solar plexus and sent him sprawling onto his back.

  “Back off, Bandito! Your days of ritualistic rape and serial kissing are over.”

  Ernesto slinked back and took up residence beside Donald, who was clutching at the wound on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Estelle raced over and wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my chest in a very public display of affection that I found mildly uncomfortable, considering Thomas was mere feet away. Oh well, gratitude was as good a reason as any for hugging an ex-boyfriend.

  “All’s well that ends well,” I said.

  At that moment, Wainright, Nate, Greaves, and Hector, who was still carrying the bullhorn, stepped up onto the top of the pyramid and joined our now greatly diminished Costa Rican stand-off.

  “Sorry we’re late, but we had to land the helicopter far enough away that you wouldn’t hear us coming,” Greaves said.

  “So, did Lars call you, or was it my distress email?” I asked.

  “Neither, as Lars’s phone lines are down, and I only checked my email after I got the call from Hector. As it turns out, your bad guy is a good guy, and you’ll be interested to learn that Wainright and Nate are the ones who you really need to thank, as they heard the radio chatter and gunshots and called in Hector, who, in turn, called me. After a brief and enlightening discussion about you, we realized we needed to get up here as fast as possible with the Rapid Response Unit.”

  The puzzle I thought I had already solved just got more complicated. I had been pretty sure that Hector, Wainright, and Nate were all working with the bad guy, but now that I knew none of my bad guys were actually bad guys—everything changed. Of course, this still left me a bit confused and desperately craving some additional enlightenment.