The Artifact: Natasha Burrows Series Book One

by Phillips, Michelle

  “Hang on!” he shouted, as the bike hit the first step with a thud. He continued jolting down the staircase at a fast pace. The two bikes followed behind.

  Above in the Barrios, one of the windows flew open, a lady yelling and cursing about the noise below. She grabbed a pot plant sitting on her windowsill and threw it at one of the riders, continuing to gesture and speaking fluently in Spanish.

  The pot hit his front wheel, unbalancing him and causing him to flip over the top of his bike. There was a sickening cracking sound as his bone broke. The man let out an unearthly scream that was loud enough to wake the dead.

  “Whoo-hoo,” shouted Xavier obviously exhilarated by the chase. “Two down, one to go.” The bike hit the last step and she thanked god silently that they were back on solid ground. They were in what looked like a cul de sac a hollow in the Barrios surrounded by houses stacked one upon the other heading back up the hill.

  Xavier started tooting on his horn loudly, he stood stationary for a moment, squealing his wheels on the pavement in a massive burnout. She started to cough as the smoke filled her lungs. Xavier continued shouting, yelping and drove past several doors kicking his foot against each one, beating on them. His shouting echoed through the cul de sac, mingled with the screams from the rider who had fallen.

  “Now” he growled “it is time we make our exit.” His performance over, he gunned the bike, heading off down the road.

  Men and adolescents started streaming out onto the street, like giant angry ants disturbed from their mound, determined to protect it, wielding instruments of death. Baseball bats, knives and some even carrying guns. The last rider was slower down the staircase, exciting as the crowd of residents had started milling on the street and Xavier was heading off down the road, clear of the angry mob.

  “Now, you will see what happens” he said. “This is called street justice.”

  The rider didn’t have a chance. There were only two exits, down the road where Xavier was heading or up the staircase which was blocked by the fallen rider. He tried to weave around one man, but others just got in the way. Frustrated and realising the imminent danger he was in, he raced the motor and tried to plough his way through them, and was met swiftly with a baseball bat, swung directly at his head.

  There was a sickening thud as he fell to the ground, followed by screaming as the angry mob milled in around him, calling for blood and ready to beat him to death. He had managed to run one of them down in his effort to escape, and they were calling for justice, street style.

  Tasha looked behind disturbed by the violent mob, she could feel the anger and hatred emanating from the gathered crowd.

  “What is going to happen to him?” she asked horrified, because frankly the crowd scared her.

  “He will be beaten to death, or close to it,” said Xavier matter of factly. “This whole area is gang territory. He’s on their turf and they protect their own. Should have thought twice before he took on the Bush Boss.”

  They continued back along the streets of the Barrios at breakneck speed, entering a tunnel which passed under a hill covered in houses squeezed together piled up haphazardly on on top of the other. The moment they entered the tunnel it instantly went dark like they were in another world. The lights of the tunnel flashed by at a dizzying speed. She realised he was heading back into Caracas and away from the Barrios.

  They were now heading back through the city, but nothing she saw looked familiar. She had no idea where she was going, but had no choice but to keep holding on tight. They arrived at a gated community, called the Avenida principal del Country Club. They were now very close to the mountains in Caracas that stood between the city and the Caribbean Sea. He wove through streets coming to a large two storey house.

  “Damn,” he said as he got off his bike touching his head “I lost my hat.” His hat had blown off ages ago during the chase. Tasha dismounted from the bike shakily, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, her legs shaking like jelly, and her hair more tousled than tame.

  “Where are we?” she asked confused.

  “My place.”

  “But I have a hotel room.”

  He looked sideways at her. “You won’t be needing to go there anytime soon.”

  “Why not? All my stuff is there, my suitcase…”

  “Judging by the looks of things, there will be nothing in that suitcase you will need.”

  She looked down and realised the split went all the way up her thigh to her hip. She clasped at the material trying to hold it together aware that his eyes were hungrily running up the entire length of her legs.

  “Tomorrow we are going to need to get you a wardrobe that can handle the Jungle. You can call the hotel and ask them to hold your bags for you. Where you will be going, you won’t need them.” He walked to the front door, opening it and entering a security code into a keypad inside. “Come on then” he motioned for her to come inside as the lights automatically switched on.

  The house was amazing. It was modern and light with cathedral ceilings and sheets of glass that ran floor to ceiling overlooking a pool in the courtyard behind and the mountains beyond that.

  “There is a guest room” he said looking at her taking in his home with awe. “What” he said “you didn’t think I could own a place like this?”

  She looked at him saying nothing, she had to admit, she didn’t think such a scruffy guy could live with such sophistication and style.

  “Don’t worry” he said “I bought it this way. The previous owner was the one with all the taste. You have no need to worry, you will be safe here.” he added noting she still looked a little uncomfortable.

  He took her to her room, a large guest bedroom with soft cream carpeted floor and a massive four poster bed.

  “There will be some clothes in that wardrobe over there that should fit you.” he said indicated to a large walk in robe along the side of the room. “My sister stays with me sometimes and she is around the same size as you.”

  She thanked him and closed the door behind him, locking it. She couldn’t believe in a matter of only hours of arriving in the country, she had almost been abducted, involved in a street chase, and now hauled up in a strange mans house. She was starting to regret her decision to leave her comfy hotel room complete with room service and a steam shower to die for.

  She entered the wardrobe, it ran the length of the entire room and had a gilded mirror at the end. There was a rectangular red leather seat along the middle over two metres long where you could sit to peruse and make your decision. She sat wearily not realising until now, once the adrenaline had worn off how tired she actually was. She looked at the rows of designer high heel shoes and fancy dresses hanging and decided to check in the drawers.

  What kind of woman are you? she thought rummaging through the drawers. One after my own heart, she decided seeing all the fancy designer lingerie and nighties. They were pretty, but not exactly practical. She found the least skimpy one she could find, a lacy number that at least covered her private bits and decided to settle into bed.

  There was a tapping on her door. “Who is it?” she called knowing exactly who it was.

  “It’s me, Xavier. I have some food if you want it.”

  She looked down at her belly which was starting to grumble from the mere mention of food. “Ok” she called “just leave it at the door, I’ll get it.” She tumbled out of the bed which sat so high off the floor it made it hard for her to even get out, and opened the door slowly, assuming he had left.

  “Scrambled eggs” he announced still holding the tray.

  “Oh” she said quickly trying to cover herself up.

  He laughed “Ah yes, my sister. She likes fancy things” he said greedily eyeing the peak of her nipples under the lacy cloth.

  “Your sister?” She eyed him with a look that indicated she wasn’t buying his story. Thanks” she said grabbing the tray and slamming the door shut. She felt frustrated again. Why did she feel like the guy was mentally undressing he
r every time she looked at him?

  Probably because he was she thought, he was a macho pig, probably used to getting his way with the women around here, especially with the money he appeared to have. She was pretty sure the wardrobe wasn’t there for his sister either.

  She gobbled down the scrambled eggs. She didn’t know what it was, but they were so good. She was grateful no-one was there to see her, as she ladled heaped spoonfuls into her mouth in an un dainty fashion, sating her hunger. She switched off the wrought iron and crystal bedside lamp and fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of being chased over and over again.

  She woke in the morning, the sun streaming through the sheer drapery covering the bedroom window, feeling a little more refreshed but still uneasy from the night before. They tell you not to eat just before you sleep, an old wives’ tale about feeding the nightmares. Probably that was true she thought, she couldn’t think of when she had had a more disturbed sleep.

  She hopped out of bed, heading to the ensuite to have a shower and freshen up. She exited the shower and walked straight into the wardrobe. They were side by side. It was practically every woman's dream. She looked through the clothes, keeping in mind what he said about dressing casual and picked out a pair of worn looking jeans, a T-shirt and some sneakers. She dressed, putting her hair up in a makeshift ponytail and dabbing a smidgen of lip gloss on her lips. She pursued herself in the mirror, for a thirty-year-old woman she wasn’t doing too badly she thought.

  She was tall and slender, the tight jeans hugging to her thighs showing off her well-toned curves. Her breasts were ample and pert, not too big but not too small either. All in all, she was pretty well put together, a far cry from her childhood days when she was the skinny bookworm everyone liked to tease.

  She met Xavier in the kitchen, where he was whipping up some French Toast and coffee. He appraised her outfit nodding with approval. She covered her mouth trying not to giggle out loud as she saw him in the kitchen, biceps bulging out from under his T-shirt, wearing an black apron that read ‘Baking Boss’ on the front.

  The aroma of his cooking was making her salivate. She picked up a piece of toast biting into it. It literally melted in her mouth.

  “Mmm” she involuntarily moaned a little as she ate it. “How on earth do you make toast taste so good?”

  He looked at her, eyebrows raised “Good huh?”

  She looked a little embarrassed “It’s great actually, where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “France” he said casually. “It’s called French Toast. I summered there a few years ago. I had an internship with a world class chef, I learnt a thing or two about cooking.”

  “What did you do to those eggs last night?” she asked “they were amazing.”

  He chuckled “Would you believe it, a drop of Tabasco sauce.”

  “Truly?” she asked her eyes widening.

  “Yes, that and a few other things, paprika, cheese, spring onion. They are called Creole scrambled eggs a blend of French and Spanish cuisine.”

  Slowly, she took a sip of the coffee, and made a groan that sounded like she was making love. He looked at her and chuckled.

  “That is Lavado Fino, the highest grade of coffee you can get here. The beans are freshly ground. It grows on the border with Colombia, it is the perfect mix of sweetness and acidity.”

  “Whatever it is, that is the best coffee I have ever tasted.”

  “I believe that” he said “I know exactly what a cup of old Joe tastes like; Come on, he said wiping his hands on his apron and taking it off. We have some shopping to do.”

  If she hadn’t remembered what a giant ass he was last night in the nightclub, she could have been fooled into thinking right now that he was the perfect guy. She left the house with him, eyeing the motorbike nervously.

  “Don’t worry” he said pulling a remote control out of his pocket “I have other forms of transportation.”

  His garage opened, and inside was housed a large SUV and a sports car. He motioned to the SUV and she clambered inside.

  “First, we need to get you some decent clothes whilst I grab some jungle supplies, and then we need to get your passport from the hotel. I’m assuming you left it in their safe?”

  She nodded, grateful she had the foresight to at least do this. So far, she had been completely impractical and putting rather mildly, stupid with her choices. She vowed from this point onwards that was going to change.

  He took her to a large shopping centre. She walked inside with him, noticing clouds gathering in the sky above. It looked like it was getting ready to pour, yet again. She looked through some camping and outdoor stores, and picked out some lightweight trekking clothes, making sure to select some full-length pants that were quick dry and some leech socks. She also selected a rain poncho and a breathable coat that had zippers under the arms. To top it off, she purchased some high-quality jungle boots and a good pair of sandals.

  She paid the woman at the checkout, waving to Xavier who was waiting outside.

  “That your man?” said the woman in passable English.

  “Ah, yes, well..” she struggled to answer the woman. She figured yes would be the quickest way to dismiss her.

  “Handsome one, isn’t he” she commented eyeing her like a hawk.

  “I… I guess so” she said looking at him, standing there with his charming boyishness on display. She noticed some of the women passing were making glances his way.

  “Better hold tight” she clenched her fists. “Lotta women around here looking for man like that. Maybe you better decide soon?” she said cannily, realising Tasha’s reluctance towards him.

  She smiled holding her tongue and thanking the woman, walking out of the store grumbling to herself. If only they knew what a pants man he was, a womanising dog then they wouldn’t be drooling all over him like a piece of steak at a weight loss camp.

  “You right?” he asked noticing the grimace on her face.

  “Yes, fine” she said trying to ignore his concerned face, his confused look only aided in making him look more endearing.

  “Ok” he said “We are all set, I got heaps of things for trekking, some lights and rope, food and torches, let's go get your passport and then it's off to the airport.”

  She stopped by the hotel, thinking how crazy it was that she only checked in there one night ago and she was already on her way off to Ciudad Bolivar. She was greeted by the same receptionist who recognised her immediately.

  “Ah Miss Natasha, good to see you again. I hope you are enjoying your stay?”

  “Yes, very much so, but unfortunately I need to check out. Can I store my baggage with you for a couple of weeks?”

  “Yes, we can do this, there is a small fee for the service.”

  “That’s fine,” she said nodding. “I’ll also need my passport.”

  He nodded going to retrieve her passport from the safe. “Oh, and I have this for you” he said, presenting her with a letter along with her passport. She looked at it, hesitantly, another one she thought recognising her uncle's writing. She thanked him and headed back to the SUV.

  She sat looking down at the letter in her hand wondering what her uncle had in store for her now.

  “What is it?” he queried his eyebrows raised.

  “Another letter, from Uncle” she said simply, turning it over to open it. She sat quietly reading it, as Xavier drove them to the airport.

  “It seems” she said when she had finished reading “that my Uncle in his infinite wisdom has decided to move on from Ciudad Bolivar, South to a small Yanomami village in the Amazon. He hitched a ride with a couple of guys from a small gold mining company that was heading out that way, to their concession.

  “Gold miners” spat Xavier.

  “What?” she looked at him innocently.

  “Half of those cowboys are operating out of there illegally, spreading disease, polluting the rivers and forests.”

  “I didn’t realise you were a conservationist” she s
aid looking at him with new interest.

  “You don’t have to be a conservationist to know what is happening to those people is plain wrong. The gold miners massacre them, and The Brazilian agency on indigenous affairs or Funai as they call themselves these days are like an old tiger with no teeth. The last lot of miners I heard about, chopped up their bodies and threw them into a river. Then they went to a bar in a near the border with Colombia, and bragged about the killings, said it was kill or be killed, and what does Funai do? They lodge a complaint with the prosecutor’s office in the state of Amazonas. A complaint!” He threw his hands in the air in disgust.

  “I guess it must be hard proving the deaths of people whose births are not registered, and have never been contacted. Let alone finding any evidence of the crime out there.” She didn’t intend on defending them, just more thinking out loud. She shuddered thinking of all the places you could hide a body in the jungle. She sure hoped Xavier, whom she had only known for a few hours was not one of those people. She hardly knew him yet she had already placed her life in his hands.

  “Hard, but worth it. They should be doing much more to protect these people. I envy their innocence, growing up oblivious to religion and technology. I wish I was one of them. Once you meet the Yanomami people, you will understand, some things are worth fighting for.”

  She looked out at the spectacular highway they were now on, winding its way through the picturesque mountains of the north, leading them towards the Maiquetia Airport. They were on the Caracas–La Guaira highway, a treacherous road that lead through the mountains from Caracas to the Caribbean coast. A feat of engineering, a huge four lane highway with two tunnels slicing through the mountainside which reaches up to almost 1000 metres in places. At its inauguration, it was considered an engineering masterpiece.

  He grabbed the car wheel jerking it sideways and speeding up dramatically.

  “Whoa” Tasha exclaimed. “Steady on there cowboy.”