What you’re here for isn’t the flower, exactly, or the story. I wonder what you’re thinking of the statue and the view, and whether or not you’ll linger on the terrace like I did, letting your imagination run away with you at the spectacular scenery. Of course, I wished it were a more private setting, where I could sit and ruminate without distraction and noise. One cannot always have what they want, however, so I made do with what I had. I have lived the majority of my life this way, you know. Making do.
But there is something you don’t know. There is something no one else knows.
I did not always make do.
I did not always live humbly, or chastely, or far below my means.
Let me deviate here a moment and say living that way is how I prefer to exist. I like the simple things, things that do not tie me to a place for longer than I want to be there.
It is no secret that I have met many people in my travels, some of whom I came to know very well. Like my Tibetan friend. Living here in Brazil on and off over the course of my life meant I made friends here, too. One of which I came to know because he hired me to scope out the best place to build him a vacation home. This man did not have the time I did to explore, to really suss out the idyllic spot in Rio. That is how I made a lot of my traveling money, you know. Finding perfect locations for businesses, homes, and other clients who needed intimate knowledge of an area they knew nothing about. It is splendid to get paid to do what I already love to do anyway.
I digress.
Back to the man who hired me to find the best plot of land for his vacation house.
I looked for three months (this was too many years ago to count, now) and finally discovered a bit of land overlooking Ipanema Beach. These few acres were settled into the base of a nearby foothill, with a staggering view of the shoreline.
My friend loved the location, bought the land, and proceeded to build a rather elaborate, expensive getaway home. He invited me over when it was done, and I could not believe the oasis he turned that plot of land into. It was well manicured without disturbing too much of the local plant life or trees, and the house itself commanded a majestic view that I found peaceful and relaxing.
For the following two years, every time I arrived back in Brazil, I got together with my friend, and we had drinks on his impressive terrace, wiling away the hours deep in conversation about life. He reminded me truthfully of my old friend in Tibet, and we became quite close during the remainder of our acquaintance.
Twenty-four months to the day after he moved into the house, my friend passed away. It was a sudden taking, without warning, and I was shocked to discover in the aftermath that my friend had left the house and land to me. He said I, more than anyone else he knew, deserved the tranquility.
For twenty years I alternately lived in and rented the house out, padding my income, which in turn allowed me to continue my one true passion—traveling.
I can hear the gasps now. How could Walcot keep such a jewel a secret? Why didn’t he tell anyone?
I suppose it’s because at times, I can be a bit eccentric, and the idea of leaving something worthwhile to my heirs appealed to me. The surprise of it appealed to me. I imagine you and your mother will be surprised indeed, considering the meager inheritance I bequeathed you both. There are legal papers for this house, too, which you will find when you get there. I have not rented the home out for the last year or so, finally retiring it from service.
Make your way there, Madalina. I encoded the address into the final e-mail I sent you before I departed this world. I knew you would keep it (and I did make alternate backup plans with your mother, just in case you didn’t).
Look for all the capitalized letters and numbers I added into the text. There is where you’ll find your next destination.
Enjoy it, Madalina. I would prefer that you keep the home, due to its originality and the unique space it occupies, but if you choose to sell it, then that’s your decision.
I think once you see the view, you’ll want to stay forever.
All my love,
Walcot
Madalina glanced up from the written text to Cole’s face. In that moment he’d been scanning the surroundings for danger, but brought his attention back to the page. He finished reading the final sentences and met her eyes.
“He left me a house. Apparently a very nice house,” she said, still somewhat taken aback. It was the last thing she’d expected.
“Yes. We need to head there straightaway, if you can decipher the address from that e-mail. I hope you kept it,” Cole replied, gently urging her away from the rail with a hand low at her back.
Madalina let him guide her toward the escalators this time; there were far fewer people descending to the trolley than there were ascending from the platform. “I did save it, just like he knew I would. It was our last correspondence. And something else I just realized—when we thought that he rented that other home? The one in the slums that a landlord might come and take over? He owns it, not rents it. In his will he left Mom and Dad a small place in Brazil—remember me mentioning that? It has to be the same place. I didn’t think so at first, but now it makes sense. He owned both homes, though why he left this one to me is baffling.”
“I can only conjecture, but I believe it has to do with the point he made about you being younger, with more time to explore. And also because you haven’t done much exploring, whereas your mother and father have. Either way, he’s a crafty planner, and renting this house was a good way for him to fund his endless travels. Plus, it’s probably worth a lot more now, what with the view he described. Ipanema Beach is growing and thriving.” Cole escorted her to the escalator and pressed close behind once she was safely on the moving steps.
Madalina folded the note, put it back into the envelope, and slid it into her pocket. Withdrawing her phone, she pulled up the last e-mail her grandfather had sent her. It was easy to find in her VIP digital mailbox. “You’re probably right. Mom and Dad are hardly at their house in Chino as it is. Why leave them another home that they won’t use any more than the other? Not that I plan to be here all the time, either.”
“Nothing wrong with a vacation house. I have a few in other countries, like I mentioned. It’s handy when you visit a lot,” he said.
Madalina twisted a look back and up over her shoulder. Cole had talked about his other homes in distant countries, though she hadn’t questioned him about them before now. They’d been busy settling into a solid relationship, and with work picking up, there hadn’t been time for excess travel. She was curious, though. Curious about his temporary life in foreign places. He’d been to Rio before, she knew, and had adapted to the change in scenery with calm control.
When he met her eyes, she said, “We’ll see when we get there. And maybe, one day, you’ll have time to show me one or two of your other houses.”
“I’d be happy to. That I get to travel all over is just one more perk of the job.” His attention shifted outward, forward, and back, scanning again for trouble.
“Do you get antsy when you have to stay in one place?” she asked, stepping off the escalator when it reached the bottom.
Cole guided her toward the line for the tram. “Sometimes. I don’t suffer wanderlust as bad as your grandfather, but I do enjoy moving around. If we were here under less strenuous conditions, I think you’d see the charm in discovering new cultures and lands.”
Just as she settled into a seat next to Cole, his cell phone rang.
“Thaddeus. It’ll have to wait. I don’t want to have that kind of conversation with too many people close by,” Cole said after checking the screen.
“Do you think it’s about Brandon?” she asked.
“It’s probably to do with what happened to us earlier. I let Thaddeus know someone attacked us. He’s been looking into possibilities, I’m sure.” Cole tucked the phone away, draped an arm across the back of h
er shoulders, and cast wary looks at the spare array of tourists taking seats on the tram.
Madalina surveyed the diverse collection of people riding down with them and hoped that there weren’t any assailants hiding in the mix.
Fighting their way off a tram on the side of a mountain wasn’t high on Madalina’s to-do list.
CHAPTER TEN
Brandon West couldn’t figure out why his neck hurt so much. Coming slowly into consciousness, he groaned and reached a hand up to knead the muscles atop his shoulder, prying his eyes open to squint at the far wall.
Why the hell was he slouched on a couch, looking at nothing?
With a sudden surge forward, as the fog cleared enough for a coherent thought, he spun on the sole of his foot, hands up in a defensive posture. Blinking away the last vestiges of what had to be a drug-induced stupor, he took in his surroundings: rich mahogany walls, plush couches and four overstuffed chairs, a square desk sitting before floor-to-ceiling windows, and bookcases stuffed to the gills with books. Three doors, all closed except one that led to a bathroom, offered possible routes of escape.
He remembered he wasn’t here of his own accord, but because the damned Chinese agents had cornered him in Cole’s house. The fuzzy details came back with increasing speed. He remembered a brief, groggy “conversation” with Cole before succumbing again to darkness. He’d been in and out of it all day.
Surprised to find that his captors hadn’t cuffed his hands, he went straight to a door—one he thought might lead to a hallway—after ascertaining that there was no one else in the office with him.
The door, of course, was locked. Taking care to be quiet, he tried the next door to no avail.
After that he walked to the windows, raking both hands back through his disheveled hair, and manipulated a lever to open the blinds. He had no idea what time it was or what view might greet him. What awaited was darkness. A lit parking lot sat below, numerous stories down, flanked by a low foothill covered in scrub. To the left were the glittering lights at the edge of a city, though what city exactly, he couldn’t be sure. Judging by the scrub on the foothill, he guessed the agents hadn’t taken him far. He might even be on the outskirts of Whittier, nestled against a foothill in a hotel or business center within close proximity to Cole’s house. There hadn’t been time to fly him to China, and it didn’t make sense in his mind for the agents to fly him anywhere else.
Examining what he could see of the terrain again, he finally turned from the windows and sought a clock, though none was present.
In short order he ransacked the office desk, looking for anything that would help him pick a lock. The drawers had nothing in them except three legal-size notepads.
No pens, no paper clips, no other office supplies.
He checked a side-table drawer as well, but found nothing other than a set of coasters. Of course, there was no phone, and his cell had been taken from his pocket, vanquishing any hope of calling Thaddeus or Cole or one of his other brothers for help. The agents wouldn’t be that sloppy.
Catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he noted several stark bruises on his jaw and cheek to go with the other aches and pains of battle. A wound on the back of his head had left a matted spot of blood in his hair.
The agents had been well trained in self-defense.
Removing what looked to be an authentic oil painting from the wall, Brandon pried the heavy gilt frame apart until he had one solid piece in his hand. He was tempted to kick the doors to find out if the locks held, but the racket would cause too much notice.
No, he’d wait against the wall near the main door and surprise the agents with a little Hank Aaron action the second they walked in.
At the base of the mountain, away from the lines of people waiting to take their turn to the peak, Cole guided Madalina into a shady patch that afforded them some privacy. Out of sight of the tourists, not quite back into the city grid, he dialed Thaddeus’s number and kept an eye on their surroundings.
Just because the ride down had been uneventful, it didn’t mean things would remain that way.
“I’ve been trying to contact—”
“I know,” Cole said, cutting Thaddeus off. “I couldn’t talk right then. What did you find out? Has Brandon made contact?”
“No, he hasn’t. I’ve been unable to find out anything regarding the people who came after you, too. Haven’t had access to local surveillance that shows me anything substantial, and if there’s chatter out there over the strike, it’s on venues we’re not monitoring. Could be men the agents hired to try and throw us off, and it could be an entirely different faction from God knows where. So, you’re going to have to watch your back while I keep investigating,” Thaddeus said.
Cole ground his molars together in frustration. “What about the people you sent over here to scout the house in the first place? Are they still around?”
“I sent them into the city while you were checking Walcot’s house. I figured if the agents were trying to keep tabs on you that the security would be a dead giveaway. We want the protection, but we certainly don’t want our guys leading the agents to you. It’s harder for our guys to blend in anyway. They’re not natives,” Thaddeus replied.
“Yeah, yeah. I can see that. I didn’t pick up a tail from the airport, either, so whoever this is, they’re good. They would have noticed our security right away. I might still need our team here, though, so don’t put them on a flight home just yet.”
“What’s going on?” Thaddeus asked. The sound of fingers on a keyboard tapped in the background.
“Now that our cover has been blown, I’m thinking we should have our guys shadow Madalina and me to our next destination,” Cole said. As much as he loathed the thought of being shadowed, Cole loathed the idea of sending Madalina running off alone again even more.
“I’ll get on it. Where are you going now? What’s the news on the object?”
“We’re following a lead; I won’t say where over the line. Just in case.” This was supposed to be a secure connection, Cole knew, but after the unexpected “company” earlier, he wasn’t taking any chances. “Have the security team use GPS to locate my phone and follow discreetly.”
“How close do you think you are to obtaining what we need?” Thaddeus asked.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s a bit like trying to find the Holy Grail. Just when we think we know where it is, it’s actually somewhere else. I’ll let you know if we locate it.” Cole scanned the street and part of a park. This area was void of foot traffic, and even the vehicular action was minimal.
“All right. Be careful,” Thaddeus said and rang off.
Cole turned his GPS on just as Madalina, who’d been checking her e-mail, slid her phone away.
“I’ve got it. I know the address.”
“Excellent. Let’s get a cab.” Cole curled his arm around Madalina’s waist and guided her into the sunlight. Following the curve of the street, intent on finding the busier thoroughfares where it would be easier to flag a ride, Cole remained vigilant of their surroundings.
“Everything has been so crazy that I haven’t had a chance to ask who you think came after us earlier,” Madalina said. Brisk, short steps allowed her to easily keep up with him.
“The obvious answer should be the agents; except, as I’m sure you saw, they didn’t exactly resemble our former attackers. Which leads me to think the agents hired someone to throw us off, or that it’s a whole new group who’s also trying to chase down the dragons.” Cole followed a winding sidewalk with a sloping hill to their immediate right, a street and buildings to the left.
“If it is a new group, do you have any idea who they are?” she asked.
“I really don’t know. During my years of research on the dragons, I didn’t come across any other random hunters. That doesn’t mean there weren’t people out there looking; it just means they kept a v
ery low profile. It’s a good bet that the Chinese agents hired the work out so we wouldn’t see them coming in a crowd,” he replied.
“I hear a ‘but’ in there.”
“If those men were sent by the agents, why? Obstructing us from doing what the agents asked us to do wouldn’t get them the dragons any faster. That’s my only drawback about the whole thing. Unless the agents instructed those men to detain us because they thought we found something in Walcot’s house,” he said.
“I understand what you mean. The agents might be jumping the gun, trying to grab the dragon before we can do something with it.”
“Yes, even though those men couldn’t have known we didn’t have the dragon when we left Walcot’s house,” he said.
“Precautionary measure?” she asked.
“Maybe. They tried to grab us, just in case.”
“What would that have meant for Brandon?”
“I’d like to believe it would have meant his release, but I can’t say for sure.” Cole brought Madalina to a halt and spun on a heel. He wasn’t sure what noise, exactly, made him pause and go tense, but something had. Behind them the S-shaped sidewalk was empty, at least the parts that were visible around the curves. A few bushes rustled in a gentle breeze, while cars whizzed past on the roadway opposite. No cars had pulled to the curb, either, making it difficult for him to pinpoint the sound.
“What is it?” Madalina asked.
“Nothing. There’s nothing back there.” He checked the sidewalk and road again, then turned back to continue on.
“What did you hear?”
“Probably the wind in the bushes or something.” Cole guided Madalina gently along with his hand under her elbow. The duffel bag swung against his flank, the strap digging into his shoulder. “We’ll stop up there ahead at the intersection and grab a taxi.” Cole estimated they were fifty yards or so from the cross street. A safer, more exposed place to grab a cab.
Rendezvous in Rio Page 9
