Inca Kings (Matt Drake Book 15)

by David Leadbeater

  Drake didn’t follow. Mai sat as the woman offered the space beside her. “Bad luck may portend good fortune,” she said. “But you have to find it within the darkness.”

  “And you are good fortune?”

  “I don’t know,” Mai admitted. “Not to all.”

  Drake saw Smyth getting antsy, and guessed what the soldier was about to do. Impatient, he would stride in, boots and all, and achieve nothing. He rose, walked over and put a hand on Smyth’s chest.

  “Give her time.”

  “This is a waste of time.”

  “No, mate. It’s where we are right now. And where we’re meant to be.”

  Smyth made a bewildered noise. “Eh?”

  “He’s saying we don’t walk away from people in need,” Alicia spoke up. “And maybe, for once, he’s right.”

  “Thanks, love.” Drake turned back and smiled at Brynn. “We’re here,” he said. “And always happy to talk.”

  Brynn smiled back. “Maybe you are good luck after all.”

  Drake fought to keep the smile in place. Throughout the struggles of the last few years he could hardly describe the SPEAR team as a ‘good luck’ charm. A diplomatic man would say that bad shit and bad people happened everywhere.

  A cynic would say it followed them around.

  Matt Drake said they put themselves in the way of it, and tried to help good people out of bad situations.

  “How can we help?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Time passed and the day grew colder. Kinimaka broke out the supplies and handed food around. The villagers regarded them all with suspicion, though some of the braver ones—mostly the very young—approached with interest on sighting the snacks until their parents pulled them back. Drake sent smiles all around and wished he could at least part-communicate. The hand gestures he tried just didn’t work. The villagers kept their distance.

  The woman whom they had seen and heard crying grew quiet after a while, and they saw nothing of her. The deep silence that covered Kimbiri drilled down to their souls, filling them with wonder. The sky was huge and empty save for clouds; the hills and mountains free of human interference and fiercely individual.

  Brynn returned with a man and a woman in tow. The man was old and walked with a limp, the woman almost his age, still smiling at the people she passed despite clearly suppressing a hurt. With difficulty she faced Mai and Drake and offered them a smile.

  “We are pleased to meet you.”

  Mai looked between the man and woman. “We are soldiers and not blessed with manners. We are also looking for someone and short of time. If we can help you, please let us know.”

  Drake saw what he assumed were the heads of the village, both nod in time. Brynn would already have passed on the previous conversation. It made no sense to backtrack.

  “I am Emilio,” the man said, speaking through Brynn’s translation. “This is my wife, Clareta. We speak a little English, but it is easier to let Brynn speak for us now. You understand?”

  Mai nodded. “Of course.”

  “Until recently, we would not have spoken so openly to outsiders,” Brynn explained. “We are a village of the Andes and we happily keep our distance. Not because we have to. Do you understand that?”

  “I do,” Mai said, and Drake agreed.

  “But we have already broken our silence. We have already admitted we need help. That makes this easier and respectable and right. I know you understand. Two weeks ago we visited Cusco, and then again one week ago. Before that, twice more. I do not use the word desperate, but . . .” She looked away to the mountains as if seeking inspiration or courage.

  Mai sat unmoving. “Why visit Cusco?”

  “In the night they come. They snort and snuffle around our walls. They breathe noisily against our windows. They slaughter our livestock for fun and bathe in blood. They walk the dark streets of our village and mate and cry and cackle there . . .” Brynn held her breath for a moment, brimming with emotion. “And then they take one of us. Man or woman. They take one away and we never see them again.”

  “They?” Mai asked first. “Who are they?”

  Brynn’s face was ashen, her eyes terrified. “Monsters.”

  Drake gave the area an involuntary double-check. “When you say monsters?”

  Brynn shuddered. “I speak good English,” she said. “I know what I mean.”

  Drake thought about asking for a description, but saw how fearful the woman was and decided to return to that particular subject later. “And you went to Cusco for help to tackle the problem?”

  “Yes, of course! We swallowed our pride and our privacy and went to the city. It was after the second night that we reported it. They did not laugh at us; they did not suspect us. Instead, they did nothing at all. Four times we have journeyed there and four times they have ignored us. Now . . . last night they came again. What do we do?”

  Brynn’s last comment was an outburst of despair. Recognizing that, almost immediately she cleared her throat and pulled her coat tighter, looking away.

  “I am sorry,” she said.

  “You have no reason to be,” Mai said.

  Drake reined in the anger. “You reported each incident to the police and they did nothing?”

  “I do not know the Cusco police,” Brynn said. “Maybe they investigate. But we do not see them and every time we go it is same man. And they have no previous reports on file. It is as if . . . as if they do not care.”

  “How many people taken?” Kinimaka now came forward and knelt before Brynn.

  “Six.” Brynn forced out the word through a raw throat.

  “Over how long?”

  “Six weeks,” Brynn said. “And every night we fear.”

  “Do you have any clues,” Hayden asked, “where the monsters come from? Where they take your people?”

  “Most of us . . . most of us are so scared.” Brynn cried a little. “That . . . that we hide underneath our beds or cower in closets. Most of us . . . can’t take not knowing who they will come for next.”

  Mai didn’t hesitate, but laid a hand on Brynn’s shoulder. “There is no shame in being scared.”

  “Some of the men . . . they watch through high windows or the eaves. They see a little of what happens in the dark. They see naked, black-smeared, odd shapes. No features. They see monsters and even they are afraid.”

  “And they do not act?” Smyth said, for once careful to keep emotion out of his voice.

  “Not against so many. They count hundreds.”

  Drake was shocked. “That many?” He covered his confusion and a dozen questions by nodding at Mai.

  “And when they leave they go that way.” Brynn nodded straight at the mountains with their winding passes. “They take our people there and not one has returned.”

  Drake stared at Hayden. “You think the cops are paid off?”

  “Either that or criminally lazy.”

  Kinimaka added a new disquiet. “Are there other villages in the area?”

  Brynn nodded. “Nuno. Quillabiri.”

  “Do nightmares follow us around?” Yorgi asked. “We come here to find bad seller of Inca relics and find even worse. I do think we are cursed.”

  “Speak for yourself, Yogi,” Alicia said. “I broke my curse.”

  Mai didn’t react; concentrating all her focus on Brynn, she leaned over and took the woman’s hand whilst staring the village leaders right in the eyes.

  “If you want our help,” she said. “You have it.”

  Smyth groaned.

  Drake couldn’t help but wonder what kind of hell they’d just walked slap-bang into.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Splitting forces, especially when the coming night held such monstrous promise, was never a good idea, but Drake backed Hayden when she suggested it. The nearest village to Kimbiri—Nuno—was only a thirty-minute walk to the south and a potential target for some kind of raid tonight. They couldn’t be certain until they talked to the villagers and decided to l
eave four in Kimbiri and send three to Nuno.

  Hayden found herself wanting to walk alone whilst Drake and Alicia passed the time with a little harmless banter. This worked at first, but she knew almost immediately that she needed company. Her own thoughts were as dark and deep as mountains at night, and as confusing as their myriad passes. And just as dangerous.

  Why did she always destroy relationships? In the heat of battle, she’d told Mano how she felt, and in no uncertain terms, wrecking their bond, but it had been her simple desire for space that caused the outbursts. Not a fundamental need to be rid of the Hawaiian.

  For years now, he had been there. Every battle, every conversation; every goddamn bullet. At her side—a shadow. She feared now that she’d used his moral stance to push him away, citing that she knew better—for the good of the nation. Maybe she was right, maybe he was right; it didn’t matter. What mattered was how they both came out of it.

  As for Mano, she had no idea. She didn’t deserve to know where he was. And she still needed her own space, needed to find something. Trailing along these mountain roads inspired a much-needed sense of solitude, and she soon fancied that Drake and Alicia were leaving her alone on purpose. They knew a little of her relationship track record, which was not good. They didn’t know it all—which was better. Suffice to say, it was the same old story.

  More breakages than a boxful of kids’ toys.

  The cool air surrounded her, the vast mountain range standing still and ancient, one of earth’s extraordinary sanctuaries. One could say anything to these silent sentinels and never be judged. One could stare into their primeval, hushed immensity and, for a few moments, slough off every problem and worry you ever acquired.

  They walked for a while, Hayden twisting and turning through past and present and an odd kind of future where every single moment was a shard of uncertainty.

  “Cheer up, love,” Drake interrupted her. “Could be worse. You could be Alicia.”

  “Fuck off, Drakey.”

  Hayden smiled, thinking: How the hell do they do it? They both must have fears, worries, regrets. Compartmentalization worked to a certain point, yes. But it could hardly deal with the terrors they’d faced and put down, the personal ordeals they went through every week.

  It could be worse.

  Sure. It could. Of that she had no doubt. Of them all only Dahl had children. Only Dahl was married. Shit, that guy was fucking superhuman.

  And deserved better than his current lot. But who knew, maybe it would all come around. She saw they had been walking twenty minutes and looked ahead to where the village should be.

  “Just in the lee of that mountain?”

  “Yeah. Not quite where I’d put my village, but I guess there’s a reason.”

  “To keep the weather off?” Alicia speculated.

  “An avalanche would soon change all that.” Drake motioned at the snow high above.

  “Always an answer.”

  “It comes with intelligence and free thinking.”

  “Probably. But I’m sure Yorkshire was excluded when those options were offered.”

  Drake stared. “Who are you? Dahl?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Been around you lot too long.”

  The Yorkshireman laid a hand on her forearm. “And staying around.”

  Alicia offered a smile, their exchange something Hayden had once never thought possible. Alicia had always been so flighty, so intensely focused on the next horizon and the next job. Somehow, she’d found a kind of peace. And embraced it.

  Hayden sighed inwardly and spotted the jumbled huddle of homes up ahead. The trail dipped and then ran along flat ground for a while, green swathes to either side, before splitting among the houses and ending up against the mountain. Hayden had already seen young men watching them, and walked easily, steadily, offering no threat to these people.

  The villagers back in Kimbiri had told them that one of the elders spoke decent English and the younger people could get by, so they were reasonably confident their questions would be understood. They were not welcomed along the way, even when they started to pass among the houses. People stood around or rose from their work to watch the newcomers. Hooded eyes studied them and then met with the next pair. A scraping of digging tools made Hayden’s ears prick and sent her gaze to the right.

  Two men stood atop a short slope, holding a pitchfork and a spade.

  Drake nodded at the nearest youth. “We’re here to help. Do you speak English?”

  So far, no real sign that these people were being terrorized. Hayden began to think maybe they’d wasted their time by coming here. They should have dealt with what they knew rather than second guess and spread their resources. But it stood to reason that Kimbiri wouldn’t be the only village affected.

  Alicia half-turned. “Pretty soon,” she muttered. “We’re gonna walk headfirst into the mountain. Any ideas?”

  Drake grinned. “We could ask them to take us to their leader.”

  “They’re not aliens. They’re Incas.”

  “They’re not friggin’ Incas either.” Hayden looked around. “Surely someone—”

  “What is it that you want?” A man stepped out of a house up ahead. He was tall, gray-haired and slightly disheveled, as if he’d just thrown his clothes on. He carried a knobbly stick to help him walk, and scratched irritably at a ragged beard. He squinted hard at the newcomers.

  “What?” he asked again before they could get a word out.

  “We come from Kimbiri,” Hayden explained. “Brynn sent us, the teacher? And Emilio and Clareta—the elders? We would like to help.”

  The old man spat into the muddy road. “Can you plant vegetables?”

  Alicia shrugged. “If by plant you mean put headfirst down in the dirt, then hell yeah, we’ve dug a few vegetable patches in our time.”

  Hayden had little time for repartee today. “Kimbiri is beset by . . . savages,” she finished a little lamely. “Every week they come. The police will not help. We came to see if you were the same?”

  “Every week?” The old man spat again. “Who are you?”

  The team introduced themselves as best they could. Hayden watched as more and more people gathered. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but a group of stern-faced, freshly washed, brightly clothed individuals wasn’t it. For their part they stared at the newcomers with interest and mistrust. She had hoped for someone friendly like Brynn to step forth, but the town withheld judgment for now.

  “And why are you here?”

  “We came first to Kimbiri seeking help,” Hayden explained. “We were searching for a house in the mountains owned by a reclusive man. We hoped they might know its whereabouts.”

  “And they offered up this savage story?”

  “No. We walked into their grieving.”

  The old man squinted hard. “Explain.”

  Hayden took a long breath and told him what they’d seen only hours earlier. His expression changed gradually, clouds of emotion altering his features from mistrust to disbelief to fear and finally to anger.

  “Why have they not told us?” he barked. “They make the trek to Cusco; they talk to cops, but they do not inform Nuno.”

  Hayden knew pride no doubt had its place in Emilio’s and Clareta’s decision not to seek help from Nuno. But there was a more telling question to ask.

  “And have you informed anyone?”

  The old man’s words caught in his throat, his expression softening. It was only a moment before he took a long look around, studying the other villagers, and then came back to Hayden.

  “We have weapons. We fight. But they do no good. We . . . we thought we were the only ones.”

  Hayden held out a hand. “Well, now you have help. What is your name?”

  “I am Conde.” He proceeded to speak rapidly to the assembled throng, hopefully explaining the facts. Hayden watched them all closely in case he might be ordering an attack, but in many she saw relief entering expressions and a relaxing of muscles
. She waited for Conde to finish.

  “We expected them to come last night,” he said when finished. “But it seems Kimbiri suffered. Tonight?” he shrugged. “We will fight.”

  “You have fought before, you say. Can you tell us who these people are? What they look like?”

  “People?” Conde was back to snarling again. “Do you think we would be so frightened? Do you think we would allow people to come among us? To take our friends and families? These are not people.” He all but shuddered.

  Drake stepped forward. “What have you seen, old man?”

  “El monstruo. It is el monstruo.”

  Hayden fought back a shiver. She didn’t have to ask Conde to explain. “Has anyone ever gotten close?”

  “First Desi, then Ordell. They were taken. We have not seen them since.” Hayden heard a woman’s wail at the mention of the last name.

  “How many others?”

  “Eight,” Conde said. “Every week for two months now.”

  Drake looked back at her. “So Nuno was hit first.”

  Hayden sent a look into the distance. “Maybe. There is another village, is there not, Conde?”

  “Yes, Quillabiri. But that is a way from here.”

  “And more?”

  “Small settlements. Many without name. Two dozen people in each one, maybe a few more. We are a hardy, private folk.”

  Hayden wondered how far this went. She wondered how they had come across all this, out here in the colossal Andes and if she should turn her phone off right now. That way they couldn’t be forced home before they were done. The US political machine had no priority out here, but a new Secretary of Defense would never accept that.

  “Eight lost,” Conde offered up with good timing. “Five men. Two women. One boy,” His face twisted with emotion. “In the old days our ancestors used sling and shot. We have no enemies, not here. We are not fighters. We live a meagre, content life. But we have boulders, stones and we can make a bow and arrow. Yes, we have a rich history. A mighty empire. A sniveling conqueror. Betrayal. Murder. Gold. There is not a man nor woman here that does not know it. We speak Spanish and Quechua, and a little English. Mostly, we farm. We know what happens in the big cities—drug trafficking, weapons trading, judge-hooding. I say all this to help you better realize that we are not hillbillies.” He laughed at the strange word. “We are not uneducated and ignorant. And that you know when I say el monstruo, it is precisely what I mean.”