The Frog Cypher: An Adventure Novel (Sam Harris Series Book 2)

by PJ Skinner

  Despite his unwieldy body, he felt heroic. He was going to rescue his daughter and, for once in his life, show her that he cared. The driver was waiting outside with the engine running. Sanchez ordered him to drive to Gloria’s apartment. The expensive sedan glided along the silent streets of Calderon, noticed only by the security men standing guard at every high-rise block. Most people were either in bed or huddled inside bars with their friends, drinking imported whisky or cheap local rum, depending on their pocket.

  They stopped outside Gloria’s apartment block. The driver went to press the doorbell. Sanchez was not surprised when no one answered. His daughter liked to go out and get drunk with her friends. He did not begrudge her a little fun. She would be safe enough surrounded by them. He sat back in the leather seats and breathed in the smell of his new car, judging it easier to let her come to him. He drifted off to sleep.

  Gloria was surprised when she got home in the early hours of the morning to find her father’s car waiting outside. Mike was once again her willing chauffeur but she had no intention of inviting him in now that she had found Alfredo. Even Gloria had her limits.

  She went over to the car and knocked on the window. Mike followed her over, still hoping to break her resistance, and was embarrassed when the window rolled down to reveal Hernan Sanchez, as he had not recognised the car. He wiped his hands on his trousers in anticipation. But Sanchez was not in a social mood.

  ‘Gloria, you’re in danger,’ said her father. ‘I must speak to you. Do you know a man named Wilson Malvado?’

  Mike did not speak any Spanish but he understood that.

  ‘Wilson Malvado works for me,’ he answered. Gloria translated, slurring slightly.

  ‘We had better go to your office right now. We have a serious problem with this man. Perhaps you have information that could be useful to me.’

  There was no doubting the seriousness of the matter if a man like Hernan Sanchez was up at this hour looking for his daughter. Mike was no fool, even though he had drunk his habitual skin-full. He sobered up quickly, a feeling of dread creeping into his bowels.

  ‘Okay. Gloria, travel with your father. I’ll meet you there,’ said Mike. He clambered unsteadily back into his car and set out for the office, followed by the black sedan.

  ***

  Once his precious daughter had got into the car with him, Sanchez became quite emotional. He took her face in his hands and kissed it tenderly. Big fat tears fell on his cheeks as he gazed lovingly at her. Gloria squirmed under this unexpected attention.

  ‘Papi, what is wrong? Are you ill?’

  ‘No, I’m not ill. I’m just so glad you’re safe. I’ve waited for hours for you to come home. I was so worried about you, my darling little girl.’ He choked back a sob and started to search his pockets for a non-existent handkerchief.

  Gloria did not know why her father was so emotional but she could feel that it was genuine and was impressed that he, believing her to be in danger, had waited outside her home. She took a tissue out of her handbag and dabbed his dear, plump face, which quivered with emotion. Then, she leant back against the seat and rested her head on his shoulder, while he crooned sweet nothings at her like he had when she was a small child.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, they were all sitting at the table in Mike’s apartment drinking strong coffee. Mike and Gloria had sobered up. Sanchez was ready to tell them about the evil in their midst. He was not aware that Wilson was already in San Martin with Sam and Alfredo.

  ‘So, what’s all this about Wilson?’ asked Mike. ‘Why’s Gloria in danger?’

  ‘My mechanics called me a couple of days ago and informed me that Gloria’s car crash was no accident and that the brakes on the car had been tampered with.’

  Mike looked shocked. Gloria had gone white. She added another sugar to her coffee.

  ‘But who would want to harm Gloria?’ asked Mike.

  ‘My sources tell me that it was a man called Falconi who tampered with the brakes. He was paid to cause an accident by someone named Wilson Malvado, who you say works for you. What do you know about him, Mike?’

  ‘Señor Sanchez, Wilson is our geologist. I’m afraid I don’t know much about him, although…’ Mike stopped in mid-sentence. ‘Oh, my God,’ he exclaimed. ‘Poor Sam. I should have listened to her. I can’t believe I sent her into the jungle with that man.’

  ‘The fault is mine, Mike,’ said Gloria. ‘I should have told you before about Wilson. I thought he was just a macho pig. I knew he had money problems but not to that extent. I think he imagined that I knew more than I did.’.

  ‘But why try and kill you?’ asked Mike.

  ‘The treasure,’ said Gloria, who was having a moment of extreme clarity. ‘He must want it all for himself. He must have thought that I was going tell you the truth about him and stop him from going on the trip.’

  ‘But, he doesn’t know about the treasure. He’s only going as far as Riccuarte. Who told him?’

  Gloria had a pretty good idea who the leaky vessel in the office was. But she did not tell Mike. ‘I guess he must have heard someone talking about it. Maybe he got drunk with Alfredo.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how he knows right now,’ said Mike. ‘We have to telephone the hotel in San Martin and stop them from going with him.’

  ‘I don’t have the number,’ said Gloria. ‘Only Marta has the number of the hotel.’ She ferreted around in her bag for her address book that contained the number of Marta’s neighbour, who had the only working telephone on the street. To save time, she tipped the bag onto the table. There was chaos as lipsticks, pens and coins shot across the surface onto the floor. Gloria retrieved a small dog-eared booklet and thumbed through the pages.

  ‘Here it is. I’ll call now.’

  Gloria went over to Marta’s desk and laboriously dialled the number several times before getting it right. She held the telephone to her ear and frowned with concentration. The telephone rang and rang. Finally, a very grumpy voice answered.

  ‘Hello,’ said Gloria. ‘Good morning. Sorry to disturb you. I need to speak urgently to Marta Perez.’

  ‘Are you crazy? Do you know what time it is?’ said the voice.

  ‘It’s a matter of life and death. I realise how early it is and I am very sorry to wake you, but I must speak to her right now. Can you please ask her to bring the phone number of the hotel in San Martin?’

  ‘Life and death? The phone number of the hotel in San Martin?’ The voice seemed to weigh up the options. ‘Okay., But this is the last time.’

  There was the noise of a door being opened and closed accompanied by exaggerated huffing and puffing. A long silence followed. Finally, Gloria heard the door being opened again. A breathless Marta came on the line.

  ‘Hello, who’s this?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s me, Marta,’ answered Gloria.

  ‘My neighbour told me that you need the telephone number of the hotel in San Martin. What is so urgent that you are calling me at this hour?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. But it’s a matter of life and death. I need it now.’

  ‘Sacred Virgin! Okay, you promise to tell me later?’

  ‘I promise. What’s the number?’

  ‘I don’t have it here. It’s in my desk in the top drawer. It’s on a Post-It note that says Hotel California.’

  ‘And the key?’

  ‘It’s in my handbag.’

  ‘Get into a taxi and come straight here,’ said Gloria, who looked at Mike for confirmation. ‘Mike will refund you.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  ‘Don’t do your makeup first,’ said Gloria, who knew what Marta was like her concerning her appearance.

  ‘But I can’t come out without makeup.’

  ‘If you don’t come straight away, I’ll tell Mike about you and Wilson.’

  ‘Okay, okay. Please don’t tell him. I’ll be right there.’

  Marta hung up.

  Gloria made more coffee and went dow
nstairs with some money from Mike to wait for Marta. She smoked a cigarette out on the steps of the building.

  By the time Marta’s taxi drew up, Gloria had smoked three cigarettes and was contemplating a fourth. She was startled at the difference in Marta’s appearance without her normal thick makeup. She looked ten years younger. The two women went straight up to the apartment. Marta went to the desk and opened the drawer. She handed the number to Gloria without comment.

  Gloria telephoned the hotel and waited for someone to answer. The phone rang and rang and finally cut out. Gloria rang again with the same result.

  ‘Are you sure this is the correct number, Marta?’ she asked.

  ‘I am completely sure.’

  ‘Keep trying,’ said Mike. ‘Someone will answer soon.’

  ***

  Sam was still sulking at dawn the next morning when they left the hotel. The phone in the lobby was ringing when they checked out, causing the men to complain bitterly about the effect the noise was having on their hangovers. Sam could not understand how the night manager could just ignore it. He did not seem to hear the phone or the complaints and after they had paid the bill, he went back into his room behind the reception to sleep. The telephone could be heard as they walked up the street to the station in the silence of dawn. She wondered who would be ringing the hotel at this hour. Maybe someone he did not want to speak to. Fantasies about who could be calling and how they were connected to the theft of the money belt occupied Sam’s thoughts all the way to the station.

  After the usual chaos, they loaded their supplies onto the roof of the train, which they boarded just before it set off for the coast. Wilson and Alfredo were oblivious to anything except their horrible hangovers. They sat together, leaving Sam wedged against the side of the train by a very large, smiley local lady who had an assortment of poultry at her feet. They had their claws tied together so that they lay on the floor under the seat in front unable to move, squawking in protest if someone came too near to them with their shoes.

  Sam put her small rucksack on the window frame as a pillow with the strap wrapped around her arm to prevent it from falling outside. She lowered her head onto the makeshift pillow and tried to shut out all the noise and cigarette smoke. The train jerked into action and set off at its usual snail’s pace into the early morning mist shrouding the banana plantations. Dogs followed the train, barking and running gleefully alongside. They ran through the rotting, rat-infested rubbish on the side of the tracks, skipping around the huge pigs digging with their snouts. Finally, even the slow pace of the train exhausted them. They were left panting with their tails wagging at the joy of the chase.

  ***

  Meanwhile, the night manager had finally answered the telephone when he realised that whoever was calling was not going to give up.

  ‘Hotel California. Good morning.’

  ‘Finally,’ said Gloria. ‘I urgently need to speak to Alfredo Vargas or Sam Harris.’

  ‘They checked out about an hour ago, lady. You missed them.’

  ‘This is super urgent. Do you want to earn twenty dollars? I need you to stop them from getting on the train.’

  ‘But the train leaves in five minutes.’

  ‘Honestly, has it ever left on time? Please, run down to the station and stop them from boarding. It’s a matter of life or death.’

  ‘Give me your number. I’ll call when I get back.’

  ‘Write this down quickly: 02 3459876.’

  ‘Okay, I’m leaving now.’ The telephone went dead.

  The manager stuffed his feet into his shoes, shuffled to the door of the hotel and out onto the street. He was not a man accustomed to being in any sort of hurry and he was a heavy smoker. After trotting down the road for about twenty metres, he slowed to a rolling gait and then to a slow walk, puffing and panting his way to the station. It took him just over five minutes to get to the station, just in time to see the back end of the train disappear into the distance followed by yapping dogs. He threw his hands in the air and shrugged.

  Walking back to the hotel at a snail’s pace, he stopped to buy some fresh bread from the baker. When he got back to the hotel, he attempted to call the number that he had been given. Still cuddling the warm soft rolls with one arm, he tried to dial the number with his other hand, but the telephone kept slipping across the counter. He decided to deal with the problem by eating the bread while it was still hot with a nice cup of sweet coffee. The telephone started to ring when he was on his second roll.

  ‘Hotel California. Good morning,’ he said.

  ‘What happened? Are they with you? Did you stop them from leaving?’

  ‘No, my lady, they left. The train left on schedule for the first time this year, I believe.’

  ‘They already left? That’s terrible.’

  ‘What about my twenty dollars?’ There was only a dial tone in reply.

  XIV

  Gloria put the phone down. She shook her head at Mike and her father. She was devastated. Sam and Alfredo were at the mercy of Wilson in the jungle and no one knew where they were.

  ‘Papi, what can we do? How will we rescue them?’

  ‘I don’t know, sweetheart. There is no way to contact them. There are no telephones in the jungle. Mike, do you know where they were going?’

  ‘I believe they were going to a town called Riccuarte. But the journey onwards from there was secret and known only to a certain Don Moises, who comes from an isolated Indian community upriver from there. We would never find them in time. We just have to hope that Wilson is planning only to steal and not to kill.’

  ‘I can send someone to Riccuarte to make inquiries but they will not get there until the day after tomorrow, when it may be too late,’ said Sanchez.

  ‘Papito, you know that in those small communities there is always someone who is spying on everyone else. I’m sure there is a person in Riccuarte who can help us find them. They may be abandoned or injured. We have to save them.’

  Mike, who imagined explaining to Mr and Mrs Harris how he managed to get their daughter killed by a man that she had already told him had tried to rape her, nodded in agreement.

  ‘I’ll call someone today and send him to San Martin to take the train,’ said Sanchez. ‘He’ll be in Riccuarte tomorrow and I’m sure he will find our friends. Don’t worry, darling. This guy is the best. He has never failed me.’

  Sanchez enfolded his now weeping daughter in his arms and kissed the top of her head. Mike was struck by how tenderly he held her, as if she were a small child. He supposed that for Sanchez, Gloria would never grow up. She would always be his little girl. He wondered how it would be to hold your own child like that.

  Mike had to turn away before emotion got the better of him. He was very upset by this turn of events and blamed himself for listening to Sam but not hearing what she was saying. The treasure had lost its allure all of a sudden. He felt very tired and hungover.

  Sanchez, on the other hand, seemed unaffected by his sleepless night. He shook Mike’s hand and kissed Gloria goodbye.

  ‘I’ve got to organise some things now, darling. Stay with Mike and Marta, who will keep you safe. Mike, do you mind if Gloria stays with you for the time being? I would feel a lot better knowing where she is and I would prefer she does not get further involved with this business. I will deal with it my own way.’

  Mike was sure that Sanchez was perfectly capable of dealing with Wilson Malvado. He was also certain he did not want to know what that entailed. He felt honoured to look after Gloria, on whom he had a large crush, despite her defection to Alfredo. He would protect her with his life.

  ‘Of course, Hernan. It would be my pleasure. We’ll be fine here. Please keep us up to date with any progress you have made.’

  ‘Excellent. We’ll speak later.’ Sanchez squeezed into the lift and was gone.

  Gloria sniffed loudly. She was comforted by Marta, who had sat quietly in a corner, observing the whole process. Mike told them to go and make some lunch,
as Gloria’s maid had not yet arrived. He went through all his files on the trip, trying to find clues to their destination. There was also a pile of Alfredo’s files in the office, which had potential as a source of good leads. Mike spread the information onto his bed and started going through it systematically, piece by piece. He made notes on scraps of paper that he had stored in a jar so they would not get lost.

  He had made good headway by the time the two women arrived carrying chicken breasts in tomato sauce and a big pot of rice. They were all starving and devoured the meal. Then the ice cream tubs came out of the freezer to fill the remaining space in their stomachs. At least they were doing something that felt constructive. Mike hoped that Sanchez was having better luck than him at finding clues to their whereabouts.

  After lunch, Marta appeared at the door of the bedroom. Mike had the feeling that she had something to say and felt irritated at being distracted from his review of the papers.

  ‘What is it, Marta?’ he said. ‘Can’t you see how busy I am?’

  Marta looked like he had slapped her in the face. Tears threatened to escape from her un-made-up eyes. Mike felt embarrassed. He had not meant to be so brusque.

  ‘Come on now, Marta, we are all upset. It’s been a long day already.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Mike,’ she said, ‘I’m such a fool. You’ve been so good to me, and I’ve rewarded you by being silly and allowing myself to be seduced into a confidence.’

  ‘Whatever are you on about, Marta?’ asked Mike, flummoxed by this confession.

  ‘I told him,’ she whispered. ‘I told Wilson about the treasure. He tricked me into it. I feel like such an idiot and now I have put dear Sam and Alfredo in danger. I will never forgive myself.’

  Mike felt a wave of anger run through him, which was quickly replaced by compassion. He was just as guilty as Marta of putting Sam in danger. ‘I’m sure he knew already. Wilson is a desperate man who would stop at nothing to pay back his debts. Alfredo probably let the cat out of the bag when he was drunk. I don’t want you blaming yourself and getting all upset. Sam is tough and clever, and Alfredo knows all sorts of stuff. They’ll get through it together. Don’t worry.’