Conquistador, page 16
Yuri brought his helicopter down to land.
Mitchell and his friends sprinted to the chopper and jumped in the back. “Follow that helicopter,” said Mitchell, as he slid into the co-pilot’s seat.
Yuri nodded and applied power to the engines. A dust cloud swirled around the chopper as it lifted up off the ground and began to climb up into the cloudless sky. In the distance, they could see the Huey heading due west, back to Tangiers.
“Tell me you can catch them,” said Mitchell to Yuri.
“Da, we have a better helicopter. We should catch up with them in a couple of minutes,” replied Yuri.
Mitchell turned in his seat, looked back at Jackson, and pointed to his headset. Jackson nodded and placed a set over his ears. “Nate, tell Gord that once we catch up with that S.O.B., I want him to shoot the Huey’s engine so we can force it to land.”
“With pleasure,” responded Jackson.
Mitchell looked at Yuri. “We’re going to try and force him to land. Can you bring us over the top of the Huey’s engine compartment?”
Yuri nodded and brought his helicopter higher into the air.
The blue Huey raced along at two hundred kilometers an hour, flying just above treetop level. The pilot was ex-military, and was trying his best to make it hard for Mitchell’s people to get a good shot off.
Yuri followed the other chopper into a narrow valley.
“This should do,” said Mitchell. “He’s got nowhere to go.”
Cardinal pulled open the side door and looked down at the Huey. He got down on his stomach and brought up his rifle to his shoulder. Cardinal laid his sights on the engine and began to pull back on the trigger.
Without warning, Yuri’s helicopter shuddered in mid-air. Jackson had to lean forward and grabbed hold of one of Cardinal’s legs before he fell out of the open door.
“No!” groaned Yuri as light after light lit up on his instrument panel.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mitchell as the helicopter slowed down.
“I’ve got to put down before we fall out of the sky,” responded Yuri, as he looked out of the cockpit for a flat piece of terrain.
Thick, black smoke trailed behind the chopper as it dropped from the sky.
“Hang on,” called out Mitchell.
At the last second, Yuri applied what little power he still had left in his engines and brought the helicopter down in a field of lush, green vegetation. With a thud, the wheels touched the ground. A second later, the engine seized up, and the rotors stopped spinning.
“Is everyone okay?” asked Mitchell.
“Yeah, but I’m never gonna tell my kid that a field of marijuana saved my life,” replied Jackson, staring out the window, as he unbuckled himself from his seat.
“What happened, Yuri?” asked Mitchell.
“The idiot mechanics at the place I rented this chopper from must have only done a half-assed job,” explained Yuri.
“Everyone out,” ordered Jackson. They all moved to the front of the chopper and stood there.
“Now what?” asked Cardinal.
“Yuri, can your friends get us over the border into Ceuta before nightfall?” Mitchell asked.
Yuri nodded.
“It’s time to cut our losses,” said Mitchell. “We’ll just have to try and pick up our mystery friend’s trail when we get somewhere safe.”
“It’s too bad that the bastard got away with the map,” said Jackson.
“He may have the original, but I have a copy,” said Sam, holding up her phone for all to see.
“Clever girl,” declared Cardinal.
“I’m not just another pretty face,” replied Sam with a wink.
“Okay, let’s get out of here before someone decides to come looking,” said Mitchell.
“Which way do we go?” asked Jackson. “I can’t see over these plants. They’re taller here than they were in Afghanistan.”
“The front of the chopper is pointed toward Tangiers,” said Mitchell. “So I guess we walk that way.”
24
Port of Cadiz, Spain
Salazar shook his head when he saw Gerhardt Lang’s luxurious yacht floating on the clear blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. He waited until the boat he was traveling in came to a stop at the stern of the yacht, before climbing out onto the lower deck.
A blond-haired man in a blue, sailor-style uniform greeted him. “This way, sir.”
Salazar followed the sailor to the upper deck.
“Please wait here, while I tell Herr Lang that you have arrived,” said the blond-haired man.
Salazar could feel his chest tighten. All of this wealth, and so far his employer had paid the bare minimum for hired help. If this was going to go any further, that would most definitely have to change.
“Ah, good morning, Señor Salazar, I hope you are well,” said Lang, as he walked out onto the deck. He was wearing sandals, white pants, and a white-and-blue striped shirt. In his hands were two glasses of mimosa.
“Good day, sir,” replied Salazar, not bothering to mask his disdain.
Lang stopped in his tracks and furrowed his brow. “Is something wrong, señor?”
“That depends on what happens next.”
Lang left the drinks on a table and walked to Salazar’s side. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“Here,” said Salazar, handing the map to Lang. “Eight men died obtaining that for you. I hope it was worth it.”
Lang’s eyes opened wide as he unfolded the map and looked down upon it. He stood there for almost a minute staring intently at the map. With great reverence, Lang folded it up and slid it into a pocket.
“My dear, Salazar, that map was worth a hundred lives,” proclaimed Lang. “How soon can you get to Macapa, Brazil?”
“I honestly have no idea,” said Salazar. “I’ve never been there. I’ll probably have to take several connecting flights. Why do you want me to go there?”
“Because that is where Cruz’s people will go.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They’ve been as determined as I am to find this map. They won’t stop now. Like me, they want to know if the legend is true or not.”
“Herr Lang, they don’t have the map. How could they possibly know where to go next?”
“I did some research on the team Cruz hired, and they’re not the kind of people who will give up so easily. They’ll find a way.”
Salazar let out an exasperated sigh. “Sir, you’re giving them too much credit.”
“No, I’m not. This map is useful to a point.” Lang pulled the paper from his pocket and showed Salazar the map. “See these notations on the margin of the map?”
Salazar nodded.
“They’re page references. This map is supposed to be read in conjunction with a journal or book containing the missing clues. Ten to one, Cruz has the book. I want you to go to Macapa, assemble a new team, and wait for Mitchell and his people to appear.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Salazar reached into a pocket and retrieved a piece of paper. He gave the note to Lang and waited for him to read it.
“My God, man, this is preposterous,” stammered the German. “You can’t be serious? Who the hell are The Scorpions, and how do you expect me to get my hands on one hundred and fifty million dollars on such short notice? I’m rich, but not that rich.”
“I don’t care. Sell your boat if you have to. Herr Lang, if you want me to carry on working for you, that is the price you will pay, and those are the men I want you to hire. The Scorpions are former Special Forces soldiers from all across South America. They found that there was more money to be made working for the people they were supposed to be fighting against. If this flower is as important to you as you say it is, you’ll find a way to finance this expedition.”
Lang jammed the note away into a trouser pocket. He pursed his lips and looked past Salazar. “Okay, I’ll get the money to you somehow.”
“Make sure you do, or the deal is off.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get paid.”
“Thanks. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you,” said Salazar, picking up one the mimosas and drinking it all down in one gulp. He placed the glass down and made his way below to his waiting boat. As the speedboat pulled away, Salazar looked up and saw Lang with a phone in his hand, pacing the deck. He grinned. It was evident that his employer wasn’t used to being pushed around by the hired hands. Salazar didn’t give a damn. He had a reputation for getting the job done, no matter what. It was one he had crafted over the years, and it was one he wanted to keep. It didn’t hurt that as a founding member of The Scorpions he would surreptitiously be receiving an additional five million dollars on top of his considerable fee.
In a quiet hotel, a man in his late sixties with white, thinning hair and large glasses sat on a desk and drank a bottle of cold beer while he watched Gerhardt Lang on his laptop. The man smiled when Lang screamed in anger and threw his phone over the side of his yacht. Perched on a tripod overlooking the harbor was a combination listening and surveillance device. He had been trailing Lang for days, gathering information for his brother, Alexander. Now, he had what he wanted. The man reached for his phone.
“Good day, Gunther,” said Alexander. “I hope you are in good health.”
“I am, Herr Lang,” replied Gunther. “I have what you asked for. I know what your brother is up to.”
“Let’s not talk about it on the phone. When can you meet me in Munich?”
“I can be on a flight later today, if you wish.”
“I do. I’ll have one of my men meet you at the airport.”
“Thank you, Herr Lang. I look forward to seeing you again.” With that, he hung up and got up out of his chair. His back cracked as he stood up straight. It took him less than five minutes to dismantle his surveillance equipment and pack it away in one of his suitcases.
After a quick call to book a flight, Gunther was on the move again. His body may not have been as spry as it once was, but his mind was as sharp as ever. Gunther wasn’t sure what Alexander Lang would do with the information he had collected. One thing was clear, however—Gerhardt had to be stopped before he brought any more shame to the Lang name.
25
Miami, Florida
In a spacious, air-conditioned conference room at one of Alejandro Cruz’s aerospace businesses, Mitchell and his team were reunited with the Cruz siblings and Jen. General O’Reilly was on speakerphone.
Jen kicked off the meeting. “Okay. Julia and I have been examining the map sent to us by Sam and the two of journals in our possession, and believe we have narrowed down the search area to the jungle south of Venezuela.”
“There are four known uncontacted tribes in that region of the Amazon,” explained Julia. “The people my ancestor swore to protect could be one of these four groups, but I’m not convinced. If a flower existed which could prolong life, someone would have learned about it by now. The tribe we are looking for is most likely still undiscovered.”
“Why not just leave them undiscovered?” said Sam.
“I’d love to,” said Julia. “But Gerhardt Lang is after the mythical flower the tribe is said to possess, and I doubt he’d let any new tribes be.”
“General, have you been able to speak with your friends in Germany?” asked Mitchell. “Surely, they could lean on the Lang Corporation to put an end to this madness.”
O’Reilly’s voice came over the speaker. “I spoke with a friend of mine earlier today. The man who runs Lang Pharmaceuticals is called Alexander Lang. Gerhardt is his brother. Alexander is as clean as they come. His company donates millions to Third World Projects every year. Gerhardt, on the other hand, is living off a trust fund left to him by his father, and has no fixed address whatsoever, so it’s hard for the German authorities to keep track of him. Besides, we have no hard evidence tying him to Ms. Cruz’s kidnapping, or anything else that has occurred since then. Until I can give the Germans something concrete to work with, they won’t do a thing.”
“What about the Brazilians?” said Jackson. “It’s their backyard. Let’s supply them with what we have and let them deal with it.”
Alejandro shook his head. “They’re not going to help, not without evidence. We have no proof that the tribe or the flower even exist. All we have are a picture of a map and some old journals. No one is going to believe us.”
“Julia, what is it you want to do?” Mitchell asked.
“I want to beat Gerhardt and find this tribe before he does,” she said, firmly. “If we don’t, the consequences will be disastrous for the Indians. I need not remind you that first contact with indigenous people never ends well for the natives. I, for one, won’t let that happen.”
“Julia, say we do find this tribe, and they have a flower which can prolong life. Do you think they’ll be left alone ever again?” said Mitchell. “Everyone on the planet is going to want a drug made from that flower. Once they’re discovered, their way of life will be irrevocably altered forever.”
“Not if we warn them and tell them to move deeper into the jungle,” said Julia.
“That’s a stopgap measure at best,” countered Jen. “We need to make it seem as if the tribe and flower never existed.”
“How are we going to do that?” asked Cardinal.
“I don’t know,” replied Jen. “But I’m with Julia on this. We can’t let these people be ravaged by disease and humanity’s greed. We have to find them and let them know they’re no longer safe where they live.”
Mitchell saw the determined look in his wife’s eyes and smiled. “If Julia and Jen are adamant that we have to help, then so am I.”
“I’ve got nothing on my social calendar that can’t wait a week or two,” said Jackson. “Besides, Ryan needs someone to watch his back.”
“Gord and I are in as well,” announced Sam, volunteering her boyfriend.
O’Reilly said, “Mister Cruz, it’s your money, so ultimately it’s your call.”
“I’d rather Julia stayed here in the States, but I know she’d just find a way to head down to Brazil and paddle up the Amazon on her own,” said Alejandro. “General, I’d like to retain your people’s services to help look after my sister.”
“Consider it done,” responded the general.
“Sir, is your airship ready for trials?” Mitchell asked Alejandro.
“The Avalerion is scheduled to conduct a series of test flights later this month,” replied Alejandro. “Why so you ask?”
“Just a thought.” Mitchell turned in his seat and fixed his eyes on Yuri.
Yuri smiled and canted his head. “Ryan, please, of course, I’m in. This could be fun. I’ve never seen the Amazon River before. But a chopper won’t be of much use in the jungle. Might I suggest a river patrol boat?”
“Great minds think alike,” replied Mitchell. He stood up and looked into his friends’ faces. “People, we’ve got a lot of work to do in a real short amount of time. You’re the best people I have ever worked with. We’re more like family than co-workers. I know we can pull this off. I’m just not sure how…at least, not yet.”
Jackson’s stomach growled. He patted his midsection. “Whatever happens, I hope they have sticky-bun shops in Brazil.”
26
Belem, Brazil
Mitchell paid the driver and got out the cab. He was happy the hotel they were staying in had an overhanging roof, as a torrential downpour pelted the city. Home to over one million people, Belem was a thriving metropolis situated on the Amazon River.
A couple of young men ran over to grab everyone’s luggage. Yuri had already disappeared into the city’s underworld, looking to acquire everything Mitchell and Jackson had asked for.
“All of these flights crisscrossing the globe are beginning to get a little bit tedious,” griped Jackson.
“I’m not going to complain,” said Jen. “That private 737 was the most luxurious plane I have ever flown on. My only objection was I didn’t like being treated like a pincushion by Sam. Were all those needles really necessary?”
“Sorry Jen, unlike the rest of us who get our shots on a yearly basis, your immunization book was woefully out of date,” explained Sam.
“It’s for the good of the people were about to meet,” said Julia. “Remember disease is their enemy.”
“I guess so,” responded Jen as she rubbed her left arm.
“Come on, let’s check in and then meet in the hotel restaurant,” suggested Mitchell.
“Since we’re still on New York time, I’d say we have some lunch,” said Jackson.
“I like the sound of that,” agreed Cardinal.
“Good God, all you two do is think about your stomachs,” said Sam.
“Not just that,” said Cardinal, his expression carefully neutral.
“Get real, Gord, we’re on duty,” replied Sam, ending the conversation.
Mitchell and his friends met a short while later on the restaurant’s covered patio. The rain had stopped, but leaden clouds still covered the sky. They sat at a round table with a view of the brown water of the Amazon. The lunch buffet consisted of mainly seafood dishes, with rice and vegetables.
“Any word from your friend?” Julia asked Mitchell.
“No, it’s far too early,” replied Mitchell. “I doubt we’ll hear from Yuri until sometime tonight.”
“Ryan, I did the math, and if we start our trip downriver from here, it’ll take us a good week before we’re anywhere near the area where the tribe is supposed to live,” said Sam. “If the opposition is already here, they’ll get there long before we will.”
“I know. That’s why we’re going to start our search from Boa Vista,” replied Mitchell.
“Where’s that?” asked Cardinal.
“It’s about two thousand kilometers away,” explained Julia. “It’s a city on the Branco River. Mister Mitchell, I thought you said your friend was going to hire a boat here in Belem.”
