“Sure is. The guy’s wound tighter than a…”
I lifted a finger. “If you want to wait until after the holidays, we can reschedule everything.” The anger in Hunter’s eyes at the mention of delay told me he was even more ready than I was to begin our endeavor.
“There is something I’d like to speak with you two about. Care to join me in the study?” Hunter started away, and I removed my wet shoes. It was damp outside, rain spitting on and off, but no snow yet: a common East Coast December day.
We walked through the mansion, and I slowed to check what the wonderful smell was in the kitchen. A man stood near the island, chatting with the chef.
“Any chance I can have a snack?” My stomach growled at the scent of his cooking. I’d been too worked up earlier, too worried about this mission to eat this morning, but being at Hunter’s relaxed my anxious nerves.
“Sure thing, Mr. Walker.” The chef was a formidable man with a white apron and a friendly smile. “We have tomato bisque and a scattering of hors d’oeuvres. Help yourself. Mr. Madison requested lunch in a half hour.”
“Excuse me,” I said, striding past the man who stood between me and the cooling food. He hesitantly shifted on his feet and stepped aside.
“Mr. Walker, is it?” The man had a tough visage and was out of place among the opulence of Hunter’s home.
“That’s what it says on my driver’s licence. How about yours?”
“Tripp. Tripp Davis.” He didn’t offer his hand, and neither did I. I knew who he was, although we’d never formally been introduced. It was difficult to do so when you were being hijacked in the middle of the jungle.
“No way.” I left the finger foods behind, stalking for Hunter’s study with expedience. “Hunter, this wasn’t part of the deal!”
Hunter was seated, talking with Marcus when I barged in, and he lifted his hands defensively. “I see you’ve met Tripp. Calm yourself, Rex. We can discuss this like adults, can we not?”
“Wait, the Tripp? That jerk that took your loot and left you high and dry in the rain forest?” Marcus rose, coming to join me in my posturing.
“I’ll have you know that what we did was within our rights according to local…” The man was behind me, and I clenched my jaw, using all my reserved strength to stop myself from decking him.
“You screwed me over and took the prizes I’d committed months of research and weeks of scouring to locate.” I pictured the carved figure, with red jewels embedded as eyes in the black onyx statue. “Not to mention the investment I failed to return to the museum funding my expedition.”
“Tripp always gets the job done, Rex. That’s why I’m insisting he join the crew.” Hunter stayed seated, and Tripp gave me a satisfied smirk as he watched me, arms crossed over his chest.
“It’s off. I won’t work with this man,” I said, and started for the exit. Francois arrived, and he blocked the doorway. I could feel the tension rise in the study, and I glanced at Marcus. He moved closer to me. This was a real make-or-break moment. A man like Hunter, who claimed to have been part of an alien cult at some point, hadn’t gotten this rich and stayed wealthy by being a nice person. I had no doubt he’d done many unscrupulous things.
Everything inside the study looked the same, but it was the opposite of the inviting space it had been the first time we’d visited. It was hostile. Angry. Hunter Madison finally stood, his hands clutching his chair arm to assist the motion.
“I’m dying, Rex. I’ve spent far too long on this to give up or lose it now. Tripp is devious, yes, but he’s working for me. You’re in charge of this expedition, so by every account, he answers to you. Is that understood, Tripp?” Hunter asked.
The man picked at his nails, avoiding eye contact with me as I stared daggers at him. “Fine by me.” He smiled. “As long as I get paid, we’re aces.”
Francois stepped aside and disappeared into the corridor. I had to keep an eye on that one. He was dangerous despite his stuffiness and reluctance to be seen.
I stood my ground, the adrenaline in my body giving me a boost of energy. “I’m hiring the guide. We need a pilot who we can trust. I know just the guy.” The sooner we started, the faster my time with Tripp would come to an end.
Hunter nodded. “See, we can work together on this. Let’s eat and discuss how to proceed in a timely fashion. You can contact your guide, and we’ll make the offer. Sound good?”
Castro was going to be thrilled to join our crew. The last time I’d talked with him, his tour business in the outback had been suffering.
“Fine.” I reluctantly let Marcus past me, and he jogged ahead of Tripp, both of them advancing toward the dining room.
Hunter’s grip held me back, and he stumbled, almost falling over. “Are you okay?” I asked him.
He grunted and righted himself on my shoulder. “I’m terribly sorry. The medication… It throws me for a loop on occasion. Do you mind staying close in case it happens again?”
He still hadn’t told me what he was dying from, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “Tripp Davis. You sure this is the right call?”
“Tripp is tougher than nails. He’s been deployed to the world’s darkest corners and returned without a scratch.”
I doubted that. The man had been a Navy SEAL, but doing whatever clandestine missions he’d accomplished under the orders of the US government would have left marks. Maybe not on his skin, but in more unpredictable recesses of the mind—not that I felt sorry for him. “If he so much as screws us in the slightest, he’s done. Understood?”
“We won’t have to worry about that. He’s being… compensated well.”
I halted before we entered the dining room, and turned to face Hunter. “If this Bridge is real—and I still have reservations, of course—there’s no amount of money to keep our secret. Tripp will use the knowledge to his benefit. I believe that.”
“Dirk…” Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry. You’re acting just like he used to. Your resemblance is uncanny. Your voice… Rex, the Bridge isn’t a lie. Your father found the Tokens, and he used them in the Case. I know this without a shadow of a doubt. He departed. And I have to find the Bridge.”
“What do you expect on the other side?” I asked him.
“Contact.”
2
The tires kicked up plumes of sand behind us as we drove from the local airport toward Castro’s home. It had been over five years since I’d visited, and I’d almost forgotten how remote he was. I admired the man for taking the plunge. He spent his days guiding tourists on exotic and adventurous treks through the main sights of Australia’s outback.
The air conditioning raged from the clunky 4X4’s vents, and Marcus played with the air, trying to make it colder. “It’s ninety degrees in December. This is wrong on so many levels.”
“If it helps any, it’s cooler in July.” I wiped sweat from my forehead and steered the rented car on the rough roadway. There was little in the way of traffic, and I raced down the street, hoping to catch Castro at his house.
“How do we know he’s even there?” It had been an ongoing complaint from Marcus after I couldn’t reach Castro on his phone.
“His reception is terrible. We’re going to find him drinking a beer on his deck.” The drive was over an hour but went by quickly as Marcus and I discussed our next steps.
“From here to Madagascar. Will Hunter join us there?” Marcus asked. A huge white two-ton truck barreled down the road, and I had to slow, craning the wheel to the left to avoid being creamed. “I’ll never get used to driving on the wrong side of the road.”
I watched the truck continue on, speeding even faster as it swerved in the middle. “It’s a little arrogant to assume driving on the right is the correct way, isn’t it?” I smiled at Marcus, but he didn’t return it.
“Sure, Rex, whatever you say.” He grabbed his phone, tapping the screen. “Should be a fork soon. We’re staying left. Looks like five minutes.”
At first, I expected to greet
an envoy of vehicles, judging by the volume of dirt in the air, but with my window cracked, I began to smell the smoke. We were at a higher elevation, with Castro’s tour company at the far end of the valley. It became obvious that was the origin of the smoke. So far, there were no emergency responders on the scene. “Call 112!”
I pressed on the gas pedal, hoping the fire wasn’t as bad as the smoke it had created, but I was sorely disappointed. The flames were higher by the time we neared the structure. His house hadn’t been much more than a cabin, hidden from the sun by a rocky hill wall that helped to keep it cool. The entire building was engulfed in flames.
Marcus frantically tried to explain our location to a dispatcher, but it would take anyone a long time to respond all this way into the wilderness. There was nothing but dune fields and mesa for miles in every direction.
I clambered out of the vehicle, leaving it running, and ran toward the home. The sign near the turnoff had his business name, Tours by Castro, and I coughed from the thick smoke.
“Castro!” I shouted his name. I tried to see if his truck was there, and spotted it, along with a newer van closer to the home. “Castro!”
The fire was spreading to his garage, and within minutes, the flames jumped toward Castro’s truck, which was parked near the open door. The explosion rang out loudly through the valley, and Marcus rushed beside me, staring at the destruction as pieces of the truck landed on the shale-colored ground.
“Was it those guys in the white truck?” Marcus asked. “I gave the description to the dispatcher.”
“It probably was. I hope Castro wasn’t home.” I had a sinking feeling someone had known we were coming to offer him a job, and now he was dead.
____________
Four hours later, after being grilled by the police, we were allowed to return to the airport for a quick hop back to Sydney in Hunter’s hired bush plane. By the time we arrived at the hotel, Marcus and I were exhausted, ready to call it a night.
“Where’s Castro?” Tripp asked as I stepped toward the elevator.
“How long were you waiting there?” Marcus demanded after jumping in shock.
“Long enough.” Tripp wore beige cargo pants and a short-sleeved white top, mostly unbuttoned. I noticed both arms were covered in tattoo sleeves.
“Castro won’t be joining us,” I advised him. By the time we’d returned to the airport, both of our phones were out of juice, and I hadn’t wanted to give Hunter the heads-up anyway. He would have just gone ahead and hired someone else without my input.
“Why’s that?” Tripp asked.
“He’s dead.”
This elicited the reaction I wanted. “Dead? Are you sure?”
“I saw him after his house fire finally burned out. I’m certain he’s gone,” I told him as I walked on and pressed the elevator button. Hunter had set us up in a nice hotel near the Opera House, and all I wanted to do was hit the shower and get a nap in before we figured out what came next.
“He’s going to want to talk to you,” Tripp said.
“Are you his personal secretary?” I asked, and the man only grunted.
“I’ll let him know you’ll join us in the bar for dinner in two hours,” Tripp said.
“Fine. But can you do me a favor?”
“That depends.” The elevator dinged and opened. Marcus stepped aside to let a young couple by. “Just don’t tell Hunter about the… incident.”
“A man’s dead and you call it an incident? You’re harder than I’d expected.” Tripp said it like this was a good thing in his books.
“Can you do that?” I asked again.
“You have two hours.”
I gave Tripp a nod, and he locked gazes with me. He had the look of a military man or a lifelong police officer. He’d seen too much during his tenure with the SEALs and carried it with him everywhere he went. It was in his posture, his tone, and his gait as he walked.
“See you then.”
The doors closed with Marcus and me inside, and my friend exhaled. “Rex, we haven’t even started yet and we’re already behind.”
Castro was dead, and it might have been my fault. The guy always had a problem with gambling, and I’d guessed that was part of the reason he’d ended up isolating himself in the middle of the outback. The fact that someone had burned down his business might have had no connection with the search for the Bridge.
I clung to that hope as we entered our floor. Marcus stopped at his room, beside mine.
“Two hours?” he asked.
“I guess so.”
“I’ll come get you.” With that, my sidekick was gone. For someone who hadn’t grown up in the field, he had sure taken well to the difficult adventure. I was proud of him.
I went into my suite, shaking my head at the lavish surroundings. This was my first time being catered to in my life. I’d had expense accounts allocated for artifact hunts before, but they were always limited, and usually just kept me from the worst hotels—definitely not in the top resorts.
Hunter had had an air of excitement surrounding him the last couple days, and he was going to be disconsolate that my choice for a pilot was no longer available. Any delays would really set back our timeline. I sat on the bed and plugged my phone in. The red light flashed on the top right corner, and I headed into the bathroom.
The water did its best to wash the sweat, smoke, and dirt from my skin, but the image of Castro’s burned corpse on a gurney didn’t rinse off quite so easily. I stayed under the scalding heat for some time, and when I emerged from the shower ten minutes later, the entire room was fogged up.
My phone held a few messages.
Jessica – Rex. Was hoping we could get together again. Maybe Sunday?
I’d deceived her at dinner about not leaving town. I scrolled to the next one.
Richard – You have to stop avoiding me. Please, I have some information you might find useful. Call me.
I stared at the screen, wondering why he always felt the need to be so cryptic. Why couldn’t he just come out and say it? It was his way of trying to ensure I’d contact him, but it wasn’t going to work this time.
With nothing but a towel wrapped around my waist, I lay on the bed, my eyes closing as my head hit the pillow. I needed to source another pilot. Someone I trusted. Someone on my team, so I wasn’t overpowered in every decision by Hunter and Tripp.
There was only one person left in my mind. I sent a message to her, knowing she might not want to hear from me, since I hadn’t called her back after our fling in Germany. I sat still, waiting for a response, and saw three dots appear. They flashed for what felt like five minutes, and vanished. When she did reply, the message was short and to the point.
Elise – Nope
I ran my hands through my wet hair and rolled onto my side. There had to be someone else. All I needed to do was think. What was the name of the guy who’d airlifted us out of Nepal that one time? He was willing to go the extra mile, but I thought he might have had a drug problem.
I set the phone down and closed my eyes as I considered my options.
A hurried knock woke me some time later, and I checked my phone, seeing no more messages from Elise. That was a burned bridge.
More knocks. “I’m coming!” I called. My mind was blurry, but even a short nap was better than nothing. I did feel slightly more focused as I strode across the suite, finding Marcus the culprit.
“Rex, better get dressed.”
He looked at my towel, and I secured it. “Sorry. I dozed off. Come in.”
“Did you have any luck hiring someone else?” Marcus asked.
“Sadly, no.”
“What about that one from Germany… what’s her name?”
“Elise… and she’s a hard no.”
“I remember Elise. She was quite the...” Marcus smiled, and I threw a throw pillow at him.
“This isn’t a joke. We’re supposed to be leaving for Madagascar tomorrow, and we’re missing our pilot.” I climbed into a pair o
f jeans and tossed on a short-sleeved shirt, buttoning it up.
“Hunter has cash. He can hire locals—”
“Locals can be bought by the cultists. This mystery is running deep. I can’t help but think Castro would have been safe if it wasn’t for us,” I said.
Marcus shook his head, as if trying to convince himself that wasn’t true. “They couldn’t have known. It was last minute, the bush plane pilot paid in cash. He must have been tied up in something else.”
“You know what, he was always smoking cigars. He probably had a few too many beers and lit his porch on fire.”
Marcus’ eyes blinked wider. “Is that why you called him Castro? The cigars?”
“The very same reason.” After adding some deodorant and a splash of cologne, I moved for the exit. “Let’s find out what Hunter wants to do.”
And we were back in the elevator after too short of a sleep. “Did you get any rest?” I asked Marcus.
We were alone, and he leaned against the wall. “Barely. This whole thing has me wound up. How do you do it?”
“It’s new to me too. Usually, we’re investigating one site, and we have a far larger team of professionals. This worries me. Tripp is a concern.”
“What’s the guy’s deal?” Marcus asked, and I glanced at the numbers, seeing we had six floors to go.
“Navy SEAL. Single. Never married. He’s a killer, Marcus. That’s why Hunter brought him on. He knows his way around a vast array of weapons, and he understands how to stalk and evade better than ninety-nine percent of the population.”
The doors opened, and Marcus held still for a moment. “Is he on our side?”
“Let’s hope so.”
The place was busier in the late hour, and I checked the time, wondering if it was the next day yet. It was almost eleven. The bar was loud, filled with well-dressed patrons drinking heavily as music played from unseen speakers. I scanned the room, spotting Tripp with Hunter Madison at a private table apart from the action.
We walked toward them, and I tried to avoid getting a spilled martini dumped on my shirt while Marcus stopped at a table, chatting with three clearly intoxicated ladies. I reached for his arm, leading him away. “Not the time.”
Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) Page 14