by Bill Craig
“Interesting. I suppose that this will not come as a shock, but I am a bit of a timid man. Going to that bar to find you stretched the bounds of my bravery. Finding out that my life may well be in danger because of it? It makes me feel faint!
“Don’t worry, Webber!” Fortune chuckled. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you while you are in Chicago. I can’t make any guarantees after you get back to New York, however.”
“Nor would I expect you to, Mr. Fortune,” Webber told him, as he stuffed the remainder of his clothing back into the bag.
“I like you Webber! You’re a good man,” Fortune clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him from his feet. Webber wondered, briefly, if being Jake Fortune’s friend would get him killed.
Chapter Four
It was well after midnight and the rain continued to fall in sheets being driven along by a sharp, frigid wind. The taxi driver that had picked them up a couple of blocks from Webber’s hotel was the talkative type and kept a running monolog all the way to the city’s Chicago Midway Airport. Fortune paid the guy and helped Webber get his luggage inside to the ticket counter. Webber bought a ticket and Fortune decided to treat them both to a whiskey before it was time for Webber to board.
“Tell me about your boss, Mr. Webber,” Fortune prompted, as he took a sip of whiskey. It was a good brand, not the cheap stuff like O’Malley passed off as a top shelf brand. Fortune knew that O’Malley recycled the bottles, filling them with whatever swill he could buy the cheapest. Fortune didn’t begrudge the man trying to make a profit now that prohibition was over, but dammit, whiskey was an honest man’s drink!
“Mister Griffin is a very successful businessman. He was one of the few that managed not to lose everything during the crash. He is also something of a history buff, and he has spent a great deal of time reading about both the Aztec and the ancient Mayan Indians of Mexico,” Webber explained.
“So, what does he want with me?” Fortune asked.
“The most I am allowed to say, is that he wants you to lead an expedition into the jungles of Southern Mexico in search of a lost Mayan city. There are others who don’t want him to succeed, and they are more than likely the ones who are watching me,” Webber confided.
“Then you need to be very careful once you get back to New York City, Mr. Webber. Enemies like those, they don’t give up easily.”
“So, I am learning, Mr. Fortune.”
“Call me Jake, Pal.”
“Yes, Sir! I mean, yes, Jake,” Webber replied, grinning. At that moment, a loud-speaker announced that the flight to New York City was boarding. The two men shook hands and Webbed headed out to get on the plane. Jake Fortune headed back out into the night. He wanted some answers and he had a pretty good idea where to find them.
Floyd Webber settled back in his seat. He flicked nervous eyes over the other few passengers that had boarded the flight for New York City. No one stood out. In fact, more than half were women. Webber took a deep and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes and fell into an uneasy slumber, as the twin engine plane flew east towards New York.
“Uncle Peabody,” Glory Newkirk called out, as she knocked on the thick oaken door that led into her uncle’s office. He had insisted that she stay in his enormous penthouse, after agreeing to fund her expedition into Mexico.
“Come in, Gloria. I was on the telephone when you started knocking,” Peabody Griffin told her, as he tugged the thick door open.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt,” Gloria told him. Her long curly red hair was tied back in a frizzy ponytail.
“Not at all, my dear! I have been busy trying to secure personnel for the expedition into Mexico,” Griffin told her.
“I have a list of names of scientists and medical professionals that I believe will be beneficial to the expedition,” Glory said, handing him a piece of paper with names on it.
“You are sure of all of these people?” Griffin asked.
“As much as I can be, Uncle. I know the majority of them through their professional reputation. But there are a few that I do know personally.”
“Then I will consider them vetted, my dear,” Griffin smiled indulgently at her.
“What about security for the expedition, Uncle?”
“I’ve sent for a man whom I have a great deal of confidence in, Glory. I know that should he accept the job, he will make sure to bring you home to me no matter what,” Griffin told her
“That is good to know, Uncle,” Glory smiled at him.
“It brings me a measure of satisfaction as well,” Griffin told her.
“When do I get to meet this security man?” Glory asked.
“Very soon,” her Uncle replied.
“Well, goodnight then, Uncle. I shall see you at breakfast,” Glory said, heading for the door and pulled it closed behind her. She couldn’t help but smile. Her Uncle could be very odd at times, but she knew that he loved her. Whomever this man was that he was hiring to safeguard the expedition, she was sure that he would be quite resourceful.
Glory made her way to her bedroom, pausing only to say goodnight to Jeeves, her father’s man servant. Then, she shut her door behind her and walked to the small writing desk. She pulled her journal off the top and began studying her notes about the region that they were going to explore.
She had copied passages from journals written by the two famous explorers, John L. Stephens and Frederick Catherwood from their own expeditions of the Yucatán. While their route had been different from the one she had planned, her expedition would also be passing through the lowland swamp regions, but not going as far south. She didn’t plan on traveling into Guatemala, not even by accident.
No, she was searching for a specific set of ruins, one that held the Temple of Kukulkan. In that temple, it was said there resided a statue of the serpent god. The eyes of the statue were said to be a pair of goose-egg sized emeralds of incomparable quality and, perhaps also had mystic power, though she put little stock in that.
Glory Newkirk was a scientist. She didn’t believe in the occult. No, she believed in what she could see and touch. Glory closed the book and walked over and peeled off her housecoat. She turned back the covers and climbed into bed, then after pulling up the covers, she turned off the light, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
Chicago, Illinois.
The rain was still falling as Jake Fortune made his way up the metal fire-escape. He blinked the water out of his eyes, as he crept closer to Gene Malloy’s apartment. Fortune had stopped by his own place and picked up one of his guns before paying this particular visit.
Gene Malloy was a local gangster, one who frequently hired his men out to others for a price. The job didn’t matter, just the price that was paid. He had recognized one of the men as belonging to Malloy’s gang. Fortune wanted to find out who had hired Malloy to kill Floyd Webber. Fortune felt like he owed the little man that much.
Fortune checked the window. It was unlocked. Fortune slid the window up and stepped inside out of the rain. The bed was unoccupied; Fortune could tell that much in the light that came in from the window.
He reached under his jacket and pulled out the Colt .45 revolver. He let the muzzle of the revolver lead the way as he moved into the shadows. He had questions for Malloy. Questions that he wasn’t about to let go unanswered.
Gene Malloy was wearing a Navy-blue smoking jacket over a white dress shirt and dark suit pants. He had a cigarette tucked into the corner of his mouth. His dark hair was slicked back from his forehead. Thick bushy eyebrows looked like dark caterpillars over his deep brown eyes.
He didn’t like the blond-haired man sitting across from him in the dark black suit and raincoat. The wide brimmed hat kept most of the man’s face in shadow. His money was the right color though, and that was something that Malloy couldn’t argue with.
“Your guy got away,” Malloy said, softly.
“How did that happen?” asked the other man, his accent thick.
“I wish I knew,”
Malloy shrugged. “My boys got bested when they weren’t expecting it.”
“Then perhaps your boys weren’t good enough.”
“Or maybe, you didn’t tell us exactly what we might expect when we tried to take the target out.”
“I gave you all the information that you needed to know to make the hit.”
“Obviously, you did not. Otherwise, Webber would be dead rather than in the wind,” Malloy pointed out.
“So, you want to place the blame on me?” the man in black asked.
“Hey, Pal, if the shoe fits,” Malloy shrugged.
“Since Webber got away, you need to kill Jake Fortune. He cannot be allowed to go to New York,” the man in black advised.
“Don’t worry. I can handle Jake Fortune.”
“I hope that you can,” the man said, as he stood and picked up his hat. Seconds later, he was out of the apartment and the door had shut behind him.
“Gene, you shouldn’t make promises that you can’t keep,” Jake Fortune said, as he emerged from the shadows of the master bedroom.
“How the hell did you get in here?” Malloy demanded.
“The window, Gene. Your boys just weren’t ready for me,” Fortune shrugged.
“You think you’re pretty slick, don’t you?” Malloy glared at him.
“Pal, you can’t even begin to know,” Fortune told the gangster.
“We’ll see about that.”
“First things first, Malloy. Who was that guy that wants me dead?” Fortune asked.
“I didn’t ask for his name,” Malloy sneered evilly.
“Too bad,” Fortune slammed the gun down on the gangster’s hand, breaking the bones in it. The hand began to swell immediately. Malloy screamed and Fortune punched him in the face. “Now, once again, who was that guy?” Fortune demanded.
“I… I’ll fucking kill you for this, Fortune!” Malloy gasped.
“Who was that guy?” The butt of the gun smashed down on Malloy’s other hand, breaking it as well. The gangster bit off the scream this time, tears running down his cheeks, as he fought against the pain. “Next, it is going to be your knee caps, Gene. Do you really want to be a cripple for the rest of your life?”
“He’s German. Klausen is the only name I know,” Malloy whimpered.
“See how easy that was, Gene? You could have spared yourself a lot of pain,” Fortune told him.
“I’ll gut you like a fish, Fortune! You’ll die screaming for this!” Malloy shouted, his face flushed red with pain and rage.
“No, Gene. I won’t,” Fortune said, stepping behind the wounded man and grabbing his head and twisting, breaking his neck. One lesson that Fortune had learned in the war was not to leave an enemy at your back. He slipped back out the window and down the fire escape. Only Malloy’s men might wonder who had killed him. The cops wouldn’t care.
The German had taken his car and driven straight to the airport after leaving Malloy’s apartment. His men were waiting with the plane, fueled and ready. He hoped that Malloy would be able to make good on his boasts, but one should never leave things like that to chance. No, he would set up watchers in New York City to make sure that Jake Fortune did not manage to make his meeting with Peabody Griffin.
New York City.
Floyd Webber awakened as the plane touched down at Glenn H. Curtis Airport. He was still groggy when the plane rolled to a stop at the terminal. All he had with him was his briefcase. Fortune had said he would send the rest of Webber’s luggage via parcel post. Webber hurried through the terminal and climbed into a taxi. He gave the number for Griffin’s penthouse address in Manhattan and the taxi pulled out onto the street.
Chapter Five
Yucatán, Mexico.
“Telling war stories?” Glory Newkirk asked, as she reached Fortune and Rogers. She was busy mopping sweat from her forehead. The sun had set and she took a seat next to them on a fallen log. Many of the other members joined them as well.
“Not really, just telling Mike how I got involved in this little vacation trip,” Fortune smiled at her.
“As I remember it, my uncle hired you.”
“Yes, he did. We aren’t going to be able to take the trucks much farther into the jungle. There is a lot of swampland between here and the coordinates that you gave me. I checked with Chac. He was born in this territory, so he should know,” Fortune said, referring to the head of the native guides.
“Chac should know. He’s very highly recommended from some of the other expeditions that have gone hunting these Mayan ruins. Plus, he’s damned smart.”
“That’s one of the reasons that I hunted us up some guides that have lived in the region,” Fortune pointed out. The night had grown very dark around them, the shroud of trees and creepers above them blotting out the night sky. Strange noises began filtering through the jungle. Fortune slapped at a mosquito that had landed on his neck. All the expedition members were taking Quinine pills to try and prevent catching malaria. None of the bug repellents that they had brought with them from the States seemed to act as much of a deterrent to the Mexican bloodsuckers.
“How much do any of you know about the Maya?” Glory asked.
“Not a whole lot, but then history was never my strong point,” Fortune told her.
“The Maya and the Aztec were the most advanced civilizations in Mesoamerica. Their empires reached from the Amazon into Mexico. They often traded with each other, as well as with the Incan empire in Peru. Until the 1800’s, nobody in the United States had a clue that these civilizations even existed,” Glory explained.
Her face had taken on a glow as she began to expound on her subject, stepping into the role of teacher, she began to educate the rest of the party about the civilization that had perished hundreds of years before.
A strange guttural scream from above cut her off and Gloria dropped into a crouch, her green eyes searching above her. “What in the world?” she gasped.
“Howler monkeys,” Walter Bosley announced. Bosley was a naturalist and scientist, who had come along to study any wildlife that they might encounter on their journey into the Mexican state of Quintana Roo. Bosley stood about six feet tall with short dark hair and round-lensed glasses. He was a quiet sort of fellow for the most part, but when he did speak, what he had to say was informative.
“How do you know what they are?” Glory asked him, standing up once more. The logs in the fire snapped and crackled as the flames ate at them.
“This part of Mexico is home to both howler monkeys and spider monkeys. The howlers are much louder than the spider monkeys,” Bosley explained.
“What else do we have to look forward to, Walter?” Fortune asked, curious.
“There are venomous snakes in the region we are going into. Fer-de-lances, coral snakes, South American rattlesnakes, and cantil vipers that are the Central American equivalent to cottonmouths or water moccasins. There are, also, a couple of different species of crocodiles and then there are the big cats, large Jaguars that are more than six feet in length not counting their tails.” Bosley said.
“What about the natives?” Rogers asked, looking at Chac.
“For the most part, they will leave us alone. There are a few tribes, however, who have never seen white men and will think you are demons come to steal their souls. They will treat you as both invaders and enemies,” Chac explained.
“It all sounds like a fun vacation,” Fortune rolled his eyes.
“You’re being well paid for it,” Glory glared at him.
“We are, Princess. I’m being well paid to protect you, as well. But it’s not just the locals we have to worry about, now, is it?” Fortune asked her.
“You mean the German?” Glory asked him.
“Yes, him and his men. And whoever is paying him. Do you have any ideas on who that might be?”
“I wish I did. At the moment, I don’t,” Glory sighed.
“Too bad. Didn’t your Uncle give you any idea?”
“He did not.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t like the sound of that,” Fortune sighed.
“You’re not alone in that,” Glory sighed.
“So, you think he knows more than what he told us?”
“As much as I hate to say it, yes, I do.”
“So, what do you think this is about?” Fortune asked.
“I think it has to do with an idol in the Temple of Kukulkan.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“A Mayan god also known as the Feathered Serpent. The Aztecs called him Quetzalcoatl,” Glory sighed.
“What makes this idol so important?”
“I wish I knew,” Glory said, not looking at him. She hoped that he wouldn’t realize that she was lying. Because she knew exactly why her father’s adversaries were after them. They wanted the emeralds that were the Eyes of Kukulkan.
Glory had promised her uncle that she wouldn’t talk about Hiram King unless absolutely necessary. She had no desire to break that promise, despite the things that had happened since their boat had off-loaded them in the northern point of the Yucatán. She suppressed a shiver just thinking about the man.
Hiram King was not a pleasant man in any respect. He was a hulking brute, nearly as wide as he was tall, with a sloping forehead and craggy brows, and close-set piggy eyes over a too wide mouth filled with squared yellow teeth. His hair was almost black, and in the dark, he could easily be mistaken for some great ape or gorilla from the heart of the African jungles.
King had been born into money, but he had never fit in with high society. Some said it was due to his brutish looks, others because of his horrid manners and baser appetites. Rumors abounded back in New York about King, but nothing had ever been proven.
King had also made overtures to Glory that had thoroughly repulsed her. She suspected that King wanted the Eyes of Kukulkan for the wealth and importance they would bestow upon him, but also, to use as leverage against her uncle to force her into some sort of unholy marriage.