Emerald Buddha (Drake Ramsey Book 2)

by Russell Blake

  “That’s nuts.”

  “Of course. But the point is, you’re a target. Haven’t you had any of that kind of thing?”

  Drake shook his head. “Not really. I mean, my dough’s mostly in the foundation, so it’s technically not mine. And I keep a low profile. Nobody really knows who I am. The groundskeeper here thinks I’m a dope dealer or something, I’m sure, because I’m always either surfing or hanging out. I mean, the only one who knows anything about me is Kyra next door.”

  “And you’re not tapping that?”

  “No. I mean, she’s beautiful, but Allie and I…”

  “What happened with her?”

  Drake explained the situation as well as he could, and by the time he was done, Spencer was shaking his head. “Dude, that’s deader than Michael Jackson. Time to play house with Miss Hollywood there.”

  “No, it isn’t. Allie just needs time.”

  “How much?”

  “She hasn’t said. But in the end, I think it’ll be worth it.”

  “In the end, we’re all worm food. I say you go give blondie an oil massage and see what comes up.”

  “She’s going to be here tomorrow, by the way.”

  “Who? Allie? Or Kyra? Do you need a cameraman?”

  “Allie. Your buddies in the CIA came by for a talk today,” Drake said, watching Spencer’s reaction carefully. Spencer appeared genuinely puzzled.

  “Really? What did they want?”

  “They said if I told anyone, they’d have to kill him.”

  Spencer grinned. “At this point, I could use the life insurance payout. I’m broke, dude. That was actually one of the reasons I stopped in.”

  “Not because you miss me?”

  “Hey, of course, but I need time…” Spencer laughed. “Seriously, though, I could use a loan.”

  “A loan? How much?”

  “Enough to deal with the lawyers and all the bills.”

  “Which is…?”

  “Fifty?”

  Drake’s eyes saucered. “Thousand?”

  “I wish. No, million. That should last the year, until I can get the money back from the fund. It’s crazy, but I had more money before I had money. You know?”

  “Why don’t you sell some stuff?”

  Spencer began pacing. “I have both the plane and the boat up for sale already. The brokers were in shock – I mean, the ink’s hardly dry. But they’re probably used to it.”

  “Then your problems are solved. Or will be soon.”

  “Not really. Apparently there isn’t a big market for planes right now. It’s the economy.”

  “So you lose some money. Big deal.”

  “It’s not that. They already told me I’ll lose. It’s just that there are no buyers. Planes don’t sell like real estate. They said it could take a year or more.”

  “And the boat?”

  “Those take even longer. Every big boat in the world’s for sale.”

  “What about chartering it out? That would cut your burn.”

  “Right. Every other owner has the same idea. It’s a cutthroat market. But right now, between the suits, the repairs and maintenance, the airport fees, the salaries…it’s bad.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Three million a month, dude, and I’m not enjoying any of it.”

  “I can’t believe…”

  “Tell me about it. But apparently it’s easy to buy, and really hard to sell. Go figure. They’re brilliant at separating you from your money, but not so great at helping you unload your junk.”

  “So why fifty? Adds up to more like thirty-five, doesn’t it?”

  “Because the attorneys said it will get more expensive moving forward. It’s like a protection racket – pay up or else.” Spencer stopped moving and stared off into the distance at the shimmering blue Pacific. “You know I’m good for it.”

  “The problem is I can’t just write a check, Spencer. It’s the foundation’s money, not mine. That’s how I got around the tax issue. But it has an independent board of directors I have to run projects over a million past before I can get any cash. It’s in the charter. So none of it’s simple.”

  “How can that be? It’s your money, not theirs.”

  “In the end I opted to keep only twenty out, and the rest is the foundation’s, Spence. Sorry.”

  “How do they have it invested?”

  Drake shrugged. “I think most of it’s in bonds or cash. And I know ten percent’s in gold. In Switzerland.”

  “What? Don’t you know anything? The place to be is in stocks.”

  “Nah. I don’t like the market. Too much I don’t understand about it, and my attorney told me never invest in anything you don’t understand.”

  “What are you doing with the twenty?”

  Drake finished his water. “I’m thinking about buying a house. I’m just leasing this. But that’s got to last me forever, Spence. I can’t get more out of the foundation.”

  “Then I’m hosed.”

  Drake grinned. “Hey. Wait. Allie and I are going on an expedition. There’s supposed to be a treasure at the end of it all.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Laos. Myanmar. Thailand.” Drake explained about the plane and the lost temple. When he was done, Spencer had fire in his eyes.

  “Count me in. It’s either that or wait around for someone else to sue me. When do we leave?”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely. You had me at treasure.”

  “And you don’t mind the whole CIA aspect?”

  “Nah. Why would I? Their intel helps us find the green gargoyle, I’m all for it.”

  “Emerald Buddha.”

  “Whatever. When does Allie come?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I’m going to call these guys and set up a briefing.”

  “I can help with the logistics. We’ll want guns, you know. That area is heroin central. Some mean characters.”

  “You ever been there?”

  “I spent a few months in Bangkok in my misspent youth.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “What wasn’t I?”

  Drake moved to the phone, eyed the note he’d left by it, and dialed Collins’ number. When the CIA man answered, Drake told him he’d assembled a team that would be available for briefing at noon tomorrow. Collins sounded grudgingly grateful, and promised to have someone come by.

  “Now let me get the permits in motion. It’ll take some doing, but we’ll manage. And Mr. Ramsey?” Collins asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you. From me, and from the senator. You made the right decision.”

  “I hope I feel that way next week.”

  Drake disconnected and turned to Spencer. “I’m starving. Let me shower off and then let’s go for a ride in your land rocket. You can show me how to lose your license. We can hit a place I know on the coast for lunch, and then you can give me a tour of your new digs.”

  Spencer tossed him the keys. “You drive.”

  Chapter 7

  Santa Monica, California

  Drake waited by the charter terminal as the Citation X he’d booked for Allie taxied toward him, its turbines whining as they wound down. His heart was palpitating at the thought of seeing her again, and he realized as he watched the plane coast to a stop that he was more excited by her arrival than on embarking on an adventure in the Laotian mountains.

  The fuselage door opened and the stairs lowered, and then Allie was standing at the top, her hair blowing in the wind, one hand shading her eyes as her gaze swept the tarmac. Drake waved at her and she smiled. His heart skipped a beat and he remembered why he was so smitten – she was nothing short of incredible; or at least, she was to him.

  She descended the steps and approached him, and he marveled at how she seemed to glide, her grace natural and unconscious. When she was near, he moved to her and enveloped her in his arms, his hug anything but platonic. He moved to kiss her and she returned it with unmistakable longing. His spir
its soared; and then the moment was over and she was pulling away.

  “How was the flight?” Drake asked.

  “Nice. The massage was a little amateur, but the caviar and cocaine were top shelf.”

  “Excellent. Glad to hear the foundation got its money’s worth.”

  “Seriously, though, it was awesome. I could get used to that.”

  The ground crewman arrived with a single travel bag and carried it to Drake’s FJ. Allie eyed the vehicle and smiled. “That is so you.”

  “What do you mean, me? Maybe I have a Lambo at home or something.”

  “Not hardly. No, this is exactly what I pictured you driving.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “I hear that happens if someone saves your life.”

  They were silent for an uncomfortable moment, and Drake opened the cargo door. The crewman set her bag inside and Drake closed it and escorted her to the passenger side.

  “Such a gentleman. You must be a hit with the locals,” she teased.

  “I usually trick them into the back and then bind and gag them.”

  “That’s right. We are in California, aren’t we? Isn’t that the national pastime around here?”

  “When we’re not busy with our cults or our macrobiotic juicing.”

  “Good to know.” She studied him. “You look good. Sunburned, but I suppose that goes with the territory.”

  “I surf every morning.”

  She smiled. “No clichés here, dude.”

  “I like it. It’s…peaceful. Kind of spiritual.”

  “Well, it definitely agrees with you.”

  They strapped in, and Drake negotiated the roads to Pacific Coast Highway. Traffic was headed in the opposite direction as high-net-worth commuters made their way from Malibu to the city, and they were able to make decent time. Drake pointed out landmarks as he drove, and they arrived at his house within forty minutes. Allie’s response to the shabby exterior was only slightly better than Spencer’s, but she warmed up when she saw the ocean stretching to Catalina and the Channel Islands.

  “This is gorgeous, Drake.”

  “I like it. It’s not like I haven’t invited you out a million times,” he said, and immediately regretted how it sounded. “I mean, you’re always welcome. I’ve been dying to show it to you.”

  “Wow. Almost makes you want to give up cows and cactus,” she said. “So you just run out to the surf there every day? How idyllic is that?”

  “It’s pretty cool,” Drake said, setting her bag down by the dining table. Allie slid the door open and Drake moved to the gap. “Even with all the houses crammed together, it still feels kind of empty, you know? At least as long as you’re looking out to sea.”

  “If I lived here, I’d never leave. I’d have food brought in.”

  Kyra’s voice rang out from next door. “Drake? You there? Are you ready for that margarita?”

  Allie’s pupils dilated and then shrank to pinpoints as Drake blushed. “Um, no, Kyra. I have company. Sorry.”

  Drake began to close the door and Allie stopped him. She pushed past him and out onto his deck. Kyra was standing by a lounge chair, her hot pink thong bikini glowing against her copper skin.

  “Oh. Hi,” she said. “I’m Kyra.”

  Allie smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Nice to meet you. Allie.”

  “Hi, Allie.” Kyra hesitated, out of words. “You guys are welcome to come by for a drink if you want.”

  Allie shot Drake a dark look and then met Kyra’s with a grin. “Thanks, but it’s a little early for me. Maybe Drake would like to get a head start?”

  “No, I’m good,” Drake stammered, flustered.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll just be lying out here if you change your mind.” Kyra looked to Drake. “I missed you in the water today.”

  “Airport run.”

  “Right. Just holler if you want to come over.”

  “Okay,” Allie said. “Wear sunscreen.”

  Kyra became animated. “Oh, I totally always do. Sunburns look gross on camera.”

  “Wouldn’t want that.”

  Drake pulled the door shut and shrugged. “She’s sweet.”

  “That’s one word. Succulent might be another. And here I was worried about you becoming a hermit.”

  “Allie, it’s nothing like that.”

  “Hey, it’s none of my business,” she said, walking to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and frowned. “Juice, a package of English muffins, and some butter? And enough soda to last a month. You ever eat real food?”

  “Allie, she’s just the neighbor. That’s it.”

  Allie mimicked Kyra’s surfer-girl tone. “Want to come over for a margarita and wrassle me?”

  “She’s an actress. They’re dramatic.”

  “I’m not even going to ask what kind of movies.”

  “Her dad’s some mogul in the business. She’s harmless and bored out here all by herself.”

  “A pair of strong arms sounds like it might do the trick.”

  “Allie…”

  “What time is the CIA goon going to be here?”

  Drake looked at his watch, but was cut off before he could tell her by the sound of Spencer’s car revving into the driveway. Allie looked to the door. “What’s that?”

  “Spencer, I presume. He likes to make an entrance.” Drake had told her about his joining them on their adventure on the ride from the airport.

  She threw open the door just as Spencer killed the motor and stepped from the car. He grinned and she returned his smile as he moved to her. Their hug seemed to last longer than the one she’d given Drake, he thought, and then dismissed the unexpected hurt he felt. Just as she was imagining things with Kyra, so too was he spinning scenarios that weren’t accurate. Although it certainly looked more than brotherly to Drake.

  Spencer held her at arm’s length and nodded. “Wealth and a life of leisure agree with you, young lady.”

  “You don’t look too shabby yourself, Spencer. What’s with the pimpmobile?”

  “I knew you’d love it. I built it on a VW chassis. A kit. I wanted a project. Idle hands and all.”

  “Drake was telling me about your trials and tribulations.”

  “Yeah, I dug that hole. Now I’m trying to climb out of it.”

  “Kind of fun to have everyone back together, though, huh? Like the old days.”

  Drake laughed, but to his ear it sounded false. “That was a whole three months ago.”

  Spencer smiled. “Is that all? And here little Allie is all growed up.”

  “It’s the hormones. And the chain smoking,” she quipped.

  “You’re a rebel,” Spencer agreed, and looked at Drake. “Am I late?”

  “Don’t you own a watch?” Drake asked.

  “Nothing that I could wear to Thailand.”

  “I think I’ve got an extra Casio,” Drake said. “The most popular watch with terrorists, the guy at the store said—the Casio F91-W. How could I resist a sales pitch like that?”

  “As long as it tells the time, I’m easy.”

  They settled in on Drake’s couch and chair and talked about old times. Eventually the discussion shifted to Allie.

  “So what did you do with all your loot?” Spencer asked. Drake had warned Allie about Spencer’s loan request, so she was prepared for his overture.

  “Oh, it’s all in a savings account.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? What does it pay, like .0001 percent per year?” Spencer asked incredulously.

  “Well, I don’t really have time to learn the ins and outs of investing right now, and I’ve got my hands full with my dad’s stuff, so I’ll just let it sit until I find something to do with it.”

  “But you’re leaving so much on the table…”

  Allie smiled sweetly. “Yeah, I’ve had dozens of wealth managers fly in and try to talk me into going with them, but I never got a good feeling from any of them. They like to talk down to you, like you’re an idiot or a c
hild. Sort of that whole, ‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head over all that complicated stuff’ thing. I frigging hate that.”

  Drake interrupted the discussion with the more pressing topic of the Emerald Buddha.

  “As far as I can tell, it’s all hearsay. The Khmer king never retrieved the treasure, either because the territory was too dangerous to mount a campaign in, or because he did and they simply couldn’t find it. That’s if the story’s even true. For all we know, there is no treasure, and it’s all an invention that got bigger over time. It’s unclear where the truth lies.”

  “Sort of like every lost treasure, right?” Allie said.

  “There’s that. But one of the things that makes this particularly difficult is that the region was at constant war for so much of the following centuries. There are no records. It’s all oral traditions and speculation.”

  “Too bad we don’t have a handy journal to follow,” Spencer quipped.

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Come in. It’s open,” Drake called out.

  Collins and a tall, serious-looking man in his late thirties entered, Collins carrying a briefcase, his companion empty-handed. Beneath his untucked blue striped dress shirt and jeans, the newcomer was clearly fit and athletic, his face all hard planes and sharp angles.

  Collins introduced himself to Allie and Spencer and then held a hand out toward the other man. “This is Alex Banyon. He’ll be your field liaison, and will accompany you into the jungle.”

  “Pleased to meet everyone,” Alex said, his tone as gruff and as no-nonsense as his profile. “Mind if I sit? I’ve heard all this before.”

  “Sure,” Drake said, and rose to get a chair from the dining table. When they were seated, Collins cleared his throat and set his briefcase beside him.

  “Let’s take the matter of the plane first. As I told you, Christine was on it when it went down.”

  “How do you know?” Allie asked.

  Collins didn’t blink. “We have our sources. She was flying from China to Thailand, and there were storms over Laos and Myanmar. Our working assumption is that the plane had to ditch due to a malfunction. Could have been due to weather. No way of knowing for sure until we find the wreckage.”