The Portal (A Delphi Group Thriller Book 2)

by John Sneeden

  For several in the group, the jungle trek would be the toughest thing they’d ever faced. Until you’d experienced it for yourself, you couldn’t begin to imagine how tough it is to live in a place where your very survival is challenged each and every day.

  Zane’s eyes soon rested on Katiya. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, exposing the soft lines of her face. It was hard to imagine she was only a few years away from forty. If anything, she seemed even more beautiful here in the tropical heat.

  As she blew her bangs out of her eyes, she seemed to catch him staring at her. The hint of a smile crossed her face. Did she know what he was thinking? He smiled back then averted his gaze.

  “We’re finally here,” he announced. “This marks the beginning of the most difficult phase of our journey.” He nodded at the boat. “The quicker you realize that we’re leaving comfort behind, the better off you’ll be. Each day will involve a certain level of suffering and a certain level of danger. Recognition of that reality is going to be your first step in understanding how to cope and how to survive.

  “Marcos will take the boat back to a village a few hours away. If for some reason any of you don’t think you’re going to be able to make it, this is your last chance to turn back.” Max snickered and looked at Katiya. The others remained silent. Zane continued. “It looks like we’re all in. Good. We depart in five minutes. No exceptions. Please check to make sure you have everything you need because, absent a medical emergency, we’re not coming back until our work is finished or we run out of supplies.”

  As they began to gather their things, Zane held up a hand. “Let me remind you of one other thing. This is not going to be a democracy. Democracies don’t survive in the jungle. It’s a dictatorship. If you have questions or need assistance, feel free to ask Jorge or me.” He placed a hand on Jorge’s shoulder. “He probably knows this place better than you know your own backyard, so we’re going to rely on his expertise.”

  Amanda cleared her throat. “What is our schedule going to be like? It seems like it might be better to travel when it’s a little cooler.”

  “That’s a good question,” Zane replied. “We will try to avoid the midday heat as much as possible. My plan is to spend most of our time traveling in the early morning and late afternoon.”

  “So no night travel?” she asked.

  Zane shook his head. “You don’t travel in the jungle at night. Too many dangerous creatures prowl around after dark. It’s the most dangerous time in the jungle, so we’ll have no choice but to stop and set up a defensive perimeter.”

  Brett pointed at something in the distance. “It looks like we may not have to worry about the sun for much longer.”

  Zane turned and looked across the river. A wall of coal-black clouds was moving in their direction.

  Not again.

  “You said it’s going to be too dangerous to travel at night,” Amanda said. “What’s to stop us from getting attacked in the middle of the night?”

  Jorge looked at her. “If I may, the jungle is never safe, at least not in the way you think of safety. But we will make it as secure as possible under the circumstances. For example, we’re going to keep a fire burning every night. No exceptions. It’s… how you say… an insurance policy against the biggest predators.”

  “Not only that,” Zane said, “but we’re also going to put up a state-of-the-art motion-sensor system. We’ll supplement that with nightlong patrols.”

  Amanda nodded, but the assurances didn’t seem to have their intended effect. It was as though she realized that the high level of protective measures indicated the seriousness of the threat.

  Zane glanced at his watch and said, “We depart in two minutes.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “YOU FOUND A boot print?” the Oracle asked.

  Zane held the satellite phone tightly against the side of his head as he strode down the jungle path. “Yes, at the head of the trail.”

  There was a moment of silence. Either there was a delay in the signal or the Oracle was digesting the new information. Finally, his reply came through the speaker. “I wouldn’t be too concerned, Watson. During the planning phase, Salvador told me the trail was still used occasionally.”

  “Not this particular stretch.”

  “I specifically remember Salvador telling me that.”

  “Ross, we’re entering a bit further down than most groups, including the researchers and tourists. They generally want to get off their boat as soon as possible. We went further up the tributary to save time. Once we cross the stream later this morning, we’ll be on the main trail. It would be normal to find prints there.”

  As he waited for the reply, Zane looked ahead. Jorge and Bennett were about ten yards in front of him, discussing something as they walked. Taking a quick glance back, he saw Katiya and Max about an equal distance behind him.

  “Was the print fresh?” the Oracle finally asked.

  “It looked that way. Jorge has some tracking experience as well, and he thought it had been there about twelve hours, maybe more.”

  “Where there any other prints?”

  Zane heard the haunting howl of a monkey overhead. He tilted his head back up just in time to see several dark forms swinging through the tops of the trees. They seemed to be moving in the same direction as the team. Zane frowned.

  “Watson?”

  “Yeah, sorry… no, there weren’t any other prints on the path.”

  “What about the beach?”

  “I was the first one off, and I didn’t see anything, although I must confess I wasn’t looking very closely. Then, by the time we found the other print, everyone had disembarked and was walking all over the sand. At that point, there was zero chance of finding anything.”

  “Did you tell the group?”

  “Negative.”

  Zane looked up. The monkeys had grown silent, but he could still see their dark forms moving through the canopy.

  “You made the right decision. No need to rattle the cage until you have something more solid. For now, I’d say it’s best to keep everything under wraps. I still think there is a harmless explanation for the print, but you need to stay alert.” After a brief pause, he asked, “Anything else to report?”

  “No, nothing out of the ordinary.” Thunder grumbled low in the distance. Zane turned and saw a wisp of dark gray through the holes in the canopy. “We’ve got another storm on the way. We’re going to try to get across the stream before it hits. Once we’re on the other side, we’ll set up camp.”

  “Copy that. Chris has been able to use your signal to plot the group on a virtual map here, but it’s good to get verbal confirmation.”

  There was another grumble behind them.

  “Ross, we may get cut off soon. Before I go, any more information on the crater?”

  “I’m glad you mentioned that. Chris noticed something that seemed out of place. We ordered some new images, but it’s not likely we’ll have them until sometime tomorrow. They’re having to reposition the satellite.”

  Zane frowned. “Something seemed out of place? I don’t follow.”

  “It could be, but we won’t know until we get a chance to look at the new pictures. That area hasn’t been photographed in a while, likely because it’s not considered a region vital to national security. As you probably know, the new cameras can pick up much greater detail than the older ones.”

  Zane nodded, even though the Oracle couldn’t see him. “Right. Like going from standard definition to high definition on your television.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Copy that. Before I go, how’s my girl?”

  “Huh?”

  “Keiko.”

  The Oracle laughed. “She’s doing fine. Just a little miffed that she missed you when you were here.”

  Keiko was the world’s most advanced humanoid. Created by Ian Higgs, the father of Amanda Higgs, Keiko incorporated technology that was a generation ahead of its time. She had the appearance of
an Asian woman in her thirties and could move, speak, and think in a way that blurred the lines between humans and machines.

  Her brief history read like the plot of a thriller novel. After Higgs was murdered on the streets of London, the robot remained in the possession of the deceased man’s employer, the Renaissance Group, a multinational conglomerate led by the Russian billionaire Alexander Mironov.

  When a Delphi team led by Zane Watson and Carmen Petrosino had begun working against Renaissance, Keiko changed sides, assisting the Americans in thwarting Mironov’s plans to commandeer the CERN particle physics laboratory in eastern France. Although difficult to understand, the switch seemed to have been the result of ethics programming by Ian Higgs.

  During the events at CERN, Keiko had triggered a self-destruct explosive that took out members of the Renaissance team, including Mironov. After the fighting was over, Delphi took possession of the humanoid’s remains, transporting her back to the United States. There, a team led by Brett Foster restored the robot to her former state.

  “Please tell her I’m sorry,” Zane said, remembering that the humanoid had been taken down for programming when he was there. “It was just bad timing. Tell her she’ll be my top priority next time.” There was loud clap of thunder, this time closer. “Look, Ross, I’ve got to go. The storm is right on our heels.”

  “Copy that.”

  “I’ll be back in touch tonight if anything comes up. Otherwise, let’s talk tomorrow morning.”

  After ending the call, Zane saw that Jorge had stopped to wait for him just ahead. The Brazilian lit the tip of a cigar, puffing until he was shrouded in smoke. “Did I hear you say they have some information about our target?”

  “Someone has big ears.”

  “Those big ears keep me alive in the jungle, senhor,” Jorge said with a wink.

  “Regarding your question, they don’t have anything yet. They picked up something on satellite imagery but won’t have any details until tomorrow.” Zane pulled a canteen from his pack and took a long swig. “Ross didn’t sound overly concerned about the boot print.”

  Jorge shrugged. “Maybe he’s right. No one can say for sure. Then again, who would’ve been out here with the storms we’ve had over the last two days? The biologists would likely stay on their boats until the weather clears.” He took a draw on his cigar then said, “Something just seems a little unusual about it.”

  Zane was about to reply when a voice squawked out of his pants. “Sir, are you there?”

  Zane pulled the radio out of his pocket. “Go ahead, Bennett.”

  “I’m at the stream. I think you may want to see this.”

  “We’ll be right there.”

  As Zane and Jorge quickened their pace, Zane wondered what the Green Beret had found. He sounded concerned, but at the same time, his voice didn’t convey that he was in any sort of immediate danger.

  A minute later, they rounded a bend and entered a clearing. Bennett was crouched on the far side by the stream, facing the other direction. Maybe he found some footprints along the bank, Zane thought.

  Bennett looked up at them. “You did say there was supposed to be a bridge here, didn’t you?”

  Jorge pulled to a stop, a look of shock forming on his face.

  Zane knew from their discussions that there was supposed to be a rope-and-wood bridge here. In fact, Jorge had spoken to a man who passed through the area regularly, and he said it had still been in place just a month ago.

  “Yes,” Jorge whispered.

  Zane stepped closer to the bank and looked up and down the stream. Seeing nothing, he turned toward Jorge. “Could we be in the wrong place?”

  Jorge shook his head. “There is only one trail, and we are on it. I even saw some landmarks I recognized along the way.”

  Zane nodded.

  Suddenly the Brazilian’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at a clump of ferns along the bank. He walked over and pulled some of the fronds back. “Just what I thought.”

  Zane came and stood next to him. There, on the other side of the plants, were two posts with holes in the top. “I take it that was a part of the bridge?”

  Jorge nodded but remained silent. He leaned forward and examined the wood more closely.

  Zane looked out across the coffee-colored water of the stream. There was no sign of the bridge. No ropes, no boards. Nothing. As he drew his gaze back to the shore, he fixed his eyes on a slight impression in the soft sand at the water’s edge. He frowned. Moving past the posts, he jumped down onto the spit. He bent over and examined the lines closely. They looked like prints of some kind, but the moisture in the sand had already begun to smooth them out.

  “You see something?” Bennett asked.

  “Who knows?” he replied, standing. For now, he was going to keep the prior discovery of the footprint from the others. “Just looking for something that might tell us what happened.”

  “One thing I can tell you is that it didn’t just fall,” Jorge said.

  “Even with the storms we just had?”

  “No, it was designed to rise with the waters. Some conservation group is responsible for its upkeep.”

  Zane stepped back up onto the bank. “And you just had a contact verify that it was still in place a few weeks ago.”

  Jorge nodded.

  “Is there another way across?” Bennett asked. “Maybe we could try downstream.”

  Jorge looked in both directions. “We probably need to cross here. The water shouldn’t be too deep.”

  A voice spoke from behind them. “I think that’s a dumb idea.”

  Zane turned and saw Max and Katiya approaching. The others were spilling out into the clearing just behind them.

  “You don’t expect us to cross through that filth, do you?” Max asked.

  “Max.” Katiya shot him a look.

  “Fine, knock yourself out,” Zane said, removing a hatchet from his belt. He threw it toward the linguist hilt first. Max jumped but was able to catch it.

  Max glared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “You want to find another bridge then be my guest.” He pointed toward the tangle of vegetation along their side of the stream. “You can start hacking in either direction. Should only take you a day or two to find something better.”

  “What’s going on?” Amanda asked as she neared the group. She stopped when she realized there was no bridge. “Oops.”

  Zane looked at Jorge. “How deep is it?”

  “Not very. Waist high, at most.”

  Zane nodded. “Not bad.”

  Artur nodded toward the water. “I’ve crossed many streams this size. As long as the bottom isn’t slippery, we should be able to cross.”

  Max shook his head and mumbled something.

  Zane picked up a small limb, hopped back down to the spit of sand, and plunged the stick into the water. When the tip reached the bottom, he felt a layer of mud. Pressing, he found solid ground about an inch down. “It’s not too bad. We’re just going to have to take our time.” He nodded at Jorge. “The two of us will enter first. Once we’re in the water, we’ll let you know if there are any issues.”

  “Let’s do it,” Brett finally said.

  Zane examined the others’ faces. With the exception of Max, most seemed to be fine with crossing.

  Jorge pointed toward the trees. “You may want to find yourselves walking sticks. Anything to help you balance.”

  Zane looked at his watch. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes to do that.”

  There was another clap of thunder as everyone headed toward the trees. Zane looked at the surface of the stream. The rain hadn’t reached them yet, but it wouldn’t be much longer. He guessed they had a half hour to get across and set up camp, maybe less.

  Suddenly, Zane heard a noise and caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see a big swirl on the surface of the stream about a hundred yards away.

  Probably a carp, he thought.

  C
HAPTER EIGHTEEN

  AMANDA HAD JUST spotted a second tree limb when Zane blew a whistle, calling everyone back. She ran over to the base of a large tree, bent over, and picked it up. One end was gnarled and shaped like a handle. Perfect.

  She wasn’t thrilled about crossing the murky stream, but at least she’d have a couple of sticks to keep her steady.

  Slipping them under her arm, she maneuvered through the maze of trunks and reentered the clearing. The others were exiting the forest at the same time.

  “Nice,” said a voice.

  She turned to see Brett walking up behind her.

  She held up the one with the knobby end. “You like my cane?”

  “I do. That’s almost as nice as my granny’s.”

  “I have to confess I’m not big on this whole crossing the river thing,” Amanda whispered with a smile.

  Brett frowned. “Why not?”

  “Maybe it’s just me, but I’m not a fan of walking through water so dark I can’t see what’s around me. I’ve been that way ever since seeing Jaws as a kid.” She held up one of the sticks. “So, in addition to helping me with my balance, I won’t hesitate to put these babies to use.” She made like she was beating something with one of the sticks.

  Brett grabbed her bicep with two fingers. “I feel for any caiman that might be foolish enough to challenge these.”

  “Brett!” Amanda said, shaking her head.

  “I’m joking, I’m joking. There aren’t going to be any caiman out there. They were all eaten by the anacondas.”

  “You jerk!” She slapped his arm playfully. “I’m going to give you the end of this stick if you keep this up.”

  Zane was about to speak when suddenly a clap of thunder boomed in the distance and a strong gust of wind rattled through the nearby trees. Everyone turned and looked skyward at the sound. Even the soldiers lifted their heads nervously. She liked the idea of crossing less with every passing second.