by K. T. Tomb
“So just come back at noon tomorrow? You sure you don’t want me to just wait for you and take you back this afternoon?”
“Captain Jareau,” Jonathan attempted smoothly. He was smiling his version of his father’s convincing grin. “In this particular instance, we won’t be needing you to do anything other than exactly what we tell you to do. It’s really not hard. Mr. Kessler has ensured that you have been handsomely compensated for any inconvenience that we might cause you and all you have to do is follow instructions. Understood?”
The surly, middle-aged man nodded.
“We’ll be waiting right here for you at noon tomorrow.”
With that, the four skipped over the rail of Captain Jareau’s fishing boat and disappeared into the thick overgrown palm forest of Ile Moyenne.
According to what Jonathan and Eric had been able to find out on the Internet, the island was uninhabited and had no known resources. It had been easy to find the tons of nothing that was known about the place on the Internet. They had, however, come across an interesting article from a recent newspaper.
The story had said that a company called Komodo Industries had been trying to get the government of the islands to grant permission for them to expand their water locating, harvesting and retailing business from Eden Island to some of the less explored islands of the country. The first on their list had been Ile Moyenne. The government had been cautious and was not rushing to give Komodo easy access or exclusive rights to the exploration of the islands.
Their lack of decision had apparently angered the company’s COO and he had done the interview with an up and coming journalist to try to paint his company as positively as he could.
What great P.R.!
“We do not have enough water to export, although there has been a remarkable amount of interest from various international markets in recent times for us to do so. We lack the quantity to meet the demand on the international level,” confirms the COO of Komodo, Ricardo Rodriguez.
“We must go out to other corners of the country and find those untapped sources of fresh water, which we can use to elevate the product and increase our international viability as a country.”
This is echoed by the owner of Komodo Industries, who feels that there is still a void for bottled water in the country.
“We would like to expand into a new, healthy range of water-based products, especially flavored or carbonated water. There is enough demand for water in the country and we hope that the product continues to represent our country in a bottle. Seychelles in a bottle,” he said.
It was the biggest load of malarkey that Phoe had read in months. She got the distinct feeling that the government of Seychelles holding out on those two at Komodo must have been a really good idea. Something about them and their company wasn’t kosher.
Peter led the way through the underbrush relatively easily, shouting warning for them to be careful of upcoming obstacles that lay in their path. He was constantly on the lookout for the path of least resistance, but it was soon obvious that no one ventured to that place often enough for one to be produced. Then, just as he had thought it, Peter stumbled upon a trail cutting through the bush perpendicular to the direction they were walking in.
“Hey guys,” he said. His voice was suddenly lowered. They all looked at him questioningly. “There’s a path cutting through the forest here.”
He motioned with his hand and continued, “It’s moving in this direction.”
“Is it fresh?” Phoe asked.
“As can be expected and cleared out pretty well with machetes,” he confirmed.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Eric exclaimed.
***
Lucas Imperioli did not like the fact that he had sent ten of his best men after four Americans and a child and the few who had returned had done so without any hostages. And worse still, the others had managed to get themselves arrested. A fat lot of good Los Carnívoros had done him so far. The Catholics and his group of nerds seemed to have just vanished off the face of the planet and just as he had gotten another solid lead to follow, they’d proven that they couldn’t even kidnap a few people for him.
What seemed worse was that he couldn’t get in touch with Mario, the only member of the gang who could possibly tell him what exactly had happened to the priest and his group and if they really thought that they had a lead on finding the Fountain of Youth. However, just as Angelo Batista and the Buryats had disappeared, so had Mario. There was no answer on his cell phone or the satellite phone in the car. The GPS locator on both devices seemed to have been deactivated as well.
He knew that the group had been narrowing in on the Fountain of Youth and that they had made a stop in Tibet before moving on to the Seychelles. Their location had been narrowed down that far just before Mario went silent.
Mario had been trailing Batista for years. He had followed him into Mongolia when he and Thalia Phoenix had recovered the armor of Genghis Khan and Lucas had continued to have him follow Batista after the two separated, though he decided that it might be wise to have someone keep an eye on Thalia Phoenix as well.
He had initially hoped to entice Batista to come on board with him in order to find the Fountain of Youth and split the profits. Batista and his group of historians were the world’s foremost authorities on all things relating to the numerous legends about the Fountain of Youth, and Lucas was certain that if anyone would ever be able to find it, it would be Batista. He had made a very generous offer to the Catholic historian, but Batista had told him to go to hell without even batting an eye. From that point forward, someone, usually Mario, had been assigned to trail him.
When the trail following Batista became ice cold, he checked in on the man who had been watching Thalia Phoenix. She didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason to what she was doing, flitting about in her private jet before finally settling into her home on the Grand Canal in Venice. Two other men had joined her according to the informant who was watching her and Lucas’ ears began to perk up, wondering if the Vatican was putting together a search party.
After the informant told him that a toddler had been delivered to Miss Phoenix’s front door in a basket, the wheels in his head began to grind. What would Miss Phoenix be doing with a toddler? When his men backtracked the man who had delivered the toddler to her door, they discovered that the child had been brought from the Seychelles where Batista, Mario and the others had disappeared. With that tidbit of information, Lucas thought that he had a piece to the puzzle which was the key to the entire mystery. Getting his hands on the child would answer all of his questions.
He was certain that if the imbeciles hadn’t screwed up the kidnapping and capture of the kid, he’d have the last piece to the puzzle and be in the perfect position to cash in on the opportunity. He had already had his COO, Ricardo Rodriguez, working on opening things up for Komodo to begin exploring the additional islands surrounding Mahé in order to make his claim more legitimate. The government hadn’t budged so far, but with increased economic pressure from outside sources that were not linked to Komodo and with an increasingly positive presence in the area, Lucas was certain that by the time he had located the Fountain, he would be in a position to capitalize on it.
After escaping the gang, the four Americans had gotten onto a private jet with the child and had tracked along behind Batista and the Buryats to Tibet. They had spent little time there, indicating that they were searching for the missing men as well. Did they have a better lead than he did? Some inside information? Perhaps a better informant? If he could get his hands on them, perhaps they would be able to shed some light on the location of their lost comrades and also perhaps the Fountain. If not, at the very least, he needed to have them out of the picture. Once it was found, he would have to sit on the information until he could begin to put his plan into action of bottling an extremely diluted version of the water as a rejuvenative ‘health water.’ He would make fricking millions! Why? Because it wouldn’t be hype; the water was gu
aranteed to work.
Lucas had set up Komodo Industries as a cover operation for the eventuality that he would find the Fountain of Youth somewhere in the Seychelles or within the Indian Ocean. It was one of many such companies that he had organized in various locations around the world, each of which bottled natural spring water.
He believed wholeheartedly in the legend surrounding the Fountain of Youth and he was positioning himself to be able to make the enormous profit that would be had by the man who controlled the distribution of the water that was taken from it. Considering that every human being on the face of the planet would demand to drink that water, he’d be in a position to ask whatever price he wanted for it.
Having that sort of control over the most sought after tonic in human history would require a great deal of protection, and that was why he brought Mario and the gang of Los Carnívoros in. So far, they hadn’t provided a very good return on his investment. He drummed his fingers on his desk as he considered his next move. His thoughts were interrupted by the phone on his desk buzzing.
“Yes?”
“Mister Imperioli, I’ve got a call patched through from a sat phone.”
“Thank you.” He pushed the blinking light. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Sir?” The voice sounded confused. “Right here, like you asked me to be.”
“Where’s Mario?”
“I don’t know, sir. I did like you asked and I located his car. I’m talking to you on the sat phone in the car.”
Lucas waited for some form of explanation or excuse.
“The car was parked near the marina and my guess is that he rented a boat to go to one of the islands.”
“Of course he did, idiot! Find out which one!”
“Sir, there’s something else.”
“Tell me.”
“When I checked the airport to see if the car was there, I noticed a jet with several Americans on board had taxied in. I counted seven adults and a child. I trailed them to a hotel. They weren’t there for very long before four of them left. I followed them to the marina; that’s how I found the car.”
So, they had also wound up in the Seychelles. At the very least, they were all stirring the same pot. He considered his options for a moment. Perhaps he should let them lead Los Carnívoros to the Fountain or, at the very least, to where Batista and the others had disappeared.
“Get some of your guys to stay on them. Where’s the child?”
“As near as I could tell, he is with the three adults that stayed in the hotel.”
“Okay, Carlo, you have one person sit on that hotel. If they take the child anywhere outside the doors of that hotel, I want to know about it. Also…” He carefully considered what he was about to say. “If you get a chance to snatch one of the group of four, do it, but it must be discreet. I think the Americans will lead us to the others. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t screw this up, Carlo. I’ve put up with enough screw ups in the past week to have me on edge. Trust me, Carlo, you don’t want me on edge.” He placed the handset in the cradle on his desk, pressed his hands together and put his index fingers on the bridge of his nose. Things were about to heat up a little. One screw up could send his entire operation tumbling down.
He considered grabbing the toddler and getting some answers, but decided that for the time being, it would be better not to get things too stirred up. Snatching a toddler would certainly draw the kind of attention that he didn’t need at the moment. He might have gotten away with it in Venice, but the island of Mahé and the entire Seychelles area was much smaller and things could be too easily unraveled. Besides, he would likely have to eliminate the other three adults with the toddler, and that would certainly create a mess.
He had been patient thus far; another day or two of waiting would not hurt. Still, he couldn’t help thinking that the child was the key. He even entertained the notion that the child could be someone who had actually taken a drink from the Fountain of Youth. If that was the case, he might only be days from the greatest discovery in human history.
Chapter Seven
The 12th century "Letter of Prester John" about a legendary Christian prince who lived somewhere in Ethiopia or the Far East, also mentions the fountain of youth:
"The miraculous spring is located on an island in the extreme meridian of the world, where long-lived people drew from its waters enjoying lasting health and renewal of youth."
The History of the Fountain of Youth
— by Michael Totten
***
With Mario out of the picture, whether permanently or temporarily, Carlo was the one to take charge. He had been backup to Mario for years and he was ready to take his shot at being in charge. He wasn’t in second place because he wasn’t skilled; he was in second place because Mario was better. Mario was the best of the entire organization of Los Carnívoros. The fact that he had disappeared had Carlo on edge. If Mario had screwed up, then there must be some serious shit involved.
He had acted as though he was interested in renting the particular boat that he had seen the Americans leave in and easily gained information concerning the destination of the group. His informant hadn’t been able to tell him how long the party had intended to stay on Ile Moyenne, but was informed that particular boat and its captain would not be available for several days as he and his craft had been very well paid in advance to remain on call until the group left the island. He was subsequently directed toward another boat and captain which he accepted and soon had two other members of the gang on board with him speeding out toward the island.
As luck would have it, they met the boat that had dropped the Americans off as it was leaving the island. Carlo lined up the probable location where the boat had been beached to unload and directed the captain toward the spot. Once they were dropped on the beach, they spread out and looked for tracks. They weren’t hard to find on the deserted beach and within moments, the three of them were plunging through the dense foliage along the easy-to-read path of the four Americans.
When they came adjacent to the trail that Peter had discovered not more than ten minutes earlier, they picked up their pace.
“They will be taking their time, thinking that they are alone or perhaps they are even searching. We should be able to make up a lot of ground and catch up to them,” he told the two that were with him.
In no time at all they could hear the voices of the group as they continued along the trail in front of them. He motioned to the others to remain silent and kept an eye on the one slender, nerd-like guy bringing up the rear. He stopped for a moment and whispered to the other two.
“Let’s grab the nerd on the tail end. Move up on them quietly and wait until the others drop over that rise and then we’ll nab him.”
The other two nodded their understanding of the plan.
They crept forward into position, keeping their eyes on the leaders for any sign that they might look back or turn back. Carlo had been informed that it was the woman who was the most dangerous. She was not only a pretty good shot, but also had extraordinary skills in martial arts.
They were very close to position when the first two in the group slipped over the short rise. Carlo and the others froze when the third member of the group suddenly decided to look back toward the nerd bringing up the rear. He paused for several seconds, looking back at the trailer, and Carlo was certain that they would miss their opportunity. It appeared like he was going to wait for him to catch up before going over the rise, but he called out to him to hurry up and strode forward and disappeared.
They rushed forward, clamping a hand around his mouth and hauling him backward quickly. He was so slender and light that it took very little effort to carry him back down the trail a few dozen meters and then pull him off into the thick brush alongside the trail.
Carlo gagged and bound their captive and then sent him back with one of the others with instructions to hold him on the boat until they got back. Then he a
nd the remaining gang member continued on along the trail. With any luck, they might discover what the bunch was up to or even nab another one of them.
***
Phoe had been striding along behind Peter, enjoying the cool breeze and shade of the trail leading through the thick foliage of the island. She hadn’t pushed too hard to keep up with Peter, but she had kept fairly close behind him. Eric was only a dozen or so strides behind her the last time she looked back, and Jonathan had disappeared from view. Old familiar feelings of frustration about having brought the computer nerd along came rushing back all too easily. He was really better suited for work on the Internet and not very useful for hiking through the brush and other work outdoors.
She decided to take a look back down the trail and see if she could get a sight of the two of them. Eric was a little further back than he had been before, but he was coming along. She called ahead.
“Peter. Hold up a sec.”
She saw Peter pause and turn to look back at her.
“Let’s take a minute and let the other two catch up.”
In just a couple of minutes, Eric was at her side.
“Where’s Jonathan?”
“He’s coming,” Eric replied. “He was falling behind a little when we came over that last rise. He’s not exactly the outdoorsy type.”
“Let’s wait for him.” Phoe said. “He’s such a nerd that without a computer, he might get lost following a trail.”
“I doubt it’s that bad, he’s just not used to this stuff. Hell, I’m a little out of shape myself. You and Peter go on. I’ll wait here for a few minutes. If he doesn’t show pretty soon, I’ll go back and drag his carcass off the trail.”