“You could say that.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing, I just forgot to lock the door, and half the plane walked in on me while I was taking a shit.”
Tina and Todd immediately burst out laughing, and suddenly the thought of disappearing into the Costa Rican jungle to search for Estelle seemed like a welcome respite. I did my best to tune out their laughing and tried to find peace within myself, but it wouldn’t come easily, for dignity was difficult to attain but easily lost.
CHAPTER SIX
Keeping Up with the Indiana Joneses
THE PLANE TOUCHED down ten minutes later, and, soon thereafter, Tina, Todd, and I were making our way out of the first class cabin and passing the crew as they gave the obligatory farewells. I spied Charlotte, and she gave me a warm smile without the slightest hint of judgment, and it made me feel a bit warm and fuzzy inside, as the world had at least one deeply empathetic person. Thank God for small miracles.
“Thank you for flying with us,” she said.
“No, thank you for your other worldly compassion, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”
“You’re welcome, and here’s the name of the restaurant I told you about,” she said, sliding a piece of paper into my hand.
Strange, I hadn’t asked her about any restaurants, so I looked at the paper and saw it had a telephone number. I returned my gaze back to Charlotte’s beautiful glowing face, and she smiled and winked.
“Thank you, I would very much like to give that restaurant a try,” I said.
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”
“I know I won’t be.”
Tina, Todd, and I walked up the jetway and made our way through customs before finally reaching the main terminal. There, we exchanged information, and I made a pledge to keep them informed as to my progress in finding our lost friends. They headed for baggage claim, and I took a moment to look around and see if I could find any sign of the Latin menace. He had all but disappeared, so I turned back around just in time to see a woman about fifty feet away holding a cardboard sign that had my name handwritten on the front. I walked closer and saw that the woman here to greet me appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties and had dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and the well-tanned skin of someone who spent a fair amount of time in the sun. She was beautiful, and her heritage appeared to be Spanish and perhaps northern European, and, to make matters even more interesting, she also had quite a figure, which was made all the more obvious by her khaki short-shorts and loose fitting button up shirt that was open just enough to reveal her tight white tank top. On her feet were some low top hiking boots, and her outfit as a whole reminded me of Lara Croft from Tomb Raider, so she was obviously one of Professor Hitzig’s fellow professors, and perhaps even Miss Costa Rica. Either way, I was extremely happy there was at least someone to pick me up at the airport, and so I strolled over, smiled, and held out my hand.
“Hello, you must work with Professor Hitzig,” I said.
“I am Professor Hitzig,” she said, in lightly Spanish accented English as she shook my hand.
“Wow, I was expecting a middle aged man in khaki pants with greying hair and a distinguished beard.”
She smiled.
“Well, I was expecting a hippy academic with a ponytail, goatee, and a hacky sack in the back pocket of his REI all weather pants.”
“Touché, professor, but I’m not in academia, and the only sack you’ll find on my person is officially carrying my balls.”
She laughed.
“Well then, I’ll be sure not to kick it,” she said.
“I’d appreciate that,” I said, with a laugh.
“So, Dean Donald Delany said you were here to coordinate the search effort.”
“Yeah, I’m a private investigator, and finding missing persons is one of my specialties.”
“Ah, I see, and have you worked with the UCLA Archaeology Department before?”
“No, this is the first time.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Finn and welcome to Costa Rica.”
“Thank you, and please call me Tag or Finn, Mr. makes me feel more important than I could ever hope to be.”
“Tag it is, and please call me Alessandra. Professor or Doctor makes me feel more important than I could ever hope to be. Now, let’s gather your things, and I’ll take you over to the University.”
“The University? Wow, I guess Dean Donald Delany doesn’t want to waste any time. Who are we meeting?”
“No one until tomorrow. You just happened to be staying in visiting faculty housing, as we have reciprocal rights with UCLA, and it works out nicely at times like this.”
“Interesting, I haven’t spent an entire night on a college campus since my days at Stanford.”
“Then perhaps you’ll find the experience to be nostalgic.”
“Only if there’s lots and lots and lots of beer.”
“Oh, you’ll find plenty.”
“Then I imagine I’ll be right at home.”
We went to baggage claim and waited for my main suitcase. It ended up being fourth in line, and I grabbed it on the first pass before walking over to the special packages desk to pick up my pistol. The woman behind the counter was a sassy and very pretty brunette, though she went a little too heavy on the makeup for my tastes. Still, I couldn’t help but admire the view, and, oddly, she was also giving me the once over. After a long moment of mutual admiration, she leaned across the counter and handed me my gun, and my eyes instinctively flashed down to her generous cleavage, which was conveniently exposed by her airport uniform shirt’s top three buttons being left undone. I liked her relaxed uniform style, but I felt a little stupid when she caught me staring.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to gawk like a dickhead,” I said, as I quickly averted my eyes.
Oddly, she smiled and raised an eyebrow at me.
“No need to look away. I’m proud of what God has given me.”
“As you should be.”
“So, do you know that you’re the first person that’s brought a gun into the country since I started working here?”
“It’s just a precaution, as I’m on a search and rescue mission.”
“Do you really think Costa Rica is all that dangerous?” she asked.
“I certainly hope not.”
“Well, the only protection I think you’ll actually need is to have plenty of condoms.”
I laughed, and, at that very moment, Alessandra grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the counter.
“Are we in a hurry?” I asked.
“No, but you don’t need to waste any more time talking to Rose. Believe me, she flirts with all the men.”
“And how would you know that?”
“I’ve picked up a lot of men at the airport.”
“Interesting,” I said, with a questioning smile.
“Not like that. Obviously, I’m referring to visiting academics.”
“Yeah, that’s what I assumed you meant,” I said, innocently.
We had a moment of quiet then she looked at me with real concern in her eyes.
“So, more importantly, are you going to be able to keep that thing under wraps once we reach the campus.”
“Hey, I haven’t pulled out my penis on a college campus in at least a year or two.”
She didn’t laugh.
“Obviously, I’m talking about your pistol. It’s against the law to bring a firearm onto the University’s grounds, so I expect you to be extremely discreet.”
“No problem, I’m always extremely discreet.”
A voice called out from behind us.
“Excuse me, Mr. Finn?”
We both turned to see an official looking man approaching us, and I say official because he was wearing a suit and had the demeanor of a government employee. He was also somewhere in his thirties, fit, tall, and had a full head of chestnut colored hair as well as a nice tan, which I suspect meant he had been living i
n the sunny climate of Costa Rica for quite a while. Upon reaching us, he immediately held out his hand to shake.
“I’m John Greaves from the American embassy. We wanted to officially welcome you and make sure you were properly taken care of and had adequate accommodations.”
“Thank you, but, so far, Professor Hitzig here has been more than welcoming, and apparently I’m even staying in the visiting faculty housing at the University of Costa Rica.”
“Then I suspect you’ll have quite a view,” Greaves said.
“Yeah, if I’m lucky enough to be next to a sorority.”
We both laughed, but Alessandra didn’t find our little man banter as funny as we did and proceeded to stare at us until we quieted down. At that point, Greaves turned more serious as he spoke.
“So, I’ll need to get you up to speed on what we know so far about Chalupa and our missing people. When is a good time?” he asked.
I looked to Alessandra, as she was my official host.
“I have dinner plans with my grad students, so why don’t the two of you join us, and we can all talk tonight,” she said.
“When and where?” he asked.
“Seven, at a place down on La Calle de Amargura called the Tavarua Surf & Skate Bar.”
“Ah, the Street of Bitterness,” Greaves said.
“The street of what?” I asked.
“The street of bitterness. It’s a little area near the University that’s very popular with students and faculty,” Alessandra said.
“That seems like a terrible name for a place people go to enjoy themselves.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t seem to stem the flow of people,” she responded.
“All right then. The Street of Bitterness it is,” Greaves said.
“Excellent—I guess we’ll see you there.”
Greaves turned and walked towards a waiting Embassy car while Alessandra and I continued on our merry way to the parking garage. About a hundred yards away, she hit the unlock button on her key fob, and the lights on an olive green FJ Cruiser blinked. It was a car I had seriously thought about buying but had gone for the poncey Range Rover Sport instead, which was a decision I might regret if I experienced too many trips to the dealer for service. I threw my suitcase and gun in the back then saddled up in the passenger seat, and we pulled out of the airport parking lot and headed east towards the university, which resided a short distance away in the district of San Pedro. Only a few minutes passed, and we were pulling into the university, whose streets and sidewalks were swarming with college students. She parked in front of an off-white stucco building then turned her gaze to me.
“Home sweet home—for tonight at least, anyway.”
“Only tonight?” I asked.
“Tomorrow we’ll be going up to the Chalupa ruins and will likely spend the night onsite.”
“As in camping?”
“Yeah, it’s a pretty long drive, so it makes more sense to stay up there, though camping would be a little extreme a word. The researchers have a pretty nice temporary research facility, and their portable buildings have light, heat, water, and pretty much all the amenities of home.”
“All that’s missing are the occupants, apparently.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she said, sadly.
We walked inside the building and stopped at a desk off to the right that was manned by an elderly woman reading on her kindle. Alessandra said hello in Spanish, then they exchanged a number of words until the woman reached into the cabinet on the wall behind her and pulled out a room key. They exchanged a pleasant goodbye, and we continued on down the hallway to the stairs.
“It seems you get the deluxe penthouse suite,” she said.
Alessandra led the way up the stairs, and I was extremely lucky that my suite was on the third floor, as it gave me plenty of time to enjoy the view of the professor’s rather pert, round backside as it swayed back and forth in front of my eyes. By the time we reached my room, I was sporting a solid semi, and I had to secretly adjust my goodies in order to keep my enthusiasm safely contained in my pants. Meanwhile, Alessandra unlocked the door, then we entered to find a rather modern and very nicely appointed apartment. It had a large living room, full kitchen, lovely master bedroom, and a lounge, and all of these rooms overlooked the campus.
“This looks like a suite at the Ritz. What kind of visiting faculty do you usually get here?”
“All kinds, but this room is usually reserved for very special guests—politicians, dignitaries, and some very preeminent people.”
“So, now I’m preeminent.”
“Somebody apparently thinks so. Speaking of which, I was curious as to why it is that a representative of the American Embassy showed up to greet you personally at the airport. I thought you were working exclusively for UCLA.”
“I am, but I have some friends in the government that I assume called ahead to make sure everything went smoothly, and let’s face it—it’s not often that an entire team of American scientists goes missing in a friendly country.”
“True, as this whole Chalupa affair is extremely unusual.”
“To say the least.”
“Well, I’m going let you settle in while I make a run over to my office. How about if I come for you around six thirty?”
“Perfect, and since I’m a true gentleman, I’ll try and come at the same time or right after—say six thirty-one?”
It took her a moment, but she finally reacted to one of my stupid attempts at humor, only this time she actually smiled.
“That was stupid, but it almost bordered on funny.”
“I can live with almost.”
“Good, I’ll see you at six-thirty, Mr. Bond.”
Now it was my turn to smile, as every man in the world liked to be compared to the king of cool. Alessandra left, and I was thrilled to take some time for an adequate shower. I brought my bag into the bedroom then grabbed my toiletries and strolled into the bathroom, curious if it would be as nice as the rest of the suite. I wasn’t disappointed. The floor was a terra cotta colored tile while the walls were an eggshell shade of white, and the most important feature was the large glass enclosed shower and Jacuzzi tub. Truly civilized.
I was at last free to wash away the filth of my experience in the airplane lavatory, and so I stripped and stepped into the shower then soaped up and rinsed off before moving over to the Jacuzzi tub. Like the Japanese, I believed in bathing before entering a tub and had recently read an interesting though disgusting article that detailed the accumulation of feces in pools and Jacuzzis. If six people stepped directly into a bubbling spa, they could expect the total accumulation of fecal matter from their bodies to equal a tablespoon of poo, which was exactly one more tablespoon than I preferred. Once the tub was full of water, I eased in, then hit the button for the jets, and the water came alive with bubbles. I was truly relaxed, and I reveled in this little piece of paradise as the jets behind my back set to work on my knotted muscles. It was always a bitch sitting for long flights, which is why I had come to enjoy private air travel so much more as of late.
I leaned my head back against the built-in headrest, closed my eyes, and used the moment to process the last twenty-four hours. It had all started with that fucking phone call and led to this very moment. Weirdest of all was the encounter with Hector Gomez. Assuming someone knew I was coming, how is it they got Hector into place so quickly? That would take resources and contacts, but why waste them on a private investigator working for the Archaeology Department of UCLA. None of this affair made much sense, but I suppose I would find out those answers eventually. I reached over, turned up the jets, and cleared my mind by entering a virtual zen state that allowed me to recharge my mental batteries.
Minutes later, I thought I heard something and opened my eyes, and standing there, not ten feet away, was a seriously beautiful hazel eyed brunette. She appeared to be in her mid twenties and was wearing a short skirt and a loose fitting button up shirt over a tight tank top, and, as I gazed u
p at her face and took in her delicate features, I realized she seemed oddly familiar.
“¡Hola,” I said, from the tub.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry to intrude! I knocked but didn’t get any response,” she said, in excellent, though slightly Spanish accented English.
“It’s not your fault. I had the jets on high and couldn’t hear a thing. So, how can I help you?”
“Alessandra sent me over to make sure you had everything you needed.”
“Well, now that you’re here I guess I can cross extremely beautiful stranger off the list.”
She smiled.
“My sister said you were very charming.”
“That seems doubtful.”
“It’s true, and she also said you were good looking and, on rare occasions, almost funny.”
“Now that actually does sound like your sister—as it’s only a partial compliment.”
“Yeah, which is saying a lot, because my sister is a bit on the reserved and serious side.”
“Oh, so you’re a Hitzig.”
“Yes—Stephania Hitzig.”
“Nice to meet you, Stephania. I’m Tag Finn, though please call me Tag or Finn.”
“Tag it is.”
“So, Alessandra is obviously your older sister.”
“Yeah, and graduate advisor if you can believe it.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Depends on the day. Sometimes it’s good, and sometimes it’s bad, as family tend to expect a lot more from their own siblings.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I said.
As she stood there gazing back at me, I finally took into account that I was as naked as a newborn and therefore desperately needed, but didn’t have, a towel. Shit, no wonder Alessandra had sent Stephania to help me settle in.
“Um, actually there is something you can help me with,” I said.
“Let me guess—a towel?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes, in fact, I’d love one.”
“Right here,” she said, as she walked over and opened a cupboard and tossed me a tiny washcloth.
“Thanks,” I said, as I caught it then held it in front of my gentleman region as I stood up.
The Chalupa Conundrum Page 8