“I have, and it’s pretty fucking weird. We’ve been out here more or less every day for the last three years and never had anyone go missing.”
“Then I take it you’ve never seen King Chalupa and his minions?”
He laughed out loud.
“No, afraid not, though I will admit that this place is a little spooky after dark.”
“Do you have any personal theories on how an entire team of researchers could have disappeared?”
“Other than aliens, the only thing I could guess would be that they wandered off into the jungle and got lost. I’m not exaggerating when I say you could go twenty feet in and suddenly have no idea where you are.”
“Yeah, I would agree with you on that point, except these people were here for over a month before they disappeared.”
“True, but that would leave foul play as your next most viable solution, and it’s highly unlikely, as Costa Rica is relatively crime free. In fact, statistically, it’s safer than the United States,” he said.
“Which unfortunately takes us back to King Chalupa and his minions,” I said, jokingly.
“Which sounds more like a Scooby Doo Mystery,” Nate responded.
“Scooby Doo—funny—you’re the second person to mention that,” Alessandra said.
“I guess you didn’t see the cartoons as a kid,” Nate responded.
“No, afraid not.”
“Too bad, they were awesome.”
“Yeah, I used to watch it every day after school,” I said.
“Me too, but on Scooby Doo, every time they had a mystery with some kind of monster or ghost, there was always a logical explanation at the end,” Nate said.
“Yeah, and it was usually that fucker Mr. Dithers, and he would have gotten away with it too, were it not for those pesky kids.”
Nate and I laughed, but Alessandra remained unmoved.
“I guess you had to have watched them to understand,” I said.
I looked back down the hall to one of the few sections of the lab that were enclosed by opaque walls.
“What’s over there? Secret stuff?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s Dr. Wainright’s area, and it’s codenamed Project H, and he keeps a real tight lid on his research.”
“Sounds mysterious. Hopefully it’s a new over the counter variant of Viagra that will give men the ability to have multiple orgasms.”
“That’s definitely a drug you don’t need,” Alessandra said, giving me a playful pinch on the arm.
It was an oddly flirtatious gesture and one that made me pause for thought until Nate broke the silence.
“Well, you’ve seen my nook, how about we continue the tour. There are still some interesting areas that aren’t off limits.”
“Sure,” I said, looking to Alessandra for approval.
She nodded, and we turned and headed off the main hallway and entered an amazing greenhouse complete with a flowing stream, plants, and insects, and at the far end there was a door to another closed off area.
“What’s in there?” I asked.
“A pump station to bring water into the lab. It also allows us to monitor the local water supply for any kind of industrial contaminants.”
“Do you get any way out here?”
“Not yet, thankfully, but it never hurts to look.”
I remembered the weird pipe up at the waterfall.
“Oh, do you have an inlet up at the Chalupa Waterfall?” I asked.
“I imagine we do, though I’d be amazed if you spotted it? We generally do a pretty good job of hiding them so they don’t intrude on the natural settings.”
“Don’t worry. It’s well hidden. I just have an almost pathological eye for unusual details,” I said, though I left out that it was usually directed towards the female anatomy rather than water monitoring systems.
We turned and headed back towards the main hallway and ran into a rather stern faced man in his middle forties. He had brown hair flecked with grey, wore glasses, and sported a pristinely white lab coat over his khaki pants and button up shirt.
“Hello, Dr. Wainright. This is Tag Finn, and I believe you already know Professor Hitzig,” Nate said.
The man looked uncomfortable in our presence, as he was perhaps harboring a little social anxiety or a mild case of agoraphobia.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Finn and always a pleasure Professor Hitzig,” he said, with a rather proper British accent.
“Would you like to explain what you’re working on to our guests?” Nate asked Wainright.
“No, I’m afraid that’s a company secret, and it would require both of you to sign a nondisclosure agreement. If I may ask, what brings you here today?” Wainright asked, sounding slightly annoyed.
“I’m overseeing the search for the UCLA scientists. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”
“Afraid not,” he said, rather curtly, though there was something in his voice that made me unsure of his sincerity.
“It’s almost a mystery within a mystery that so few people know what happened in that camp,” I said.
“Not really, we’re in an area with an extremely low population density, so I think it would be more unusual if there were any witnesses,” he said.
“Interesting way to look at it.”
“Well, I’d love to stay and talk, but I should be getting back to my lab.”
A voice rang out from behind us, and we all turned a hundred and eighty degrees to see a man approaching.
“Don’t pay any attention to Henry, as he’s always a little anti-social at the lab,” the man said.
He walked over and joined us, and a large smile formed on his face as he regarded Alessandra.
“Hello, Professor Hot Sauce! It’s always a pleasure to see you,” he said, in slightly accented English.
He was Hispanic, handsome, charming, and had an athletic physique and neatly trimmed goatee that made me think of him as a modern day Zorro sans the mask, cape, and foil. He was close to six feet tall, probably in his early forties, and had a nicely quaffed head of dark brown hair that framed his unusually light blue eyes.
“Nice to see you too, Dr. Tlijii.”
“Please, you know I prefer you call me Ernesto,” he said, before kissing her on the lips.
It appeared they knew each other pretty well, or he was just one of those latin lover types who used greetings as an opportunity to get a little touchy with the ladies. Sadly, I’d been born with blue eyes, the fair skin of Irish and Scottish parents, and, more importantly, a zealous respect for personal space, so I would have never been so forward with my greetings.
“What brings you to our little corner of the jungle?” he asked.
“I’m here escorting this gentleman around the ruins, as he’s in charge of the search for the UCLA team,” she responded.
He immediately turned his attention to me and smiled genuinely as he held out his hand.
“And you are?”
“Finn, Tag Finn,” I said, as I shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Finn. I’m Ernesto,” he said.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ernesto, now, where’s my kiss?” I asked.
“Sorry, you’ll just have to accept my humble handshake until I get to know you better.”
We all laughed, and I realized Ernesto, unlike Wainright, actually had a sense of humor.
“What’s your specialty here, Ernesto?”
“Technically, the same as these two, as I’m also a lab geek.”
“Hardly, Ernesto here is a Doctor of Botany and Biochemistry and is the head of operations for Von Träger Pharmaceuticals,” Nate said.
“And you still come all the way out here to the lab? That’s dedication,” I said.
“What can I say? It’s where I started at Von Träger oh so many years ago, and, while I have technically become one of the suits, my heart will always be here.”
“In this actual lab?” I asked.
“Yes, and, though w
e have labs all over Central and South America, this one is my baby.”
“You have a lovely baby.”
“Thank you, though it hasn’t always been so grand. Three years ago, I had it completely rebuilt and expanded, and now it’s state of the art.”
“I got that impression from the tour.”
There was a brief lull in the conversation, then Alessandra spoke.
“Well, it was nice seeing you all, but Finn and I should get going, so you guys can get back to work curing the world’s diseases.”
“But you’ve only just gotten here,” Ernesto said, plaintively.
“I know, but it’ll be getting dark soon, and we have to figure out dinner arrangements at the camp,” she said.
Ernesto thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up, and he snapped his fingers.
“How about I come by and bring dinner?” he suggested.
Alessandra looked to me for approval, and I nodded.
“Sounds good!” she said.
“Me too, but you might want to bring enough to feed King Chalupa and his minions.”
Ernesto laughed out loud.
“Please don’t tell me that you two, a renowned archaeologist and a private investigator, are buying into that ridiculous legend,” he said.
“Well, as silly as it sounds at the moment, it’s our most likely scenario to explain the disappearance of the UCLA team.”
“And the most ridiculous. Believe me, I’ve spent more than half of my life out here, and the only thing I’m afraid of are the insects and the snakes.”
“Unless you have some insects and snakes around here that are big enough to carry off an entire camp of humans, it’s looking as though it’s our only possibility—kind of like that old Sherlock Holmes adage—once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”
“I suppose anything is possible,” Ernesto said, with a chuckle.
“Well, thank you for the tour, Nate, and it was nice seeing you again, Dr. Wainright,” Alessandra said.
“Indeed,” he said, dryly.
“So, Ernesto, we’ll see you for dinner in an hour or so?” she asked.
“Sí, and I’ll bring some alcoholic beverages as well.”
Nate led us out to the anteroom, and we said goodbye and stepped out into the warm Costa Rican evening. The sun was hanging just above the mountains to the west, and the birds and insects were starting into their early evening choir. As we headed for the FJ Cruiser, I made a left turn, and we circled around the back of building to find the area that housed the pump station. Coming out of the ground and entering the building were a series of two-inch diameter pipes, and I could hear the water flowing through them and, based on their layout, realized that half were probably for inflow while the other half were for outflow.
“Where do you think the outflow goes?” I asked.
“Probably rejoins the river it was diverted from. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. Seems like they’re moving a lot of water.”
“Don’t forget that they’re testing for contaminants, and there are a lot of rivers in this valley.”
“I suppose.”
Just before I turned to leave, I heard an electronic sound and looked up to see one of the building’s security cameras pointing in our direction. Whoever was at the controls was probably wondering what we were up to or just getting another look at Professor Hot Sauce’s lovely flesh accoutrements. I know that’s what I’d be doing. I waved at the camera, then we turned and walked to the FJ Cruiser and were soon back on the road and heading to the camp. Nightfall was drawing ever closer, and deep shadows were now stretching across the jungle floor and making the journey even more treacherous.
“So, what do you think of Ernesto?” I asked.
“I like him. He’s a nice guy.”
“He is, but don’t you find him to be a little touchy feely?”
“Ah, you’re referring to the kiss. Well, don’t worry, because all Latin men are a little touchy feely. It’s in their blood.”
“So, if I weren’t a blue eyed fair skinned man, it would be OK to kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that racist?”
“No, because then you would be someone else, and not the person already emotionally attached to another woman.”
“Wait, I’m getting confused. I can’t kiss you because I’m emotionally attached to someone else, but Ernesto can.”
“Yes.”
“But, we don’t know that he’s not emotionally attached to someone else, which brings us back to the fact that you’re prejudiced against me because I’m not Latin.”
“OK, fine, here it is. I am prejudiced against you.”
“Ha! I knew it.”
“It’s not because of your lack of Latin blood. It’s because—well—it’s because I could actually fall for you, so, we can’t kiss because it might actually mean something.”
I had to take a second to digest her last statement and couldn’t help but smile when I finally responded.
“Interesting, so it’s not just because you have a boyfriend or that I’m pining for my ex.”
“No, it’s not, so you may now feel free to shut the fuck up, as I’m done giving away any more intimate details.”
“Yet,” I responded.
I sat and stared out at the passing countryside and quietly ruminated on our latest discussion, but came out of my reverie when I saw something peculiar in the bushes.
“Stop the car!” I said.
Alessandra slammed on the brakes, and we skidded to a halt.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I saw something.”
“Person or animal?”
“Not sure, I only got a glance.”
I stepped down from the FJ and walked back a few yards to gaze into the jungle. My scrot-sense was on full alert, so I drew my pistol and moved carefully to the edge of the road and paused and relaxed my eyes so that I could focus on everything within my peripheral vision. Movement brought my attention to a spot about forty feet away to where I spied an area that looked slightly different from the surrounding jungle. It was kind of like looking at one of those visual puzzles that entailed staring until your eyes adjusted and revealed a secondary image hidden within the lines and colors. The longer I stared, the more the thing materialized from its surroundings, but it blended so perfectly that I couldn’t be sure if it was actually some kind of creature or an optical allusion. I therefore needed to perform a test, so I raised my pistol and aimed at a tree just to the right of it and squeezed off a round. The gun coughed, and a split second later the bullet impacted a tree with a sharp crack, and it caused the thing to drop out of view and disappear. I decided to follow and moved farther out into the jungle.
“Finn! What the hell are you doing? You’re probably chasing a Jaguar,” Alessandra yelled.
I reached the spot where it had been and looked down at the ground but couldn’t find any prints from a Jaguar or anything else for that matter. I’d been all over the world and spent some serious time on safari, so I knew animal prints when I saw them. This place, however, was clean, and that didn’t make sense because the soil was soft and pliable. I leaned down and looked closer, and I finally saw an extremely slight indentation, and it didn’t look human or animal. My scrot-sense was still on high alert, but I could perceive no immediate danger, so perhaps the jungle was just starting to play tricks on my mind. Staring into a landscape like this was like looking at a sky full of clouds, and eventually the brain would start seeing familiar shapes, but those shapes weren’t supposed to run and hide when you shot a bullet near them. I returned to the FJ and took a last look back into the jungle but saw nothing but the dense thicket of greenery. The sky was growing darker by the second, and something, perhaps my scrot-sense, was telling me it was time to get rolling and back to the relative safety of the camp.
The man had been more observant than the creature expected, and it bel
ieved, unwisely, that it was safely hidden from view—that is, until the man pulled out his weapon and fired. The impact had been only inches away from its head, but, fortunately, its reflexes were fast, and it managed to drop down and slip away into the jungle and safely out of the man’s view. Again, they had underestimated him, but they would return later under the cover of darkness—and in greater numbers.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jezebel Cocktease
WE ARRIVED AT the camp about five minutes later then set about getting ready for our romantic dinner with Ernesto the Kissing Bandito. I went to the generator room and fired up one of the diesel beasts then hit the power breaker for the camp’s various electronics. While I was there, I also noticed a bundle of electrical cables leading in on another circuit and decided to follow it and see where it connected. It led to the Econoline van I’d seen in the parking area, and, upon climbing onto the bumper, could see that it had a decent sized array of solar panels across its roof. I decided to look inside and, as expected, found the panels were connected to a bank of heavy duty batteries, so it would appear that the UCLA scientists had not one, but two sources of electricity, yet both had failed on the night in question. An electromagnetic pulse might be able to accomplish that feat, but could a ghost king and his evil minions cross the ethereal plane of existence and sabotage items that were over a thousand years beyond their apparent understanding? It seemed unlikely, but it was yet another unusual occurrence to add to this fucking mystery.
I left the van and returned to the guest quarters where we had stored our things and discovered that Alessandra had showered and already changed into a frilly little evening dress. It was red, thin, silky, and hung down to about her middle thigh, and it made quite a point of revealing her lovely figure. Of course, I couldn’t help but think back to the waterfall, and that, combined with the dress, was making Tag Junior want to do a little happy dance in my pants.
“Wow, someone is dressed to impress this evening,” I said.
“This? It’s just a basic evening dress.”
“Basic, as in basically amazing.”
“Well, we are having company, so I thought it only right to dress up a little for the occasion.”
The Chalupa Conundrum Page 20