“Lars is mostly clean, though he’s pretty creative with his tax shelters.”
“Yeah, because he can afford to be.”
“You’re not exactly declaring all your Soft Taco Island money.”
“Of course not, but I used to be poor, so I inherently try harder to keep every last cent of my ill gotten gains.”
“Can you hold on—I dropped my tiny violin.”
A second later, I could hear Doug making his tiny violin sound, which was more akin to a mosquito when it buzzed past your ear.
“Hardy har har—fucking har.”
“Face it, Finn—your previous life of poverty was the trade off for you being good with the ladies, and now that you’re a man of means, you have no right to begrudge another of your ilk.”
“Jealousy only hurts the jealous, my friend. So, is that all you’ve got?”
“For now, but I’ll keep probing and see if something pops up.”
“Yeah, like you’re boner.”
“You mean like your boner, as you’re the one running around with all the hotties.”
“Guilty as charged, and, as you’ve been mostly unsuccessful, I’m hoping Beeber will find something interesting from that Sexstasy website.”
“Yeah, if he’s not slapping his ham while looking at that picture of Fabiana you sent.”
“True again—well, I suppose I should get going on my covert mission. You remember what I told you earlier?”
“Yeah, contact Greaves if you mysteriously disappear.”
“Good, now speaking of that picture I sent, you might as well FaceTime Beeber, so you two can have a good old fashioned online ménage à trois.”
“Wait, what picture?” Alessandra asked.
I held my iPhone away from my mouth and tried to cover the microphone before I answered.
“A picture of a monkey throwing its shit at a tourist. Doug and Beeber have a shit fetish.”
“Wait—what did you just say?” Doug asked.
“Nothing, I was just talking to the super hot archaeologist.”
“Fuck you! We don’t have a shit fetish!”
“Yeah, whatever, I gotta go,” I said.
“Yeah, go fuck yourself.”
“I will, and hopefully I can send more pictures.”
“Fuck you very much, man-whore.”
I laughed, hit the end button, and saw that Alessandra was gazing at me expectantly.
“So, what did you learn about Lars? Oh, let me guess. You can’t find any evidence of wrongdoing out there yet—can you?”
“Yet—the key word is yet.”
“You can keep trying, but you’re going to come up empty—believe me.”
I almost wished I could believe her, because it was never easy to take a down a billionaire. He would have an army of attorneys and a war chest equal to or greater than a small country’s gross national product. Unfortunately, her Lars-bear was my most likely candidate at the moment, as he had the means and opportunity, but I had yet to find a motive—other than money, and why did a billionaire need more money? I suppose I would find out eventually and perhaps even after our little secret visit to Chalupa and the Von Träger laboratory. For now, all I had was my scrot-sense, and Lars Ortega Von Träger made it tingle—and not in a good way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Two in the Bush
SIX O’CLOCK ROLLED around, and it was time to start heading northeast towards Chalupa. We exited my faculty apartment and loaded up in the FJ Cruiser with the jungle camo fatigues, my pistol, ammunition, lock pick set, duct tape, and various gadgets designed for bypassing electronic security. Additionally, and most important of all, we had my night vision goggles, which I hoped would put us on a level playing field if we encountered any more of King Chalupa’s evil minions. She pulled out of the parking lot, and I looked off to the west and saw rain clouds gathering on the horizon and hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come. The jungle was dangerous enough as it was, let alone during a massive downpour.
We navigated the fairly heavy evening commute traffic, and it took us a good twenty minutes to get free of the city. Once beyond the urban sprawl, the traffic thinned, and soon we were only one of a few vehicles climbing into the lush green mountains. Hot Sauce had her music playing, and she was bopping her head in time and singing along, but, on this drive, unlike the last one, we had a little less conversation. I once again cast my eyes upon my beautiful driver, and she abruptly sensed my gaze and looked over at me.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Other than the singing and dancing, you’re a lot quieter this time.”
“I’m just enjoying the drive.”
“Or avoiding talking about your little Lars-bear.”
“Not at all.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“OK, fine, then why don’t you tell me how you two got together.”
“Didn’t we already discuss this yesterday on the drive back?”
“No, I never got that part of the story.”
She looked conflicted, because she probably assumed I was trying to goad her into revealing some kind of hidden detail that might incriminate Lars, but she at last relented.
“As you may or may not know, Lars does a lot of work with the Department of Antiquities and National Museum of Costa Rica, and, as board members of both of those institutions, we crossed paths at a lot of functions. One week it was a dinner, the next a luncheon or cocktail party.”
“Was he with Fabiana at the time?”
“Yeah, they’ve been together for a couple years, but she was usually busy with her career and rarely if ever went to the events, so he was often alone.”
“And you kept him company?”
“Of course. He was an important member.”
“And had an important member.”
“If you’re going to make jokes, I’ll just stop right now.”
“OK—no more jokes. Keep going.”
“Well, over time, Lars and I got to know each other, and one thing led to another, and we just kind of fell in love.”
“Just kind of fell in love? Either you do or you don’t”
“We did, but it was complicated due to the nature of our working relationship.”
“And the fact that he had a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“So, I’m sorry if I’m beating a dead horse here, but if you and Lars are really in love, then what the hell was that little episode at the waterfall or the kiss under the stars after we left the lab?”
“Are you forgetting about the awesome sex at the camp,” she asked, with a teasing smile.
“No, I’ll likely never forget that—or any of it, actually.”
“Yeah, me neither, I’m afraid.”
“So, what gives? A person who’s truly in love doesn’t engage in those activities with a stranger,” I said.
“I thought we already postulated that I was acting out because I was frustrated with the secretive nature of my relationship with Lars.”
Interrogation often required asking the same question repeatedly over time and looking for discrepancies in the answers, and, so far, Hot Sauce had stayed true to her original responses, which meant I was mostly just being annoying.
“Well—I suppose in addition to your frustration, we were likely drugged, but, either way, I’m starting to think that I might have a problem with being attracted to overly complicated women.”
“Or I’m just attracted to overly complicated men.”
“Oh, are you saying that you’re attracted to me?”
“Didn’t I already say as much at the waterfall that day?”
“I’m not sure. Would you care to repeat it?”
“Nope,” she said, with a smile.
We came upon the Ranger station that marked the official entrance to Braulio Carillo National Park and continued on to the little hand painted sign for the Chalupa Ruins. Sunset was coming, so navigating the road in th
e dark would be no easy task, but thankfully we were only going a short distance in before continuing on foot, as it would help us conduct a more stealthy approach. A quarter mile later, we were almost to the valley floor when Hot Sauce pulled off the road and onto the remnants of an old trail. She turned off the FJ’s engine, and the world around us became eerily quiet except for the occasional flutter of nearby insects. Human existence was so noisy that we often took silence for granted, though right now it felt decidedly unnerving. Coming back up here seemed like a good idea until I was actually here and thinking about that unusual night with those creatures.
“Is this far enough away for you?” she asked.
“Yeah, so let the fun begin.”
We unloaded our things, put on our packs, and headed into the jungle, opting for a walking path that ran parallel to the main road. The ground was still wet and very slippery from a recent rainstorm, so progress was a wee bit slow. It didn’t help that the path was obviously not used very often and much of the vegetation around it had grown thick and impenetrable. Still, we soldiered on and made our way slowly into the valley. The sun eventually dipped below the far-off mountains, and the going became more difficult, as the shadows now held unseen obstacles. After two ferns to the face and one near-fall after tripping on an exposed root, I realized it was time to slow down and go into combat mode. This meant moving more slowly and methodically, and it made the jungle more manageable and our chances for personal injury a hell of a lot less likely.
The path headed towards a small stream that cascaded down through a series of large boulders, and crossing it entailed a four foot leap to land on a smooth section of rock on the other side. I leapt first and was followed by Alessandra, then we continued on until we were far enough away from the stream that the quiet sounds of the valley were again perceptible over the din of rushing water. In the distance, we heard vehicles coming up the dirt road, and we moved to an opening where we would have an unobstructed view of the valley below. A second later, Nate appeared in his white Jeep, bumping along with music blaring from his sound system. From a distance, it was hard to be sure, but I think he was listening to Beck’s Guerro album—truly a classic gem to any true music fans. Behind him was a Range Rover, though it was too dark to be sure of the color. That potentially left one more person at the lab, but hopefully he had already gone home, which would mean that we’d have no problem snooping around.
“Where do you think they’re headed?” I asked.
“Probably just going home or to one of the local towns for dinner.”
“Or meeting some college kids to pass off some Sexstasy.”
“I still find it hard to believe Nate could be involved.”
“Me too, but I saw it with my own eyes.”
“You saw him at a bar. It’s still circumstantial.”
“Perhaps.”
“What’s your scrot-sense tell you?”
“I’m not sure at the moment. My scrotum has been too inundated with female proximity to give me a clear signal.”
“Isn’t that the truth, and, speaking of which, what is going on with Fabiana? You’ve spent a lot of time giving me shit about Lars, yet haven’t said a word about your little fling with the supermodel.”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Good thing, because I have a feeling if you started talking about all your female exploits, I’d never hear the end of it, considering that you’re a man-whore.”
“Where in the fuck did that come from?”
“Why? Does the term man-whore bother you?”
“A little, as it’s kind of—um—well, it’s complicated.”
“Meaning?”
I knew if I answered, it would just add to my misery, so I tried to ignore it by remaining silent.
“Come on! I told you about Lars, so, now you have to tell me what the deal is with the term man-whore,” she said, even more emphatically.
“Well, technically a couple of female acquaintances have called me that over the last couple months, but Estelle was the first. You happy now?”
“Yes, and it gives me some insight into your relationship, or should I say relationships.”
Goddammit. I should have done this mission alone and never let Hot Sauce come along. Now, anytime I brought up Lars, I was bound to hear more shit about my relationship with Estelle. Three days—it only took her three days to find my soft spot and start poking it with the metaphorical stick of female curiosity. The lame part was that she was the one dating the bad guy, and, therefore, deserved to receive a goodly amount of shit. I was an innocent victim trying my best to do right by my ex and was getting an ear-load of torment for my troubles. To think that we evolved on this amazing planet for millions of years to become the apex life form, and we spend most of our time either talking a lot of shit or taking a lot of shit.
“You’re awfully quiet. What are you thinking about?” Alessandra asked.
“Shit, mostly.”
“So, shit—meaning actual shit, or shit—meaning something else?”
“Shit—meaning women.”
“That could be a lot of shit.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Well, man-whore, hopefully you can finish up thinking about that shit, as this shit is going to get a whole lot shittier as we try to find our way in the dark.”
“Don’t worry, home wrecker, as I’ve already moved past my shit and gotten my head fully on the shit that is our Chalupa night trek.”
We continued on, and the going was slow, but at least we were maintaining operational security if not operational sanity. We came to a slight rise, and there in the distance were the ruins of Chalupa, and the sparse light of the partial moon was making the top of the pyramid glow and stand out in stark contrast to the darkness of the surrounding jungle. This place was spooky during the day and fucking terrifying at night, as the less I could see, the more my mind filled in the blanks with its own interpretation. A tangle of ferns became a dangerous wild animal, and a shadow from a tree became the outline of a half-man, half-beast demon creature. It was mental chaos, and it took all of my years of training to stay focused and on track.
The valley was dark, quiet, and, more importantly, devoid of any outsiders like the man they had tried to capture the day before. They had failed, but at least now they were free to focus on the task at hand, which was to retrieve the victim for the night’s ceremony. She was one of the girls from the village, and, at the moment, she was asleep in her bed, blissfully unaware of the impending danger.
The creatures continued to move silently through the darkness, and, as usual, animals sensed their presence and scattered in fear, clearing the path ahead of them of all but the jungle foliage itself. They were approaching the sacred pyramid when the creature leading the way heard something a short distance away and stopped. It took a moment to listen, and, not hearing anything, signaled for the group to continue moving towards the village.
We finally cleared the dense jungle and arrived at the base of the pyramid, and I paused when I thought I heard something a short distance away.
“What is it?” Alessandra asked.
“Not sure. I thought I heard something.”
“Is your scrot-sense tingling more than usual?”
“Yeah, but it’s been that way since we arrived here, so it’s hard to know if it’s from something specific.”
We stayed still and listened intently for a moment but didn’t hear anything unusual.
“Probably just my mind playing tricks on me,” I said.
We walked around the pyramid and moved cautiously through the ruins before finding ourselves back in the camp. From there it would only be a short walk to the Von Träger Lab if we took the main road, but I was hoping to avoid being detected by any of the locals.
“Any back ways to the lab?” I asked.
“The Chalupan people have been here for more than a thousand years, so this area is full of trails, but the fact that it’s dark would make it especially difficult
to find them. To that end, I think the road will be faster and easier.”
Interestingly, I’d gone on Safari in Africa and learned that the animals on the Game Preserve, just like the tourists coming to see them, all used the roads, because it made traveling a hell of a lot easier than scraping though a dense jungle or forest. So, I saw my first wild lions on a dirt road not unlike the one that ran from the ruins to the lab.
“Yeah, good thinking, but if we see or hear anything resembling humans or evil minions, I think we should immediately scurry into the bushes.”
“Agreed.”
We walked to the road, and, as we headed east, the partial moon provided enough illumination that I decided we should keep to the left side where we were safely hidden in the shadows of the overhanging trees. Around us, the quiet sound of the scurrying animals and buzzing insects was the only thing to disturb the overwhelming solitude until we reached the fence line of the Lab. There, we discovered the main gate was still open, and not a single vehicle was in the parking lot. Finally we had a little luck on our side.
“I wonder where the third nerd is, as he wasn’t part of that little convoy we saw,” I said.
“He probably just headed out earlier.”
“Yeah, so hopefully we’ll have this place to ourselves.”
I turned my attention to the lab and studied its layout in order to form an insertion plan. The main entrance was about fifty meters away with no cover in sight, and, worse still, the front of the building was illuminated by a flood light and covered by a wide angle security camera. I was guessing that the camera feed probably led to an offsite security station, perhaps near Lars’s estate, where it would likely have someone monitoring it for assholes such as us. Sure, we were out in the middle of nowhere, but industrial espionage was a very real and present danger, so it only made sense that Lars would make sure his secret new drugs remained exactly that—secret.”
“Well now, James Bond, any thoughts about how we’re going to get inside?” she asked.
“I’m working on it.”
I brought up the layout of the place in my mind and remembered there had been a security camera around the back, but it was motorized and obviously had a smaller field of view. Unlike the front, the back had obstacles and places for us to hide, but it also had a number of large pipes entering the building, and, where there was plumbing, there was usually access.
The Chalupa Conundrum Page 37