He stopped walking and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling.
For a horrible moment, Madalina thought word had come through of Brandon’s demise. Cole’s expression flattened, grew even grimmer than it had been. The tension in the room felt thick enough to cut. She braced herself for bad news, stomach in turmoil at the thought that Brandon had been killed.
“Every day I’m gone is one more day Brandon’s subjected to their . . . company,” Cole said into the phone.
Puzzled over the change in Cole’s demeanor and tone, she stepped closer.
“Not really, Thaddeus. It’s a damn wild-goose chase, as far as I can tell. I really don’t know what we’ll find. And it’s just wasting time if we go all that way and wind up with ‘clues’ that we can’t unravel,” he said.
Madalina understood immediately. Thaddeus wanted them to go to Brazil and locate the dragon. There were no solid leads on Brandon (who must still be alive, thank God), and so Thaddeus had taken the next logical step. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Not under these circumstances. Her grandfather couldn’t have known that his playful mystery would result in abductions and a fight for possession of the dragons. She also wasn’t sure what they would find at the address Walcot had left behind. All indications suggested she should follow a few clues to get the answers she needed. Cole’s assessment of a wild-goose chase was probably dead-on.
“All right. Half an hour,” Cole said, then severed the call.
“He wants us to go to Brazil, doesn’t he?” Madalina asked.
Cole met her gaze. “If he can’t get a lead on the agents or Brandon in the next half hour, we’ll leave immediately for Rio.”
Cole folded the last article of clothing into the single duffel bag on the bed. He’d combined his and Madalina’s belongings to keep the baggage to a minimum, glad that she’d not fought him to take a ton of womanly accoutrements. A little makeup, two pairs of shoes and clothes—that was all she’d brought him. That was all he’d asked for. This trip was less about enjoying whatever discoveries Walcot had in store for Madalina and more about getting hard, fast answers. It meant forgoing lavish dinners, upscale bars, and other high-end entertainment. They wouldn’t need formal gowns and three-piece suits.
Not this time.
He meant to get there and back as quick as he could while Thaddeus continued to try and pinpoint Brandon’s location. The sooner his brother was free of the agents, the easier he could breathe.
“Is there anything else we should do before we go?” Madalina asked.
“I think we’ve got everything. Passports, identification, cash. Clothes. Thaddeus got us last-minute flights out of Los Angeles International, so we need to get on the road.” Cole slung the strap over his shoulder. “He wasn’t able to glean any information on the agents or Brandon, unfortunately.”
“I figured. I’m ready to go.”
Cole led the way out of the bedroom, snapping off lights as he went. “There’s something I want to go over with you before we get on the plane. It’s a commercial flight, not first class, so I don’t want to discuss things like this where other people might hear.”
“All right. What is it?” she asked, trotting down the stairs behind him.
Unconvinced that the agents wouldn’t make another attempt on the house, he remained watchful as he led Madalina to the front door and out onto the porch. He locked the door behind them. Somewhere in the housing community, a lawn mower droned on, while a dog barked at intervals. Their particular street was quiet, with no sign of other residents. Cole scanned the yards and bushes of his neighbors, holding on to Madalina with one hand. He didn’t reply until he had Madalina safely ensconced in the car, with the bag stowed in the back.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, he started the car and said, “I want to talk about contingency plans. If something happens while we’re in Brazil—I’m not going to conjecture what might or could happen, but you get the gist—then I want you to take the money I gave you earlier and get back to the airport. Take the first flight you can get to Rhode Island and call this number.” He paused to recite Thaddeus’s cell-phone number.
“But, wait—”
“Recite the number,” he said, coaxing her to memorize the digits.
Madalina dutifully did as he asked. Before she could launch into protest, he went on. “I don’t want you to come looking for me or trying to do something heroic. Got it?”
“You’re not talking something as simple as getting lost or separated,” she said with a glance sideways.
He pulled the Jaguar onto the street and cruised toward the front gates. “I’m talking if catastrophe strikes and you think I’m in a fix I can’t get out of. Like if I get shot, or I die—”
“Cole!”
“Look. I know it’s hard to talk about, but it’s smarter to have plans in place. Trust me. If the agents suddenly show up for whatever reason—like, say, they’ve been leading us on, just using us to get closer to the dragons—and take me out, then you don’t think twice. You get a taxi, get back to the airport, and head for Rhode Island. Thaddeus will know what to do. He can help you.” He met Madalina’s unhappy gaze across the car. It was important to him that she understand and agree.
“I can’t just leave you if something like that happens,” she said, a note of defiance in her voice. “You wouldn’t leave me if something went wrong.”
“Recite the number,” he said. He needed to make sure she didn’t forget while they were talking about contingency plans.
Madalina recited the number almost as if it was an afterthought. Immediately after, she said, “Right? You wouldn’t leave me if the situation was reversed.”
Cole left the housing development and took to the roads. He needed to hit the freeway and make good time if they were going to catch their flight. Checking the rearview and side mirrors for any sign of trouble, he said, “I’m professionally trained, and I have resources that I can tap if I have to. I know how to fight, how to track, how to attack. That’s a whole different story. Just promise me you’ll do as I ask. I need to know you have a backup plan if it all goes to hell.”
“You don’t make this easy sometimes,” she said, like it was an understatement.
“Recite the number,” he repeated, and almost laughed when she huffed.
“That’s a great way for you to get out of answering me,” she retorted.
“You didn’t ask a question,” he pointed out.
“Semantics.”
“Recite the number,” he insisted.
She did.
CHAPTER SIX
Madalina had never quite encountered the scene that greeted her from the taxi windows. Leaving the high-rises and sparkling downtown of Rio de Janeiro behind, the driver guided her and Cole into twisting roads surrounded by shack homes clustered so close together that she couldn’t tell one from the next. A riot of faded, chipped color decorated the sometimes crooked walls, adding more chaos to an already chaotic landscape. Some of the roofs were metal, some plastic, others nothing more than a tarp secured with rope to fend off the weather. The slums stretched up a foothill, rising as the ground did, though the only greenery Madalina saw in this particular section were a few scraggly plants that people grew for food. Boys approached the beat-up taxi whenever it came to a stop, trying to sell Styrofoam cups of water or loose pieces of candy. Most appeared poor, with mismatched clothing and no shoes.
She had a difficult time fathoming the utter dissonance between the high-rises and the stacks of shack homes located just outside the city. To think that her grandfather had lived here shocked her. He who tended to seek the solace of barren landscapes or tropical hideaways far from the flux of humanity couldn’t have been at home here. Not in these grimy streets bustling with endless activity and noise. Yet the taxi continued to wind through the narrow streets, ever upward, until it came to a stop before a row of ye
llow-green-orange homes attached together like Legos. More homes were attached to the sides and upper back half, creating a veritable maze of doors, windows, roofs, rope, and fat water barrels to catch the rain. In between some of the jam-packed shacks were skinny staircases leading to more homes, with entrances not visible from the street. Although the sun had risen less than two hours ago, the citizens were out en masse, curiously staring at the taxi and the occupants within.
“Ready?” Cole asked, opening the door.
“I think so.” Madalina couldn’t hide her surprise. This was the last place she’d expected to end up. Cole was currently unreadable, his neutral expression giving nothing away. Despite his brusque nature, he shielded her with his body as she disembarked, his gaze hopping from one point on the street to the next.
She realized belatedly that he was looking for suspicious activity. The agents had set them on a course, true, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more agents waiting here to attack if they thought she had found another dragon. Just as Cole had suggested when he’d badgered her into memorizing Thaddeus’s phone number.
Cole picked up the only duffel bag they’d brought with them and closed the door to the taxi. He had a brief, quiet word with the driver, passed over an undisclosed amount of local currency, and guided her toward a narrow set of stairs.
“The driver says this address is up two flights. The number should be embedded on the wall to the left,” Cole said.
“I cannot believe that my grandfather lived here,” she whispered over her shoulder, giving voice to her thoughts. She ascended the narrow stone steps, following a natural curve around one of the houses. Cole had suggested they wear clothing appropriate for the trip: jeans, shoes with good traction, and nondescript shirts. Madalina had chosen a lightweight, zippered sweatshirt to add to her attire. The color almost matched the gray of Cole’s short-sleeved tee.
“These areas are called favelas,” Cole said. “I’m a little surprised myself.”
Coming up to an oval-shaped door on the left, Madalina paused to check the little tiled numbers embedded into the wall.
They matched the numbers of Walcot’s address.
Taking the key from her pocket, feeling Cole press closer against her back, she opened the door. She almost wasn’t sure she wanted to see what waited within. A musty smell permeated the entire area around the houses, as if rainwater had collected in puddles and remained stagnant for weeks.
To her surprise the interior of the one-room shack wasn’t as filthy as she worried it would be. The floor was made of mismatched stone, the walls of weathered wood. The wall to the right of the door appeared somewhat warped, which her grandfather had attempted to hide with the drape of a sheer curtain. A tiny table sat square in the middle of the space, accompanied by a single chair. Madalina’s heart turned over at the thought of her grandfather sitting alone with his coffee or eating meals with just himself for company. A small kitchenette sat along the back wall, consisting of a minuscule sink, a two-burner stovetop oven, and two narrow cabinets. Walcot’s sleeping quarters amounted to a skinny cot positioned to the left.
These were the sparsest living conditions Madalina could imagine. Campers in tents had more luxuries than this.
She located and snapped on the nearest light switch. Of two overhead fixtures, only one worked. Diffused yellow light spilled throughout the room, highlighting the door to a two-by-four bathroom—which turned out to be as rudimentary as everything else—and a bench seat below the only window.
Cole closed the door behind her, set the duffel bag on the table, and began to search. He said, “There’s got to be another note or a box or a key or something somewhere. Let’s find it.”
Or the Rain Dragon, Madalina thought. Splitting off from Cole, she started her own search near Walcot’s bed. She found nothing around or under the single pillow or under the thin blanket he’d folded and put on the end. Sweeping her fingers beneath the cot, she sought a taped paper or envelope or box.
Nothing.
“It’s not in the bathroom,” Cole announced. He had to twist his shoulders to fit through the slim doorway.
“Not on or under his bed, either,” she said. “His letter stated that he’d hidden the box here somewhere, untouched for years. I’m trying to picture where that would be that isn’t out in the open.”
“Maybe the bench seat.” Cole strode across the room and gingerly pried at the faded green cushion. It gave, and a lid creaked upward. He shot a glance her way.
Madalina hurried over to peer down into the dark space beneath the seat. Not able to see into every corner, she crouched and felt around, sure that this was where they’d discover either the box, the dragon, or a note.
Instead, she found nothing.
“Maybe this was too conspicuous,” she said after a moment. “Anyone who got in here looking for an object would eventually search the bench.”
“You didn’t feel any secret compartments in there, right? No little latches or loose panels?” Cole asked.
“I didn’t, no. Maybe you should look.”
Cole did so, thoroughly examining the corners and even under the padding itself. He found no more than she had. “Not here,” he announced.
Madalina, still crouched, turned on the soles of her shoes to stare out across the room. “Okay. You search the kitchen, and I’ll do the table and chair.”
Cole lowered the cushioned lid and headed to the kitchen without a word.
Madalina spent ten minutes on the table and chair. “There’s just nothing here.”
“Not finding anything in the kitchen, either. He had the bare minimum of pots and utensils, and the three drawers have no hidden compartments or niches. I looked under the sink, everywhere. Unless the latches are invisible and unnoticeable by touch, it’s not in the kitchen,” Cole said.
Straightening, Madalina brushed her hands together and surveyed the room. “He traveled as light as you do, so most of his personal belongings would have probably gone with him in his backpack. I mentioned sometime ago that he pretty much lived out of it. Still, I’m surprised to see so few personal touches. I guess he didn’t spend more time here than he had to.”
“That would be my guess. Either that, or he was happy living such a Spartan lifestyle.” Cole, expression as grim as it had been when he’d learned of Brandon’s situation, panned a look around the room. “It doesn’t give us any clues as to where he hid that box, though.”
Madalina tore her gaze off Cole and swept a look around the room as well. There was something forlorn about the home that tugged at Madalina’s heartstrings. Walcot could have lived close to his daughter and granddaughter all these years, yet chose this of all places to call home.
She didn’t understand.
Yes, Walcot had been known to travel for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. He’d made it clear he preferred to be on the move, “living life to the fullest.” It still felt wrong, this lonely abode in the midst of a slum. “Well, let’s look at the clues from the note. Maybe we’re missing something. He rambled on about his time in Tibet, his meditation sessions on the plateau—which is so far removed from this scenario it’s not even funny—and his friend who he never named. He made a point to talk about the dragons and to suggest that he would lead me on a journey of discovery.”
In her attempt to get inside her grandfather’s mind, Madalina voiced her thoughts aloud, hoping to trip or trigger a memory that might help. “He talked about hiding the box here for years—wait.” A sudden thought struck her. She glanced around the room, then went back to the cot.
“What? What did you remember?” Cole asked, coming up behind her.
Madalina scooted the cot away from the wall. The legs screeched across the stone floor.
“You said you already checked the cot,” Cole said, reminding her.
“I did. The whole thing. But I didn’t check the floor.”
She pushed the end of the cot away, exposing the stone floor beneath.
Cole proved to be as agile-minded and sharp as ever, jumping immediately to the right conclusion. “The floor. That’s where his friend buried the original box. Under a rock, in the dirt. Good thinking.”
“Yes. Exactly. He wouldn’t leave the box in the bench, or somewhere else ‘hidden’ that would be obvious to someone searching. I bet he buried it, like his friend did.” Madalina, energized by the idea, began pressing on individual stones with her fingertips, looking for one that didn’t sit flush with the others or that felt loose when touched.
Near the wall, one twelve-inch section lifted at an edge when she pushed down. “Cole! Maybe this is it.”
“I’m watching. It looks like it’ll lift right up,” he said over her shoulder.
Madalina removed the piece of stone, exposing a medium-size hole beneath. She caught her breath when a carved box came into view. Wooden, with intricate detailing on the surface, the box measured perhaps nine inches long by seven inches wide. Big enough, she thought, to house another dragon. Or two. With care, she cupped her hands underneath the box and pulled it out of the hole.
“That’s got to be it,” Cole said. “Bring it to the table and let’s see what’s inside.”
Madalina, of the same mind as Cole, was already pushing to her feet. Carrying the box to the table, she set it down and opened the lid. She didn’t expect to be as breathless with anticipation as she was. If they found the Rain Dragon this quickly, they could take the artifact back to California and exchange it for Brandon.
Instead of a dragon, she found a folded note inside.
“Dammit,” Cole said.
Madalina wasted no time. She unfolded the paper and began to read.
My dear Madalina,
What do you think of Brazil so far? It is such a wondrous mix of old and new. The people, the scents, the textures are fascinating. I spent time here when I was a younger man, before the city became quite so built up and busy. Although I usually prefer quieter, more introspective places, I do like to spend time in the bustling markets and towns where technology has not taken over. There is much to learn in every scenario.
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