Panama Pursuit

by Andreas Oertel

  “How the heck are we supposed to get home?” Ben pointed across the water to the dock. “This bozo took our canoes back.”

  I squinted over the water and saw our two canoes lined up on the shore with the other two canoes. Well that’s just great!

  The big man ignored Ben and pulled a leech from an arm that was as thick as a telephone pole.

  “Hey!” Eric said. “We’re talking to you. How are we—”

  “I will take you back,” he said with a heavy accent. We watched him pull off another leech and crush it under his heel.

  “We’re not going anywhere with you,” Rachel said.

  The big man sighed and pulled out a cell phone. He pressed a single button and waited. He talked to someone briefly and then passed the phone to me.

  I didn’t want to take the call, but my hand seemed to automatically reach for it. I held it to my ear. “Ahh... hello?”

  “Is this Cody?” a voice asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, wondering how he knew my name.

  “This is Mr. Anton Zola.”

  “Okay.” I stared across the water at his yacht, wondering if he was watching me.

  “Please get in the boat and let Krotek bring you here. I wish to invite you and your friends for lunch.”

  “We don’t want to eat lunch on your boat,” I said. “They’ll feed us at the camp.”

  Mr. Zola paused and then said, “I would like to speak with you—with all of you.”

  “We have nothing to say to you,” I said. “Now bring our canoes back, or we’re going to tell the cops.” I passed the phone back to the big man, who I guessed was Krotek.

  As he listened to his boss, Krotek began scanning the many islands that dotted Lake Gatun. He said something into the phone in another language and nodded. Krotek pointed to one of the tiny islands two kilometres away, keeping his arm outstretched until we were all looking out over Lake Gatun.

  “Was that Mr. Zola?” Eric asked.

  I nodded. “He wants us to let this guy take us to his boat.”

  “No way!” Ben said.

  “What’s he pointing at?” Rachel said.

  “Look!” Anna cried, pointing at the horizon.

  A fireball, followed by a cloud of smoke, rose from the island. A second later we heard the explosion.

  BOOM!

  Krotek smirked and passed the phone back to me.

  My heart was pounding so loudly, I didn’t think I’d be able to hear anything. “Hello,” I muttered.

  “That island was uninhabited,” Mr. Zola said. “But if you and your friends are not in that boat in three minutes, there will be another explosion.”

  I saw goosebumps appear on my arm. “What... wh...” I swallowed and tried to restart my mouth. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that in three minutes there will be a similar accident in the kitchen at Camp Gatun. And it will be entirely your fault, Cody.”

  I passed the phone to Krotek.

  “Get in the boat,” I said to my friends. “This is serious.” I think the tone in my voice told everyone I wasn’t joking, because they all dove into the boat without arguing—even Eric.

  Krotek effortlessly pushed the inflatable out into the water. The outboard purred to life after a single yank on the starter cord. Krotek twisted the throttle and we set off, plowing through the lake toward the gleaming yacht.

  I quickly explained what Mr. Zola had said.

  “What a lunatic,” Ben shouted above the noise of the water slapping against rubber. “He can’t go around blowing up islands.”

  “Well, he just did,” Eric said.

  “What could he possibly want?” Anna wondered.

  “Maybe he’s all worked up,” Rachel yelled, “about those stupid pillars.”

  “I bet he wants us to show him where they are,” Eric said. “Remember, Bruno said he’s obsessed with them.”

  “Could be,” I said, bouncing up and down on the wooden seat. “But I’m sure Big K here saw the stones when he went looking for us in the jungle.”

  Eric grinned. “I got it! He wants to use the pillars to try and fix the broken skulls he stole. He’s using the same theory I had.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I doubt Mr. Zola watched Pet Cemetery.”

  Eric shrugged. “You never know.”

  Krotek cut a wide circle around the point and pulled up behind the luxury cruiser. We bumped into a docking platform that extended from the rear of the boat, a foot above the water. I got out of the inflatable and studied the name painted across the stern: Praise of the Two Lands.

  “Odd name for a boat,” Ben said.

  Eric nodded. “Yeah, I don’t like it.”

  “You would prefer I named her Obsession, like every tenth boat in Florida?” We all looked up and saw a bird-like face peering down from the railing.

  Rachel pointed at the transom. “What are ‘the two lands’?”

  “And who are you?” Eric demanded.

  “The two lands are Upper and Lower Egypt,” he said to Rachel. “And I am Mr. Zola,” he said to Eric.

  “What do you want with us?” Ben shouted.

  He ignored Ben and said, “You are all welcome here. Please come up so we can discuss the matter inside.” He disappeared from the railing, ending any further whining from us.

  We climbed the ladder in single file and found ourselves on a beautiful open deck. The area had more couches and chairs than our entire house back home. A gold awning was pulled out overhead to protect everything from the sun. An attendant rolled a sliding door open for Mr. Zola and he went inside.

  Krotek had huffed his way up the ladder after securing the rubber boat, and now he was shooing us from behind. “Inside. Inside.” He waved his big arms at us like he was corralling a bunch of sheep.

  “Relax, Big K,” Eric said, looking around. “We’re just admiring your boss’s boat.”

  Krotek gave Eric a nasty stare.

  “Don’t make him mad,” Rachel warned. “He looks like he could throw you clear across the canal.”

  Mr. Zola was wearing brilliant white robes, making it look like he was floating across the room. He sat down at the head of a long table. A lady walked over carrying a silver tray full of water bottles. She placed the drinks in front of the five empty chairs and retreated. We sat and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. After a minute of silence, another lady appeared carrying a white thimble in the middle of another shiny tray. I thought the thimble was a bit strange until I realized it wasn’t a thimble—it was a tiny coffee cup. She set the little container it in front of Mr. Zola, bowed slightly, and backed away again. He grabbed the wee handle with two fingers and took a hamsterish sip.

  Rachel and I looked at each other, and then we both looked at Eric. I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing: Please don’t say anything dumb.

  “Did you swipe that from some kid’s play kitchen?” Eric asked, pointing at the cup.

  Too late.

  Mr. Zola slowly set the cup back down on a saucer the size of a quarter. “Excuse me?”

  Rachel elbowed Eric under his armpit. “Please ignore my brother,” she said. “What do you want from us?”

  “I think you know exactly what I want. But, so there is no misunderstanding in the future, I will explain what I want. The crystal skull—the one you found at the petroforms today.”

  Eric said, “Which—”

  He got an elbow from me that time for almost saying, “Which one?” If Mr. Zola didn’t know there were two skulls, why should we go and tell him.

  “Which we don’t have,” I finished for Eric. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Mr. Zola picked up his nursery school play cup and took another sip. After carefully w
iping nothing from the corner of his mouth with a napkin, he snapped his fingers and said something in a strange language. Krotek lumbered over to the table from the sliding door he was guarding. Mr. Zola asked Krotek a question without even bothering to look at him.

  The big man’s arm shot out and he pointed at Eric.

  “What?” Eric asked, trying to sound innocent.

  Krotek explained something to his boss.

  Mr. Zola nodded. “Krotek said he saw you all digging near the stone markers.”

  “So what?” Ben challenged. “We were looking for artifacts—pottery and stuff.”

  Mr. Zola inhaled a slow, deep breath, and then let it out even slower. I got the feeling he wasn’t enjoying our company. “Krotek waited in hiding to see what artifacts you might find. He saw Eric lift a crystal skull from the earth, hold it high above his head, and shout with joy.”

  Eric pointed at Krotek. “So he came back here and told you I found a crystal skull—right after I found it?”

  Mr. Zola nodded.

  “What a snitch!” Eric said.

  We all looked around the table at each other. Eric had just confirmed what we were all thinking: Krotek didn’t see Ben find the second skull.

  “Why should we give you the skull?” Anna asked, no longer pretending we didn’t find one.

  “As I explained on the phone, if you don’t give it to me I will destroy the tent city at Camp Gatun. Boom!” Mr. Zola made a fist and then flicked out his fingers, demonstrating (I guess) what an explosion might look like if his ten skinny fingers blew up.

  “You can’t go around exploding things.” Rachel said.

  “Yes, I can,” he said. “That island I blew up, for example, will not be given a second thought.”

  “But there are people at Camp Gatun,” I said. “They’ll get hurt.”

  “They most certainly will,” he said. “And it will be your fault.”

  “We’ll tell on you,” Ben said. “It’s five against one.”

  “True, but I gave the Panamanian government one billion dollars to expand the canal. You, on the other hand, did not. So in reality, it is one billion dollars against five kids. I assure you, the police will believe me.”

  “That’s murder,” Anna shouted.

  Mr. Zola gave Anna an irritated look. “Twenty thousand people died when the canal was first built. I think if an accidental explosion today kills thirty or forty people, no one will be alarmed.”

  “You’re crazy,” Eric said.

  “Perhaps,” Mr. Zola said. “But I will have that skull.”

  I thought for a moment. “Okay,” I said, “we’ll give you the skull we found, but under one condition.”

  Mr. Zola couldn’t resist a nasty smirk. “You are in no position to make demands, but I will entertain you. What is your condition?”

  “We’ll trade you the skull we found,” I said, “for the broken skulls you stole.”

  Chapter 11

  THE SMIRK VANISHED from Mr. Zola’s face, and he began to turn red. “I... I have no broken skulls,” he stammered.

  Now it was Eric’s turn to be a tattletale. “Then what did Big K... I mean, Krotek steal from the artifact tent yesterday at sunrise?”

  Krotek’s mouth slowly opened, but Mr. Zola silenced him with a quick hand gesture. He would definitely be going to bed without his supper tonight.

  “I see I’ve underestimated you children,” he said. “However, since you have been honest with me, I will now be honest with you. My business is that of rare antiquities, and there is nothing quite as unique as a genuine crystal skull. I confess—I did send Krotek to borrow the skulls. But upon testing... I mean, examining the skulls, they no longer have any special value for me. So I will gladly return them to you.”

  I shook my head. “We want Krotek to return them to Camp Gatun.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everyone thinks my uncle stole them,” Anna said quickly.

  “Like you didn’t know that,” Eric said accusingly.

  Mr. Zola didn’t say anything.

  “If Krotek brings the artifacts back,” I said, “Rudi will be cleared.”

  “And if I agree to that,” Mr. Zola said, licking his thin lower lip, “you will give me the crystal skull you found?”

  We all nodded.

  “But the thing is,” I said, “we don’t actually have the skull with us right now. We... we hid it again.”

  Mr. Zola squinted at us like he didn’t believe that, or because he thought that was a stupid thing to do.

  “You can check our bag if you like,” Rachel said.

  “That won’t be necessary.” He placed his palms flat on the table. “Cody will go and recover the skull, and bring it back to me. The rest of you will remain here and join me for lunch.”

  “We can’t stay here,” Anna said. “My father is expecting us back at camp.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not true, Anna, because I spoke with your father less than an hour ago. I asked him for permission to invite you all for lunch, to show my appreciation for his contribution to archaeology. Your father thanked me and said I should remind you all to behave.”

  “Umph,” Anna said, folding her arms and leaning back in the chair.

  I cleared my throat and mumbled, “I’ll need help getting the skull.”

  “Krotek will accompany you.”

  I didn’t want the big guy along, but I didn’t know how to argue the point. We couldn’t risk him discovering there were two skulls and reporting that back to Mr. Zola. That wouldn’t be good for Lucia, for the Chocoan, or for anyone on Earth. I mean, if that whole legend thing was true.

  “It’ll be a lot faster,” Eric said, “if I go with him.”

  “Faster,” Mr. Zola said, “in what way?”

  Eric slowly opened his water bottle, and then took his time drinking half of it. I knew he was stalling and trying to think of a good reason why he should be allowed to come with me. We all waited to hear what he’d come up with.

  “Well, first of all,” Eric began, “Krotek is out of shape. He’s going to plow through the jungle like a big, stupid, sweaty, ugly cow. We hid the skull up the mountain and it’ll take hours to hike there with him. He’s useless... look at him.”

  Big Krotek didn’t argue with any of that. In fact, I think I saw his head nod slightly in subconscious agreement. He probably didn’t want to go back into the jungle either.

  Mr. Zola continued to study his employee as Eric suggested. Maybe he was thinking about putting Krotek on a diet, or buying him a heavy-duty treadmill. Anyway, after watching Krotek for a minute (who was now looking at his feet, by the way), Mr. Zola turned to Eric again. “Go on.”

  “Plus,” Eric said, “there are local Chocoan people all over those hills. We even saw a few hunters in the area. They’ll hear him coming and take the skull from us long before we make it back here.”

  That sounded plausible to Mr. Zola and he nodded. “Then Cody must go alone. I do not want the skull stolen by local bandits.”

  Eric looked panicky—I think he’d run out of excuses—so I decided to help. “I have the best sense of direction in the forest,” I said, “and I know where to go. But it was Eric who hid the skull when we got up the mountain. I was keeping lookout and I don’t know exactly where he buried it. He has to come along.”

  “ENOUGH!” Mr. Zola shouted. “I am tiring of these games. Krotek will take you both across the canal. The two of you—and only the two of you—will go and get the skull. Krotek will wait by the water and guard the boat from locals. You have two hours.” He stood up, straightened his robes, and turned to leave.

  “Wait!” I said. “Does that mean we have a deal? You’ll return the broken skulls if we give you the one we found?”

  Mr. Zola didn�
��t think that was worth turning around for. “I am a businessman,” he said, with his back still to the table. “We have a deal, Cody. However, if you do not have the skull on this vessel in two hours... there will be—how shall I put it?—consequences.”

  •

  “Two hours,” Krotek said. He tapped the watch strapped around his meaty wrist, in case we didn’t know what he meant. “Mr. Zola is not a patient man.”

  “Or a nice man,” Eric mumbled as he climbed out of the inflatable.

  I grabbed Rachel’s backpack and followed him onto the muddy east shore, not far from the petroform site. “Just stay here and don’t wander off,” I said to Big K. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  For the third time in twenty-four hours, we battled through the shrubs near the canal and climbed the hill to the pillars. We didn’t want to take any shortcuts and risk getting lost, so we decided to retrace our earlier route as best we could. When we got to the hole where we found the skulls, we took a break to catch out breath.

  “I sure hope Lucia’s home,” I said.

  “That’ll be the easy part,” Eric said. “The hard part will be convincing her to give us a skull.”

  I shook my head. “That shouldn’t be a problem, because this is all part of her ancestors’ prophecy.”

  “Prophecy?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Remember what Lucia told us. A long time ago a man kept having a dream that he had to make a second crystal skull to fool someone—to trick someone who would try and take the real skull. The Chocoan probably always thought they would need that fake skull to trick Spanish explorers or some looting conquistador. But maybe this is exactly what was supposed to happen.”

  Eric considered that for a few seconds and then nodded. “It does seem like everything is going according to plan. The Chocoan have both skulls, Mr. Zola is the bad guy in the dream, and now they have to trick him with a phony skull. But... but we—”

  “But we don’t know which skull is the fake skull,” I said, finishing Eric’s sentence, “and which skull will save the world.”

  “That’s going to be a problem.”