Daniel’s voice called to him from the hall, and he tore his eyes from the material he was reading, but not because he wanted to. The history of the Incas was fascinating.
“Come in,” he said.
Daniel entered and unloaded the tray he was carrying, setting both a cup of coffee and a turkey sandwich on Matthew’s desk. “Ah, reading, I see.”
Matthew took a bite of the sandwich. He was aware of it all the way down to the base of his empty stomach. How long had he been in here? He consulted the clock on the wall. Six hours. They do say that time flies when having fun.
He gestured with the sandwich toward Daniel and spoke with his mouth full. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. So what are your thoughts?” Daniel sat in the chair across from Matthew.
“On the history of Incas of Peru or the alleged city of Paititi?”
“Alleged? Ah, not quite a believer yet, I see.”
Matthew swallowed a large piece of bread and turkey, and then shook his head. “I don’t really know what to believe, actually. I haven’t made up my mind.”
“Hmm, well, that’s a first. Normally you know right away. You jump in with both feet.”
Daniel was right. Normally he did. But maybe he’d had a bit more to go on in the past. Maybe it’d be easier if there were more recorded documents—a difficult task as the Incas had never developed a written language.
“What have you learned so far?” Daniel prompted.
“A lot. I remember studying them in school, but unless I’m using knowledge actively, it’s gone. Sadly, that happened with the Incas.”
“And now?”
“They fascinate me.”
“And the city of Paititi?”
“It’s an enigma. Does it exist? Did it ever exist? With the vast territory the Incas took in, the search area is expansive.”
Daniel laughed. “I’d have agreed with you before I saw those photographs.”
Matthew pulled one from the pile and placed it at the top. It showed the color variations, hinting to something underneath the surface. “It’s these images that are most convincing.”
“Yet you still hesitate to believe?”
“It’s just… What if the Spanish conquistadors took all the gold after they conquered the Incas?”
Daniel pressed his lips together. “It’s possible, I suppose.” He paused a beat. “So you think the treasure is gone?”
Matthew wasn’t ready to resign himself to that assumption, either. “I’m not sure. But I keep thinking about Machu Picchu.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, it’s believed that the Spanish kept that city’s location quiet.”
“You’re thinking they also kept Paititi’s whereabouts hidden?”
Matthew nodded. “I wonder. I mean, think of it this way: You just conquered a large nation. You feel entitled to all the spoils. The Spaniards were not only brutally violent but greedy. Why spread word about finding all this gold? Would it not be better to remain quiet, and maybe many years later, as the story of conquest is retold, throw in a rumor about a City of Gold? Meanwhile, the riches were long gone.”
Daniel nodded. “It is definitely possible.”
The scenarios, the numerous possibilities, raced through Matthew’s mind. “History confirms that the Spaniards recovered some gold, but the quantities were considered insignificant against what the Incas were believed to have had. Expanding on this, some items weren’t accounted for.”
“You’re referring to the gold chain?”
“Yes, that and a gold disc. These items are too large simply to vanish. The chain was six hundred fifty feet long, each link as thick as a man’s thumb. It was so heavy that it took two hundred men to lift it. The disc was said to be thirteen feet in diameter and was considered the most precious object of the empire. Termed the holy of holies it was said to be kept in the big temple in Cusco. After 1572, it never resurfaced. Gone.” Matthew snapped his fingers. “Just gone? I’m not buying that. I wonder if the Incas hid it in their city. In Paititi.”
“Ah, there he is.” Daniel smiled. “I find this interesting. The Spaniard Francisco Pizzaro held Atahualpa, the last Sapa Inca, or ruler, for ransom. He ordered that a room of eighty-eight cubic meters was to be filled with gold. For months, precious objects were carted in from across the span of the empire—jars, pots, vessels, and golden plates. Over the course of weeks, the gold objects were melted down and the spoils divided among Pizzaro and his men. But Pizzaro ended up killing the ruler anyway. But I have a theory,” he said, looking to Matthew, who nodded at him to continue. “Do you really think the Inca people brought Pizzaro all the gold they had, precious items used in worship, knowing they were all going to be destroyed? It was rumored that the Spaniard doubted their trustworthiness. Related to that or not, he killed Atahualpa before the ransom had been completed.”
“Good points. It also leads back to the idea that underground tunnels were a viable means of travel and obscurity.”
“So you are considering the mission, then?” Daniel asked slowly.
“Hmm,” was all Matthew said in response.
Then Daniel fell quiet, and Matthew sensed he had more on his mind than Paititi.
“What is it, Daniel?”
“Gideon Barnes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father… He wants me to hire a private investigator to hunt the man down. What am I supposed to do?”
Matthew hadn’t anticipated that coming, though maybe he should have. At one time, he had deliberated on hiring a man to play the role—beyond the photographs—but had decided it would be too risky.
“Your father says he wants acknowledgment. Maybe send him a card?” Daniel hitched his brows, and it made Matthew laugh.
“I could do that.”
“And in the meantime, what should I do?”
“Either stall or get someone you can control? Better yet, pretend to get some—”
Daniel was shaking his head. “Not going to work. He’s going to follow up.”
“Okay, go with my second suggestion, then: pretend to hire someone.”
“Will do.” Daniel stood.
“I’ll let you know what I decide to do about Paititi.”
“You know, even if the treasure itself isn’t there, the temple was rumored to be made of gold. It’s not as if the Incas could have carried that back for the Spaniards. And to lay claim to Paititi would be beyond compare.”
“Again, assuming that Paititi is even real.” Matthew’s phone rang, and Daniel excused himself and left the room.
Matthew glanced at the caller ID. An unknown number. He sent the call to voice mail, more interested in getting back to his research than dealing with a telemarketer.
He settled back in his chair, analyzing one of Daniel’s photographs.
Are you the legendary Paititi?
The door swung open and Cal came in, Lauren racing behind him, her hands flailing in the air. “He just steamrolled right by me.”
“It’s all right.” Matthew waved her off, and she closed the door behind her.
Cal stood in front of him, heaving for air, hunched over and ragged. “Someone has—”
Matthew’s phone rang again, and he pushed it aside.
Cal’s hands shot out. “You have to get that and you have to get it now.”
Cal hadn’t even been this panicked when Matthew had pushed him over the ravine. Matthew accepted the call, keeping his eyes on Cal. “Matthew Connor.”
“Meet me in the history section of Indigo Books on Yonge in an hour.” It was a man’s voice but not one he recognized.
“Who is this?”
“Don’t worry about who this is, worry about who I have.”
Matthew’s eyes shot to Cal.
“He has Sophie,” Cal whispere
d.
Matthew’s stomach dropped. “What do you want?” he said into the phone.
“I told you what I want. And no police. You follow directions and your friend gets to live. One hour.”
The man hung up.
Matthew continued to hold his phone and tapped his clenched hand against the desk. “What do you mean he has Sophie? He who? How did he get my number?”
“He called me first. That’s how he had your number. I gave it to him. Sophie and I had talked about getting together after her showing last night, but she said she’d call. When she didn’t, I just assumed she was tired and thought nothing of it. But then I got the call…” Cal was wearing a pattern in the floorboards with his pacing. “Remember the dark SUV? The Liam Neeson look-alike? I think it’s him.”
“Why?”
“I think it ties back to India.”
“Well, if he’s after the statue, he’s too late.”
“It can’t be too late.” Cal swallowed roughly. “He will kill her, Matt.”
-
Chapter 12
MATTHEW DROVE SINCE HE WAS in a better emotional state than Cal, who hadn’t stopped shaking since he had entered Matthew’s office forty-five minutes prior.
“I think you should stay put,” Matthew said, pulling into a spot near Indigo Books.
Cal kept his gaze straight ahead. Matthew let him take time to collect himself, and mere seconds later, Cal turned to Matthew. “You’re probably right. I’d kill the son of a bitch. Just get Sophie back.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Cal shook his head, distress written all over his face. “I can’t believe I let her get caught up in this mess. She’s going to kill me.”
“This isn’t your fault, but when you put it that way, I almost feel sorry for the guy who has her.” Matthew tried to add humor to lessen the impact of their grim situation.
“Damn straight.”
Matthew left the keys in the ignition and let it idle to keep Cal warm. It was cold and damp outside, and he didn’t know how long he’d be gone.
With each step he took toward the bookstore, Matthew replayed the conversation with the strange caller. His voice was clearly North American but otherwise had no discernable accent. He didn’t think this man was the same one from the jungle, though. He’d also debated whether the “no police” demand was something to worry about or not. Was it simply a play for dramatics? A bluff? While he wished it were, he had a bad feeling this man meant business.
A young blonde smiled at him when he entered the bookstore. “Good day. Can I help you find anything?”
She was a cute little thing, and on any other occasion, he might have invented a reason to take her up on her offer of assistance. But this time, he shook his head and kept on walking to the history section.
A man was sitting on one of two sofa chairs situated near each other.
He really does look like Liam Neeson.
The man spotted him, too, and sauntered over to the shelving on a perimeter wall.
Matthew’s heart was racing, but he ignored it. Sophie’s life was at stake. He followed the man and, once next to him, Matthew pulled out a hardback on the American Civil War. Maybe if he were holding something, he’d be less nervous. Or at least able to hide his emotions better.
The man remained where he was, still facing the shelf. “You’re going to get the Pandu.”
The Pandu? It’s secured in the museum. Impossible.
Besides, he and his friends weren’t con men or thieves. They were treasure hunters.
The stranger’s head slowly swiveled toward Matthew. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard you.”
“You are going to get the statue, and then—”
“That’s not possible.” Matthew shoved the book back onto the shelf. “It’s already at the Royal Ontario Museum. It’s on exhibit. There’s no way to get it back.”
The man curled his lips. “No statue, no Sophie. Don’t tell me that I didn’t give you a choice.” He turned to leave.
“How do I know she’s still alive?” he countered, his gut twisting. Verbalizing the situation made it surreal, like he was in another dimension of reality. These types of things happened to characters in the movies, not to him and his friends.
The man closed the distance between them. He stretched his neck forward and spoke into Matthew’s ear. “What does it matter if you’re not going to help me out?”
The Pandu was off the table. He and his friends knew nothing about bypassing security. And even if they could figure out a way into the museum, it would likely take weeks to plan and orchestrate. If they were caught, they’d all go to prison. But maybe he could make another trade…
Daniel’s proposed quest flashed through his mind. Was he willing to risk Sophie’s life on a legendary city that may not even exist?
His blood pounded in his ears at the prospect of what he was going to bargain with. “There may be something I can offer you instead.”
“Now what could that possibly be? I really had my mind set on the man in a dress.”
Matthew wasn’t going to correct him that it was a jama, not a dress.
“First you show me proof of life.” He squared his shoulders and widened his stance, the familiar rush of adrenaline calming his nerves.
The man took a phone from his pocket, pressed some buttons, and held the screen for Matthew to see.
A short video began to play. It showed Sophie gagged and tied to a chair.
Matthew scrutinized the background for any identifying landmarks, but the man had been smart enough to film with his back to a window. The glare cutting across the lens gave that much away.
“Come on. Say hi to the camera.”
“Screw you.” Sophie’s words were mumbled but easy enough to distinguish. Even with her life in danger, the girl was spirited. Maybe Cal had reason to fear her once they rescued her.
“There, you’ve seen enough.” The man pocketed the phone.
“How do I know that you didn’t record this and then kill her?”
“Listen, if you want to play games with her life, that is your choice, but you are quickly wearing on my patience.”
Matthew’s vision was narrowing, his hearing sharpening, and his heart thumping. If he concentrated, he could even hear its beat. Was offering Paititi the right decision? As if the universe was giving him a sign, his eyes landed on a book about the Inca Empire. “Like I said, I have something even bigger to offer you.”
The man shrugged and splayed his hands.
“This treasure is estimated to be worth ten billion,” he said, borrowing Daniel’s summation. “That’s well over the estimated value of the statue. But really, this find is priceless. It has the ability to change the world.”
“It’s not about bettering the planet or the money, Gideon Barnes.”
Matthew’s eyes shot to meet the man’s.
“That’s right. I know who you are. Both your identities.”
It must be a tactic to throw him off, and by God, it was working. His mind was whirring. There was only one other person aware of his alias outside of his circle of friends…Veronica Vincent. And suffice it say, their relationship wasn’t a good one. Was she behind Sophie’s abduction?
“See, it’s not about the money,” the man went on. “It’s about the Pandu.”
“You said that.” Confidence veneered Matthew’s words.
“Then the next move is yours. Sophie lives or she—”
“What I’m offering you is the City of Gold.”
“The City of Gold?” The man laughed, showing a characteristic that was all his own, without any likeness to the actor he so resembled. “As in El Dorado? I would have given you more credit. There is no such thing. It’s a myth.”
Paititi, actually.
“Are you
certain that it doesn’t exist?” Matthew said, making his tone and expression serious enough to create doubt.
The laughter stopped. “People have been searching for it a long time. If it were real, don’t you think it would have been found by now?”
“I have a reason to believe that it exists,” Matthew said. “As I’ve said, it’s on the table.”
“And who are you to call the shots?” the man growled.
“I’m the one who knows where to find it.”
He scoffed. “You know where it is?”
Matthew just nodded. He hoped that he was coming across with conviction. Inside, he was quaking. It was possible that Daniel’s photographs would amount to nothing.
He appeared to be considering the proposal. While he did, Matthew’s mind replayed the man’s earlier words. Help me out. Combining this with the fact that he knew he was Gideon Barnes made it worthy of acting on a hunch. “Maybe you should run the offer past your boss.”
“What are you talking about? I’m in charge.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow. “If you really were in charge, you would have jumped at the opportunity to stake claim to the City of Gold.”
“Maybe I’m attached to the statue.”
Maybe you’re full of shit was what Matthew wanted to say. He played the silence for a bit longer before walking away and leaving the man with the words, “Check with your boss and let me know.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Matthew saw the man ball his hands into fists. Matthew would likely receive a phone call within the next half hour. If it even took that long.
-
Chapter 13
MATTHEW CAME OUT OF THE bookstore reveling in a sense of power, but this mess was far from over. And he had no idea how his friends would react when they found out what he had proposed.
He slammed the driver’s-side door and buckled his seat belt. In his peripheral vision, he saw Cal regard him and then angled himself to glance behind the vehicle.
“Are we getting Sophie back? What happened, Matt?”
Matthew gripped the wheel.
“Matt?”
He hated himself right now. He hated the fact that he couldn’t bring Sophie back immediately. He hated that he couldn’t be certain Sophie was even alive. A lingering darkness in that man’s eyes set him ill at ease. He was a killer. And he hated that Vincent was likely pulling the man’s strings.
City of Gold Page 7