City of Gold

by Arnold, Carolyn

  Robyn had faith that Paititi did exist. Yet so many people had gone in search of it. So many had sacrificed their lives, both in research and actuality. To think that she and her two closest friends were going to make the find moved her on a spiritual level.

  With all the reasons to succumb to doubt and fear, she opted to remain positive. No one else had investigated this particular area for the City of Gold before. Others had concentrated their searches on northeastern Peru, close to Cusco. She initially understood their reasoning, but after scrutinizing the different versions of the legends, she saw the potential in where they were now going.

  She gave credence to the Incas traveling by means of underground tunnels. It made sense given their mountainous landscape, and they more than possessed the intelligence and expertise to structure such an undertaking.

  While the boys slept, she read a letter written by a Catholic missionary that dated back to the early seventh century. He spoke of being taken to Paititi and described it as “a ten-day march far away from Peru.” Yet, despite him having provided the location of the city, it lay in obscurity, shrouded behind myth and legend. Allegedly, the Society of Jesus never revealed the location to avoid a gold rush.

  Add to that the many accounts that contradicted one another, leading explorers in opposite directions of the Inca Empire. One account even mentioned that Paititi was in the grasslands. This version didn’t resonate with Robyn.

  When she consulted the photographs that Daniel’s contacts had taken, though, she saw it. The child inside of her, the one who believed in Paititi’s existence, had sparked to life and sizzled with expectation. There was definitely something under the ground.

  The plane touched the runway then, and she took a deep breath.

  This is it.

  Matthew and Cal stirred awake almost in sync.

  “We’re here,” she said, nudging them. She attempted a smile, but the nerves fluttering through her system made it difficult to complete the expression.

  “No turning back now.” Matthew’s words mirrored her thinking.

  “Are you ready, Cal?” Robyn asked.

  Cal stretched, and his six-foot-five frame made it possible for him to touch the cabin’s ceiling without much effort. “Yeah, let’s do this thing.”

  They unloaded, and Robyn wished there were some way to ditch Vincent’s men. She didn’t want to accept that she, Cal, and Matthew had ended up caught in that awful woman’s web. A draw remained between Vincent and Matthew, despite his protestations otherwise. Every time Matthew came into direct contact with her, metaphorical brimstone rained down from the sky destroying life as they knew it.

  Cal slipped his camera strap over his head, securing his gear. One thing Robyn had learned by being friends with a photographer was that every event belonged on film, or digital file as it was these days.

  As they entered the airport, she spotted two Bolivian men holding signs with Matthew’s name scrawled on them. Both men were short in stature and had wide, round faces. Their eyes were dark and deep.

  They smiled at the three of them as they approached but then scowled at Ian and Kevin. Robyn knew how they felt. Daniel must have explained the situation when he’d arranged the escort from the airport.

  Robyn held out her hand to the man closest to her. “Robyn Garcia.”

  “Ah, bonita.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it before flashing a toothy grin. “My name is Juan Sanchez.”

  Robyn smiled at him. He wasn’t handsome in a typical sense, but he had a softness about his nature.

  “This is Lewis Blanco.” Juan gestured to his companion. Matthew, Cal, and the two Bolivian men shook hands.

  “I see you have baggage.” Lewis jerked his head toward Ian and Kevin, who had hung back.

  Vincent’s men weren’t talking to each other, and they were facing opposite directions, their energies mirrored. Kevin’s shoulders were relaxed, and his arms hung at his sides. His one thumb was latched on a belt loop. Ian’s jaw was tight, and he tapped his thigh.

  “Do you mind if I take your picture?” Cal asked Juan and Lewis while motioning for them to get closer to each other.

  “Why not take everyone?” Juan suggested.

  “Good idea.” Robyn headed for Matthew, but Juan reached for her arm and pulled her toward him.

  “You will stand by me if that’s all right.”

  Another toothy grin.

  Robyn laughed.

  Matthew stood on the other side of Juan, Lewis was to Robyn’s left, and Cal lifted the camera to take the shot.

  “No! No! Get one of them to take it.” Juan brushed his hand toward Vincent’s men.

  Kevin was staring straight at them now but made no movement. Ian rolled his eyes and trudged over.

  “This isn’t an effin’ holiday. Give me the damn camera.” Ian snatched it from Cal’s hands.

  “You break that, you son of a bitch, you bought it.” Cal sidled up next to Lewis and threw his arm around the man. “Okay, take—”

  “Done,” Ian said.

  Cal rolled his eyes. “Again. This time wait for us to smile.”

  “For shit’s sake.”

  Seconds passed.

  “Take the shot. Anytime now,” Cal directed.

  “Say cheese.” Sarcasm dripped from Ian’s words. The camera shutter clicked.

  Cal snatched his camera back from Ian.

  Robyn understood Cal’s hatred for the man. If a touch of humanity didn’t exist within her, she’d be tempted to lose him, and Kevin, out in the jungle somewhere.

  -

  Chapter 21

  THE BOLIVIANS TOOK THEM TO a motel along the highway. Cal was sitting under a covered picnic area and staring at the heavy downpour. His mind was thousands of miles away, back in Canada.

  If it wasn’t for him craving excitement and chasing the resultant high like a drug addict, Sophie wouldn’t be in this position. How could he ever forgive himself if she was hurt? Even if her captors never laid a hand on her, she detested confinement. She was surely having waking nightmares without him there to soothe her. He hated that he was responsible.

  He gulped some pop, wishing for something stronger. But the real trek would begin at the crack of dawn, and he needed to be in top form.

  What Matthew and Robyn didn’t know was he had also researched the area and legends on Paititi. He had even scoured the vicinity on Google Earth. One point was tagged as INTO THE UNKNOWN. That wasn’t reassuring.

  He looked at the shared photographs, some of which showed waterfalls and lagoons near where they were headed. Both elements were included in Paititi legend. But that could describe many places in Peru, Brazil, and Bolivia.

  But Matthew was right: this was their best bet for bringing Sophie back alive. It was their only bet.

  “Mind if I join you?” Matthew was jogging toward him, holding a jacket over his head, which did little to shelter him from the torrential rain. He shook the jacket once he was under the overhang and didn’t say a word as he sat next to Cal.

  Both friends sat in silence for a long while with only the sound of the beating rain and the lush smell of greenery as a backdrop.

  “You’re thinking about Sophie, aren’t you?” Matthew asked.

  “It’s my fault she’s in this position. Hell, it’s why we’re in this position.” Cal squeezed his empty pop can. “If I had just believed her sooner. Maybe we could have gotten the police involved. All this could have been prevented.”

  “If you want to fault anyone for this, blame me. I’m the one who offered up Paititi.”

  “We’re not thieves, Matt, and I’m not going to prison trying to steal that statue.” His words struck his own ears and hurt his heart. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice his freedom for his girlfriend. What kind of scum was he?

  “You’re risking even more than prison, Ca
l. You are putting your life on the line. She’s lucky to have you.”

  Cal spun to face Matthew. “Lucky to have me? You’re kidding, right? If it weren’t for all this treasure hunting shit, we’d all be back home doing whatever. It would certainly be a better time than this. I guarantee you that.”

  Matthew waited for a few seconds before he spoke. “Listen, maybe none of this is any of our faults. Maybe it doesn’t even matter who’s to blame. We’re in this predicament because… Well, we just are. We do what we’ve come to do. Then we go home and get Sophie.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to, but let’s get it over with.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You okay? We should hit the sack. Tomorrow starts early.”

  Cal nodded and crushed the pop can in his hand even more. He’d have to come to terms with all this somehow. Right now, he needed to see it through and be strong—for his own sake and, more importantly, for Sophie’s.

  -

  Chapter 22

  VERONICA VINCENT WAS USED TO getting her way with very little effort on her part. She had employees at her disposal—men who considered it an honor to be at her service. The fact that she paid handsomely may have had some bearing on their attitudes, but she preferred to believe her interest in them was flattering for them.

  Before she came into their lives, they were men without a charted course in life. She provided them purpose. In return, she expected—no, demanded—that she be treated like royalty. Whatever she desired was to be delivered with no questions asked. But then there were times in life, like now, where things seemed to enter a twilight zone of sorts, where everything upended.

  And she had one person to blame for this—Ian Bridges. She should have known better than to go out of house for this job. Initially, it had seemed like a good thing to do. Matthew wouldn’t identify him as one of hers, but somehow he still managed to call the man out. If only Ian had taken care of things himself.

  Now she was imprisoned in Ian’s condo. She was used to her mansion in Manhattan with its spacious floor plan, its vaulted ceilings, and wainscoting, not to mention her grand kitchen. Ian’s scullery, however, was in the space as if it had been an afterthought. While the appliances and counters were top-of-the-line, the size of the room limited her enjoyment. Cooking normally calmed her agitated nerves, but doing so here would likely have the opposite effect.

  At least he had a collection of wine and impressive taste. She helped herself to a Ridge Monte Bello red and poured a glass. Swirling it, she appreciated the way the wine coated the glass, and then she took a small sip. It had a robust flavor and woodsy undertones, with hints of plum and peppercorn. Exquisite.

  She dropped onto the plush, black leather couch and took in the cityscape. It wasn’t as vast as it was at home, but nowhere compared to New York.

  The CN Tower was lit with various colors, traffic on the streets a blur of red and white. Still, as she let her gaze fall over the city, her mind wasn’t on the people below, on the fancies of what they were doing or where they were heading. Her mind was on Ian Bridges.

  His previous employer, a man whom Veronica respected for his own tenacity, had praised him, but Ian had failed her thus far, or at the very least complicated the situation. While he was unsuccessful in obtaining what she had originally contracted him for, it was because of him that she was on the cusp of staking claim to something much more valuable.

  A smile smeared across her lips before she took another drink of her wine.

  Maybe all wasn’t lost. While she’d had a buyer lined up for the Indian statue, his disappointment eased with some expert negotiating on her part regarding the offer of Incan treasure. She had trumped up the sale with the assertion that her team was on the verge of the greatest discovery of humankind. It may be an exaggerated point of view, but she favored optimism. And for good reason. Her entire life had been about getting what she desired, and Ian wouldn’t be the one to teach her the brutal lesson of want.

  Without disclosing specifics of the find, she had promised her buyer a pick of artifacts and said she’d extend him a deal. A price was bartered and haggled upon, its value inflated, the price reduced, and everyone walked away pleased. Everyone, that is, except for Ian Bridges. She had Kevin Porter in place to take care of things. He was a cocky son of a bitch, but he was reliable.

  She had received his call earlier confirming they had touched down and that so far things were “going.” When she had asked how specifically, he had disclosed Ian’s failure to keep his temper in check and how he had hit one of Matthew’s friends. Rage had fired through her upon hearing the report. Now that she’d had time to absorb the situation, it might not be that horrible.

  She had sent him—a city man to the jungle. That in itself was a death sentence. And if nature didn’t kill him, Kevin had his directive. After all, it was a lot easier to dispose of a body in the wilderness than in civilization.

  Veronica snapped her fingers, and Don, who was guarding the girl’s door, came to her. “I want you to send out for a gourmet meal. Surely, there’s a healthy restaurant that delivers. Make sure you get enough for the girl, too.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  She didn’t let her pleasure show but inside her heart pulsated. Being obeyed never grew old. “But before you do that, take a video of the girl.”

  Don remained standing there.

  “Now.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head.

  SOPHIE WAS HUNGRY, AND HER mouth was dry. Seconds were morphing into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days. Two full days had already passed, and in that time, her hope was already slipping.

  A shiver of fear lanced through her. In this place of captivity, her rights were violated and stripped from her. She didn’t have freedom to eat or drink as her body dictated or to come and go as she pleased.

  Her strong nature forced her from the bed. She’d demand an audience with the woman and get more answers. She deserved that much, didn’t she? She was almost to the door when it opened.

  It was the baboon.

  His size dwarfed her. His pumped biceps probably measured the same circumference as her thigh.

  She backed up, only to realize that she was drawing him toward the bed.

  He followed her strides, matching the distance she moved until she had nowhere else to go. She fell back onto the mattress when it pressed against the back of her legs.

  Was the woman still here? She’d somehow feel safer if she were.

  All the things she had learned about self-defense raced through her mind. But the lessons were buried so deep in her past that she’d have to trust her instincts, her will to survive, and her resolve not to be defiled.

  Her thoughts traced to Cal. God help this man if he even tried to do anything to her. If she lived through all this and Cal ever found out, this man, despite his giant structure, would die.

  She closed her eyes, and warm tears slid down her cheeks.

  The man loomed over her, his shadow casting a darkness she could sense. Her eyes popped open, and she saw he held the gag that she’d been forced to wear before.

  She struggled against him, trying free herself from his grasp, but he was too powerful. All she wanted to do was yell, but the woman had made the consequence of her doing so very clear. She would be shot, and her friends would die. Any helpful Samaritans would also be killed.

  The man’s hands encircled her wrists as if they were small twigs, and he tugged on her, pulling her up the bed.

  She kicked her legs and bucked against him to no avail. He secured her by one wrist to the bedframe and took out a smartphone.

  Tears poured down her cheeks now, and a bawl hurled from her throat. He laid his hand over her mouth, adding another sound barrier to the gag he had put in place.

  She calmed, and their eyes locked.
r />   “I’m going to record you.”

  Her eyes widened more, and it was then that he seemed to recognize her primal fear. “No, no, I’m not going to—” He wiggled his fingers, indicating her body.

  He held up the phone, and she continued to fight against him, twisting her body like a worm, drawing up her legs and bucking outward. Her heels found purchase in a sweet spot, and he howled.

  She drew deep breaths in through her nose, her exhales meeting the cloth in her mouth and flooding her face with hot air.

  As he was keeled over, cradling his manhood, Veronica rushed into the room. It was almost as if she glided in, her movements were so crisp and quick.

  Veronica gave the man a look over. “You stupid shit.” She snatched the phone from the man’s hands and held it aimed on Sophie. “Say hello.”

  Sophie blinked slowly, her lashes brushing the skin beneath her eyes. When she opened them again, her gag had been removed, but the camera was in her face.

  “Speak or you and your friends are dead.”

  To support the woman’s words, the man had gathered himself enough to draw his gun. He pressed its muzzle against Sophie’s forehead. “She said to say hello.”

  More tears fell, and as Sophie struggled to give life to the words, she fell apart. Her body shook and she cried deep, heaving, painful sobs.

  -

  Chapter 23

  THE ENTIRE DAY HAD BEEN a montage of faces, some important, others easily fading into the background. But they all equated to one thing for William Connor: they were his meal tickets. Without the public, he’d be of no importance. Life as he knew it would implode. In fact, he’d rather not draw breath if he wasn’t making a difference or at the center of attention. Really, that’s where he thrived. And most people respected him for his achievements.