Relics

by K. T. Tomb

  Punta Gordians proudly declared the existence of a rejuvenative fountain as far back as 1894. In 1926, they mounted a collection drive to pay for the stout little structure that stands to this day. At the height of its popularity, in the mid-20th century, the handle on the tap had to be replaced every six months.

  ***

  It was a three-hour drive back to Lhasa Airport and everyone was tired, hungry and cranky by the time they were back on board the jet; none more so than little Angelo.

  He was kicking and screaming when Charlotte inadvertently woke him up trying to get him out of the Range Rover. After a warm bath and a change of clothes, Charlotte allowed Pam to offer him some slices of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and glazed carrots, which went down like a treat. Not long after, the little boy was dozing off in her arms again and she laid him down on the pullout cot to sleep.

  They had their own roast chicken supper while Captain Sampras got them cleared to take off for the Seychelles Islands.

  “I’ve never been to Seychelles before,” Jonathan remarked absent-mindedly as he surfed the Internet, trying to look up interesting facts about the place.

  “That doesn’t matter!” Phoe snapped impatiently.

  Down girl. Come on down from that soapbox of queen bitchiness. The kid’s just making conversation.

  “I meant that you need to see what you can find on Ile Moyenne,” Phoe corrected herself. “It’s obvious from what Kamala said that that was where Angelo’s interest really was.”

  “I’d think that being a group of islands, water must be pretty scarce. Any natural springs or river system would cause urbanization in that resources’ immediate vicinity. Ile Moyenne seems practically deserted.”

  “Well, we’ll know what the deal is in no time!” Eric said.

  ***

  “I’m really sorry about this, Charlotte, but you’ve been vetoed on the matter. There’s no negotiating this,” Phoe said, her voice slightly raised.

  “You can’t leave us behind. What if those morons come after us again?”

  “You’ll be safe with Sampras and Pam. Go to the hotel with them and do a little sightseeing, go to a beach. Relax, for God’s sake, and have some fun with the kid,” Peter insisted, trying to make the idea of her being left behind seem a little more appealing.

  There was no use arguing and Charlotte knew it, so, in the end, she followed Pam to the rented SUV and shimmied into the back seat with Angelo. As they drove off, Phoe sighed heavily and turned to the guys.

  “She sure can be pig-headed when she’s ready to be, huh?” Phoe asked rhetorically.

  The three men exchanged glances for a moment and then burst out laughing. She looked at them incredulously and huffed. When the three began laughing even harder, she picked up her bags and stormed off toward the waiting vehicle. It wasn’t until she had taken the driver’s seat and had started the engine that they realized they had better haul ass before Phoe left them behind.

  At the marina, a large fishing boat captained by a scruffy-looking man awaited them. Captain Jareau had not been too keen on chauffeuring a group of inquisitive tourists over to Ile Moyenne until he’d heard Simon Kessler’s proposal for his remuneration if he did so. The man never questioned anything after that. It wasn’t until he realized that they didn’t expect him to wait for them that his doubts returned.

  “So just come back at noon tomorrow? You sure you don’t want me to just wait for you and take you back this afternoon?”

  “Captain Jareau,” Jonathan attempted smoothly. He was smiling his version of his father’s convincing grin. “In this particular instance, we won’t be needing you to do anything other than exactly what we tell you to do. It’s really not hard. Mr. Kessler has ensured that you have been handsomely compensated for any inconvenience that we might cause you and all you have to do is follow instructions. Understood?”

  The surly, middle-aged man nodded.

  “We’ll be waiting right here for you at noon tomorrow.”

  With that, the four skipped over the rail of Captain Jareau’s fishing boat and disappeared into the thick, overgrown palm forest of Ile Moyenne.

  According to what Jonathan and Eric had been able to find out on the Internet, the island was uninhabited and had no known resources. It had been easy to find the tons of nothing that was known about the place on the Internet. They had, however, come across an interesting article from a recent newspaper.

  The story had said that a company called Komodo Industries had been trying to get the government of the islands to grant permission for them to expand their water locating, harvesting and retailing business from Eden Island to some of the less explored islands of the country. The first on their list had been Ile Moyenne. The government had been cautious and was not rushing to give Komodo easy access or exclusive rights to the exploration of the islands.

  Their lack of decision had apparently angered the company’s COO and he had done the interview with an up-and-coming journalist to try to paint his company as positively as he could.

  What great P.R.!

  “We do not have enough water to export, although there has been a remarkable amount of interest from various international markets in recent times for us to do so. We lack the quantity to meet the demand on the international level,” confirms the COO of Komodo, Ricardo Rodriguez.

  “We must go out to other corners of the country and find those untapped sources of freshwater, which we can use to elevate the product and increase our international viability as a country.”

  This is echoed by the owner of Komodo Industries, who feels that there is still a void for bottled water in the country.

  “We would like to expand into a new, healthy range of water-based products, especially flavored or carbonated water. There is enough demand for water in the country and we hope that the product continues to represent our country in a bottle. Seychelles in a bottle,” he states.

  It was the biggest load of malarkey that Phoe had read in months. She got the distinct feeling that the government of Seychelles holding out on those two at Komodo was a really good idea. Something about them and their company wasn’t kosher.

  Peter led the way through the underbrush relatively easily, shouting warnings for them to be careful of upcoming obstacles that lay in their path. He was constantly on the lookout for the path of least resistance, but it was soon obvious that no one ventured to that place often enough for one to be produced. Then, just as he had thought it, Peter stumbled upon a trail cutting through the bush perpendicular to the direction they were walking in.

  “Hey guys,” he said. His voice was suddenly lowered. They all looked at him questioningly. “There’s a path through the forest here.”

  He motioned with his hand and continued, “It’s moving in this direction.”

  “Is it fresh?” Phoe asked.

  “As fresh as can be expected. It’s cleared out pretty well with machetes,” he confirmed.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” Eric exclaimed.

  ***

  Lucas Imperioli did not like the fact that he had sent ten of his best men after four Americans and a child and the few who had returned had done so without any hostages. And worse still, the others had managed to get themselves arrested. A fat lot of good Los Carnívoros had done him so far. The Catholics and his group of nerds seemed to have just vanished off the face of the planet and just as he had gotten another solid lead to follow, they’d proven that they couldn’t even kidnap a few people for him.

  Worse, he couldn’t get in touch with Mario, the only member of the gang who could possibly tell him what exactly had happened to the priest and his group. Mario would be the only one to confirm if the team really thought that they had a lead on finding the Fountain of Youth. However, just as Angelo Batista and the Buryats had disappeared, so had Mario. There was no answer on his cell phone or the satellite phone in the car. The GPS locator on both devices seemed to have been deactivated as well.

  He knew that the group had b
een narrowing in on the Fountain of Youth and that they had made a stop in Tibet before moving on to the Seychelles. Their location had been narrowed down that far just before Mario went silent.

  Mario had been trailing Batista for years. He had followed Batista into Mongolia when he and Thalia Phoenix had recovered the armor of Genghis Khan. Lucas had continued to have him follow Batista after the two separated, though he decided that it might be wise to have someone keep an eye on Thalia Phoenix as well.

  He had initially hoped to entice Batista to come on board with him in order to find the Fountain of Youth and split the profits. Batista and his group of historians were the world’s foremost authorities on all things relating to the numerous legends about the Fountain of Youth, and Lucas was certain that if anyone would ever be able to find it, it would be Batista. He had made a very generous offer to the Catholic historian, but Batista had told him to go to hell without even batting an eye. From that point forward, someone, usually Mario, had been assigned to trail him.

  When the trail following Batista became ice cold, he checked in on the man who had been watching Thalia Phoenix. She didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason to what she was doing, flitting about in her private jet before finally settling into her home on the Grand Canal in Venice. According to the informant who was watching her, two other men had joined her. Lucas’ ears began to perk up, wondering if the Vatican was putting together a search party.

  After the informant told him that a toddler had been delivered to Miss Phoenix’s front door in a basket, the wheels in his head began to grind. What would Miss Phoenix be doing with a toddler? When his men backtracked the trail to the man who had delivered the toddler to her door, they discovered that the child had been brought from the Seychelles, where Batista, Mario and the others had disappeared. With that tidbit of information, Lucas thought that he had a piece to the puzzle which was the key to the entire mystery. Getting his hands on the child would answer all of his questions.

  He was certain that if the imbeciles hadn’t screwed up the kidnapping and capture of the kid, he’d have the last piece to the puzzle and be in the perfect position to cash in on the opportunity. He had already had his COO, Ricardo Rodriguez, working on opening things up for Komodo to begin exploring the additional islands surrounding Mahé in order to make his claim more legitimate. The government hadn’t budged so far, but between increased economic pressure from outside sources not linked to Komodo and an increasingly positive presence in the area, Lucas was certain that by the time he had located the Fountain, he would be in a position to capitalize on it.

  After escaping the gang, the four Americans had gotten onto a private jet with the child and had tracked along behind Batista and the Buryats to Tibet. They had spent little time there, indicating that they were searching for the missing men as well. Did they have a better lead than he did? Some inside information? Perhaps a better informant? If he could get his hands on them, perhaps they would be able to shed some light on the location of their lost comrades and perhaps the Fountain as well. If not, at the very least, he needed to have them out of the picture. Once it was found, he would have to sit on the information until he could begin to put his plan into action of bottling an extremely diluted version of the water as a rejuvenative ‘health water.’ He would make fricking millions! Why? Because it wouldn’t be hype; the water was guaranteed to work.

  Lucas had set up Komodo Industries as a cover operation for the eventuality that he would find the Fountain of Youth somewhere in the Seychelles or within the Indian Ocean. It was one of many such companies that he had organized in various locations around the world, each of which bottled natural spring water.

  He believed wholeheartedly in the legend surrounding the Fountain of Youth and he was positioning himself to be able to make the enormous profit that would be had by the man who controlled the distribution of the water taken from it. Considering that every human being on the face of the planet would demand to drink that water, he’d be in a position to ask whatever price he wanted for it.

  Having that sort of control over the most sought-after tonic in human history would require a great deal of protection, and that was why he brought Mario and the gang of Los Carnívoros in. So far, they hadn’t provided a very good return on his investment. He drummed his fingers on his desk as he considered his next move. His thoughts were interrupted by the phone on his desk buzzing.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Imperioli, I’ve got a call patched through from a sat phone.”

  “Thank you.” He pushed the blinking light. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Sir?” The voice sounded confused. “Right here, like you asked me to be.”

  “Where’s Mario?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I did like you asked and I located his car. I’m talking to you on the sat phone in the car.”

  Lucas waited for some form of explanation or excuse.

  “The car was parked near the marina and my guess is that he rented a boat to go to one of the islands.”

  “Of course he did, idiot! Find out which one!”

  “Sir, there’s something else.”

  “Tell me.”

  “When I checked the airport to see if the car was there, I noticed a jet with several Americans on board had taxied in. I counted seven adults and a child. I trailed them to a hotel. They weren’t there for very long before four of them left. I followed them to the marina; that’s how I found the car.”

  So, they had also wound up in the Seychelles. At the very least, they were all stirring the same pot. He considered his options for a moment. Perhaps he should let them lead Los Carnívoros to the Fountain or, at the very least, to where Batista and the others had disappeared.

  “Get some of your guys to stay on them. Where’s the child?”

  “As near as I could tell, he is with the three adults that stayed in the hotel.”

  “Okay, Carlo, you have one person sit on that hotel. If they take the child anywhere outside the doors of that hotel, I want to know about it. Also…” He carefully considered what he was about to say. “If you get a chance to snatch one of the four, do it, but it must be discreet. I think the Americans will lead us to the others. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t screw this up, Carlo. I’ve put up with enough screw ups in the past week to have me on edge. Trust me, Carlo, you don’t want me on edge.” He placed the handset in the cradle on his desk, pressed his hands together and put his index fingers on the bridge of his nose. Things were about to heat up a little. One screw up could send his entire operation tumbling down.

  He considered grabbing the toddler and getting some answers, but decided that for the time being, it would be better not to get things too stirred up. Snatching a toddler would certainly draw the kind of attention that he didn’t need at the moment. He might have gotten away with it in Venice, but the island of Mahé and the entire Seychelles area was much smaller and things could be too easily unraveled. Besides, he would likely have to eliminate the other three adults with the toddler, and that would certainly create a mess.

  He had been patient thus far; another day or two of waiting would not hurt. Still, he couldn’t help thinking that the child was the key. He even entertained the notion that the child could be someone who had actually taken a drink from the Fountain of Youth. If that was the case, he might only be days from the greatest discovery in human history.

  Chapter Seven

  The 12th century “Letter of Prester John” about a legendary Christian prince who lived somewhere in Ethiopia or the Far East, also mentions the fountain of youth: “The miraculous spring is located on an island in the extreme meridian of the world, where long-lived people drew from its waters enjoying lasting health and renewal of youth.” —The History of the Fountain of Youth

  ***

  With Mario out of the picture, whether permanently or temporarily, Carlo was the one to take charge.

  He had been backup to Mario for year
s and he was ready to take his shot at being in charge. He wasn’t in second place because he wasn’t skilled; he was in second place because Mario was better. Mario was the best of the entire organization of Los Carnívoros. The fact that he had disappeared had Carlo on edge. If Mario had screwed up, then there must be some serious shit involved.

  He had acted as though he was interested in renting the particular boat that he had seen the Americans leave in and easily gained information concerning the destination of the group. His informant hadn’t been able to tell him how long the party had intended to stay on Ile Moyenne, but was informed that particular boat and its captain would not be available for several days as he and his craft had been very well paid in advance to remain on call until the group left the island. He was subsequently directed toward another boat and captain, which he hired. Soon, he had two other members of the gang on board with him speeding out toward the island.

  As luck would have it, they met the boat that had dropped the Americans off as it was leaving the island. Carlo lined up the probable location where the boat had been beached to unload and directed the captain toward the spot. Once they were dropped on the beach, they spread out and looked for tracks. They weren’t hard to find on the deserted beach and within moments, the three of them were plunging through the dense foliage along the easy-to-read path of the four Americans.

  When they came adjacent to the trail that Peter had discovered not more than ten minutes earlier, they picked up their pace.

  “They will be taking their time, thinking that they are alone or perhaps they are even searching. We should be able to make up a lot of ground and catch up to them,” he told the two that were with him.

  In no time at all, they could hear the voices of the group as they continued along the trail in front of them. He motioned to the others to remain silent and kept an eye on the one slender, nerd-like guy bringing up the rear. He stopped for a moment and whispered to the other two.