Cryptid Quest: A Supernatural Thriller (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 8)

by Anthony M. Strong

  “I wish I knew,” Decker said between bites.

  “You do something bad?”

  “No.” Decker scooped up a piece of ham and mopped egg yolk with it before popping it into his mouth. “But I think it might have something to do with our job, and why we came here.”

  “You are going deep into Amazon jungle, right?” Paulo asked.

  “Yes.” Decker nodded. “But I can’t share more than that.”

  “It is a secret, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand.” Now it was Paulo’s turn to nod. “A word of warning. The jungle is wild place. Easy to get killed. You should reconsider. I don’t want you to get hurt, or worse.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Decker said. “People are depending on us. Lives are at stake.”

  “What if the gunmen follow you to jungle?”

  “I don’t know,” Decker said. This thought had been on his mind since the night before. The men in the black SUV, or whoever they worked for, would not give up, he was sure. He pushed his empty plate away. “Now, I think it’s time that we left.”

  “Sure.” Paulo stood up. “You get your bags, and I meet you at car.”

  “Hold up a moment.” Decker took out his wallet and opened it. He removed the last of his bank notes and handed them to Aline. “For your trouble.”

  Aline’s eyes flew wide. She counted the notes, then talked excitedly to her brother.

  Paulo listened, then turned to Decker. “My sister says she cannot accept this. It is too much. Five hundred real.”

  “Is not too much,” Decker said. “If I had it, I’d give her more. You’re risking your lives for us. Tell her it’s the least we can do.”

  Paulo bit his lip thoughtfully, then relayed the message to his sister.

  She studied Decker for a moment, then came around the table and gripped him in a vice-like hug.

  Decker waited for the grateful woman to release him, then put a hand on Paulo’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  “Sure, sure. I get my keys and meet you at the taxi.” Paulo scurried off.

  Decker noticed Rory looking at him. “What? You going to give me a hard time about the expense report again?”

  Rory merely shrugged. “Not at all. I was just thinking it’s a shame we can’t take Paulo with us. He’s proved pretty useful so far.”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure his sister would like that.” Decker started toward the bedroom. “Come on, let’s get our bags and get to that helicopter. I can’t wait to meet this mysterious Egyptologist woman you’re too afraid to ask out on a date even though you shared a moment in a tent during a sandstorm.”

  “I’m not afraid to ask her out,” Rory said, hurrying along behind Decker. “I’m afraid she’ll say no. That’s much worse.”

  20

  It took Paulo less than forty-five minutes to make it to the airport, which he declared was a personal record. When they arrived, he followed the perimeter road, ignoring the commercial passenger terminal, and took them to an FBO on the far side of the airport instead. FBO stood for Fixed-Base Operator. It was the same private terminal that CUSP’s own jet had used the previous day. That aircraft was long gone, having flown back to the United States after dropping them off. Now they were here to meet the helicopter for the last leg of their journey to base camp.

  When they parked, Paulo turned to face Decker and Rory, who were in the back. “See. I get you here on time, just like I promised.”

  “Thank you,” Decker glanced around the parking lot, looking for the black SUV. There was no sign of it. If the killers were here, they used a different vehicle. He looked back at Paulo. “One more thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, especially after all you’ve done, but can you wait here? Just until we confirm the helicopter hasn’t been compromised.”

  “Sure. Sure. I wait right here,” Paulo said. “I want to make sure you leave safely.”

  “I appreciate that. Give us fifteen minutes. That should be enough time,” Decker said. “If it all looks good, we’ll be back for our bags. If we don’t return it means the gunmen found us and we’re dead. In that case, I want you to get as far away from the airport as possible. Understand?”

  “Sure, sure.” Paulo nodded. “I wait fifteen minutes. No longer.”

  “Good.” Decker climbed out of the cab. Together he and Rory approached the terminal, which was really nothing more than a square building constructed of concrete blocks that sat between two large aircraft hangars.

  There was only one person inside, lounging behind a scuffed and worn counter. A bored-looking man in his sixties with a deeply lined and tanned face. He was wearing a Panama hat and blue tie-dye shirt, which made him look more like a lost tourist than an airport employee.

  The waiting area was hardly plush. Three rows of hard plastic seats occupied the center of the room. A soda vending machine stood against the wall opposite the counter. Faded posters advertising rainforest helicopter tours and ecotourism trips dotted the walls.

  When they entered, the man looked up with watery eyes.

  “No tours until this afternoon,” he said in heavily accented English.

  “We’re not here for a tour,” Decker said. “We chartered a helicopter to take us into the Amazon.”

  The man observed them with disinterest. “I don’t deal with private charters. Tour bookings only.”

  "No problem,” Decker said. “Do you know where we can find our charter?”

  “You will want the hanger,” The man replied. He was chewing something Decker had assumed was gum, but now he turned his head to one side and spit a wad of mushy brown tobacco into a garbage can. When he turned his attention back to them, a bead of tobacco juice clung to his lower lip, threatening to dribble down his chin. He licked it away and swallowed before speaking again.

  “How do we find this hanger?” Decker asked.

  The old man nodded toward the door next to the counter. “Go through there and follow the corridor. When you get outside turn right and you’ll be there. Can’t miss it. Big doors.”

  “Thanks.” Decker turned to leave, then checked himself. “Has anyone else shown up here this morning?”

  “Sure.” the old man nodded. “Couple of bad looking hombres. I sent them back there already.”

  “And they were looking for our flight?” Decker felt his gut clench. It appeared he was right to be cautious.

  Again, the old man shrugged. “Don’t know. Said they were with the charter company. Something about a pre-flight maintenance check.”

  “Are they still here?” Decker asked.

  “Probably. Didn’t see them leave.”

  Decker looked at Rory, then started toward the door. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Then why are we still going to the hangar?” Rory asked as they stepped into the corridor and followed it airside.

  “To make sure.” Decker pulled the door open, and they stepped out into the bright sunshine. “For all we know, they really are technicians.”

  The hangar’s main doors stood open, and Decker could see the nose of a helicopter within. He approached slowly, motioning for Rory to stay silent now.

  When he reached the doors, he stopped short and peered around the corner. There was a man standing near the helicopter. He wore green overalls with a pair of pilot’s wings pinned over the left breast pocket. He watched for a while, but the pilot appeared to be alone. There was no sign of the technicians the old man told them about, and no indication anything was amiss. Even so, Decker’s sixth sense—his cop intuition—was jangling.

  Rory tapped him on the shoulder and whispered. “You see anything?”

  “No.” Decker didn’t know why, but his unease was growing. Something didn’t feel right.

  Then he saw what it was.

  The pilot lifted his hand and sucked on a cigarette. He blew out a stream of smoke as his hand dropped back to his side.

  Decker turned to Rory. �
��The pilot is smoking.”

  “So?” Rory shrugged. “Who cares? At least he’s not chewing tobacco and spitting it out in front of us.”

  “You don’t understand.” Decker risked another look around the corner toward the helicopter. “No pilot would smoke in a hangar so close to an aircraft.”

  “In the United States, maybe. You’re forgetting where we are.”

  “I don’t think so,” Decker said, spotting movement out of the corner of his eye. A second man emerged from further back in the hangar, also wearing an overall, although this one didn’t have pilot swings. What it did have was a dark stain on the front that looked very much like blood. But it was the gun in his hand that confirmed Decker’s suspicion. A Makarov PB just like the one he’d taken from the man in the restaurant kitchen the previous day.

  Decker turned to Rory and ushered him backwards towards the waiting room. “We need to leave, right now.”

  “Those goons from yesterday?”

  Decker nodded grimly. “And they killed our pilot. This is a trap.”

  21

  “They killed our pilot?” Rory hurried to keep up with Decker as they rushed back through the FBO waiting room and out into the parking lot. “That’s awful. What are we going to do now?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Decker started toward the taxi. “But as I suspected, it’s not safe here.”

  “Do you think they have someone watching the parking lot?”

  “Unlikely. They wouldn’t want to lose the element of surprise if we spotted them.”

  “What about the old guy in the waiting room?” Rory asked. “Was he in on it, too?”

  “Doubtful.” Decker shook his head.

  As they drew close to the taxi, Paulo looked up. “You are back.”

  “We need to leave, right now.”

  “Your flight no good?” Paulo asked.

  “No. Those men that chased us yesterday killed the pilot. They were waiting to murder us, too.”

  “Where you want to go, then?”

  “I don’t know,” Decker admitted. “We need to find another way into the Amazon.”

  Paulo was silent for a moment, then he motioned for them to jump back into the cab. “Come along. I have idea.”

  “He’d better not be planning to drive us all the way to base camp himself,” Rory said to Decker as they climbed back into the cab. “I’m not sure how much more I can take riding around in this taxi. I’d say the suspension is shot, but I’m not sure it has any.”

  “Hey, it’s better than being dead.” Decker leaned forward and tapped their driver on the shoulder. “Where are you taking us?”

  “You will see.” Paulo put the car in gear and steered out of the parking lot. He turned left onto the airport’s perimeter road and sped away.

  Decker twisted in his seat and looked through the rear window. The road behind them was empty. No one was following, which meant the gunmen were still back at the hanger. It would be a couple of hours before the killers realized they were waiting in vain. But it would all be for nothing if they couldn’t find alternative transportation.

  But Paulo came to the rescue once again.

  He followed the road until they came to a set of gates in the perimeter fence about as far from the airport’s commercial terminal as it was possible to get. One gate was open, sitting askew on its hinges. Beyond this was a small parking lot and a concrete pad surrounded by another chain-link fence. Within sat an aging helicopter with the name Rainforest Sky Tours written in fading paint along the copter’s tail. There was no waiting room or hanger here.

  Paulo pulled beyond the gates and stopped short of the helicopter. He got out and banged on the top of the cab for Decker and Rory to follow.

  “I find you new ride,” the taxi driver said as Decker climbed out. “What do you think?”

  Rory circled around from the other side of the taxi. He stared at the helicopter in disbelief. “I think I’d rather take my chances with those gunmen back there.”

  “It is fine,” Paulo said. “I bring people here all the time to take tour. No crashes yet.”

  “He’s not filling me with confidence,” Rory said to Decker.

  “We’ll be fine.” Decker gave the road one more glance, just to make sure.

  When he looked back, the helicopter’s side door was open, and a thick-set woman dressed in blue jeans and a white polo shirt was striding toward them. She had long black hair pulled into a ponytail and wore no makeup. Decker guessed she was in her mid-thirties.

  “Paulo. My man. You bring me more victims… I mean tourists,” she said in a West Coast accent.

  The pilot was American, which surprised Decker. “We’re not tourists. We want to charter your helicopter to take us into the jungle.”

  “Charter?” The woman looked at Paulo. “You know I don’t do private charters. Strictly sightseeing tours.”

  “These are my friends,” Paulo said. “They are in much trouble. Need to escape danger. Please, Cathy.”

  “Great. Like that’s going to convince me.” The woman looked at Decker. “What did you do, rob a bank?”

  “Nothing like that. We’re archaeologists,” Decker said, fudging the truth. “We need to get to our base camp to meet the rest of our group. It’s very important. Will you help us?”

  “Why would a couple of archaeologists be in trouble?”

  “It’s a long story,” Decker said.

  “We made a discovery and rival archaeologists want to steal it from us,” Rory said, stepping in. “It’s a professional hazard.”

  “Rival archaeologists, huh?” The pilot said. “Doesn’t sound that dangerous to me.”

  “Will you help us, or not?” Decker was losing patience. He couldn’t be sure the two guys at the hangar were the only people looking for them. Their pursuers might appear at any moment, realizing Decker and Rory had rumbled their plan, and the helipad was too open. They wouldn’t stand a chance if bullets started flying.

  The woman looked at Paulo. “You vouch for these guys?”

  “Yes. I vouch for them.” Paulo nodded. “They good people.”

  “Fine. Where is this place you need to get to, and how far?”

  “I have the coordinates memorized,” Decker said. “I’ll give them to you when we’re in the air. It’s about a hundred and sixty miles from here.”

  “Yikes. That’s right on the edge of my range. Pretty much a full tank of fuel there and back.” Cathy thought for a moment. “There room to land?”

  Decker nodded. “Our colleagues took a chopper out there a few days ago.”

  “Fine.” Cathy made a tutting sound. “Two thousand dollars, US.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Decker said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Hey, that’s the friends and family rate. Take it or leave it.”

  “We don’t have that kind of cash,” Decker said. He had given all their cash money to Paulo and his sister. He had no intention of asking for any of it back, especially given Paulo’s need.

  “You got a credit card?” Cathy asked. “I’m flexible.”

  “I do, but we can’t use it,” Decker told her. Even though their credit cards were issued under false names and couldn’t be traced back to CUSP, that didn’t mean someone inside their own organization wasn’t watching to see if the cards were used. “Too dangerous. We’re travelling under the radar.”

  “Ain’t that a pickle.” Cathy shook her head. “I’m not sure what Paulo here told you, but I’m not a charity.”

  “What about this?” Rory slipped a watch off his wrist and offered it to her. “Collateral until we get back. Upon our return, we’ll be able to pay you everything you want. We’ll even give you twenty percent more for your trouble.”

  Cathy looked at the watch. “Why would I take that?”

  “It’s a Tissot,” Rory said. “Automatic movement. Exhibition case. Turn it over and look at the back. It’s glass. You can see the inner workings. I paid over fifteen-hundred dollars for it.” />
  “That’s still five hundred bucks short. And used, I bet that watch isn’t worth half what you claim.”

  “Come on. Cut us a break. Like I said, we’ll make it right once we get back.”

  “I don’t work on promises,” Cathy said, but even so she took the watch and examined it.

  “Take this, too.” Paulo dug into his pocket and removed the wad of money Decker had given him the previous day. He held it out to the pilot. “Here. For you.”

  “Wait.” Decker said. “That cash is for you. We’ll find another way if necessary.”

  “I agree.” Cathy gave the taxi driver a stern look. “There’s no way I’m taking one single penny of your money, Paulo. You need everything you can get your hands on for that kid of yours down in Rio. Put it away, for heaven’s sake.”

  “So, you will take them for the watch?” Paulo asked, hopeful.

  “Haven’t decided yet.” Cathy rubbed her chin, still looking at the watch.

  “You will do this for me, please?” Paulo said. “I help you when the Red Militia want to use your helicopter for drug smuggling. I make them go away. You help me, we will be even.”

  “Aw, hell. I was wondering when you’d bring that up.”

  “Does that mean you will do it?”

  “Sure. Against my better judgement, I might add.” She fixed Paulo with a deadpan stare. “But we’re even now, okay?”

  “Yes, yes. We are even.” Paulo nodded.

  The pilot looked at Decker and Rory. “Come on then, your sky limo awaits.” Then she turned and started back toward the helicopter. “But I’m keeping the watch until you pay me.”

  Decker picked his bag up and turned to Paulo. “Thank you.”

  “No worries, my friend. You stay safe and find me when you get back.”

  “We will,” Decker said. “And keep your head down. You might have made some dangerous enemies in the last twenty-four hours.”

  “I can handle that,” Paulo said with a wave of his hand. “No worries.”

  “I have a feeling that you can,” Decker said, then he followed the pilot toward the helicopter, with Rory a step behind. Ahead of them, a hundred and sixty miles distant, base camp waited.