Strangers

STRANGERS

I

The van ride wasn’t pleasant. The driver seemed to plow through every single bump and dip in the road. Anne’s bones jarred with each bounce. She clenched her teeth and fired a glare at Ruben, but he already knew her agitation. He kept looking out the window in the opposite direction.

While Anne and Ruben sat in the back of the van, Raul was in a seat in front of them. He made occasional quiet exchanges with the other two at the front.

The vehicle’s driver was a large man with a shaved head who spoke almost entirely in grunts. The other man, who sat in the passenger’s seat, was a skinny man with a bunched wad of dark curly hair on top of his head. The driver kept his eyes on the road. The other man kept turning his head toward the back of the van and looking at Anne a bit too often.

Anne was grateful when they rolled into Huancayo. She climbed out with Ruben and Raul. Raul went to business with assembling supplies for their journey. Ruben went with him. Anne also decided to go along, but stayed out of their way. It didn’t take long for her to decide she wanted no part of the haggling and arguing Raul seemed to dive into during every exchange.

Raul was crude, shouting, cursing, and belittling the merchants. When he concluded the moment’s business, he turned back to Anne and Ruben and his previous pleasantness returned in an instant. Raul had the ability to berate someone like a trash-eating dog one minute and shake hands with a smile the next.

Raul led them to another street corner where a smaller white hatchback vehicle with chipped paint and rust spots waited for them. Raul and Ruben loaded in their olive-green supply packs which were cram-packed with supplies of new climbing gear, food fit to last for their travel, and assorted other items.

Raul climbed into the passenger’s seat. Ruben and Anne squeezed into the back.

Their driver was an amiable gentleman this time, someone Raul seemed to know from frequent dealings in the past. They chatted in the front while Anne sat in silence, looking around at the torn upholstery and dirty windows. Ruben stared ahead.

Even if the dirty car smelled like stale sweat, at least the drive wasn’t as bad this time around. Anne peered between the two in the front and tried to look through the front windshield. She couldn’t see much because of the smudged glass.

Raul noticed her leaning forward. He turned his head to one side and regarded her from the corner of an eye.

“Once we are on foot,” he said to her, “we will still have a long way to go. Are you ready?”

“I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be,” she replied. “It’s too late to turn back now, don’t you think?”

Raul gave a nod. He donned his polite smile.

“This will not be easy,” he said, “but don’t worry. I will do my best.”

They were deposited on foot somewhere along a narrow road in the middle of who-knew-where. Anne heaved a supply pack onto her back and secured it in place. In her arms she carried another bag, the duffel bag she had brought from her home in St. Charles.

As the car departed, they left the road on foot by Raul’s direction. He led them across the green land until it darkened with the sun’s falling. When night surrounded, Raul stopped to unload his gear.

“We will need our rest,” he explained, “and food. It is important that we take care of ourselves. When we reach the mountains . . . ”

Raul gave a shake of his head, as if this was enough of an explanation in itself. Over the next half-hour, they unpacked and set up camp.

At first, Anne was apprehensive. Taking a night’s rest out here under the stars, so vulnerable, didn’t appeal to her.

Was it that her mind kept wandering back to that incident in St. Charles when she was attacked in her own home? She wasn’t certain, but she knew she didn’t feel safe anymore.

Inside the tent, with Raul and Ruben right outside, Anne succumbed to a broken, troubled night’s sleep. She opened her eyes several times in the night and listened, only to hear the random nocturnal sounds of nature, the skittering of a small animal, or the mournful wailing of birds.

II

The morning saw a quick meal of bread and sour cherry jam accompanied by cups of black coffee. “Any sleep?” Ruben asked Anne.

“Not much,” Anne replied, her hair a mess as she sat huddled over her cup of coffee. After breakfast, the three broke down the camp for a prompt continuation of their journey.

The great mountains towered in the distance. For countless steps, that distance remained vast, the mountains appearing to come no closer. Anne did herself no favors by keeping her eyes on the horizon throughout much of the trek. When the signs of a village came into view, this gave the monotony and her thoughts an initially welcome diversion.

A couple of men sat with their backs against the wall of a tiny, worn brown house. Both of them stared. Another man farther along the road smoked a hand-rolled cigarette and watched their every movement. When they met the stares, the dark eyes were flat and unreadable.

“What is this place?” Ruben asked Raul. Raul shook his head.

“They are suspicious of strangers here,” Raul said, managing to avoid Ruben’s question altogether.

Ruben didn’t press the inquiry. He decided in kind with Anne that if this place had a name, it didn’t matter.

Anne drew more stares than the two men with her. With her contrast of such lighter features, she stood apart. For another, she was a woman, the only one around, as far as she could see—and not a typical one at that.

She didn’t allow it to bother her. She didn’t plan on staying here long.

She focused her attention on the horizon. She could see the mountain expanses, standing majestic, brown and trailed with white.

Ruben’s eyes followed her gaze. He made no effort to conceal the doubt that reentered him at the sight of the grand peaks. The heavy reality of their journey penetrated the silence between them.

Anne looked to their guide. “Raul, have you ever heard anything about an ancient graveyard somewhere up there in the mountains?”

She wasn’t sure “graveyard” was the correct term, given the obscurity of what she sought, Anne knew, but why not ask?

Raul drew his eyebrows together, puzzled. “In the area we are traveling? No. Why do you ask?”

Anne shook her head. She didn’t feel like explaining right now. She lifted the duffel bag by its strap, which she had looped around her hand. “It isn’t known to most people. I thought I should ask, though, since you’ve traveled this way before.”

“No,” Raul said.

“How many others have you guided along that specific route?”

“I am not sure,” Raul said. “None that I remember. But don’t worry. I will get you there.”

Anne saw that most of the people were still watching her, though some had gone into their homes or other buildings.

“That’s reassuring, Raul,” she responded at last. “And helpful.”

III

On the road, Javier said to Keller, “There will be a price.”

“Of course,” Keller responded with some flippancy. “There always is.”

Javier glanced at the man. “This is an important matter to you,” he assessed.

“I wouldn’t waste my time otherwise,” Keller said.

Javier’s dark eyes studied Keller. Keller hadn’t made a detailed explanation of the reasons for the job, but he was a paying client, and his money was good. In most cases, this proved sufficient.

Anne’s flight to Lima only solidified Keller’s hunch that Damon Sharpe, through his research of the lost Peruvian treasures, had known something of value, or at least strongly believed he had. Even if Sharpe was dead, Keller wasn’t prepared to afford the man another victory.

Remembering his father’s failure was like picking at a scab. The thought of Damon’s wife securing some final redemption for her husband’s work sickened him like an infection working beneath.

Thinking of it brought a lethal compound to simmer within. More flashes of memory assaulted him. He remembered his father’s drunken tears, then his death. He remembered standing in that blue-carpeted funeral parlor where Anne Sharpe had hit him right in the face. Keller clenched his teeth at the memory.

Javier still watched Keller. He saw the cold steel that came into his eyes. He knew the look. This wasn’t a mere business trip.

“I understand, in my way,” Javier said. While his tone was pleasant, no smile touched his face. “Some things are personal. I assure you, Mr. Keller, if you can meet my price, I will not allow them to slip away from us.”

“Good.”

Well after Anne, Ruben, and Raul had departed from the small village, pushing toward the mountains, the three men arrived along the course of their own journey. Their clothes were rumpled. They traveled light. They had sacrificed most notions of comfort for the sake of haste.

“You’ve done a good job tracking them,” Keller said to Javier. “I’ll make sure you’re well-compensated for your work.”

Javier gave no reply. He scrutinized their surroundings and the people who watched them.

The staring made Vince uncomfortable. He shifted on his feet, watching the people of the village, and reached into his jacket for the reassurance of his switchblade.

“From what you have told me,” Javier said to Keller after some delay, “I believe I know which way they have gone, but we should do some asking. The people here must have seen them pass through.”

“Do you think any of them will talk?” Keller asked.

“They will,” Javier said, “once I make them.”

Javier put a hand into his light jacket and unsnapped a pistol from its leather shoulder holster. His hand closed around the cold weapon, his finger resting against its trigger.