“Who are you? What do you do in Lima?” Drake demanded.
“I’m a businessman. I arrange things. I fix things. I cross borders with anything besides drugs. Money, people, papers, whatever.”
“Then you’re a smuggler,” Drake said.
“Sure. If it pays. Why — you have something against smugglers? Your grandpa here was trying to hire one of the most notorious in the area,” Spencer replied evenly.
“Where are you from?” Jack asked.
“Central Valley, California.”
“How did you wind up in Peru?”
“I spent some time in the service. When I got out, I realized that I wasn’t cut out for standing behind a counter greeting people or pushing a mop. So I decided to travel until I found something that interested me. Peru interested me. That was twelve years ago.”
“What did you do in the army?” Jack asked.
“I didn’t say I was in the army. I said the service.”
“How about you tell me exactly what you did. Because this is already sounding like make-believe to me,” Jack said.
“Make-believe? Fine. After a stint in the navy I wound up as a SEAL. For four years. I won’t talk about specific missions, but you look like a man who’s spent time in the trenches. Figure it out.”
“And now you’re a lowlife in a third world backwater,” Drake said flatly.
Spencer’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed. “You’ve got a pretty smart mouth. What’s your claim to fame? Impress me.”
“I don’t have to impress you. I’m not asking for a job,” Drake fired back.
“Neither am I. You called me, not the other way around.”
Drake turned to Jack. “I don’t like him. Let’s find someone else.”
Spencer laughed. “That’s rich. You still don’t get it. There is nobody else. Just cheats and addicts trying to con you out of your cash. You may not like me, but I’m the best chance you’ve got. Assuming I’m interested. Which so far, I’m not.” Spencer sat back. “I can get you the weapons within forty-eight hours. The rest? Good luck. Better leave instructions on where to send your bodies, assuming anyone finds them. Because at the rate you’re going, you’re history.”
Jack cleared his throat. “All right. Enough of this. We don’t need to fall in love. We need to be able to work together. Why should we trust you?”
“Because you’ll make it worth my while to be trustworthy. That’s why.” Spencer shifted. “Now I’ve got some questions of my own. But first, tell me why you need an arsenal — and why you want to go into the rainforest. And don’t make it up. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I’ll get your popguns, and best of luck. Although I’ve got to warn you — the jungle traffickers are loaded for way bigger bear than you, so you’ll need more than what you’ve asked for to survive a week. They’ve got grenades. Fifty cals. Every conceivable weapon you can imagine.” Spencer gave Drake a dismissive laugh. “And you expect to go into their backyard and walk out alive? Don’t make me laugh.”
“Fine. Get the guns. We’ll take our chances,” Drake said, the color rising in his cheeks.
Jack shook his head and glared at Drake. “Easy, huh?” He turned to Spencer. “Here’s my proposal. Find us the weapons. We’ll pay a reasonable amount. If you get them in a timely manner, we’ll consider telling you what you want to know. How much do you need up front?”
Spencer laughed. “Five grand. Cash. But I’ll tell you what. We can play a game. You can either give me the five now, and the price will be ten, or you can give me nothing, and when I have the weapons, the price will be twelve. Call it bridge building. You have to earn trust to get it. Your choice.”
Drake and Jack exchanged glances. “We’ll take the twelve. You sure you can have the weapons that quickly?” Jack asked.
Spencer stood. “I already have the AKs. They’re the most requested weapon down here. More punch than M4s — better stopping power, even if not as accurate. But in the jungle you won’t be sharpshooting, so an AK’s a solid choice. It’s the SIG Sauers that’ll take a little creativity. Very popular, but getting three on short notice in new condition without any paperwork…they’d normally go for more like a grand apiece through legit channels, but seeing as you probably don’t want to bother with reams of paperwork…”
Jack nodded. “That’s right.”
“Then it’s a deal. You have my number. Call me tomorrow. I’ll be around.”
With a parting glare for Drake, Spencer left, leaving Jack and Drake alone with their coffee. Jack finished his cup and sighed.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Should be obvious. I don’t like him. It feels like he’s playing us. Too slick. I feel like I need to check my wallet after talking to him for five minutes.”
“I don’t disagree. But perhaps he’s confident because he knows what he’s doing? You have to admit — ex-SEAL commands some respect.”
“If what he said was true.”
“I believe him. There’s a look. You get to know it. He’s got that look. And he recognized it in me the first time he saw me.”
Drake shook his head and frowned. “You can’t be seriously thinking about including him in this.”
“We need all the help we can get. Having a seasoned player to guide us could be a lifesaver. When your father and I went into the jungle, it wasn’t crawling with drug smugglers. But it is now, and without a guide that knows the ropes, this will be over before it starts. So I don’t think we can dismiss him so easily. Let’s see what he does with the weapons. If he performs, I say we tell him what we’re doing, and cut him in on a share. The only way a guy like that’s going to go all in is if he thinks he’s going to get a home run out of it. Otherwise he’ll just be hired help, and you’ll always be looking over your shoulder.”
“Of course, there’s nothing to stop him from killing all of us once we find the treasure.”
Jack eyed him with a small smile and stood. “I’m not so easy to kill. You can start with that.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Spencer answered his phone when Jack called the next day — a promising sign. They agreed to meet at a warehouse in the Comas district, on the northern edge of town, at 4:00 p.m. When the three of them piled into the taxi and told the driver the address, he looked at them with hesitation, then shrugged and flipped the meter on.
Allie had insisted on coming this time. She didn’t like being excluded, and had made a compelling argument that since she was part of the expedition — and the only one with archaeology training, she pointed out — she wanted a say in who they took on as a partner. Jack tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. Drake stayed out of the argument, although he didn’t like her joining them for the meeting any more than Jack did.
Drake had found a wide-brimmed hat for the jungle, and was wearing it in spite of the ribbing he’d taken from Allie when she’d seen him with it on.
“Wow. Are you making a low-budget remake of Raiders of the Lost Ark? What’s next? The whip?” she’d teased.
He’d ignored her taunts, figuring that he’d be glad for the protection it afforded from the sun.
The neighborhood degraded as they rolled over increasingly rough pavement. The downtown area storefronts transitioned to graffiti-covered eyesores with bars across the windows, razor wire circling the tops and rusting rebar jutting above the roofs. Groups of youths loitered on the corners, trash clogged the gutters, and Drake understood the driver’s reticence when they’d given him their destination. Eventually the buildings gave way to large industrial warehouses, many of unfinished gray cinderblock, and the streets became more ruts and potholes than asphalt.