She ignored his query and went on. “At first, that didn’t mean much to me. Really, that car could have been headed anywhere. Adriana had a renewed energy. She pulled the laptop around and stroked a few keys. Google appeared and then she typed in a few more. A second later, a listing of Ecuadorian maps appeared, all featuring prominent rivers.
She scanned the screen with her finger and then found what she was looking for and tapped the screen with her nail. “The Zamora River,” she said. “Mauricio, is that a dirty river? I’ve never been in that area before.”
He nodded. “Hmm. Yes, it is. Lots of dirt and silt from the mountains wash into it. It’s over towards the border with Peru. The original settlers in that area called it Father River.”
Sean raised an eyebrow. “Ok, but that river has got to be pretty long, right? The odds of us finding the location or Tommy are both slim to none. Plus, we don’t know for sure they went that way.”
Her face grew stern. “It’s the only lead we have, Sean. Right now, we don’t have any other choice.”
She was leaning close to him. He could smell a sweet, simple perfume that she must have put on earlier in the morning after her shower. The scent lingered for a second, distracting him from the job at hand. Quickly, he regained his senses.
“What about the washing seven times?” Mauricio interrupted his thoughts. “That must have something to do with the solution to the riddle.”
Sean and Adriana looked at him.
“You’re right,” Sean said. He typed in a few more words and pulled up several different images of the river from tourist blogs and a number of other resources. Then something caught his eye. “Does the Zamora have any waterfalls?” he asked.
Mauricio nodded. “Not too many dramatic ones but yes, it has several waterfalls. Why?”
“Because if you go over water falls you will go under the river, right? Just like in the Bible story where he was told to go under seven times. Maybe the clue in the text is that the location of the entrance to the chamber is at the seventh waterfall.”
The stout Latino man nodded slowly. Then he pointed at the map on the monitor. “Up here is where the river begins.”
His finger moved slightly to the line of another river. “Notice this other river begins here. The two will join at this point.” He traced the line to where it and the Zamora became one. “There is a waterfall right here.” He tapped the screen to emphasize his point.
“I’m guessing there are six others, three in each river, before you get to that spot,” Sean said.
“Probably,” Delgado agreed. “It’s worth a shot.”
Sean became silent. His mind raced. Then he said, “Maury, remember the Priest’s garden? The pathways became one under the tree. These two rivers,” he looked at the screen again, “they become one here too.”
“It would appear we are headed east,” Adriana said with a smile.
Wyatt’s face filled with determination. “Yes, it would.”
Angela watched as the three exited the hotel. She sat perfectly still as they got in their cars and drove down the road leading back towards the city. She spoke to a middle-aged man standing next to her, telling him to get everyone rolling. He had a different appearance than the rest of her group, sporting a thick, brown beard with a few strands of gray. The beard matched the man’s hair in thickness and in color. Most of the team were young, probably in their mid to late twenties. This man, though, looked to be in his upper forties. Mercenary work was not something that usually had a long career span. So either this guy was good at what he did or he was some kind of action junkie. Either way, she was glad he was on her side. He’d joined up with her team in the middle of the night, a special guest she’d heard of and called upon after the fiasco at the church.
She’d heard everything Wyatt and his friends had said thanks to a listening device positioned right outside their room. The little group was heading east to a location near some river. She’d never liked puzzles or riddles. It wasn’t that she wasn’t smart enough to solve them. She felt it was just a waste of time. It was much easier to be a parasite and just follow along, letting their host do the hard work. Then her unit could make the grab when the time was right. That was what she knew. Killing was as simple as pulling a trigger. Stealing was just reaching out at the right moment and taking it. Her team’s vehicles had been parked back on the other side of the building so as to go unseen by Wyatt and his friends. She’d left drivers with them for the ability to get moving quickly when needed. As Angela expected, the SUVs pulled around a few moments later and her team loaded up.
The winding drive down the mountain was scenic, something she’d been unable to notice the night before. The expanse of the city spread out in the basin below, edging upward into mountains far away. She was not a nostalgic person, nor one who carried a great deal of sentiment. Most of the pleasures she enjoyed in life were not what others would consider “normal.” But she didn’t care. Her religious beliefs differed from most people. She and James had been tutored directly by The Prophet right out of college. He’d told them the truth about the Christian religion they’d grown up with and how it was a bunch of myths and grand tales built to control the masses with fear and promises of a fantastic afterlife. Instead, he’d shown them a different path. She never really latched onto his religious zeal. To her, life presented too many delights to pass up on the off chance there might be a judgment. On the other hand, Angela figured it was okay to hedge her bets just in case.
She smiled as the sun’s rays splashed onto her face through the windshield. The convoy continued down the road, nearing the outlying buildings of the city. She was proud of herself for being able to push beyond mere human emotions and do the job she knew she had to do. And at last, she was close to her reward.
Chapter 62
Eric Jennings sat casually in his desk chair, shuffling through some paperwork. He felt like nothing could touch him. Even the menial tasks of reviewing reports and checking up on other assignments couldn’t bring him down. He’d managed to eliminate his two biggest loose ends, his only loose ends. Perhaps killing Emily Starks wasn’t necessary. After all, she didn’t know anything yet. But it was only a matter of time until she asked too many questions. Just like Sam Townsend had.
He felt no remorse for the murders. It was just a means to an end. Jennings had given the best years of his life for the Department of Justice and for what, some measly retirement account that would barely cover his monthly expenses? Well, barely as far as his needs were concerned.
His mind drifted to some of those needs. One of the escorts would do nicely for the evening. He deserved a treat, after all. Maybe he would get the tall red head. Since the police were still investigating the death of the intruder in his home, he was staying at a hotel a few blocks up from his office, which was perfect since he preferred the women not know where he lived. He became eager at the thought of the fun he would have and after a few more minutes of sorting out the last of the paperwork, picked up his cell phone. A key to his hotel room would be left at the front desk for his female companion. She could make herself comfortable and expect him around six in the evening.
Satisfied with his decision, Jennings hung up the phone and grabbed a television remote that was sitting on his desk nearby. He pressed a few buttons and came across the news report he’d been waiting for. A slender, African-American woman with creamy, cocoa skin was reporting that Sam Townsend had been found, shot dead in his home earlier that morning. His maid found the body. The hysterical Russian woman was sobbing uncontrollably as they interviewed her briefly. It was hard to understand what she was saying because of her heavy accent. Jennings assumed she was saying something about finding the body on the floor with blood all over the place.