While something about the man was unsettling, Zane had to admit it made sense to bring along someone with his skill set.
Seeming to sense the need to move on, Brett brought up a picture that Zane recognized immediately.
“And that brings us to Amanda Higgs,” the Oracle said. “In studying to be an archaeologist, she completed quite a bit of coursework in anthropology. Not to mention she seems to have an uncanny knack for solving riddles.” He looked at Zane, a gleam in his eye. “As you know, we’ve already asked her to be an archaeological consultant to Delphi, and I figured this trip might help me understand whether or not we should try to bring her on as a full-time employee.”
“Assuming she’s interested, I think she’d be a wonderful addition,” Zane said.
The Oracle nodded at Brett. “Our chief technology specialist has had a few conversations with her, and he told me that if offered, she’d accept. Long story short, she accepted.”
Zane had always believed that Amanda’s knowledge of history and ancient artifacts made her a natural fit at Delphi. She didn’t have the physical tools or weapons training to work in the field, but those were things she could be taught.
The Oracle cleared his throat as the next photograph appeared. It depicted a dark-skinned man standing on a dock. Zane guessed he was in his late fifties or early sixties, although his weathered skin might make him look older than his years.
“This is Jorge Salvador. Fifty-four years old. Brazilian. He’s going to take you down the river and through the jungle. He’s been on the agency payroll for the better part of two decades. He works on an as-needed basis. When not helping the agency, he operates a cruise boat that runs out of Manaus.”
“His own cruise boat? That’s convenient.”
“I think you’ll like the accommodations,” the Oracle said.
Brett brought up a photograph of the vessel. It was a two-story affair that sat low in the water. The hull was a brilliant white, and the name Izabel was printed along the side near the bow. Zane had visited the Amazon years ago, and the ship seemed typical of those that ferried tourists up and down the river.
“Nice. It looks like the Cadillac of cruise boats. I guess our friend has done well for himself.”
“I hear business is good,” the Oracle replied. “I’m sure he’d do quite well even if he weren’t working for us.”
“Exactly what sort of work did he do for the agency?”
“Much of his file was redacted, but from what I could tell, it seems he spent a lot of time facilitating the movement of CIA operatives in northern Brazil. He’s even done some work in Venezuela.”
Zane took another sip of Bordeaux then asked, “Does the agency really have a significant interest in that part of the world? It seems like the drug trade would be a bit outside their interests.”
“You’re right, they aren’t concerned with drug trafficking. Their concern is all of the bad guys from around the world who are trying to set up shop down there.”
“Terror groups?”
The Oracle nodded. “Yes, the usual suspects. Al Qaeda, ISIL… even Boko Haram has a small presence there.”
Zane looked back at the photograph. “I’m assuming he has a crew?”
“There are two additional crewmen. I don’t have photographs, but they’ve been working with the agency as well. Hathaway tells me that no one knows the backwaters of the Amazon better than these three men.”
“Speaking of our destination, how big is our target area?”
“As Brett alluded to earlier, the DRA has been working with the Brazilians to pinpoint the precise location of the audio transmission. I’m told they’ve narrowed it down to a five-square-mile area. Salvador has been working on it as well. You’ll get more information in your package.”
“How much of a journey are we talking?” Zane asked.
The Oracle looked at Brett. “I’ll let Brett take it from here.”
“I’ve been in touch with Jorge Salvador,” Brett said, “and we’ve worked out a tentative itinerary.” He paused and pulled up a map of Brazil, zooming in on Manaus. Their route was highlighted in red. “We’re going to depart Manaus this Sunday evening. We’ll travel west on the Amazon for two days before turning north on a tributary.”
“At some point the water will be too shallow to take the boat any farther,” the Oracle interjected. “That’s where most of you will get off.”
“Most of us?” Zane asked.
The Oracle nodded. “One of the Brazilians will take the boat back down the river to a small town. Apparently Salvador owns a small dock there. His man will wait there until it’s time to go back and pick you up.”
Brett used his cursor to drag the remainder of the route into view. “As you can see, we’ll traverse the remainder of the route on foot through the jungle. Although it’s impossible to know how long it’s going to take, we should expect a minimum of two days to reach the target area.”
Zane finished the last of his wine and placed it on the table. “If my math is right, that’s four or five days to get there. That’s deep in the jungle.” He looked at the Oracle. “When do we leave?”
“You and Brett will board a charter tomorrow.”
CHAPTER NINE
Colonel Zheng Lee stood and looked out the glass window of his office. Night was falling over Beijing, and a seemingly endless river of red taillights flowed down the boulevard below him. The workday was mercifully coming to a close.
He glanced at his watch. In five minutes, his driver would pull up to the front of the building. After picking up his wife at their residence, they would be driven to the airport to catch an evening flight to Chengdu. Zheng smiled. This was the first vacation he’d had in almost a year. By this time tomorrow he’d be away from the smog and dirt of Beijing. Not to mention he’d be able to shut his wife up once and for all. She’d been nagging him for months about taking a trip, giving him a litany of other military wives who seemed to travel almost constantly.
Their destination was a mountain villa with his wife’s sister and her husband. The women would spend their days in Chengdu shopping. For his part, Zheng planned on taking hikes and spending lots of time on the porch with bottles of Tsingtao.
Zheng heard a buzzing behind him. Turning, he saw his mobile phone sitting on his desk, a light blinking to indicate he had a text.
Probably the driver telling me he’s early.
He grabbed the phone and stared at the screen.
It was General Kong’s secretary. Zheng was to report to the general immediately.
He frowned, unsure what to think. He didn’t report directly to Kong. The general was responsible for China’s Special Forces. So why was Zheng being asked to meet with him? Something didn’t make sense. Whatever the reason, he knew it couldn’t be good.
Zheng cursed under his breath. He’d almost made it out of this wretched place.
He glanced at his watch again. His car would be arriving any minute. He sent the driver a quick text indicating he’d been held up but would text him again when he was on his way down.
After grabbing his coat and turning out the lights, Zheng proceeded down a lengthy corridor to a row of elevators. When the car arrived, he stepped in and pressed 40, the floor of the high command.
As the car began to move, Zheng felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It was bad enough to have to go to the fortieth floor. It was even worse to go there for a meeting with Kong. The man was known for his prickly personality and volatile temper.