Chase Baker and the Golden Condor: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series No. 2) by Vincent Zandri Page A
Authors: Vincent Zandri
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for
existing trails that might provide an accessible ground route into the Amazon
basin. He was convinced that he could find it by engaging in low-level flights
that began at the uncharted side of Machu Picchu and continued all the way into
the basin. He would record these paths on film and then bring the proof with
him back to Texas.”
“I’m sensing a big ‘But’ coming up.”
“But, he encountered a problem. He flew too low and crashed
into the trees. I never saw him again. In fact, no westerner would ever see him
again.”
“Did he perish in the crash?”
He shakes his head.
“Not at all. In fact, he survived and lived long enough to
produce this.” He shoots Rodney a look. In turn, the beefy employee makes his
way toward the plane’s cockpit, but stops short of it at a bulkhead wall.
Removing a small mirror from the wall, he reveals a safe. Typing in a code, the
safe door opens. He reaches in and grabs hold of something, which he carries
back out to us. What he’s carrying is entirely familiar to me and most of the
world.
It’s a Coca-Cola bottle.
Rodney hands me the 1930s-era vintage Coke bottle. Back then
the bottle was not only made of real glass but the words Coca-Cola were
embossed into the thick glass itself. There’s something stuffed inside the
bottle. A large piece of paper that’s been rolled up to fit through the bottle
neck and that’s browned over time.
I lock eyes with Peter Keogh III.
“What’s this?” I laugh. “An honest to goodness message in a
bottle?”
“I’ll do you one better, Chase.”
“How’s that?”
“What you are holding in your hand is a genuine treasure
map.”
“Treasure map,” I say, feeling my pulse speed up. “No shit.”
“No shit, indeed,” Keogh says with a laugh. “You, Mr. Baker,
have entered into the no shit zone.”
10.
“Be careful of that,” Keogh goes on. “It’s very old.”
Rodney hands me a pair of white gloves which I slip on
before sliding the paper out of the bottle. Gently I unroll it and discover a
hand-drawn map.
“I’m allowing you the pleasure of viewing and touching the
real thing,” Keogh explains. “I’m well aware of your love of antiquities,
Chase. But my team has assembled a comprehensive computer-generated map for
your smartphone and/or iPad for your real-time use in the field.”
“iPads, real-time, smartphones…Sounds rather unromantic,
doesn’t it?” I point out while peering up from the old map.
“Perhaps one hundred years from now, it will be a different
story.”
“That is, if the earth lasts another one hundred
years.”
I take a moment to examine Keogh the Second’s crude map.
It’s not very detailed. Fact is, it’s altogether sparse in detail. Depicted on
the upper left-hand side of the paper is Machu Picchu, its very vertical,
exposed granite, needle-like summit clearly recognizable. Taking up the middle
portion of the map is a narrow trail that snakes itself through what is clearly
Keogh II’s translation of thick growth, since the open space surrounding the
trail has been shaded to near black with pencil. Taking up the entire right
edge of the paper is a river. The words “Amazon River” have been penciled
vertically into the center of the river in Keogh’s rather fanciful handwriting.
But what interests me is what’s depicted about
three-quarters of the way across the map, looking from left to right. It’s
another mountain, the tall, needle-shaped summit of which is not altogether
different from Machu Picchu’s. What’s mind-blowing is that there’s a man-made
staircase that corkscrews itself all around the mountain and that leads to a
large opening, which Keogh describes simply as “Cave.”
At the very bottom of the map, in the lower right-hand
corner, is an area that’s been boxed off. A heading appears at the top of the
box. It says CAVE in large capital letters. There’s no doubt in my mind that
this is
existing trails that might provide an accessible ground route into the Amazon
basin. He was convinced that he could find it by engaging in low-level flights
that began at the uncharted side of Machu Picchu and continued all the way into
the basin. He would record these paths on film and then bring the proof with
him back to Texas.”
“I’m sensing a big ‘But’ coming up.”
“But, he encountered a problem. He flew too low and crashed
into the trees. I never saw him again. In fact, no westerner would ever see him
again.”
“Did he perish in the crash?”
He shakes his head.
“Not at all. In fact, he survived and lived long enough to
produce this.” He shoots Rodney a look. In turn, the beefy employee makes his
way toward the plane’s cockpit, but stops short of it at a bulkhead wall.
Removing a small mirror from the wall, he reveals a safe. Typing in a code, the
safe door opens. He reaches in and grabs hold of something, which he carries
back out to us. What he’s carrying is entirely familiar to me and most of the
world.
It’s a Coca-Cola bottle.
Rodney hands me the 1930s-era vintage Coke bottle. Back then
the bottle was not only made of real glass but the words Coca-Cola were
embossed into the thick glass itself. There’s something stuffed inside the
bottle. A large piece of paper that’s been rolled up to fit through the bottle
neck and that’s browned over time.
I lock eyes with Peter Keogh III.
“What’s this?” I laugh. “An honest to goodness message in a
bottle?”
“I’ll do you one better, Chase.”
“How’s that?”
“What you are holding in your hand is a genuine treasure
map.”
“Treasure map,” I say, feeling my pulse speed up. “No shit.”
“No shit, indeed,” Keogh says with a laugh. “You, Mr. Baker,
have entered into the no shit zone.”
10.
“Be careful of that,” Keogh goes on. “It’s very old.”
Rodney hands me a pair of white gloves which I slip on
before sliding the paper out of the bottle. Gently I unroll it and discover a
hand-drawn map.
“I’m allowing you the pleasure of viewing and touching the
real thing,” Keogh explains. “I’m well aware of your love of antiquities,
Chase. But my team has assembled a comprehensive computer-generated map for
your smartphone and/or iPad for your real-time use in the field.”
“iPads, real-time, smartphones…Sounds rather unromantic,
doesn’t it?” I point out while peering up from the old map.
“Perhaps one hundred years from now, it will be a different
story.”
“That is, if the earth lasts another one hundred
years.”
I take a moment to examine Keogh the Second’s crude map.
It’s not very detailed. Fact is, it’s altogether sparse in detail. Depicted on
the upper left-hand side of the paper is Machu Picchu, its very vertical,
exposed granite, needle-like summit clearly recognizable. Taking up the middle
portion of the map is a narrow trail that snakes itself through what is clearly
Keogh II’s translation of thick growth, since the open space surrounding the
trail has been shaded to near black with pencil. Taking up the entire right
edge of the paper is a river. The words “Amazon River” have been penciled
vertically into the center of the river in Keogh’s rather fanciful handwriting.
But what interests me is what’s depicted about
three-quarters of the way across the map, looking from left to right. It’s
another mountain, the tall, needle-shaped summit of which is not altogether
different from Machu Picchu’s. What’s mind-blowing is that there’s a man-made
staircase that corkscrews itself all around the mountain and that leads to a
large opening, which Keogh describes simply as “Cave.”
At the very bottom of the map, in the lower right-hand
corner, is an area that’s been boxed off. A heading appears at the top of the
box. It says CAVE in large capital letters. There’s no doubt in my mind that
this is
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