ENCOUNTER, Hep Aldridge [cheapest way to read ebooks TXT] 📗

buy mules or llamas from Senor Mata. Since we were sure this would be more than just a few days’ trip, we needed to pack provisions and supplies accordingly. More than we could carry, so four-legged help was going to be a necessity. On our last trip to Tamara’s village, Joe had tagged waypoints and plotted our route on our master GPS unit, so we wouldn’t need a guide to find our way back. According to what the priest had said, the elders had said their old village was a two-day walk from Tamara’s village, and we knew from the first journal that the city of the gods was about a day’s hike. So, that meant we had at least a five- or six-day hike to the site of the old village, and then we had to find the city, another day’s climb if one knew the way, which we did not.

A week to two weeks’ hike in, find the city and same time hiking out. That meant a full month in the mountains. Not going to be easy, I thought. And who knew what we might encounter on the trip besides the usual hazards of hiking through hostile terrain. We all pondered this information in silence as reality sank in.

“Well, we’ve come this far,” Doc said. “We knew it wasn’t going to be easy, so time to suck it up, put on our game faces, and do it.”

“Agreed,” I said, “Once more into the breech, dear friends…”

Dimitri interrupted me and said, “Enough with the breech crap; we just need to make sure we have enough ammo and food. The rest will take care of itself.” After a few seconds, we all laughed and agreed. Leave it to Dimitri, ammo first, food second! A guy’s gotta keep his priorities in line.

“I say, let’s call it a night. We have a full day tomorrow, and I want everybody to be frosty.”

O’Reilly agreed, as did the others. We paid our tab and headed back to the hotel.

Breakfast was at 8:00 a.m.; we went over details, and the team took the Beast and headed for the Parque Calderon around 9:30. Doc and I would be taking a taxi, so we kicked back and had another cup of coffee. At 10:15, we went out front, hailed a cab, and headed to the meeting. The Parque was about 20 to 30 minutes from our hotel, and we made the ride in silence.

We arrived to find a beehive of activity. There were plenty of visitors enjoying the park on this Sunday morning or just passing through it on their way to other destinations. We walked into the park grounds slowly, admiring the sights and sounds as any tourist might. The spires of the Catedral de la Immaculada provided an impressive backdrop to the park’s foliage. We spotted the designated bench; a woman and two small children occupied it. We walked over and stood as if admiring the surroundings while trying to find our team in the crowd. We had Comms, so after a minute, I said, “Guys?”

Dimitri’s voice came back, “We’ve got you covered.”

I looked at Doc, nodded, and sat down on the bench. He sat next to me, and we waited. The woman with the kids was fussing, trying to get them under control as they ran around laughing and playing. I looked at my watch; it was 10:55. I spotted a slight, elderly man approaching from the opposite side of the park. He was nervously looking around, and I heard O’Reilly say, “I think our man is approaching you from your three o’clock.”

“Copy,” I said quietly. The man approached the bench, looked at us, and kept walking as if out for a stroll through the park.

“Well, maybe not,” I said over the Comms.

“Nope, that’s him,” O’Reilly answered, “just wait.”

Doc and I started a conversation about the park and the church, continuing to scan the area casually. In a few minutes, the lady corralled her children, got up, and walked away, laughing and chatting with them as she went. In a few more minutes, I heard O’Reilly say, “Coming at you from your 12 o’clock.” I didn’t turn to look, just sat talking to Doc and taking in the sights. Moments later, our elderly gentleman came up to the bench and sat down. Our eyes met for a brief second. I guessed him to be in his 70s, gray hair, a small beard to match, and gold-framed glasses over eyes that shone bright, decrying their obvious age. He was dressed in a nondescript brown jacket and pants. Nothing about him would make you look twice, just another old man walking through the park. I casually looked his way again, as he did mine; he nodded and said, “Dr. Burnett.”

Turning back to the view, I said just loud enough for him to hear, “Yes, Mr. Tagliano, what can I do for you?”

He slid closer, so we could more easily talk without being overheard. “No, Signore, I believe it is what I can do for you.”

I paused and, without looking at him, said, “And what might that be?”

“A warning, Signore, possibly a lifesaving warning.”

Still without looking, “I’m listening.”

“You have gotten yourself into something that may be beyond your comprehension, and I’m afraid it could prove deadly for you and your friends.”

Now, I turned to look at him and said, “Don’t underestimate my level of comprehension or the tenacity of my friends… But do continue with your warning.”

He looked rather shocked at my response but continued, “Be that as it may, you are in danger. Men are looking for you who mean to harm you and your friends.”

I decided to play along and said, “And why would that be?”

“Because your quest for the library has put forces into motion that have lain dormant for many years—powerful forces that will not be stopped.”

I paused and said, “So, who are you, Mr. Tagilano, and how do you know these things?”

“I am a Prefect, Signore, a researcher and archivist at the