Angel of Death - Debt Collector 5 (A Jack Winchester Thriller) Read online

  “Yes?”

  “Where does this lead?”

  He screwed up his face as if he was drunk.

  “Is this a restaurant?”

  He then mentioned the name of the café and told her if she wanted to get inside she had to go around the front like the rest. He slammed the door and her eyebrows shot up. It didn’t take her long to get around to the other side. When she entered she didn’t immediately take a seat. She glanced around at the tables, more specifically the ones by the window. She recalled where she was earlier that morning. There were two people seated at a table eating. She stood by them and glanced out the window. From where she was she had a good shot of her position that morning.

  He had seen her. She snorted. That little bastard had seen her. No wonder he went out the back door. She went over to the counter. A Peruvian man with spiky hair was just in the middle of finishing up with a customer, then he came over and asked what she wanted. She showed him a picture of Jack and asked if he remembered serving him. He nodded affirmatively and then told her that he was with a young girl.

  “A girl? Who?”

  “I don’t know her. She’s usually selling necklaces on the street outside every day.”

  Isabel’s interest was piqued. Why would Winchester have been in contact with a young girl?

  “Can you describe her?” she moved her hand as if to try and indicate height. “Did she have black hair? Blond?”

  The man gave to the best of his recollection a rough description of what she looked like. He said that she was wearing a necklace with a green jewel on the front. Isabel thanked the man and walked back outside into the sunshine. She couldn’t help feel frustrated. Every time she got close he would slip away, then she would get a few more breadcrumbs. She scanned the immediate area looking for the girl but none resembled the one from the description. There were lots of Peruvian girls but none wearing the clothing or necklace he’d mentioned.

  Isabel returned to her hotel and collapsed on the bed. She was beginning to wonder if this man was worth it. She could return to Florida, pick up where she left off and within six months be back in the field working some other case. She didn’t have to find this guy. It wasn’t like she would get a bonus or a promotion and she sure as heck didn’t want a promotion. It would have meant working closer with Thorpe and he was the last guy she wanted to be rubbing shoulders with.

  She snatched a bottle of water from her fridge, opened the small safe that they gave to all customers in the hotels and retrieved her laptop. Within five minutes she was surfing online and looking up information about the area. If she was going to press on and try to pursue him she would need a guide, someone who could make sure she returned safely.

  Going into the jungle. Are you insane? she thought as she sipped on ice-cold water and brought up the contact details of a tour guide company.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The murky green and brown river barely made a sound as the boat traveled downstream. All around it sounded like a chorus of a thousand tree frogs and snakes hissing at once. A lush green paradise hung over the banks. For as far as the eye could see was vast green undergrowth. Jose controlled the outboard motor at the back. He had told Jack to lay back and relax as it would be a long trip but there was no way he could feel at ease in this place. Every few seconds he would check the boat for snakes, spiders and whatever else was flying around his head. Some of the creatures he saw moving along the banks he couldn’t even recognize. He didn’t dare dip his hand into the water. Behind him Jose whistled away as if it was just a walk in the park. And for him it must have been that way. Jack had asked him if he had ever been to the concrete jungle of New York but Jose said he had grown up in these parts. He’d never had a reason to travel.

  He learned a lot about the strange jungle man in those hours going downriver. They saw a few other boats pass by. Tourists took photos and a few waved as if being there was all fun and games. He couldn’t have imagined wanting to come here unless there was a huge amount of money involved. What others saw as paradise, to him was a sweltering hell.

  Jack had been carrying his jacket. Below that all he had on was a white V-neck T-shirt, and a pair of jeans. Everything about the way he dressed screamed idiotic. Several times Jose reminded him that he could have bought a pair of shorts back in Puerto Maldonado. He would just nod and smile, before Jose started laughing and whistling again.

  “Why do you come here?” Jose asked keeping one hand on the outboard extension handle. Jack swatted at another mosquito.

  “I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”

  “You know, in over twenty years of being a guide, there has only ever been one person I have seen wear the kind of clothes you have on.”

  “Oh who?”

  “You.” He then burst out laughing. For someone who had very little, the man certainly was happy with life. He spoke about growing up with a poor family but working his way through college to learn how to speak English. His mother had told him that if he could master the language there would be very little that he would need. He had taken a low-paid job as a translator for a local travel firm in Lima and for four years did tours in the city. Eventually when he had enough of that he returned to Cusco, his home, and took on a job doing tours as well as translating.

  “It’s good, you know. I get to see my homeland through the eyes of others. There is nothing more satisfying than to hear and see a stranger’s response. They have never seen anything like it. I feel proud to be from Peru,” Jose said.

  “What about the street kids?”

  “What about them?”

  “Doesn’t your government have some programs in place to help them?”

  “Of course. But the problem is too rampant and the economy is bad. There is so much poverty down here that kids are forced to work at a young age to feed themselves. I was fortunate to have a good mother who held down a job. Others, friends of mine, had to run away from homes because they were being abused by fathers who drank too much alcohol. So they slept on the sidewalks, under bridges or in any building they could get inside. Most of these kids turn to drugs or are forced into prostitution. I had a friend who sniffed glue to forget that he was cold and hungry. I tried to warn him and find help, but the next day I found him dead. It is a terrible thing but that is our world. What about yours?”

  Jack felt heaviness in his chest at the thought of it all. So many people, so little being done. How could anyone help them all? Sure, there were organizations that tried to help but it was a vicious cycle that would continue unless the government sought to bring about change. And yet how could that be done when it was corrupt and focused on doing nothing more than helping itself?

  “So?” Jose asked.

  In comparison to what these kids suffered, he lived like a king. It made his problems seem meaningless.

  “We have poverty but there are those who help.”

  “It must be nice,” Jose said pulling out a pipe from his pocket. He balanced it on one knee and stuffed it with tobacco, and then added a few green leaves. He placed it between his lips and lit it while continuing to guide the boat. It gave off a pungent aroma that wasn’t familiar to him.

  Jack gazed at the vast area around. “This place is huge.”

  “Over two hundred and seventy-four thousand hectares of conservation.”

  Jack had to rely on the fact that there were only a few places that anyone traveling by river could have built a healing center. He asked Jose to take him to one of the most notable ones in the hope that they might know about others operating in the area. He chose to stop on the right side of the river at a place called Refugio Amazonas. Jose gave him some spiel about it having been there ever since 1989. They were the leading company in the area for expeditions into the Amazon jungle as well as providing a place to stay. They owned three lodges located in different areas. Refugio Amazonas was located in a 200-hectare private reserve of the Tambopata National Reserve. There was Posada Amazonas further down which was a 30-be
droom rainforest lodge and another called Amazon Villa which offered guests a private bungalow. Jose said that if anyone would know about any other lodges in the area, or development that had occurred in the past twenty years, Eduardo would know.

  When Jose pulled up alongside the muddy bank, there wasn’t a dock so to speak. They hopped out of the boat and Jack helped him to haul the canoe-sized raft onto the shore. A larger tourist boat nearby was tied to a post in the ground. A plank leaned up against the side.

  The stretch of wet earth led up to a gorgeous, modern-looking tiki lodge. Jack followed Jose past a carved sign that said Refugio Amazonas. Inside there were a number of tourists seated at some plush red double seats while others lay back in green hammocks reading. It had a very open concept, so that no matter where you were, you could see the jungle around. There was no glass, only wood, and large posts holding up the exquisite ceiling.

  They had arrived at a time when they were serving up food. A waft of fresh bread lingered in the air. A long table extended from one end of the room to the other. Jose waved to a Peruvian man and they threaded their way through the crowded room where people were carrying plates of food. Jack felt his stomach grumble as he took in the sight and aroma. He could hear the sound of American, German and English accents. People traveled from all over the world to experience the Amazon.

  The man Jose had waved to was dressed in light brown shorts and sandals. He rose from the table where he was eating with ten other people and gave Jose a hug. They chatted in Spanish for a while, and then Jose pointed to Jack. He nodded and took his seat.

  “He said he will speak with you after they have eaten. For now, he invites us to help ourselves.”

  Over the next twenty minutes they followed the line of people and lined up for food. Jose told him that the lodge had over thirty-two bedrooms. It was four hours from the airport. Most visited to experience hiking, swimming, boat trips and see wildlife. They had other lodges for those who wanted to go further downriver and really immerse themselves in the jungle itself.

  After eating, the crowd thinned out and the sun began to wane behind the trees. Candles were lit and outside flames from fire torches swayed in the light breeze.

  Eduardo led them both into a small office area and closed the door behind. Everything was made from the jungle itself. As a golden sun burned through the trees and darkness smothered out what little remained of the day, Jose brought Eduardo up to speed on why they were venturing into the jungle. He cast a glance at Jack and studied him as if to see if he was going to be trouble.

  Up until that point he didn’t know he spoke English.

  “Jose says you are seeking an American woman who came here?”

  “Not here, out there somewhere. Have you heard of anyone building a healing center?”

  “Of course, there are others that exist but we stay busy with the day-to-day operations around here. We don’t have time to concern ourselves with what our competitors are doing.”

  “But have you heard or seen anyone new in these parts over the past year?”

  His eyes darted between Jose and Jack before he nodded slowly.

  “Some come here to have a spiritual experience. Are you a spiritual man, Mr. Winchester?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “Look, I’m here to find a woman. That’s all.”

  He smiled and reached into his drawer. He retrieved a small wooden pipe much like the one Jose had used. He filled it and lit the contents.

  “We are all on a journey, Mr. Winchester. Whether we are conscious of it or not.”

  “So I’m guessing you don’t know?”

  “I didn’t say that. There has been rumors of a group east of here but it’s at least a day’s hike and unless you are familiar with the jungle, I don’t imagine you will find it.”

  “Have you been there?” Jack asked.

  He cleared his throat and rested the pipe on a wooden ashtray. Behind him was a shelving unit full of strange statues and worn leather books.

  “I provide a service to tourists. I have no need, neither do I have a desire to stick my nose into anyone else’s business. As long as they don’t interfere with Refugio Amazonas or destroy the jungle in any way, what they do is up to them. Like I said before, there are many here on a journey. Some come for a day or two, others months until they find what they want.”

  “Can you take me to this place?”

  “I can give Jose the details.”

  Jack got up to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Eduardo said.

  “We are done here.”

  “I don’t mean that. Where are you going?”

  Jack frowned wondering what the hell he was going on about.

  “Forgive me for saying, but you strike me as a man that seems a little lost.”

  Jack snorted. What was it with people down here?

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Then perhaps the jungle will give you clarity.”

  Jack nodded and exited the room. He was done with listening to mumbo jumbo. All he wanted to do was have a drink and put his head down for the evening. If it was going to be a long hike he wanted to get started in the morning. He ventured back outside while Jose continued speaking with Eduardo. He took a seat on a step and thought about Mia. He lit a cigarette and cast a glance back into the office. Eduardo was looking at him while he continued speaking with Jose. There was something very off to this place. He had a sense that they weren’t looking at him but looking through him, to something hidden below the skin. To something that couldn’t be grasped or verbalized. Maybe that was what spirituality was, something deeper than identity or goals. Jack wasn’t a spiritual man. Spirituality had no place in the world that he had grown up in. While the religious washed their hands in holy water in some act of cleansing themselves, Jack had done so in the blood of others. Even now, years on he could still smell iron in his nostrils. It never went away. It didn’t matter how many showers he took, how much he busied himself with life, the blood of those he had killed clung to his hands like a thin layer of dust on a windy day.

  When Jose eventually came out, he led Jack into one of the private suites he would be sleeping in. At a glance, compared to the shabby motel he stayed in, this was a paradise. There was a clear canopy of mosquito netting that hung over the bed. While it kept the bugs out, it couldn’t prevent anything else from making its way inside. The open concept would have easily allowed a venomous snake or spider to slither and crawl its way in. And people did this for adventure?

  The floors were made from varnished tropical hardwood and the walls bamboo. Each room was around 85-square-foot in size with an open veranda that looked out into the wild tropical jungle.

  Jose took the bed beside him. In between was a reading table.

  “If you wish to charge your phone, there is electricity until 10 p.m.”

  For a place that was in the middle of nowhere it catered nicely to the whims and needs of sophisticated city dwellers. Off to the side was a large, beautiful bathroom with a shower, tempered glass and hot water. A ceiling fan spun above them sending a nice burst of cool air around the room. The humid jungle air stuck to Jack’s skin like glue.

  Jose went over to a small minibar and pulled out a bottle of vodka. He tossed it at Jack and he caught it.

  “Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.”

  That evening as he went to sleep listening to the sound of the forest, he thought about the danger that lay ahead. Not just from animals and insects full of venom or even the group he was about to encounter, but from what he was liable to do if he was pushed into a corner.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  That evening as everyone gathered around Castillo down by the water, Danielle saw April disappear into the lodge where they stored all the food. She was part of the cleanup crew so nothing was seen as out of the ordinary. Now had it been her, they would have watched like a hawk.

  Everyone took their usual position around the fire. Some
sat cross-legged on the earth, others squatted on logs gazing into the flames as Castillo paced around. It was always the same every night. He wouldn’t immediately begin speaking, he would take his time. There had been some nights they would sit for two hours without him saying anything only to have him utter a few words and then call it a night. No one ever knew if he was going to rattle on for hours or say nothing. Either way, everyone knew they would be there long into the night. To Danielle it was repetitive. There was nothing new he was saying. It was all twisted from previous words spoken by others over the years. Of course he made it seem as if he was providing fresh revelation but she didn’t buy it.

  She glanced over her shoulder into the darkness. April had told her that she would make sure it looked like an animal had made its way into the food area and destroyed some of the food. She believed that would force Castillo to have to go into the city again. Danielle only hoped it worked. She had a strong feeling that he would just make them go without food. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done that before. Fasting was common. They had gone days without eating as part of an overall process of reaching enlightenment. He said it was a way to purge the body and allow the Sage to speak without interference. Those who had fasted before didn’t complain but those who weren’t used to it struggled, some got headaches and felt light-headed, others fainted. Any logical person would have told them to quit and given them something to eat — not Castillo. He said it was just weakness. That if they wanted to reach a greater state of enlightenment they needed to push beyond their comfort zones.

  Early mornings.

  Long meetings.

  Days without food.

  Minimal clothes.

  Extensive meditation.

  Plenty of holy medicine.

  This was his idea of attaining some enlightened state. Those who questioned him were told to seek the wisdom of the Sage. Those who did always awoke from the psychedelic state unsure of what was reality. It was because of this that few challenged him.