“Thanks, Kyra. How’s it going?”
“My agent got me some more auditions. I really feel like this is my year, you know?”
Drake ran his hand through his hair and tried not to gape at her flawless, tanned skin and blazing sky blue eyes. “Yeah, it could be. I hope so. It’s been a pretty good one for me so far.”
She eyed him like a cat eyeing a baby chick, her gaze lingering on his chest and abs. “Understatement of the year.”
“I’m sure you’ll get something that makes you famous, Kyra. It’s only a matter of time.” Which it was. She could read lines with all the conviction of a rock with a painted face, but with her dad’s connections, she’d eventually be a star, he was sure.
“Easy for you to say. You already won that lottery. You should write a book or something. Ooh, or maybe a reality show! Right here, on the beach!”
“I’m afraid my life isn’t all that exciting, Kyra.”
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s all BS. They just make stuff up and you play along. Hey — I could be in it! Playing the struggling actress! It would be awesome. Let me make a couple of calls…”
“Not on my account. I moved here to get away from all that. But thanks anyway.”
She gave him an appraising look. “See? That’s why you’re one in a million. Anyone else would be totally sucking up to have their own show. You? You couldn’t care less.”
“I probably just need more medication,” Drake joked, offering her a grin. She feigned a pout and then beamed at him.
“You should come over later and have a margarita or something,” she said, her voice all innocence but her expression making clear that she had definite ideas about what the something might entail.
“Cool. Thanks. I might take you up on that,” Drake said, and then his attention was drawn to his house, which he habitually left unlocked — he had nothing worth stealing, and half his neighbors did the same, he knew — just another reminder of how different Malibu was from the real world over the hill. He spotted two men in suits standing inside his open glass terrace doors, watching him, hands folded, stone-faced. “What the hell—”
The tallest of the pair stepped forward. “Mr. Ramsey, sorry for the intrusion, but we knocked and it was open. Probably not a good idea to leave it unlocked,” he said, his voice as welcoming as fingers on a blackboard. “Please, come in. We need a moment of your time.”
“And you are…?”
“Someone you’d do well to speak with,” the second man said, glancing over at Kyra before lowering his voice. “We’re from Washington.”
“Drake? Is everything okay?” Kyra asked, turning toward his house as he mounted the stairs to the deck.
Drake regarded the pair, who stepped further into the gloomy interior so they couldn’t be seen by her, and nodded. “Yeah. But if I’m not back in ten minutes, call the cops.”
Chapter 4
“I can assure you that won’t be necessary, Mr. Ramsey,” the first man said as Drake leaned his surfboard against the rickety wood railing. “I’m Collins. This is Ross.”
Drake squared his shoulders and faced them. “What do you want? And what gives you the right to barge into my home?”
“You and my boss had a discussion a few months back. Perhaps you recall it?” Collins said, ignoring Drake’s indignant question.
Drake nodded, his heart sinking. He remembered as though it were yesterday. “Sure. Like a bad smell.”
“I’ll cut to the chase. We have a situation we could use your help with. Step inside and we can talk about it.”
“I kind of like being out here, if you don’t mind,” Drake said.
“Ramsey, do us all a favor and get off the high horse, will you?” Ross growled. “Come in, have a soda or whatever, and hear us out. Then we’ll leave. No strings attached.”
Drake’s right eyebrow rose. “No strings?”
“You heard right,” Collins confirmed.
Drake sighed, pulled off his spring suit, and draped it on the railing. “Make it fast. I need to hose all this gear off.”
Drake entered the living room wearing only board shorts. He looked at the sofa and shrugged, and then sat down, ignoring the soaking he was giving the white fabric. Collins walked over and sat in the easy chair. Ross remained standing by the dining room table.
Collins cleared his throat. “We could use your help. We have a delicate situation, and we need someone with your pedigree.”
“My… pedigree?”
“Yes. You’re a famous treasure hunter. You have access to places our agents wouldn’t.”
“Your agents,” Drake repeated flatly.
Collins nodded. “Two days ago, a private plane went down somewhere around the border of Laos and Myanmar. Thai radar had a fix on it until it disappeared. There was a storm in the area, and we’re afraid the worst has happened.”
“I’m sorry,” Drake said, his expression puzzled. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“The plane was carrying a woman named Christine Whitfield. She’s the daughter of Senator Arthur Whitfield. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
Drake shook his head. “I don’t pay much attention to politics.”
“He’s a veteran lawmaker who some say has as much clout as the president,” Ross said.
Collins sighed. “The senator is frantic over his daughter going missing, Drake. He’s pulled strings. A lot of them. One of them was to the director, who is also a friend. The director promised to help. Which is where you come in.”
“I’m still not getting it.”
“We need you to mount an expedition to the area immediately. We’ll get permission from the appropriate parties, but we need someone visible, someone known, to look for her. They’d never approve it otherwise.”
“Why not? I thought you guys ran the world.”
Collins smiled for the first time, and the effect was chilling. “I’m afraid YouTube overstates our reach. We may be able to hide aliens and plot a new world order, but we can’t get the Laotian government to allow us to poke around their territory. They’re still a little sensitive about certain regrettable incidents during the Vietnamese war.”
“And forget about Myanmar. They hate us more than Iran and North Korea’s love child,” Ross added.
“But they’ll let me tromp around in their jungle? Why, exactly?”
“Crap, kid, you’re famous. And very high profile right now. Of course they’d never let you go looking for a plane… which is why you won’t be.”
“What will I be looking for? Assuming I decide I’m interested?” Drake asked, curious.
“Have you ever heard of the Emerald Buddha of the Khmer Empire?” Collins asked, his gray eyes drilling into Drake’s.
Drake shook his head. “No.”
“You can Google it. When the Thais overran what’s now Cambodia, legend says that the Khmer king hid the country’s most precious treasure in a distant land. We have reason to believe that’s near the Laotian and Myanmar border, which is coincidentally where the plane was last observed.”
“Lost Khmer treasure? Who exactly were the Khmer? I’ve only heard of the Khmer Rouge.”
“That name was taken from their ancestors. The Khmer people were at one point the most powerful empire in the region. They built extraordinary temples, were renowned for their advanced civilization, and were as close to a superpower as you could get in the Middle Ages. Angkor Wat is the most famous of their temple complexes. They ruled for centuries before Thailand ate their lunch in the fifteenth century.”
Drake’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know where the treasure is?”
“Well, truthfully, we don’t. I mean, not exactly. But we have reason to believe we have a fix on the rough area.”
“Right. But the question is how?”
“If you sign up for this, we’ll give you a classified briefing. Among the items you’ll be privy to is an interrogation with a guerilla commander who worked the region during the Vietnam conflict. He had valuable information that could lead a skilled adventurer like yourself to the hidden temple where the treasure’s stashed.”