Bruno sniffed, eyes as wide as Frisbees and glazed over with fear. “Flesh eaters,” he all but whispered. “They eat the flesh of the living.”
Drake stared, mouth open but every cognitive process dammed. Alicia pulled her boot away as if Bruno was suddenly diseased.
Hayden pinched the bridge of her nose. “What did you say?”
“You hear me, lady. You hear me well. A cult of flesh eaters. That is what lives in that house now. And you wish to go there.” He spat to the side.
“And Dantanion is what?” Drake found his voice. “The Cannibal King?”
Bruno nodded, not seeing the sarcasm only wallowing in fear. His whisper was barely audible. “That, yes. Exactly that. Not a man. A demon. A flesh eater and a chief. In Cusco they warn their children to go early to sleep lest Dantanion the Mountain Demon comes to claim them.”
Alicia audibly gulped. “And the spiders?”
Bruno frowned, and then his voice dropped several octaves lower. “What spiders?”
“Never mind,” Hayden said quickly, much to Drake’s relief. No matter what you believed, no matter the realities you saw, there were always certain scenarios and creatures and beliefs — so powerfully felt by others — that challenged all you knew.
“You say members of this cult, of Dantanion’s house, come to town?” Somehow Hayden was maintaining her focus. Drake saw again why she ran the team. “On errands. It seems to me that he has to get these people from somewhere. And… replenish… them. Now, Bruno, you provide transport for the Cusco Militia. We know for a fact that the cops are in Dantanion’s pocket. What’s the story?”
Bruno shrugged slowly. “I do not know whole story. Just because I am militia, doesn’t mean I know everything. But militia…” He cringed a little, clearly worried about how much to reveal.
“Tell us,” Hayden said. “Or I’ll feed you to fucking Dantanion myself.”
“They’re into everything. Drugs. Weapons. Prostitution.” He paused. “Human trafficking.”
Drake read between the lines, more on focus now that creepy story corner had passed. “So Dantanion sends out an order? Kinda like we would order a takeaway? And the militia delivers.”
Bruno nodded.
Hayden looked interested. “How often?”
“Nothing is regular. No plan.” Bruno was starting to look even more fearful as he sensed the questioning was coming to an end. Alicia swapped boots, adding to the anxiety.
Drake wasn’t sure what Hayden was thinking, but he laid it out for the team. “So Dantanion pays off the cops, who leave him alone. The militia provide people that maybe get brainwashed into this cult. That about it?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“And Inca relics?” Drake thought it might be worth mentioning again. “Nobody trying to slip a sword or a shield through?”
“We haven’t touched the relics in years,” Bruno said. “Tourists are everywhere. Government comes down hard if one gets… caught up. Most sites are guarded now. It’s just too much trouble.”
“Not even a vase?” Alicia pushed. “Or one of those phallic symbols?”
“Steady on, love,” Drake said. “I’m all the phallic symbol you should need.”
“Well, you’re not bad. But sometimes a girl just fancies a change, you know?”
“Nothing.” Bruno looked between them as if sensing madness. “The militia leave the treasure hunting to the crazies.”
That made Drake smile. “The crazies are right here, mate, on your doorstep.”
“Even closer than that.” Alicia shifted her boot. “We’re right on your bollocks.”
Hayden leaned about as close to Bruno as she could get. “Don’t get comfy, militia man,” she said harshly. “We have to get along now, but we know you. What you do. Where you’ve been. You belong to us now, and we will be back. I have a feeling you’re gonna be useful.”
“I will try,” Bruno said without much enthusiasm.
“You’ll be there when we call,” Hayden said. “Unless you want me to drop you off, trussed and parboiled, on this whacko’s doorstep.”
“She will do it too,” Mai said.
“Damn fucking right I will.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The man in the tight-fitting Gucci vest and jogging bottoms ignored his desk as he entered his office. He already knew what would be waiting there; knew from a hundred other days when he’d gone in. Every time he left the office the sous chef rotated the delicacies.
Dantanion crossed over to the window and the view. It filled him anew; it stimulated him, gave life to fresh plans and dreams. Mountainside filled his vision, from the valley below to the heights above. He placed two fingers against the glass as if he could touch its very essence. But the mountains didn’t speak to him — the community did.
People working far below. People working next door; in the offices and kitchens. In the bedrooms. In the future, he hoped not to have to procure new people from the filthy hovel of Cusco — he hoped to be self-sufficient.
A plan for the decades, then. And new ways to stop the mass becoming bored. The village raids were unnecessary, but useful for now. It kept the peace; kept the status quo. Gave the masses a goal to work toward and a way to unwind. Dantanion thought about the latest development — a group of armed men in Kimbiri. Was it random or had the villagers hired help? Were his people in Cusco involved? Who were the soldiers?
Dantanion took time to think it all through. Thinking made him hungry. He glanced over at the wall clock — black rim and golden filigree, the hands stood at 4 p.m. It would be a waste of a good appetite to start snacking now. Dinner was in an hour.
The burner cell in his pocket started to ring. Dantanion narrowed his eyes, sensing bad news and feeling the weight of a bad omen settle across the house, weighing it down, pushing at the deep foundations. With trepidation he answered.
“Hello?”
“Tremayne is dead,” a voice said. “The last relic is lost.”
Dantanion was a man of deep composure and spoke softly. “How did this happen?”
“We are not sure. Hijackers, we think. They have the relic but have disappeared. Now, others are asking questions.”
Dantanion stared into space. “What kind of questions?”
“They seek the identity of the seller. These relics — they are lava hot right now. Untouchable. Too many, too soon. And the people that ask — they are previous middlemen.”
Dantanion hadn’t seen that coming. He wondered if they could discover his identity. They were ruthless criminals, these middlemen, as capable as any agency. And he only dealt with the best.
“Come home. Your job was to watch Tremayne, which is clearly now complete. Come home and let us feast to your health.”
A hesitation. “You don’t want me to try tracking the hijackers?”
“I assumed you had tried that already.”
“Well, yes. A big, skillful man and an athletic woman. They finished Tremayne and vanished. They must be talented to thwart our efforts.”
Dantanion was briefly reminded of the supposed soldiers now residing in Kimbiri, but decided it was all too coincidental. The incidents couldn’t be connected. Besides, he had a man in Kimbiri already collecting information.
“Come home,” he said, ended the call, and destroyed the burner.
The relics were essential to their existence here, and thus worth any kind of risk. This was all fine when the flags fluttered on your side; but when the wind fell and the material started to catch around the flagpole, then you were looking at a tough unraveling operation. Where to go next? The market for these incredible relics was intensely small, but supremely lucrative. Dantanion knew there were only a handful of people across the globe he could use.