Jack set his cup down. “I had no idea your father was working for the government. That’s almost impossible for me to believe. I wonder what they wanted, and why he never said anything…” Jack squinted at Drake suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this?”
“It was his last entry in the journal.” He stopped, unsure of how to continue. “And I’m telling you because I wanted your take on it…and because I’m thinking that having the journal may present an opportunity.”
“An opportunity?” Jack repeated. “What kind of opportunity?”
“I know this will sound crazy, but a chance to fulfill my father’s vision. To succeed where he failed.”
Jack frowned and shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. Your father was killed chasing that phantom. I’d say that’s enough Ramseys sacrificed on the Inca altar.”
“I agree. Which is why I’m not sure what to do. Part of me is looking at my life up until now, and realizing it’s a big fat zero. I live in a society I don’t particularly like, doing a job I hate, and I have no…nothing to work toward. I thought I wanted to be an investigative reporter, but now I’m beginning to think that’s just another side of the same coin my father was living. He was researching where the greatest treasure of all time was hidden, and I chose a career researching big stories. The point is, it’s all research. But until I read the journal and talked to you, I didn’t know why I’m so drawn to it. Maybe it’s genetic. Something in the Ramsey blood. I don’t know.”
“Son, I’m going to tell you straight. Paititi has killed more men than Everest. It’s not something you just sort of try to do because you’re bored. That jungle takes no prisoners. It’s filled with every variety of toxic threat on the planet and then some. Snakes, spiders the size of your fist, alligators, jaguars, Indians who would just as soon cut your throat as spit, drug traffickers, smugglers, thieves…it’s the most dangerous place on earth. Nobody in their right mind would go in there. Nobody.”
“Maybe I’m not in my right mind. Maybe my father wasn’t, either. But at least he felt alive. I don’t. I feel like I’m sleepwalking through the only life I get, like I’m playing a part where they got the casting wrong. I couldn’t have put my finger on it before, but it’s taking shape now.”
“Your father’s dead because of that damned treasure, boy.”
“No, he’s dead because he was murdered by Russians. You said it yourself. I think we’ve got it wrong. Blaming his objective for something that happened along the way.”
Jack snorted derisively. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because if I decide to go after Paititi, I’m going to need help.”
Jack stood. “You’re gonna need more than help. You’re gonna need a thorough psych workup, because you’ve got a screw loose. I knew I should’ve shot you when I saw you.”
Drake met his gaze without flinching. “Maybe you should have. But it’s a little late now.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
“Look, I’m not saying I want to go charging into the jungle. I’m saying that I’m thinking about it. I’ve got some money and a lot of time. That seems like a good start.”
“You’ve got exactly none of the survival skills you’d need to last even a week.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re underestimating me. I’m a quick learner.” Drake rose and collected the photo and the knife. “I just thought I’d see how you reacted. You obviously think it’s a bad idea.”
“Where’s the journal?” Jack asked.
“In a safe place.”
“Maybe not safe enough.” Jack took a slow sip of his coffee and studied some spots on the carpet by his feet, obviously weighing what to say. “I was on the phone this morning. Talking to my buddies in the intelligence community. You weren’t the only one doing a lot of thinking last night. I started doing some of my own, and at about one a.m., I got on my computer and looked up the details of Patricia’s death. That crash…it looks sketchy. They estimate she had to be going a hundred when she sailed off the road. A hundred. The woman owned a flower shop and drove a frigging Buick. That’s not someone who joyrides at triple digits at night.”
“What are you saying?”
“That I smelled a rat. I got a bad feeling in my stomach, so early this morning I called one of my buds. The one who works with an alphabet agency agreed to check on something for me.”
“What?”
“Whether those two Russians are still alive.”
“And?”
“I’m waiting for a call back.”
“That’s it? You’re waiting for a call?”
“What is it with you? Yes. That’s it. But if they’re alive, and anywhere but in the middle of Siberia, you’ve got a real problem. Or maybe I should say, we do. You were able to track me down in only a couple of days, so that means I could have a problem, too.”
“You can’t possibly think—”
“I don’t jump to conclusions. I plan. I prepare. But I’ll tell you — on its face, that accident is just plain wrong. That’s the canary in the coalmine. I could ignore it and be surprised, but that’s not the kind of surprise I like. Or I can put out feelers and see what comes back. That’s what I did. Now I’m waiting. A smart man takes small but significant actions and waits to evaluate their effect.”
“Nobody knows I’ve got the journal.”
“Who gave it to you? How exactly did you come by it?”
“An attorney. In Seattle.”
“Then he knows. And so does anyone he’s talked to about it.”
“No, he only knows I got a package. That’s all.” Drake stopped. “Except…you’re right. He saw me reading it, so at the very least he now knows I got a book from Patricia.”
“Look. It could be nothing. Could be Patricia decided life wasn’t what it should be, and took that way out. Could be she was drunk, or high, and got her thrills in a way that wasn’t wise. But that’s not the Patricia I knew. That woman was conservative, deliberate, and very smart. The obituary says she owned a flower shop. That says it all. Does that sound like the kind of person who guns it to a hundred on a dead-man’s curve?”
“Not really.”
Jack’s tone hardened. “Who knows you came to see me?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody knows you’re in Texas? You’re positive?”
Drake stared at the ceiling, a sense of dread creeping through him. “Crap. My boss. I told him I was coming to Austin.”
“Then we already have two people who could compromise you. The attorney and your boss. What else haven’t you told me?”
“Now you’re being seriously paranoid.”
Jack ignored his comment. “What was the attorney’s name?”
“Lynch. Michael Lynch. In Seattle. Why?”
“You got a number for him?”
“Sure. Let me double-check it on my phone.” Drake pulled up his calls and thumbed through them until he found the number. He gave it, along with the address, to Jack.
Jack grunted. “Stay put. I’m going to go do some research. You want some more coffee?”
“Sure. What do you mean, some research?”
“Call it a hunch. If I was running an op to find the journal, I’d be looking for whoever handled Patricia’s affairs.”
“How could they even know that?”
“How would you do it if you were skip-tracing someone?”
Drake blinked twice. “I’d talk to her landlord. See if someone put a stop on the mail. Nose around to see who requested a death certificate.”
Jack nodded and reappraised Drake. “Huh. Maybe you do stand a chance, after all. Look, I’m not saying anyone’s after you. But it never hurts to be cautious. I told your dad that a hundred times. Now I’m telling you. Always expect the unexpected. It’s like playing chess. All strategy. Predict what your opponent will do next, and then prepare for the move. Know your options. Think two moves ahead so you can block him. And be proactive once you understand your opponent. Otherwise you’ll be reacting, which means he’s controlling the pace and the direction of the game.”