While outsider access to the pool was considered taboo, and had been forbidden for centuries, which helped keep the pool’s existence a secret, as with everything else in this life, money has a way of finding things out and changing the rules.
After Stephenson and his regular travel companion, Colonel George Brewer, both still in their mid-thirties, had learned of the pool’s existence during a late night poker game with a drunken local guide, they had each paid $50,000, under the table, in exchange for a one-time visit allowing them to witness the pool in person. The experience had been the single most satisfying event of Stephenson’s many travels and, given the chance to re-do anything in his life, he’d always known visiting the pool for a second time would be his answer.
The only problem with a re-visit was that, as a precaution to keep the pool’s location a secret, both he and Colonel Brewer had been blindfolded by the village’s tribesmen during their journey into the jungle, thereby making a return trip to same location impossible.
But now, with this gift from Colonel Brewer, he held the answer to finding the pool in his hands. With one wish from the Monkey’s Paw, he could learn the pool’s exact location and, in so doing, be able to use and re-use the pool again and again to restore his life many times over effectively getting a many-for-one value for just one wish.
In addition to that, what made the idea of finding the pool even more appealing was that he could not only have immortal life for himself but also for whomever else he chose to bring along with him without having to waste a second or third wish.
With this exhilarating thought swirling around inside his head, Stephenson had glanced over at a picture frame, intentionally catty-cornered to face him, on the end table beside his recliner. Inside the frame was a picture of his late wife, Rachel. It was the last picture taken of her. She was smiling and happy. His eyes were filled with tears when he looked down at the paw he held in his hand.
On impulse, fueled mostly by emotion, Stephenson had held the Monkey’s Paw up in his right hand, drawn in a deep breath and spoken aloud. “I wish to know the location of the “Healing Pool” in the Amazon jungle that I visited many years ago,” he commanded.
As soon as the words left his lips he’d felt an instantaneous numbness seep into the top of his head as the secret location of the pool penetrated his cerebral cortex and lodged itself there forever embedded into his long-term memory. For good or for bad he was now down to two wishes.
Satisfied he’d made a good first choice, Mr. Stephenson had reached for the picture of his wife and drew it close. Smiling, he’d kissed the picture and declared a promise to the love of his life. “Soon, my darling.”
With the pool’s location fixed in his brain, Stephenson had shuffled to his study to inspect the location on an antique world globe that decorated the room. He’d gently spun the globe to pinpoint Brazil then placed his two index fingers over the spot. Once situated he’d carefully moved his fingers, one north and the other east, along the thin Latitude and Longitude lines etched into the sphere. As he read the final coordinates, a peace settled over him.
That done, he’d formulated an immediate plan to return to the village. Although ninety-years-old and slowed by time, Stephenson was still physically able to move about on his own without assistance, but negotiating the dangers of a jungle was another story. And while bringing an outsider with him could jeopardize his welcome back to the village, there was no doubt he could not return without a strong, trustworthy companion.
He’d carefully pondered the pros and cons trying to figure out who might be the best fit for such a task. After a few hours of serious deliberation, Stephenson reached for the phone on the end table beside him and sat it in his lap.
Looking down at the phone, he’d pushed his pair of horn-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and dialed the phone number of his most trusted partner in crime — his nineteen-year-old grandson, Owen.
The phone rang three times before it was picked up.
“Hello?” Owen answered.
“Owen, this is your Grandpa.”
“Hi, Grandpa. What a surprise. Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Everything is wonderful. In fact, something rather interesting has come up and I need a sidekick.”
“Really? From the sound of your voice it sounds like fun. What is it?”
“How quickly can you make it here?”
“Within a couple of hours I guess. Why?”
“Good. Pack a bag for a few of days of vacation…and bring your passport.”
“Cool. Where are we going?”
“Just pack for hiking in warm, tropical weather, then come over and pick me up. I’ll explain everything else later. Right now, I’ve got more plans to make.”
Before the sun went down Stephenson had made all the necessary arrangements, some on faith through strangers, for the beginning leg of their trip.
The morning sun had just peeked over the horizon when Finn and Andria pulled up to the curb in front of the neighborhood’s first house on the right — a large but modest 1960’s style ranch. The name stenciled on the side of the mailbox read: STEPHENSON.
Finn switched off the ignition then shut down the headlights. They each sat quietly and monitored the surroundings for several minutes.
When nothing seemed amiss, Andria turned her hazel green eyes toward Finn and broke the silence. “So, you’ve got a classified background, huh?” she asked.
“More or less,” Finn said, as he turned to face her. “Why, is that a problem?”
“No way, José,” she replied, energetically. “If it’s anything, it’s awesome.”
“I also have some Engineering and SCUBA training in my background,” he said, then returned his attention to surveillance.
“Nice. I’m quickly adding infatuation to my list of emotions toward you,” she said, tongue-n-cheek.
Finn cut his eyes to acknowledge her sarcasm. “What about you?” he volleyed back. “What’s your story when you’re not digging up history?”
“I’m a classic bookworm and seasoned world traveler,” she said.
“No surprise there,” Finn said, while he continued to scan the terrain. “Since you’re an avid reader, what do you make of this “Monkey’s Paw” business?”
“I really don’t know. Not too long ago I’d have agreed with your cynicism, but after our recent dealings with that Death Mask, I’m more apt to believe that anything is possible where Andrew and The Powers Group are involved.”
Finn teetered his head side to side as though weighing evidence.
“But true or not,” she continued, “what scares me most about any Monkey’s Paws is the history. If you remember the story, nothing good ever comes from possessing the paw. As greedy humans, we’re constantly warned to be careful what we wish for because of the unforeseen consequences of altering fate, but no one ever listens. And now, Andrew wants us to track the troublesome thing down. What if we get axed by mere association with it?”
Finn rolled his eyes. “You’ve read too many books. Anyway, even if by some fluke we do happen to find it, I don’t plan on making any wishes of my own, so I wouldn’t fret about it just yet.”
He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth when he held up his finger to pause their conversation. There was movement to their right. His eyes shifted as he scrutinized a man at the bottom of the hill leisurely walking his dog. He remained quiet and kept watch until the two disappeared over the crest of the next hill. “It looks like the coast is clear. You ready to do this?” he asked.