Up here ends the sidewalk
And the Old West begins
Drake focused on the job at hand, keeping his eyes peeled especially now that Jenny had found real signs of a human presence. Human? He thought. Fuck, I hope so.
They came at length to the enormous inland Salton Sea, a shallow rift lake located directly on the San Andreas fault line. Created by accident, its salinity was higher than that of the Pacific Ocean and was once much larger and called Lake Cahuilla. As the vehicles found the marina, Drake saw an abandoned boat stuck in the ground.
“I hope we haven’t gone through all this for that speedboat, guys.”
Jenny didn’t even chuckle. “We’ll be beyond here in just a few minutes, heading west again.”
Drake stared at the pure white earth, bright under the blazing sun. Buildings dotted the marina sparsely and it felt like another ghost town. He was happy to spot a young man leaning out of a window, watching them.
“Another weird area,” he said.
“Dude, this is America. Get used to it.”
“Well, passing an abandoned-looking auto shop painted with the words 24 hour repair doesn’t give me much hope.”
Beyond the Salton Sea, the barren landscape encompassed their horizons once again, dotted and dappled here and there by twisted tangles of green. The marina and its odd lake were left far behind as the day wore on. Jenny forged her own path, staying stealthy and hugging the dunes. How she found her way in such a featureless landscape, Drake never knew but he was glad she was along for the ride. Her progress was sometimes slow, sometimes even stealthy, but always considered and careful. Of course, even his soldier’s patience was beginning to wear thin. They had been out in this wilderness for far too long. Before they crested any hill of significance she always halted the convoy and inspected ahead. It was about thirty minutes later when her standard reaction suddenly changed.
Drake saw her hit the dirt and stay there. At first he was horrified, thinking she had been shot, but then she rolled over, giving them a small signal.
Get out of sight.
Immediately he took charge, guiding Yorgi to drive their Jeep to the nearest cover and then beckoning Smyth over. The small stand of trees huddled up against a dune would work with a lazy, careless observer — aka the Pythians’ new bunch of mercs — but not with anyone of even the slightest prowess.
Nevertheless, Drake and the rest of the team crawled and scrambled their way to Jenny’s side. The tracker had shuffled through heaped sand, dirt and rocks to the bottom of the steep slope by that time.
“Over that rise,” she whispered, her red hair now matted and yellow with sand. “I’m pretty sure it’s what you’re looking for.”
Drake stared at her. Despite his willingness and tenacity to explore he was surprised to find he had believed this entire quest would be nothing but a wild goose chase. Even when the mercenaries attacked he assumed it had to be some kind of trap.
“A ship?” He all but goggled at her. “Up there?”
“Take a look.” Jenny shrugged. “Over the rise.”
Racked by mixed emotions of awe and trepidation, incredulity and astonishment, the Yorkshireman crept steadily up the sandy slope. Smyth wasted no time dropping to his side and Jenny crawled behind them to take another look. Drake stopped twice to listen and to examine their surroundings with a detailed eye. As the crest approached he slowed even further, sinking as low as the hard earth would allow.
At last, he peered over the edge.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Drake felt his face go slack as a lost wonder from a bygone age filled his field of vision.
Beyond the crest of the slope lay a deep valley. About a third of the way down the opposite slope, half buried into its vertical side, its deck even now being exposed by a bevy of mercenary workers, was a perilously perched, ancient pirate galleon.
Men slipped and skidded downhill about twenty feet to reach the excavation around its deck, taking their lives into their own hands. They worked very slowly, fearfully. No wonder this was taking some time. The great bulge that constituted the galleon’s side jutted out from the slope’s face, an enormous stepping stone. Drake saw several rivers of sand falling away from the unseen base of the ship and winced.
That thing could go at any moment.
Or it could last an eternity.
Maybe it had. Maybe sometimes the valley filled up and allowed men to walk across. Maybe the other side emptied of sand and allowed men a glimpse of what lay beneath. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was the ship was real and the Pythians were here.
“It’s… staggering,” Jenny whispered, the first time Drake had seen her anything other than entirely self-assured.
“It’s cool,” Smyth agreed. “Sorta cool enough to strip even my coolness away.”
Drake gave him a look, followed by Jenny. Smyth motioned ahead. “Stop staring at me, guys. There’s a friggin’ ship stuck to the side of that sand dune.”
“I did notice,” Drake said. “And the boatful of mercenaries attached to it. I wonder where Bell is at?”
Jenny motioned briefly toward the top of the sand hill and away to the right. Drake tore his gaze away from the galleon. There, arrayed a short distance from the edge of the drop, were a muddled arrangement of camouflaged tents, covered by wire netting. He fished a pair of binoculars out of his pack.
“Jackpot. I see Bell and Bay-Dale just lounging over there. Deck chair, I think. Bay-Dale has a glass of red.”
Smyth flushed with anger. “Figures. Let the commoners do the work and take the risk whilst the management sit back and laugh.”
“It could be worse,” Karin offered. “In ancient times, in Europe and Egypt, the Kings and Queens would have roped their own people into this undertaking. Literally.”
“There’s a waiter over there too.” Drake rubbed his eyes tiredly, just happy that the endless drudgery of the search was over. “Lauren, you keep saying Bell’s a potential ally in the enemy camp. I must admit, I really don’t see that.”
Lauren exhaled. “After everything I witnessed in that hotel room with General Stone, I’d like a chance to try.”
Drake lowered the binoculars. “He’s over there hobnobbing with Bay-Dale, whom we know to be less than sea scum. The guy’s an ass.”
“Maybe they’re drawing Bell in. The more time you spend in someone’s company the more you accept their failings. I know people, Drake. I read people. If I wasn’t good at it I’d be long dead by now.”
Drake hesitated. Lauren was correct, of course. Her job — essentially her old job — challenged her with that very decision every day. He looked away to the east where the galleon’s narrow valley ended and the desert became a flat surface again. The way across was easy — a fifteen minute walk — so he couldn’t even dissuade her with that excuse.
“I don’t like it,” he said.
Lauren glanced at Smyth. “Should I even ask what you think?”
“They’re both arrogant pricks. I favor burying them up to their necks in sand and leaving ‘em both with their wine glasses balanced on their fucking condescending heads.”
Drake laughed. “Now there’s a plan.”
“Bell…” Lauren paused, thinking hard, “is a good man at heart. I know he is. I liked him, despite what happened in that hotel room. He was nice. I can make him help us.”