Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 (46 page)

Nadia

The next morning we all arrived at the hotel restaurant for breakfast at the specified time—eight o’clock. All of us, that is, except for Russ and Jameson. Mallory and I had stopped by their room on our way out and when Russ answered the door we heard the unmistakable sound of Jameson puking in the bathroom. It was loud. Closing the bathroom door hadn’t occurred to him, I guess. Hearing the guttural sounds of someone throwing up, and the splash that came afterward made me wince. Gross.

“We might be a little late,” Russ said, glancing over his shoulder. “My roommate is having a few problems. You better go ahead without us.”

In the elevator, Mallory said, “I don’t like the way this is going. Between the death threat and Jameson getting trashed and puking his guts out, I bet you any money they make us go home.”

The night before both Mallory and I’d agreed that Mrs. Whitehouse’s reaction to finding the rock had probably been quiet hysteria. I wasn’t looking forward to hearing her go on about it when we all met up that morning. I didn’t want to go home, but I had to agree with Mallory. We were off to a very bad start. “You’re probably right,” I said.

Our conversation was cut short when the elevator door opened and a distinguished looking man in an expensive suit boarded. He nodded amiably at us, the only other occupants in the elevator. “Buenos diás.”

I answered automatically. “Buenos diás.”

Mallory elbowed me and whispered. “And you said you didn’t know Spanish.”

I grinned. “I’m quick that way.”

Breakfast was included with the cost of the room, according to our information sheet, so we were expected to show up and eat it. The Praetorian Guard, the mysterious organization that was funding this trip, was firm on some things. Mr. Specter had told us on the plane that those who missed out on breakfast would have to wait for the next meal.

I expected the kind of continental breakfast I’d experienced traveling with my parents when we stayed at hotels in northern Wisconsin. Cereal, fruit, pastries along with coffee and juice, but this was much nicer. Much, much nicer. The buffet on the opposite end of the room was expansive with silver-domed lids and trays of delicacies. Mr. Specter, Mrs. Whitehouse, and Kevin Adams were already sitting at a long table, drinking coffee.

“Buenos diás!” I said, before Mallory could beat me to it. Everyone looked amused. I still kept my hood up, not wanting to gross anyone out over breakfast, but I was starting to feel more comfortable with the group. Maybe eventually I’d be okay with having my hood down if it was just us and it wasn’t meal time.

I took a seat next to Mrs. Whitehouse and she abruptly got up to get more food.

“Nice manners, Whitehouse,” Kevin Adams called after her. And then to us. “Someone’s got a bug up their butt this morning.” I was beginning to really like Kevin. He was a little unpolished, but genuine. With him there was no pretense. The words came out of his mouth unfiltered. You knew where you stood.

“Is she upset about something?” I asked.

Kevin shrugged. “If she is, she’s not talking about it. She’s just grumpy all the way around.”

The waitress came and took our drink orders and told us, in English, to feel free to go up to the buffet at any time. “So where are the boys?” Mr. Specter asked. I made a pretense of straightening out my paper place mat, afraid to meet his eyes. He was a sharp one. I could tell.

“They’ll be down in a minute,” Mallory said with a breezy wave of her hand. “The story I heard is that they overslept.”

“Guys that age, they need their shut eye,” Kevin Adams said. “I used to sleep so deeply, my mother used to wonder if I was drugged. Of course, half the time she was right.” He slapped the table, making the salt and pepper shakers tremble. Mr. Specter shot him a look of disapproval. I tried to suppress a laugh, but a choked giggle still came out. “What?” Kevin asked innocently of Mr. Specter. “You know I’m kidding, right kids?”

When Mrs. Whitehouse came back to the table, she took a seat on the opposite side, leaving the place mat next to me sullied with her coffee drips and used spoon. “We’re friends now, is that it?” Kevin said giving her a playful punch in the arm. She gave him a thin-lipped smile and took a sip from her cup. I wondered when she was going to say something about the rock and the death threat. So far, no one had said a word, and neither of the men showed any signs that anything was amiss.

Mallory and I loaded our plates with eggs, French toast, apple strudel, and some kind of pink sausage that looked undercooked, but tasted delicious. Around us tables started to fill up, some with couples and others with businessmen. Everyone had all the time in the world, from the looks of it.

The voices I heard were a mixture of Spanish and English. I tried to eavesdrop, but unlike restaurants at home, people spoke softly.

We were halfway through our meal when Kevin said, “Maybe I should go and see what’s taking those young’uns.” He laughed at his own silliness. “Russ and Jameson do know where the restaurant is, don’t they?”

“If they don’t, they can ask at the front desk,” Mr. Specter said dryly. “It’s not a secret.”

Mallory nudged me under the table, her foot grazing my ankle. I couldn’t even imagine what was happening up on the fifth floor, but I could guess. Jameson was busy emptying his stomach, and Russ, knowing we were supposed to stay together, didn’t want to leave him. What a disaster.

“I’m sending out a search party,” Kevin said, pushing his chair back. “And I’m not coming back until I find them. Tally ho!”

As I watched him cross the room, I had a thought:
this is the beginning of the end
. I’d barely begun to live a life outside of my parents’ house and it would be cut short. I would be left saying I once had breakfast in Peru, and that would be the end of my story. Next to me, I felt the same vibe coming from Mallory. Last night she’d been afraid, but Russ was right. Daylight had driven away the fear, and now she wanted to stay as much as I did.

Kevin flashed a smile at the pretty hostess before breezing though the doorway, but before my eyes left that spot he was back again, now accompanied by Russ. It was like a magic trick. He walked through the door alone and turned around and came back with his arm around Russ’s shoulders, like he’d created him. If he’d had a cape, it would have been a Las Vegas performance.

“Look who I found,” Kevin said enthusiastically as they approached the table. “Turns out he was heading this way.” He gave Russ a friendly slap on the back.

“Really,” Mr. Specter said. “And where is your amigo?” His expression said he knew something was up, he just wasn’t sure what it was.

“Jameson was right behind me,” Russ said. “He stopped at the concierge desk to look at some brochures.” He glanced back at the entrance. “He should be here any second.”

Mallory’s toe found my ankle again. This time it hurt. “Did you guys sleep well?” she asked sweetly.

Russ shrugged. “I could have used a few more hours, but it was good enough.” The waitress approached, welcomed him and took his juice order.

“You can go up to the buffet table,” Mrs. Whitehouse said, and I realized these were the first words I’d heard her say since we arrived.

“I’ll wait for Jameson,” he said. All I could think is that he’d be waiting a long, long time. The puking noises I’d heard earlier were the sounds of someone who wasn’t going to want to eat for the rest of the day. And maybe not tomorrow, either.

“Did you sleep well, Mrs. Whitehouse?” Mallory asked.

I felt my body stiffen, wondering if Mallory’s question would give her an opening to mention the death threat, but all Mrs. Whitehouse said was, “As well as anyone else, I guess.”

“Here he is,” Russ said, standing up to wave Jameson over to our table.

Every one of us turned our attention to the last incoming member of our group. Mallory and I were sure Jameson would look like someone who should be hooked up to an IV. His appearance then, came as a shock.

He looked fine, the same as he always did, maybe even better than usual, since he had a little color in his usually very pale cheeks. “Good morning,” he said, pulling up a chair on the end of the table and plunking himself awkwardly down. He never seemed to fit on standard furniture.

“We wondered where you were,” Mr. Specter said, looking at him over the top of his glasses.

“Sorry, I overslept.” Jameson made the best apologetic face I’d ever seen. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Mr. Specter said, looking at him over his wire-rimmed glasses. “And I say that not to be dictatorial, but because in order for this trip to run smoothly, everyone has to be accounted for at all times. It’s a safety issue and it’s very serious.”

“I understand, sir. You can count on me from now on.”

He and Russ got up to visit the buffet, and when they came back with their plates heaped full, Mallory and I looked on in amazement. “You’re really going to eat all that?” she asked, gesturing to Jameson’s plate.

“Yeah, I’m starving.” He dug into the scrambled eggs and took a bite. I didn’t know much about hangovers, but this had to be a record fast recovery time.

“I want to take a moment to talk about the rest of our day,” Mr. Specter said. “We’ll be doing a walking tour of Miraflores and end up spending a good amount of time in Parque Kennedy, which is the specified site of our first location.” He was speaking in shorthand because we were in a public place, but all of us knew he was referring to the first of the three locations on the sheet of paper Mr. Hofstetter gave Russ before he died. It was amazing, really, that latitude and longitude could be used so precisely that it could pinpoint something as small as a park.

I couldn’t imagine what we’d find there, but there had to be something significant about the place, or it wouldn’t have been on the map. I thought about how incredible it would be if we found David Hofstetter there sitting on a bench, reading a book or feeding the birds.

“What will we do at the park?” Mallory wondered aloud.

“Keep your ears and eyes open, missy,” Kevin said. “Look for Waldo, or anything else that stands out.”

“If anyone approaches you, use caution, but listen to what they have to say,” Mr. Specter said. “And commit it to memory.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Nadia, we’ll be relying on your empathic abilities to pick up on anyone in distress or anyone who is lying. How close do you have to be to pick up on something like that?”

“Pretty close,” I said. He looked disappointed. “At least a foot or so, but closer is better. If I’m touching someone, I can get a really accurate reading.”

“Well, do what you can,” he said.

“How long will it take to get to Miraflores?” asked Russ.

“We’re in Miraflores, stupid,” Jameson said. Their short reign of friendship appeared to be over.

“I thought we were in Lima.” Russ looked to Mr. Specter for confirmation.

Mr. Specter said, “We landed in Lima, and drove to Miraflores. It’s a suburb of Lima. It’s easy to get them confused.”

“And some people are easily confused.” Jameson took a bite of toast.

Russ said, “Shut up.”

“Is Alex coming with us?” Mallory asked. I’d kind of forgotten about Alex, but she hadn’t.

“Not today,” Kevin said. “Most people in Miraflores speak some English. We’ll be able to walk around by ourselves and find our way pretty easily. When we get on the bus to head out of town tomorrow, Alex will join us then.”

“There’s really nothing that can go wrong in Miraflores,” Mr. Specter said. “You’ll be as safe as you’d be at home.”

Nadia

We spent the morning walking, just getting a feel for being in a city in Peru, but the adults were always hanging right over our shoulders, so it was impossible to speak privately amongst ourselves. Mr. Specter, in particular, seemed determined not to give us any breathing room. I constantly found my eyes drawn to Jameson, puzzled by his apparent health and energy. I thought the breakfast food might disagree with him, but he seemed more than fine. In fact, when we stopped for lunch at a restaurant on top of a cliff overlooking the ocean, he ate again with gusto. At one point, I was able to catch Russ’s eye. I gestured to Jameson like
what gives
? Russ, noticing the proximity of the adults right behind us, mouthed something that indicated he’d explain later.

Our next stop, at a Mercado, an open-air marketplace, made me hopeful I could find out what had happened, but the chaperones herded us around like stray cattle and there weren’t any opportunities to talk. There were no stores at the Mercado, just stall after stall, each one filled to the brim with brightly colored merchandise. Place mats, pottery, jewelry, blankets, carved chess pieces, dolls. Some of the stalls were tiny, not much bigger than an office cubicle. There were no cash registers. Instead, each vendor made change out of a pouch, and when someone made a purchase, they pulled plastic bags out from under their chairs. Some of the women attending the stalls were young, with babies slung across their chests or resting in strollers. I kept waiting to hear a baby cry, but all of them were good, like adorable black-haired dolls.

Mrs. Whitehouse hung out with “us girls,” seeming to take a special interest in Mallory, and asking her opinion about various gem stone earrings and bracelets. As if Mallory were a jewelry expert. Kevin Adams bought an armload of t-shirts a few stalls away, and then he and Jameson tracked us down to show off their purchases. “I’m set for clothing for the next decade!” he joked. At least I think he was joking.

Jameson had a large plastic bag bulging with stuff, but the one thing he wanted to show us was a long leather cord with two leather-covered balls on either end. “Look what I found,” he said, as if we’d be awed by his discovery. He held the cord up over head and let the tennis-ball sized balls swing like a pendulum.

“What is it?” Mallory asked.

“This is what is known as a bola.” He gave it a shake, which made the two balls collide with a loud thwack. “A decorative one, but the vendor told me that if you swung this around and got enough velocity you could kill a guy.” Jameson sounded gleeful. “There are rocks under the leather.”