Curse of the Condor (3 page)

Chapter 2

Jetta Fitzgerald looked at the man standing before her ordering her to get in his boat, and froze. This man could be dangerous. How could she get into a boat with a total stranger? And he, she had to admit, was a bit stranger than the rest of the Peruvians she'd met so far.

Lima wasn't much of a culture shock, not being much different than Chicago with all the tall buildings and crowds of people. But when she'd arrived in Iquitos, she'd started wondering what she’d gotten herself into. This was the jungle. Things and people were wild out here. Suddenly, she no longer felt safe or secure. She clutched her purse to her chest, guarding the last letter she’d received from Ryder.

He had told her he’d stumbled onto something she’d someday want to share with her students. He said he couldn’t tell her any more by mail. He’d called it ‘dangerous’ though she didn’t understand why. He’d sent along a small token of Peru for her, a small, flat crystal vulture with outspread wings, which she now wore on a chain around her neck and under her tank top close to her heart. Ryder had always been a dear to send her trinkets he thought she’d enjoy showing her students. And this one had really excited them, as it was so unique.

She couldn’t wait to thank him for it. He’d promised he’d contact her soon, and never did. Three months was a long time to wait for a promise from her only sibling. Now she feared for his safety. If her brother was in some sort of trouble as she expected, she had to be careful as to what information she gave out. She had to find him quickly and bring him home before he got mixed up with the wrong crowd.  

Teaching the sixth grade at Homer Junior High was often challenging for Jetta, but seemed like a breeze after what she’d just been through. The man standing in front of her unnerved her. The culture of the people here was shocking. She’d studied Peru with her students, only this wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned it.

The grass was always greener on the other side. They’d studied the mountains and Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Incas. She knew very little about the jungles of the Amazon, and didn’t feel comfortable with this. She normally always researched her vacation spots well before she left, but this was different. This wasn’t really a vacation. This was a sudden decision, and she hadn’t had the time to read up on what to expect.

Traveling alone wasn’t new to her. She didn’t mind spending time by herself. Her parents never understood why she wouldn’t rather travel with a companion. But it was the time she used to get in touch with her true self, and she loved it. But this, she was sure, was going to be one of the most interesting trips she’d ever taken.

It was hot and muggy, yet the strange man in the canoe wore a poncho made from llama wool, long pants and a hat. At least he had the sense to wear sandals on his feet. He had a dark mustache, wiry beard, and long, tangled hair. She tried to see his face, but it was difficult under all that facial hair.  He smelled as if he hadn't bathed in a while, and she was sure he hadn't by the amount of dirt on his toes alone.

"I'm sorry, but I can’t get into the boat with you."

He looked over his shoulder and fidgeted with a pouch attached to his waist.

"Look, lady, a moment ago you were offering money to have a stranger take you into the jungle. I’m doing it for free. Now get into the boat or I’ll leave you here. And I'm not coming back for at least six months.”

He looked over her shoulder, past her rather than at her when he spoke. She didn’t trust anyone who couldn’t look her in the eye. This man was hiding something. He offered to take her for free, which also made her cautious.

"Can we go get a drink and talk this over first?" she asked, watching him untie the line which held the boat.

"I plan on getting a drink as soon as I get home. But I'm not much for talking, so if you're looking for chit chat, count me out.”

He nodded to the two small boys who had just finished loading what looked like supplies into his boat. He told them something in Spanish and dug into his pocket and handed them each a coin.

"
Gracias, Señor Nievez,"
one of them answered and the two of them scurried away.

"
You’re
Conrado Nievez?” Jetta asked in shock.

"I am.” He held the boat stable and motioned with his head for her to enter. Jetta looked at him and then back to the boys. They ran up to the officers and were talking quickly and pointing in the opposite direction. The officers hurried off, away from the water. Jetta felt her heart sink to know any protection she may have had just left her sight. He stepped into the canoe, and she saw her last chance of finding her brother about to float away.

“Wait!" she called.

He stopped with the oar in mid-air and raised an eyebrow.

"You know my brother, Ryder, don't you?"

His grip tightened on the double-ended oar before he gave her a quick nod of assurance.

"He’s told me many times in his letters that you are a good friend of his, and also a Jivaro. That you were going to take him into the Jivaro village to do mission work. Something that hasn't been done before."

"Are you getting in or not?" he growled.

She knew she should have her head examined for even considering such an outrageous thing, but she came this far so she may as well continue. She found the man she was looking for, and he was going into the jungle. She had what she wanted, so why couldn't she convince herself she was doing the right thing?

She clutched her straw purse to her chest in a false sense of security. She looked at the dense, dark, threatening jungle looming before her, and the unkempt man staring at her from the midst of a boat that looked like it would tip over as soon as she stepped foot into it. She hated bugs, and knew the jungle was loaded with them. She couldn't swim well, and the brown water of the Amazon looked to be thick and probably harboring a dozen different diseases.

She should have stayed home in Chicago where she belonged. She should have taken her summer vacation from teaching and went somewhere like Disney World or the Wisconsin Dells, or camping at the Yogi Bear Parks with her neighbor and their four children. But instead, she'd gone off the deep end and ventured to a land she knew nothing about, and already lost everything she'd brought with, except her purse and sanity. And she knew she was going to lose one or the other as soon as she stepped foot into this man's boat.

She wet her lips and squinted in the hot sun. It burned the top of her bare head mercilessly, not to mention her skin.

"Do you know where I can find Ryder?" she asked him.

He didn't say anything, just gave a half nod with his head. She couldn't quite see through all that hair, but she thought for a second she saw his lip quiver.

She looked back to the village, but the authorities were gone. A group of men stood by the docks watching her. Several women in long, colorful skirts, and tall hats, took turns stirring the boiling contents of an iron pot that hung above an open fire. They looked away when she caught their eye. The raggedy, filthy children stood in the open doorways, several of them still clutching the clothes they'd playfully taken from her.

If she went back there, she was sure to lose her purse and what little money she had left, not to mention her passport. Once that was gone, she'd have no hope of getting back home. She didn't even know Spanish to tell anyone of her situation.

At least Conrado knew English. Plus he knew her brother. He had two things going for him, though appearance wasn't one of them. She'd just have to trust him. If her brother said he was a friend, then she knew she had nothing to fear from him. She’d have him take her to Ryder and then she'd convince her brother to give up his missionary work and come back to civilization where he belonged. They'd go home together, and she’d never have to deal with Conrado Nievez again.

"All right,” she said hesitantly. “I’ll go with you, if you promise to take me to Ryder.”

He stretched out his arm, offering her a seat in his loaded-down boat, and she noticed some kind of markings on the inside of his arm. He looked up at her with his dark, cold eyes that suddenly seemed glassier than they had before.

"Get in," he ordered. "Get in and I'll take you to him."

Chapter 3

Conrado helped the woman into the boat, steadying her as she lost her balance and almost tipped them over. She sat squashed in the midst of his packages and supplies, and he felt bad he couldn't offer her better accommodations. But then again, he wasn't expecting to have a passenger today. Hell, he wasn't expecting to find Ryder's sister looking for him either. He should have known trouble was coming when he'd seen the condor hovering above his head this morning.

Damn, he wished he'd stayed in his hammock today and not ventured out for supplies. He knew how to live off the land, thanks to his upbringing with the Jivaro. He could have lasted a lifetime in the jungle and not have had to come back to civilization for anything. But after living in Lima for the last five years, he’d softened immensely.

He got used to the convenience of prepared food, already rolled cigarettes, and imported beer instead of
chicha
, the native's version of the drink. Canned food on a rainy night sure beat the crap out of hunting for game with his blowgun. And who could blame a man for enjoying the simple pleasures in life like toilet paper or a toothbrush? Yep, he'd become soft since he'd left the Jivaro to live in the city.

But now he knew he should have stayed in the jungle in the first place. If he had, he never would have met Ryder Fitzgerald, and the man would still be alive today. Having an American mother, Conrado had spent many summers growing up by visiting the States and relatives he never knew he had. But his father had been Peruvian, and Peru had been Conrado’s home ever since the horrible day they’d died. The jungles of Peru to be exact.

He pushed off effortlessly into the waters of the Amazon, his oar dipping silently as the boat moved quickly toward the trees. He noticed the way the American woman’s knuckles were turning white from gripping one hand to the side of the canoe and the other to that silly straw purse of hers that looked like it belonged at a tourist stand.

"What's your name?" he asked, scoping their surroundings while he talked.

"Jetta," she answered.

"What?" His eyes met hers for a brief second before she looked away.

"Jetta. Jetta Fitzgerald," she said, playing with a loose piece of straw on her purse. She found more interest in that than she did him. Or perhaps she feared him and just didn’t want to show it.

"Umph," he mumbled. "Strange name." He wasn’t good at conversing with women. After all, most his life had been spent with Jivaro women who weren’t much for conversation. In Lima, he’d had several flings these past five years, but none of the women meant anything to him at all.

"I'm a school teacher," she retorted, her chin raising in the process, this time her eyes looking straight at him. He met her gaze, finding himself pulled into their blue, swirling depths. He wondered how old she was or if she’d ever had a lover. She looked innocent and naive. She didn’t belong anywhere this side of the equator, let alone so close to him.

"How far is it to your home? Where exactly do you reside in the jungle?” she asked, as if he were her pupil and she were quizzing him on a geography lesson. Then she threw another question at him, one he was not prepared to answer. “Is Ryder staying with you, or is he located with the Jivaro tribe, or perhaps deep in the jungle?"

If only she knew exactly how deep in the jungle her brother lie. But he couldn’t tell her. Not now. Not here, not like this. He’d have to find a way to break the news to her when she wasn’t so vulnerable.

"We've only been traveling for five minutes,” he told her. “Why don't you relax that grip of yours and try to take in the sights?"

Conrado saw her nod. Her long, blond hair tied back in a ponytail bobbed as she did so. She placed the smashed straw purse on her lap, putting her forearm through the long straps, throwing him a sideways glance.

What did she think? That he was going to try to steal it? As if he was in need of anything she could possibly possess. Her other hand still clutched the side of the boat. The canoe was so loaded down with supplies and the weight of their bodies, that her fingers were nearly touching the water over the side. She squinted in the hot sun, her cheeks a bright crimson, and Conrado knew by nightfall she'd be in pain.

Jetta looked around at her surroundings, the dense foliage of the jungle swallowing them up as they moved down the river. She felt like a mere speck of sand on a vast desert floor. Never did the world seem so large or foreign, and she so out of place.

The canopy of trees towered above her, reaching so high she couldn’t see the tops. Vines hung down, plants shot up, and she sat in the midst of it all feeling like she was being devoured by the elements of nature. This was more wilderness than she’d ever seen. The rain forest took her breath away. 

A slight breeze drifted over the water, filling her nostrils with the musty dampness that soaked the spongy shores and made its home among the moss-laden trees. The breeze stung her sunburned cheeks and nose, like an adder lashing out its tongue in a wicked kiss of welcoming her to the jungle. She curiously looked down and surveyed the tan water, unable to see the bottom. She wondered just what kinds of things lived in there, then decided she'd rather not know.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, hoping and praying this was all just a bad dream. She couldn't really be sitting in a dugout canoe with a jungle man floating down the Amazon to the middle of God knows where. Gee, she'd have one enormous tale to tell when she swapped 'what I did over the summer' stories with her students.

Her eyes shot open at the sound of screeching, or was it squawking from the trees above her. The flicker of red and green flashed in a streak of sunlight, and she saw a flock of huge parrot-like birds hanging onto vines, eating fruit off a tree. Then in one startled motion, commotion in their squawks, they took off in flight. She'd never seen or heard anything like it.

"Macaws," he told her.

"I suppose we startled them," she said.

"Not us. There's a predator somewhere nearby."

"A p-predator?" Her eyes scanned the shore, much the same as his eyes scanned their surroundings earlier. “What kind of predator?"

“Probably just an ocelot. Hiding out till nightfall in the trees somewhere."

"An ocelot." She’d shown a photo of one to her students just last week. “A small wildcat of the Amazon region.”

"That’s right. Kind of like a small jaguar in a way."

"Jaguar," she repeated, suddenly the image of a cute, small furry animal growing in size - its teeth lengthening and sharpening in the process. She hadn’t compared the ocelot to a jaguar before. But now that he mentioned it, she was sure it was just as deadly. She could only hope they weren’t going to be running into either of these on the trip.

He stopped rowing and put the oar in the boat, letting them drift instead. He took off his hat and handed it to her. Instinctively, she grabbed it.

Next, he put his arms behind his neck, and in one swift motion brought the poncho up and over his head, exposing his bare, bronzed chest. She gasped when he handed her the poncho. Now she sat with a half-naked man, trapped in an overcrowded canoe with her knees rubbing up against his.

"Put it on," he told her. "It may be thick and warm, but at least it'll protect you from the sun. With skin as white as yours, you'll be roasted in no time.”

She surveyed his sturdy chest as he paddled, her back to where they were headed. She didn’t doubt he could maneuver without an oar if need be. Backward, forward, nothing was impossible for this man, and he made it all look so easy. His muscles worked with each dip of the oar, displaying corded sinew in perfect proportions under his golden skin. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. The only time she’d ever seen someone with a body like this was in her dreams, or perhaps a magazine. But this was real. And he was so close he could probably hear her sweating.

She only hoped he couldn’t hear her thoughts. His arms and chest were covered with tattoos. Most were some kind of designs that wrapped around his limbs. Some were in black, others in vibrant colors of orange, green and red. Then she notice the head and body of a snake that spiraled down his chest and disappeared into the waistband of his pants. She caught a slight smirk from him, and quickly darted her eyes in the opposite direction.

That's when she noticed the big bird on his left upper arm.

"That’s an interesting vulture,” she said, subconsciously putting her hand to her chest where her own lie beneath.

"Condor," he answered and kept rowing, not bothering to explain anything further.

Condor. So her trinket wasn’t a vulture but a condor. That sounded much better, indeed. "You like tattoos, don't you?"

Silence. He just nodded toward the hat and poncho in her hands.

She looked at the clothing and then back to the man who sat before her, and she wondered if she really wanted to wear his clothes. His body may look impressive, but he had a lot of facial hair. Too much. And she wasn’t quite certain about his hygiene. And those dirty toes made her wonder when he’d last bathed.

"I don't have cooties," he told her. "My clothes are safe to wear."

"Oh, I didn't think that - I just . . . " It was exactly what she was thinking. Actually, lice to get technical and several tropical diseases, but she would never admit it.

His eyes met hers and then his gaze dropped down her chest and to her bare legs. He had a hungry look in his perusal, and suddenly she had the feeling the predator he’d spoken of was right there in the boat with her. Without giving it another thought, she hurriedly pulled the poncho over her and slapped the hat upon her head.

"That's better," he told her with a half smile. "Now you'll fit right in around here."

She felt ridiculous not to mention hot and itchy wearing the poncho, but she knew he was right about protecting herself from the sun. Her suntan lotion was in her stolen luggage, and she was now a victim of the elements, even without her umbrella should it begin to rain. Her proper upbringing told her she should thank the man, but for some reason, she couldn’t do it. Not yet. Maybe later when they met up with Ryder she’d express her gratitude then.

He said she'd fit in now, but she knew that was a lie. She'd never fit in when it came to the jungle, and neither did she want to. She was a city girl from Chicago, not some sort of Jane looking for her Tarzan. She rather liked her life of comfort, and couldn’t wait to get back to her apartment, sink into a hot bubble bath and listen to Chopin while she sipped champagne and ate Godiva chocolates. Alone, sadly, as she’d never found the right man to share it with. But still, it was better than what she was experiencing now.

She didn’t like this land or the people. And she didn’t quite feel comfortable around Conrado, even if her brother raved how well he could be trusted. All she wanted was to find Ryder and get as far away from Peru and Conrado Nievez as possible.

* * *

Prospero Rodolfo hid his withered hand in the folds of his missionary robe, and nodded for his man to pay the boys.

“Are you sure that was Conrado Nievez?” he asked quietly.

“
Sí, señor
,” said one of the two boys. “But are you sure you are not the authorities?”

“We’re missionaries, can’t you see that,
estúpido
?” barked out one of his men, Arlo. Fermin, the heavier of the two laughed, his round belly shaking.

Prospero silenced them with a shake of his head. Then he smiled and looked back to the two young boys. “We don’t want to hurt him,
amigo
. We just need him to help guide us into the jungle. So we can help the natives, of course. Now tell me, where can I find someone to load our supplies? And of course, we’ll need a boat to follow Conrado.”

* * *

Jetta thought they'd never get to his home in the jungle. They must have rowed for hours, the man sitting before her never even stopping to rest. He'd turned around many times watching the banks, searching the water, but never even caused the canoe to wobble. When she'd repositioned herself trying to get the cramp out of her leg, she'd nearly dumped them and his supplies right into the Amazon.

She was beginning to have her doubts about this whole situation. Maybe this man wasn't really Conrado Nievez after all. Maybe he wasn't taking her to her brother, but instead to kill her and throw her dead body to the jaguars to eat for dinner.

The sky grew darker, and the canopy above them virtually closed off any of the sun’s rays trying to get through. She was no longer sure if it was day or night, and had to glance at her wrist watch to assure herself it was only late afternoon.

"Don't bother," Conrado mumbled, looking away from her over his shoulder.

She jerked at the sound of his voice. He hadn't spoken much to her since they left Iquitos, and she’d gotten used to listening to the lull of the jungle.

"Pardon me?" she asked.

"Don't bother," he repeated a bit louder almost as if she were irritating him. He never looked at her, just kept watching ahead down the river as he rowed.

"Don't bother with what?"

"The watch," he said.