Tenderloin (Abby Kane FBI Thriller) (12 page)

But what was most promising and most exciting was that he appeared to be controllable. And that was the most important step forward. Julio had high hopes for the human.

Elan grabbed the tray holding the syringes and followed his brother out of the room. From the outside near the observation window, they watched and waited with great interest as the drug worked its way through the young man’s body. Would Malcolm #70 be the success they’d worked so hard for? The Ortegas could only watch and wait. Two minutes had passed, enough time for the drug to take effect, but still the man lay silently without movement. Julio flicked his thumb against his forefinger, a nervous tic he’d had since childhood. Elan swallowed and adjusted the safety glasses on his face.

“Wait, brother,” Elan said. “Give it time.”

No sooner he had spoken than the young man started to twitch.

Chapter 27

I awoke the next morning in a hut, lying on a cot with a thin blanket covering me. I sort of expected a headache but instead felt fine and rested. I quickly lifted the blanket to determine what state of dress I was in.
Clothed, except for my shoes. Whew.

A moment later, Cabrera poked his head in. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s eight. Time for you to get up.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t you remember?”

“Well, I remember the ceremony and drinking from the gourd. After that, nothing.”

“That, my friend, was the tribe’s version of moonshine.”

“Moonshine?”

“Yeah, it’s made from a root that I can’t recall, but it’s fermented for a few weeks with some fruit for flavor—”

“Fruit for flavor? Could have fooled me.”

“It’s harmless, but too much of it will knock you on your butt.”

“I’m guessing that’s what happened to me.”

“That and more. You danced, you sang, you pretended you were a shaolin priest here to avenge your master.”

I laughed and discovered that my head hurt slightly after all. “I didn’t do that. You’re lying.”

“I am,” he said laughing, “but you did sing and dance a lot. And I’ll be honest; it’s a good thing you’re good at your day job.”

It was embarrassing to hear Cabrera tell me this. At what point did our professional demeanor get thrown out the window? We were agents of the US government here to investigate a case, not to partake in a tribe’s version of a house party serving jungle juice.

“Look, don’t worry. For the most part, you behaved yourself and acted as expected for anyone who drank as much as you did.”

I was embarrassed and wanted nothing else but to move on from that subject. “Promise me this doesn’t leave the jungle.”

Cabrera made the sign of a cross over his chest. “Promise.”

“Where’s Rapau?” I asked.

“Rapau is meeting with the elders.”

I sat there quietly, unsure of what to do next.

“You could probably use a bath.”

My body perked up.
Good idea!
Bath was the magic word. I was dying to wash off the layers of jungle that had collected on my body.

“I didn’t realize they had showers, but I’m dying for one. Where is the bathroom? It’s not communal is it?”

Cabrera chuckled. “I guess you could say it’s communal. Come on. Gather your things, and I’ll take you there.” Cabrera left my hut, and I lay there thinking this was a joke, but he didn’t poke his head back in. I wrapped the blanket around me and grabbed my soap and shampoo. A shared bathroom was better than no bathroom.

A few minutes later, I found myself standing on the banks of a nearby river. “Don’t tell me we have to cross this to get to the bathroom.”

“Nope, the river is the bathroom, bath, shower, spa… whatever you want it to be,” he laughed.

The river was lazy and slow flowing. I certainly wasn’t afraid of being swept away by rough under currents or being bashed into a large rock. Surprisingly, the water was fairly clear and not like the silt-laden pictures of the Amazon River we often see. Still, I was nervous. “I am not taking a bath in that. How do I know there aren’t piranhas or alligators in there?”

“First off, it’s a myth that piranhas eat humans. Secondly, they don’t have alligators here. They have caimans.”

“Cai-whats?”

“Black caimans. They’re like a crocodile but much more vicious. But I’ve been told that none have been seen along this river for months.”

That’s not what I wanted to hear. Cabrera continued to flash his stupid, handsome smile. I could only imagine what I looked like, and his constant joking had started to irritate me. “So now what? I’m supposed to trust that I won’t get eaten?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you it’s safe,” he said as he bent over to untie his boots. “You’ll be fine, Abby. Relax.”

One by one, he flung them off. Next came the shirt. I’ll admit, I visually molested his toned chest and washboard abdomen. All of it was committed to memory, even how the hair on his chest perfectly swirled around each developed pectoral, only then to gather and form a cute little trail leading down the middle of his firm stomach and disappear behind the waistband of his shorts. It might have appeared as if I ogled him like a smitten, teen girl, but I didn’t. I’m a detective at heart, and my ability to take in all the details quickly is a skill I developed over the years.

That’s exactly what happened: objective observation. I wasn’t interested in Cabrera. Nope, not even a little.

He walked to the river as he fumbled with his zipper.

“You’re really going into the river?” I asked.

“Sure am. It’s the only way you’re going to feel safe. Plus, I could use a bath,” he said as his shorts and boxers fell to the ground as one, leaving his bare ass staring back at me. It didn’t help that the tan marks made it pop. With every step he took, I watched the muscle in each cheek ripple until he finally dived into the river. Again, my detective skills had automatically kicked in, forcing me to take in the details of his tight behind in that brief moment. It’s torture being this good.

I was sticky, itched, and probably had started to smell. There was no avoiding the river.

“Come in, Abby,” Cabrera shouted as he swam farther out. “It’s completely safe. I was joking with you earlier.”

When in Rome…
I walked up to the riverbank and stuck a toe in. It was warm. “Turn around,” I shouted.

Cabrera laughed and spun around. I took a quick look around for any villagers before letting the blanket fall to the ground. I slipped out of my clothes quickly and tiptoed into the river. A few steps like Cabrera did, then I dived. I was surprised by how deep and warm the river was, so I stayed close to the bank where my feet could touch bottom while I still had enough water for cover. I won’t kid you when it I say it took a lot not to scream out every time I felt movement around my legs. I kept telling myself it was tiny cute fish.

I threw a bar of soap at Cabrera. I then poured a generous helping of shampoo into my hand and proceeded to wash my hair.

“You’re the first person I know to bring shampoo into the jungle.”

I smiled and continued to wash. I had to rinse and repeat three times before my hair felt squeaky clean. I chucked the bottle over to him, and he responded with the bar of soap.

“When can we interview the witness?”

“He’s next on today’s agenda. As soon as we’re done here, we can talk to him.”

I scrubbed my body as quickly as I could, making sure every nook and crack had been cleaned. Even though Cabrera said he was joking about the caimans, I didn’t want to be in the river any longer than needed. A half hour later, I exited the river and covered myself with the blanket. I could hear a naked Cabrera following right behind me. Before turning around, I waited what I thought was ample time for him to get his pants back on. He stalled.

Luckily, he saved me the embarrassment and had put on his boxers, but that’s all he wore as he ran both hands through his hair, wringing the water from it. Hundreds of shiny beads glistened in the sun as they ran across his toned body.

Damn my detective skills.

Chapter 28

Rapau, Cabrera, and I gathered under a large wooden structure. It was one of their communal spaces but had been cleared for our use. Our witness had joined us, and so did the three elders. It had taken an adventure to get to this moment. We were all eager to get started.

The witness, Trumak, wasn’t a young man. He looked as if he could be one of the elders. He was shirtless but wore western shorts. He had the typical rice bowl haircut all the men shared, though the wooden spheres that ran through his earlobes were larger than most. He had a smile on his face that I liked instantly, particularly since none of the elders shared his enthusiasm. I didn’t bother with pleasantries and told Trumak to tell us everything he saw.

With Rapau translating, Trumak said outsiders inhabited the shack. They kept to themselves and were very secretive about what they did. The tribe didn’t bother with them because they were not on what they considered their land.

“Is the shack still here?” I asked.

Rapau shook his head as Trumak spoke. “He said the dead boy’s father tore most of it down.”

“Why?”

“He believed what Trumak said about seeing the
muerto viviente
attack his son.”

Here we go again with the zombies.
“Let me see if got this straight. He saw a stumbling man craving brains?”

Rapau’s head shook side to side. Clearly the Hollywood version of a zombie wasn’t something he was familiar with. “The man who attacked the boy had evil in his eyes. He was also a member of the village and a cripple in one of his legs. Yet that day, he moved like a strong, healthy man. When Trumak called his name, he didn’t respond. He says the man’s eyes were dead.”

“The motor was running, but no one was in the driver’s seat,” Cabrera added.

Rapau looked at him. “Yes, that’s one way of putting it.”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“He ran off. They found him dead a few hours later.”

“How did he die?”

“No one knows. His body had no visible wounds.”

“What do they do with their dead?”

“They burn them.”

I straightened up and let out a big breath. “Just my luck.” I shook my head as I looked at Cabrera before turning back to Rapau. “And the outsiders? What happened to them?”

“They disappeared.”

“Seems to me if we find them, we’ll find more answers,” I said.

“You’re still not buying the living dead story, are you?” Cabrera asked without a hint of laughter.

He can’t be serious, can he?

My left eyebrow made like a mountain peak as I shifted my gaze over to Cabrera. “Don’t tell me you believe in zombies.”

His shoulders scrunched up, and his head bobbed from side to side. “I grew up believing this sort of folklore. Yeah, with age I’ve become more reasonable, but if what they’re saying isn’t true, how could a man be a cripple one day and a warrior the next?”

Chapter 29

Later, after lunch with the villagers, Trumak took us to see the remains of the wooden shack. There wasn’t much left: splintered wood and broken glass—Pyrex labware to be precise—made up most of the debris. Scattered on the ground were a few Bunsen burners and a storage cooler with racks of test tubes spilling from it. All of them were empty. I wondered what damage the outsiders might have done to the lab to cover their tracks before the father of the dead boy came along. Even with the extensive damage, it was clear that experiments were being conducted. These outsiders had taken a villager and used him as a guinea pig.

By the time we returned to the village, we had made the decision to spend the night and head back to Mitú first thing the next morning. Not something I wanted, but necessary. The jungle was beautiful and amazing, but the accommodations… I had no idea how much I would sorely miss a proper bed and bath. I did brave another trip to the river before sundown. That day had been extra humid, and I had become extra sticky. Another woman and her two children were bathing at the river when I arrived—much better than a laughing Cabrera. When I returned to my hut, I discovered that all my things were missing.

“I’ve got a problem,” I said when I found Cabrera. “I can’t find my stuff.”

“That hut you were in earlier is special. It’s reserved for sick people or women giving birth. You’re bunking with me now.”

Great.

“Don’t roll your eyes like you’re disappointed. You know this sleepover is going to be fun.”

Laughter burst out of my mouth. “I think you’re looking forward to this more than I am. And this isn’t a sleepover, by the way.”

“I agree,” he said. Cabrera turned and took a few steps before looking back with a smile that pushed up higher on one side. “A sleepover requires sleeping.”

Believe it or not, because I sure found it confusing, sharing the same hut with Cabrera proved not to be as bad as I thought. It was fun hearing more about his life growing up in Bogotá. Once he had mastered the piano, his mother had set her sights on dance lessons.

“That’s when I put my foot down.”

“Why? What’s wrong with dance?”

“It was ballet.”

“Oh.”

He said he and his mother argued for an entire week. It wasn’t until he promised to continue with piano that she relinquished the thought.

“And did you?”

“Yes. I actually liked playing the piano. I even thought of moving to New York one day to attend Julliard. If it hadn’t been for James Bond, I probably would have. The spy flick changed all that.”

“I suspect your mother wasn’t thrilled.”

“She got over it. She’s proud of me now and the work I’m doing to fight the drug cartels.”

“Do you miss the States?”

“You know, I think I do at times. I have thought of moving back.”

“What’s stopping you? Or shall I ask, what’s keeping you here?”

Cabrera chuckled. “I dunno. I guess there wasn’t a pressing issue to force my hand. I loved living in San Francisco, though.”

My ears perked up. “If you came back, would you live there?”