Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas by Jonathan W. Stokes Page B

would like to introduceyou to someone.” He gestured to Zubov, who sauntered forward.
    Addison already felt fairly well acquainted with the tall, pockmarked man. His slick black ponytail looked like a tenacious ferret clinging to the back of his head. Zubov glared at Addison. Try as he might, Addison could detect no hint of goodwill in that gaze.
    â€œHis name is Boris Rachivnek,” Ragar continued, “but in the Siberian prison, his nickname was Zubov. ‘Zubov’ means—how do you say?—‘
teeth
.’”
    Addison assumed this was meant to sound sinister. He raised his eyebrows appreciatively and nodded to Zubov. “Nice to meet you, Teeth.”
    Professor Ragar frowned at Addison and continued. “Zubov graduated from the highest level of the Russian special forces. He won medals in every form of combat. He is a world-class tracker, and deadly with a knife.”
    Addison nodded his head, duly impressed, though he wasn’t sure he liked where any of this was going.
    â€œZubov wasn’t seeing enough action in the military, so he turned mercenary, fighting in armed conflicts around the globe until he was imprisoned for arms trafficking. He has no hobbies, the poor creature. Violence is the only thing he finds interesting.”
    â€œWell, Teeth,” said Addison. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
    Zubov only stared at Addison, a single vein bulging angrily in his temple.
    â€œI am going to leave you alone with Zubov,” said Ragar. “But first, I am curious. Why did you come for the key? You could not possibly hope to find the Incan treasure.”
    â€œWe just want to get our aunt and uncle back,” said Molly.
    â€œYou came to Colombia to free your relatives and now you yourselves are captured. In Russia, we call that ‘
irony
.’”
    â€œWe call that ‘irony’ in English, too,” said Addison.
    Ragar frowned. “You are saying the word ‘irony’ is the same in English as it is in Russian?”
    â€œWhere are my aunt and uncle?” Molly demanded, getting things back on track.
    Ragar gestured to his black stretch limousine, parked in the shadows. Addison strained his eyes, but couldn’t see in through the tinted windows.
    â€œYour aunt and uncle have not been very helpful so far, but I possess the gift of persuasion.” Professor Ragar nodded to his guards, who stood at attention. “They are all deadly men like Zubov, who have survived the Siberian prisons.” Ragar leaned close to Addison, his scarred face ghostly white in the dark of the night. “I will keep your aunt and uncle alive as long as they help me solve theclues. But the second I don’t need them anymore, they will join your parents on the other side.”
    Addison stiffened, straining against the men who gripped his arms. “What do you know about my parents?”
    Ragar's laugh was a raspy, joyless wheeze like a car engine that won’t quite start. “Zubov, do what you like with these kids. I never want to see them again.” He gestured to his men, who released Addison.
    The professor stepped into his stretch limousine. For a brief moment, Addison caught a glimpse of his aunt and uncle, blindfolded and gagged, before Ragar slammed the limousine door shut. The bodyguards climbed into a caravan of black Jeeps that trailed the limo. The motorcade rumbled across the muddy square. The Jeeps turned the corner and disappeared into the labyrinth of Olvidados.

Chapter Ten

Zubov

    A DDISON TURNED TO FACE Z UBOV . “Addison Cooke,” he said, offering his business card. “Pleasure to meet you. I admire a man of talent.” Addison felt if he could get a conversation going, cooler minds might prevail.
    Zubov stared down at Addison with the speculative look of an underfed tiger.
    Molly looked up at the giant man. “How come they call you Teeth?”
    Zubov grinned, revealing teeth filed