Chase Baker and the Golden Condor: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series No. 2) by Vincent Zandri
Authors: Vincent Zandri
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speak.
Leslie gets up.
“Do you want to leave?” I repeat.
She wipes her face, takes a drink from her water bottle, and
exhales profoundly. “This might surprise you. But my vote is to keep going,
Chase. Rodney’s right. You came here to do a job. Let’s keep on doing it. My
guess is that Carlos would have wanted it that way. And besides, we have a book
to write.”
But this expedition is far more than simple research for a
new novel. This is about uncovering a relic that, if it’s real, will not only
turn history onto its back, it will prove once and for all that mankind has not
only been the beneficiary of help from ancient aliens, but that humankind is
indeed derived from ancient aliens. The enormity of locating the Golden Condor
is almost too great to contemplate since it will challenge our everyday notions
about God and religion, and it will force us to accept the fact that we are not
the isolated species we once thought ourselves to be, and therefore, not the
most important life in the universe.
There’s no question in my mind about the course of action we
must take. And that course is to keep on going no matter what or who stands in
our way. The chase for the Golden Condor is why I was put on God’s earth. And
something else too: if we weren’t close to finding it, the hostiles wouldn’t be
trying to kill us.
I pull myself up onto my feet. “Rodney, call Keogh, tell him
what’s happened. Let him know we’re proceeding as planned. We’re going to find
the Condor even if we die trying.”
“Consider it done,” Rodney says, pulling his cell phone out.
He walks on ahead of us, his phone pressed against his ear.
“I can’t stop shaking,” Leslie says, her eyes still locked
on Carlos.
I strip the deceased man of his wallet, passport, cash, and
cell phone, toss them to the side.
“Come on,” I say to Leslie. “Take hold of his feet while I
grab his hands.”
Working together, we shove the surprisingly heavy,
dead-weight body off the path and into a section of thick brush.
“The ground is filled with roots,” I say. “It’ll be
impossible to bury him here.”
“The insects will get him,” Leslie points out. “So will the
animals. In this heat he’ll rot away almost immediately.”
“Let’s at least cover him up.”
Pulling his sleeping bag from his pack, I drape it over his
body. We then cover the body with leaves and brush. For a brief moment, Leslie
and I stand over the mound that conceals Carlos’s body.
“Shouldn’t we say something?” she says. “You know, like a
prayer?”
I catch a quick glimpse of Rodney standing about thirty
paces up trail. He’s still on the phone. The expression on his face isn’t
exactly unhappy or anxious. I’m guessing a team member’s death doesn’t mean a
whole lot to the big man. At least, not in terms of the broader picture…the big
prize to be uncovered up inside a mountain.
“Rest in peace, Carlos,” I say, after a time. “Pleasure
sharing a cab ride with you.”
“Amen,” Leslie whispers.
“Amen,” I say.
Retrieving Carlos’s AR-15, I hand it to Leslie, who straps it
over her shoulder. I grab his passport and the rest of his personals and stuff
them into the pockets on my bush jacket. The last item to salvage is his video
camera.
“How would you like to do the honors now?” I say, holding
out the camera for her. “After all, media is your specialty.”
She grabs hold of the camera, fiddles with its buttons and
controls like she knows what she’s doing. And as a former Columbia film school
student, she does.
“Good. It will take my mind off Carlos,” she says. Then,
while shouldering the camera, “What about the guide who was behind us?”
“He’s gone,” I say. “My guess is he ran off at the first
sign of trouble.” But what I’m thinking on the inside is that he’s probably as
dead as Carlos.
“Wasn’t he carrying food?”
“We’ll have enough in
Leslie gets up.
“Do you want to leave?” I repeat.
She wipes her face, takes a drink from her water bottle, and
exhales profoundly. “This might surprise you. But my vote is to keep going,
Chase. Rodney’s right. You came here to do a job. Let’s keep on doing it. My
guess is that Carlos would have wanted it that way. And besides, we have a book
to write.”
But this expedition is far more than simple research for a
new novel. This is about uncovering a relic that, if it’s real, will not only
turn history onto its back, it will prove once and for all that mankind has not
only been the beneficiary of help from ancient aliens, but that humankind is
indeed derived from ancient aliens. The enormity of locating the Golden Condor
is almost too great to contemplate since it will challenge our everyday notions
about God and religion, and it will force us to accept the fact that we are not
the isolated species we once thought ourselves to be, and therefore, not the
most important life in the universe.
There’s no question in my mind about the course of action we
must take. And that course is to keep on going no matter what or who stands in
our way. The chase for the Golden Condor is why I was put on God’s earth. And
something else too: if we weren’t close to finding it, the hostiles wouldn’t be
trying to kill us.
I pull myself up onto my feet. “Rodney, call Keogh, tell him
what’s happened. Let him know we’re proceeding as planned. We’re going to find
the Condor even if we die trying.”
“Consider it done,” Rodney says, pulling his cell phone out.
He walks on ahead of us, his phone pressed against his ear.
“I can’t stop shaking,” Leslie says, her eyes still locked
on Carlos.
I strip the deceased man of his wallet, passport, cash, and
cell phone, toss them to the side.
“Come on,” I say to Leslie. “Take hold of his feet while I
grab his hands.”
Working together, we shove the surprisingly heavy,
dead-weight body off the path and into a section of thick brush.
“The ground is filled with roots,” I say. “It’ll be
impossible to bury him here.”
“The insects will get him,” Leslie points out. “So will the
animals. In this heat he’ll rot away almost immediately.”
“Let’s at least cover him up.”
Pulling his sleeping bag from his pack, I drape it over his
body. We then cover the body with leaves and brush. For a brief moment, Leslie
and I stand over the mound that conceals Carlos’s body.
“Shouldn’t we say something?” she says. “You know, like a
prayer?”
I catch a quick glimpse of Rodney standing about thirty
paces up trail. He’s still on the phone. The expression on his face isn’t
exactly unhappy or anxious. I’m guessing a team member’s death doesn’t mean a
whole lot to the big man. At least, not in terms of the broader picture…the big
prize to be uncovered up inside a mountain.
“Rest in peace, Carlos,” I say, after a time. “Pleasure
sharing a cab ride with you.”
“Amen,” Leslie whispers.
“Amen,” I say.
Retrieving Carlos’s AR-15, I hand it to Leslie, who straps it
over her shoulder. I grab his passport and the rest of his personals and stuff
them into the pockets on my bush jacket. The last item to salvage is his video
camera.
“How would you like to do the honors now?” I say, holding
out the camera for her. “After all, media is your specialty.”
She grabs hold of the camera, fiddles with its buttons and
controls like she knows what she’s doing. And as a former Columbia film school
student, she does.
“Good. It will take my mind off Carlos,” she says. Then,
while shouldering the camera, “What about the guide who was behind us?”
“He’s gone,” I say. “My guess is he ran off at the first
sign of trouble.” But what I’m thinking on the inside is that he’s probably as
dead as Carlos.
“Wasn’t he carrying food?”
“We’ll have enough in
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