Pulling One's Leg

It isn't until we are wheels up in the G-4 that I call Lou's bluff on this whole thing.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Lou looks at me with bloodshot eyes.
He has sobered up a bit. He must have put down two fifths of Scotch and a couple of those Cohiba blunts out there on the ship. He was so fucked up that he was starting to believe himself.
"Again I ask you... what the fuck are you talking about."

Now Chris and Jerry are both tuned in to our conversation. I look at Jer, who should know what I am talking about.
"Jerry, where's Naomi?"
"Back home." He looks at Lou and then me, "I knew this was some kind of running joke with you two, but for the life of me I can't figure out the punchline."

I look at Lou who seems incredulous. His eyes get wide for a moment, then he shakes his head.
"Jesus, what a buzz." He rubs his face with two lethal hands.

Chris looks at each of us for a moment. "So, what are we doing?"
"Looks like you are flying us up to the Sea of Cortez." Jerry tells him.
"For what, a joy ride?"
"Not so fast, Aunti Nellie." Lou scoots to the end of his overstuffed seat.
"You need six people for this mind-fucking salad bowl trick, don't you?"

Antonelli is silent for a moment, and there is a look coming across his face that might just scare the shit out of you if you were trapped in an alley with him.

"Easy, big boy." Lou smiles, trying to diffuse him. "You said you need six people." He looks at me and Jerry, then sizes up Chris. "I only see four people. The other two should be up at Rocky Point. If we are lucky they may still be there."

"Those two guys at the hotel?" Chris knows who we are talking about.
"Them's the ones." Lou tells him as he stretches long and hard, squeeking back into the leather seat.

"What salad bowl trick?" Jerry asks. In all of this we have left Jerry in the dark. We fill him in on what we know, prodding Chris to give as much detail as possible. He reluctantly complies. It is hard to get a team together when the half that matters won't play unless they get to pick the rest of the team.

"So what's the big deal? In a month you want to try this thing... I'm in." Jerry smiles and cracks open a bottle of Fiji water.
Chris smiles, "Yeah, I guess so... it really isn't such a big deal. I just need people I can trust."
Jerry keeps smiling at him, not missing a beat. "Well... so we have two more people to invite then."

In the G-4 the trip is only a couple of hours. We have to fly into Puerto Penasco, and even then the runway is too short. The captain stands on those brakes and we use every inch of asphalt. Lou wakes up from his most recent nap and takes a stretch.
"Wow... that was quick."
"No shit. What about a ride?" I look out the window at the desert.
Chris picks up a courtesy phone and calls the cockpit. After a short conversation he hangs up.
"There's a hired car going to meet us at the terminal."
"A hired car?"
"Yeah, that way you get a driver that knows the area and you don't have to share him with anyone."
"He knows what a hired care is, Nellie." Lou tells him, feeling in his pockets for something.

As we taxi up to the small terminal building, Lou starts looking in the compartments around his seat.
"What are you looking for?" Chris asks him.
"You got any more of those blunts?"

We load into the old Chevy Caprice and we are off to the beach. Nice weather here... hotter than shit but a sea breeze that keeps it at bay. The inside of this cab smells like a Turkish prison, so when Lou sparks up the Cohiba he found on the plane I am thankful. Better to smell like a Cuban bus station.

The cab driver says nothing when I try to engage him in a little small talk. He won't even look at me in the mirror. Where is a good place to get a cold beer? Where is a good place to eat? Which of his sisters can I take back to my room and fuck? Ah... now I get a look and he starts over to the side of the road.
"Easy compadre, I'm just wanted to see if you were listening."

Lou chokes on his cigar and pokes me in the ribs.
"Hey... easy, guys. You can't talk about a guy's sister like that." Chris tries to put a stop to it.

"Geez, Antonelli, if you're gonna hang out with us you better man up." Lou shakes his head. "And what the hell is this?" He holds the cigar out for his own inspection.
"It's just a cigar, Lou."
"Not one of those special ones, huh?"
"Just a cigar."
"Good though."

It is about fifteen minutes or so before we roll up on a familiar sight. The marina is at full stride; fishing charters on the docks getting pictures of their catch, commercial fishing boats loading up with diesel, tourists at the rental dock looking for a boat for the day.

On the beach, several spots down from where we had seen her that first time, is Andy's rig. We have our driver stop and the four of us get out. The breeze blows through our clothing and it feels wonderful.

"You suppose they're in there?" Chris asks, shading his eyes with his right hand.
The rig looks like it is buttoned up tight.

While the boys go over and give a knock, I head over to the marina office. Maybe Garcia knows where they have gone. We may just well have missed them altogether.

"Senior," Garcia covers the receiver on the old phone and acknowledges me. He rattles something off and then hangs up.
"You here to give friends ride to airport?" It comes out with a thick accent that has me hanging on every word. I don't respond, which causes more explanation.
"They call two hours for taxi cab. But he no come." He points to the small lounge, which is two plastic chairs and a broken coffee machine.
Inside I see Andy with his hands on his hips, buttoned up as usual, and even though he is facing the window I know there is a tisk emitting every thirty seconds or so. There are three suitcases at his feet and no sign of Mike.

"Here ya go, Mr. Garcia... Orange Crush. That one there is a cold one, I tell ya." Mike sets a wet soda can on the counter and Garcia thanks him. Before he can be made aware of my presence, he excuses himself as he passes me.
"Ooops, excuse me, fella... cold sodas. He brushes passed me, moving the two remaining cans from hand to hand, wiping the free hand on his shorts.
"That guy wasn't kiddin'... here ya go, Andy." He enters the lounge and holds out a can of Mr. Pibb. When Andy turns to take it he sees me and just stands there for a second.
"What... you don't like that Pibb now?" Mike hands the other can our toward him, "Canada Dry Ginger Ale?"

"Well I'll be damned." Andy smiles. It occurs to me that I don't think I have ever seen him smile.
Mike stops and turns, ginger ale can still in his extended hand.
"I'm good, Mike."
"Hey now, what the heck are you doing here?" Mike sets the cans on the luggage and gives my hand a hardy shake. Andy follows suit.

"We missed your cooking."
"We? You got a mouse in your pocket?"
"Me, Lou, Chris Antonelli, and my good buddy Jerry." I usher them outside and we see the boys on their way over from the rig.

"You leaving town?" I gesture back at the bags in the lounge through the window.
"Can't spend our entire lives out here." Andy says matter-of-factly. "Got a honey-do list six pages long back home."

Mike gives Lou a wave as he walks up and then its handshakes and back slapping all around. Lou gives Andy a bear hug that just might have popped his top button. Andy smiles back at the familiarity. I don't think he sees too much of that anywhere but here. His guard drops a little and he smiles a little more.

"It is nice to see you boys." Mike is ecstatic. He shakes Chris' hand and then turns to Jerry. "And who is this fine fella?"
I make the introductions. Mike has heard me talk of Jerry around the campfire, but hasn't laid eyes on him.

I talk to Chris for a second, then huddle with Lou and Jerry. We all turn to Andy and Mike, the unaswered question of our arrival still on their lips.
"We have a proposition for you two."

Up in the Air

We are still on the rail overlooking the stern of the ship when Jerry walks up.
"You guys just wake up too?"
I look at Lou, then Chris... who shakes his head slightly. Apparently he doesn't want Jerry in on this. But Jerry is my friend and I trust him with my life.

"No... we were in on a private briefing while you were sleeping."
Chris exhales loudly and turns to the rail again, resting his elbows on the polished teak.
"Chris here has a little secret that he doesn't want to share with you." Lou tells him. Lou and Jerry go back far enough that I know Lou won't even do this thing if Jerry isn't included.

Jerry looks at Chris' back for a moment or two, then in true Jerry style he lets it evaporate into the tropic air and changes the subject.
"Now I know you must have a hell of a bar and a dynamite breakfast buffet on this cruise ship."

Chris turns and can't seem to hide the apologetic look in his eyes. After all, Jerry was there for the pirate wars, and saved his ass from those little brown bastards in the jungle.
"My mother, she knows that I only gave the diamonds to these two monkeys. She doesn't know the part you have played in all of this."

Jerry smiles and slaps him on the back, "Hey... Antonelli, no sweat off my sack. Let's eat."

I shake my head and we follow Chris and Jerry back toward the aft salon where brunch is being assembled.
The ship is moving along at a snappy pace. What I thought was just a short cocktail cruise has an obvious destination in mind and the captain is in a hurry to get there.

We dine with Angelica and a couple of Mrs. Antonelli's entourage. We see an endless pour of Coral Mimosa, a twist on the classic using guava juice. Not my regular drink, but I pounded them down to the tune of about six before my omelette was done.
Talk is light and there is no mention of the artifact. It is all so top secret. I really don't know what the fuss is about. The only way I know of that these primative tribes could "soul travel" is with a shitload of peyote or some really pungent weed.

Jerry doesn't seemed too concerned about the secret he hasn't heard yet. I say yet because as soon as we are out of here he is going to hear all about it.
"So what is the plan, boys?"

Chris looks at the two of us from the other side of the table. The corner of Lou's mouth ticks. He turns to Jerry.
"I say we blow this rowboat and head up to the Sea of Cortez and get Naomi." He tosses down the double scotch that one of the bar servers just brought him. "Think Abigail is up for the trip?"

Before Jerry can answer Chris overrides him.
"I thought we were taking the G4 up there? No?"

Lou smiles, the scotch slapping the asses of the naked girls in his head. "You did, huh?"
Chris is at a loss for words. I rescue him.

"If we want to make good time up there and have some time to play, we should take the fastest form of conveyance."
"P.P.P.p.P.... " Lou mocks me.
"You're getting a little loosely wrapped, Louis."
He flips me off.
I turn to Jerry, "Want to take a ride on a G4 with us?" I look at Chris and offer no quarter. If he wants us along on this adventure then Jerry is going if he wants.

I really don't think Chris cares if Jerry knows or not. I think he is being guarded because Angelica is dining with us.

"Yeah, Jerry, come along. It'll be fun. We'll be up and back in no time. You can leave Abigail here in Puerto Barrios for a while, can't you?"

"Youshure sound like anass kisser allofasudden." Lou must have been shooting those doubles like pheasant on opening day because I have not seen him this drunk when I haven't been. Hmmm, might be on the way myself.

We scoop up Lou and move up to one of the upper decks to smoke a cigar. Lou passes out in his lounger and me, Jerry, and Chris spark up some coal black cigar that tastes a little illegal.

"What is this?" I hold the cigar up and try to read the band, but it isn't in english.
"It is something my father had some guys working on. It is a hybrid of the finest tobacco and some kind of cannabis. It all grows together. Isn't even illegal until the Food and Drug Administration identifies it in the next few years."

"Like a really nice blunt."

"No shit."

We spend the next half an hour watching the horizon. Chris fills us in on Ollie, his condition worsened and they have to keep him a little longer. Chris will have him flown out the ship for his recovery. I don't think that Ollie will ever want for anything again as long as he lives.

Within the hour the ship decreases speed and a mast appears on the horizon. As we close on its position a familiar craft materializes beneath it. It is the Morgan and Blanco is at the helm. Sails are down. There is an auxiliary manuevering thruster hanging off the back. I can only assume it is there to keep the boat in position. There is no anchoring out here.

Our captain slows the ship and we hold position alongside the Morgan. The four of us make our way down to the fantail as the deck crew tie the boat to the Caribbear's cleats. Once Blanco sees us he smiles wide. Lou climbs aboard first.
"Hey Whitey! How are you man?"

That is the last thing I understand for several minutes, both Lou and Blanco talking in mother tongue. As Blanco talks to Lou he shakes hands with the rest of us. He is extremely happy to see us and is ready to abandon his post for a couple of cold ones onboard Caribbear.

We don't notice the divers in the water, or the two members of "the team" until the robotic submersible comes up. One of the men emerges from the cabin and heads forward. He lays down on the deck and reaches over the side. By this time his associate is next to him with what looks like a canvas sail bag. The item is brought up over the side of the Morgan and stashed inside the bag before we can even see what it is.

Lou gives Whitey preferred boarding and we follow them onto the aft deck of the Caribbear. I turn and watch the team as they hustle off of the boat and bring their treasure in through the doors of the aft salon and then they disappear down the passageway that will take them down into the bowels of the ship.

I look at Chris, and without a word shared between us I know that that is the Clarok that they brought up from the bottom. A sense of nostalgia sweeps over me as I realize that we are directly over the KOZANOSTRA. I have been in this particular stretch of sea before. I reach up to the scar on my ear. I look at Lou and Jerry, both shot to hell in that battle.

We end up in the upper lounge. There is a long bar made from the wood of a sunken ship, "Adventure", we are told. The ship had been taken by the Queen Anne's Revenge and made part of Blackbeard's flotilla. The ship was thought to have sunk off of North Carolina, but this wreckage was found on a small Key much farther south.

Once Blackbeard was captured, the remaining ships of the flotilla tried to outrun justice. The "Adventure" went down in the Bahama Keys, the crew getting her close enough to shore to make their escape to the deserted island.
While they awaited rescue, ten months away, they salvaged what they could from the ship, included what ever building materials they could pry from her decks. This bar had originally been fashioned into a long table for the survivors to eat their meagor rations. Out of the ten who survived the sinking, only three survived the island. Six of the men had carved their names into the wood at one time or another. Those names are nothing but a dark blur beneath one inch of clear resin. But the story was cool enough.

A young lady behind the bar begins to serve us. Lou is drawn to her like a scotch stunned moth to a red haired flame. He and Blanco sip scotch and smoke cigars. Not a word is spoken by any of us for nearly ten minutes. We are tired and overloaded. I mean, I am all for helping out a friend, but I am feeling a bit used at this point. All of us have fought a long, hard battle and now we just want to get back to the slow and easy days of running drugs and guns in Abigail, dozing in the hammocks, eating marinated pork from the village store. The thought of this never-ending adventure turning yet another page is too much.

"So... Rocky Point?" Jerry tosses back a shot of Corazon tequila and smiles.
"Pretty good for commercial stuff."

Chris perks up at the mention of this whole thing moving forward.
"Yep, Rocky Point. We are going to take my jet up there and then fly back in Naomi."

"Nosso fassed, Auntie Nellie." Lou slurs into his empty tumbler of single malt. "We haven't said we're gonna do this thing."

"What, go to get Naomi?" Jerry is a bit confused.
"No, goddamnit, go "Soul Traveling" with Nellie's salad bowl." Lou looks at him matter of factly.

"Great." Chris shakes his head slowly.

Jerry smiles at Lou, "You are fucked up with a capitol fuck, you know that?"
Lou nods and lets out a flammable belch. The little red head behind the bar giggles.
She pours more tequila for Jerry, and another two three fingers of scotch for Blanco.

"I'm game for a flight on that speed demon jet of yours." Jerry raises his newly filled shot in a quick toast and tosses it back.

"Great." Chris picks up a white phone at the end of the bar and calls the bridge. After a brief conversation he hangs up. "Captain says we should be back in the bay within the hour." He looks at Blanco, "We have your Morgan in tow."

"Is okay, Mr. Nellie." It comes out in that thick accent and then he cracks up. Lou spits his scotch onto the bar.

So... off to the Sea of Cortez and Rocky Point. This is fine with me. As for the rest of this "plan" I am up in the air. Even though it sounds incredible and outlandish, I can't help but wonder if there is something to it. One thing for sure... we are tired and thirty days is not much of a rest.

The Artifact

Well... probably not an Amway pitch I think to myself. I must be tired. Lou, who had been irritated and on edge is now relaxed and open. Must have been those drinks that Chris gave us.

You can really feel the hum of the engines from here. If the purpose of this room is to guarantee absolute secrecy then the sound of the engines would be helpful to that end.

Angelica pulls several black and white photographs out of a folder in her briefcase and places them in front of me and Lou. They are underwater photos of what looks like a large salad bowl, crusted over with sea-life as though it has been in the dining room of the Titanic for the past ninety-six years.

“Do either of you know what this is?”
Oh… great, a test.
We both shake our heads. I suppose calling it a salad bowl is out of the question.

Mrs. Antonelli straightens up in her seat as though to signal us of the importance of the coming explanation.
“That is a Clarok. It is a ceremonial vessel used by the Mayans fifteen hundred years ago.”
She pauses for a moment to allow us to examine the photographs. There is really nothing to see. There is nothing to compare it to for size. The Clarok is half buried in what must be the bottom of some ocean. There seem to be handholds all around the top of it. So it is either very large indeed and requires many hands to carry it, or those handholds serve another purpose.

“What are we looking at here?” Lou says, drawing one of the photographs closer. “How big is this thing?”

"According to the glyphs our team have found at the site, the Clarok is approximately three feet in diameter." Angelica sets another photograph on the table, this one in full color. It is of a temple that is emerging from a thick jungle, overgrown and in control.

"This is the temple site." Mrs. Antonelli motions to the photograph. "My husband was involved in a recovery effort for this item. The secret of the glyph was revealed to us by a disenfranchised research scientist. He sold my husband the secrets and made the connection to this artifact. This man's name was Arturo Montoya."

I look at Lou and he and at me. Arturo Montoya, aka Arnold Menton, the man that owned the yacht we dove on. His part in this whole episode is now taking on a new dimension.

"He was an expert in many things; Mayan civilization, UFO phenomena, and the Bermuda Triangle. It is with his knowledge of the latter that he made the connection with a part of the glyph at the temple."

Well, I can tell right now that I should be taking notes... but I don't. I am hoping that between me and Lou we will remember what is coming next.

"In 1917, between March 6th & 27, the freighter Timandra was under sail, bound for Buenos Aires from Norfolk with a cargo of coal. On board as well was the Clarok, sold at auction to a collector in Argentina. In those days that was the fastest way to deliver the item to South America. But the Clarok never made it into the hands of this collector. The ship, twenty-one crew members, and the ships captain, Richard Lee and his wife, who had decided to accompany him to Argentina, were never heard from again."

She pauses and a suffocating silence displaces everything in the room.

"The Timandra went down in the Bermuda Triangle. There was no official record of wireless traffic or sightings, but a "pirate" vessel... German raiders on the ship Seeadler witnessed the what they thought to be a sailing vessel just as the the ocean claimed her."

Wow, this just gets better and better.

On cue, Angelica pulls out several copies of age old transcripts... written in German, pages from private diaries of witnesses on board the Seeadler.
"The only ship of that size in that particular area had to be the Timandra." Angelica adds, "and these entries, coupled with the ships logs of the Seeadler gave us an approximate position."

Chris, who has been silent until now, joins their side of the table.
"Boys, that is why my father had the KOZANOSTRA in the Caribbean. He had already recovered the Clarok and was working on the other pieces of the puzzle."

"The diamonds?" I ask.

He nods. "Didn't know it at the time. I just thought it was another one of my dad's "deals" he was constantly making."
His mother nods.
"Yes, the diamonds were more than just a pay-off. They all looked similar, but only a few were absolutely perfect. We found Montoya's journals in a storage locker in Puerto Barrios and found that we only needed three for the artifact."

My hand goes up to the Antonelli family crest hanging on the chain around my neck.
Chris smiles, "Yeah, Jake, safest place. I didn't know the real story about the rocks until I was already in Vegas. I figured I would take the finest of the lot and leave them with the people I trusted most. Even though we offed Justin didn't mean that he didn't have more associates trying to get them back."

I feel a sense of pride at that statement, and a sense of loss at this latest development.
"Can we have them back when you are through with them?" Lou asks, the feeling mutual.
"When we are done with them, Lou." Chris takes his from around his neck and we follow suit. "This is something I cannot trust with just anyone."

We are in the special room for close to an hour listening to this tale unfold. It is just too hard to believe.
This Clarok thing, it was used by the Mayan priests to "soul travel". Something to do with the sun at a certain time of year, and the gold that Chris was after in the Amazon. The diamonds are supposed to diffuse the sun's energy into the Clarok. The unique gold of the Yanomami from that particular site has properties that when melted and poured into place on the Clarok create a resonant vibration of sorts when the Clarok is struck. Apparently the gold and diamond inlays in the Clarok originally had been removed by treasure hunters before it surfaced for auction.

There is just too much to digest, and I am not quite sure what it has to do with us past this point.

"Gentlemen... " Mrs. Antonelli stands, "We have located the wreckage of my husband's ship and recovery efforts will begin within the week to recover the Clarok. That gives us approximately one month before we test the artifact."

With a quick nod to Angelica the security door opens and they both exit the room, the door closing behind them.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Lou is back to his irritated self.
"Yeah, Chris... why the history lesson?"

Chris holds the three medallions in his hand, looking at them.
"She wants us to use the Clarok."
"Use the Clarok? For what, a dinner party?" Lou stands and paces. He tries the door and it won't budge.
"Open this fucking door, Chris." All of a sudden Lou looks like a trapped animal, not a good side of him.

"Wait, guys. Just hold on. This is important." Antonelli stands and walks over to the door. He puts a hand on Lou's shoulder. "My father wanted you two to be in on this. He trusted you guys. It was the last thing we talked about before those pirates boarded our boat."

That stops Lou's pacing. Now just a steely gaze that is as hard to look at as the sun. "You better not be bullshitting us."
"Nope... no bullshit."

Before the door opens, Chris tells us that the team wants to have the artifact ready to "test" within thirty days. We leave the room in silence and don't speak again until we are on the aft deck of the ship with a cold Negro Modelo in our hands.

"What do you think?" I ask Lou, who looks as though this whole thing is a huge inconvenience.
"I think we need to go and get Naomi and leave all this shit to the scientists."

Chris opens his second beer. "There are no scientists, Lou. Just Montoya's notes and the recovery team. They don't know what the artifact is supposed to do, just that they are being paid big bucks to retrieve it from KOZANOSZTRA and restore it to its prime."

"And the team? Why don't they test this... artifact?"
"The team she is referring to is the recovery team. Once they give us the Clarok and we inlay the diamonds and the gold that I removed from the chamber, it's all on us. It's all in the material we recovered from Montoya's stuff... you'll see."

It doesn't seem like we are ever going to get back to El Corazon. Lou is insistant that we get Naomi before we do anything else. I agree with him. That little plane was a gift from Bear. It is as important as this "artifact" business. Chris asks if he can go along. He will supply the transportation to the Sea of Cortez and Rocky Point. Along the way he better let us in on everything. There sure as shit is more to tell, so he better lay it all out on the line or we won't be coming back with him.