So, you would think Jack and I would need some time to recover from the shooting at my apartment building, right? Unfortunately, the wonderful world of ISIS doesn’t see it that way. We receive instructions to go to Miami. Well, it may be a good idea to stay out of Clusine’s way for a little while, although Jack is not terribly keen on Miami. I don’t know, most people want to go places where they are wanted…
Anyway, we pack our bags and head to the airport. Clusine has sent a bon voyage team to wish us a good flight (or maybe they just wanted to make sure that Jack was leaving).
We arrive in Miami and make our way to Turnberry Isle, where a luxury suite has been reserved for us. There is an envelope waiting for us with reservations to the Gallagher Brothers’ club for dinner the next night. We spend the next two days sipping martikis pool side.
The day of the dinner, we meet up with (Up)Chuck and Paris, the agent not the city, at the hotel pool. Paris spent the day buying a suitable dress for dinner and (Up)Chuck looked up another cop friend he met here. We exchange knowing glances. Wait until I tell his gay Parisian detective admirer that he has competition! This mission seems okay so far!
My relief is short-lived, as always. At dinner, we are introduced to rich socialite, Ms. Patricia Singer, renowned archaeologist Dr. Raymond Temple, and archaeologist John you-can-call-me-Jake Manning. Paris and I exclaim Jake Jake, but he says no, it’s Just One Jake. Our briefing reveals that we are to go to Peru to help Ms. Singer, who is looking for adventure, and the archaeologists search for the remains of a mythical Incan city in the Peruvian jungle.
Let me get this straight: they want a team to go into a jungle filled with poisonous creatures, search for the remains of a city mentioned in a myth, obtain some artifacts and smuggle them out of Peru; and they are sending Arthur (Up)Chuck can-I-fit-in-between-the-thick-jungle-growth Drake, Paris, I-don’t-have-matching-shoes-for-my-jungle-get-up Mulhare, aka Carmen Sanchez, Jack the-jungle-growth-is-so-thick-if-I-shoot-I-will-surely-hit-something Payne, and me, and while the thought of bringing back a recipe for Andean Anaconda is enticing, I am fairly certain that I will not like traipsing through the jungle.
Why do we always end up in South America as a result of the wanderlust of American rich kids?
To top it all off, Ms. Patricia Singer, the aforementioned socialite, seems attracted to the exciting world of Jack Payne, international cabaret terrorist.
At least I can continue my search-for-Indian-artifacts cover with the museum, although the fact that Jack’s eyes are rolling back in his head every time he hears a certain gold artifact mentioned is alarming me.
We carefully stock up on needed supplies, (Up)Chuck and Jack are getting arms and other necessities, while Paris and I make sure we take lots of personal toiletries, chapstick, sun block, snakebite kits, malaria medications and the like. We go to the doctor to update our inoculations for malaria, yellow fever and hepatitis A. (Up)Chuck is less than pleased at the sight of the needles, but he bravely manages not to pass out during the injections.
Paris makes airline and hotel reservations for us and we fly to Lima the next day. Since Paris made the arrangements, we are scheduled to stay one night in Lima for a lovely dinner. During the meal, I am distracted by the sight of Patricia flirting outrageously with Jack. Eventually, it is more than I can bear and I fake choking on a piece of fruit so I can Heimlich it out onto Jack’s shirt. (Up)Chuck notices my pretended distress and assists me in the performance of the maneuver, fortunately he avoids breaking my ribs in the process. Anyway, the joint effort of our Heimlich maneuvers propels the fruit forward with much force and it splats all over Jack’s once clean shirt. (Up)Chuck asks if I want something to drink and I ask for a bottled beer. Not wanting to be unarmed, Jack asks for two. With the exception of (Up)Chuck, the perceptive, everyone at the table notices some tension between Jack and me, and they suggest going outside to leave us alone. Just One Jake takes Paris and Ms. Singer out, so Dr. Temple asks (Up)Chuck to get a drink with him. Again, we nod knowingly and (Up)Chuck launches into a homophobic spiel about the rumors concerning his sexuality.
They leave us alone. After a less than pleasant exchange of words, Jack asks if I want him to shoot Patricia, and then bemoans his lack of a gun. I offer to give him one. We discuss the merits of disposing of her body in the jungle.
While walking with Just One Jake, Paris realizes that his expedition experience is limited to traveling with television crews, port-a-potties and paid cooks. He is apparently clueless about the real hardships of an archaeological excursion.
After returning to the hotel, Jack feels less than safe staying alone in a room with me, and goes to crash with (Up)Chuck. (Up)Chuck thinks Jack is upset with me and asks him, "are you going to dump her?" Jack, still considering where to leave the remains of Ms. Singer exclaims, "you know about that????" (Up)Chuck threatens Jack with, "you’d better not hurt her," to which Jack replies, "don’t worry, she won’t feel a thing." Remember the ‘take her out/that didn’t mean to kill her’ fiasco from Arlington?
We fly to Cusco the next day. (Up)Chuck goes to pick up our possessions at the airport only to find Peruvian customs looking through the boxes of weapons and MREs that the boys had packed. Three hundred dollars later, we are astonished to see (Up)Chuck emerge followed by airport security, who are carrying our luggage out to the car for us.
We leave the airport and take a deep breath of mountain air. All except for Paris, that is. She is gasping ‘pear,’ and I think she has become afflicted by (Up)Chuck’s South American fruit obsession, but then again, maybe she was trying to say ‘air.’ Apparently, she is not acclimating well to the really #@#$# high altitude. We take her to the hotel to lie down.
(Up)Chuck, proud of his ability to adapt to his new environment so easily, goes out for a run. Just wait until he drinks the water…
Later, we wander around town. We notice that there is a group of small children who are following (Up)Chuck and whispering Viracoha. Jack takes out a bill to give to the children so they will explain it to us, however, in an act of thievery so fast and brazen that even Bob Diamond would have to smile, the bill is gone before Jack can open his mouth. (Hmmm, how to part Jack from his money - I’m taking notes…) Dr. Temple explains that the children think (Up)Chuck looks like Viracoha, the god of creation of Incan myths. Just what we needed. Now, (Up)Chuck thinks he is a god! Yeah right, while other gods may hail fire and brimstone down on helpless humans, what is (Up)Chuck going to do? Cover their unsuspecting cities in a blanket of vomit and gastro-intestinal acids while flexing and oiling? I think I’m going to be sick.
The next day, Paris calls and tells me it is time to go meet with our guide in order to pay him. Paris, Just One Jake, (Up)Chuck and I go to the home of Garrett Parker. (Up)Chuck’s insistence that he needs to check out Garrett’s history, the less-than rugged appearance of Paris and myself, Paris’ need for a bodyguard, and the obvious discord among our group lead Garrett to suspect that we may want a little more than just a trip to the well-known remains of Machu Picchu. He reminds us that the $2600 fee only covers hiking the ‘beaten path,’ anything extra will cost more. Then he introduces us to fellow guide Antonio Tomba and our esquarian guide – um, that must be Inca for equestrian.
(Up)Chuck’s mention of his difficulty at the airport and the presence of MREs in the provisions, have alarmed Garrett. Why do I think this is going to cost way more than $2600?
We return to the hotel. I am less than thrilled about the way this is shaping up. We have a suspicious guide that we have to trust to take us into the wild terrain of the Andes, Just One Jake has no idea how to really rough it on an archeological expedition, we really don’t know anything about Dr. Temple, (Up)Chuck has a god complex, Paris has no matching shoes, Ms. Singer has now turned her attention to the muscle bound (Up)Chuck, Jack may or may not try to kill Ms. Singer, and I have to avoid (Up)Chuck, who keeps trying to convince me that Jack is going to break up with me.
At least head-shrinking has been outlawed for many years.
Suddenly, getting grilled by Inspector Clusine about a battered bleeding body in my stairwell doesn’t seem so bad…