Emerald Buddha

Chapter 7

Drake waited by the charter terminal as the Citation X he’d booked for Allie taxied toward him, its turbines whining as they wound down. His heart was palpitating at the thought of seeing her again, and he realized as he watched the plane coast to a stop that he was more excited by her arrival than on embarking on an adventure in the Laotian mountains.

The fuselage door opened and the stairs lowered, and then Allie was standing at the top, her hair blowing in the wind, one hand shading her eyes as her gaze swept the tarmac. Drake waved at her and she smiled. His heart skipped a beat and he remembered why he was so smitten — she was nothing short of incredible; or at least, she was to him.

She descended the steps and approached him, and he marveled at how she seemed to glide, her grace natural and unconscious. When she was near, he moved to her and enveloped her in his arms, his hug anything but platonic. He moved to kiss her and she returned it with unmistakable longing. His spirits soared; and then the moment was over and she was pulling away.

“How was the flight?” Drake asked.

“Nice. The massage was a little amateur, but the caviar and cocaine were top shelf.”

“Excellent. Glad to hear the foundation got its money’s worth.”

“Seriously, though, it was awesome. I could get used to that.”

The ground crewman arrived with a single travel bag and carried it to Drake’s FJ. Allie eyed the vehicle and smiled. “That is so you.”

“What do you mean, me? Maybe I have a Lambo at home or something.”

“Not hardly. No, this is exactly what I pictured you driving.”

“You know me too well.”

“I hear that happens if someone saves your life.”

They were silent for an uncomfortable moment, and Drake opened the cargo door. The crewman set her bag inside and Drake closed it and escorted her to the passenger side.

“Such a gentleman. You must be a hit with the locals,” she teased.

“I usually trick them into the back and then bind and gag them.”

“That’s right. We are in California, aren’t we? Isn’t that the national pastime around here?”

“When we’re not busy with our cults or our macrobiotic juicing.”

“Good to know.” She studied him. “You look good. Sunburned, but I suppose that goes with the territory.”

“I surf every morning.”

She smiled. “No clichés here, dude.”

“I like it. It’s… peaceful. Kind of spiritual.”

“Well, it definitely agrees with you.”

They strapped in, and Drake negotiated the roads to Pacific Coast Highway. Traffic was headed in the opposite direction as high-net-worth commuters made their way from Malibu to the city, and they were able to make decent time. Drake pointed out landmarks as he drove, and they arrived at his house within forty minutes. Allie’s response to the shabby exterior was only slightly better than Spencer’s, but she warmed up when she saw the ocean stretching to Catalina and the Channel Islands.

“This is gorgeous, Drake.”

“I like it. It’s not like I haven’t invited you out a million times,” he said, and immediately regretted how it sounded. “I mean, you’re always welcome. I’ve been dying to show it to you.”

“Wow. Almost makes you want to give up cows and cactus,” she said. “So you just run out to the surf there every day? How idyllic is that?”

“It’s pretty cool,” Drake said, setting her bag down by the dining table. Allie slid the door open and Drake moved to the gap. “Even with all the houses crammed together, it still feels kind of empty, you know? At least as long as you’re looking out to sea.”

“If I lived here, I’d never leave. I’d have food brought in.”

Kyra’s voice rang out from next door. “Drake? You there? Are you ready for that margarita?”

Allie’s pupils dilated and then shrank to pinpoints as Drake blushed. “Um, no, Kyra. I have company. Sorry.”

Drake began to close the door and Allie stopped him. She pushed past him and out onto his deck. Kyra was standing by a lounge chair, her hot pink thong bikini glowing against her copper skin.

“Oh. Hi,” she said. “I’m Kyra.”

Allie smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Nice to meet you. Allie.”

“Hi, Allie.” Kyra hesitated, out of words. “You guys are welcome to come by for a drink if you want.”

Allie shot Drake a dark look and then met Kyra’s with a grin. “Thanks, but it’s a little early for me. Maybe Drake would like to get a head start?”

“No, I’m good,” Drake stammered, flustered.

“Okay. Well, I’ll just be lying out here if you change your mind.” Kyra looked to Drake. “I missed you in the water today.”

“Airport run.”

“Right. Just holler if you want to come over.”

“Okay,” Allie said. “Wear sunscreen.”

Kyra became animated. “Oh, I totally always do. Sunburns look gross on camera.”

“Wouldn’t want that.”

Drake pulled the door shut and shrugged. “She’s sweet.”

“That’s one word. Succulent might be another. And here I was worried about you becoming a hermit.”

“Allie, it’s nothing like that.”

“Hey, it’s none of my business,” she said, walking to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and frowned. “Juice, a package of English muffins, and some butter? And enough soda to last a month. You ever eat real food?”

“Allie, she’s just the neighbor. That’s it.”

Allie mimicked Kyra’s surfer-girl tone. “Want to come over for a margarita and wrassle me?”

“She’s an actress. They’re dramatic.”

“I’m not even going to ask what kind of movies.”

“Her dad’s some mogul in the business. She’s harmless and bored out here all by herself.”

“A pair of strong arms sounds like it might do the trick.”

“Allie…”

“What time is the CIA goon going to be here?”

Drake looked at his watch, but was cut off before he could tell her by the sound of Spencer’s car revving into the driveway. Allie looked to the door. “What’s that?”

“Spencer, I presume. He likes to make an entrance.” Drake had told her about his joining them on their adventure on the ride from the airport.

She threw open the door just as Spencer killed the motor and stepped from the car. He grinned and she returned his smile as he moved to her. Their hug seemed to last longer than the one she’d given Drake, he thought, and then dismissed the unexpected hurt he felt. Just as she was imagining things with Kyra, so too was he spinning scenarios that weren’t accurate. Although it certainly looked more than brotherly to Drake.

Spencer held her at arm’s length and nodded. “Wealth and a life of leisure agree with you, young lady.”

“You don’t look too shabby yourself, Spencer. What’s with the pimpmobile?”

“I knew you’d love it. I built it on a VW chassis. A kit. I wanted a project. Idle hands and all.”

“Drake was telling me about your trials and tribulations.”

“Yeah, I dug that hole. Now I’m trying to climb out of it.”

“Kind of fun to have everyone back together, though, huh? Like the old days.”

Drake laughed, but to his ear it sounded false. “That was a whole three months ago.”

Spencer smiled. “Is that all? And here little Allie is all growed up.”

“It’s the hormones. And the chain smoking,” she quipped.

“You’re a rebel,” Spencer agreed, and looked at Drake. “Am I late?”

“Don’t you own a watch?” Drake asked.

“Nothing that I could wear to Thailand.”

“I think I’ve got an extra Casio,” Drake said. “The most popular watch with terrorists, the guy at the store said — the Casio F91-W. How could I resist a sales pitch like that?”

“As long as it tells the time, I’m easy.”

They settled in on Drake’s couch and chair and talked about old times. Eventually the discussion shifted to Allie.

“So what did you do with all your loot?” Spencer asked. Drake had warned Allie about Spencer’s loan request, so she was prepared for his overture.

“Oh, it’s all in a savings account.”

“What? Are you kidding me? What does it pay, like.0001 percent per year?” Spencer asked incredulously.

“Well, I don’t really have time to learn the ins and outs of investing right now, and I’ve got my hands full with my dad’s stuff, so I’ll just let it sit until I find something to do with it.”

“But you’re leaving so much on the table…”

Allie smiled sweetly. “Yeah, I’ve had dozens of wealth managers fly in and try to talk me into going with them, but I never got a good feeling from any of them. They like to talk down to you, like you’re an idiot or a child. Sort of that whole, ‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head over all that complicated stuff’ thing. I frigging hate that.”

Drake interrupted the discussion with the more pressing topic of the Emerald Buddha.

“As far as I can tell, it’s all hearsay. The Khmer king never retrieved the treasure, either because the territory was too dangerous to mount a campaign in, or because he did and they simply couldn’t find it. That’s if the story’s even true. For all we know, there is no treasure, and it’s all an invention that got bigger over time. It’s unclear where the truth lies.”

“Sort of like every lost treasure, right?” Allie said.

“There’s that. But one of the things that makes this particularly difficult is that the region was at constant war for so much of the following centuries. There are no records. It’s all oral traditions and speculation.”

“Too bad we don’t have a handy journal to follow,” Spencer quipped.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Come in. It’s open,” Drake called out.

Collins and a tall, serious-looking man in his late thirties entered, Collins carrying a briefcase, his companion empty-handed. Beneath his untucked blue striped dress shirt and jeans, the newcomer was clearly fit and athletic, his face all hard planes and sharp angles.

Collins introduced himself to Allie and Spencer and then held a hand out toward the other man. “This is Alex Banyon. He’ll be your field liaison, and will accompany you into the jungle.”

“Pleased to meet everyone,” Alex said, his tone as gruff and as no-nonsense as his profile. “Mind if I sit? I’ve heard all this before.”

“Sure,” Drake said, and rose to get a chair from the dining table. When they were seated, Collins cleared his throat and set his briefcase beside him.

“Let’s take the matter of the plane first. As I told you, Christine was on it when it went down.”

“How do you know?” Allie asked.

Collins didn’t blink. “We have our sources. She was flying from China to Thailand, and there were storms over Laos and Myanmar. Our working assumption is that the plane had to ditch due to a malfunction. Could have been due to weather. No way of knowing for sure until we find the wreckage.”

“What was she doing in China?” Spencer asked.

“Some kind of spiritual retreat, as far as we know. Yoga, meditation, that kind of thing.”

“Isn’t that usually something kids go to India to practice?” Allie asked.

Collins’ eyes drifted to Allie and then back to Spencer. “Maybe she saw too many reruns of Kung Fu. I honestly have no idea about her motivations. I’m going by what her father has told us.”

Spencer rubbed his hand along his chin. “How about the transponder?”

“For unknown reasons, it was turned off. Possibly because it didn’t want to be tracked. It’s fairly common with drug-running planes along that corridor.” He opened the briefcase and removed a manila folder. Alex took it, quickly scanned the contents, and passed it to Spencer.

“That’s the last snapshot from Thai radar. Laos doesn’t have much reach in that region and it didn’t show up on theirs, and Myanmar… Myanmar doesn’t talk to us,” Alex said.

Spencer put a satellite image on the coffee table and studied the red circle drawn on it. “That looks like it’s partially over Myanmar.”

“That’s part of the challenge. We’re working through a third party to get you permission to cross the border. To look for the temple, of course.”

“Of course,” Spencer said. “But how are we supposed to find a needle in that haystack? Says here that it was a Cessna 172. That’s barely more than a kite.”

“Why not use a drone?” Allie asked. “I see them all over the TV. Isn’t that more efficient than having us go in?”

“Good question. The problem with smaller drones is battery time. Even the military models only go so long, and an hour is the outside max for the little ones. Anything larger tips our hand — both Myanmar and Laos would smell government agency all over it. Finally, the drug cartels that operate in that area would try to shoot down anything suspicious. So it’s a bad idea all around.” Collins frowned. “As to how you’ll search for the plane, we’re arranging for a helicopter. You’ll perform a standard grid search at low altitude. It’s doing it the hard way, but I don’t see any other option.”

“Why don’t you zoom in with a super satellite? Like I’ve seen on the news?” Drake asked.

“Cloud cover, for starters. You can fly beneath it, but a satellite can’t. We’re of course doing exactly that anyway, but so far haven’t turned up anything,” Alex said.

They discussed the ins and outs of the plane search, and then turned to the temple.

“You mentioned you had intelligence for us,” Drake began. “Let’s see it.”

Collins nodded and withdrew another file. “First, you’ll all need to sign this security clearance. The file I’m about to show you is still classified.” He set three forms down on the tabletop and handed Alex a pen.

They read the documents and, after a couple of questions, signed. Collins collected the forms and then set the file on the coffee table. “That’s the transcript of an interrogation of a top Khmer Rouge commander who was operating in Cambodia and Laos. We captured him in 1970. The questioning goes on for hours. This is the relevant part.”

Spencer read the four pages and handed them to Allie, who did the same, wincing in spots. Drake read it last and, when he was finished, set the pages in front of him. “That’s it? A man who was being tortured spun some yarn about twin sisters guarding a hidden temple?”

“It’s a little more than that. He claims to have seen the spot.”

“Right, but it’s gibberish. Twin sisters? What is that, trees? Rock formations? Mountains? Boulders?”

“Our analysts have narrowed it down to three possible locations. We know from him that it was in the western section of Laos or the eastern part of Myanmar. One of the things we did with our satellites was to look for likely suspects.” Collins withdrew another satellite image from his case and laid it on top of the transcript. “The circles mark the three.”

They all leaned in to look. The possible sites were all within the area they were going to be searching for the plane. Alex took over from Collins.

“You can see there are a pair of distinctive karst formations that might fit the description, and a third that’s two conspicuously large boulder outcroppings — big enough that we believe they would have been plainly visible even six centuries ago. All three have valleys that match the legend, with streams, or in that case, a small river, running through them,” Alex said, tapping the photos.

“Why hasn’t anyone gone after the temple if you’ve known this for nearly fifty years?” Allie asked.

Collins smiled sadly. “The CIA isn’t in the treasure-hunting business, young lady. We leave that to private interests like yourself. We’ve got our hands full defending the free world and faking moon landings.”

The discussion went another hour, and when they were finished, Collins and Alex rose. Alex passed out airline tickets and told them to be at the airport by ten p.m. — the flight departed at one in the morning.

Drake eyed the ticket doubtfully. “Why don’t we take Spencer’s plane? He’s got a G5.”

“They’re working on one of the engines,” Spencer said. “Otherwise I’d be game.”

“Give Alex here a list of anything you’ll need, and he’ll source it for you in Thailand,” Collins said.

Allie wrote down some basic expedition requirements, and then passed it to Drake, who added a few items. Spencer read it slowly and then jotted down his own requests. When he was done, he handed it to Alex, who looked it over and stopped at Spencer’s notes. “That’s a lot of firepower,” he said.

“That’s drug-runner territory, right? You seriously expect us to go in with peashooters?” Spencer fired back.

“You could start a war with that.”

Collins sighed impatiently. “Whatever they want, we’ll arrange. Alex, we’re running late. We still have a lot to do before the flight.” He turned to Drake and Allie. “You have your passports? Everything’s current?”

“Of course,” Allie said.

Spencer nodded.

“Then I’ll see you at LAX. Ten sharp,” Alex said.

They watched the two CIA men leave, and Drake turned to Spencer. “What did you think?”

Spencer took a long breath and stood, rolling his head to work out a kink in his neck. “What I think is that Alex might be a problem in the field. He didn’t seem to want us to have guns, or at least not anything worth mentioning. Other than that, I think the odds of us finding either a plane or a green Buddha in that jungle are about as good as my becoming a lingerie model in Milan.”

Drake made a face. “I need eye bleach to erase that from my imagination.”

Allie laughed. “We just might surprise you, Mr. Negative.” She rose and eyed Spencer. “Now, are you going to invite me for a ride in that bumblebee you have sitting outside, or am I going to have to steal the keys?”

“Drake almost wrecked it yesterday. Man’s a menace on the road,” Spencer said.

“I did not,” Drake protested, but he was smiling.

“Then let’s race your FJ against my Lambo and get a decent meal, because once we’re over there, it’s all going to be monkey brains and bugs.”

“I am not dining on monkey brains. Or bugs,” Allie said with a frown of distaste.

“Don’t worry. They won’t tell you what you’re eating. But if you find a carapace in your soup, just smile. It’s considered rude to complain.”