Keepers of the Lost City

24 Flush

Sam woke up with a start. He had not slept well at all since he returned to Scotland from the death defying expedition in Spain and Peru. However, that changed since he and his colleagues had unearthed so many tangible explanations to the puzzles they had been slaves to. Looking at the clock radio, Sam realized that he had slept a solid, uninterrupted seven hours. It made him smile and gave him some well-deserved zest, for once, to leap out of bed to get some work done.

He was not half as apprehensive about meeting with Miss Palumbo as Purdue was about the whole business, but he understood that he, too, had to maintain a certain wariness as to their agenda. They could very well have been staging the lawsuit, only to get Purdue out of his safe zone, but Sam hoped that this would not be the case.

By eight o’clock sharp, normally only three hours into Sam’s usual sleep routine, he pulled up in front of the Regiment Hostel where the Australians preferred to stay while in Edinburgh. Sam found it peculiar that people with such a high profile legal team, lodging a lawsuit of paramount proportions, would choose such modest lodgings.

The drizzle was evidently too much for Miss Palumbo, whom Sam could hear complaining from outside on the porch. The walkway was in the fashion of a hallway, but the external wall was omitted, much like a veranda.

“Bring me more of that Horlicks, please Ed,” Sam heard her beg, “or I will not survive this blasted cold one more hour.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Eddie Olden’s voice twanged in his lazy accent. “Nice to see a bit of rain for a change. God, I need some cooler weather. Spend too much time in the bush.”

Sam scoffed, trying to keep his childish double entendre hidden behind a professional façade. “Miss Palumbo, it’s Sam Cleave,” he called, along with two prominent knocks as if he had just arrived.

Suddenly, the conversation ceased and Sam could hear footsteps approach the door. Louisa Palumbo opened the door, looking tormented, but genuinely happy to see Sam.

“Mr. Cleave, what a pleasure to see you again,” she smiled, but Sam could see her chin quiver. He looked past her shoulder and noticed the cup of Horlicks next to a high back chair smothered in fleece blankets.

The rugged journalist stepped in closer to her, close enough to make the encounter a bit more personal. Louisa inhaled his scent — leather and musky cologne — and her eyes almost rolled back in the ecstasy of his charm. “May I offer you my coat, Miss Palumbo?” Sam asked, taking her aback. Stuttering, her eyes fluttered, but nothing coherent came from her full lips.

‘My God, she looks startlingly like Maria!’ he observed in his mind. ‘But she is so beautiful that I almost don’t hate her for it.’

He continued, to spare her the awkwardness. “It is a pure Scottish weave, made to make the wearer hot enough to resist the hostile elements of the North,” he winked.

Heaving, Miss Palumbo caught her breath in Sam’s piercing dark eyes. “Oh, I would not doubt that claim for a second,” she smiled, “that it makes the wearer hot.”

“Have you had breakfast yet, Mr. Cleave?” Eddie interrupted deliberately. “We were just about to order something from the kitchen here.”

“Yes, there is no way I am going to venture outside that door today,” Louisa affirmed while she delicately hopped back to her blankets. “I am sure you don’t mind doing the interview right here, do you, Mr. Cleave.”

“Of course not,” Sam agreed, releasing his sling bag from his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to eat from a hostel’s kitchen, though?”

“Oh, we are not a fussy lot, mate,” Eddie told Sam, sounding somewhat defensive. Louisa gave him a steely look of reprimand, wondering why he was so snappy with the world famous investigative journalist. After all, Sam Cleave was there to help them support their case with his irrefutable credibility. Once he compiled an expose against David Purdue, already deemed a reckless and greedy scoundrel by most of high society, there was no way anyone would doubt their case.

“Suit yourself,” Sam shrugged and whipped out a Marlboro. “Mind if I smoke?”

Her ‘no’ and Eddie’s ‘yes’ clashed, leaving Sam waiting with the raw fag between his lips. Once more, Louisa frowned at her colleague in confusion. “Mr. Cleave, will you excuse us for a moment, please?”

Sam nodded, and watched Louisa grab Eddie and push him into the small en suite bathroom of the otherwise vacant dormitory.

“What in God’s name are you doing, Eddie?” she hissed under her breath.

“What do you mean?” he asked innocently.

“Oh, come on, you are snapping at him like a bratty schoolgirl. What the hell is your problem?” she whined as quietly as she could.

“I am just trying to keep things level, love,” the amused Eddie sighed. “Had I not been in that room just then, you would have mounted him at the door.”

“Oh, fuck you, Eddie,” she whispered, weakly pushing him backwards. “It helps to cake the media people to get what we want. Of course, you wouldn’t know about that. All you care about is the goddamn rights and wrongs about this matter. Well, there is more to winning the cause than just threatening one of the world’s most powerful men!”

“We have a solid case, Louisa,” Eddie countered. “Look at those samples. It is a done deal!”

She grabbed Eddie by his collar and somewhere in her subconscious mind, she realized that Scotland was not so cold when one was seething with rage and frustration. “Nothing is a done deal with David fucking Purdue, mate! Do not underestimate his reach. We have nothing but a concern for a lost land of animals, while he has enough money and brains to overthrow most of the western civilization. Do you understand? We are practically up against a god here.”

“I just don’t like Cleave’s condescending way. Did you hear how he talks down about perfectly good food from the kitchen here?” Eddie ranted in a low voice. “Being Purdue’s mate must have caviar and champagne on every menu.”

“Excuse me, what?” she gasped.

“What?” Eddie asked, still pissed off.

“He knows Purdue?” she asked.

“You did not know?” Eddie panted, his mouth open at the surprise.

“No, I did not! Why do you think I would choose our opposition’s allies, you idiot? I picked Cleave because of his reputation and a relentless wolf who does not stop until he exposes everything,” she hissed furiously.

“I noticed that in the way you practically got on your knees for the bloke,” Eddie chuckled. “You sure wanted him to expose everything.”

“This is not funny, for Christ’s sake!” she growled loudly, and she did not care if Sam heard her. Louisa could not believe the turn of events. All her research had let her down. Somehow she did not realize that the award-winning journalist was a friend of David Purdue’s, undoing all her efforts in total. She was devastated. “Now we’re fucked. We’ll never get the scoop we wanted.”

“We can try Basil at CBG,” Eddie tried, but the feisty beauty was not having it.

“No, we don’t go for lesser species, Edward!” she contested. “We have to have Cleave behind the media report. Nobody else will have that credibility. Jesus, we’re fucked now!”

“Relax, Louisa, relax!” Eddie snapped. “This is not the end of the world just because you misjudged things, alright? Now, just think. Purdue is a reasonable man. If you keep charming Cleave he might put in a good word for us.”

“Pity?” she scowled. “You suggest we evoke pity because we have no ace up our sleeve anymore?”

“You were all about sweetening up the media people to sway them to our side a minute ago, love,” Eddie reminded her sternly. “Now you call it pity? Look, it don’t matter what we label it. If we don’t play nice with Cleave, Purdue will kick us in the balls and leave us in the Scottish drizzle, you make out? It is not about the money anymore. Don’t forget that we are fighting for the conservation of our wilderness, Louisa. You are losing sight…”

“I’m losing sight?” she retorted hastily, clenching her jaw. “We have already hired the most expensive attorney this side of Buckingham Palace to look genuine, and only Cleave would have sold the charade, get it?”

“I get it!” he bit back, but she was not done.

“I don’t think you do,” she said. “Without Purdue panicking and settling out of court, we will never be able to afford all this shit. On top of that, mate, we will not have taken down the man whose chemicals are causing the poison deaths in the first place!”

A knock at the bathroom door hushed them both instantly.

“Excuse me,” Sam Cleave’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door, “are you done? I’m afraid I’ve had too much coffee this morning and I need to use the head.”

The two Australians leered at one another, sobered by the snap of reality. With Sam at the door, they could no longer discuss the next plan of action, but they had to comply with his request, to save face. Opening the door, they found Sam smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Eddie smiled uncomfortably. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Sam smiled and closed the door behind him. He sat down on the lid of the toilet, and smiled. In his left hand was a small two-inch wire, much like an electrical cord. At both ends, it sported two flat circular pads, much like watch batteries. However, it was one of Purdue’s finest spy devices that operated much like a stethoscope when placed against any surface up to half a meter thick. The handsome, rugged journalist chuckled to himself as he flushed the toilet to make things believable. The sound reminiscent of the metaphor he was about to employ on the Australians.