Ramsey's Gold

Chapter Forty-Five

The award ceremony went by in a blur: countless dignitaries shaking hands, kissing cheeks, bowing and scraping and patting Drake’s back like he was a new father. As he sat at the head of the long table in the position of honor, trying to remember which fork to use while avoiding spilling wine all over his tuxedo, he was struck by a sense of dissociation, like he was sitting apart from himself, watching someone who looked like him going through the motions, smiling and nodding at the right points. The sensation heightened as the dinner progressed, and he wondered whether he was having a seizure of some sort, brought on by the blow to his head. Then he seemed to get sucked back into his body, and he was looking out through his own eyes again as the Secretary of State’s charming wife recounted a practiced story with just the appropriate amount of irony.

He took another sip of wine and considered the gathered faces, some jaded, others bloated with privilege and the ennui of the powerful, still others hungry with avarice or envy, all eyes on him like a sacrificial lamb. His gaze drifted to Allie sitting a few seats down the table across from him, looking radiant in a white sequined dress with a high collar, its contours hugging her curves with every move. Flashes of light sparkled from the massive chandeliers as a string quartet played Mozart with Latin zest, and he was struck by how silly his fellow humans were, how enamored with trappings of power and wealth, and how little of it actually mattered. He resisted a powerful urge to bolt from the hall, and instead chuckled at the right moment, the woman’s diverting tale at an end.

“I hear that you’re going to start a charitable foundation,” the Secretary of State said after a bite of salmon poached in a champagne sauce.

“Yes. I’m having a great deal of the Peruvian government’s generosity donated to create an organization in my father’s memory. It was he that did the research that enabled me to find Paititi, and he would have wanted the money to go to furthering similar pursuits, I’m sure.”

Polite applause greeted his statement, and Drake despised them all for a moment before choking down his volatile emotions. This was a necessary part of being a hero, Spencer had said, whether he liked it or not. The only thing he had to do was get through the evening without vomiting on the white tablecloth, and he’d be remembered as a hit: young, handsome, gracious, sunburned, and appropriately rakish — the perfect embodiment of the successful adventurer.

The only problem was that it felt like a lie. All he’d done was stumble around in the jungle following his father’s clues. He didn’t deserve any of it.

He offered a wan smile to the beautiful starlet the organizers had seated next to him and took another gulp of wine. Drake might have felt like an empty suit, but if he looked at this public appearance as a job, part of an act, he could get through it. He wouldn’t embarrass himself and tarnish his father’s name.

Spencer caught his eye from his position halfway down the table and grinned a warning. He’d spent enough time with Drake to know he was in trouble. As the entrée was removed to make way for dessert, Spencer excused himself and approached Drake. He bowed deferentially to the gathering and addressed them like trusted conspirators.

“I’m sorry. Would you excuse us for a moment? I need to ask Ramsey here for some investment tips.”

Everyone laughed, the wine having flowed like water, and Spencer led Drake out onto a balcony overlooking the twinkling city lights.

Spencer leaned close to Drake. “Are you all right? You looked like you were about to yack on the hottie they set you up with.”

They were interrupted by a servant carrying a humidor filled with Cuban cigars. Drake shook his head. Spencer took one and, after a slight hesitation, took a second, and slipped them both into the breast pocket of his tuxedo.

“I can’t wait for this to be over,” Drake said.

“Yeah, well, it shouldn’t be much longer now. Just don’t stab anyone with the silverware and you’ll be okay.”

“I know. But I’m having a lousy time.”

“Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous.”

“So far it sucks.”

“Yeah, but the hours are good, and the food’s not bad.”

“I want to get out of here.”

“You’re the guest of honor, Drake. You don’t get to disappear.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

“What’s up? We talked about this. You just need to smile. They don’t even care if you pick your nose. You’re a rock star. A blinding supernova. You can do no wrong.”

“It just feels…wrong.”

Spencer nodded. “Maybe so. Tomorrow it will be over. You can get on a plane and go anywhere in the world. You’re set. So man up, grin and bear it, or I swear I’ll personally bring a scorpion to your room and have it bite you on the ass.”

“I’m pretty sure scorpions sting.”

“Whatever.”

“All right. Hell, if I can brave the Amazon, the least I can do is tackle a few geriatrics in monkey suits.”

Spencer slapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

Spencer turned to rejoin the dinner, and Drake stopped him.

“Thanks, Spencer. For everything. I couldn’t have gotten through any of this without your help.”

Spencer paused. “Bullshit. You nailed it every time. If you’re beating yourself up because you think you didn’t do your part, that’s idiocy. You found Paititi, Drake. Not me. Not Jack, not your dad, and not even Allie. You did. You located the treasure. You tracked down the ore. I just held your gun for you.” Spencer looked off at the city and then fixed Drake with a hard stare. “You’re frigging Drake Ramsey, you found Paititi, you’re world famous, and Goddamn it, you deserve every bit of it, and more. So suck it up and deal with it.”

They stood facing each other like gladiators, breathing heavily, the music drifting from the ballroom like tendrils of curling smoke.

Drake nodded and smiled. “I have issues.” Spencer pulled one of the cigars from his pocket and sniffed it appreciatively.

“Welcome to the human race, dude.”