Inca Land

By Tim Tingle

Travis Lee begins his new career, as an insurance investigator, by doing a job in Venezuela, and then takes his son, Chris, on a vacation to visit Machu Picchu, in Peru. But with Travis, a vacation is never just a vacation,its an adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491830048

Book preview

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

1

2

3

4

5

6

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8

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This is for my son, Chris.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to my wife, Nanette, for her editing and computer skills.

Thanks to Lois Tingle, Judy Owings, Linda Tedder and

Helen Dunnavent for reading the text.

1

Travis had grown to like his new job, working with Jim Deshler at Fly-By-Night Investigations. He couldn’t believe his good luck, in falling into such a sweet job, after being laid-off from the coal mine where he had worked for almost twenty years.

Fly-By-Night Investigations (or FBN Investigations, as it was more commonly known), was a company started by Jim over thirty years ago, to provide very specialized services. It filled a vital niche in an industry that hardly anyone else had thought to fill. He offered his services as a private investigator that specialized in finding and identifying lost aircraft. His primary clients were insurance companies, who had insured the said aircraft, and had great interest in finding and verifying the fate of the craft they had insured. Over the years, Jim had gotten very good at what he did, and his company had earned a good reputation among major insurers, and they used him again and again.

But not only did he specialize in finding and identifying lost aircraft, but he also gathered other evidence as well, to determine whether a crashed plane had been accidentally, or intentionally destroyed, which was of great interest to the insurance companies who had hired him. Most people who torched their planes, to collect the insurance money, made the erroneous assumption that the flames would destroy all evidence of their deed. But Jim and his wife, Helen, had patented over 25 different lab tests, to detect tell-tale residue, to determine if foul-play or arson may have been involved. That was how Jim had the advantage over his competition, and it was the reason why his services were in such demand, and the reason he was so well paid. In fact, he was sometimes covertly called upon on by the FBI and Interpol, to offer his expertise with a particularly baffling arson, or bombing case. FBN Investigations had developed a rock-solid reputation for honesty, and reliability, and unbiased investigation. Any time he could prove insurance fraud, he was paid his usual fee, plus 10% of what he saved the insurer in fraudulent claims.

For the past year, Travis had been learning the skills and wiles of his new occupation, by working closely in the field with Jim. He took Travis with him on actual cases, and showed him all the little nuances it took to do a thorough job. He showed him all the little things to look for, and how to gather test samples, which would be sent back to his wife, Helen, in Hickory, North Carolina, where the analysis would be done. Helen was a chemist by profession, and used her skills to perform the tests, to determine if arson was involved. She and Jim made a great pair, and the two of them had built their company into the success it was today. It was a company that consisted of just two employees: Jim and his wife. The addition of Travis made three.

Jim and Helen had one grown daughter, but she cared nothing about going into business with them. When she married, they had high hopes that her husband would be someone they could trust to turn their business over to one day, but sadly, he proved to be a man of weak moral character, and unfit to inherit the business they had worked so hard to build. That was when they met Travis, in 1996, on a trip to South America. They were impressed with his intelligence, character and honesty, and kept him in mind. Four years later, on a trip to Italy, they learned that Travis’ coal mine had closed, and he was looking for a job. That was when they made him the offer to train in their profession, with the possibility of taking over the company one day, if he proved worthy.

One year later, they were even more impressed with his ability to handle the job. He had worked hard to re-mold himself to be able to do his new job. He had to study chemistry, something he had never taken an interest in before, and learned how to gather samples for all 25 tests that Helen conducted. He had the natural ability to know how to handle virtually any situation he found himself in, no matter where in the world he found himself. A Special Forces past had engrained him with a survival instinct, and a drive to accomplish his mission, characteristics that had served him well in life since his military days, and would be useful at FBN Investigations.

Jim was satisfied that Travis was ready to turn loose on his own, and told him that the next job to come up, was all his. Jim had longed for the day when he could finally stay home, and let someone else do the leg-work, and that time had finally come.

Travis’ opportunity came within the week. He was at home in bed at 3:40 a.m. when the call came. Janice answered the phone.

Travis, it’s for you. Sounds like Jim.

Hello?

Travis, were you asleep?

I was.

Well, get a note pad! Your first solo job just came up!

Janice, I need pen and paper.

On the night stand beside you.

Okay Jim, go ahead.

A twin engine Cessna, owned by a New York investment firm, was believed to have been stolen by a disgruntled employee. It was flown south, it refueled in Tampa, was scheduled to re-fuel again in Cartagena, Colombia, and then again in Lima, Peru, and by all indications, he was on his way to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The plane failed to arrive in Rio six days ago. Back-tracking, it was learned that the plane never made the refueling stop at Cartagena. The plane seemed to have disappeared, because there was no record of it landing at any verifiable airport anywhere in the area. But then there were reports that the Venezuelan air force had seen an unidentified plane fitting the description of our subject. It entered their air space, was observed experiencing engine trouble, and reportedly went down in a jungle area in the extreme northwest corner of Venezuela, very near the Colombian border. The crash has not been located yet, but a search is in progress. The accountant who stole the corporate jet is a licensed pilot, is suspected of embezzling 10 million in cash, and reportedly has a woman with him, believed to be his secretary\girlfriend.

So I’m off to Venezuela? I’ve never been there before.

You will before the day is out. Hopefully the crash site will be located by the time you arrive there. Lloyds of London is the insurer, so that means a big pay-off, if we can confirm the identity of the craft. Vehicle ID numbers will be faxed to you in Maracaibo.

When do I leave?

Helen has all that information. Here she is.

Helen spoke up, in her thick Belgian accent. Good morning, Travis!

Good morning, Helen.

You have something to write with?

Yes.

You fly out of Birmingham this morning at 7:10, on Southwest Airline. Confirmation number is DSZ532899432. You change planes in Atlanta then take Avianca at 10:30 to Maracaibo, Venezuela. Arrival approximately 3 pm. A representative of the Venezuelan State Department will meet you there, and will provide transportation to either a hotel, or directly to the crash site, depending on if the crash has been located yet. Are there any questions?

No, Helen, that seems to cover it.

Good luck, Travis. Here is Jim again.

From what I understand, the government wants you to stay at your hotel, if the crash site has not been found when you get there. Hugo Chavez, the president of Venezuela, is wary of anything or anyone from the U.S. So let’s hope the crash can be located quickly. You speak Spanish, so this should be an easy first job for you, Travis. Remember your training. Call us if you have any questions.

Will do. So this appears to be a case of an embezzler skipping the country with his company’s money, and his secretary?

Yes, a common scenario. Brazil does not have an extradition treaty with the States, in fact they encourage Americans with tons of money to come to Brazil and spend it. It’s a big boost to the economy of Brazil. I have thought about doing that myself, but Helen won’t let me hire a cute, sexy secretary, and besides, I would have to embezzle the money from myself!

In the background he heard Helen reply: Ya and no matter where in the world you would go, I would find you! Me and my big Smith & Wesson!

So take Helen with you, Jim, and call it a vacation.

Helen and I have traveled so much, that for us, a vacation would be to stay home and do nothing for a few weeks! Hopefully, with you flying solo now, we can do more of that. Good luck, Travis!

2

Janice drove her husband to the Birmingham airport, and while she had his undivided attention, reminded him that when he got back from this job, he needed to finalize his plans to take their son Chris to Machu Picchu. Travis had offered to take each of his five kids somewhere in the world, as a high school graduation gift to them. This provided an opportunity to spend a couple of weeks with each of his kids before they graduated. He had taken Jenny, his oldest, to the rain forest in eastern Peru, he took Drew to England, Joey to Italy, and now, Chris to the Andes Mountains to see Machu Picchu.

But there was a devious plan in the works, and Travis had been tipped off to it by his son, Joey. It seems that his nosey sister-in-law, Marla, who was ever trying to break up his marriage to her little sister, had actually made a bet with Janice. Marla bet that, given the opportunity, Travis would be unfaithful to her. And to put him to the test, they were going to send someone down to Peru with Travis, who, unknown to him, was a private investigator. If Marla was able to prove it, then Janice would have grounds to divorce Travis. Not that she would do it, but she would have to admit that Marla had been right all these years. If, on the other hand, Travis passed the test, then Marla was to forever butt out of Janice’s married life! However, for this private investigator to go on the trip, someone had to back out of it. So as a ruse, Travis was told to buy a plane ticket for Uncle Arnold. But the plan was for Uncle Arnold to back out at the last minute, which would allow the PI to buy the spot, and go in his place. Now, as he prepared to go on one last business trip, before the Peruvian vacation, he asked his wife a pertinent question. But he already knew the answer.

Is Uncle Arnold still planning to go with us?

Janice looked surprised, but kept her composure. Why, sure. I haven’t heard anything otherwise.

Then, when I get back, I need to get him to go ahead and pay me for that trip, since I already reserved it for him.

Yes, you do, because the deadline is 30 days prior to departure. It’s 38 days from today. Do you think you will be more than a week on this job?

I don’t know. It depends on how quickly the Venezuelan searchers are able to locate the crash site.

I thought they already knew where it was?

They know the basic area where it went down, but as of an hour ago, it had still not been found. The sooner, the better, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want to be in the rain forest any longer than I have to. The jungle reminds me of Vietnam.

Don’t go there, Travis! Just keep your mind on your job, and come back home safe!

Don’t worry, I’ll do that. Just hold down the fort while I’m gone.

Another thing, don’t be surprised if you come back home and find out that Rebecca is about to get married.

What?

You heard me. She and Stan have been making wedding plans. I expect them to make an announcement any day now.

So soon?

What do you mean, ‘so soon’? They have been dating for almost three years.

That long? It sure doesn’t seem like that long. Why don’t they wait until Stan graduates? He’s only a junior at UCA.

But he’s thinking about leaving college early, and entering the NFL draft.

"Why? I mean, I know he’s an All-American lineman, but once he leaves college, he has to deal with the real world. He’s not needing money that badly, I know! Especially with an Uncle that owns half of Georgia! I need to sit down and have a talk with Stan, and Rebecca. How long have you known about this?"

"A couple of days. I was going to tell you later today, and get you to talk to them, but then this job suddenly came up, and I’m thinking they are going to make their announcement before you get back."

Well, talk to them, and tell them that I want to discuss things with them first. Not that it will do any good. My kids never seem to take my advice or listen to any kind of reason. But tell them to wait about making a public announcement, until I get back. Can you do that?

I’ll tell them.

They are growing up too fast. You know that, don’t you?

No, they are just growing up faster than we want them to.

Janice pulled up to the curb in front of Southwest Airlines. Promise me that you will be careful.

Of course I will. That goes without saying. Want any souvenirs from Venezuela?

What do they have down there?

I don’t know. I’ve never been there.

"I just want you back safe and sound with me!"

Yes Ma’am! I can do that. He kissed her, picked up his bag of clothes, and his FBN lab case, and went to board his plane.

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As Travis flew from Birmingham to Atlanta, he wondered how many times in his life he had flown. He wished he had kept up with it. If he stayed with FBN, he was sure to fly a lot more times. He wasn’t afraid to fly, but there were times when he sure wished he didn’t. But then, life was full of things that he didn’t like to do. He did them because as an adult, he was expected to do them. He was starting to look forward to the time when he could retire, and do anything he damn well pleased! If he wanted to hoe his garden butt naked, then by God, he was going to do it! The neighbors could jolly well get over it, or look the other way!

Or if he wanted to get into his truck and just drive, with no destination in mind, and a credit card in his pocket, and just the clothes on his back, then by golly, he was going to do it! When he came to a fork in the road, he would flip a coin, and let fate lead him to where ever it took him! It actually wouldn’t be much different from the way I have lived my life up until now. Sometimes the smallest event is the catalyst that changes the whole direction of my life. It couldn’t be more random than it already is! But, I wouldn’t have it any other way!

And it wasn’t just the events, but it was the people he met along the way, that made the journey more interesting. More people than he could remember! Some, he didn’t want to remember, but good or bad, they were all a part of the mosaic that made up his life. And he had a feeling that the mosaic was a long way from complete. There were places to go, things to do, and people to meet.

3

If he thought he was going to get a chance to sight-see in Maracaibo, he was mistaken, because when he arrived, his contact met him as he exited the plane, and informed him that the plane crash had been located, and the area around the crash had been sealed off by the military, to await the crash investigators. He would not even go to a hotel, but hop on a chopper, and head out to the crash site immediately.

His contact, Hernandez, a representative of the Venezuelan State Department, was fluent in English. He presented Travis with a manila envelope. Your company faxed you a few documents. I am to give them to you.

Thank you. This should be the plane’s identification numbers. He opened the envelope, and found that there was also a request from the owner of the plane, to retrieve the stolen cash and return it to the States. I assume that you have already read this information?

Yes, and I will tell you right up front, that if the stolen money is retrieved from the plane, it is to be claimed by the Venezuelan government, because it was brought into this country illegally.

That might be a moot point. Did the plane burn on impact?

No, I am told that the fuselage is basically intact. The plane went down in untouched rain forest, and so the big trees softened the impact. In fact, it did not even make it to the ground, I am told.

That’s good! The crash will be easier to investigate if it did not burn. Any survivors?

None that we known of.

How many bodies in the plane?

I do not know.

According to my information, there should be two.

We have not opened the cockpit. We were ordered to find the plane, and guard it against ‘unauthorized entry’, until you arrived.

And to confiscate the stolen cash?

Yes.

Well, that is a matter to be worked out later in court.

Yes. We have tried to keep word of this crash site a secret, because of the large amount of cash presumed to be on board, but I will be honest with you. In this day of high tech electronics, it is hard for even our State Department to keep a secret. We fear that several paramilitary groups may have known of the crash, and were trying to find it before we did. Luckily, we got there first, and it is well guarded.

So there are several paramilitary groups in Venezuela, looking for that money?

Yes, they can well fund their causes, and further their agendas with 10 million dollars! But not all the groups are from Venezuela. We got word of a group from Colombia that may already be across the border, they are also seeking the plane.

So we need to work quickly. Right now I need to visit the crash site.

Yes, follow me. We have a helicopter waiting.

As they walked, Hernandez asked him, So you work for the CIA?

Travis laughed. No, I do not work for the CIA! I work for a private investigation company called FBN . . .

FBN, FBI, CIA, they are all the same thing! I am told by my superiors, to watch you very closely, because you are probably here as a spy! Like James Bond!

Your superiors have been watching too many Hollywood movies! I assure you, there is little here in Venezuela that would be of concern to the CIA!

So you are saying that my country is so small and insignificant, that the CIA is not worried about us?

I don’t know about that. I don’t work for the U.S. government, so I don’t know, and I don’t care! I am sent here to conduct an investigation for Lloyd’s of London, into the crash of a plane they had insured. Aside from that, I don’t get into politics.

That is good. Politics is not a good thing for you to be concerned with. You have flown in a helicopter before?

Sure, many times. This looks like a Russian made craft?

Yes, Russian made! Best helicopter in the world!

Travis could have disputed that, but he wasn’t here to argue. He just wanted to get his job done. They boarded the awkward, albatross-looking chopper, and fastened their seat belts, for a quick ride to the north-west.

The crash site is seventy-five miles from here, . . . about a thirty minute ride!

Travis nodded, as the noise was too great to try carrying on a conversation. He watched the country-side beneath them change from sprawling urban blight, in the form of endless poor barrios, shelters constructed of tin, scrap lumber, and cardboard, to sparcely populated farm land. And then from poor farmland, to the large haciendas of the wealthy land owners, connected by well maintained roads. But after the rich haciendas, came the impenetrable rain forest, with no roads, no signs of human activity. The huge canopy of these massive trees wove themselves together to form a formidable bulwark against civilization. It impressed Travis as being even more thick and formidable than either the Peruvian, or the Southeast Asian rain forests. He wondered how they were able to find something as small as an airplane in all that endless sea of green. Especially since it didn’t burn. A burning wreckage would at least send out a beacon of smoke.

Mile after mile after mile of the endless green passed beneath them, and finally the chopper began to veer and make corrections in their flight pattern, indicating that they were nearing their destination. When they slowed down, and began to circle, Travis could see a freshly cleared area in the jungle, just big enough that the helicopter could set down. That was somewhat of a relief, because he was starting to think that he was going to have to rappel down to the crash site. He held on nervously, as the chopper pilot set them down precariously in the small clearing. The trees they had felled to create the clearing were sprawled out on the ground, with sawyers wielding chain saws, still roving the area, cutting and leveling the tree limbs in the landing area. It wasn’t a perfect landing pad, but under the circumstances, it would do. As they off-loaded, weary and worn-out workers loaded up on the chopper, to be shuttled back to Maracaibo. Above the noise of the engine, Hernandez yelled to him, I am told by the pilot, that we are less than five miles from the Colombian border! Travis nodded.

A group of military fatigue clad men with guns came out of the jungle to meet them. Travis grabbed his lab case and climbed out of the chopper. One of the crew yelled at him, to get his clothes bag too, because the chopper was about to leave again. Yes, I might need my clothes! He struggled to climb over the fallen tree limbs and debris, as the chopper took off behind him, showering him with a storm of leaves and dirt. The overpowering smell of fresh-cut exotic woods, and crushed green leaves, mingled with the earthy smell of fresh, virgin soil. What a shame, Travis thought, that all this magnificent untouched rain forest was destroyed, just because some accountant stole some money, and tried to fly away with his secretary! It doesn’t seem worth it!

One of the soldiers who came out to meet Travis and his escort, spoke English, and even knew his name. Mr. Lee, we are establishing a base camp in the shade of the trees, within a short distance of the crash. We hope you will feel right at home there!

Thank you! I’m sure it will be more than sufficient. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t want to ‘feel right at home’ here. Actually, he was planning to get his job done, and getting out of here as soon as possible. Hopefully he could get a late night flight out of Maracaibo, and be back home by tomorrow morning.

By the time they reached the base camp, Travis was soaked with sweat. Small rivelets of sweat were pouring down his face.

It is a little bit hot, for a Gringo, no!

It’s not so much the heat, as it is the humidity.

We have plenty of drinking water. You must drink to keep from dehydrating!

Yes, thank you. I will do that.

Hernandez made a suggestion. Perhaps you would like to rest and maybe take a nap, before you go to the crash? It will be much cooler in the hours before dark.

No, I’m okay. I’ll rest a little and drink water, and go ahead with my investigation.

Very well. The plane is this way.

They hiked up the hill, and started to see damaged trees, and then part of a plane wing on the forest floor, along with other debris. Soldiers with AK-47’s eyed him curiously.

So where is the crash?

Look up, my friend! He looked up, and there it was, wedged on the forks of a huge ficus tree, entwined by huge strangler fig vines and roots. The wings and tail were broken off, but the body of the plane seemed to be intact.

Wow. How are we going to get up there? That has to be sixty feet off the ground.

We were told that it is up to you decide. You can climb up, or we can cut the tree down.

I think it will be best to cut the tree down, then we can access it easier. I don’t think the additional damage to the plane will matter. Yes, go ahead and cut it down.

The orders were given, and the sawyers were brought from the clearing, and told to put it on the ground. They went right to work, and within minutes, the tree cracked and crashed to the ground. Then they started to work, cutting limbs out of the way, so Travis could get to the plane. As he neared the plane, he noticed an odor, and asked, How long has the plane been here?

Six or seven days. I am sure what we smell is the decomposing bodies in the plane. This intense jungle heat is sure to have caused them to deteriorate quickly.

Yeah, I’m sure. Travis said dryly.

Travis went into his bag to get a surgical mask and latex gloves to wear, then folded the paper with the numbers on it, and put it in his pocket. I may need help getting the cockpit door open. Two men were assigned to help him with the door, but it easily unlatched and swung open.

The rotten smell hit them like an exploding grenade, and the three of them retreated immediately to find fresh air.

Dios Mio! exclaimed one of the men, as they retreated farther away. Travis had smelled dead bodies before, but this was above and beyond anything previously encountered.

You have my sympathy, Mr. Lee! It looks like you are in for a very bad day!

Yeah. No need to put it off. I’m going in to get this over with. He took a few deep breaths of fresh air, then went to the open door, and stepped in. The pilot was still strapped in the operator’s seat, with his head dangling to one side. Most likely a broken neck. The woman’s body was crumpled in the floorboard, and curiously flung up under the dash. Both corpses were bloated to the point of being unrecognizable. The ‘juice’ was running out of both bodies, and had covered the floor. Bundles of new $100 bills were scattered all over the cockpit, having been thrown forward from somewhere in the back when they crashed. Many of the bundles were already saturated with rotten juices from the dead. The entire inside of the plane was teeming with wiggling, excited maggots.

Travis had seen enough. He had to get out. He bolted from the plane and snatched off his mask just in time to throw up. He gagged and threw up again. Someone brought him a bottle of water to wash out his mouth, and he sat down to regain his composure.

It is very bad, my friend, no?

Yes, very bad. But I have to go back in there and get the numbers I need. He rested a few minutes, then went back in. He was aware that he was going to have to move the woman’s body to get under the dash, where the ID numbers, so he went there first. He grabbed her arm and tried to snatch her out from under the dash, but only succeeded in pulling her arm off at the shoulder with a sickening fleshy *rip*. Horrified, he threw the arm away, then did the only thing he could do. He grabbed her around her waist, and pulled, until he felt her moving, then dragged her quickly toward the back of the plane, and threw her down with a dull thud. He raked the maggots off his forearms by the hundreds. Wanting to get this over with quickly, he got down on his knees and crawled under the dash. Lying where the corpse had been, among the sea of maggots he used a rag to wipe the stainless steel plate, so he could read the numbers. He took out a pen and wrote them down, then tried to roll over, out of the pool of rotted juices.

Examining the pilot, he saw a note pad and passport in his shirt pocket, which he took. He unfastened the seat belt of the pilot, and rolled him out in the floor, so he could get at his wallet, and thus, make a positive ID on him. He looked for a purse, to identify the woman, but saw none. By this time, he had to get out. He was about to pass out from the nausea. He gagged, as he stumbled out, and collapsed on the ground. Everyone near him moved away.

So, how many bodies are in the plane?

Two. *(gag)* Do you have body bags?

No, we will bury the bodies. What about the money?

It’s in there, and since you said you are going to confiscate it, you can go in and gather it up!

Are you going back in?

Yes, but not right now. I need a break! I’ve got some of what I need.

Can we remove the bodies?

Sure, knock yourself out. And gather the money if you want to. He leaned back against a tree and watched, as some of the soldiers were ordered in to remove the bodies, a task that no one wanted to do, and others were ordered to begin digging graves.

The soldiers assigned to remove the bodies stripped down to their underwear, and neatly folded and stacked their clothes. Travis assumed that was to keep from ruining them. They entered the plane, and discussed the best way to remove the bodies. From somewhere in the back of the plane they found a carpet covered board big enough to put the bodies on and carry them. They were bringing the pilot out first, and had him just out the door, when the board broke in half. Apparently it was particle board, instead of real wood. The body sort of splattered when it hit, and everyone was covered in gore. They cussed and complained, but their commander ordered them to finish the job. They drug the body, in pieces, away from the plane, and toward the graves. They had no better luck with the woman.

As Travis watched all this, he couldn’t help