Chapter 3: A Plan of Action
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Warm sand. Cool sea breeze. A beautiful woman to bring me Mai-Tai's. Life is perfect.
Not that Dinah would actually bring me a Mai-Tai. But as I wouldn't drink one if she did, that need not be considered. This is still Santa Amoza's famed Pearl Beach, and it is still a beautiful day.
Looking out over the azure water, I give a mental pat to Dr. Bashir, who had the good sense to expedite Dick's vacation over the objections of Captain Addad. Once Dick makes detective it will be harder for him to get away.
This is our second day of vacation. The first was spent in travel. Even with a private jet, it's a long trip. Made longer because I refused to land in Santa Prisca for fuel. Dick says I wouldn't breath air if they supplied it. He's probably right.
I flip through the local paper. The lead story is the Museum theft. Same as yesterday. I consider calling Cachiru. Or even 'El Hombre Veridad.' Give the natives a thrill. No, this is a vacation. We are here to relax. Besides, I'm sure the Minister of Justice has matters well in hand. And J'onn has my number. Under the fold? Trade sanctions for Santa Prisca and murder at the Hilton just down the coast. A spectacularly bloody affair, if the writer is to be trusted. Not that I don't discount at least ten percent for South American tabloid journalism. The Amoza Advocate may be the local paper of record, but it's no Daily Planet. Still...I make a note of the name. Simon Templar. Is that the European contract thief? I had thought Templar was retired, but? No matter. I force myself to relax. The police will handle matters. The local Minister of Justice is no Jim Gordon, but he's honest enough and his cops are reasonably competent. They know who to call if they need help. Not that the local police wont find whoever is responsible without League assistance. For the most part criminals are a superstitious, cowardly lot - and not that bright.
I roll over to watch Dick, who is rapidly destroying a group of college kids in a game of beach volleyball. They seem to be enjoying their defeat.
That is Dick's great strength, He is just so ....lovable. Not just my opinion. In this, it is just possible that I might be biased. But no, his colleagues in the Titans, Young Justice, even my own occasional allies in the JLA - everyone is delighted to be with Dick. But he is, quite frankly, great company. I smile as he slams the ball just over the net for another point.
That young blond on his team is no help. She'd rather fall against Dick then hit the ball. Not that I blame her. It just proves her good taste. The men like him too. Even when they are so clearly outclassed, they are still just delighted to play. And Dick is such a gracious winner. Always a smile, always complements for a move well done.
He's a natural leader; handsome, charismatic, brilliant......
Stop that.
I discipline myself to focus on the business reports my local agent has delivered. Not much new information on the Hidalgo Trading Company. They have a good reputation. They are considered an excellent employer. They pay their bills on time. But no one seems to know much of what they do.
I now have pictures of the board members, and rather truncated biographies. Almost as if they were deliberately staying out of sight.
Neither of the two Generals had major military careers; although some would argue that any career that earns a star should be considered major. They were in active duty for the Second World War, and in the reserves afterwards. No sign of a recall to duty. At least none on record. With what these men did, that may mean nothing. General Renwick made his money in heavy construction, primarily bridges. He's an expert at reinforced concrete. General Roberts holds several patents in electronics, and may have earned that star for his inventions rather than his field leadership. Both are men of flawless reputations. Oracle is right. I wouldn't think of them as criminals. Normally.
I messengered the scraps of feather to Oracle, but it's too early to expect a report. I'll assume they came from the Rio Chak for now.
Yesterday was a stretch. Very much 'Bruce Wayne'. Not to mention the hassle with the hotel manager. We decided to explain the furniture by not explaining. I settled on an outraged call of complaint. Why not? Whatever happened, we were very clearly somewhere else at the time. I have no idea how he'll explain it to his boss, but that's not my problem. Then he called hotel security and they called the police and.....it was two in the morning before everyone left and let me get to bed.
Today has been better. I told everyone I wanted to 'rest'. And Oracle has promised to hook me up with a capable guide.
A movement at the edge of the beach catches my eye. If my judgment serves me, that must be him. I sit up as he approaches. Diana also sees the newcomer and moves out to cover me. Just in case.
Dick breaks off his game and signals a waiter. Seems natural. He must be thirsty. And the glass of water gives him time to check both me and my visitor.
A rather well built young man. Tan, but not by nature. Perhaps European. Not too young. I'd guess in his thirties. Sun lines make it hard to judge his age. Brown hair, but sun bleached. Conventional clothes. Shirt and khakis. Well worn fedora in his left hand. He'll pass unnoticed by the hotel tourists. Not by the staff. I can see them look up as he passes. But they aren't worried. He's known. His shirt moves against his torso as he sits centered on the adjacent beach chair. He's packing. Back belt holster. The whip interests me more. The last thing I need is another Selina in my life.
He stops two feet from my chair. "Mr. Wayne."
"Dr. Jones."
He nods, but does not offer his hand. Still uncertain of this deal. Good.
"I understand you are looking for a guide."
"I am considering a ....journey ....down the Rio Chak."
"Several tourist boats go to Pachicoc."
"But I don't." I notice Jones's eyes widen slightly as he catches my meaning. "I want to see places a bit more....... inland."
"So I'm told." He is judging me, and not quite convinced by what he sees." Look, Wayne. You come highly recommended or I wouldn't be talking to you. But I don't take jobs for people who don't tell me what they are after, I don't rob anyone who doesn't deserve it, and I *don't* kill, so..."
I cut him off. "I think we can do business."
Dick's opponents are understandably disappointed when he declines another game, but even they understand that 'business comes first'. A cute brunette on the other team slips him a napkin as he leaves. Probably her room number. I give her credit for trying.
With a signal to the waiter we adjourn to the suite.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
He must call ahead, because another waiter is waiting when we reach the door.
Dinah orders iced teas all around, and there is the usual round of introductions before we settle down to business.
"This may be a bit of a ....different job." Different for Bruce Wayne, at any rate. "I don't want anyone killed. Or even robbed for that matter. As for what we'll be after? At this point, I honestly don't know."
I unfold the map I have brought with me, spreading it out so he can read it easily.
"I have an ... interest... in the actions of a local group."
I can see him think politics. No chance. I get enough of that with the JLA.
"You've heard of the Hidalgo Trading Company?" A nod. Of course he has. "But can you tell me exactly what they trade? Or where?"
Not the question he was expecting.
"Neither, it would appear, can anyone on the surface of planet Earth."
Or off it. But I can not add that.
"They import nothing. They export nothing. And they seem to make quite a profit doing so." I pull over the file. "Their offices in Metropolis and London are shells. Little more then a post drop. The Central City plant is merely a location for banking and clerical work. Plus a comfortable office for Thomas Roberts to do nothing in."
"Not my business, business. I only deal with it when it's at least a millennia dead."
I ignore that. I know what his skills are.
"All decisions. All activity - for whatever purpose that activity is intended - come by wire from Hap'osil , Hidalgo."
I point to the map on the table. Hap'osil is on the map, but barely so. Beyond it is the mountain country that appears on no maps whatsoever.
"My intention is to go there - or as close as possible to get while undetected - and discover exactly what those decisions involve. Who makes them, and why. And what true motive is behind the Hidalgo Shipping Company."
He holds out his hand.
"As you said, Mr. Wayne. I think we can do business."
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
It's two days before we can get on the road. One for supples, and one wasted putting out fires at Wayne Industries. I come to town, and no one can make a decision for themselves. It's times like this I appreciate Lucius Fox.
Thank God I have Dick to handle the important arrangements. He finds a hum vee, charts out our road, and gets all the permissions required to get 'students' such as ourselves into the restricted indigenous areas. Not that we wouldn't go without it, but it's always better to follow the law - where one can.
Dinah works with Dr. Jones to rent a boat for the voyage down the Rio Chak. He seems familiar with doing so without letting anyone know our true destination. For the record, we are student volunteers joining a survey on rare birds.
We settle our final details over dinner, which reveals two things. First, that Dr. Jones was not actually raised in a barn. Despite all his assumed gruffness, the man's manners are smooth enough when he is motivated. In this instance, Dinah is the motivation. Second, that he does own a suit. One fine enough to rather wreck the 'Jungle Jim' image Jones seems so determined to cultivate. No matter. Dinah seems to be bearing up well under the disillusion.
We are lingering over wine and cheese when Dick pulls out his depressingly thick file. Permits and travel authorizations. I give a passing calculation to how that paper would translate - once for ounce - against hundred dollar bills. Quick memory check. Dick does tell me such things, even though I seldom listen. As I thought. Annoyingly close to a one-to-one ratio.
Dr. Jones smiles as he looks over our permits. I grant, we are an unlikely group of 'graduate students', but a few dollars was enough to persuade the local Minister of Indigenous Peoples of our educational intentions.
"Not that anyone believes that, Mr. Wayne," Jones comments, tucking the permits into his pocket.
"What do they believe?"
Jones nods his head at the wait staff. "They say that you have come for the Tongue of the Jaguar."
"And why would I do that?" I ask.
"So you can kill the Jaguar God and rule over the City of Gold."
END CHAPTER THREE
With thanks to nikoru-chan, who brought you this chapter.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
Warm sand. Cool sea breeze. A beautiful woman to bring me Mai-Tai's. Life is perfect.
Not that Dinah would actually bring me a Mai-Tai. But as I wouldn't drink one if she did, that need not be considered. This is still Santa Amoza's famed Pearl Beach, and it is still a beautiful day.
Looking out over the azure water, I give a mental pat to Dr. Bashir, who had the good sense to expedite Dick's vacation over the objections of Captain Addad. Once Dick makes detective it will be harder for him to get away.
This is our second day of vacation. The first was spent in travel. Even with a private jet, it's a long trip. Made longer because I refused to land in Santa Prisca for fuel. Dick says I wouldn't breath air if they supplied it. He's probably right.
I flip through the local paper. The lead story is the Museum theft. Same as yesterday. I consider calling Cachiru. Or even 'El Hombre Veridad.' Give the natives a thrill. No, this is a vacation. We are here to relax. Besides, I'm sure the Minister of Justice has matters well in hand. And J'onn has my number. Under the fold? Trade sanctions for Santa Prisca and murder at the Hilton just down the coast. A spectacularly bloody affair, if the writer is to be trusted. Not that I don't discount at least ten percent for South American tabloid journalism. The Amoza Advocate may be the local paper of record, but it's no Daily Planet. Still...I make a note of the name. Simon Templar. Is that the European contract thief? I had thought Templar was retired, but? No matter. I force myself to relax. The police will handle matters. The local Minister of Justice is no Jim Gordon, but he's honest enough and his cops are reasonably competent. They know who to call if they need help. Not that the local police wont find whoever is responsible without League assistance. For the most part criminals are a superstitious, cowardly lot - and not that bright.
I roll over to watch Dick, who is rapidly destroying a group of college kids in a game of beach volleyball. They seem to be enjoying their defeat.
That is Dick's great strength, He is just so ....lovable. Not just my opinion. In this, it is just possible that I might be biased. But no, his colleagues in the Titans, Young Justice, even my own occasional allies in the JLA - everyone is delighted to be with Dick. But he is, quite frankly, great company. I smile as he slams the ball just over the net for another point.
That young blond on his team is no help. She'd rather fall against Dick then hit the ball. Not that I blame her. It just proves her good taste. The men like him too. Even when they are so clearly outclassed, they are still just delighted to play. And Dick is such a gracious winner. Always a smile, always complements for a move well done.
He's a natural leader; handsome, charismatic, brilliant......
Stop that.
I discipline myself to focus on the business reports my local agent has delivered. Not much new information on the Hidalgo Trading Company. They have a good reputation. They are considered an excellent employer. They pay their bills on time. But no one seems to know much of what they do.
I now have pictures of the board members, and rather truncated biographies. Almost as if they were deliberately staying out of sight.
Neither of the two Generals had major military careers; although some would argue that any career that earns a star should be considered major. They were in active duty for the Second World War, and in the reserves afterwards. No sign of a recall to duty. At least none on record. With what these men did, that may mean nothing. General Renwick made his money in heavy construction, primarily bridges. He's an expert at reinforced concrete. General Roberts holds several patents in electronics, and may have earned that star for his inventions rather than his field leadership. Both are men of flawless reputations. Oracle is right. I wouldn't think of them as criminals. Normally.
I messengered the scraps of feather to Oracle, but it's too early to expect a report. I'll assume they came from the Rio Chak for now.
Yesterday was a stretch. Very much 'Bruce Wayne'. Not to mention the hassle with the hotel manager. We decided to explain the furniture by not explaining. I settled on an outraged call of complaint. Why not? Whatever happened, we were very clearly somewhere else at the time. I have no idea how he'll explain it to his boss, but that's not my problem. Then he called hotel security and they called the police and.....it was two in the morning before everyone left and let me get to bed.
Today has been better. I told everyone I wanted to 'rest'. And Oracle has promised to hook me up with a capable guide.
A movement at the edge of the beach catches my eye. If my judgment serves me, that must be him. I sit up as he approaches. Diana also sees the newcomer and moves out to cover me. Just in case.
Dick breaks off his game and signals a waiter. Seems natural. He must be thirsty. And the glass of water gives him time to check both me and my visitor.
A rather well built young man. Tan, but not by nature. Perhaps European. Not too young. I'd guess in his thirties. Sun lines make it hard to judge his age. Brown hair, but sun bleached. Conventional clothes. Shirt and khakis. Well worn fedora in his left hand. He'll pass unnoticed by the hotel tourists. Not by the staff. I can see them look up as he passes. But they aren't worried. He's known. His shirt moves against his torso as he sits centered on the adjacent beach chair. He's packing. Back belt holster. The whip interests me more. The last thing I need is another Selina in my life.
He stops two feet from my chair. "Mr. Wayne."
"Dr. Jones."
He nods, but does not offer his hand. Still uncertain of this deal. Good.
"I understand you are looking for a guide."
"I am considering a ....journey ....down the Rio Chak."
"Several tourist boats go to Pachicoc."
"But I don't." I notice Jones's eyes widen slightly as he catches my meaning. "I want to see places a bit more....... inland."
"So I'm told." He is judging me, and not quite convinced by what he sees." Look, Wayne. You come highly recommended or I wouldn't be talking to you. But I don't take jobs for people who don't tell me what they are after, I don't rob anyone who doesn't deserve it, and I *don't* kill, so..."
I cut him off. "I think we can do business."
Dick's opponents are understandably disappointed when he declines another game, but even they understand that 'business comes first'. A cute brunette on the other team slips him a napkin as he leaves. Probably her room number. I give her credit for trying.
With a signal to the waiter we adjourn to the suite.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
He must call ahead, because another waiter is waiting when we reach the door.
Dinah orders iced teas all around, and there is the usual round of introductions before we settle down to business.
"This may be a bit of a ....different job." Different for Bruce Wayne, at any rate. "I don't want anyone killed. Or even robbed for that matter. As for what we'll be after? At this point, I honestly don't know."
I unfold the map I have brought with me, spreading it out so he can read it easily.
"I have an ... interest... in the actions of a local group."
I can see him think politics. No chance. I get enough of that with the JLA.
"You've heard of the Hidalgo Trading Company?" A nod. Of course he has. "But can you tell me exactly what they trade? Or where?"
Not the question he was expecting.
"Neither, it would appear, can anyone on the surface of planet Earth."
Or off it. But I can not add that.
"They import nothing. They export nothing. And they seem to make quite a profit doing so." I pull over the file. "Their offices in Metropolis and London are shells. Little more then a post drop. The Central City plant is merely a location for banking and clerical work. Plus a comfortable office for Thomas Roberts to do nothing in."
"Not my business, business. I only deal with it when it's at least a millennia dead."
I ignore that. I know what his skills are.
"All decisions. All activity - for whatever purpose that activity is intended - come by wire from Hap'osil , Hidalgo."
I point to the map on the table. Hap'osil is on the map, but barely so. Beyond it is the mountain country that appears on no maps whatsoever.
"My intention is to go there - or as close as possible to get while undetected - and discover exactly what those decisions involve. Who makes them, and why. And what true motive is behind the Hidalgo Shipping Company."
He holds out his hand.
"As you said, Mr. Wayne. I think we can do business."
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
It's two days before we can get on the road. One for supples, and one wasted putting out fires at Wayne Industries. I come to town, and no one can make a decision for themselves. It's times like this I appreciate Lucius Fox.
Thank God I have Dick to handle the important arrangements. He finds a hum vee, charts out our road, and gets all the permissions required to get 'students' such as ourselves into the restricted indigenous areas. Not that we wouldn't go without it, but it's always better to follow the law - where one can.
Dinah works with Dr. Jones to rent a boat for the voyage down the Rio Chak. He seems familiar with doing so without letting anyone know our true destination. For the record, we are student volunteers joining a survey on rare birds.
We settle our final details over dinner, which reveals two things. First, that Dr. Jones was not actually raised in a barn. Despite all his assumed gruffness, the man's manners are smooth enough when he is motivated. In this instance, Dinah is the motivation. Second, that he does own a suit. One fine enough to rather wreck the 'Jungle Jim' image Jones seems so determined to cultivate. No matter. Dinah seems to be bearing up well under the disillusion.
We are lingering over wine and cheese when Dick pulls out his depressingly thick file. Permits and travel authorizations. I give a passing calculation to how that paper would translate - once for ounce - against hundred dollar bills. Quick memory check. Dick does tell me such things, even though I seldom listen. As I thought. Annoyingly close to a one-to-one ratio.
Dr. Jones smiles as he looks over our permits. I grant, we are an unlikely group of 'graduate students', but a few dollars was enough to persuade the local Minister of Indigenous Peoples of our educational intentions.
"Not that anyone believes that, Mr. Wayne," Jones comments, tucking the permits into his pocket.
"What do they believe?"
Jones nods his head at the wait staff. "They say that you have come for the Tongue of the Jaguar."
"And why would I do that?" I ask.
"So you can kill the Jaguar God and rule over the City of Gold."
END CHAPTER THREE
With thanks to nikoru-chan, who brought you this chapter.