Chapter Thirteen

His luck was running thin. The Sicilian knew it the moment he saw them go back inside the hotel. His mission would have to wait. He didn’t like it, but what could he do? They were inside their rooms, now. There was no way to slip inside, kill them, and get away without being spotted. So close, but still light years away from completing the hit on them. He couldn’t creep through a back window or pick the locks and go in after them. Too risky.

Inside the car, he mulled over his options. Entering their rooms was definitely out. Not now. No, he could wait. Also, the big guy could be a problem. A man that size, you never knew what he was capable of doing. He knew he had to be careful. He was so close, yet realistically, he had nothing but names and faces so far.

The sound of a truck backfiring along the road outside brought him back. He switched on the engine and swung the rental into a narrow space five cars down from where the big guy had entered the hotel. The Sicilian would wait until morning and follow them. He had plenty of time. Time was his ally. The great expanse of Borneo countryside rolled out before him. Remote. Secluded. The perfect place to commit murder. No one would ever find them.

Entering the hotel, the Sicilian moved toward the front desk. He paid cash for a room for one night. A small, doe-eyed Indonesian woman, middle-aged but pretty, smiled up at him.

She took his money and logged in his wake up call for 5:00 a.m. Then, he went upstairs with the room attendant who placed his overnight bag in the elevator. The man opened the room, and they entered. He turned on the air conditioner, opened a tiny refrigerator revealing alcoholic beverages inside, received a tip, and left.

The Sicilian showered and came outside into the living room. He tossed back the bed covers and slipped under them, naked–the way he always slept. He laid his head down on the pillow. In the darkness, behind closed eyes, thoughts of murder danced dizzily inside his head.

* * * *

Seabury went upstairs with Lois, Gretchen, and Hornsby. The girls went into a room next to his and shut the door. Hornsby let them into their room and turned the light on inside the door. He dug inside his rucksack and came out with bedclothes. He went back into the bathroom and closed the door. A moment later, Seabury heard the shower running.

“I’m tired,” said Hornsby, coming back out later. He wore a pair of striped black and white pajamas and a sleeping cap.

Seabury chuckled. The pajamas resembled early Twentieth Century prison uniforms. “Nice,” Seabury said.

“What?”

“Your pajamas.” He was barely able to suppress a playful snicker.

Hornsby didn’t respond. He went over to his bed and pulled the blanket and sheet down. He slid in sideways with a small, grunting sound expelling from his lungs. He rolled over in the bed next to Seabury’s and was asleep five minutes later.

Meantime, Seabury prepared for bed. He took a shower and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. Hornsby snored in the bed next to his. Not loud, but more like a soft, kittenish purr. Seabury stared across at Hornsby and knew he liked the old man. He liked his class. He liked the way he’d handled his emotions when Lois lashed out at him inside the restaurant. In a dramatic display of silence, he’d repelled her efforts to get him into a full blown argument over all things…religion. In his mind, there could never be a winner or a loser in such a debate.

He’d also noticed something else—the man who sat in the car watching them on the way over to the hotel. In the car, it was dark, no light on. Only a wall of blackness leaking out into the lights strung up over the parking lot. The man hunched over, motionless, just sitting there behind the wheel. A concave-shaped head and dark, short-cropped hair. Wicked eyes with a strange, evil light in them stared across at him. He’d seen the same eyes in the small, cramped cells of asylums for the criminally insane.

Seabury’s watchful eye caught the man sitting there as he strolled past the car. A quick, reflexive glance revealed the man’s body language. It took longer to evaluate its content. Leering eyes and a sharp, rigid jaw. Those eyes, locked on him. They revealed as much pure, unmitigated evil as Seabury had ever seen. The man was out there now, somewhere in the night, watching them…waiting. He had no idea why.

Seabury slipped into bed and pulled the covers around him. Hornsby snored lightly in the other bed. He closed his eyes. In the darkness, the man’s image stared back at him. Short, muscular, and agile for his size, Seabury thought. In his mind, the ticker tape kept going. Eastern Mediterranean—maybe Greek, maybe Sicilian. The tape kept spinning. A few minutes later, it stopped. Seabury wondered who the man was and what he wanted.

* * * *

Gretchen came out of the shower wrapped in a white towel. She sat down in a chair facing a mirror on the wall above a wooden desk. Her hair was still wet, and she dried the short bob of black hair with her hair drier.

“Listen to this,” Lois said with her Bible open.

“I don’t want to hear your Bible stuff.”

Lois arched her left eyebrow. Gretchen looked annoyed, on the verge of being upset. “It’s important,” Lois said. “Hear me out…please. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” She stopped and went on. “Everything has a time and place—everything on God’s great earth is done for a reason. As for instance, there’s a reason why we are here in this hotel, at this moment in time, and it’s all written down in Biblical scripture.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Gretchen, perturbed.

“You don’t believe?” Lois stammered.

Gretchen nodded. “All this Biblical stuff you’re laying on me, I don’t believe any of it.”

Lois became attached to her Bible. Being the older sister, she also knew how to handle Gretchen. She reminded her of why they were here searching for a garden and a buried treasure. According to the Bible, a river ran out of Eden to water a garden. Along the way, the rivers diverted. One of them, the Pishon, spilled out into the land of Havilah where there was gold. Their treasure map pointed to the Mahakam River and its source—a spring located in the Muller Mountains. Their journey to find the spring and a nearby cave would prove the existence of a second garden containing gold and riches.

“If we can’t find the cave,” said Lois, “ then there’s no second garden.”

Gretchen nodded. “Okay. I understand now.”

Lois stared into Gretchen’s eyes. “Please believe me, Gretch., I’m not trying to be heavy-handed here. To me, the Bible is a history book, an early recording of life on Earth; however, it has lost a lot in translation and various versions over the centuries. People like Hornsby will always dispute its authenticity.”

“I’m confused, a little, that’s all,” said Gretchen. “This is a new adventure for me. We’re here now, about to journey out into the boondocks. Yes, I know I wanted to go, but what if we come up empty?”

Lois shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not sure we’ll find anything—especially a second Garden of Eden. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.” Lois yawned. “I’m tired,” she said as she looked at her sister. “Maybe the treasure we’re looking for isn’t a physical presence. Maybe God meant for the treasure to be redemption. The forgiveness of sin–salvation. That’s the treasure we’re apt to find in the cave, if we find one at all. Not gold or riches, but a chance to be once again with Him.”

Lois walked over and put her Bible in her rucksack. She undressed and took a shower. Gretchen was already asleep by the time Lois lay down in the queen-sized bed across from her. For a while, she stared out into the darkness.

She closed her eyes finally and prayed. Dear Heavenly Father, I put this journey in your Hands. Please guide and protect us.

She was asleep in no time.