Confrontation Ch. 01: The Stakeout

"Anything going on now?"

"Talking.... Turning it over for a closer look.... Folding it up again.... Stupid bastards- they'll ruin it that way. Should be rolled around something and put into a stiff tube, not a flat envelope."

"You still shooting? Get everything. I'm going down to street level with my camera to get a better look when he comes out. Keep it running, Elena. We've finally got something here!"

I race down the stairs so fast that I almost fall on my face, but when I reach ground floor, the van is still there. Out comes the camera for a closeup shot of the licence plate and the business registration number painted behind the passenger door. I wait impatiently for the driver to come out of the bar.

There he is, a stocky Latino in some sort of courier outfit, complete with cap. He's carrying the envelope and takes a look around before jumping into the driver's seat and zooming away. I have a photo of the guy for further reference and feel pleased with myself when I retrace my steps- more carefully this time- up to the apartment.

"Anything happening up... Hey, you've shut off the scope! The office light's still on."

"He's with another one of his girls again and I don't want to see it. You shouldn't either."

"What if it's part of the case?"

"Carlos, you know it won't be. It's just another lay for that pig!"

"Well, did you see anything worthwhile when I was downstairs? I got photos of the van and the courier."

"I saw him give money to the manager when he took the envelope. Lots of money, all on video. Close up. They counted it out right on the desk. Big Brazilian banknotes."

"Great! We need that. Anything else?"

"No. They talked a bit, then he left. Some chica came in a few minutes later and started taking off her clothes, so I shut it off."

I know better than to say anything else about that, a real sore point with her.

"Thanks, Elena. We got some good leads today. Finally! Maybe we can get out of this dump soon?"

But she looks unhappy and I wonder why.

"Something's bothering you. What is it?"

"We'll probably never see that shroud again. It's going to go into some private collection- who knows where? It'll simply be an investment for some millionaire, another bauble to show off for friends to admire. Bragging rights for some rich guy- nothing more. I hate that!"

"Maybe we'll be able to intercept it along the chain, or track it down overseas," I console.

"I doubt it. By then there'll be many other pieces gone too. It makes me so mad! This is part of our heritage! This belongs to Peru and it's people, not to bastards who can break all the rules to buy it for themselves. This shroud and everything else going missing is for our country and nobody else...."

She's on a passionate rant now, and I try to reign her in a bit.

"I understand that it upsets you, Elena. This is your job. This is your life, in fact. We'll get to the bottom of it. We will."

"My God, I hope so. This makes me so mad!"

"We're making good headway." I assure her. "Video of an exchange- money for artifact. Shots of people, vehicle, plate and registration numbers. I'll contact the police tomorrow to track the van. It's coming together now."

"I'll do whatever it takes to get these things back to the museum, Carlos. That's where they belong!"

I've been looking at Elena while she spouts off, and I like what I see. Her cotton shift is tied at the waist and hugs her curves closely, almost to the knees. Her nipples are stiff with her emotion and her hips draw my eye between them. With her hair up off her neck, she looks taller than usual, a very sexy woman. Mature and passionate!

"You look nice tonight, you know," I comment, wondering how she'll respond.

"Uhh... thanks. This is a lot cooler than what I wore earlier."

"It's still hot in here. Another beer and we can relax? We've really been pumped up for the past half hour."

"Sure. Why not take your shirt off, Carlos. It's soaking wet. I'll get the Sagres."

We sit on the two old upholstered chairs close to the open window, where there's a breath of night air. The cold liquid is good and we gradually settle into some easy conversation.

"So, Elena, tell me more about that little blanket we saw tonight. You said Paracas. An ancient Peruvian culture, right?"

"You haven't heard of them? Not a museum guy, are you?"

"Mostly learned on the streets. I've been looking for cheaters in bars, not studying blankets in a museum. So, educate me."

"Alright.... They lived on the dry coastal plain- the Atacama Desert- in the southern half of the country," she begins. More than two thousand years ago. But in that desert environment, fabric like you saw doesn't rot unless water gets to it."

"Two thousand years!"

"Even a bit more. They kept sheep and wove the wool into elaborate designs. Some were much more elaborate than what he held up in the office tonight. Big, colourful patterns in angular squares, quilted together. The designs usually showed wild cats- usually jaguars."

"Like our friend, Jag."

We both take another long pull on our beers before Elena continues.

"That's where his nickname comes from. The jaguar image is all over ancient Andean culture. It's what he researched as a grad student from the United States. He stayed on and began to pray to the jaguar gods when he needed help."

"He's a strange guy in some ways."

"Bad things happened in his life, and communicating with the jaguar helped him through."

"You've heard all about it?"

"More than you'll ever know, Carlos. More than I'll ever tell you." And she goes quiet, looking off to the side.

I know she'd had a sexual relationship with Jaguar, maybe more, so I shift the topic.

"You say that was a burial shroud. No coffins or anything like that for the Paracas?"

"No. They carefully removed soft tissue, basically making mummies like the Egyptians. Then wrapped the body in a colourful burial shroud before placing it into a large clay container or a crypt. Some of the best shrouds- not what we saw today- are decorated with the Oculate Being."

"What the Hell is that?"

We draw another slug of the cold, refreshing liquid, draining our bottles.

"Sort of a chief god, the one always watching people. It is often shown flying overhead with big, staring eyes. These are the most sought-after pieces, whether on shrouds or pottery."

"Sounds creepy! Bizarre!"

"Peruvian culture is like that. Fascinating!"

I get two more beers from the rattling old fridge and we tuck into them, making us sweat on the outside, while cooling us within. My bare chest shines with perspiration and I see Elena open the top of her shift more to lose some heat. There's a nice cleavage now and it's hard to take my eyes off the beads of moisture sliding down between her breasts. She catches me looking a few times and makes light of it.

"Carlos," she purrs. "It's so hot that I think I'll sleep on top of my blanket tonight." Then with a wink she adds, "Probably in the nude, so I stay cool."

"Ttt..hats a good idea," I stammer, images of her naked body racing through my brain. "I'll do the same."

"Ohh.... Will your door be locked?" she teases.

"Definitely not! Come on over... join me!" I grin.

There! I've said it. I need her so badly tonight that it's burning me up.

"Not locked?" she whispers seductively. "But mine will be, so don't try to come in." Then she laughs and slaps her hand down on my knee. "Poor Carlos. He'll have to go to those chicas across the street if he wants to get laid, eh."

She drains the last of her beer, while I seethe. Then she bends over and playfully kisses my cheek.

"I'm going to bed now.... Alone."

Then a little peck on the other side.

"My friend, sleep well- in your own room."

What a cock tease!

The steamy night is alive in tropical Manaus. I hear the latch slide closed on Elena's door, so I know for sure that I'm not welcome in her bed. I'm stretched out naked on top of mine to cool down in the faint breeze coming through the window that opens to the street. It's warm and damp, but at least it is moving.

Night sounds come through my window. There's music pounding from the bar, the beat and male laughter conjuring up images of writhing women stripping for the drunken crowd. I can almost see their sultry bodies, ready to take any man who is ready to pay up to their tiny rooms. Should I go over there now? I doubt that I'll be able to fall asleep.

Now there are other sounds. Below my window I hear a familiar voice in the night.

"Hey Mister Sagres! Come down. I ready for you."

Then she tries again.

"I bring friend to fuck too. OK?"

Yes, I'd like that right now. I know she's a good-looker and the offer is very tempting. But I've never had to pay for sex before and I'm not about to start.

Still, there's a problem- my cock is ready for action. Is it what I hear from below that's got me going this steaming night in Manaus? Most likely it's Elena naked on her bed.

There's only one way I can deal with this to get to sleep.

And it won't take long the way I feel tonight.

If you liked this, you might enjoy my six-part series about Jaguar as tour guide called "Andean Experience" in the Non-Erotic category. Meanwhile, please rate this new "Confrontation" segment before you go. The twelve-part story is written, and there'll be a new piece coming out regularly Thanks.