Confrontation Ch. 09: Die in Lisbon

The window view is alarming as TAP Air Portugal flight 172 by way of Rio de Janeiro makes its final descent into Lisbon's international airport! We're skimming the apartments just below the plane, and passing much too close for comfort.

We jam our eyes shut and mumble silent prayers.

Several agonizing seconds later, the wheels bite into the runway and the roar of the reverse thrust jerks us forward. Reprieved! We taxi to a halt and then are transferred to the terminal building on a crowded bus. Elena and I have arrived in Portugal, the first time either of us has been here.

Before long, a taxi has taken us to a district of small, comfortable hotels along the eastern edge of downtown, in the shadow of old castle fortress Sao Jorge. This will be our home base as we delve deeper into the complex web of the syndicate smuggling ancient treasures out of Peru.

Elena is Head of Special Collections at the National Archaeological Museum in Lima, and knows Peruvian antiquities like the back of her hand. This is important to our investigation, and complementary to my experience as a private investigator.

We've worked together before, but this trip is different, now that we're lovers. Neither of us expected this to happen. The feeling is fantastic.

"Which side of the bed do you want, Carlos?" she asks me sweetly.

"Whatever one you're on, baby."

I hug her close. Elena pulls me tight and kisses me hard on the mouth with her succulent lips.

"Do you want to see which side we like best?" she whispers temptingly.

I respond quickly by releasing the zipper behind her top and unclasping her bra. I pull the garment forward and down her arms with no resistance. Two beautiful breasts demand my attention.

So, I bring my fingers to the big nipples that cap them. There's more kissing as I play, making them swell to mouthwatering size. Elena moans, loving this kind of stimulation.

Then her hands are at my trousers, unbuttoning them and releasing my zipper! My cock is hard and as it springs free she wraps one hand around it and strokes firmly. Now I'm groaning and can think of nothing but loving this adorable lady.

My Elena has changed my lonely life, and brought sunshine into dark places. I'm infatuated and can't make love with her enough!

Soon we're testing out the bed, giving it a real workout. The springs are squeaking, then the headboard begins to tap against the wall in time with my thrusts into her willing body.

Her strong legs circle my waist as I plunge and withdraw, drive forward and draw back. Elena literally hangs from me, arms around my back, driving her wet pussy against my cock. The squishing sounds add to our heavy breathing.

It's early afternoon. There's an investigation to start, but it will have to wait for now. The two of us can think of nothing other than our intense feelings for each other.

'Bang, bang, bang'. Oh, that damned headboard! But this feels too good to stop for anything. Elena is in a frenzy, heaving against me, urging me on.

"Harder, harder! More Carlos!"

She wants what I have to give to her, and I won't stop until she has all of it. We're

both losing control, almost at the crest. The ultimate moment is coming closer and closer as our eager bodies take over, driving for what they want. And then we're there!

"Carlos.... Carlos!... Oh.... Ohh.... Ohhhh!... Ughhhh!!"

Elena rides my pounding dick as a powerful orgasm overtakes her, milking me until I deliver... again and again and again. Streams of seed until there's simply nothing more left to give.

We lay together close- me still inside- as we come back down to Earth, our heavenly ride finished... for now. We both know that this bed will be sorely tested many times in the next week or so. After all, we're deeply in love. But now we need to shower together, then get to work on this case.

When my friend Jaguar and used an RTag to track a small artifact to Sao Paulo, we turned over another rock. Fernando Vila had agreed to be our agent to acquire Peruvian treasures for the National Museum. We hoped that he'd lead us closer to the top of the smuggling syndicate responsible for looting our national treasures.

Now, Elena and I are on the trail of a little Incan object tracked to nearby Cascais, an attractive oceanside resort suburb for commuters from the nearby capital city. The item turned up in an antiquities shop there. We intend to learn why it came from the office of the Peruvian trade envoy in Belem, Brazil.

"I suppose there's still time to get to that shop this afternoon, eh Carlos?" tells me it is time to get underway.

We take a taxi downtown almost to the bank of the broad Tagus River. Neither of us has been in Lisbon before and are surprised. We hadn't expected the grid of straight roads here, so different from other European capitals.

The talkative cabbie tells us about the infamous 1755 Lisbon earthquake which flattened, then burned much of the city. The Portuguese king worried so much about another one that he moved into an elaborate tent and stayed there for forty years. Meantime a brand new city was planned, surveyed and built from scratch.

We join the afternoon commuters on the Metro rail that runs west parallel to the river. About forty minutes later we're in Cascais, gawking like tourists at this pretty place, with its marina full of sailboats and expensive cruisers.

There are fine beaches lined with rental umbrellas and chairs, while trendy restaurants and shops line the streets. Among them is a brightly painted storefront simply called Coisas Antigas [Old Things]. It hardly looks like an important piece of a crime puzzle.

Inside we see an eclectic mix of old art, antique furniture, and other varied bits of the past. At first it seems that no-one is around, until a smiling saleswoman comes from the back. She certainly doesn't look like a criminal.

Her nametag says Portia, and she's a short, round woman with a big, open smile that says she likes people. Her style is Boho, with a long, print dress almost to the floor and Birkenstock sandals sticking out underneath. Long braided pigtails complete the look.

"If you see anything interesting just tell me. Everything here has a story, you know," she comments.

"Yes, I'm sure it does," Elena intones ironically.

No doubt she's thinking of P1, the small Incan piece which our GPS device traced to this address. We're both looking for it as we browse the cluttered shop. The place is a treasure trove, and had we been casual customers we might spend an hour looking at everything while Portia tells us about its provenance. But our focus is narrower than that.

"Have you anything here from the Americas?" I ask.

"That depends. Nothing English or French. Portuguese and Spanish- yes."

"Anything older? We like Indigenous art, especially pre-historical," Elena narrows it down.

"Just a few things, some of them very old. They're locked under glass over there," and she leads us toward the back of the shop.

Trailing behind her, we feel the anticipation of the hunt. Will there be an ancient Paracas burial shroud emblazoned with patterned images of the all-seeing Oculate Being? Will we see rare Nazca drinking vessels? Or will there only be the inferior quality Inca item that was tracked here?

We're both surprised and disappointed by what we see. The precious items we saw change hands at Antonio's bar in Manaus are not in the shop. Evidently they've gone someplace else. However, we spot item P1, and some other Inca bits and pieces.

Elena knows exactly what she's looking at and subtly shakes her head as if to say, "This is just junk, not worth much at all."

I point to P1 and ask Portia about it. I know how much Jaguar paid the old couple in Cuzco.

"That's an Inca piece. Came in recently, so not very many people have noticed it yet. Do you want to know more about it? Ms. E keeps notes for me to use to tell about the pieces when she's not around."

The saleswoman is quite outgoing and personable, so I decide to try my luck.

"Ms. E?"

"Echevarria. Ms. Francesca Echevarria. It's a mouthful, so I keep it simple."

The name is familiar and I think about it while Elena picks up the friendly questioning. We work as a team.

"Are you left on your own a lot?"

"Oh yes. This is more or less a hobby for her. Plenty of money. She's often away on trips to South America, or to her condo down in Lagos."

"Wherever does she manage to find things like this?" Elena probes in the guise of casual conversation.

"I have no idea. But there seem to be a steady stream of packages coming in. From all over the world, judging by shipping addresses. Her family is from Peru, so that might account for this one?"

"Interesting. What can you tell us from your notes about this one?" my love asks, and Portia reads from Ms. Echevarrias' papers.

"Late Inca period, perhaps 600 years old. Household object used in food preparation. Condition average. Highly collectable."

Elena makes eye contact with me that seems to say that she concurs with Ms. E's assessment. So I ask a follow up question.

"How much is she asking for it?"

Portia replies, and I note that the list price here is about ten times higher than what Jaguar paid in Cuzco. Now that is a hefty markup! There is evidently money to be made in the antiquities trade, a healthy profit that drives the system. I make a counter offer of half as much, knowing that it won't be accepted.

"Thank you, sir. However, I'm sure Ms. E. will not accept it. But if you offer more, I can try to contact her to see what she says. It only came in recently, so she might not be as willing to negotiate as she'd be on a piece sitting here for a long time. Would you like to see some of those?"

Elena's eyebrows shoot up. Of course she would. The saleslady locks the cabinet and takes us into the small back room. There's another locked cabinet, this one steel with deeper drawers. What treasures are inside? She finds the key on a metal ring and unlocks the cabinet.

Out comes a drawer and Elena steps back in surprise. Later, she tells me that these are more valuable things from ancient cultures that preceded the Inca empire- the Chimu, Moche, Paracas, and Nazca- peoples I'd scarcely heard of before, thousands of years back. She knows that they aren't quite museum quality, but rare and still quite expensive.

"Can I see that one more closely please?" Elena asks, barely suppressing her eagerness to see more. "What can you tell us about it?"

Portia refers to her notes.

"Small ceremonial piece from the Chimu culture, about one thousand years old. Carved wood showing a large cat, probably the jaguar god held sacred to these people. Original paint still visible in places. Good condition and highly collectible."

"That's impressive," Elena comments, even though the piece isn't good enough to be shown in Peru's National Museum. "Is it more expensive than the first one we examined?"

"Oh yes. By several times. It's older, so more valuable of course. In fact, 9 500 Euros."

"I really like it," she pretends. "Let me discuss it privately with my husband before we go any farther."

I know she is enjoying calling me her husband, and I smile because it sounds good to me too. Portia returns it to the cabinet and carefully locks it up. Then she brings us into the front of the shop. Another customer enters just then, and the two of us go to a more remote corner to confer.

"What do you think, Elena?" I whisper.

"Lots of Peruvian pieces here from different cultures. The only way so much could be on the open market like this is if they've been taken from Peru illegally. I think we've come to the end of the pipeline here, Carlos."

"But I didn't recognize the shrouds and pottery we saw in Manaus. Did you?"

"No. They were much better than what's here. The best pieces must be going someplace else."

"Or have already been sold," I suggest.

"Maybe. I'd like to track down this Ms. E. to explore the possibility that she only sells lower quality pieces here. The best artifacts would draw more money offered at some bigger venue, don't you think?"

"Like an international auction, right?"

Now Portia is back with her open smile, eager to close a sale if she can.

"So what have you decided? Do either of those pieces interest you?"

"It would be a big purchase. When will Ms. Echevarria be back so that we can talk to her some more? In the meantime, we'll read up on the Chimu piece to learn more about it."

She goes to the office and comes back with some calendar dates.

"Ms. E will be back from her Algarve condo in a week."

Again, too much information but we appreciate it. If I can identify her address in Lagos, we might be able to pay her a little visit before then. It's worth a try to find out where the best pieces are sold off. Maybe she has kept some good things for herself?

We know what needs to be done next and must be decisive, following up on this lead immediately. So, we book commercial plane tickets from Lima to Faro for tomorrow morning. This old Moorish town is in the middle of the sunny Algarve coast, so popular with British and other European tourists. From there, we'll rent a car to drive west an hour or so to Lagos. If all goes to schedule we should arrive by noon.

Using the Internet, I'm able to locate Ms. Echevarria's condo in a development perched above secluded Dona Ana Beach. If the photos do it any justice, Dona Ana must be one of the prettiest bits of sand in the western Algarve! The south-facing condominiums there step back from the huge swimming pool in recessing tiers to give everyone plenty of sun and beach views.

Nice! She probably has a sailboat docked in the nearby marina too, probably paid for with Peru's stolen treasures.

We talk about a way to get into the condo to see if she keeps any valuable pieces there. Some legal way without break and enter. Elena suggests that I might go in as a maintenance man or her as a housekeeper. We'll have to see what gambit offers the best chance of success when we get there.

I park in the Visitor area and we casually stroll the property to look for opportunity. The views are dazzling! The beach and poolside are topless areas with a great deal of toned and tanned skin shamelessly displayed, complemented by miniscule bikini bottoms. I try hard not to stare, but Elena catches me and shoots a withering glare. I wonder if the mysterious Ms. E is down there among them.

Elena a notices pairs of housekeepers going from unit to unit, all accessible from outside entrances behind private patios. When we cautiously approach Ms. Echevarria's unit, the housekeepers are busy next door.

We decide that if she isn't at home, I'll pass myself off to them as a maintenance man, inspecting the electrical panel. My Portuguese is good enough to spin a convincing story if necessary, and I'm wearing very casual clothes

Fortunately, Ms. E. Is not home and a little banter with the trusting housekeepers gets me inside for my 'inspection'. It's a beautiful condo, dazzling in fact, as eclectic as her shop in Cascais. Modern art panels contrast with old furniture and ancient pieces from past cultures.

I move from room to room supposedly inspecting the wiring while avoiding the two ladies. I'm able to take picture after picture of old artifacts large and small, knowing that Elena will be able to recognize them.

As I leave the unit, I tell the housekeepers that everything looks fine and pretend to be going to another condo. Elena is waiting in the rental car when I jump in and hand her my phone.

"Gorgeous place, baby. We should buy it. See what you think about the decor."

Her mouth opens in shock as she scans through my photos.

"Oh shit!! Look at that! And that! Paracas! Inca! Nazca! Omigod, even Chimu! More Inca. That bitch has a small museum in there! Look at that! I can't believe it!"

"The housekeepers bought the inspection thing completely."

"And now we have some hard evidence. Nobody but a multi-millionaire could afford to buy that treasure trove!"

"We've got them now!" I agree.

"Oh, Carlos. This is incredible! We can stop the flow of all these precious things out of Peru!"

Elena is clearly excited, but I'm already thinking of something else.

"Yeah, great find today! So, are we finished here? Do we have some time to go down to the beach for a while?"

"I don't have any swimwear with me."

"Neither do I. Lagos is close, so let's just buy something."

"I suppose you want me to go topless too?"

"Of course! When in Rome," I begin and she knows what I mean.

"Carlos... well... just for you. This has been such a special day!"

We go shopping and soon we're back at Dona Ana with swimwear, umbrella, towels and a foam cooler full of cold beer and wine.

The sun fills the southern sky, and there's plenty of red sand among the huge stone headland remnants dotting the beach. Seabirds spiral over the deep blue Atlantic, and little sailboats skim past farther out in the ocean. The scene is absolutely spectacular.

So is Elena. She wears both pieces of her skimpy new bikini at first, but is aware of others tanning topless. She's comparing their shapes to her own and smiling.

Before long she reaches behind her back to let the tiny piece drop to her waist. Then she stretches out on her stomach with her upper body raised by her elbows. Those beautiful breasts are suspended, their pointy tips growing with exposure.

"What do you think, Carlos?" she purrs, already knowing the answer.

"Fantastic, baby.... I only have eyes for you."

"Really? I saw you gawking when we came down to the cove. How do I measure up?"

"Magnificent, Elena. I'm going to have a hard time behaving myself here."

"I can see that you already are, my love," she grins, noting the tent which my cock has pitched in my swimwear. "Don't go down to the water like that!"

We laugh at my male predicament before she reaches over to playfully tap me there. If only we weren't out in public.

"This is a great beach, Elena," I muse. "It's too bad we only have the afternoon. Maybe we can come back to stay longer some day?"

"Yes, that would be nice, wouldn't it?"

By the time we fly back to Lisbon that evening, we're both red almost all over. I help ease Elena's discomfort by massaging her sunburned nipples with soothing aloe oil. She insists on stroking my cock with the oil too, even though it hasn't been in the sun.

One thing leads to another very quickly between lovers, and soon we're both in the throes of orgasm yet again. Between the photos of Ms. Echevarria's condo, the topless beach, and making love back in our Lisbon hotel, this has been a very successful day.

The next day we want to confer with Jaguar about what we've already found in Cascais and Lagos to see if he has any suggestions about next steps. However, there are several time zones between Lisbon and Peru, so we'll need to wait until much later in the day.

With nothing that we can go ahead with for now, we decide to go up into the historic Alfama district, an old Lisbon neighbourhood of narrow curving lanes and staircases that climb the steep hillside looming above our downtown hotel.

We lose ourselves in this quaint area before emerging halfway up the steep hill, facing the Tagus River below. An old-fashioned electric tram rattles by, grinding up the sharp incline.

We find a little outdoor restaurant overlooking the city below and settle into the rhythm of this pleasant neighbourhood. With a good bottle of port and two glasses, we're suspended between past and future. Personal secrets are revealed.

"Elena, I didn't like you at first- the way you talked about my daughter."

"I was harsh with you Carlos, and I'm truly sorry. I've never had kids. It must have been terrible for you when she died."

"Yes. Overdosed on party drugs. But I told you that already.... Although it tore my life apart, I deal with it better now. Time is a great healer, they say."