A skeleton's trek

§ 5.

*FEW DAYS LATER*

"And what if I decide I won't take part in this after all?" the veteran special agent asked, riding on the passenger seat.

"When it's Death giving the orders, we obey, Mr. Hueso!" the seer replied, from behind the steering wheel.

"But won't you finally let me in on the big secret, my exact role in all this?"

"He said your only task will be what you're best at: homicide investigation. Nevertheless, I maintain my theory that the Grim Reaper's spirit is trapped inside him. All the wisdom of good old Death must reside somewhere deep within, it's just that he cannot articulate all that, yet. In any case, if he declares that the two of you must journey to Central America together, than you're most certainly indispensable in the freeing of this Prime Mover, so that the Creator's plan can resume its correct course."

"But, I mean, how on earth could I assist him in that?"

"Just leave it to him! He will guide you, once you're there."

"You think? To me, he seemed so taciturn thus far, that I'm starting to question whether he really has so much in that boney head... Am I mistaken, amigo?" he taunted him, turning back.

The skeleton traveled on the back seat of Miss Elvaira's microbus. He took the teasing with an expressionless face.

The fortune teller drove them from New York all the way to the southern shores of Florida, where a small-time drug-trafficker relative of hers awaited them.

The relative owned a small seaplane, which he utilized in his periodic trips to Central America's most renowned dope paradises, where he could obtain cocaine at the lowest prices. In a sly way, skipping airport customs, he shipped the stuff into the US, where he passed it on for ludicrous profits.

The current plan was to fly through the 1000 air-miles separating Florida from the skeleton's village of birth, land on a nearby lake, then rent a motel for as long as the investigation demands it. Once they're done with that, and the skeleton gets his closure, agent Hueso can say goodbye, and fly back to Manhattan.

Instead of a landing strip, the battered old hydroplane awaited them in a harbor. The microbus arrived after midnight. Even so, they had to be very cautious not to be spotted.

After parking near a pier, the psychic opened the spacious trunk, removed the lid of the big wooden box, then addressed Armando thusly:

"Come on, hop in!"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"This will be our little 'cargo'. The seaplane's cabin can only fit two, you'll have to travel in the luggage compartment."

"WHAT?! You're saying it's me who has to hide, not the wrestler-masked skeleton?! Isn't he the reason we proceed so stealthily, in the first place?!"

"Mr. Hueso, this is not the time for arguing! We must hurry! Later you will understand."