by T5 and Tobias Christopher
The airport where they landed in Uruguay proved to be a rather scruffy little place with a watchtower the size of a toilet. They all disembarked and met the heat head on like a hammer.
Danny Hearn took out a small map and said, "We have to go through customs, but I'm pretty sure that's all right."
And so the sweating team took their luggage and walked through the main building toward the guards. The one in the booth asked, "Anything to declare?"
"How about that Uruguay is a piece of sh--" Tobias Christopher began before Danny put his hand over his mouth.
"Uh, no," Danny said.
The group made its way into the small terminal, where what little luggage they brought was waiting for them.
"Now what?" Tobias asked as he grabbed his bag.
"We find a hotel," Naecken said. "Maybe get a bite to eat. Unless something comes up first, but what are the odds of that happening?"
The team checked in at the Center Plaza, just outside the airport. The small Toyota bus taxi was waiting for them to be driven to Tiatucurá.
Tobias fussed over them, making sure they hadn't forgotten anything important. And after a few attempts of levity from Danny to lighten up the trip, the bus drove away with the team sitting there in silence.
Two hours, and a few irritated heroes later, the small mining village of Tiatucurá could be seen through the now-pouring rain.
"Great!" said Tobias with a expression that told them the opposite. The village was no larger than the average hillbilly town.
The bus stopped outside the mining office, and they all ran inside. Inside, a woman who resembled Frank N. Furter, the starring role in Rocky Horror Picture Show, greeted them with a too-wide grin.
"I will take your coats, gentlemen."
"What for? This is mine," said Tobias with an evil grin.
"Don't mind him," said Naecken apologetically and gave her his coat.
She stared at him with wide eyes. "Madre mio..."
"Don't worry, he's harmless like a dog," said Danny calmly.
She hurried out of the office with their coats, and soon a man covered in jean clothes entered the room with a flair becoming an up-and-coming businessman.
"Ah, you must be the MBL Consulting operatives." He grinned, showing a row of gold teeth. "I am, of course," he said as if everyone knew, "Patrick Keith Richards the third."
"Wow!" said Naecken suddenly. The others looked at him. He was looking out the office window, where the mining machines could be seen.
"Yes, they are quiet magnificent, aren't they my dear fellow?" Richards said proudly. "In fact, the best money can buy in this hemisphere." He sat down with a troubled frown.
"Which brings us to the matter at hand."