You may have read that my mother was a member of os protetores da lua and that she was posing as a guide to throw my father off the scent of the Moon City. That is true. You may have also heard that she and my father were supposedly lovers (I came from somewhere, after all), but that perhaps he was merely tricking her to get information.
Assuming you know all that, then to answer your questions, seeing as my father has managed to evade the authorities and I’m writing this article revealing his identity, I’ll probably never know the truth because he’ll probably never speak to me again. I’d like to think my father isn’t pure evil, though, so unless and until he confirms otherwise, I choose to believe that at least some part of him cared for her for more than the secrets she kept.
So what about all of the other players in Pierre Vautour’s web? Dr. Bradley Quinn, Hunter Johnson, etc.? Where are they now?
Well, Dr. Bradley Quinn is off living in some remote cabin in middle-of-nowhere Saskatchewan, excommunicated fromthe archaeological world. Hunter Johnson got away, and if the universe is at all fair, then he’s probably rotting somewhere alone in the Amazon. The other gang of criminals are getting to know Brazilian prison up close and personal.
As for my father, Jean-Luc Monfils is dead. To me at least. But Pierre Vautour? Who knows where he is. Now that people outside of the criminal underworld know what he looks like, however, he’s bound to get found someday. Or maybe he’ll have to live in hiding for the rest of his life, never having to pay for his crimes or the pain he’s caused. An unfair punishment in an unfair world. But I’m of the personal opinion now that not all that is lost needs to be found.
Did you really find the Cidade Perdida da Lua? And if so, where is it?
Believe me. The Cidade Perdida da Lua exists. We have proof if we ever truly need it.
But are we going to tell you where it is?
No fucking way.
TheGlobal Geographyeditor inchief, Luca Chibonelli, set the paper down, then removed his reading glasses as he looked across his desk at Rafa on the other side of the Zoom screen.
“Hmm…well, it’s not so much aGloGeopiece as it is a human-interest story, but it’s entertaining as hell. You know I can’t print this, though, right? Not inGloGeo,” he said.
“I know,” Rafa said.
“Then what am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, lifting the pages.
Rafa shrugged. “Do whatever you want with it. My assignment was to accompany the expedition to the Moon City and write an article about it. That’s what I did.”
“Well, I’m not quite sure it counts as an article. And when you asked for time off to write and to recuperate after what had happened in the Amazon, I didn’t think this was what you’d give me after seven months.”
“I’m sorry if it’s not up to your standards, but I’m sure you can understand that my life has essentially been turned upside down. It’s a little hard to focus after finding out your father is a wanted criminal who’s been lying to you your entire life. But I met the terms of my employment contract. If you don’t want the piece, then I’m posting it on my social media tomorrow.”
Mr. Chibonelli chuckled to himself. “You’ve got balls. So what’s with Silva?”
“It was my mother’s surname. I think my reasons for changing it are probably self-explanatory after reading that,” Rafa said, pointing at the papers on the other side of screen.
Mr. Chibonelli nodded, tapping his fingers on his desk. “So, is all of this true?”
“Every last word.”
Mr. Chibonelli’s mouth pursed, and he nodded, taking it all in. “Gun fights and ancient protectors, huh?”
“Yep.”
“And you have proof?”
“I do.” Rafa gave a single nod.
“What sort of proof?”
“I have photos that are tucked away for safekeeping. Photos of the Moon City. Of os protetores da lua. Photos of a room in the main temple full of riches beyond your wildest imagination.And the medallion. The investor has that, though. Os protetores da lua agreed to let us take it if we helped protect the city.”
“You know, to lend credibility to your piece, you should include a few of those photos.”
“Absolutely not,” Rafa said, folding his arms and leaning back. “I swore to os protetores da lua that I won’t use those photos unless I have to.”
“And you don’t think preserving your credibility is one of those moments where you have to?”
“No, sir, I don’t. I honestly couldn’t care less if people don’t believe me.”
