The Uncharted Tales

Chapter 20

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Amidst the shuffling chaos of Roman snapping orders to move their operation, Sully found himself piled in one of the three motorboats with the crime lord and Navarro, along with the rest of the small battalion. They navigated the avenues long since sunken deep underwater to their next destination – the customs house – and Roman occasionally pressed him for anything he might know regarding what Nate had discovered. Sully answered each and every query as honestly as he could muster. It wasn't as though he knew much more than what information they had already gathered themselves.

In any case, even if he did know more, he wasn't about to sell Nate out again. His only mission, as of now, was to do anything in his possible power to give the kid a head start. Besides, there was no way in Hell he could ever find El Dorado, if the damned idol even existed, so all he could hope was that Nate would find him long before they decided they were finished with his deceitful lies. That was assuming the kid wouldn't find El Dorado first and Roman wouldn't keep his promise of ending Sully's life...

For the time being, there was no point in dwelling on what if's. He was a man of action, and he would do whatever necessary with what he had to work with, and for now that was reading up on Nate's long lost ancestor's personal diary. Right. He wasn't particularly inclined to test the waters further with Roman, anyhow, so he dutifully began flipping through Sir Francis's journal entries. Oh boy. He was going to have a headache at the end of this.

When Nate had the journal, back on the mainland, Sully had seen very few glimpses of the deceased explorer's possession, and now it was all laid bare before him. His odds of deciphering coded messages were no better than Roman and Navarro's, but unlike them he didn't have a choice. His very freedom was on the line, and so was Nate's life, for that matter. It didn't help most of his attention was drawn away to their next destination, and he could feel Navarro's eyes burrowing into the side of his head.

At the very least, Roman left him to work in peace when he wasn't cross-firing Sully with impromptu interrogations. Well, relatively speaking. Gabriel was still on edge, even more so with the cacophony of gunshots ringing some ways off. Nate was still out there, but a small part of him shriveled up whenever the jungle fell silent, with him wondering if, this time, a bullet found its mark and ended the kid's life. Ensuing battles off in the distance was his only motivator; so long as they kept shooting, it meant there was still a chance for the both of them.

Upon reaching the customs house, putting a pause to Sully's fruitless research, they climbed out of the docked boats and onto the stone slab entrance. He allowed himself a moment to marvel at the structure around him as they entered inside – the customs house was in much better condition than the rest of the ghost town they had just left behind. It was a testament to the dedication the settlers of the island had to building a hidden utopia, but, once again, he had to wonder what in the world happened to cause the destruction of the abandoned city behind them.

Damnit. If only Nate were here. Smartass probably has it all figured out by now.

While the soldiers followed Roman's orders to scour the vast collection of ledgers and old documents, Sully tucked himself away on the other end of the room, rubbing at his temples as his eyes skimmed over Drake's very own handwriting. He was utterly at a loss. It wasn't as though every single passage possessed a hidden meaning – as far as he could see, anyway – but his notes and sketches were beyond his comprehension. Between him and Nate, Sully had never been particularly inclined towards this side of the business they dealt with. Sully's skills aligned more with deception and smooth-talking, and all these years he had depended on Nate's expertise to lead them to more elusive treasures. Never before was it so prevalent he was well beyond his depth.