Canyon of the Sphinx (42 page)

He lifted a threatening eyebrow
at her. “Who has more experience with this kind of thing, you or me?”

“You.”

“Then give me the pick.”

“Make me.”

Much to the delight of the UIR
students, Marcus picked her up over his shoulder and carried her, squealing,
out of the hole. It was as animated as they had seen the intimidating Dr.
Burton since his arrival. He gave his wife a good shake.

“Give it to me, Kathlyn,” he said
warningly.

“No!”

He shook her again and spun her
around a couple of times until she screamed. “Okay, okay,” she pleaded. He
stopped and set her down. She staggered a bit and he held out his hand. She
shook it as if she was just meeting him for the first time. Laughing with
terror at his expression when he realized that she wasn’t going to hand it
over, she bolted off and hid behind Debra Jo.

 “Hey, don’t use me as a shield,”
the red-head warned. She had Marcus’ notebook from his trip into the Temple of
Blood and was typing information onto an iPad. “Get away from me. I don’t want
to get caught in the crossfire.”

Marcus truthfully hadn’t moved a
step. He stood there, watching his wife toy with him, laughing at her in spite
of himself. He was just glad she was feeling better from her earlier bout. When
the woman was in high form, she could charm the scales off a snake. She was
openly flirting with him in front of dozens of strangers, but he didn’t care.
She had worked harder than any of them and deserved the chance to let loose a
bit. He wouldn’t have tolerated it from anyone but her.

“Fine,” he turned to the pit.
“I’ll get my own.”

Adam was in the hole, smiling as
he handed Marcus a couple of options on excavation instruments. After a brief
consultation, Marcus knelt down beside Adam and listened to the man as he
explained what he thought he saw. Then, soft pieces of earth began to pelt
Marcus in the back. After the fourth clod hit him in the neck, he turned to see
his wife sitting at the edge of the pit, sticking her tongue out at him and
throwing dirt.

“Stop or you’ll be sorry,” he
warned her.

She just smiled. She was so
beautiful and impish. He jabbed a finger at her. “I’m serious. Stop.”

He turned back to the skeletons
and Adam resumed his speculation. A body suddenly landed next to him and he felt
hot breath in his ear.

 “What’s the matter, Burton?” she
murmured. “Can’t take it anymore?”

He tried to ignore her, a smile
playing on his lips. But in truth, her lips against his ear were driving him
crazy. She was almost giddy, recovering her spunk and humor to the point of
being punchy. He’d seen her get like this, especially when she was extremely
tired. And he knew that today had been very tiring.

Kathlyn knew he was ignoring her.
She blew softly in his ear again. “You can’t hold out forever,” she whispered.
“I know you too well. Just give in. Give in to me and tell me you’re sorry for
trying to steal my pick.”

He drew in a long, steadying
breath. “It’s not your pick.”

“It was in my hand.”

He was at his limit. It was
mid-afternoon; half of his team was back at camp and they’d already had a long
day. Kathlyn was bouncing off the walls; she needed to eat and get a good
night’s sleep. He handed Adam back the un-used instruments.

“Thank you for your attention,
Dr. Levine, but I think Dr. Trent has had it for the day.”

He turned on Kathlyn so fast that
she only had time to scream before he was throwing her over his shoulder again.
Marcus ignored her demands to be put down as he passed by Debra Jo.

 “Get Mark,” he said to the
red-head. “Meet us back at camp, but make sure you are properly escorted.
Okay?”

She nodded, smirking as Marcus
carted Kathlyn off across the overgrown area of the courtyard. Debra Jo watched
Kathlyn struggle and listened to her laugh. It was good to see. She went back
to her IPad, wondering if she’d ever have anything so good. There were times
when it made her jealous.

Marcus put her down by the time
they neared the path. Kathlyn was flushed, grinning, as she took an off-balance
swing at him. He grabbed her hands, turned her around, and threw her in a bear
hug. This time, his lips were by her ear.

 “Okay, Crazy,” he muttered in
her ear. “I’m not going to walk the entire distance back to camp doing battle
with you. Truce?”

She nodded but didn’t speak. He
continued to walk with his arms wrapped around her body, somewhat awkward for
someone of his height. But she was sweet and soft and warm in his grasp and he
didn’t want to let her go just yet. His lips were near her head and he ended up
kissing her temple, her cheek, making his way down her neck. When her flesh was
near, it was all he could do to control himself.

Kathlyn moaned softly, with
pleasure, as he suckled gently on her shoulder.

“I am glad to see you are feeling
better,” he murmured.

“Much better,” she sighed. “So
did you bring me over here to nibble on my neck or did you bring me over here
to calm me down?”

He grinned, turning her around to
face him. “What do you think? You weren’t going to let me get any work done.”

She took his hand, leading him up
on the path. “We’ve worked hard enough on this site. You’re leaving in a day.
I’d like to spend some time alone with you before you go.”

“Ah,” he lifted his eyebrows in
understanding. “So all of that back there was to get me alone?”

“Yes.”

“It worked. Now that we’re alone,
what are you going to do about it?”

She laughed. “Take you into the
jungle and ravage you. What else?”

He picked up the pace. “Let’s go,
then.”

Like a couple of kids, they
worked their way up the path until it disappeared into the jungle. But they
hadn’t made it out of earshot before they heard shouting back down on the site.
It sounded panicked. They paused a moment in their play, listening to the
distant shouts. Curious, they edged back down the path so they could see what
was happening.

Everyone in the pit seemed to be
leaping out, racing to the southwest, towards the canyon of the sphinx. Kathlyn
took a few steps down the trail, closer to the action, straining to hear what
was being said.

“What are they saying?” Marcus
said. “I can’t understand them.”

Kathlyn shook her head. The
workers were speaking too quickly. But then she caught wind of something
ominous.

“Oh, God,” she murmured, turning
to look at her husband. “It sounds like Chris has been hurt somehow. They’re
screaming for help.”

Marcus took off at a dead run
with Kathlyn close behind. The canyon was a good quarter mile to the south of
them, but they reached it in nominal time. Adam was already there, as was
Kimberly and Mark. Debra Jo was in the distance, closing fast.

When Kathlyn and Marcus got
there, everyone was standing in a circle, staring at the ground. They pushed
their way forward, terrified at what they might find. The only sight that
greeted them was a bloody spot, about two inches in diameter, and Christopher’s
bloody baseball hat.

Marcus seemed to be the only one
able to think coherently. He began looking around urgently.

“Where is he?” he demanded. No
one could demand better than Marcus Burton. “Did anyone look in the bushes?
Everyone, spread out!”

They rushed to do his bidding,
scattering like frightened children. Kathlyn, however, was sickened at the
site; she knelt down, running her fingers over the bloody spot. She touched the
hat, picking it up and holding it. Her throat tightened with tears. Debra Jo
ran up and practically collapsed beside her.

“Oh, my God!” she gasped. “What
happened? Where is he?”

Kathlyn turned to her friend. “I
don’t know what happened,” she said. “Everyone is looking for him now.”

Debra Jo shot to her feet,
bordering on panic. Kathlyn stood next to her, grabbing her by the arms. “Deb,
slow down. You have to be calm. We need to look for Chris and freaking out
isn’t going to accomplish anything. Okay?”

Debra Jo had tears in her eyes,
but she managed to keep her control. “Okay,” she whispered. “Do you think the
bandits got him?”

“I don’t know.” Kathlyn pulled
her in the direction Marcus had taken. “Come on; let’s find Marcus.”

They found Marcus, about a
hundred feet into the jungle. People everywhere were calling Christopher’s
name, smashing through leaves and branches. Marcus was standing still,
listening, thinking. He was clearly distressed.

“Who was the last person to see
him?” Kathlyn asked her husband. “Did you ask anyone?”

He shook his head. “I was the
last one to see him, I think. I talked to him right before I came over to the
courtyard site. He was looking for his glasses.”

She thought a moment. “That was
less than a half hour ago. Do you think he was kidnapped?”

“Possibly. I’m no cop, but that’s
what it looks like to me.”

 “Then whoever has him couldn’t
have gotten that far in a half hour.”

“True, but we don’t know which
direction he was taken, if he was even taken.”

“What do you mean if?”

He just looked at Kathlyn,
implying things she didn’t want to hear. Perhaps Christopher was lying dead
somewhere, just out of their line of site. Marcus sighed heavily, stepping out
once more into the jungle.

“I need Tony,” he muttered.

Kathlyn didn’t need to be told
twice. It wasn’t one of her smarter moves, but she took off running for the
path that led back to the campsite. Tony, Otis and the kids had about a
forty-five minute head start. She’d run an hour before. She could do it again.

***

“Estúpido! ¡Usted obtuvo la
injusticia uno!”

Jensen waved the porcelain Glock
around like a club. She yelled at the four villagers who had just deposited a
blond American male on her dirty floor. Her Spanish was fluent thanks to her
mother’s side of the family. She stood over Christopher, ripping off the hood
that the villagers had thrown over his head. She noticed the blood on the back
of his head, trickling from an ear. With a grunt of frustration, she rolled him
onto his back.

Christopher’s eyes were open, but
he was dazed. His ears were ringing and could hear people all around him,
speaking very fast Spanish. It was angry, frantic. Tension filled the hazy
space of his mind.

The light was blinding and his
head was killing him. But he knew what had happened. Fifteen years of luck in
the jungles of Central America had finally run out. The rebels had him.

“Yo no tengo dinero,” he said.
“Soy un científico.”

A woman came into his view. She
was pretty, pale-skinned, with dark auburn hair. She knelt down beside him,
inspecting the back of his head. Then she untied his wrists, removing the
scratchy, wet rope.

“Don’t try to move,” she said in
perfect English. “You’ve got a pretty good knot on the back of your head.”

Christopher blinked at her. She
didn’t look like any rebel he had ever seen. “Who are you? What happened?”

She smiled, ironically. “A
mistake happened.”

“Come again?”

“Never mind.” She looked up at the
dark, native faces standing around her. “Usted idiotas. Dije al arqueólogo
Americano grande. ¿Quién es este tipo?”

One man standing near her,
heavy-set and older, pleaded. “El es el Americano grande que usted quiso. El es
el arqueólogo.”

The woman barked at him. “No,
esto no es el uno yo quise. ¡Quise Burton!”

“Dr. Burton?” Christopher
repeated. “What do you want him for?”

The woman looked at him. She
hadn’t realized he was fluent in Spanish, but working down here in the jungles
of the Yucatan, perhaps she should have. A thought suddenly occurred to her and
she frowned with the comprehension.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Dr.
Murphy, would you?” she asked.

He eyed her. His head was
clearing, but it was still throbbing. “Who wants to know?”

The woman sighed heavily, as if
she was disgusted with something, or someone. She stood up, calming, but her
frustration was nonetheless evident. “Just how much of our conversation did you
just understand?”

He tried to sit up. The world
rocked a little, but he steadied himself. Putting his hand to the back of his
head, it came away with coagulated blood.

“Terrific,” he said dryly. He
looked at the woman. “I understood all of it, but I still don’t understand why
I’m here. Do you mind telling me what in the hell is going on?”

She sat down on an old, worn
chair. Christopher looked around, noticing that it looked like a cheap motel
room. It was dirty, dingy, with old fabric blinds covering the windows. He
wished he knew where he was. Looking at the native faces surrounding him, he
recognized a couple. They were workers on his site. When he met their gaze, the
men looked away, ashamed, scared. Christopher was thoroughly confused.