Authors: Michelle Gagnon
“Maybe not. Stefan could have stumbled across something in his research.”
“All right.” Rodriguez sounded dubious, but he moved across the floor, scuffing up small clouds of dust with his shoes. Kelly moved along the opposite wall, scanning the floor for any discrepancies.
They met at the far side of the room. “Nothing,” Rodriguez said, mystified. He thought for a moment. “I saw something on the Discovery Channel last month, about a temple in Pacal. There were four stone plugs in the floor and a hidden stairway underneath that led eighty feet down. No plugs here, though.”
“There are these.” Kelly went to the nearest inset in the wall. It was shallow, no more than a foot deep. Inside lay a stacked skeleton with a head on top.
“That’s odd.” Rodriguez pointed to the skull. “A dog?”
“A wolf,” Kelly said, recognition dawning. The first time she’d encountered Stefan, he’d been enthralled by a wolf myth. Finding a wolf skeleton here had to be more than coincidence.
“Is there anything beneath it?” Kelly reached her hand in, sifting through the bones.
“I bet you just messed up decades worth of research,” Rodriguez said. She drew her hand back out. “Anything?”
Kelly shook her head, frustrated. Her eyes shifted to the candle. It waved back and forth, sending a stream of oily smoke back toward the tunnel. She frowned.
“What is it?”
“The candle should be flickering the other way, from the wind coming in the doorway.”
“Huh.” Rodriguez ran his hands along the mural opposite the door. Stopping, he licked his palm, then held it up. “It’s coming from here,” he said.
Kelly came to stand at his shoulder. The mural they faced portrayed an exotic beast with an elaborate tail and glowering eyes. She bent to examine it. The eyes weren’t painted on: they were small holes, drilled straight through the chamber’s rock wall.
“Well, he didn’t fit through those,” Rodriguez said.
“You remember anything else from that special?” Kelly asked.
“God, I was half asleep…” Rodriguez ran a hand over his face. “They were talking about how the Aztecs might have used sound, some sort of harmonic thing.”
“Like music?” Kelly said.
“Yeah, the rocks were tuned to a specific frequency. Or something like that.”
“I didn’t hear Stefan making any sounds.”
“Some of them were beyond human perception, like dog whistles.” Danny shrugged at her skeptical look. “Hey, you asked. I wasn’t the one who made it up.”
“How the hell did he get out of here?” Kelly said, frustrated.
“I have an idea.” Rodriguez slung the backpack off his shouldert it’ll probably get us both arrested again.”
“What is it?”
Rodriguez unzipped the pack and dug through it. After a second, he withdrew a beige brick and held it up for her to see. “I snagged this from Uncle Pablo.”
“Is that C4?” Kelly asked.
“Yup. Your call, Chief. Is this guy worth making us enemies of the Mexican state, and archaeologists everywhere?”
Jake raced to his brother’s side. Mark lay on the ground, completely still. Jake rolled him over and checked for a pulse: it was there, but barely. Streams of blood ran down his cheeks. More flowed from cuts along his arms and legs. Pieces of wood and shrapnel jutted out from the tattered remains of his Kevlar vest. Jake tugged at the Velcro sides, trying to get it off, but Syd stopped him.
“We don’t know if any shrapnel penetrated,” she said. “The vest might be the only thing keeping him from bleeding out.”
Jake swiped a hand across his forehead. Isabela was a few feet away, deep in discussion with one of her men. “Hey!” He stood abruptly and shoved the guy aside, getting in her face. “You got a doctor here?”
“Field medic,” she said. “He’s looking over our man first.”
The guy Mark had been carrying lay a few feet away. One of the army soldiers was tightening a tourniquet around his leg. “Well, he just dropped into second place.”
Isabela’s eyes narrowed. “Garcia was imprisoned here for months. He’s been shot.”
“And my brother saved him. Now call over that medic.”
Her jaw tightened, but after a second she barked an order. The medic trotted over to Mark’s side. Jake took a knee beside him, watching the shallow rise and fall of his brother’s chest.
The medic checked Mark’s vitals, then probed a few of the larger pieces of shrapnel with his hands. He looked up and met Jake’s eyes. It didn’t take a translator to tell what he was thinking.
Jake yelled for Isabela. She approached warily.
“Where’s the nearest hospital?” he asked.
“Fifty miles away.” She eyed Mark. “But the one in Mexico City is better equipped for this sort of trauma. That is where we are sending Garcia.”
“Take Mark, too.”
“We are in the middle of an operation—”
“Our team can help with the cleanup,” Jake said forcefully. “Now do the right thing by Mark. You owe him.”
Isabela said something to the medic. He rattled off a reply. A shadow crossed her face. “Mario says he probably would not survive the journey,” she said. “It would be a wasted trip.”
“You don’t know my brother,” Jake said. “Now load him on the chopper.” cocked her head to the side. “I really am sorry, but I do not have the authority to do that. My first responsibility is to my men. I can make sure that Mark is loaded on the next trip, but we have other casualties.”
“Please,” Jake said. “You can save him.”
Isabela hesitated, then called over two of her men. They approached the stretcher. “Your people will stay as long as we need them,” she said sharply. “And they will follow my orders.”
“You got this?” Jake turned to Syd.
“Sure, partner. I got this.” She squeezed his shoulder. “He’s going to be okay.”
Jake didn’t answer. He wrapped his arms around Syd and drew her to his chest. Then he trotted after the stretcher.
“The buses will be arriving shortly,” Isabela said. “You will help me load the former prisoners on, make sure none of the Zetas try to join them.”
“Got it,” Syd said, but her eyes were focused on the chopper as it lifted off the ground and ascended into the night sky.
Flores turned into the parking lot, bringing the Hilux to a stop in front of Room 12. He drew a deep breath. After everything that had happened in the past few days, this tranquil motel with adobe walls shedding white paint seemed surreal. It was going to take a while for normal to seem normal again.
“I got to piss like a racehorse,” Decker announced, throwing open the door and stepping out.
Beside him, Calderon stretched his arms up, face splitting in a grin. “Strange, isn’t it? I can’t wait for a shower, amigo.”
“I bet.” Flores got out and went around to the back of the truck. He grabbed a wool blanket and spread it over the truck bed.
It took a second to realize that Calderon had followed. His eyes narrowed as he took in the boxes. “What are these?”
Flores shrugged. “Don’t know. But some of it looks like ordnance, probably better to keep it covered.” As he tucked the blanket around a box in the far corner, he discreetly swept the Tyr folder beneath it.
“Perhaps we should—”
“Cesar!”
A small man whom Flores recognized as Calderon’s subordinate burst out the door of Room 14. “Thank God you’re all right!”
Calderon extended his arms. “Linus, my friend. Good to see you.”
“Yes, well…” Linus’s nose wrinkled. Rather than a hug, he awkwardly patted Calderon’s outstretched arms.
Calderon laughed. “I smell that bad?”
“No, of course not. Well…let’s get you inside. You can shower in my room. I have a change of clothes, too. They might be a little…”
Flores leaned against the bumper, listening to their voices recede. The door to Linus’s room shut behind thema moment, Decker came to join him.
“Here.” Decker tossed him an energy bar. Flores tore open the package with his teeth and devoured it. “I got more where that came from,” Decker said. “Or we can head down the road, it’s early but maybe that taco place will open up if we ask nicely.”
“We’d have to take Calderon,” Flores said.
“Yeah, and Smiley. Why? What’s eating you?”
“There a computer here I can use?”
“Sure. Wireless is spotty, though.” The door to Room 12 remained ajar. Decker led him inside and directed him to a Toughbook perched on a table in the corner. “Help yourself.”
Flores dug the flash drive out of his pocket and stuck it in the USB port. Before he clicked on it, he paused. “You might not want to hear this,” he warned Decker.
“That’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull,” Decker snorted. “Play it.”
After another second of hesitation, Flores opened the file.
“I was just starting to panic,” Smiley called over the sound of the shower. “There’s a board meeting scheduled this Friday.”
“Don’t worry, Linus. We’ll be ready for them.”
“I hope so. They’ll have some tough questions. I was thinking that in light of everything that’s happened, some restructuring might be in order.”
Calderon shut off the tap. The water had been lukewarm, but after months without bathing, it had felt as luxurious as a Roman bath. “What kind of restructuring?”
“It was a bitch finding you, Cesar. And damned if anyone in the government down here had a clue. I couldn’t even figure out who to call. It occurred to me that maybe we should have more cross-departmental involvement. Make sure the Central America guys know something about what’s going on in the East Asia department. That sort of thing.”
Calderon repressed a flash of irritation as he dried off. “I’m too tired to discuss business, Linus.”
“Of course. Maybe on the flight home. I chartered a plane, once the rest of the team gets back we can—”
“I’m anxious to get home.” Calderon appeared in the doorway. Linus’s clothes were almost comically small on him. He rubbed his hair with a towel as he continued. “By now Brown has everything well in hand. They can follow us on another flight tomorrow. I expect to leave in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Smiley said, chastened. His neck flushed red as he moved about the room gathering up his things.
A knock at the door, then Decker opened it. “We’re gonna grab some chow down the street.”
“Actually we’re leaving in a few—”
“All due respect, sir, it’s been days since I had a decent meal. And the airport is five hours away, easy. I ll my gut to make that drive.”
“Very well,” Calderon said, peeved. “But make it quick.”
“Can’t leave you alone, sir, not with Zetas still running around out there. You’d best come along.”
Calderon was about to argue, then thought better of it. “I could use a good meal,” he said. “Linus?”
“Of course.”
The three of them headed out into the night. After a second, the truck door closed and Flores fell in step with them.
“Be good to have a hot meal, eh, amigo?” Calderon said. “Not like last night.”
Flores didn’t answer.
The other motels flanking the narrow road were dark, their neon signs still. Without them on, the surrounding jungle seemed closer, as though it was on the verge of opening a dark mouth and swallowing them whole. Smiley cleared his throat. “Must be the off season,” he said.
“Mexico’s too dangerous for tourists these days. Hell, you could even get kidnapped,” Decker joked.
Flores laughed sharply. They continued in silence, until Calderon said, “What was your name again, soldier?”
“Decker. Rodney Decker.”
“I’ll make sure you get a promotion when we get back to headquarters, Rodney.” Calderon scratched his neck. “Funny, the bug bites feel worse after a shower than they did before. What I’d do for some Calamine.”
“We might be able to get some at the airport,” Smiley said.
Calderon took in their surroundings. “This is almost as remote as the camp.” He shook his head. A few hours ago, his sole priority had been staying alive. Now he was already burdened by the thought of meetings, conference calls and the myriad responsibilities awaiting him. In an odd way, his captivity had provided a respite from all that.
“What’s so funny?” Decker demanded.
“Oh, nothing. I just have a lot to do when I get home.” Calderon waved a hand dismissively.
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Decker examined him. “When they asked you to cut a deal and sell out clients, you said no, right?”
“Please,” Smiley snorted. “That’s really—”
Calderon looked Decker dead in the eye. “Of course I said no. That’s why they kept me so long without demanding a ransom.”
“Huh.” Decker dropped his gaze back to the road. It was becoming increasingly overgrown the farther they went from the motel.
A ribbon of fear spiraled up Calderon’s spine. He was a good liar, renowned for spouting convincing fallacies during a hostage negotiation. But he got the sense that the man beside him wasn’t falling for the act.
“Last case I worked for you was a tough one. Little girl got snatched and killed,” Decker finally said. “Jennifer Esp”
Decker nodded. “I was the first one in the room, right after they pulled the trigger. We killed the bastards, but still…” He shook his head. “It got to me, you know? Pretty little girl. Shouldn’t have died that way.”
“Yes, well. It’s a dangerous country,” Smiley said.
“Her father was a client?” Flores interjected. He’d slipped behind them.
“The company he worked for was.” Calderon cleared his throat. “How much farther is this place? Perhaps there’s some food back at the motel. Then we could just get on the road.”
“Here’s the thing I don’t get,” Decker said, ignoring the question. “I talked to the girl’s bodyguard, and he said the reason the Zetas took them by surprise was that somehow they had the alarm code. How do you figure they got that?”
“Alarm company, maybe? I honestly don’t know.”
Decker shook his head. “Nope. It was a rotating code. He said the only people who knew it were the Espositos, him and one other guy. Tyr set it up. And the bodyguards seemed straight to me.”
“What are you insinuating?” Linus asked sharply.
“Nothing.” Decker jerked his head toward a dirt trail leading away from the main road. “It’s that way.”
Calderon was hyperconscious of Decker and Flores behind him as they followed the trail. The trees reached together overhead, forming a dark canopy.