Burr forcibly held back his rage, deciding to let it go for the sake of his plan.
For now
, he seethed in his tormented mind;
I'll be silent for now
.
“Alright, guys, calm down. Your personal feelings aside, Mr. Burr, you must admit that a discovery such as this is intriguing. It’s an important part of learning the early history of Middle Eastern culture,” Maria said, trying to diffuse the elevated emotions of the two men. “A document written by the historical Jesus would be an incredible find no matter what your views.”
“She’s right, Burr. Besides, we’ll never know if those artifacts are lost forever,” Eli said glumly. “If those mad men manage to trigger that landslide on La Palma, Simon’s treasures will be lost forever.”
“Why not go and find them now?” Burr asked, playing his hand. Eli looked at him incredulously.
“You can’t be serious,” Eli responded. “With all of Osama’s men and the island’s police looking for us, we’d be picked up in a heartbeat.”
“They won’t be looking for us on La Palma. Remember, I have a helicopter at my disposal still sitting at the airport. I can contact my pilot and have him land at a secure location close by,” he said, baiting the hook, knowing that Turner would never pass up the chance to make his discovery.
“Eli, Josh told us we should stay out of sight, remember?” Maria said.
Eli stood silently for a minute, intently thinking of the options that lay before him.
The find of a lifetime
, he thought,
and it could all be lost by tomorrow
.
I can’t let that happen.
After a long pause, Eli said, “Call your man, Mr. Burr, and tell him that we'll meet behind the square at the Palacio
de
Nava. The market will be empty today due to the upcoming festival in Santa Cruz. We can be there in fifteen minutes,” he said, picking up his hat.
“Right away, Dr. Turner,” Burr said as he headed for the phone located in the study, happy that his plans were now coming together.
“Eli, I can’t believe you are going to risk this,” Maria said in protest. “If you’re dead set on going through with this madness, then I’m going with you.”
“No, Maria, I—”
“No arguments, mister,” she retorted in a tone that told Eli not to dispute the subject anymore.
“Okay, I’m glad to have your help, but I also want you to keep an eye on
him
,” he said, motioning to Burr on the phone in the other room. “I don’t trust the man.”
“Yes, Mr. Burr,” the pilot said over the phone. “I can leave right away. The item you asked for will be in the backpack, along with the rope and gear you requested.”
“Very good,” Burr responded with a self-gratifying smile on his face. “Do you know where the old market place behind the Palacio
de
Nava in La Laguna is located?”
“Yes, sir.
I’ll look for you.” The pilot responded. “My ETA will be about thirty minutes.” Burr hung up the phone and returned to Eli and Maria.
“We’re all set,” he said smiling. “My pilot is bringing rope and some light equipment in the event that we need them. He’ll be at the pick-up point in thirty minutes.”
“Good. We should be going then,” Eli said as Maria jotted down a note on her father’s stationary.
“I’m leaving my father a note, so he’ll know our location. I don’t want him to worry if he returns and finds us gone. I’ll also leave the number for Josh’s satellite phone if he needs to reach him.”
Finishing the note, she folded it and placed it atop the antique coffee table in the library, then grabbed her windbreaker.
“I’m ready if you are,” she announced with a gleam in her eye.
“Let’s go,” Eli said as the three walked out the door and into the streets of La Laguna, never suspecting that their ill-conceived trip to La Palma would place them in the heart of the maelstrom.
21
T
he luncheon at the university dining hall had been quite elegantly prepared and stood to be an exceedingly profitable event for the university’s antiquities department.
The hearty applause finally diminished following Robert Pencor’s generous contribution of a check for a quarter of a million dollars. The donation was graciously accepted by the university president and the head of the antiquities department, Professor Carlos Santiago. In acceptance speeches on behalf of the university, the two administrators praised the benevolence of Pencor and lavished their new benefactor with adulation.
After concluding the luncheon with a rich dessert of sweet rum banana pie topped with a glazed walnut sauce, the faculty and guests indulged in conversation among themselves. Students, dressed as waiters for the event, hurried about clearing tables and serving coffee as the function now wound down to its final moments. Many of the guests began slowly making their way to the lavish garden outside of the main hall. They exited through its huge pinewood doors, cut from the trees that covered the slopes of the island.
Robert Pencor still sat at the head table. Weary of this facade, he feigned interest in a conversation with a large woman adorning big hair. She rambled on about the intricate process of preserving the mummified remains of the Guanche that were discovered on the slopes of Guimar earlier that week.
His mind was happily preoccupied with thoughts of his final retribution against the people who cost him so much. His long sought out vengeance against the United States would be satiated soon, followed by power and fortune achieved from the introduction of his Zero Point Generators.
Pencor was sipping his coffee and smiling insincerely at the annoying woman, when a lone figure approached his table and sat down across from him. Pencor gave the man a disinterested glance, and then froze as he locked onto the stranger’s blue eyes. He had seen this look before; a look that his many years of business instincts recognized as dangerous. The unfamiliar eyes held a gaze of pure determination and self-assurance that broke Pencor’s calm demeanor, but only for a moment.
“Do I know you?” Pencor asked abruptly, disengaging from the conversation with the big-haired woman. She gathered her pocket book and began saying her goodbyes to the others.
“I would assume that you’d know me by now, Mr. Pencor,” the stranger replied in a confident tone. “I’d have thought a smart guy like you would have more security
around him. Oh, but I forgot… your henchmen are all over the island looking for a bunch of poor archaeologists.”
The words caused Pencor’s armor to crack in surprise, and he now experienced something he had not felt in years: fear.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” Pencor hissed to the man seated opposite him.
“The name is Turner, Mr. Pencor, Josh Turner,” he replied. “Did you really think that we would just disappear? No, Pencor, I just wanted to tell you that your little party is going to come to an abrupt end,” Turner paused for effect. “The United States government has been warned of your twisted scheme to trigger the tsunami. As we speak, measures are being taken to put you out of business,” Turner stated, hoping the man would take the bait.
“You’re bluffing, Turner,” Pencor said, now smiling and finding his composure again. “Even in the off chance that they do know, they’ll never be able to stop us in time. Believe me, Turner, it is only a matter of time before you and your friends are caught. Your fortune thus far has been a minor nuisance, but nothing more. I am impressed that you and your little band know far more than I presumed, but it doesn’t matter, because you and your associates will be dealt with soon enough. Nothing will stop my retribution against the United States for its lack of foresight,” he said confidently.
“What you’re doing is wrong. What will be accomplished by killing so many innocent people?” Turner asked, stunned by the man’s lack of humanity.
“Be it a hundred people or a million, Mr. Turner, it’s of no consequence to me. They will pay for the irreparable damage they wrought on my industrial empire with their contrived witch hunt. Their fates were sealed at that moment as far as I’m concerned, and you coming here, Turner,
has
sealed yours as well,” he said with a malevolent grin.
“Are you that sure of yourself?” Turner said coldly, staring the man in the eyes and playing the game to its utmost. “I just wanted to let you know who is going to bring you down.” He could see the rage building in Pencor’s eyes as a waiter came up beside Pencor to serve him more coffee.
“Your being here only makes it easier for me, Turner,” he hissed as he began to reach into his jacket for his revolver. “I’ll just say that I was defending myself from a madman.”
“Don’t even think about it, amigo,” the waiter said quietly to Pencor, sliding the coffee backward to expose the barrel of the 45-automatic leveled at his head. “Though putting a piece of scum like you out of your misery would make my day,” Samuel whispered in dead seriousness as he moved behind him slowly.
Pencor froze, not knowing what to do next, and then slowly lay his hands on the table in front of him. The big-haired woman walked around the end of the table, giving Turner his opportunity to act.
He jumped up and put himself in front of the woman and Samuel followed his lead. The two quickly melted into the throng of guests, making their way outside the main hall and disappearing into the University Hall garden outside.
“I think you rattled his cage quite nicely, Josh,” Samuel said as the two men sprinted to the side of the twenty foot statue of a Guanche Chieftain. They stopped and turned to see an enraged Pencor running out of the hall and looking about the garden for his antagonists. Turner saw that he was on a cell phone; no doubt to the Yakuza escorts who had driven him to the luncheon from the helicopter pad on campus.
“Yes, you fool!” Pencor yelled into the phone. “They were just here. Find them, or else,” he hissed, shoving the phone back into his coat as the black four-door Mercedes pulled into the parking area in front of the University Hall garden.
The vehicle slowed to a stop when its driver spotted Turner and Samuel beside the Guanche statue. A bulking figure stepped out of the passenger side, smiling a toothless grin at the two as he started walking slowly towards their precarious position.
“We have to go it alone from here, Samuel,” Turner said to his friend. “You know what you have to do, right?”
“Yeah, Josh I do, but I don’t like the idea of splitting up and leaving you unarmed.”
“It’s the only way we have a chance at this, Samuel. We must split them up and then meet at the helicopter if all goes well.”
“Yeah, but what if it doesn’t?” Samuel asked.
“Don’t worry about me,” Turner said, knowing his Quechuan friend would risk his very life for him. “You just be careful and meet me at the chopper as soon as you can. Carlos said he would buy us at least a half hour. I want you to meet up with Captain Saune if I’m not there when the time comes, okay?”
“Hell, you’ll be there Josh; you’re like a bad penny,” Samuel said, smiling as he took off in a sprint for Laguna Street just outside of the campus square.
The huge Japanese man coming at them saw Samuel take off. He signaled the driver to follow with a wave of his hand, and then set his sights once again on Turner. Seeing his friend was clear and their plan might work, Turner ran in the direction of the many classrooms and lab buildings in the rear of University Hall. He had the fortune of being more agile than his pursuer, but without a weapon it would be a short reprieve in a deadly contest.
The bulking Yakuza mercenary ran at a slower pace, keeping his 9mm Glock out of the public’s view. He reached the rear of the garden just as the throngs of guests were dispersing into the parking lot. He wanted a clear shot at Turner without drawing attention, so he took his time. Osama
had told them that he wanted them either dead or alive, but to him, dead would be much more amusing.
Back at the campus hall entrance, Pencor had been side-tracked right on cue by Carlos Santiago, buying Turner and Samuel precious minutes.
“Here, my dear friend,” Carlos bellowed, offering Pencor a glass of Malvasia. “A toast to our illustrious benefactor,” he offered, raising his glass in salute.
“Yes…uh…yes,” a distracted Pencor responded. As he took a sip, he scanned the perimeter of the garden in time to see the big Japanese guard disappear behind the building. Finishing off the glass, he handed it back to Santiago saying, “Professor, my apologies, but I must be getting back to the airport right away. An important matter has come up that requires my direct attention. Do you have transportation readily available since my driver has been detained?”
“Of course, Mr. Pencor.
I understand completely,” Carlos boomed in his normally loud voice. “I’ll have Peter take you to the helicopter pad. With all this traffic from the festival, it may take a little longer, but Peter knows La Laguna quite well and can negotiate these streets very easily,” he said as he waved his arms to a small mustached man sitting on the bench along the street.
“Very well, Professor. It will have to suffice,” Pencor responded as he saw his black Mercedes disappear around the square pursuing Samuel.