Human Sacrifice

by Cindy L Hull

“Where would I go? I don’t have a passport.” Brad looked at Eduardo. “Don’t they have your passport too?”

  “Poor you, with only one passport. Being bi-national has its advantages, especially when the cops are too stupid to check if I might also have American documents.” Eduardo picked up his American passport and flashed it at Brad before tucking it into his pocket.

  “How do you know they haven’t checked? How do you know they’re not sitting at the airport waiting for you?”

  “To do what? Arrest me? For what? My hands aren’t on any of those deaths. Besides, I’m not going to the Merida airport.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Again, you don’t want to know.”

  “They’ll catch up with you some day.”

  Eduardo’s face became stern. “Not unless someone tells the authorities. Remember, we have a relationship, and you have a museum.”

  Brad stammered, “If I am arrested, they’ll find out about you.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  Brad leaned forward on the bed, elbows on knees, and covered his face with his hands. “No, but I don’t know what to do.”

  Eduardo looked at his friend in disbelief. “How can you be so naïve? You brought all this on yourself.”

  “How can you say that?” Brad’s face reddened in anger. “You started it when you took advantage of my financial problems.”

  “You have selective memory, my friend. You brought those artifacts to me, remember?”

  “To show you.”

  “But you were eager to sell them. I saved you from personal embarrassment, allowed you to finance your research, helped you extricate yourself from that bitch you called a wife, and now, I have saved you again. Don’t bother to thank me.”

  “Jeannie warned me about you. She wanted me to end it and turn you in.”

  “And that would have ruined you too.” Eduardo smiled.

  “But she left me.”

  Eduardo snorted. “Good riddance.”

  Brad stood and walked over to the dresser. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing his suit, dressed for his keynote address, but his eyes, framed by his shoulder-length hair, were embedded in dark circles. He took his hair in his hands and pulled it back. Ponytail, no ponytail…God, what was he thinking? He looked at Eduardo via the mirror. “Where’s Cody?”

  Eduardo surveyed the room for anything he’d missed. “I have no idea. Is he missing?”

  “What did you do?” Brad said, turning away from the mirror.

  “Nothing.” Eduardo put on his jacket and opened the door.

  “Are you calling a porter?” Brad asked.

  “Are you stupid? While you’re delivering your speech, I’ll load my car and wait for my signal.” He motioned to Brad. “You should go. Good luck on your speech, my friend.” He held the door open, and Brad left, the statue weighed him down as if his pocket held every artifact he ever sold to his friend.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Claire picked up her pace. Earlier, she had attended, but couldn’t concentrate on, Evelyn Nielander’s talk on the Zapatista movement. Her mind had been on Brad’s threats, George’s revelations about smuggling, and her immediate need to get a print of one of the Stuart’s photographs before the luncheon.

  George had told her not to leave the hotel today, but she didn’t consider herself in danger. She couldn’t imagine Brad a serious threat, despite his words. What could he do to her? But Eduardo? Why had he offered her a job? Was he buying her silence? About what? Had Brad been involved in smuggling? Murder? Impossible…Eduardo maybe, Brad… no, Jamal…never! Her head spun as she turned into the Kodak store.

  Later, the photograph in her purse, Claire rushed into the second-floor hotel dining room, her heart beating wildly. She had missed the introductory remarks, and the participants were already eating their meals. Despite (or perhaps because of) the tragedy that marked the event, the room was abuzz with conversations.

  A large easel had been set up next to the speaker’s podium. It held a large sheet of poster board with photographs of both Tanya and Paul and the words ‘In Memoriam.’ At the head table, Brad sat with George and several others who had been part of the planning committee for the conference. Brad glared at her as they made eye contact. Claire tried to smile as if nothing were wrong, and George gave her a questioning look when their eyes met.

  Claire scanned the tables to find her group. She looked for Eduardo but remembered that he had planned to leave the conference early. Wasn’t he supposed to meet with Roberto today? The Feds were responsible for Eduardo, she told herself. He was their prey. She breathed in deeply to quiet her heart.

  She spotted Madge and Jamal seated near a side entrance to the dining room, and she weaved her way toward them. Madge had saved her a seat, and a waitress approached immediately with her lunch.

  “Where have you been?” asked Madge.

  “Photo store,” she replied, poking at her pasta salad.

  “We were worried about you,” Jamal whispered. “George told us about Brad.”

  “I’m so sorry I slipped about the notebook,” Madge whispered. “George is furious.”

  “At least I understand what Salinas knew about my past,” Jamal said. “I’m sorry I blamed you, Claire.”

  Claire could feel Brad’s presence in the room. “I think everyone is nervous and just wants to go home.”

  The room quieted as Brad approached the podium to deliver his speech on the modern Mayan experience. Brad had always been the consummate speaker, but today he stammered, and his eyes skittered around the room. He scanned the assembly, looking for someone—Eduardo? Claire tried to concentrate on the speech, but her thoughts dwelled on his words the night before. He had threatened her.

  Finally, unable to sit calmly, she opened her purse under the table, extracted the photograph that Salinas had shown to Jamal, and handed it to Madge. Brad’s lecture lurked at the back of her consciousness. Madge stared at the photograph of the man climbing the back side of the Magician’s Pyramid. She froze. She recognized the hat and the backpack, just as Claire had. Jamal took the photograph from Madge and looked at it for a second time. He glanced at Brad.

  Claire sensed a hesitation in Brad’s narrative and looked up to see his eyes locked on her. Her blood turned cold, and her mind flew in multiple directions. Finally, too nervous to sit still, she took the photo from Jamal and stuffed it into her purse. She touched Madge lightly on the arm.

  “I’m going,” she said. Claire could feel Brad’s eyes on her as she moved along the wall to the side entrance of the room. In the hallway, she took a deep breath and noticed several police officers near the door she had just exited. Around the corner, Roberto and Sergeant Garza stood at the main entrance to the dining room. Roberto approached her. Fingers shaking, she handed him the photograph.

  “I thought I recognized him when you showed the photograph to Jamal yesterday, but I wasn’t sure. I made my own copy and showed it to Madge just now. We think it’s him, but I can’t believe it,” Claire said as Roberto led her away from the door. “I hoped…” she grimaced at her choice of words, “…wanted it to be Eduardo. I could see him hurting someone, or even Cody in desperation. I didn’t want it to be Brad.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Roberto said. They heard applause and chairs shuffling through the closed doors. Roberto said, “Be careful.” He looked around. “Was Eduardo in there?” Claire shook her head.

  “His car is still here,” Salinas said and pointed to a windowed alcove away from the dining room exit. “Can you watch for him and call me if you see him leave?” He looked at Claire. “Stay away from him, promise?”

  Claire nodded. She followed his instructions and sat in a wing chair overlooking a hedge separating the pool from the parking lot. She located his car in the lot and calmed herself by watching children sp
lash in the sparkling water. Minutes later, the doors to the dining room opened and diners emerged, a flood of colorful clothing and chatter moving either toward the wide stairway leading to the lobby or the elevators across the hall.

  Madge, Jamal, and George emerged from the crowd and joined her at her look-out. In pain and disbelief, they witnessed Salinas and Garza meet Brad at the door. Salinas attempted to make their meeting casual. He smiled at Brad and made light conversation with him as they walked away from the crowd, presumably toward a back stairway. Brad turned back toward his colleagues, and glared at them as Salinas led him away.

  The foursome sat in silence for a long time, watching the parking lot and reluctant to speak. Claire’s attention had diverted to a Mexican family playing together in the pool below when Madge tugged at her sleeve.

  “There he is.” They watched as Eduardo hurried toward his car. George reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone and a business card. He punched in numbers and waited.

  Looking over George’s shoulder, Claire noticed the Homeland Security seal on the business card. Jamal jumped and ran after one of the officers who had lingered behind the departing detective.

  Claire had already forgotten Salinas’s warning. “We have to follow him,” she said, grabbing her purse. “George, do you still have your rental car?”

  George was on hold, impatiently fumbling with his glasses and watching Jamal gesticulating to the officer. He scowled at the phone. “I returned it, but this isn’t our business.”

  Claire reached for the card, but George held it tightly in his fist. “It is our business,” Claire insisted. “Brad didn’t kill Benito. Eduardo did. Please, give me that number. I’ll keep in touch.”

  George held up his finger as his call went through. He reluctantly handed the business card to Claire but pointed a finger at her. “Be careful!” he demanded between clenched teeth.

  Claire whispered a ‘thank you’ as she grabbed the card. She turned to Madge. “Come with me. I need a navigator.”

  George struggled with the phone, nearly dropping it as he tried to catch Madge’s arm. “Madge!” he growled. “Stop!” But she ignored him. George had never seen Madge move so fast, holding tight to the railing as she followed Claire down the hotel staircase.

  “Gonzalez, Bueno?”

  “Carlos? This is George. I’m at the hotel. Ramirez just left. Where are your people?”

  Gonzalez replied, speaking slowly to calm George. “We have Perez at the Merida airport and others stationed at the air and seaports at Chetumal on the Caribbean coast, and in Campeche on the Gulf of Mexico. We have just received word that his shipment has been delivered in New Orleans, an unusual destination for his material. He must have hustled to find a new drop-off. We’re holding the person who picked it up.”

  “Claire and Madge are following Ramirez,” George said, his voice shaking. “Claire has your card. She should be calling you.”

  “Tell Salinas what Claire’s doing,” Gonzalez warned, “and I’ll wait for her call.”

  Stupid woman. She will get herself and Madge killed, George thought as he disconnected and rummaged in his wallet for Salinas’s card. His call went directly to voicemail. He left an urgent message and ended the call.

  As he did so, Jamal appeared at his side. “I told the cop, but I think he was trying to find a reason to arrest me. Where are Madge and Claire?”

  “On a fool’s chase, damn them.” He looked out at the parking lot. Claire’s car was already gone. “Stay here,” he demanded. “Call me if you hear from Claire or Madge.”

  “Where are you going?

  “To find that damn police station.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Claire ran to her Volkswagen, stuffing the business card into her skirt pocket and rummaging in her purse for her car keys. Madge straggled behind her. The car was hot to the touch, and the interior seats burned Claire’s legs when she sat, but she barely felt it in her haste. She opened her window and had the engine started by the time Madge caught up with her. Madge squeezed into the small car, pulling the seat belt around her ample middle, and opened her window.

  Because the central city consisted of one-way streets to alleviate traffic, left was the only direction she, or Eduardo, could turn. She merged into the traffic, looking for his black sedan as she maneuvered around both moving and parked vehicles.

  As they proceeded through an intersection, Madge pointed forward. “He’s turning right.”

  Claire squeezed into the right lane, caught the light and turned the corner. At the next block he turned right again, following the one-way traffic.

  “The car rental,” Claire said as she crept up to the corner and turned.

  Eduardo turned left into the rental parking lot, and Claire had no option but to pass by.

  “Why is he turning his car in?” Madge said. “He’ll have to get a taxi.”

  Claire drove to the next corner and made two right-hand turns, taking her back to the hotel, and then repeated their route back to the rental agency.

  “Do you have a map?” Madge asked as Claire squeezed into a parking space reserved for taxis.

  “In the glove compartment.” Madge reached into the minuscule compartment and pulled out a folded Yucatán map. She unfolded it as an angry cab driver approached their car. His face softened somewhat when he saw the two women.

  “You cannot park here,” he said in stilted English.

  Madge performed her best befuddled elderly woman routine. “Lo siento, Señor. I’m looking for the Intercultural Hotel.” She fumbled to find the enlarged map of Merida. As the driver began to use arm motions to direct her to the hotel they had just left, Claire saw Eduardo pull out of the rental car lot and turn into traffic, now driving a white car. She pulled out from the parking spot, leaving the taxi driver mid-sentence. Madge waved to him as they pulled away.

  “Muchas gracias!” she called from her window. Madge turned the map over, still trying to find the Merida insert, blocking Claire’s view.

  “Madge!” she said. “I can’t see.”

  “Where is he?” Madge said, pulling the map down on her lap.

  “Up ahead. He changed cars…it’s the white Ford Escape.”

  Claire moved over into the left lane as Eduardo turned left at the corner. A driver in a 1950 vintage pickup truck of indeterminate color honked at her as she nearly missed clipping what was left of his front fender.

  Madge folded the map into a large square, giving Claire a sideways glance. “Shouldn’t you call that number George gave you?” she asked. “Or are we doing this alone?”

  “You’re right,” Claire conceded. “Get my phone.” Claire struggled to extract the business card from her pocket as she turned left at the yellow light, earning her a whistle from the traffic officer.

  Madge pulled Claire’s purse onto her lap and extracted the phone. Claire handed her the business card, and Madge punched in the numbers. She held the phone out to Claire.

  “I can’t talk, Madge.”

  Claire listened as Madge identified herself and uttered a series of ‘u-huhs’ and ‘yeses.’ She turned to Claire. “Where are we?”

  “Calle 55 going west.” She gave the make of the car. “The license number is YUC 2398.”

  Madge relayed the information, said a few more ‘a-huhs’ and ended the call. “It was Carlos Gonzalez,” she reported. “He wants us to follow Eduardo as far as we can. They’re setting up roadblocks outside of town, and he’ll let us know when to fall back. If Eduardo changes direction or realizes we are behind him, we are to pull away immediately and call him.”

  Madge looked around for a cup holder, found none and tucked the phone under her skirt. She opened the map again, carefully this time, finding their location. “He talked to George, and George is calling Salinas,” she added. Claire pointed at Eduardo’s car a block in f
ront of them, and asked Madge to watch him carefully.

  The afternoon traffic was increasing, and Madge struggled to keep the car in sight, a difficult chore as most cars were light-colored. Claire had difficulty keeping close enough to get through the lights while avoiding being identified.

  She braked quickly to miss a young tourist couple with two children who stepped into the street in front of them to hail a taxi. The taxi driver, appearing out of nowhere, swerved in front of her to collect his fare. At the next light, a city bus turned in front of them, spewing smoke from the exhaust as it stopped and started. Claire thought she had lost Eduardo for sure. What was I thinking?

  The bus turned several blocks later as they emerged from the downtown area. They approached a major thoroughfare that led toward the airport. Just as Claire was about to give up, Madge stuck her arm in front of Claire’s face.

  “There he is!”

  Claire followed him at a comfortable distance. There were fewer pedestrians, but traffic moved faster. “Phone, please,” said Claire, her nerves on edge as she maneuvered through traffic, keeping Eduardo’s car in view.

  Madge pulled the phone out from under her skirt. “Who are we calling?”

  “Agent Gonzalez,” Claire said as she stopped at a light and watched Eduardo slip through ahead of her.

  Madge punched the recall button and handed the phone to Claire.

  “Gonzalez.”

  “This is Claire Aguila. I’m on Avenida Itzaes heading toward the airport.” She moved forward as the light turned green.

  “We have it covered,” Gonzalez said. “Don’t follow him into the airport access, but call us when he turns in, if you can.”

  Claire handed the phone back to Madge. She reported the conversation, and Madge pointed ahead to where Eduardo had been stalled at the light ahead of them. Nearing the airport, Claire slowed so they could watch Eduardo turn into the access road, but he drove past it, without slowing.

  “Shit,” Claire said. “Now what?” She glanced over at Madge. “Phone, please.”