The South Carolina representative gave another look out into the hall to make sure everyone was gone before he spoke.
“John, you and I go back a long way,” Morrison started. His deep Southern accent filled the room with a smooth, buttery tone. “Do you really think it’s an inside job, that a politician is killing other politicians?”
“I think it’s a distinct possibility, Steve.”
Morrison turned his head from side to side. He rubbed the skin just above his eyebrows, as if the comment stressed him out more than he had been already.
“We’re not in a Third World country here, John. That’s not how Washington operates.”
“Tell that to the four presidents who were assassinated in office.”
“Those were exceptions to the rule, and you know it. Not to mention those men were killed by outsiders. They weren’t hits ordered by political rivals.”
“So far as we know.”
“Fine,” Morrison said. “Let’s say you’re right, that there’s a rogue senator or congressman out there killing other representatives. Why? What’s the motivation?”
“I’m not a cop, Steve. That’s their job.”
“And apparently, the job of someone else you brought in to help. Who is it, John?”
“Someone who knows every building, every room, every secret passage in the city.” He raised his gaze to meet Morrison’s.
“You brought in Emily?”
Dawkins gave a single nod.
The news hit Morrison like a piano falling from the sky. He slumped into a chair and stared at the table. “So, you brought in the big guns. You must really be worried.”
“I’m worried for the people I work with and for the security of our nation,” Dawkins said. “It’s important we find whoever is doing this and take them down, by any means necessary.”
Morrison took a deep breath. “Do you think it’s one of those serial killer things?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to speculate. Like I said, that’s the job of the experts.”
“Well,” Morrison said as he stood, “I guess I’ve got a few announcements to make and some planning to do.”
“Planning?”
“You said we need to beef up our personal security. I have no intention of getting killed at my home or office. Thanks for looking out for us, Mr. President.”
“Just trying to do my job, Steve.”
Morrison left.
When he was out of sight, Dawkins rubbed his hands over his face. Another door opened from the other side of the boardroom. Emily walked in wearing a gray jacket and skirt. Her dark hair was done up in a bun and held in place by a silver clasp.
“So, what do you think?” Dawkins asked as she approached.
She eased into the seat closest to him and touched him on the leg. The Secret Service agent to his left averted his gaze.
The two had grown accustomed to the nearly constant presence of the presidential bodyguards. Dawkins barely even gave it a second thought. For Emily, it took some getting used to, but she was coming along.
“I think you need a vacation,” she said. “You look tired.”
“This job ages you,” Dawkins said. “You come in looking like a young man and leave looking like you put on thirty years.”
“I know. It’s stressful, which is why I’m doing my best to help with this investigation. The last thing I want is for you to have more stress on your plate.”
“Thank you,” he said. His hand slid under the table and interlocked his fingers with hers. “I know I disagree with a lot of these politicians. Heck, some of them are downright horrible people. I know that, but I don’t want anyone to die.”
“The police really are doing all they can,” Emily said. “I honestly don’t know how much more helpful I’m being.”
“I’d be lying if I said having you here isn’t a nice bonus.”
She leaned closer, so near that her perfume overpowered him with an intoxicating scent of flowers and fine Italian leather.
“Is that the real reason you put me on the job?”
He snorted a laugh. “No. Just a cherry on top, that’s all.”
She grinned at the response. “Well, I’ll keep working on it,” she said and pulled away.
He ached to pull her back close, but he restrained himself and stuck to business. “Anything so far?”
“Possibly. I mean, we don’t have any suspects at this time. So far, the crime scenes have been clean, too clean. Not a hair or drop of blood or even an eyelash was dropped, much less fingerprints.”
“So…what do you have?”
“Common interests.”
“Such as sports, fishing, candlelit dinners, walks on the beach?”
Emily chuckled. “No. I mean they both had some similar allies—rich allies—in their pockets. Or they were in the allies’ pockets. Unfortunately, it’s hard to differentiate. Right now, it could just be a coincidence.”
The president nodded. “That sounds like a good starting point.”
“Well, to their credit, the FBI was already snooping down that trail. It was only a matter of time before the cops did, too. We’ll see what we can do, but right now, there isn’t much to go on. I think your plan to shut everything down for a day or two and let everyone regroup is a good idea.”
He appreciated her approval—though he didn’t like the fact that the plan had to be put into action.
“I just wish there was more I could do,” he said.
“You’re doing everything in your power to protect the leaders of this country. And you need to make sure you keep yourself safe, too. They may be working their way up the food chain.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Dawkins said with a smirk. “I’ve got good people taking care of me.” He motioned to the guard at the door. The man didn’t even flinch, keeping his eyes locked on the wall ahead.
“Still, be careful.”
“I will,” he said and patted her leg. “Unfortunately, I’ve got this feeling in my gut that the killer isn’t finished yet.”
Chapter 8
Tulum, Mexico
Sean shielded his sunglasses with a hand as he looked out over the scene.
The resort beach town of Tulum buzzed with activity. Tourists milled about in the open-air market, picking out fresh fruit, fish, and anything else they thought might be good for a snack or perhaps a romantic dinner by the sea.
Many posed for pictures taken on their phones. Seconds later, they were busily posting them to social media or texting jealous friends and family back home.
Tulum was a haven for American tourists and expats alike. Far from the reaches of the drug wars and corruption of northern Mexico, Tulum was like an oasis of peace on the edges of a vast desert.
“I’ve gotta say,” Tommy spoke up, “this sure seems like a nice town.”
“It’s a resort town that attracts a lot of retired Americans.”
“Cancun is pretty nice.”
“As long as you stay close to your hotel. It’s a different animal. Too close to the drug war. It’s right in the backyard.”
Sean thought about his one visit to Cancun. He swore he’d never go back. People had warned him to stay in the resorts, but he figured things would be fine considering he knew how to handle himself.
That mistake had led to a brawl with some local drug smugglers who wanted to use his corpse as a means of transporting cocaine across the border. Americans who died in Mexico had to be sent back to the States, which made perfect targets of tourists who’d wandered from the safety of their hotels. Then it was just a matter of getting the right escort for the body.
The four men had jumped Sean as he strolled by an alley between a saloon and a taqueria. They pulled him into the side street and immediately went for the jugular in the most literal sense of the word.
Two of the men had knives. The others were armed with baseball bats. Sean knew right away that the guys were low-level functionaries for the local cartel. Only the ones hi
gher up the food chain were given the best weapons. Occasionally, a pistol would be handed out to a newbie, but not usually. Besides, the cartels wanted the men doing the dirty work to instill an element of fear into the government, its citizens, and the cartels’ competition. That’s why so many beheadings seemed to happen in the bigger cities—and occasionally in a place like Cancun, though they tended to avoid the resorts and only deal their punishments in the outskirts.
Sean dispatched the men, albeit with a struggle. They’d caught him off guard, but he reacted fast as old instincts and training snapped into action. He knew to take out the biggest threat first. That was the biggest guy with a knife. Once he was down, taking out the other three clowns hadn’t been difficult. One of the men ended up dead. The other three were severely injured and most likely were executed by their employer upon returning to their compound—if they ever made it that far. The cartels didn’t accept failure. If one of their underlings ended up in a hospital, they often didn’t make it out alive.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” Tommy said as they strolled by an older woman selling fruits and vegetables. The vendor at the cart next to her was selling bread and tortillas, filling the air with the aroma of fresh-baked goods.
“Me, either,” Sean said. “I never really thought about it.”
“To be fair, Mexico isn’t the first place on my list of places to take a vacation.”
“Same. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with the Gulf Coast. I just have my favorite places, like Destin, Rosemary, Grayton Beach. Although I’ve heard good things about the coast of Serbia.”
“There’s nice coastline all over the world. West Africa has some good ones not many people know about.”
“As long as the governments stay stable.”
“Same story with Nicaragua, Belize, Costa Rica.”
“Yep,” Sean agreed. He pointed through an archway in a building to the right. “Looks like we get to the beach through here.”
“Lead on, sir. Your guidance is as good as mine,” Tommy said.
Sean weaved his way through the throngs of people that bottlenecked in the pedestrian thoroughfare. Tommy did his best to keep up, but it seemed like most of the people were going the opposite direction. Once they were on the other side of the building, the sidewalk opened up again and there was plenty of room for them to walk side by side again.
“Over there,” Tommy said, pointing to his left.
Up on a hill behind Tommy’s finger, the Americans saw the ruins of Tulum. There didn’t appear to be much. A few small buildings littered the tall grass and sand around the area. Up on the peak overlooking the cliffs rested a larger building. It was made from gray limestone and appeared to still be in good condition despite being several hundred years old—perhaps more.
“Not a whole lot to it,” Sean said.
“This place was sacred to the ancient Mayans,” Tommy said. “They had a strong respect for the sea, which isn’t something that’s mentioned a great deal when people discuss their history. From what I read, this temple was a place where people could come to worship not only their regular deities, but the gods of the ocean as well.”
“Looks like it also faces east, so it was probably a place of sun worship,” Sean added.
Tommy puckered his lips and nodded. “I’m impressed. Look at you with a little knowledge there.”
Sean narrowed his eyes. “Shut up. I know almost as much about all this as you, remember?”
Tommy chuckled. “Come on. Let’s take a closer look at this temple and see what we can find.”
He motioned for Sean to follow and started out down the roped path leading up to the ridge where the temple ruins overlooked the sea.
Hundreds of tourists trod the worn trail that meandered to the temple. Some took pictures of each other with the ruins in the background. Others chose to use their phones and cameras to snap images of the beach and the sea beyond.
They made their way up the gradual slope, bypassing all the other sightseers and gawkers, focused on the mission at hand.
It only took five minutes to make the journey up to the hilltop where dozens more people were admiring the view from the temple or simply taking a moment to appreciate the ancient construction.
The breeze coming in from the ocean blew through Sean’s hair, and he ran his fingers through it again to keep it out of his eyes. He set his bag down on the ground and fished out a baseball cap to make sure the wind didn’t bother him anymore.
Tommy shook his head. “Such a diva now, aren’t we?”
“Shut up. Let’s take a look around,” Sean said as he slung the bag over his shoulder once more.
The men walked around the interior of the temple first, scanning the walls for any signs of something that might be a clue from Alvarado. All they found were a few glyphs from the Mayans who’d occupied the area so long ago. The temple was essentially empty save for the people there to see it.
“The cipher said that Alvarado’s journey began under the cliff ruins. Should we make our way down to the beach?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah,” Sean said. “I don’t think there’s anything here.”
The two made their way back out of the small structure and back down the path. They veered left onto another trail that led through the grass to the white-sand beach beyond the dunes.
They made another left and walked back toward the cliffs that rose dramatically from the beach, giving the temple ruins a spectacular view of the sapphire-blue water of the gulf.
Sean was glad he’d decided to wear sandals. The sand poured through his toes and under the soles then sifted back out of the openings and onto the beach once more. Wearing shoes to the beach was a huge pain, a fact Tommy had become painfully aware of the last time he visited Sean in Destin.
Sean laughed to himself, unable to keep his friend from hearing.
“What?” Tommy asked as they neared the cliffs directly underneath the ruins. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh nothing,” Sean teased. “Just remembering the time we went to the beach in west Florida and you thought it would be a good idea to wear shoes.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. You know I eventually just threw those things away. I never could get all the sand out of them.”
“Believe me, I know.”
Sean stopped and looked up at the jagged rocks leading to the base of the temple. The afternoon sun had already dipped behind the hillside, leaving the area of beach under the ruins in cool shade.
“I didn’t realize how hot it was until we got to this shade,” Tommy said. “I’d be just as happy to park my rear right in this spot for the afternoon.”
“Yeah,” Sean agreed, “if we didn’t have a job to do. Let’s keep looking. I don’t see anything here.”
The two split up and moved closer to the cliff. Most of the beachgoers were sunbathing away from the shade, leaving only a few older people sleeping in their beach chairs under the hill’s shadow.
It didn’t take much time for the two to realize that there was no opening in the cliff that came even remotely close to what General Alvarado described in his journal.
The two men met back in the middle of the shadows and looked around at the people walking along the beach or sunbathing next to coolers and umbrellas.
“What now?” Sean asked. “I don’t see anything like a cave around here.”
Tommy rubbed the back of his neck for a second and then looked over at a grassy area blocked off by ropes. “Let’s take a look over there.”
The two waded through the loose sand until they reached the corner of the rocky outcropping. The cliff continued back until it merged with the hill, sloping down into the dunes.
They stopped short of the ropes and looked around toward the back side. There in plain sight, was what Alvarado must have been talking about in his journal.
The temple had been built upon the rocky cliff to give it a stable base. Part of that base jutted out to the north, providing a sort of natural
roof over the ground. It wasn’t anything spectacular. No tourists hovered around the opening, wondering what was hidden inside. Sean and Tommy speculated that it probably only went back a dozen feet or so under the ruins. That being said, this had to be the place.
“Looks like we can get in there easily enough,” Tommy said. “It’s only about five feet high but plenty wide enough. Just have to crouch down and go in low.”
Sean noted a man in a Mexican military uniform standing on the path off to the right.
“Except if we cross this rope, we’ll probably end up in a Mexican jail.”
Tommy followed Sean’s gaze and realized the trouble. “Oh, good point. Nobody wants to go to jail in Mexico.”
“Yeah, it’s not pretty.”
“You’ve been?”
Sean turned his head and gave his friend a don’t ask glare.
“Right,” Tommy said. “So, what do we do? Wait for that guy to wander away on his patrol or something?”
Sean watched the soldier with keen intensity. The man didn’t appear like he was going to be moving anytime soon.
They stood there in the sand for nearly five minutes, occasionally looking out toward the water and pointing to other areas of interest lest the soldier become aware that he was being watched.
When five minutes had passed, Sean spoke up again. “He’s not going anywhere. If we try to get in there right now, he’s going to give us trouble.”
“So, what do you suggest we do?”
“The ruins close later when it gets dark, but the beach doesn’t. I say we come back tonight when everyone is gone and take a look then.”
“You sure about that?” Tommy asked. “I mean, we’ll have to use flashlights. Flashlights kind of draw attention when it’s dark out.”
“Only if there’s someone around to see them.”
“Granted, but how do we know there won’t be one of those guys standing around when we come back?”
“We don’t. It’s that or take our chances right now. The only difference is right now we know he can see us.”
Tommy exhaled in frustration. “Fine. I guess we come back later after dark and try to sneak in. So, what are we going to do with the next six hours until the sun goes down?”
The Fourth Prophecy Page 7