The Fourth Prophecy

by Ernest Dempsey

  “Yep.”

  “Which is why you were asking about an alternate route.”

  “Correct.”

  “We wouldn’t want to do that anyway. We’d walk right into one of their camps.”

  “That’s exactly what Alex said.”

  Sean scratched his scruffy blond hair and then folded his hands, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned over and pondered the situation.

  “Usually,” he said, “drug smugglers operate close to an airstrip. They use any number of methods to get the drugs to the planes, but the planes are the key. If we can find that airstrip, maybe we can plot out a route that will keep us out of their way.”

  He stood abruptly and took a step over to the entertainment unit where his laptop was sitting. He grabbed the computer and flipped it open. His fingers flew across the keys. A moment later, he clicked on a map result in the search directory and zoomed in on the Yucatan.

  “Where did he say this place is?”

  “Due southwest of here.”

  Tommy’s phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket. He turned the screen toward Sean so his friend could see the message.

  Sean noted the coordinates on the phone and entered them into the computer. The map zoomed in to an exact spot on the map. The satellite image displayed a thick forest canopy, making it impossible to see anything on the ground.

  He moved his finger along the mouse pad, dragging the map to search for anything that remotely looked like an airstrip, but found nothing. The only thing that stood out in the otherwise smothering forest was a thin strip of water just to the south. Almost unnoticeable, it appeared to be nothing more than a narrow creek.

  “What’s that?” Tommy asked. “A river?”

  Sean narrowed his eyes and peered closely at the screen. He’d zoomed in as far as the image would allow. “Could be,” Sean said. “Doesn’t look very big, although the trees could be blocking out the riverbanks. Some smugglers do take their goods downstream via boat. It’s possible there’s an airstrip near the water somewhere. Unfortunately, I can’t find anywhere on this map because I don’t know where the river goes. It disappears after this little clearing here.” He tapped on the screen to pinpoint the area.

  “Based on the coordinates Alex gave us, that’s close to the waterfall. Makes sense there’s some kind of runoff or river or something.”

  “It’s also a really good bet that the cartel camp is somewhere close by.” Sean frowned. “The more I think about it, the more I think it’s likely that they’re using the water for transport. Even if it’s not very deep, they could use canoes outfitted with small motors.”

  Tommy nodded. “I’ve seen those before on the Amazon.” He paused for a moment. “So, I guess we need to get some gear.”

  “We have a few things, but we’ll need a tent, sleeping bags, backpacks, the whole nine.”

  “And more ammo,” Tommy said. “You know…just in case.”

  Sean took a long breath and sighed. “The bad news is if we run into a cartel camp out there, no amount of bullets will help us.”

  Chapter 13

  Washington

  Lilian shuffled through the last papers on her desk, collected them in both hands, and then tapped the end of the stack on the surface to get all the documents neatly in line.

  It was already dark outside when she picked up her laptop bag and turned off the lights for the day.

  She’d been working in the Capitol for several years now, and most of her days were as long as this one: waking at the crack of dawn and leaving long after the sun disappeared over the horizon to the west.

  Her bodyguard, a middle-aged man named Mitch, was standing outside the door waiting for her as she stepped out into the long corridor leading to the exit.

  “How was your day, Congresswoman Pike?” Mitch asked politely, as he always did as she left for the evening.

  She gave her usual response, telling him it was fine and that she’d been productive. The truth was she’d stopped caring about the work long ago. Washington was beyond corrupt. She’d learned that long ago. Making a difference was almost impossible with the current structure. Being productive meant she was able to delay laws that she felt would not be in the best interest of the country, but it was rare she stopped anything. The few items she’d been able to get pushed through were so watered down they were almost as ineffective as not having them at all.

  Her black skirt fluttered in the breeze as she strode down the hallway, her shoes clicking on the hard surface with every step.

  Mitch’s head was on a swivel. He and all the other personal security guys in Washington were on high alert after the three mysterious murders in recent days. Men just like him had been taken out along with the people they were protecting. While his sense of duty to guard the congresswoman was at the top of his list, he had no intentions of being killed on his watch.

  He’d been in this business a long time, nearly twenty years after doing a short stint in the military. While it wasn’t the same as being on the battlefield, it came with a more sinister threat: complacency.

  The two passed through the metal detectors and out the doors into the muggy Washington night. Most of the other representatives had already left, returning to their homes for supper with their families. Lilian knew some of them were making pit stops on the way home to dabble with a few vices before making their way to the family hearth.

  She winced at the thought.

  She’d been a loyal wife and loving mother. As far as she knew, her husband had been the same way right up until the moment he took his own life.

  And if she were being honest with herself, suicide seemed like the easy solution. There were plenty of nights when she wished she’d had the courage to put a bullet through her head. More than a few times—after a bottle of wine—she’d nearly done it.

  Lilian recalled the occasions she’d actually put the pistol’s muzzle against her chest and tensed her finger on the trigger. She could never go through with it, and there was a small part of her that regretted her weakness. She almost felt guilty because of it. No, she did feel guilty. It wasn’t right that her son and her husband were both dead while she kept on living. She should be in the ground with them.

  Something, though, deep down inside kept pushing her forward. Was it her sense of purpose? Was it her calling? She didn’t know. All Lilian Pike knew was that her role in government was becoming less and less effective and that the changes she’d hoped to make in the world were nothing but a distant memory.

  She descended the steps of the Capitol and followed Mitch around the corner, beyond a row of small trees and bushes that lined the sidewalk on the way to the reserved parking area.

  Once inside the back of the SUV, she leaned her head back and sighed, hoping the pain in her heart would flow out of her nostrils and mouth to leave her nothing but relief and peace.

  Those two things never came.

  Mitch fired up the engine and steered the vehicle out onto the street.

  Lilian watched as the lights along the sidewalks whirred by, only slowing to a stop each time her driver came to an intersection. They passed late-night joggers and couples strolling along hand in hand. The couples laughed and smiled at each other, enjoying a happy evening walk.

  Lilian remembered those days. Before they’d had their son, she and her husband had enjoyed many evening walks like that. She recalled taking her son to the park with her husband. They would run in the grass until they collapsed, and then they’d rolled around until their skin itched and their clothes were covered in dirt and grass stains.

  Those days were gone. They’d been gone for a while. Sometimes she wondered if she’d ever shake the memories and be able to live a normal life.

  Mitch turned through an intersection and onto the street leading to her townhouse.

  She pressed her head against the window and stared blankly out into the night. She no longer noticed the details or the people. Everything became a blur up to the moment Mitch
stopped the car in their usual parking space and shifted the transmission into park.

  Lilian didn’t move for a moment, mired in her thoughts of how things used to be. Mitch waited nearly a minute before he said anything.

  “Congresswoman Pike? We’re home.”

  Mitch knew all about her past. He’d been good to her, never asking too many questions and always willing to listen—not that she talked much about the tragedies. It was easier to keep everything locked inside, at least that’s what she told herself.

  She snapped out of her daze and opened the door. “Thank you, Mitch. I appreciate how much you take care of me.”

  “You’re more than welcome, ma’am.”

  A black luxury sedan approached from the opposite direction. Both Mitch and Lilian eyed it with suspicion. Every politician in the city had been on edge because of the killings.

  The sedan passed safely by, and Mitch surveyed the area to make sure everything was clear while Lilian retrieved her laptop bag from the seat. She slung it over her shoulder and walked around the SUV to where Mitch was waiting.

  “I’ll be out here until Scotty arrives to take over. If you need anything—”

  “I know, Mitch. Just ask. You know, you always say the same thing to me every night you drop me off.”

  “And you never take me up on it.” He let his stone face crack a frail smile.

  She knew he wanted her. It was obvious from the way he acted, the overly chivalrous things he did, the way he looked at her. Had things been different, she may have done something about it. There were moments, times when she was lonely, when she felt like calling him into her home and wrapping his strong arms around her. That could never happen. She wouldn’t allow it. Her feelings of loyalty to her dead husband and child always got in the way of fleeting passions.

  “You know I can’t, Mitch. Thank you for always taking care of me.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Congresswoman Pike.”

  A shadow shifted from behind one of the cars across the street. Mitch’s smile vanished, and his hand moved in a blur to the holster inside his jacket. “Lilian! Get down!”

  He pulled out his weapon and raised it like he’d done so many times in training. A loud pop echoed from the other side of the street. It was followed by several more.

  The first rounds found Mitch’s chest and abdomen. The third struck him in the shoulder. Another hit his leg, dropping him to his knees.

  He squeezed the trigger, but his weapon wasn’t close to being lined up with the target and the bullet pounded harmlessly into the townhome’s brick wall. Mitch slumped over and raised his weapon again, desperately trying to get off one good shot at the shadow across the road.

  The figure was gone.

  Mitch searched the area, but he couldn’t see the shooter. Blood oozed from his leg and shoulder. His vest had stopped the shots to his chest and gut, but the points of contact ached nearly as bad as where the bullets missed his armor.

  Lilian watched in horror as her guard was shot over and over. Knowing there was nothing she could do to save him, she turned and ran down the sidewalk. She clutched her laptop bag and pumped her legs as hard as she could in heels. When she reached the corner, she risked a look back and saw the dark figure standing behind Mitch as he tried to crawl to the other side of the road where he thought the shooter was still hiding.

  The shadow fired, sending the round through the back of Mitch’s skull. His torso fell to the asphalt.

  “Mitch!” Lilian screamed.

  The killer’s head turned toward her. Lilian’s eyes went wide, and she knew she’d made a mistake by yelling. She veered left down the busy street, waving her free hand at every passing car.

  “Help!” she yelled. “Please! Someone help!”

  She saw a police car parked along the sidewalk on the other side of the road and kept screaming at the top of her lungs.

  At first, the cop in the front seat didn’t hear over the sound of traffic and whatever noises were going on inside his car. Then he saw the panicked congresswoman waving her arm and jumping up and down.

  He immediately got out of the car and looked around then held up his right hand to slow traffic as he crossed the street.

  “Help! Please help!” Lilian screamed once more.

  The cop hurried across the street and skidded to a stop in front of her. His eyes scanned the sidewalk in both directions before addressing her directly.

  “What’s wrong, ma’am? Are you okay?”

  She swallowed and thought for a second. Then she nodded. “I…I think so.”

  He looked down at her arm and grabbed it gently with his fingers. She followed his gaze and saw a trickle of blood coming out of her suit jacket. Her legs went weak, and she started to waver.

  The cop wrapped his arm around her and lowered her to the sidewalk. Once she was securely on the ground, he pressed the button on his radio. He spoke fast, using a short code for the emergency and requested backup and an ambulance.

  Most of what he said was a blur to Lilian. The world spun around in her eyes.

  “Stay with me,” the cop said. “You’re going to be fine. It’s not bad. Just a flesh would.”

  “They…they killed Mitch.” It was all she could get out.

  “Who’s Mitch? Ma’am? Ma’am?” he said with a heightened sense of urgency. “Who is Mitch?”

  “He’s my…my bodyguard…my friend.”

  Her eyes closed, and the cop felt her body get instantly heavier in his arms as she went limp.

  Sirens blared in the distance. It would be another thirty seconds before backup arrived. Not that it mattered. The assassin had already vanished.

  Chapter 14

  Chiapas, Mexico

  “I have never—not even in the hottest, most humid summer—experienced anything like this in the South,” Tommy whispered amid panting for breath.

  He stopped on the side of what passed for a trail and leaned against a tree, grabbing the water bottle out of his backpack for what must have been the tenth time that hour.

  “Nope,” Sean said as he gasped for air. “Makes things worse that we have to wear long pants and shirts. It’s necessary unless you want to get eaten alive by the bugs out here.”

  “No doubt,” Tommy said after taking a huge gulp from the bottle. “I bet there’s stuff out here that really could eat you alive.”

  Sean didn’t want to freak out his friend, but he knew that was exactly the case. Some of the wildlife in the Mexican rain forests was the stuff of legends. He was no biologist, but Sean had read and seen enough to know not to fool around with the local creatures.

  Tommy stuffed the bottle back into his backpack and trudged ahead to catch up with Sean. Each carried sidearms on their hips and semiautomatic rifles slung over their shoulders. Getting the more powerful weapons had taken a bit of doing and a considerable financial investment, but Greg had been more than helpful and connected them with a local guy who took care of the rest.

  They’d loaded up their packs with enough rounds to start a small war. The tent and other gear came from a local outfitter in Tulum. While it wasn’t top-of-the-line camping equipment, it would do the job and definitely beat having no shelter. The last thing Sean wanted to do was have to build a lean-to of sticks and leaves out in the rain forest.

  They marched on, using their machetes carefully and only when they needed to knock a stray branch out of the way. The entire time, their free hands remained on the rifle grips with a finger ready to squeeze the trigger at a moment’s notice.

  Most of the world’s jungles were dangerous places. This one was near the top of the list. There were dozens of varieties of wildlife that could kill a human. Adding the cartel and guerrillas made it that much more inhospitable. Even the most alert, well-trained bushman could meet his end out here.

  Something squawked high up in the canopy to the right, and both men spun in that direction. A second later, they let out a relieved exhale.

  “Just a bird,” Sean whisper
ed. “Let’s keep moving. We need to get to the falls before the sun goes down.”

  They pushed ahead for another thirty minutes until another short hydration break was needed. The men had brought enough water for the journey in, plus purification tablets and filters to refill their bottles when they reached the falls.

  Sean stuffed his water back into the backpack once more and pulled a map out of the cargo pocket on his right pant leg. He unfolded the piece of paper and checked their position in relation to the dot he’d made on the map the night before.

  “So, we are here,” he said, tapping on the point he estimated they were standing. “That means we have…another four miles to go.” He folded the map and shoved it back into his pocket. “Getting close, my friend.” Sean’s tone was irritatingly cheerful, but Tommy couldn’t help but share a little of the joy that their journey was almost over—for the moment. There was still the hike back they’d have to endure tomorrow. Neither was looking forward to that.

  “We should be there way before sunset,” Tommy said. “We’ve made good time. Glad I put in all that effort to get in shape. I probably couldn’t have made it this far a few years ago.”

  Sean didn’t add anything to his friend’s comment other than to give a humoring nod.

  “Off we go again,” Sean said. “Keep your head on a swivel. The closer we get to the waterfall, the better chance we have of running into trouble.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. That’s where I’d be if I were them.”

  Tommy’s fingers tensed on his rifle just to be safe.

  They trudged forward for nearly an hour, moving as quickly as they could while remaining silent. At one point Sean noticed a snake dangling from one of the trees about a dozen feet off the path, but the serpent didn’t bother them since they weren’t going anywhere near it. More than a few times, Sean had to hack his way through huge spiderwebs—a task that sent goosebumps over his and Tommy’s skin. The worst part about the spiderwebs was not finding the spiders. That always caused the instant assumption that the arachnids had found their way into the men’s hair or clothing.