The Fourth Prophecy

by Ernest Dempsey

  Nearing the end of the next hour, Sean stopped abruptly in the middle of the narrow path. He held up his hand for Tommy to halt and listened closely to the sounds of the jungle.

  Tommy was tempted to ask why they were stopping, but he soon heard the reason.

  It was a faint, distant sound, but distinct. There was no questioning what it could be.

  “Waterfalls,” Tommy whispered.

  Sean nodded. “Not far now, Schultzie. Keep a lookout. We’ve been lucky so far. Last thing we want to do is run into some—”

  A twig snapped in the leaves to their left, and both men spun to face the threat, their trigger fingers ready to unleash a volley of hot metal that would shred the enemy in seconds.

  There was nothing in sight.

  Sean frowned as he surveyed the area.

  “You heard that, right?”

  “Yep,” Tommy said.

  Sean took a wary step off the trail, sweeping his weapon around in a wide arc. Tommy narrowed his eyes as he peered into the forest, hoping to catch whatever made the noise and blast it.

  Then he felt a hand wrap around his mouth while a pistol muzzle pressed hard into the side of his head. He wanted to make a sound to warn his friend, but all he could do was make a low moaning noise.

  Someone in dirty, tattered clothing stepped by Tommy and rushed at Sean. The second attacker made a mistake and stepped on a stick lying near the path. The little piece of wood snapped loudly under the man’s weight, and Sean spun around to find his friend being held hostage while another guy was charging his way.

  Sean aimed his gun at the second man’s chest and readied himself to pull the trigger.

  “Put the gun down.” The man holding Tommy spoke in perfect, albeit heavily accented English. His mouth and nose were covered with a ragged, stained strip of cloth. The skin that showed was darkly tanned, a lighter version of his deep brown eyes.

  Sean didn’t have a move. He could shoot the guy who’d frozen mid-attack, but then the man holding Tommy could easily end his friend’s life. Then there was the matter of the other four men in the group, all who had weapons aimed at Sean.

  With no options, Sean nodded and eased the rifle strap over his head and shoulder and dropped it on top of the weapon before standing up straight and putting his hands in the air.

  “The pistol, too,” the man in charge ordered.

  Sean swallowed and did as told, removing his sidearm from its holster and placing it next to the rifle.

  “And the machete.”

  Sean let out an annoyed sigh and tossed the blade on the ground. “Anything else?” he asked in a tone layered with irritation.

  “Is there anything else I should know about?”

  “I’ve got a crap load more ammo and a few explosives in the backpack.”

  “I appreciate your honesty. Set it on the ground as well.” The man’s Spanish accent was refined, smooth. He sounded like someone who’d been raised in an affluent home.

  “What are you two doing out here?” he asked. “This is no place for a couple of gringos like yourselves.”

  Two of the other men disarmed Tommy and shoved him toward Sean.

  “Sightseeing,” Sean said. “We’ve been thinking of opening a zip line course out here through the canopy.”

  “It’s a million-dollar idea,” Tommy said. “You wanna invest?”

  The leader chuckled. “You are funny, gringos. Very funny. I have to say, your response is both original and humorous.”

  Then he raised the pistol and pointed it at Tommy’s face. “Now tell me why you’re really here. Two heavily armed Americans in my jungle? My first guess is that you’re with one of the drug enforcement agencies. The only problem is in my jungle you have no jurisdiction.”

  “We’re not with any agency,” Sean said. “Well, not technically. I mean, he runs an agency.”

  Tommy turned his head and scowled at his friend.

  “Relax, Schultzie,” Sean said. “These guys don’t care what we’re looking for.”

  The leader’s curiosity was piqued. “Looking for?”

  “It’s nothing,” Tommy insisted.

  The man shook the gun, and Tommy instantly quieted down.

  “We’re archaeologists,” Sean said. “We brought all these guns because we heard there are dangerous animals in the area, along with a band of rebels.”

  The man in charged cocked his head to the side and gave them a skeptical glare. “Do you really expect me to believe two archaeologists are carrying around automatic weapons, pistols, and explosives? You must think I’m stupid.”

  “No. No, sir. No one said you were stupid,” Sean said. He did his best not to sound desperate.

  “Then who are you, really? Are you working for one of the other cartels? If you’re not with the American government or the Mexican government, that must be the answer, and if that’s the answer…you’re still going to die.”

  “Why would one of the cartels hire a couple of gringos like us?” Tommy asked. “Seriously? Is that something you guys do, bring in a few ringers from up north?”

  The question momentarily stumped the leader. “No. That is not how things are usually done.”

  One of the other men stepped close to the head guy. He was shorter, at least by three or four inches, and had a wide bush hat on his head with dark camouflage paint on his face. He bent the leader’s ear and whispered something.

  A second later, a sinister grin crossed the leader’s face as he spoke. “My associate here has a good idea for you two.”

  He turned and started barking orders in Spanish. Either he didn’t realize the two Americans spoke the language, or he didn’t care.

  The rest of the men grabbed Sean and Tommy and started marching them down the slope toward the growing sound of the river. They didn’t have to hike long before the camp came into view.

  Sean noted the layout. He knew it would be his only chance to reconnoiter the vicinity before they were stuffed in a cage.

  The tent city covered a broad area under the trees. All the canvas shelters were also covered with additional camouflage netting for protection against any aerial surveillance from their government or from Uncle Sam.

  Most of the residential tents were on one side and circled a central area where there was another tent filled with tables, a large fire pit, and chairs. Sean immediately knew that was the makeshift mess hall where all the workers could eat.

  Off to the left side of the camp were the processing tents. Dozens of people—women and men—were busily cutting cocaine, packing it tightly into cellophane wrapping or weighing the product. One of the other tents housed what looked like an old-school chemistry lab filled with Bunsen burners, glass bulbs, tubes, and an assortment of other equipment.

  The workers—for the most part—were more diminutive than the men surrounding the processing stations. The cartel had a nasty reputation for rounding up illegal immigrants from Guatemala and forcing them into work camps like this one. The women—acquired via human trafficking—were typically used for carnal tasks unless they were older, like the ones scooping white powder onto the weighing scales. Whoever ran this camp had clearly continued the tradition of bringing in Guatemalans as slave labor.

  “Any ideas how we’re going to get out of this one?” Tommy asked as he and Sean were shoved forward toward a row of cages set in the mud between the residential tents and the big-top processing tents.

  “Not yet. I’m working on it.”

  “Well, work faster. You heard what that guy said.”

  “Yeah, I heard him.”

  The leader had made no effort to disguise his ploy. Sean and Tommy were going to be held for ransom. For every week that passed without payment, one of their appendages would be cut off and sent back to the States.

  Based on what was being said by the other men in the group, the clock was already ticking.

  Chapter 15

  Washington

  The blurry light blinked in and out for a moment in Li
lian’s eyes. All she could hear was the sound of something beeping in a steady rhythm. She tried to move her head but found every muscle was sluggish. Her head slowly rolled over with some extra effort. She forced her eyes to stay open for a second and saw a couple of figures looming over her.

  It was difficult to tell—at first—where she was. Then she noticed the surroundings: the wires, the bed, the room, the IV sticking into her arm. She was in a hospital.

  Her eyes blinked faster until her vision cleared. Then she was able to focus on the tall brunette standing over her and the man to the right. Two cops stood on either side of the door just beyond the threshold.

  “I’m in the hospital?” Lilian asked.

  “Yes, Congresswoman Pike. You were shot. The wound isn’t fatal. You were lucky.”

  Lilian looked around, still dazed from the drug-induced sleep. “Mitch. Where’s my bodyguard, Mitch?”

  The brunette woman did her best to look sympathetic. “Congresswoman Pike, your bodyguard was fatally shot in the back of the head by the killer.”

  Tears welled in Lilian’s eyes. Her head tossed back and forth on the pillow as she tried in vain to fight off the flood of emotions rolling into her chest.

  “No. No, that…that’s impossible. Not Mitch. He was a good man.”

  “I know, Congresswoman Pike. I’m sorry for your loss, and I cannot convey my sympathies deeply enough. What I can do is try to find the person responsible for this.”

  Lilian tried to sit up, but the room spun around in her eyes and she collapsed back against the pillow.

  The brunette reached out her hand and pressed it to Lilian’s shoulder. “Congresswoman Pike, please, you need to rest. You’ve had a traumatic day. My name is Emily Starks. I’m leading the investigation to find the person who did this, the one we think is responsible for the recent murders and who shot you and your bodyguard.”

  More emotions washed over Lilian, and she coughed amid the stream of tears. “I know who you are, Miss Starks.”

  “Then you know I’ll do whatever it takes to bring this killer to justice.” She paused for a second before pushing her line of questioning. “You…you didn’t happen to get a good look at the shooter, did you?”

  Lilian took a long breath through her nose and exhaled slowly. She shook her head as she recalled the events of that tragic evening. “No. Everything happened so fast. Mitch…Mitch had just driven me home from the office. He was going to drop me off like he usually did. Only this time, there was someone waiting for us on the other side of the street. The shooter stuck to the shadows. I never saw their face. I didn’t even see them shooting at me. I did the only thing I could think of. I ran down to the other end of the street where there were lots of cars going by. I guess I figured the killer wouldn’t follow me to a busy road like that.”

  “That was good thinking,” the man on the other side of the bed said. He wore a navy-blue windbreaker and button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. “Like Director Starks said, you were really lucky. You’re the first person to survive an encounter with this killer.”

  Lilian averted her gaze to the foot of the bed. She stared at it for a long moment before saying anything again. “I…I don’t feel lucky,” she said finally. “My friend Mitch is dead.”

  “I know, ma’am,” the detective said. “I promise you, we are doing everything in our power to bring this person to justice.”

  Lilian sighed. “I know. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. I just didn’t get a good look at them. If I hadn’t run away—”

  “You’d be dead right now, Congresswoman Pike,” Emily interrupted. “You did the right thing. There was nothing you could have done to save Mitch. That killer is singling out members of Congress. We don’t know why they targeted you, but we will find out.”

  Emily looked over at the detective and motioned with her head that they needed to leave. Then she turned her attention back to Lilian. “Get some rest, Congresswoman. Take it easy. You’ll be safe here. We’ll have around-the-clock security watching your room. No one is getting in here.”

  “Thank you,” Lilian said. “I…I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  Emily gave a curt nod and then motioned again to the detective to head toward the door.

  Once they were outside and beyond earshot, Emily turned and looked back at the two officers at the door.

  “You vetted those guys, right?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. We were very thorough.” The detective did his best not to sound condescending.

  “Sorry, Smalley. You and your men are doing a good job.”

  Emily stopped at the end of the hall near the elevators and paused before pressing the down button.

  Smalley appreciated the kind words. It was the first time he’d seen any sort of sensitivity from Emily. She’d been hard on him and his men since taking over the case. If he was honest, he’d have been the same way.

  “You seem pensive,” he said, noticing the blank stare in her eyes. “What’s up?”

  She reached out and pressed the button. “I don’t like it.”

  “Like what?”

  Emily watched the arrows over the doors as she waited. “How much do you know about Lilian Pike?” she asked.

  Smalley rolled his shoulders. Keys jiggled in one of his pockets as he did so. “I know she lost her son and husband a few years back. Sad story. No way anyone will ever beat her in an election because of that.” He noted the dubious expression on Emily’s face and quickly made an addition to his comment. “Not that she would ever want that or use that to her advantage.”

  “No,” Emily said just above a whisper. “That’s not what bothers me.”

  “Oh?”

  The bell dinged, signaling their ride had arrived. The silver doors opened and they stepped in. A few seconds later, the doors closed again, and they began their descent.

  “No. How much do you know about her politics?” Emily asked, now speaking at a normal volume.

  “Not much,” Smalley said. “I’ve lived here so long, I stopped listening to the rhetoric years ago. That’s all it is to me now. I don’t even watch the news much anymore.”

  “You and I have that in common.”

  The elevator dinged, and the doors to the main floor opened.

  They stepped out and walked briskly through the lobby toward the exit. Emily held her thoughts until they were outside in the cool morning air. A dense fog wrapped around the building, but the sun was already rising high over the horizon, doing its best to burn off the moisture.

  “Why do you ask?” Smalley wondered.

  “Because Lilian Pike is pretty much the polar opposite of the other victims. They were all allies for the big oil companies. She’s a big proponent of environmental issues. One of her major things is green energy.”

  Smalley frowned. “That doesn’t jive with our case.”

  “No. No, it doesn’t. This throws a huge monkey wrench into everything.”

  “Maybe…maybe the killer did it to throw us off. You know, make us look the other way. If they knew we were zeroing in on their targets, that might be a plausible explanation.”

  Emily shook her head. “I considered that. It could be, but I doubt it. There has to be something else. We need to see if there’s any connection between the other three victims and Congresswoman Pike.”

  “Still don’t think it’s a serial thing, huh? That whoever is behind this is just trying to take out as many politicians as they can?”

  “No. Although this one does make me wonder. See what you can dig up about her voting history. I’m pretty sure you won’t find anything, but we have to cover all our bases. See if you can track down campaign contributions, lobbying activity, all of it. I want to know as much about her as we can dig up. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “I’ll see what I can find, Director Starks.”

  “Thanks, Smalley.”

  They split up as they reached the parking lot, Smalley returning to his sedan and Emil
y to hers. She got in the car and looked down at her phone to check the time. Smalley wouldn’t find anything in his search. She knew that much. It was a dead end, but every angle had to be examined.

  The attack on Lilian Pike had thrown the entire investigation in the toilet. Emily was, effectively, going to have to start over from scratch.

  Chapter 16

  Chiapas

  The late-afternoon sun sprayed a smattering of rays through the canopy above, throwing bright spots on the ground around the cage. Sean and Tommy didn’t waste their energy begging for release. They knew that wouldn’t change anything, and they needed to conserve energy since there was no telling when they’d get a chance to eat or drink again.

  “Who is this guy?” Tommy asked as the two watched the busy camp through the makeshift bars.

  Sean’s eyes were level as he gazed into the processing area where the slaves continued their tedious labor.

  “His name is Osvaldo Martinez,” Sean said. “He’s second in command for his brother’s cartel.”

  “Okay, first of all, I was just kind of taking a shot in the dark there. I didn’t actually expect you to know the guy’s name. Second…how do you know the guy’s name?” Tommy had to be careful not to shout the question.

  Sean took a deep breath and exhaled. “I remember seeing something about him back when I was with Axis. He was much younger then. We both were. His brother, Tito, had just taken over one of the midlevel cartels here in Mexico. From the looks of things, they’re not midlevel anymore. These guys are in the major leagues now. I’d say they’ve got at least a quarter million in blow alone. Figure in the weed they’re moving, and this is a multi-multimillion-dollar operation.”

  Tommy didn’t know what to say at first. He let the information set in.

  “They’re part of a growing problem in this country,” Sean went on. “Most of the bigger cartels operate out of Guadalajara or Juarez. It’s swelling to a breaking point between the decent citizens and the criminals. It’s unfortunate.”