“Itzel?” Ramon leaned forward. He reached out and touched her hand. Itzel surprised herself by not withdrawing. Ramon’s smile grew. “See,” he said, “you have noticed me?”
Now she took her hand back. “Don’t,” she said. “The mission comes first.”
“I know.” He sat back, disappointed.
“Let’s go and buy the phones. You go left, and I go right. Don’t forget the requirements.”
“I won’t.” He stood up and came around to hold her chair. As she stood, Ramon leaned next to her and whispered into her ear. “I never forget anything you say to me.”
Itzel paused. Ramon stood so close she could feel his breath on her neck. It tickled, in a nice, warm way. For a moment, she imagined his arms sliding around her. His lips kissing her neck. His hands upon her breasts.
For the second time, she shivered.
“Let’s go,” Itzel said, as she nudged him aside. “Yancha will be wondering where we are.”
Ramon chuckled as he stepped back. “He’ll still be waiting for the Best Buy to open. I think the sign said ten a.m.”
Itzel looked at her phone. Now she did smile. And laugh. “And you didn’t tell him?”
“He’s lazy. He wanted to shop at the store that meant the least amount of walking.”
Itzel pointed Ramon in the direction he needed to go. “Shop,” she said. “I will see you back at the car.”
***
Forty minutes later Itzel had two cell phones ready to use and a third soon to be purchased when a disgruntled Yancha finally got to enter the Best Buy. She made a note of the number for each phone and used one of them to message the High Priest. Within five minutes she had a detailed message in return. Itzel read it twice. She didn’t need to read it the third time, but she did, just to make sure.
What is happening? Why does he want this?
Questions she could never ask because one never questioned the High Priest. Ever. A cloudless sky meant the sun shone down upon the car and the heat had built up enough for sweat to bead on Itzel’s forehead. At least she blamed the sun, and not the building fear. They needed to get the goddess back to Yucatán, not spend time doing this.
Yancha finally returned smiling as if he had achieved some daunting task and not just bought a cell phone. He sat in the back and passed the box through. Itzel said to Ramon, “Put the air-con on.”
She set up Yancha’s phone as the temperature cooled. Itzel handed her phone back to Yancha and said, “Pull up Google Maps. I’ll need to know where we are in relation to a place in a moment.”
“What place?” Yancha asked.
“I have to make a call, that’s when I find out.”
The High Priest’s message contained a number to call. Itzel keyed the number in, sat back and closed her eyes.
“Yes?” a gruff male voice asked.
“We have a mutual friend,” Itzel said. “Xquic.”
A pause, she heard his intake of breath. “Mother of the twins.”
“Yes. Are you ready?”
“I am. Always.”
“And your comrades?”
“Two are, the others are out of the country.”
“We need to meet urgently. Where are you?”
“I am based at Fort Bragg.”
“Where is that?” Itzel opened her eyes and twisted to face Yancha.
“It’s near Fayetteville in North Carolina.”
Itzel repeated the location to Yancha. He held the phone up so she could see the screen. She pointed to the directions option, and Yancha typed in Roanoake to Fayetteville.
“We’re about four hours away,” Itzel said into the phone. “We can be with you by the middle of the afternoon. Can you meet up then?”
“Yes. I will message you with a location.”
“Thank you,” Itzel said as he disconnected.
“What was all that about?” Yancha asked.
“A change in plan. We need to meet these people.” Itzel faced forward, looking out over a parking lot filling up now with shoppers. A hand touched her shoulder as Yancha reached between the seats.
“Who are they?” he asked.
Itzel thought about her answer. She didn’t know who they were, but she did know what they were. The High Priests message told her everything she needed to know.
“We have been sending followers north,” she said, repeating the message she had received. “For years now, maybe even decades. They have gone to live amongst our enemy, told to stay true to our faith but to blend in. They take jobs, send their children to school, work in factories and offices. Some are involved in politics; others join the police or the military. But all stay true to our cause because they know that one day they, or their children, will be called upon by the gods to move against the enemy. And for the man I spoke to, that day has arrived.”
Yancha and Ramon were silent, coming to terms with the long-range planning that the Priests had undertaken. It was Yancha who asked, “What are we going to do?”
“Meet him. Give him his orders. We need to show him the goddess, so he is aware how important this is.” Itzel spoke in a soft voice with no emotion.
“What are his orders?” Ramon asked.
“The enemy uses spirit walkers, the gods have captured one but a second escaped. The High Priest wants her dead.”
“We can’t allow the enemy to catch us,” Yancha said.
“I know.” Itzel shifted in her seat, trying to get a look at both the men to reassure them. “That is why we will meet up with them, pass on the orders and then leave. We can be hours away again before they strike. There will be no danger to us.”
Ramon nodded as if he believed every word that Itzel spoke. Yancha, older and a little wiser, seemed less convinced but knew not to question the orders. Itzel showed Ramon the route as he programmed the GPS for Fayetteville.
“What if the man you spoke to reports us?” Yancha asked.
“Anything is possible,” Itzel said. “Believers can lose faith. But if he does his soul will be torn from his body and consigned to the deepest parts of Hell.”
Ramon put the car in drive and pulled out of their parking slot. Itzel settled back, the long detour ahead of them. Yancha’s words echoed in her head.
What if they were betrayed?
***
They bypassed Fort Bragg on the instructions of the believer. He wanted to meet up in Fayetteville. A zone of local shops sat off Highway 220 with a big enough parking lot that they could sit out in one corner and not get noticed. Itzel had Ramon stop a few miles short of the meeting place so she could get a wig out of her bag. She chose a longish one, the hair spilling down her shoulders in waves. Ramon nodded his approval,
“I like you in that one,” he said. “The wig changes the shape of your face and makes you look softer. More beautiful.”
Yancha made a noise from the back seat. “Put it away, boy. She’s more likely to bite it off than suck it.”
Itzel turned, a flash of anger making her snap. “Both of you can show me some respect. You, Ramon, because you need to know when to draw a line between work and play. And you, Yancha, need to know that I will kill you if you talk about me like that again.”
Yancha met her stare and for a moment she thought he would challenge her. Her hand dropped to the knife she had in her pocket. Yancha broke eye contact and looked away. Itzel continued to stare at him, making sure Yancha understood who was in charge.
Facing forward, and still simmering with anger, she said to Ramon, “Don’t make the same mistake again.”
His face flushed beneath the dark tone of his skin. Itzel knew the few minutes of conversation in the coffee shop had been a bad idea. Ramon now saw her as a potential lover. Sure, he was good-looking, and if there hadn’t been the mission, she might have enjoyed his compliments and chat. But this was war, and she intended to survive.
“Drive,” Itzel said.
The remainder of the journey passed in silence. Itzel seethed with every passing second. Yancha’s words kept pl
aying through her head over and over. Did he think she was a whore? Once we pass on the orders we still have two days of driving. Can I last that long without taking him down a peg or two?
Ramon made the turn into the parking lot, an expanse of asphalt occupied by half-a-dozen pick-up trucks and a few SUVs clustered close to the row of shops. Ramon circled the lot once and parked up near enough to the shops to make it look like they would be using them but with enough space that they could spot any approach and make a quick getaway if necessary.
No-one seemed interested in them. Itzel had already messaged a description of the vehicle they were in so it was up to the believer to make contact.
“You two head over towards the Family Dollar, look like you are waiting outside for someone. I will deal with our friend alone.”
Ramon looked like he wanted to argue but Yancha getting out of the back without question made the younger man follow. They walked away without a backwards glance. Itzel checked the fit of the wig in the courtesy mirror. It looked okay. And if she turned her head maybe Ramon was right, it did soften her features and made the jaw line look less threatening and her nose smaller.
Itzel sighed. Oh, Ramon, why couldn’t you keep your mouth closed for once?
A bright red Chevrolet Silverado pick-up drove slowly down the lane in front of Itzel. She watched it turn at the end and then turn again to drive up the lane behind her. Itzel got out of the hire car, leaving the door open in case she needed to get to cover quickly. She stood in the space beside the car, hands out away from her sides a little. The pick-up made another circuit before parking up a few spaces away. The engine chugged, and Itzel could see two shapes behind the tinted glass. Both bulky enough to be male. She resisted looking across to where Yancha and Ramon waited.
The driver’s door opened, and a man emerged. Itzel blinked. He looked about six-five in height and built from solid muscle. His dark hair cropped close showed a military cut that reinforced Itzel’s view that this man was a soldier not just for the High Priest but also for the US Army. He wore jeans, a denim shirt and cowboy boots and walked as if the lower half of his body had no connection to the top. When he stopped, Itzel found the chance to breathe again.
“You are the messenger of Xquic?” When Itzel nodded, he said, “I didn’t expect your call.”
“The gods move in ways that we can never understand,” Itzel said.
His eyes roved across the lot. “What do you want us to do?”
“The gods are seeking a child. She can spirit walk and is a danger to us. We know now that she has spirit guardians as well as human ones. We need you to kill her.”
“A child?” he frowned.
“A threat to our gods. They wish her dead and we are bound to their duty.”
He nodded slowly. “We came north when I was three-years-old. So many years without contact or the reassurance of our faith.”
“I can help,” Itzel said. She walked to the trunk of the car and released the catch. The goddess waited for her and Itzel carried the statuette to him like a wife presenting a first-born child to her husband.
For a moment, she thought the man would fall to his knees, but he caught himself, realising that would attract attention. He held the goddess, and Itzel saw tears in his eyes as he brought the carving to his lips and kissed it.
His voice shook as he said, “My friend?” Itzel nodded, and he turned to beckon his companion from the Silverado.
The second man was smaller and looked similar in build to a long-distance runner. He gasped when he saw the statuette.
“I didn’t think it was possible.”
The first man said, “My name is...”
Itzel held up a hand to stop him. “We have no need of names. Is it you two?”
“There is a third man, he is on duty today and couldn’t be here.”
Itzel repeated the orders so the second man could hear them. He didn’t even take his eyes from the goddess as he nodded his understanding. She added, “The High Priest only knows her name is Emily and she is under care at a military hospital. The gods have told him she is there.”
“We will find her,” the first man said. “The first chance the three of us get to be off-duty together is tomorrow morning. We can kill her then.”
Itzel took the goddess back. The face on the statuette seemed to be smiling. “The gods need you to succeed.”
“We will. It is why we were born.”
Itzel didn’t want to talk about death. But she had to. “There is little chance of escape.”
“We knew that from the day we came north,” the first man said. “Our enemies have flooded the land, and all we can do is drown.”
“The goddess will care for your souls,” Itzel said.
The men smiled and returned to their pick-up. The engine seemed to roar like a victorious beast as they drove out of the lot. Itzel returned the goddess to the trunk of the car and by the time she finished Yancha and Ramon returned.
“It’s done?” Yancha asked.
“Yes.” Itzel smiled at them; her spirits lifted again. “By the time they carry out their orders we will be hundreds of miles away.”
“Good.” Yancha grinned, Itzel’s lighter mood was infectious. He poked Ramon in the ribs. “I might even let you drive the next leg. It will keep your mind off Itzel.”
“Only if I am in the back and out of sight,” Itzel laughed. “Which means you, Yancha, will have to sit up front and keep Ramon happy.”
And I can always reach around and cut your throat if you annoy me.
Chapter Eight
“They’re doing what?” Geordie’s chair fell backwards on the hardwood floor of the Ops Room as he leapt to his feet.
“Sending two psychics on a spirit walk to look for Alex.” The messenger’s face paled as the ex-special ops soldier glared at him.
“When and where?” Geordie growled.
“The sleep rooms. Now. Look, I only mentioned it because–”
“Not your fault.” Geordie put up a hand. “Who decided this?”
“I guess Marcus Holdstock. Norma Johnstone hasn’t been in today.”
“Wanker,” Geordie said. He focussed on the young man in front of him. “Holdstock, not you.”
“Had me worried then.” Josh Inglis tried a laugh, but it came out more like strangled yelp.
“I bet,” Geordie said as he picked his chair up. He saw Daisy wander in, stopping to say hello to a couple of friends as she made her way towards him. “Oi, Sweetie, stop gassing and get over here now. We’ve got a problem.”
Daisy came over. “Anyone ever suggested you go on a diversity awareness course?” she asked Geordie.
“No,” he said, “they wouldn’t dare.” He pointed at Josh. “Matey boy here has just told me that Holdstock is sending two psychics out looking for Alex.”
“When?” Daisy’s voice sounded as hard as Geordie’s.
“Now,” Josh said, as he retreated a pace. He’d been through some hard, physical training in his time but this couple scared him.
“Fucking idiot,” Daisy said.
Geordie laughed. “She’s talking about Holdstock, not you,” he said to Josh.
“Has to be him, doesn’t it,” Daisy said.
“Only one it could be, Sweetie.”
“How do we stop it?” Daisy asked.
“You can’t,” Josh said. “It’s already underway.”
Geordie figured he must be getting old if kids like Josh were let out in the wild of the intelligence services. Josh had neat, dark hair and skin so smooth it didn’t look like it had ever met a razor. He felt like asking Josh what the kid’s mother had put in his Peppa Pig lunchbox today but realised that went a bit far in the humour stakes. The lads from 1st Parachute Regiment would take it as a joke, but down here in Sheddlestone Hall they sometimes saw comments like that as being harmful to a team-working environment or some such codswallop. Geordie held back the comment against Josh because the kid hadn’t needed to tell them the information.
“Right then, Josh,” Geordie said. “Take us up to the sleep rooms.”
Josh blinked. “What?” he said. “You know where they are, don’t you?”
“Oh, sure. But we’re not supposed to know what’s going on. If you take us, we’ll say we forced you. If we go up alone, we say you told us. Which one do you prefer?”
“I’ll take you,” Josh said.
Geordie patted him on the shoulder. “Good lad.”
Josh led them up to the third floor. Up here, the rooms were bigger and quieter and where most of the research took place. Geordie didn’t like it. Scientists were clever, no doubt about it, but sometimes they were too clever. Like this spirit walk bullshit. What kind of scientific idiot agreed to throw two more psychics to the unknown wolves? If there were unknown wolves.
Josh reached a door marked Sleep Rooms and opened it. The moment they entered Geordie and Daisy sensed the tension. No-one noticed they’d come in. All attention seemed riveted on the middle-aged man and elderly woman who occupied two narrow beds.
“Oh, Jesus,” Geordie said out loud. “They’ve well and truly fucked up this time.”
***
Alex looked up as the darkness lifted. He saw, for the first time, that what he’d thought was an opening to the sky was a layer of reinforced concrete. The creatures that had trapped him down here made it into a lid, blocking off the outside world.
Now, with the cover gone, he saw the clouds once more. This time they seemed a lighter grey. Still dark and threatening. But maybe a hint of sunlight breaking through the violent storm?
He heard a rush of air and saw one of the gods appear. The jaguar’s head snarled, fetid breath spilling into Alex’s face and making him gag. The chains still bound him to the wall and grew tighter as the god stalked around the floor of the basement. Lightning flickered overhead, illuminating the basement like a photographer’s flashbulb. Jaguar-head paused and listened. Alex did the same, straining against the rushing of the wind to hear voices calling out.
What were they saying? Alex closed his eyes. The heat of the god’s breath brushed across his face.
The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3) Page 12