The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3)

by Neil Carstairs

  Ramon looked at the phone. Dawson could see uncertainty race across Ramon’s face. The younger man seemed torn. Part of him knew making the call would be a mistake. The rest wanted to talk to Itzel, tell her to surrender even if the Yankee was lying about a deal. The alternative would be they track her down and kill her.

  With a slow, almost regretful motion, Ramon picked his phone up. He keyed in the pin code, scrolled to Itzel’s number and called her.

  Dawson waited. Ramon coughed to clear his throat. Then he spoke, “Itzel? Can you talk?”

  A muted response. Dawson wished he’d told Ramon to put the call on speaker.

  “The others are dead. The acolytes and Yancha. The Yankees killed them.”

  She must have questioned Ramon. He hesitated, looked at Dawson and said in a rush, “They captured me. Itzel, they’ve made an offer. It’s not you that they want, it’s the High Priest. Surrender to them and give them the High Priest and they won’t...Itzel? Itzel, are you there?”

  Ramon ended the call. He tried to re-connect, but it went straight to voicemail. “She’s gone,” he said.

  “It was a good try.” Dawson walked over and took the phone from Ramon. He flipped it to Pruitt who tapped the screen to keep it live.

  Ramon put his head in his hands. He began to sob. “I’ve killed her, haven’t I?”

  “Only if she doesn’t surrender,” Dawson said.

  ***

  “The Place of Retribution,” Kramer repeated the phrase to Ben an hour later as they sat in a diner north-east of Atlanta, Georgia.

  Ben sighed. “Why am I not surprised it’s called that? The Place of Retribution sounds like somewhere to avoid.”

  “We may not be able to.” Kramer sat back and signalled a waitress for more coffee. “It’s our job, remember?”

  “How can I forget.” Ben waited for their cups to be topped up before he said, “Did Dawson say how Emily and Pete are holding up?”

  “Not good. Emily is shut away in her room, and Pete is demanding they be transferred out of the US until we’ve tracked down whoever is pushing the attacks.”

  “They could go back to the UK,” Ben suggested. “Sheddlestone Hall has spare rooms and plenty of security.”

  “But our relationship with the Brits has fallen apart. I doubt they would take her.”

  “Dawson might be able to sort something.” Ben sipped a mouthful of coffee.

  “If he’s not too busy with this Ramon guy they captured,” Kramer said. “Seems he’s singing like a canary.”

  “Yeah, but a canary who doesn’t know all the words and is humming most of the tune. He doesn’t know where the Place of Retribution is. He knows this High Priest and Itzel changed cars but doesn’t know what they’re driving now. All he knows is that she didn’t kill anyone.”

  “You sound very jaded, Scarrett,” Kramer said, with a smile.

  “I feel it. Don’t you ever get the feeling we seem to be chasing shadows?”

  “Sometimes, and other times I know we’re a step behind them.”

  “What did Dawson suggest we do?” Ben wanted more than anything for Kramer to tell him that they would be heading back to base. That one of the rapid response teams the DSI had on standby 24-hours a day would undertake the next action.

  “Stick around here. If we get any hard intel, we can move on it.”

  Ben asked the question he didn’t want to ask. “What about Emily? Can she help?”

  “You think Pete will want her involved?” Kramer asked.

  “It would help in catching her mom’s killers.” As soon as he said it, Ben realised he’d chosen the wrong words.

  “Oh, so will you be the one to go and ask Emily to track down the people who organised Jane’s murder? Ever heard of the word insensitive?” Kramer pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’m going for a walk. You hold the table while I’m gone.”

  Ben watched Kramer walk out of the diner. He noticed a lot of the other guys follow her with their eyes as well. Some of them would be thinking ‘she’s not wearing a ring’. Kramer walked across the parking lot and leaned against their SUV, tilting her head back to catch the sun on her face.

  I need to resign. Then I need to propose. Or should I do it the other way around?

  He picked up his phone. Scrolled through the contacts to Dawson’s name and stared at it like he couldn’t read. Can I do this?

  Without conscious thought, his thumb touched Dawson’s name, and the ‘call in progress’ icon popped up. Shit.

  Dawson answered on the first ring. Ben swallowed, his mouth dry all of a sudden. “Hello, sir, it’s Ben Scarrett. Do you have a couple of minutes’ spare?”

  Ten minutes later, Kramer came back to the table to find Ben staring out of the window. She sat opposite him, and when he didn’t react, she waved her hand in front of his face and said, “Planet Earth to Scarrett. Come in Scarrett.”

  “I’m here.”

  “So why the long face?” Kramer reached out and nudged his arm.

  “I did it,” he said.

  “Did what?”

  “Told Dawson I’m quitting.”

  Kramer sat quite still. “You did it?”

  “Didn’t I just say that?” Ben looked at her in exasperation.

  “No. I mean, you did it.” She shook her head. “I didn’t think you would. I mean I know you were serious when you were talking about it, but I thought it was a phase, and you’d pull through.”

  “You make it sound like I’m sick or something,” Ben said. “Not wanting to get beaten up by succubi or eaten by demons is an illness in your book, not a sensible decision by a rational mind.”

  “But what...” Kramer stopped.

  “But what-what?” Ben almost laughed.

  “What about me?” she asked in an odd voice.

  “You can carry on working for the DSI. I’m not going to stop you.”

  Kramer shook her head. “What did Dawson say?”

  “He was surprised. He said he’d get the paperwork ready but wanted me to stay on until we’ve finished with this mission. I said yes to that.”

  “Hot damn.” Kramer put her hands on the surface of the table and stared at them.

  “You okay?” Ben asked when a minute ticked by and she didn’t speak.

  “No.” She stood up again. “Let’s go.”

  “Where to?” Ben asked in surprise.

  “Anywhere, we’ll drive.”

  Ben followed Kramer out of the diner. She walked fast, clipped strides that told him a lot about her emotional state. In the car, with Ben in the passenger seat and Kramer at the wheel, she said, “Don’t ask me to marry you.”

  She stayed quite still, and Ben studied her profile. He’d done that a lot in the months he’d got to know her. A lot of miles had passed under them, most with Kramer driving, so he knew the shape of her face. “Why?” he asked.

  “Because it won’t work out. The separations will be too much. Any time we have together will be limited. You’ll want to do things. I’ll want to crash out. We’ll argue. Better you quit the DSI, and we stay in touch as friends.”

  Ben could tell Kramer believed every word she’d said. A cold feeling crept into his chest. She still didn’t look at him. “Kramer,” he said.

  She put up a hand, “No. Don’t Kramer me.”

  “Okay,” Ben took a breath. “Joanne, I...”

  Now she turned to stare at him. “You called me Joanne.”

  “I know. It’s your name.”

  “I know it’s my name. I’ve had it since birth, but you’ve never called me Joanne in all the time I’ve known you.”

  “I must have,” Ben said.

  “Nope.” Kramer shook her head.

  “Not even once?” Ben frowned. “Not even when we...”

  “Not even then.” Kramer folded her arms and leaned back against the driver’s door, fixing him with a glare that said all was not lost. Sometimes Kramer put up this shell around herself. Ben figured it had something to do with l
osing her father when she was an eight-year-old. He’d grown used to this look. She built a defence, and he needed to break through.

  “I understand,” he said.

  “Do you?” She started the engine but let it idle as she chewed her bottom lip.

  “You know,” Ben said, “that when you do that, you look real sexy.”

  She stopped doing it. “Lucky I don’t do it very often then.”

  “Only when you’re deep in thought. It’s a sub-conscious thing. You don’t realise that you’re doing it.”

  “Are you serious? You mean you watch me do it and think it’s hot or something?”

  “You’re hot all over.” Ben reached out, put his hand on her thigh and waited for the explosion. It never came. She put her hand on his and linked their fingers. The silence lengthened, and Ben watched her profile. After about two minutes, she smiled.

  “Why did you resign over the phone? Too scared to face Dawson in person?”

  “Yeah. Dawson’s got his ferocious image off perfect.”

  “Coward.”

  “You know me so well.” Ben squeezed her hand. She looked at him.

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “Only until you get some leave, and then we’ll spend so much time together you’ll be eager to get away from me.”

  “True.” Kramer had a smile on her face that made Ben want to kiss her.

  “I was thinking,” Ben said, after the kiss.

  “That’s dangerous.”

  “I know, but it happened all the same. It was when you were walking out of the diner. A lot of the guys in there were watching you, and I realised you’re missing something.”

  “I am?” She’d moved closer for the kiss and now leaned back a little to study him.

  “Yeah, an engagement ring.”

  “Wow, Scarrett, is this your romantic moment?”

  “I think it might be.” He brushed a few strands of blonde hair away from her face.

  “In that case, you need to go down on one knee,” she said, releasing his hand and sitting back.

  “It’s a bit awkward in here.” Ben gestured around the interior of the SUV.

  “So get out.” Spoken with the kind of smile that made him nervous.

  “What, now?”

  “Sure.” Kramer drew the word out. She switched the engine off, opened her door and stepped out. Ben watched her walk around the front of the car. She beckoned to him.

  He got the feeling, as he joined her in front of the Suburban, that every pair of eyes in the diner and the parking lot were watching him.

  “Here’s a good place,” Kramer said. “Nice and romantic, don’t you think?”

  “We could always go into downtown Atlanta. Find a restaurant and have a candlelit meal.”

  “I can always make you go down on one knee,” Kramer said, ignoring him. “But it might hurt.”

  Ben could tell that Kramer enjoyed his discomfort. Maybe proposing in front of a government SUV parked up outside a diner hadn’t been such a great idea. He looked at the ground and kicked some dust away with his shoe.

  “Well?” Kramer asked.

  Ben started to lower himself down when she laughed, grabbed his arm and pulled him close. “Are you kidding me? You’d do it here?”

  “Yeah,” Ben said, enjoying her embrace. “Of course, anything for you.”

  Kramer kissed him so hard he thought his lips would bruise. “You reckon we’ve got time to find a restaurant in Atlanta?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Ben said, in the moment before her phone started ringing.

  ***

  For once the High Priest drove their car, keeping to the speed limit as other vehicles whisked by on the interstate. Itzel couldn’t remember how long it took her to persuade him to drive. Four hours? Maybe more? He only agreed when she dozed off, and the car touched the rumble strip as it veered slowly off course. Itzel jerked the car back into its lane, wide-awake again as a car shot past with horn blaring. She found the High Priest staring at her from the passenger seat.

  “I think I will drive after all,” he said.

  Sure, right after coming face-to-face with death by road accident. Itzel thanked him and took the next off-ramp before finding a quiet spot to park up so they could swap places. She fell asleep straight away but didn’t get much rest. The dream returned, and if she tried to run it followed her. The haunting landscape kept pace as Itzel ran across a land as barren and desolate as a desert. When she woke, her face bathed in sweat and heart beating fast, the High Priest nodded at her as if satisfied by the terror that she had encountered.

  Now, another two hours down the road and getting closer to their destination her phone rang. She saw the name on display and frowned. Why would Ramon call? She couldn’t ignore it. The High Priest already cast an odd glance her way as Itzel tried to delay answering and let the call go to voicemail. She accepted the call and a minute later wished she hadn’t.

  Ramon’s tumble of words merged and scared her. She tried to stop him, knowing that the Yankees would be able to identify her phone and trace it. She needed him off the line. His next words made her blood run cold.

  ‘Surrender to them and give them the High Priest and they won’t...’

  She pulled the phone from her ear and ended the call. The menu screen appeared, taunting her with its colourful array of apps. Itzel didn’t feel colourful. Darkness filled her. Yancha dead. Ramon a prisoner.

  Oh, Ramon. Why?

  She held the power button down and turned the phone off. Then, with the High Priest watching her, she levered off the back and took the battery out. Behind that lay the sim card. She slid the sim out. Itzel dropped phone, battery and sim into the space on the central console reserved for drinks.

  “What’s all that about?” the High Priest asked.

  Itzel wanted more than anything to lie. She wanted to make up a story that would put him off the scent. But she couldn’t because this man could commune with the gods. He would discover the truth at some point, and her life could be forfeit.

  “That was Ramon. The others are dead, he survived and is now a prisoner.”

  “How could he phone you if he’s...” the High Priest trailed off as he thought of the answer to his question. He steered the vehicle out of the lane, and they bumped to a halt on the rough grass that ran alongside the highway.

  Itzel edged away from him as far as she could go. When he faced her, she saw his features begin to transform. His skin roughened, smooth flesh replaced by dried out old leather. His eyes turned crimson, and she saw a single, bloody tear run down his cheek. A hand, calloused and tipped by yellowing nails the length of her fingers, reached out and tangled in her hair. Itzel heard a mewl of fear escape her throat as he dragged her across to him. Hot, fetid breath washed over her. Bile filled her mouth.

  “She destroyed him,” the thing that the High Priest had become said.

  The hand twisted, bending Itzel’s head back. She heard the bones in her neck grind together as the disks between vertebrae compressed. Now her fear became edged with pain and she cried out. The sound made him loosen his hold. Flesh began to regenerate. His eyes faded from crimson to brown. The High Priest released her. Itzel fell back against the passenger door. The car rocked as a truck drove by, reminding Itzel of where they were.

  “We need to move,” she said. “Highway Patrol or State troopers will investigate if they see us here.”

  “She destroyed him,” the High Priest said as he checked the mirrors and got them moving.

  “Who?” Itzel asked, as she settled herself back into the seat.

  “The girl. She destroyed the god sent to kill her.”

  Now Itzel fell silent, not quite able to believe him. “A child overcame a god?”

  “With help. But the power to do it came from the girl.”

  “She must be...” Itzel trailed off.

  “Yes,” the High Priest said, as if he knew her unfinished sentence.

  They drove on another ten miles before
they saw a sign for a picnic area. The High Priest followed the arrows and parked up amongst a dozen other cars. A few people sat at tables out in a park; others remained in their cars dozing. Itzel expected the High Priest to say something about the girl. When he didn’t, she said, “I thought you were going to kill me back there.”

  “I would never kill you. You are carrying my child.”

  Itzel put her hand on her abdomen. She could feel warmth, and for some strange reason she thought she could feel a change in the shape of her body. The High Priest saw her looking down, smoothing the fabric of her t-shirt to see if there was a bulge.

  “This child is different,” he said. “This child is a demi-god.”

  His words made the hair on the back of Itzel’s neck stand up. “What do you mean?”

  “He will be the one to offer salvation at the end of the world.”

  Time seemed to stand still for Itzel. The smile on his face taunted her. Scorching heat filled her throat. She pushed the door open, leaned out and puked onto the gravel lot. Itzel hung there for another moment, aware of people staring. She threw up again, waited for thirty seconds and then relaxed. She sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “The end of the world?”

  “Yes.” He smiled.

  Itzel tried to imagine the end of the world. “If the world ends how do I survive?”

  “We will go to the Place of Retribution,” the High Priest said. “The gods will trigger the end and your child will be born into the world after, to rule it as flesh and blood.”

  “If I am to be the mother of a god, why can’t you tell me where we are going?”

  “Because the gods told me not to trust you.” The High Priest reached out, his hand cupped one breast and squeezed. “I enjoyed our conception. It would be good to repeat it, but there is no need.”

  Itzel saw the desire in his eyes. Despite everything, he still carried some traits of a human. Whether he was a man or a beast from pre-history, he wanted her. Itzel pulled her t-shirt out of her jeans and guided his hand beneath it. He growled, stroking the soft skin of her stomach and rising to find her breast again. Itzel smiled, “You want me?”