The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3)

by Neil Carstairs

  “No, I told you, it’s a guess.” Ben sighed, closed the screen and said, “How long are we going to sit here?”

  “Another hour. The aircrew needed downtime.”

  “What do we do in the meantime?” Ben kicked his legs back and forth.

  “We could discuss a date for our wedding?”

  “Pick one,” Ben said. “I’ll be there.”

  “Pass me the laptop.” She took it from him and laid it carefully on the deck of the Blackhawk. Then she shoved Ben out of the helicopter. He hit the ground hard, staring up at her in bemusement.

  “What did I say?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Kramer said. “I needed some extra space.”

  Ben got to his feet, brushing grass and dirt from his clothing. “Anyone ever tell you that you play too rough?”

  “Only the ones who survived.” Kramer hopped off the Blackhawk, gave Ben a sweetish smile, and walked over to join the other soldiers.

  ***

  “It’s not far now.”

  Itzel opened her eyes. Her view of the car’s interior made her think of a jail. The striped material on the back of the driver’s seat resembled prison bars. Itzel thought that prison would be a welcome escape from the High Priest.

  And the god.

  They had been joined in the car at some point during the night by a man with the head of a jaguar. He sat up front, staring out at the snow-capped mountains and the tree covered slopes. Itzel knew why he had appeared; to control her. The High Priest had work to do, and this god would be her guardian. She wanted to ask him why. All the years of service and devotion. She had worshipped these gods, believed in them with faith as hard as a rock. At the High Priest’s calling, she had gone to foreign lands and killed in their name. Now she was their victim.

  She sat up, rubbing feeling back into limbs made numb by the lack of room on the back seat. The god turned its head. Its golden eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire. It held Itzel in a hypnotic stare for a moment before looking forward once more.

  “Now we are almost here can you tell me where we are?”

  “Yellowstone National Park,” he said, over his shoulder.

  “And is this the Place of Retribution.”

  “It is.”

  Itzel looked out of the windows. They drove near a wide lake, its water’s sparkling in the morning sun. This looked like a slice of paradise. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “And ugly.”

  They passed a general store and drove over a bridge. Itzel saw adults and children paddling in the shallow water. Pine trees clustered close to the water’s edge as the road curved away from the lake and cut back into the woodland. “Why do you say ugly?”

  “This is ugly.” He waved a hand at the surrounding landscape. “But what lies beneath is beautiful.”

  Itzel frowned, but before she could ask what he meant the Hight Priest slowed the car and turned across the carriageway, following signs to a lakeside hotel. Now she got another view of the lake, a vast expanse of water where the trees on far shore seemed nothing more than toys. The High Priest guided their car to a halt in front of a two-storey building constructed from local stone and timber. He switched the engine off and turned to Itzel.

  “You will be my wife. I will tell them that you are feeling unwell and need to go straight to our room, I will ask that you are not disturbed.”

  “They won’t have any rooms free,” Itzel said. “Have you seen how many visitors there are?”

  “The room has been booked for a month now.”

  “Why?” Itzel asked as the High Priest stepped out of the car.

  He didn’t reply until he opened her door and helped her out with a sharp hand on the arm. “I told you,” he said.

  Itzel allowed the High Priest to lead her into the reception area. The hotel, as she expected, was fitted out to match the area. Two huge elk-heads looked down upon her, their glassy stares reminding Itzel of the god. No feeling or warmth. Only death. The High Priest did the talking. The receptionist, a pretty blonde girl in her late teens with the name badge ‘Ruby’, showed some concern for Itzel and offered to call the local doctor. The High Priest waved the offer away, telling Ruby the illness had all the hallmarks of a 24-hour bug. Ruby gave Itzel a sympathetic smile and handed the room card over to the High Priest with a bright ‘Enjoy your stay with us.’

  “I’m sure we will,” the High Priest said as he led Itzel towards their ground floor room.

  In the room, the High Priest pushed Itzel onto the bed. The god materialised in one corner, watching her with eternal patience. Itzel ignored it, she sat up with her back to the headboard and stared at the wall opposite. With a god on guard duty, she had little hope of escape. If she got a chance, then a message to Ruby could reach the relevant authorities. Not the local sheriff. She needed people who understood gods to come and help her. And the only people she knew who fitted that bill were the ones holding Ramon.

  Ramon. It’s too late now, but I wish I’d taken the chance with you.

  ***

  “They’ve stopped.” Kramer’s shout reached Ben as he tried to figure out why soldiers thought competitive push-ups were a good idea. The leader, a big black guy by the name of Ranson, reached one-hundred-six as Kramer jogged over. His nearest rival, Jason Buhl, struggled on a mere ninety. Ben, off to one side as the lone judge, wanted to call time but the bunching of Ranson’s muscles as he powered through one-ten made him a mite jealous. Would Kramer want him to bulk up a bit once they were official? Did she look at the guys she worked with and pause to admire them as men not as colleagues? Not the kind of topic to raise with her. Ben called time as Kramer reached them, pronouncing Ranson the winner to whoops of delight from the other troopers who’d failed to make the final contest.

  Buhl rolled onto his back, his face shining with sweat and looked up as Ben held Ranson’s hand up as champion. “Doing one-fifty in the semi-final wrecked me,” he said, between breaths.

  Ranson grinned down and said, “Loser.”

  “You guys finished your macho routine?” Kramer asked

  “Guess so,” Ranson said, in a Louisianan accent. “Unless Ben wants to challenge me for the crown?”

  “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” Ben said, with a grin.

  Even Kramer laughed at that, before saying, “The targets have stopped at a hotel in Yellowstone National Park. General Dawson wants us to fly up to Riverton. We’ll hire vehicles from there. Scarrett, you get the honour of going with me to the hotel to find out what the targets are doing. The rest of you will find a local camp site and provide backup if needed.”

  “If needed?” Ben asked in shock. “Don’t you mean when needed?”

  She gave him a pitying smile. “Dawson wants this handled as softly as possible. There are too many civilians around. He doesn’t want another Darlford, especially in Yellowstone, because we won’t be able to keep a lid on it like the Brits did.”

  Ben shook his head in disgust. Of all the stupid things to hear, this one took first prize. He trailed the others to the Blackhawk as the aircrew made final pre-flight checks. As the troops climbed in, he sidled up to Kramer and whispered, “You ever think Dawson might have a screw loose?”

  “No.” She sounded in the kind of mood that meant trouble was coming their way. “But you, all the time.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Ben hopped onboard.

  “Think nothing of it,” Kramer said, as she dumped herself next to him. “Relax, up to now, we’ve always turned up too late to the party. This time we have an early invitation, and I’m not going to let these people off the hook again.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ben said, as the twin-engines kicked into life with a high whine.

  From their overnight camp to Riverton took ninety minutes. They spent another thirty minutes sorting kit out in a quiet corner of the airport before driving four hired SUVs into the town and maxing out the DSI credit card buying civilian clothing. Ben and Kramer set out ahead of the ot
hers for the four-hour drive from Riverton to the hotel. Yellowstone grew out of the landscape around them. Haunting and beautiful.

  “You ever come here as a kid?” Kramer asked.

  “Once.” Ben let his gaze wander from snowy peaks to tree-carpeted hillsides.

  “Did you see Old Faithful?”

  “Sure, everyone who comes here has to see it. Pretty impressive. In fact, all the geysers, hot springs and mud pots are. You know there’s a volcano underneath us?”

  “I heard something,” Kramer said, passing a slow-moving camper on a straight piece of road.

  “I mean the whole place is volcanic, that’s where all the heat come from for the geysers and the like, but this one is a super-volcano. Scientists reckon if it ever blows then you can wave goodbye to most of North America and probably the world as the dust cloud spreads.”

  “I’ve seen the movie,” Kramer said. “Or maybe that was a different volcano.”

  “It won’t be like the movies,” Ben said. “No dashing hero to save the damsel in distress.”

  “You mean I can’t depend on you?” she gave him a sidelong look.

  “Kramer, seriously? This volcano kicks off we’re not just toast but par-boiled toast.”

  “Then let’s hope it doesn’t kick off,” Kramer said.

  They drove in silence, admiring the vista. Each turn in the road opened a new book, and even Kramer’s battle-hardened heart seemed to soften. They saw herds of elk and pronghorn, and Ben kept looking out for bears but saw none as they began to follow the shoreline of Yellowstone Lake. Kramer saw a viewpoint at the lakeside and pulled in. She pointed Ben out of the car, and they walked to the knee-high wooden fence and looked out over the water. She took his hand in hers without a word. Ben let the silence wrap around them. He breathed in the scent of pine, the chill air coming off the lake and the sense of calm.

  The calm before the storm.

  “I’m with you on this one,” Kramer said, out of the blue.

  “You are?” Ben had no idea what she meant.

  “Going into the hotel like we’re on vacation. These people are ruthless. Look what happened to the cops in Lavonia. It won’t be either guns or gods. We’re going to face both.”

  “Nice to know you’ve got such a positive outlook,” Ben said, turning to face her.

  “Yeah, and you know what? Having you at my side is a bonus. Despite everything, Scarrett, I’ve come to depend on you. You know that?”

  “I didn’t know that,” Ben said. He had a warm feeling inside. He kissed her. “Want to go save the world?”

  “Sure thing, I don’t want my wedding plans ruined.”

  ***

  “Welcome to the Hotel by the Lake.”

  The girl on reception had the name tag ‘Ruby’, and Ben saw her smile as completely natural, not like some of the forced smiles he got in most hotels. He liked her for it as she tapped on a keyboard and found the reservation that the DSI technicians back in Fort Bragg had hacked into the hotel’s system. Unfortunately, it wiped the smile from her face and replaced it with a frown.

  “That’s odd.” Her fingers rattled a few more keys. She moved the mouse and clicked. Then clicked a few more times as the frown deepened.

  “Is there a problem?” Kramer asked, with an air of innocence.

  “Um.” Ruby looked up. “I’ll get the duty manager.”

  Ben tried to lean over the reception counter as Ruby disappeared into a back office but couldn’t get the angle he wanted. He dropped back as Ruby returned with a portly, bearded man in tow.

  “It’s probably not updated,” the guy said to Ruby as he took control of the keyboard. A minute later he scratched his chin, glanced at Ruby, and said to Ben and Kramer. “We seem to have a slight issue.”

  “Oh?” Kramer said.

  “Your booking is here. All ratified and paid for. But we don’t have a room for you.”

  “You don’t? But we got the acknowledgement email.”

  “I’m sorry.” He put his hand out. “Fred Esterhaus, Assistant Manager. Something has glitched in the system but we don’t let our customers down, do we, Ruby?”

  “No, sir,” Ruby said, sounding like Doris Day in Calamity Jane, Ben thought.

  Fred drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Your booking is for three nights, and as it happens, our Executive Suite is available for that time. I can give you a free upgrade, plus a complimentary bottle of champagne. Does that sound okay?”

  “That sounds fantastic.” Kramer dazzled Fred with her Number One smile. Ben thought the poor guy was going to faint as he basked in the glow. “Thank you, Fred.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Fred said with a grin. He glanced at Ruby. “Can you sort things from here?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ruby said. Ben expected her to slap a thigh and do a ‘yee-ha’ as well but came away disappointed as she slipped a key card into a machine and a moment later handed it over. “Do you need help with your bags?”

  “No,” Kramer said. “I’ve got Scarrett here to do all my heavy lifting.”

  “Great.” Ruby grinned. “You can take the stairs or the elevator to the suite. You’ll find it at the end of the corridor to the left. I’m sorry about the problems with your booking and hope you enjoy your stay.”

  “I’m sure we will.” Kramer led Ben to the stairs, watching with a wry smile as he struggled with their bags.

  Ben stayed quiet as he tracked Kramer up to the next floor and along the corridor. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of hearing him complain.

  Kramer opened the door to the Executive Suite. “Wow.”

  When she walked in it gave Ben a chance to see the open space with floor to ceiling windows looking out over Yellowstone Lake. He dumped the bags with relief and joined her, taking in the view.

  “Nice,” he said.

  “Nice?” Kramer looked at him open-mouthed. “Unless you’re in Paris or Rome this has got to be one of the best views from a hotel in the world.”

  “Okay. It’s very nice.”

  “C’mon, Scarrett, admit it. This is fantastic.”

  He took a step back, so Kramer came into view as well. “It is now,” he said.

  “You know, sometimes I think you say the sweetest of things.” Kramer put her hand in the centre of his chest and pushed Ben back step-by-step until his legs hit the bed and he sat down. “And because of that, I think you deserve a reward.”

  “What’s the reward?” Ben asked as Kramer pulled off her shirt.

  “Me,” she said.

  ***

  “I didn’t know that was part of our mission profile,” Ben said, a half-hour later. Kramer sprawled across him, her eyes half-closed against the bright sunlight spilling in through the picture windows. He saw her lips twitch into a smile.

  “I’m in charge, remember?”

  “How could I forget.” Ben ran a hand down the smooth, warm skin of her back.

  “I meant,” Kramer said. “That as I’m lead of this mission, I get to call the changes if the situation requires it.”

  “And what about our targets?” Ben gave a little nudge so she slipped off and he could move closer to her and kiss her shoulder. “You might have sapped my energy too much if we’re going after them.”

  “I have?” Kramer sounded surprised. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.” She turned, wrapping her arms around him. “I wanted to get some downtime in before the action starts. One look at the size of this bed and I figured we’d better make use of it before we go make the acquaintance of this Itzel girl and her High Priest.”

  “Do we have to?” Ben gave her the kind of kiss he hoped would get her mind back in bed.

  “We have to,” Kramer said. “But not straight away.”

  Twenty minutes in bed and another twenty in a walk-in shower bigger than the bathroom of Ben’s apartment back home and the two of them sat, fully dressed, looking at the lake as the
sun sparkled off the rippling surface. Kramer spoke to Buhl by phone and arranged for three of the team to come down to the hotel and position themselves outside reception. Ben opened their cases and took out their guns, TacOps variants of the Sig-Sauer P226. When they were ready, Kramer made a call to Fort Bragg and spoke to one of the programmers.

  Kramer liked simple plans. She wanted to talk to Itzel alone, which meant getting her friend out of the room. The programmer hacked back into the hotel system and re-set the payment on the target’s room so it showed as declined. He then pulled a live feed of the hotel’s security cameras. Ben and Kramer sat in silence, each stuck with their thoughts as the programmer hummed his way through a couple of Kings of Leon tracks before he said,

  “We’ve got movement. Call made from reception and our male target is out of the room and heading downstairs.”

  Before he’d even finished talking, Kramer led Ben out of their room at a run. A couple of other guests gave them funny looks as they hustled along a wood-lined corridor to find the target’s room. Kramer held her phone, the line still open to the programmer.

  “Where is he?”

  “At the reception desk talking to staff. Looks a pretty heated conversation from here, wish I could get audio as well.”

  “Ping me when he leaves.”

  “Will do.”

  Kramer disconnected. She put the phone in a pocket and pulled her gun. “You know what to do?” she said.

  He knocked on the door and said, “Room service.”

  Nothing happened. Ben rapped the door again, harder this time and raised his voice, “Room service.”

  “What do you want?” a woman’s voice came through the closed door. Itzel.

  “We need to check the number of occupants of the room,” Ben said.

  For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t respond and then the sound of a chain and bolt moving reached him. The door cracked open. Ben pushed hard, driving her back. He got a hand on her blouse in the centre of her chest and continued his thrust, keeping Itzel on her feet and under control with the muzzle of his P226 planted between her eyes. Kramer followed, kicking the door shut.