by Seeley James
When I was satisfied they were definitely asleep, I greased the zipper to quiet my pull and slowly opened it.
Crouch-walking my way in, I stabbed each guy with a Sabel Dart, then waited. No one moved outside. No footsteps approached. No communication devices squawked. I checked their faces. Both were men. Neither of them was Cherry.
I crept to the next tent. I repeated the same cautious approach. I quickly stabbed darts in three men, then held my pistol to the nose of the fourth. He had a swollen eye and a broken nose.
He was a sound sleeper. I nudged him three times before he awoke. His eyes crossed when they focused on the long silencer. Slowly, his gaze rose to meet mine. He hadn’t seen me when I knocked him unconscious, but he recognized me anyway. These guys had done their homework.
“Danny sends his greetings,” I said. “He couldn’t make it in person, but he’s with you in the spirit of the brightness. Whatever the fuck that means. So, listen up. I’ve got one simple question for you, then I’m on my way. Where is Cherry?”
He resigned himself to his fate. His eyes closed as he said a silent prayer, then opened again with ferocity. He managed to cry out a warning as he took a swing at me. Lying on your side is not a good launching point for a punch. I stabbed him with a dart.
So far, the trap had failed to materialize. Which meant I was standing in a residual camp. Maybe the Batmobile they hired to exit the region was short seven seats.
I trotted out into the dark, found an ambush point, and waited for the lone watchman to return. He did. At a gallop. Sad when you think about it. All that professionalism while on duty and he let his instinct to rescue his friends rule his temperament. He never saw me. Ran right past the tree I was using for cover and straight into the Sabel Dart I held in his path.
That freed me up to wander the camp looking for clues. I found their lighting system, three solar-charged LEDs without much juice left. I got a look at the outside of the tents before the lights went out. Under a tarp, a stack of clean shovels, and a couple dirty ones stood in a staging area. A well-used wheelbarrow filled with fresh 2x4s waited for someone. Several worn and dirty work gloves. These boys had been digging for treasure. Since one could find ancient Mayan pottery by kicking over a rock in this region, the fact there wasn’t any stacked up around the tools told me they were looking for my alabaster albatross.
I pondered their chances of finding it. Either I was totally insane and they would find the thing leaning against a tree where I left it while hallucinating like a hippie on acid—or Seven-Death had my back. And that is the eternal question of faith. Do you believe?
Next up, I went to the big tent, where a central LED lit up the space like daylight. This had been the boss’s headquarters. It was big enough to stand in. In one corner was a plastic chest of drawers. At the far end stood a small table with two chairs. Only the boss gets to eat indoors. Mr. Baldy—the man who executed professors and graduate students—had been here. I inspected the area more closely, my ears vigilant for a noise outside. That trap I feared could still come down on my head at any moment.
Pieces of smooth rope lay in the corner. Nice rope, like you’d use for something indoors. And short, like you’d use to tie a woman’s hands. Considerate of the Knights not to tie her up with zip ties. I found a couple strands of long black hair. Footprints led outside at even strides. Three pairs of men’s shoes, one smaller and therefore most likely Cherry’s. The plastic drawers smelled of gun oil. In one was a receipt for .22LR ammunition from a store in Winnetka, Illinois. The kind used in a Volquartsen Scorpion. A dab of oil had kept it stuck to the back of the flimsy drawer when Mr. Baldy cleared out. I took a picture of it.
I heard running footsteps closing in fast. Too fast to do anything about the lights. I crouched behind the plastic drawers, hoping it would cover my shadow on the outside.
The runner came straight to the tent. I’d left the flap open in case of emergency. A boy, maybe fifteen or so, ran in. His head swiveled in every direction until he saw me rise from the shadows with my 9 mil trained on his forehead. He gulped.
“Where did they take the girl?” I asked.
The boy lacked the dedication of the other Knights. He broke out in a sweat. He trembled.
I grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, the barrel digging into his skin. “Where did they take the girl?”
“Joe Griffith.”
His accent was so thick, it was hard to tell if I heard him right. “Joe Griffith?”
He nodded vigorously, rubbing skin off his forehead on the silencer.
“Where can I find Joe Griffith?”
His eyes fluttered for a moment while he decided what to do. The question that comes to people’s mind when you hold a Glock to their head is, If I tell him, will he kill me anyway? The answer is almost always, Yes. Except, I’m not that guy. The kid sensed that.
With a shaky voice, he said, “Chicago.”
CHAPTER 15
I stormed into the restaurant’s palapa overlooking the lake, hoping they’d leave me alone. They didn’t. They followed me in, all complaining at the same time. Danny had woken up a few miles outside of El Remate and had been yelling at me ever since. Fiona-the-blonde, who’d saved Jenny by stepping on a Knight’s wrist, voiced her displeasure that I’d stopped her man from proving himself. Professor Tum was beside himself with grief. He had anticipated the Hero of Paris would come home with someone who was no longer in the country. The pressure to perform miracles made me feel as if I’d plunged deep into the darkest ocean depths.
Jenny grabbed my hand and squeezed her support for me through it. I gave her an appreciative smile.
“I get it,” I snapped over my shoulder as my entourage harangued me to the table. “I’m a big disappointment. Well, I’m a hungry disappointment and I’m going to eat.”
“I told you, I know how to read the Knights.” Danny took the chair opposite me. Fiona sat next to him. “I could’ve told you what they’re digging for out there.”
Danny glanced at Rafael, realizing too late how it hurt the old man to hear about dirty shovels. Rafael fell into the chair to my left. Jenny took the chair to my right, her empathetic gaze on Rafael Tum.
“Don’t listen to the kid,” I said to Rafael. “She’s alive and well. They’re treating her nicely.”
“They kidnapped her right in front of you,” Danny said. “You call that nice?”
His voice still wavered. Pre-mission anxiety still ate at him even though I’d spared him the indignity of peeing his pants.
“There were four sets of footprints exiting the main tent.” I tried to keep my voice from rising to a shout. “Three man-sized shoes over top of a smaller set. What does that tell you?”
Danny knew what it meant. So did Jenny. Their gazes dropped to the table.
Fiona didn’t. She asked, “I don’t get it. How can you tell they were a woman’s footprints if three men walked on top of them?”
“People don’t have the same stride. There was one small print every third or fourth stride, between the treads in larger sizes. They covered up her first and second strides. Her third and fourth were clear.”
Fiona said, “You say that as if it’s important.”
Jenny put a hand on mine.
Before I could explain, Rafael spoke up. “She led the others. The men followed. That meant they treated her with a little respect. She may have been at gunpoint, but with the ropes off and no sign of struggle, it’s more likely she went willingly.”
Everyone leaned back and thought about why Cherry would go with them.
Danny and Fiona put their heads together and whispered. The only part I could hear was at the end when Fiona said, “…be on the winning side.”
Without the first part of the sentence, it didn’t make sense. I tried to imagine what the first part might’ve been and couldn’t come up with anything good. I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t put why into words.
“They enticed Cherry?” Jenny offered. “Or they thre
atened to hurt you?”
“No enticement would lead her astray.” Rafael cursed in Mayan. We could tell because curses have the same tone of voice in any language. “She fled when they came to Hidalgo’s dig because she recognized them as dangerous. The only reason she would accommodate them was to protect me.”
He turned his gaze to the lake. We watched him, knowing there was nothing we could do to console him.
“Then what were they digging for out there in the middle of nowhere?” Danny asked, his eyes fixed on me.
“They wouldn’t be the first Mayan looters in the Petén Department.” I wasn’t sure if I trusted him with more information than that. He hadn’t mentioned the Stone, only that he knew about the Knights. “What’s your interest in the Knights?”
“They are an ancient society.” Danny pursed his lips as if deciding what and how much to tell. “Benito Mussolini was a Protector of the Knights. So were Ivan the Terrible and Napoleon. The Knights favor centralized power and strong leaders.”
Secret societies, ancient myths, sacred stones. Holy Jupiter. I closed my eyes and wondered if I’d fallen into a terrible Dan Brown novel. Nah. It had to be real—it was too crazy for fiction.
“Fascists.” Jenny let that word escape, then glanced around the table to apologize for interrupting.
“A modern term for an ancient practice,” Danny said. “Before fascists there were kings. Before kings there were chiefs. They see themselves as the guardians of civilization.”
“And what do you see?” I asked.
Danny turned a serious gaze my way. “The same as you—murderers.”
“And what about the Brotherhood of Claritas?” I asked. “What are you after?”
Jenny tried to give me a warning glance. She didn’t like my direct approach. She wanted me to yin my yang. Or whatever. She was right, but it was too late.
Danny took a few seconds to answer. “We do our best to protect the common people from the Knights.”
“So, you’re the good guys.” I couldn’t keep the cynicism out of my voice. “And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”
“I tried to help you.” Danny looked perplexed.
“Look, whatever love-hate relationship you have with these guys is not my problem.”
I didn’t like where this whole Yucatán trip was heading. Ever deeper into something that had nothing to do with me. Danny caught my drift.
I faced Rafael. “What’s your deal? Why did you and Cherry come to me anyway? She said you knew those guys were coming. That means you planned to be at my campsite when they arrived. Instead of warning the others, you came to me for protection. Why?”
“I did warn Hidalgo.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “There are people who study such things and think these are just old tales told by uneducated Mayans to scare their children. Some of those old tales carry truth. How many medicines are derived from ancient remedies? Aspirin, penicillin, morphine. Do the academics believe such things? No, it’s all mythology to them. Not even Cherry believed me. I admit, it sounds outlandish. But that night, I began to doubt myself. I packed enough of our belongings in easy-to-carry packs just in case my fears were realized and went to visit you. Not to seek your protection. Though when my nightmare proved true, I was glad you were there. I appreciate all you have done.”
What he didn’t say felt like a city bus sitting on my shoulders. He still needed my protection. He needed my help to rescue his niece.
Jenny waited for me to say the words. She was ready to go. She believed in me. She wanted a cause to champion. She wanted to save Cherry.
Danny waited for an invitation. But he wasn’t getting one no matter what. I didn’t know why I trusted Rafael Tum, much less Danny. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know Danny’s last name. I’d introduced myself a few hours earlier by my whole name. He’d only responded with his first name. I hadn’t even asked him for ID.
Just as I was about to open my mouth to interrogate the boy, my lost god took a knee between us.
Mercury said, Need I remind you, home slice, that you’ve got a business that isn’t running and your first client, Mikhail Yeschenko, is wondering why you didn’t call at 0500 yesterday.
I said, Yesterday? Wait, did I blow off the most dangerous oligarch in all of Russia?
Mercury said, Look at your phone app.
I did. There was a reminder blinking away. Twenty-six hours overdue. Damn.
I said, What should I do?
Mercury said, Tell these losers to pick up the check. Then start dialing Mikhail-Caesar-Yeschenko for an advance while you drive to the nearest airport and get started finding Yuri Belenov.
I said, I thought you wanted me to help Rafael and Cherry.
Mercury said, You can’t do that without any money—and guess what you just ran out of, bro.
The hotel manager took a knee on my other side. “Señor, your credit card was declined. Do you have another we could try?”
Jenny reached into her purse. She hadn’t kept a job during her RTS recovery. She didn’t have any cash of her own. Which meant, she was going to use Dad’s credit card. Since the guy called me a gold digger and a loser, I couldn’t let her charge the revolution to him.
I waved her off.
“I’ll call the bank and get it fixed,” I said to the manager, who scurried away.
“My good man,” Rafael said, his voice sounding suddenly frail, “would you be so kind as to help me rescue my niece from Chicago?”
In a strange harmonic voice, I heard myself say, “Absolutely.”
Except that I had intended to add the word “not” to the end, but halfway through the second syllable I realized the harmony had come from Jenny speaking in unison with me. I glanced her way. She smiled, convinced we were thinking on the same wavelength. My face felt like it was forming a “WTF are you thinking?” expression when I pulled it together and decided this was not the right time to yang at her yin.
Or whatever.
“I’ll come too,” Danny said. He drained a glass of orange juice I hoped he was paying for.
“I gotta make a call,” I said and pushed back.
I found a quiet place while the other four started planning my death. Not that they knew that’s what they were doing—but it was. One soldier, two amateur do-gooders from the Brotherhood of Brightness, a failed revolutionary long past his expiration date, and a former naval officer who’d spent her career plucking objects from the sea floor were going to take on an ancient order of warriors armed to the teeth? No intel, no support, no recon, no communications system? And I couldn’t even pay the hotel bill.
I dialed Yeschenko’s number.
He answered, “Jacob, how is Guatemala?”
“How did you—”
“Internet news, amazing, no? Two days ago, I search Jacob Stearne, I get nothing but you and French president, Geroy Parizha. Big smiles as if he cared about you. I know him. He does not care about you. But yesterday, when my old friend—who still owes me for emptying out six shell companies—forgets our appointment, I search and what do I get? Many things about ‘material witness’ and ‘mass murder of archeologists.’ Jacob, do you murder archeologist again?”
“Mikhail, I never murdered any … Wait, Ms. Sabel emptied those shell companies. You’re not suggesting I need to pay you back for—”
“Of course you pay me back. That was our call yesterday, yes? Twenty-eight million dollars US. You bring Yuri Belenov back and I lower by one million. That is deal. Yes?”
“Uh. No. I don’t have—”
“Of course you don’t have now. But you find. Maybe you find in Pia Sabel’s spare change jar. But you find. You value your life, my friend. You value your upcoming marriage—congratulations, by the way. I’m hurt I’ve not received invitation yet. But I’m sure you send soon. Yes? Good talk with you, Jacob. Good to clear air, as you Americans say.”
“Wait, Mikhail, in order to find Yuri, I need a small advance on … shit.” I was talking to
dead air.
I turned around. Mercury stood directly in front of me.
I said, What in the name of Hecate was that?
Now you with me, homes? Mercury asked. You got no time to be fooling around with Losers of Claritas. You got to find Yuri. He might have twenty-seven million. He stole a lot more than that from a hedge fund last week.
I felt someone touch my arm. I turned to find the Chinese lady. Up close and personal, she was strikingly handsome. Her wrinkles looked wise and her un-dyed gray hair gave her a dignified air. Her eyes sparkled as her smile swept across perfect teeth.
“I take care hotel bill,” she said. She bowed at the waist and took my hand in hers as she rose. “Gu Peng. It pleasure meet you, Jacob. We go now?”
“Hold up, uh … go where?”
Her face fell to disappointment the way my math teacher’s used to do when I shot my hand in the air but had the wrong answer. She said, “Chicago.”
CHAPTER 16
During my Sabel Security career, I’d been pampered so much, I’d forgotten what a middle seat in coach felt like. I was still stretching out kinks when we left Customs in Chicago.
Miguel Rodriguez, my best friend and coworker at Sabel Security, not to mention my best partner through five of my eight combat tours, waited for us wearing a chauffeur’s cap. At six-five, 220 pounds, he’s easy to pick out of a crowd. He held a cardboard sign that read, “Not You.” He quickly separated Jenny and me from Gu Peng’s herd and ushered us to a limousine outside before the Brothers noticed. He handed the cap to the driver and got in back with us.
“Pia sends her regards,” Miguel said after the dividing glass went up.
“She sent you to ask me back?”
“She was on her way here when I talked her into sending me alone.” He waited a beat. “You know we need you. You know that door is open. But. You have to do your thing.”
I waited my own beat. “Any chance you’ll join me?”
“No,” he said.
With a withering glance, he let me know leaving Sabel was a big mistake.