The Joshua Files - a complete box set: Books 1-5 of the young adult sci-fi adventure series plus techno-thriller prequel

by M. G. Harris

  “Could you come get me? Please? You’re the only one I can trust. Please.”

  Marie-Carmen paused. There was a mirthless chuckle. “I’d say that’s one hell of a debt to repay.”

  ***

  There was thick cloud cover, and almost no ambient light. Jackson checked the battery on his cell phone. The call to Marie-Carmen had all but depleted the power. If he used it as a torch now, that would probably finish it off. Anyway, a sudden burst of light in the woods could expose him to the assassin.

  “There’s a road next to the hill of the Tepozteco pyramid,” Marie-Carmen had said. “Keep going downhill and I’ll find you. My car is a silver VW Beetle, the old kind, like the taxis. Keep hidden until you see my car; I’ll be driving by real slow. Put something at the side of the road, something I’ll notice; a shoe. When I see it, I’ll stop; then, so long as there’s no other car around, you get in. If there’s another car, Jackson, I won’t stop; you got that? Wait. Maybe I’ll come back for you later.”

  She was right, thought Jackson. Whoever had tried to kill him would not be likely to give up so easily. They might have abandoned the search for him in the forest, but if Marie-Carmen could work out where he was, then so could they. If they discovered Marie-Carmen, nowhere would be safe.

  He made his way gingerly through the forest, concentrating hard. He focused on the slope of the ground. Always downhill; it made for a few slips and grazes, but basically, the strategy seemed to be working. After twenty minutes he could hear cars as they sped by on the road below. The forest was too dense to see the road yet, but he knew it was close. Just a few minutes later, he could see the lights.

  The traffic was relatively sparse on this minor thoroughfare; only one car passed every five minutes or so. Jackson descended to the road’s edge, crouching low. He pulled off his right shoe and with calculated effort, tossed it into the road. Then he sat down. The pain from his thigh made him wince, but he bit his lip, prepared to wait.

  “What kind of loser gets himself followed all the way from the airport?” Jackson muttered. He could still scarcely believe that he’d allowed it to happen. But now he was thinking like a marked man. This morning, he had been just another innocent.

  He began more carefully to observe the cars, mentally tallying the make and models.

  After half an hour, there was no doubt in his mind which car represented the threat. A black Ford Explorer had driven by three times before he thought to look at the registration. The fourth time, there was no question.

  Finally, Jackson saw the round headlamps of a VW Beetle approach, moving slowly. He glanced further down the road. According to his observations, the Ford Explorer was due any minute. He waited.

  The VW Beetle slowed to a halt near his shoe. Still Jackson waited. He dare not risk it until the Explorer had completed its reconnaissance. The door of the Beetle swung open and he heard a voice hiss into the hum of the forest: “Jackson!” He did not move. Then there were two sounds; the click of heels on the tarmac and the rumble of an approaching car. Jackson retreated into the shadows of the forest. Marie-Carmen moved her head; she’d heard him.

  The black Ford Explorer slowed to a stop in front of Marie-Carmen’s VW. A man stepped out, walked over to Marie-Carmen. They were close enough that Jackson could hear every word. His Spanish was good enough to understand most of their conversation

  “Señorita. Can I be of assistance?”

  “I thought I saw an animal in the road. But look, do you see? It’s just a shoe.”

  “Oh yes, you’re right.” The man’s tone was courteous, yet unmoved.

  “I would save an animal.”

  “No harm done.”

  “No, thank goodness. I would hate to have hurt a living creature.”

  “Sometimes it is unavoidable.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  “You shouldn’t stay outside, alone, señorita, in a place like this.”

  “You’re right. Thanks for stopping to help, you’re a gentleman.”

  The man dipped a small bow, watching as Marie-Carmen stepped back into her car and under the watchful eye of the driver of the Explorer, drove away.

  After she had left, the driver peered suspiciously into the scrub at the edge of the road. He took out a torch and shone the beam around. Jackson froze in his hiding place, behind a tree. If they bothered to venture into the woods to search, he knew he would be forced again to run. He breathed a sigh of relief when a minute later, he heard the door of the car slam shut and the squeal of the tires against the road.

  Now alone, Jackson swore profusely. That was it; his one chance. Maybe if he’d been quicker or if Marie-Carmen had happened along just a little earlier. Now it was over.

  How would he possibly get away? The Ford Explorer, patrolling the stretch of road as regularly as it was, would not be fooled a second time by Marie-Carmen’s car.

  He dared not move, however, nor stray from the plan. Jackson was amazed that they had actually failed to regard the shoe as a potential signal.

  Or maybe they had, and were just waiting for him to show himself. Eventually, he knew it, he would have to emerge.

  Marie-Carmen

  In the next half hour four more cars passed and the Explorer made six more passes. Jackson began to feel helpless. A brown Nissan Tsuru screeched to a stop at the side of the road. The passenger door opened and Jackson bolted for the car. Just before he reached the car, he moved to pick up the shoe. The Tsuru jolted forward, almost knocking him down. He heard Marie-Carmen’s voice: “Are you insane? Leave it! Now climb in the back and lie down. Do it now!”

  As he jumped inside, Marie-Carmen’s foot leaned hard on the accelerator. They were clear of the scene with still no sign of the Explorer.

  “Would you like to leave them a sign: ‘Been rescued, see you in Mexico City’?”

  “I’m sorry, sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Jackson groaned. So much for his casual, Italian loafer look.

  “I don’t think you can afford to slow down on the thinking, do you? I think maybe you need to keep your wits about you.”

  He changed the subject. “Where did you get the car? D’you steal it.?”

  Marie-Carmen swore roundly. “No, pendejo, I swapped it for the Beetle. You think I’m safe in that thing now?”

  He hesitated. “That was pretty good thinking. Can the new owners trace this car to you?”

  “A beautifully restored, old-style VW Beetle, with all the papers in order, for this piece of junk? Ha – no. They thought it was Christmas. They didn’t ask any questions.”

  “That was seriously good thinking,” he repeated. “Really, I’m impressed.”

  “That’s nice for you. As for me, I’m amazed you’ve survived this long. Also you owe me a new car.”

  Jackson lay back across the rear seats, exhausted.

  “You realize I can’t afford to pay you back.”

  “God, I am so not surprised.”

  Marie-Carmen drove in silence as they passed through Tepoztlan, took the toll road back to Mexico City. Jackson leaned against the door, a hand nursing the piercing pain in his thigh muscle. The relief he’d felt at being rescued had almost gone. His anxiety levels were escalating again. How was this irritable woman going to be able to help him? He was in trouble with some pretty terrifying people. Jackson just wanted to get fixed up and get back to the USA. PJ’s mysterious test-tube might hold the answer to why he was a target, but right now he was too exhausted to care.

  Marie-Carmen glanced over. “You’re in bad shape?”

  “I’ll survive. Thanks to you.” Another thought struck him. “Jesus. My rental car; I can’t even pick that up. My credit card account’s going to explode.”

  “Jackson, stay calm. Things like that are fixable.”

  He said nothing, surprised at how resentful he felt at being told to stay calm.

  “Look, I can see you’ve been through something here.” Marie-Carmen appeared to pick her words carefully. “Forget what I said
before. I was scared, OK? Those guys looked pretty violent to me. I’ve never dealt with anything like this.”

  “Me either. I’m sorry that you got involved. Wish I knew what was going on.”

  “Well Jackson, you know something, that’s for sure. We’ll go to my home, dress that wound. Tomorrow, you and me are going to figure out what the hell this is all about.”

  He exhaled, slowly. He just wanted to rest and now he’d hooked up with an amateur detective.

  “I’m guessing this is something to do with my cousin’s research?”

  “That does seem the logical answer.”

  “Hey, you know more than that. I lost my car because of you, Bennett! You owe me some answers.”

  “Maybe it’s safer if you stay out of it.”

  She snorted. “Maybe, no. Definitely!”

  “Why don’t you just take me back to your place and let me worry about it?”

  “I don’t think so. The way things are going you’re going to wind up dead.”

  Jackson smiled slightly to himself. There was urgency and passion in her voice. He had to admit, it was nice to feel she was worried about him.

  “You’re going to wind up dead and my cousin will never be found.”

  “PJ is missing . . . ?”

  “Yes, missing.” Marie-Carmen’s tone had turned sardonic, angry. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

  He dropped his head.

  With an obvious effort to be calm she said, “When were you going to tell me?”

  “I was going to tell you what happened to him. Didn’t know if he’d checked in yet.”

  “No, he’s missing, his wife is going crazy with worry. She’s in hospital, my niece Gabi is home alone. Pedro Juan’s wife is too scared to tell the girl what’s going on. So, Jackson Bennett, if you have some answers then you’d better start talking.”

  Jackson was silent. Part of him welcomed the chance to talk things through with someone, especially someone as obviously intelligent as Marie-Carmen. It didn’t hurt that she sounded sexier by the minute or that could see the outline of her figure in the shadows – it looked pretty terrific. Jackson was already looking forward to the inevitable tension of spending a night alone in a stranger woman’s apartment, with all the possibilities it might bring. On the other hand, he was under no illusion. PJ had dragged him into a dangerous situation. He’d tangled with some well-connected people who weren’t afraid to use extreme violence. Jackson had known Marie-Carmen for minutes but his basic urge to protect a desirable female was already kicking in.

  Hesitantly, he began. “Marie-Carmen, did you ever call PJ at the lab?”

  “Not usually. Why?”

  “You ever visit him in Temixco? Have anything to do with his work?”

  “No, why?”

  “This is really important. Is there any way that you could be connected with his work in any way whatsoever?”

  “I can’t imagine how.”

  Jackson shook his head. “Someone was onto Pedro Juan. They knew about his work with the phoenix gene. They knew he was meeting someone from the San Francisco lab to receive samples. Maybe they even knew I’d be the one bringing them over. I just need to be sure that they can’t know of a connection to you.”

  “Your work with Pedro Juan; that’s why someone is trying to kill you?”

  “I don’t understand yet. Our work was potentially exciting to the biotech industry, but that’s as far as it goes. Least, that’s what I figured. But I think PJ was onto something new.”

  “Like what?”

  “I need to get to a lab to figure that out. Until then, we need to avoid contact with anyone else at PJ’s lab, the police, the hospitals. Anyone connected to the government. And especially those guys in the Ford Explorer.”

  “You want to disappear for a while?”

  He managed a wan smile. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “Then we’re going to the right place. Mexico City; twenty millions of us there; we should be able to get lost.”

  She turned on the radio. It was tuned to a classical music station. A pensive piano sonata was playing. “You like Beethoven?”

  “That’s Beethoven?”

  “Sonata number twenty-five,” she said, softly. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Do I like Beethoven?” He hesitated. Another woman, he might have tried to bluff. “Honestly, I prefer rap. You like Eminem? Or reggaeton, you got some of that?”

  “Reggaeton?” She turned to him with a quizzical smile. “Sure, why not?” She pressed another preset button. The heavy bass drop of Latin rap began to pound through the car. Quietly, Marie-Carmen chuckled. “Interesting. . .”

  Jackson glanced over at Marie-Carmen. She was dressed as though she had just left work, in heels, slacks and white blouse. As discreetly as he could, Jackson stared at her legs working under taut fabric. Her upper arms and thighs were those of a dancer or, perhaps, a yoga enthusiast. Curvaceous but well-toned.

  Marie-Carmen turned to him, her lips tightly pursed, eyebrows raised with a hint of questioning in her expression.

  He looked at her directly for the first time, almost having to catch his breath when he caught the look of knowing amusement in her eyes. His apparent transparency before her embarrassed him. He forced himself to stare back into the road ahead.

  If Marie-Carmen had been thinking of saying anything then, she evidently decided to hold her peace. “That’s a nice jacket,” she ventured diplomatically, after a few moments.

  “Thank you. Probably the only decent piece of clothing that I own.”

  “Don’t like clothes?”

  “Don’t like to shop.”

  “You’re all about the work, hey, Jackson?”

  Wincing slightly at the steady pulse of pain in his thigh, Jackson shook his head. “You’re really not seeing me at my best.”

  “It’s not been a very good day for me either,” she conceded.

  “Oh, I’d say you’re coming out of this a hell of a lot better than me. My hero,” he said, with a sidelong glance.

  “I’d do anything for my cousin,” she murmured. “I just hope you’re worth it.”

  In a darkened car, driving through the mountains with the hazy, neon lights of Mexico City just visible in the valley below, a comfortable silence enveloped them.

  Jumping Genes

  Ninety minutes later, they reached Marie-Carmen’s home in Tlalpan, a southern suburb of Mexico City. Marie-Carmen’s apartment building was in a gated complex and as they passed through, Jackson heard Marie-Carmen ask the security guard if there had been any visitors for her. “No, no, Doctor. No visitors, no calls. But where’s your Beetle?”

  “You’re going to laugh: I lost it in a bet. But if you see it, don’t let it pass, deal? I didn’t part on good terms with the new owners.”

  The security gate opened and Marie-Carmen drove through.

  Jackson regarded her with a mixture of respect and misgiving. “Doctor Marie-Carmen?”

  “Oh that’s right, you don’t have yours yet.”

  He changed the subject. “‘Lost it in a bet’. You know something? You’re a pretty convincing liar.”

  Marie-Carmen flashed a smile. “Yes I am. Don’t ever play me at poker.”

  “Can you lie like that to anyone, about anything?”

  Marie-Carmen parked the car wordlessly. “You’re asking me if I’m someone who can be trusted.”

  Jackson was aware of his own heartbeat. “Yes.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “You saved my life.”

  “Maybe I’m saving it for later.”

  “Marie-Carmen. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what happened to your cousin. But PJ is the reason why someone tried to kill me. I don’t know why he gave me your number. I’m sorry if I seem a little paranoid.”

  “I have to know if you trust me.”

  Jackson looked into her eyes, transfixed. They were a light, almost honey-brown. Fear gripped his heart
. In that moment he realized that trust didn’t come into it; he wanted to do whatever this woman asked of him. He felt powerless against his own desire, even though he sensed where it might lead.

  “I trust you. Do you trust me?”

  Dismissively, Marie-Carmen shook her head. “Jackson, we just met. But I trust Pedro Juan; for now, that’s enough.”

  ***

  In the dim light of the apartment, the leaves of trees in the gardens cast jagged shadows across the large windows. Marie-Carmen led Jackson into the kitchen, switched on the light and pulled out a chair by a round wooden table.

  “Let’s see that leg.”

  Jackson slowly removed his jacket. The sharp pain in his leg had reduced to a throbbing ache. Still, he was apprehensive about actually confronting the damage.

  Marie-Carmen touched his arm. “Try to relax. I can go out and buy dressings from the pharmacy.”

  Jackson said nothing as he unbuttoned his jeans, dropping them below the knee before sitting on the chair.

  Marie-Carmen knelt down, carefully unwrapped the blood-soaked cotton sleeve which had served as a bandage. She was quiet for a few seconds as she examined his wound.

  “This really needs medical attention. It’s too deep to heal quickly without stitching.”

  “No hospitals,” insisted Jackson. “You don’t have some buddy who’s a doctor?”

  “Not the kind that I can disturb at this hour. And you shouldn’t wait; there could be infection. You were in the woods; God knows what you could have picked up in this wound.”

  “Can you do it?”

  She raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “I can buy all the stuff, sure. But stitching?”

  “How hard could it be?”

  “Presumably there’s some kind of knack to it. Or else, what’s the point of medical school?”

  “You wouldn’t be grossed out?”

  Laconically, she replied “You should see the condition of some of the human remains I come across.”

  ***

  Marie-Carmen left Jackson to enjoy slices of manchego cheese, pickled chilies and a bottle of tequila, closing the apartment door quietly as she left to fetch supplies.