Treasure of the Mayan King (2012)

by Alehandro

  “Hold on a moment, sir,” the voice replied. After a moment of mariachi music, the clerk returned. “Yes, sir, we do have a Mr. Rollock here, would you like me to transfer you?”

  “Excellent!” De Leon exclaimed. “What an interview! The great Rollock returning to Cancun! Yes, please connect me.”

  He waited for the telltale click of the call being transferred, then hung up.

  After a few minutes searching on the Internet he reached for his phone and dialed another number.

  A recorded message came on:

  “Hi! Thank you for calling the Rollocks. We’re not here right now because we’re on vacation in Cancun! Sorry you couldn’t come with us. Please leave a message and we will get back to you once we return.”

  He hung up and quickly dialed Arturo’s cell phone.

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “Get over to my office as fast as you can!”

  He walked out of his office and headed toward the restroom, a large smile on his face.

  “Good morning, Laura! What a wonderful day! Tell Arturo to wait in my office.”

  She stared after him. For the first time in a week, De Leon chuckled.

  “Come on in you guys, I’m almost finished,” Anita said as she continued packing.

  Kelly, Marlo and Gloria came in.

  Kelly smiled at Troy. “Hey young man, how ya doing today?”

  “Real cool, Kelly, but I miss my dad.”

  “Well you just sit tight my boy ‘cause we’re gonna find him.’

  The phone rang, and Anita paused her packing to answer it. “Hello? Yes, that’s me. Right now? I’d rather - well, okay.”

  Irritated, she hung up the phone. “It’s the newspaper; they found out that my husband is in town. They want to interview the ‘famous archaeologist.’ I can’t believe this; I really don’t have time for this nonsense.”

  She ran a brush through her hair, double-checked her makeup, and then headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Downstairs in the lobby she spotted a young Mexican man wearing garish clothes and thick black sunglasses.

  “Ahhh, you must be Mrs. Rollock?” he called out in thickly accented English. “My name is Rolando. I am a reporter from The Mexican Daily. Let’s sit here, no?” he said. He pointed to a sofa and led the way. Anita rolled her eyes and followed him.

  “Where is the famous Mr. Rollock?” he asked as he sat down.

  Anita smiled politely. “Mr. Rollock left for a couple days. I’m sorry you missed him.”

  “Oh yes, yes; I see. I’m so sorry to hear that. We really wanted to interview such a famous person. I guess the paper will be none the worse for an interview with his wife.”

  At the end of what seemed a short interview Rolando suggested a photo next to the veranda.

  Just a few more minutes of this nonsense, Anita thought as the two left the lobby.

  Rolando took out his camera and pointed it at her. “This is a good place for a photo, no?”

  As he adjusted the lens, he said quietly: “Mrs. Rollock, my real name is Arturo and I work for Captain Gustavo De Leon.”

  “You got my message?” she asked in restrained excitement.

  “Yes, but we needed to verify it and get the transmitter frequency. You did not provide it in your e-mail.”

  Anita wanted to slap herself. “I can’t believe it. How stupid can I be?” She took Arturo’s writing pad and scribbled the frequency. “There. Now go get him!”

  Arturo snapped a picture of her and walked back to the lobby, calling over his shoulder, “Well, Mrs. Rollock, thank you for the photo and the autograph! So sorry I missed your husband. Maybe next time I can see him, goodbye.”

  Bursting into the hotel room, she announced, “The Lion is going after his Spanish jailbird!”

  Five minutes later they were on their way.

  As the plane banked to the left, Belize City appeared through the plane window. Anita was far too preoccupied to enjoy the tropical scenery below. It did not matter to her that the barrier reef below was the second largest in the world. She had no interest in sightseeing or exploring the emerald islands that hugged the coast. All she cared about was Chauncy.

  She did have two reasons to be interested in Belize though. The first was that Kelly claimed there was a man there who owned a helicopter they could use. The second was that from Belize it would be easy to fly below the radar into Yucatan.

  Driving north toward the township of Orange Walk, Kelly directed Anita to turn down a dirt road. A bumpy half-hour later they arrived at a large clearing.

  A junked helicopter and small airplane were surrounded by mechanical bits and pieces. In the middle of the lot was a large old trailer; a tethered dog near the trailer barked incessantly.

  A tall, wiry black man watched suspiciously from the door. Wiping his greasy hands with a greasy rag, he shouted, “Watcha want?”

  Kelly stepped forward. “Hey man, don’t ya recognize me? It’s me, Kelly Sorenson.”

  “Kelly? Kelly? The dude that use to fly with me in ‘Nam?’

  “Yeah man, it’s me. We found your place and name by searching the Internet.”

  “Well I’ll be a monkey’s hairy tail! Is that you, you old man?”

  “Stop it, Charlie, you ain’t gotten any younger either.”

  Anita cleared her throat loudly.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Kelly stammered. “I forgot to introduce these two. Charlie; this is Marlo Gund and Anita Rollock.”

  “Pleased to meet ya.” Charlie led them under a large awning made from a camouflage parachute. “What brings ya to my palace?”

  “Well, we need two things, Charlie.” Anita was in a hurry. “We need to rent a chopper and we need you to come with us.”

  “Hmmm.” Charlie sat down on a rickety chair. He stared, rubbing his chin. “Watch you need it for?”

  Kelly answered. “We need to go into Mexico.”

  “Mexico? What for? Ain’t they got choppers for tourists?”

  “Not with guns on ‘em, Charlie. It’s a rescue mission. Anita’s husband is in trouble.’ Kelly said.

  “What kinda trouble - trouble with the law?” Charlie asked with a suspicious glance as he raised his eyebrows.

  “No, we need to rescue him from Jose Padilla Madrid and we need you as the side gunner.”

  Charlie sprang from his chair in a burst of energy that surprised everyone. “You’re all plumb crazy! What’s the matter with you? You all want me to go gunning down Jose Padilla with a Mini-gun on a chopper in Mexico? Ha, ha, ha, you’re all crazy, man!”

  He started to walk toward his trailer, but Anita stood up and followed him. “Now wait just a minute, Charlie, you can’t just walk away from someone that needs your help.”

  Charlie spun around and glared at her. “I can and I will, lady. I ain’t gonna risk my life in that jungle shootin’ at no drug lords!”

  Anita took her checkbook out of her purse. “What’s your last name, Charlie?”

  “Watson, Charlie Watson. Why?”

  She wrote on the check, ripped it from the book and gave it to Charlie. After he’d counted the zeros after the one, he looked Anita in the eye. She said, “And there’s another check for the same amount with your name on it waiting for you when we get back from Mexico. I trust the rescue will be quick and easy.”

  Charlie looked at the check, then back at Anita. “You don’t realize what you’re taking about. You ever done this before?”

  “Of course not.” Anita responded. “But don’t get all self righteous on me. I’m sure you’ve had offers. After all you live here on the border.”

  “So? What makes ya think I can be bought?”

  Anita gave him a wry smile. “I took acting lessons in school. It’s one of those ‘it takes one to know one’ things. In other words, false indignation doesn’t befit you. You were holding out for more zeros on the check. Am I right?”

  Charlie smiled.

  Anita took another checkout and s
hoved it into his greedy hands. “Here!”

  “Follow me, ma’am.”

  They rounded the corner of the trailer house, where several helicopters in various states of disrepair came into view. One was under a large black parachute. It was to this one that Charlie led them.

  “This one here is for special operations,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. As he spoke, he pulled back the parachute to reveal an old U.S. military helicopter.

  Kelly stared in surprise. “Wow man…that looks like the one I flew in ‘Nam!’

  “Yep, it’s an old Huey; bought it at an auction a long time ago. Brings back memories, eh?”

  Kelly walked around the aircraft, the surprise fading from his face. “It still has the guns; do they work?”

  “I hope so, hadn’t a reason to use them, ya know. Not too many tourists come asking for helicopter rides that have working guns on ‘em.’ Charlie said, grinning from ear to ear. ‘Mighty proud of this one.’

  Marlo, noticing the change in Kelly’s expression, walked over to the veteran and put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  He could feel Kelly shaking. “It’s rough…there’s too many memories you know? This chopper is an exact model of the one I flew in ‘Nam…and here we are…in the jungle.’

  Marlo squeezed Kelly’s shoulder, but there was nothing to say.

  Anita turned to Charlie. “My husband has a radio transmitter on him. Can you set us up with a locator?”

  Charlie scratched his head as he surveyed the junkyard. “Yeah, yeah, the newer planes have them. I think one of those Cessnas has one.”

  “How soon can you have it working?”

  “Coupla hours.”

  “Good.” Anita looked at her watch. “Call us when you are done.”

  It was painfully early in the morning when Chauncy heard the rattling of keys in the door. Santo and his bodyguard stepped into the room to find Chauncy already dressed in khaki shorts, a short sleeve shirt, and hiking boots - one of which now hid the transmitter.

  “Well, I see that you are ready to leave,” Santo remarked.

  “Any time we leave will never be too soon.”

  Santo ordered the guard to handcuff and blindfold Chauncy. Leg irons were placed around his ankles once again. In a repeat of yesterday’s activities, minus the oppressive heat, they loaded Chauncy into a vehicle. For about an hour he rode in darkness. When the blindfold was removed, he realized it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t see anything but the dirt road illuminated by the headlights. It was the same black Humvee and the same seating arrangement.

  Madrid”s expression seemed cheerful, but his voice was nervous. ‘I won’t be happy until we leave Mexico,’ he stated. ‘But first we have to take care of some important business.’

  They traveled for a while longer down the bumpy dirt road. Madrid turned to talk to Chauncy again. “We are close to the pyramids of Chichen Itza. We should be there in ten minutes.”

  Soon their headlights shone on an old building, an aircraft hangar. They all got out of the vehicle and entered the hangar through a small side door. One of the guards walked over to some equipment in the corner. The building lit up as a generator came to life, but there wasn’t much to illuminate. The large sliding doors that permitted planes to enter or depart were locked shut.

  Madrid looked at his watch and spoke to Santo. “Five more minutes!”

  They tied Chauncy to a beam at the rear of the hangar with a rope, his hands lifted above his head. He heard the distant thumping of an approaching helicopter and began to worry. Who was coming? Why had they not let him go free? Why were they letting him see all of this?

  The sound of the helicopter was deafening as it landed in front of the building. He could see the glow of the lights from the aircraft through the fiberglass panels in the doors. Madrid and Santo stood next to Chauncy as the guards left to greet the mysterious visitor.

  Santo opened up a folding table and put it next to Chauncy. Chauncy heard voices outside. As two guards entered, a third man followed with a large suitcase in his hand.

  In the dim lights Chauncy couldn’t see the man’s face. As he got closer he looked up and Chauncy could clearly see his face. He was dumbfounded for a moment, because he knew he had seen the face somewhere but couldn’t place it.

  His memory clicked: the CNN interview that Chauncy saw in the hotel. “What are you doing here?” Chauncy asked.

  Chapter Ten

  George Hawkins smiled. “I’m honored that you would recognize a humble American Embassy representative.” He walked closer. “Come now, you shouldn’t be so surprised. I love the good life, just like anyone else.” He opened a large suitcase and set it on the table as he addressed the other men. “Fill ‘er up, all one million dollars of it, my friends.’

  Three men with automatic weapons walked through the small hangar door. Chauncy knew that Hawkins was well aware the power of greed and he wasn’t going to give Madrid a chance to try anything.

  Chauncy was suddenly overwhelmed, he felt like an animal waiting for the slaughter. “You lied to me,” he glared at Madrid. “You wouldn’t be letting me see all this if you planned to release me.”

  Madrid kept his eyes on the money as Santo counted it and placed it in Hawkins’ suitcase. “As the pirates of old used to say, ‘Dead men tell no tales,’ Mr. Rollock. It’s business, not love.” He laughed and looked around to see if anyone had heard him. “Isn’t that original?”

  Chauncy shifted his glare to Hawkins. “And you, betraying your country. These drug dealers are going to walk out of here to continue their drug-dealing.”

  “Lecture somewhere else, Mr. Rollock. And shut up while we’re counting.”

  As the final stack of dollar bills went into the suitcase, Hawkins closed and locked the bulging piece of luggage. “Good, good! You have all done a wonderful job, including you, Mr. Rollock. Thank you for your assistance in locating the money. Tell me something, Mr. Rollock, do you recall how the Mayans sacrificed their victims to their gods, here in Chichen Itza?”

  Chauncy made a face. “So you’re going to dump me into a cenote like Dr. Sova?”

  “You’ll be in good company,” he answered with a sneer. “The doctor is waiting for you.”

  One of Hawkins’ men shouted from the hangar door. “Senor Hawkins, a helicopter is approaching!”

  There was silence as everybody listened. Barely audible but growing louder was the sound of a helicopter.

  Hawkins whirled to face Madrid. “What is this?” he demanded. “I swear to God I’ll shoot you down right now if - “

  “I don’t know what this is about!” Madrid yelled as he ordered his guards to go outside.

  As Madrid and his guards ran, so did Hawkins. He struggled to keep up carrying the heavy suitcase.

  With everybody’s attention elsewhere, Chauncy struggled to escape. He tugged as hard as he could, but all he did was lift himself off the ground, his arms straining from the exertion.

  Santo spotted him and swung viciously. As he raised his hand to strike again the sound of the helicopter rotors was joined by the noise of gunfire. Glass shattered everywhere in the hangar. Men shouted as the gunfire continued unabated.

  Realizing that he had forgotten his briefcase during the melee, Madrid quickly turned and ran back into the hangar. He tried his best to ignore Santo and Chauncy as he approached them to pick up his belongings.

  “He’s trying to escape!” Santo complained to Madrid.

  “Finish him off!” Madrid hissed. “We have bigger problems to deal with.”

  Seated in the helicopter, De Leon noticed stacked fuel barrels on the side of the hangar. He instinctively squeezed the trigger in his control stick and a barrage of bullets hit the target. The fuel barrels exploded in a rolling fireball. Chauncy was flung bodily on top of Madrid and Santo.

  Then there was only blackness.

  Captain Gustavo De Leon and his soldiers leapt from the helicopter. Arturo and two soldiers
ran to the other helicopter where a certain familiar American Embassy representative was attempting to escape. Suddenly, Hawkins was face-to-face with three gun barrels pointing at his head.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hawkins.” De Leon boomed. “Have you been sightseeing in our beautiful country?”

  “Ah, Captain De Leon, these men were attempting to kidnap me!” Hawkins said.

  Arturo pulled Hawkins’ suitcase off the helicopter and unceremoniously opened it for all to see the cash.

  “Really?” De Leon said, a humorless smile on his face. “Since when do the abductors pay a ransom to the abducted?”

  Hawkins kept his head high. “There’s one million dollars in that suitcase. Half of it is yours if you just walk away. If you turn it over to your superiors, you won’t see a penny of it.”

  The Captain slowly shook his head. “You’re pathetic. That’s why you were trying so hard to get me out of the way. You knew I couldn’t be bribed, and yet here you still try. I’ll be paid in full knowing you’re rotting in a Mexican prison for the rest of your life.”

  The sounds and smells of the fire slowly brought Chauncy to consciousness. Coughing and sputtering, he shook his head and looked around. Debris was scattered everywhere; some of it on top of him. He realized with a start that he was lying on top of someone’s legs. Moving a bit of the debris he recognized Santo, who was lying very still. Was he dead? Well, good riddance.

  Madrid lay motionless on his back nearby. Had the blast killed them both but left Chauncy alive? If he could just shuffle over to Madrid he could find the keys and get himself out of these infernal leg chains. Instead he found himself looking down the barrel of Madrid”s pistol.

  “Don’t shoot! You don’t know this, but I am responsible for this rescue!”

  Madrid looked shocked. “What? You, you did this?”

  “Yes, I communicated with my wife.”

  Madrid was dumbfounded. “How did you do that?”

  “Do you remember the video you took of me? I simply wrote a message in the Mayan code.”

  Madrid shook his head in disgust. He muttered obscenities as he raised his gun to kill Chauncy.

  “Wait! I can get us out of here, I swear.”