The Descent From Truth

by Greer, Gaylon

  “Twist the safety back on before you release it.” The major disconnected the switch from its battery and demonstrated the tricky maneuver. It required both hands, one keeping the trigger depressed while the other twisted the safety ring a full turn counterclockwise. “Of course, it won’t detonate if the C-4 is out of radio range.”

  “What’s the range?”

  “With no obstructions, maybe a mile.” As he talked, the major reconnected the wires. “But it’s line-of-sight transmission. If the case is behind a hill or a building, chances are it won’t blow.”

  Alex snapped the case shut. “You’ve been a big help. I don’t suppose we’ll meet again.”

  “Only if I’m detailed to escort your body home. Good luck, young man.”

  Chapter 30

  Alex maneuvered his rented minivan around the broad traffic circle surrounding Plaza de la Concordia and checked his watch: two a.m. He dialed the cell phone number he had been given, and Theo Faust’s distinctive voice stunned him. He had expected his old mentor to remain a backstage player in the exchange.

  Faust laughed. “Cat got your tongue, amigo?”

  Alex directed him through an empty parking lot and fell in behind his vehicle, a black Mercedes. He gave directions that would take them by the municipal garbage dump. On the otherwise deserted road, he discovered two nondescript sedans trailing him. “I told you to come alone,” he said over the cell phone.

  “You’re a follower, Alex, not a leader. You’re not a reliable follower, but that’s your role in life. Quit trying to be a commander. Just be a good soldier.”

  “Dismiss your goons, or the deal’s off.”

  Faust sighed audibly. “A lot of people are going to be disappointed if we don’t make the switch. But if it’s what you want, that’s how it has to be.” He chuckled. “Here’s one of the people you’ll disappoint.” His voice became faint, as if his mouth was farther from the telephone. “Say hello to Alex.”

  “Hello, Alex.”

  Alex’s heart skipped a beat. Pia sounded almost mechanical, but the voice was unmistakably hers.

  Faust’s voice again became distinct. “Our little flower has her heart set on relief. That’s spelled C-H-I-P-S.”

  They were nearing the turn-off to the garbage dump. “Take the next left,” Alex said. He trailed the Mercedes onto a spongy, garbage-strewn lane with the two other cars following close behind. Then he gunned the minivan and took the lead. “This is as good a place as any,” he said into the phone as they approached the spot planned for the switch.

  The four-vehicle caravan slowed, then stopped. Alex circled with his minivan on the packed-down garbage so that he faced the others, with his Army snipers at his back, hidden behind a bulldozer some two hundred yards away. The headlamps of all the vehicles still glowed.

  Two men, armed with Uzi submachine guns, climbed out of each of the trailing sedans. Faust, Pia, and a second man exited from the Mercedes’ back seat. As Pia slid out, Faust held her hand with an elaborate show of courtesy. The driver stayed inside.

  Still seated in his minivan, Alex dialed Faust’s cell phone again. In the glare of the vehicles’ headlights, he saw Faust reach to pull the ringing phone from inside the Mercedes.

  “You a little puzzled, boy?” Faust asked.

  “If you intend to make the switch, why all the hardware?”

  A chuckle. “For all I know, you have that van packed with armed thugs.”

  Alex turned off his headlamps so Faust could see the minivan more clearly in the illumination of the Mercedes’s lights. “Send over one of your goons. He can check my vehicle. Tell him to leave his weapon there.”

  Faust spoke to one of the gunmen. The man passed his Uzi to a comrade and advanced slowly. He saw that Alex was alone, mumbled something too low for Alex to understand, and hurried back to his comrades.

  Faust tossed his phone into the Mercedes’ front seat and raised his voice to speak across the space between the vehicles. “Bring me the chips. Let’s get away from this stink hole.”

  “Send your sidekicks home.”

  Faust spoke briefly with the gunmen, and three of them left in one of the sedans. The man who had ridden with Faust and one of the others, without his Uzi, stayed.

  “All of them,” Alex said.

  “So you can blow me away?” Faust shook his head. “I’m going to keep some firepower.”

  Alex turned his headlights back on. In their glare, he saw Pia more clearly. He shuddered at her haggard appearance. She stared in his direction, and he thought her lips formed his name.

  He forced himself to concentrate on Faust and the two gunmen. “I want everybody’s hands where I can see them.” Gripping the aluminum case, he began walking. He set the case on the ground midway between the facing vehicles. “Send Pia over.”

  “How do I know the chips are in there?”

  “Check it for yourself.” Alex opened the case and backed away.

  Faust stayed where he was, with Pia at his side. The other two men walked to the case.

  Alex backed still farther, until he was near his minivan, and twisted the circular valve that freed the safety on the incendiary’s remote trigger. The trigger button illuminated, and he felt newly empowered. He depressed the button as the men approached the case. The red light on top of the chips glowed dimly at first and then brightened. “Look, but don’t touch.”

  One of the men bent close and inspected the case’s contents in the glare of the headlights. Both men walked back to Faust.

  “As I said, Alex, you’re a good soldier.” Faust hooked a thumb toward Pia. “Now I suppose you want this.”

  “Let her walk over. Then you or one of your flunkies can pick up the case.”

  Holding Pia’s hand and swinging it like a teenager on a stroll with his girlfriend, Faust walked her to the open case. “She’s here. Come get her.”

  They wanted him away from the van, his escape vehicle and possibly his arsenal. “Look inside the case, Theo. I’m sure you know how a two-stage trigger works. The chips are resting on C-4.”

  Faust stared at the glowing red light for a moment, then back at Alex. “You’re being difficult. I don’t like difficult soldiers.”

  “And you won’t like having your guidance circuitry barbecued. Pick up the case, leave Pia there, and return to your vehicle. I’ll keep the trigger depressed until you’re out of signal range, providing you take your goons with you.”

  “We have a problem, Alex. I can’t trust you.”

  “I want Pia, and I want out of here alive. I don’t give a damn about the chips.”

  “I’d like to believe you wouldn’t detonate the C-4 the moment you felt safe. But I just can’t.”

  “Like it or not, that’s the deal.” Alex held the trigger high in the air. It made his button-pressing thumb conspicuous in the headlights’ glare.

  Faust closed a fist in Pia’s hair and jerked viciously, causing her to gasp and stumble sideways, her head at an awkward angle. “I’m going to leave this and drive away with the case, but my men are staying. If you fry the chips before I’m out of detonator range, they’ll waste both of you.”

  He bent slowly, closed the lid, and picked up the aluminum case. Without taking his eyes off Alex, he spoke to the men behind him. “Wait ten minutes. Then give him the girl but take his van. Call me on his cell phone.” He climbed into the Mercedes—the driver was still behind the wheel. The big car turned in a tight circle and accelerated back down the trail.

  Pia started walking toward Alex, but one of the gunmen grasped her arm. Looking at Alex, she mouthed something that he couldn’t make out.

  Distraction would be deadly; Alex concentrated on the two men facing him. Faust had left them there to capture or kill him. Alex assumed they had handguns, and he noticed for the first time that they wore body armor. The Mylar vests weren’t visible, but the bulk underneath their shirts could be nothing else.

  His Army sharpshooters would have the gunmen in the crosshairs
of their scopes. At closer range, the rifles’ high-velocity rounds might penetrate the vests. From this distance, it was dicey. The snipers were monitoring his words on their radios. He had to make them conclude that his life was in imminent danger and let them know about the Mylar. Their sights would be centered on their targets’ chests. They should be aiming higher.

  “You boys expecting trouble?” he said to the thugs, and waved the detonator’s trigger mechanism to impress them with the threat to their boss. “I see you’re both wearing armored vests.”

  One of them grunted and looked toward Faust’s departing car. It had turned onto the highway. In another minute, it would be out of range. That would be their cue to grab or shoot him, using Pia as a lure.

  “It’s clear you have orders to kill me as soon as your boss is out of detonator range.” Alex spoke slowly and distinctly, to make sure his Army marksmen understood. “If I were going to shoot you before that happened, I’d—”

  He was about to say, “I’d do it now,” a signal for his marksmen to take them out. But why kill needlessly? “I’ve planted enough snipers here to handle a dozen like you, and those vests aren’t going to do you any good. But I’m going to give you a chance to live. I want you to move very slowly and look behind you. Pay close attention to the headlights on your vehicle.”

  The gunmen stared at him. He had about decided they weren’t believers, but they finally turned enough to see the car.

  “Imagine those lights are your heads. Will my fine marksmen please demonstrate to these gentlemen what will happen if I give the word?”

  The request was barely out of Alex’s mouth when the car’s headlights erupted in a shower of glass. Rifle shots echoed across the garbage dump.

  “Night scopes,” he said to the startled thugs. “My snipers can still see you as if it were high noon. You’ve got to choose now between life and death. If you want to live, put your guns on the ground. Do it slowly, and step back.”

  He waited while the gunmen complied. “Smart move. Lean forward against your car, legs widespread. Let’s make sure those are your only weapons.”

  As Alex frisked the gunmen and bound their wrists with plastic ties, Pia spoke for the first time. “Is Frederick . . . where is Frederick?”

  “He’s safe. Hidden away.” With the gunmen securely tethered, Alex gave her his full attention. He pulled her close, kissed her, and nuzzled her cheek. “You’re also safe now. You’ll see him in a couple of days.” Alex kissed her again and bundled her into his rented minivan.

  He no longer needed the message-drop room at the Hotel Antigua Miraflores, and it was his for two more nights, so he made a deal with his Army snipers. Like his, their room had been paid for in advance. They would leave the captured gunmen there, bound and gagged and with the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on their door; he would give them the key to his room in the Antigua Miraflores, a distinct improvement over their downscale digs. They could live in relative luxury while sampling Lima’s nightlife. By the time the hotel staff found the gunmen and released them, Pia and Alex would be on their way home.

  Pia seemed to be in a trancelike state during their drive to the Hyatt Regency. In his room, Alex filled the bathtub with warm water and slipped off her skimpy shift, her only clothing. Steadying her with his hands on her arm and waist, he urged her into the tub. While she soaked, he washed her filthy garment and hung it on a coat hanger to dry. On his knees by the tub, he bathed her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he eased the washcloth over her back. “I shouldn’t have been so careless up in that cabin. Should have tied Jake more securely.”

  She kissed his hand, resting on her shoulder. “Will you take care of Frederick? When he’s older, tell him about me? Tell him I love him?”

  “You’ll do that yourself. I’m taking you to him.”

  “I can’t get out of Lima.”

  “Nonsense.” He helped her out of the tub, patted her dry with a fluffy towel, and urged her onto the bed. He pulled the sheet up to her neck and kissed the stitches on her forehead where his knuckles had split the flesh. “Nobody’s going to hurt you anymore. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Theo is too powerful.”

  “We got away before, didn’t we? Took Freddy?”

  She shivered so hard the bed shook. “He always wins.”

  “Not this time.” Alex slipped off his boots and stretched out by her side. “I’m powerful, too. And I want you more than he does.” Holding her close, Alex told her over and over that he loved her, that he prized her beyond all people, all things. He assured her that Frederick was waiting for them, that they would make a life together.

  Silent, limp, she let herself be cuddled. For a long time she seemed little more than a rag doll. Then her composure broke. Twice before he’d seen her tears overflow, but always silently, almost as if they were independent of her body. This time she shook with giant, wracking sobs.

  He held her and murmured reassurances. His own tears blinded him.

  She slept, finally, in fits and starts interspersed with moaning and occasional shrieks that jerked her awake. Each time, she drifted back to sleep only to snap awake with another scream.

  When she seemed settled into a deeper slumber, Alex called LAN Airlines. He held tickets to Mexico City with an open departure; he confirmed an early-afternoon reservation. Then he called his father. The elder Bryson had provided Alex with documents for Pia, realistic enough to get her into Mexico. From there, he had a boat standing by to smuggle them into the U.S.

  After the calls, Alex sat in a chair by the bed with the Colt .45 resting in his lap. He watched over Pia for the rest of the night.

  * * *

  “Is Frederick really safe?” Pia asked. Dawn had turned the darkened hotel room a dirty gray. Though she frequently shifted, tossed, and moaned, she had not spoken for several hours.

  “Absolutely.” Alex wondered how long she had been awake. “We’ll soon be with him. My dad has—”

  “Don’t,” she said, interrupting him. “Don’t tell me where he is.”

  “You don’t want to know where we’ll be living? We’re going home this afternoon.”

  “What if Theo catches us? He has a device he pushes inside me. It’s a . . . something electric. When he does that, I will say anything, do anything. I might even tell him where to find Frederick.”

  “Hush, sweetheart.” Alex laid a finger across her lips. “Your son is absolutely safe, and Theo won’t be hurting you ever again. Go back to sleep.”

  She relaxed into slumber, but her eyes popped open again minutes later. A look of horror twisted her face.

  She needed a sedative, and enough time had passed so that business and professional offices would be open. Alex called the hotel’s concierge and arranged for a medical doctor to visit the room. He sat in his chair, one hand resting on Pia’s shoulder, the other on his semiautomatic, and watched the door until a knock signaled the doctor’s arrival. Still nervous, he paused before opening the deadbolt. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Doctor Ferdinand Mandinez. The hotel called me. Do you require medical assistance?”

  Squinting, Alex peered through the peephole in the door. A short, balding, and chubby man with a medical case stood in the hallway. Relieved but cautious, Alex clicked off the Colt’s safety. He opened the deadbolt on the door but left the safety chain in place. With the door cracked open the two inches that the chain permitted, he said, “Pass me your ID.”

  Boots thudded against the door. The safety chain popped from its mooring.

  The door’s outer edge slammed against his head. It sent him reeling backward to sprawl on the carpet. A lashing boot hammered his side. Only half conscious, he saw the foot swing again. It connected with the side of his head. Black nothingness engulfed him.

  Chapter 31

  A pulsing, skull-splitting headache pulled Alex awake. Working hard to focus his eyes and his brain, he figured out that he was on his back on the floor of his hotel room, his wrists
fastened together in front of him. The cord that bound them was looped through his belt, holding them at waist level. Pia, wearing her still-damp smock, sat on the floor with her back against the wall, her knees drawn close to her breasts. Two men lounged on a couch, the room’s only comfortable seating. One of them, a smooth-faced youth, had Alex’s Colt semiautomatic stuffed into the waistband of his trousers.

  A third man sat in a straight-backed chair inches from Alex’s head. “Sleeping Beauty’s awake,” he said in Spanish. He held a pistol, a semiautomatic similar to Alex’s but with a sound suppressor attached to its nose. The suppressor poked Alex’s throbbing temple and forced him to turn his head. The movement caused him to black out again.