Conspiracy of Bones

by Tracy Krauss

  "Rocco?" Mark asked, sitting up fully.

  "Of course it’s me. Who else?" Rocco laughed.

  Relief and fear mingled inside Mark’s gut. Rocco wouldn’t be calling if he was actually guilty, would he? But then again… "Hey, buddy," Mark said with forced cheerfulness. "Where have you been these last few days? I thought you’d want to be here to celebrate."

  "Sorry about that, Amigo. I had some other business to take care of."

  "We missed you. Both me and Anthony." Mark paused to see if the mention of the other man’s name had any effect. Nothing. "Anthony met with a bit of an accident, I’m afraid."

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah. Kind of similar to my accident, if you get my drift."

  Rocco chuckled; an unexpected response. "About time that Mama’s boy got toughened up a bit."

  "Excuse me?" Mark questioned in disbelief.

  "He’ll mend," Rocco continued. "A couple cracked ribs never killed anybody."

  There was silence for a moment as Mark digested what Rocco just said. “How did you know about his ribs?"

  "I’ve got my ways, remember?"

  “So you said."

  "So, I’ve been keeping up on the debate. I’d say we’re coming out on top about 80% of the time."

  "Yeah, right," Mark responded.

  "Hey, you don’t sound too pleased," Rocco noted. "What’s the matter?"

  "I’m just a bit concerned about who our supporters really are," Mark said. "If there really is an international conspiracy, why aren’t they more vocal? And who exactly is on the other side? How do I know I can trust them any more than the opposition?"

  "I’d say it’s pretty obvious that the conspiracy is alive and well. Look what they did to you and Anthony," Rocco reasoned.

  "Did they?" Mark asked point blank. "Was it really ‘the conspiracy’, as you call them, or was it some other well meaning vigilante trying to convince us of a conspiracy?"

  There was hesitation on the other end for a moment before Rocco laughed again. "Whoa, now! I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but don’t bite the hand that feeds you."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Look, things are working out perfectly for our cause. Who cares how it came to be? Just bask in it, Amigo. Grasp it and run with it."

  "Did you or did you not attack Anthony?" Silence. "I see."

  "It was for his own good. He was playing a double game, you know. It just helped to put the fear of God in him, so to speak. I don’t think he’ll be wavering over to the opposition again anytime soon."

  "Did it ever occur to you that that was all part of our plan?" Mark asked.

  "Either way, no harm done," Rocco said. "It still makes the bad guys look worse and the good guys look better."

  "In some people’s minds," Mark said. "Okay. So you admitted that much. What about me? And don’t try to deny it. I know it was you." There was more silence. "Rocco? Answer me, damn it!"

  "Look man, you don’t even know half of what I’ve done for you," Rocco said, his voice sounding hard; foreign. "You should be thanking me for spurring your ass into action. For saving you from distractions -"

  "You mean Amy?" Mark cut in, his throat constricted. "It was you that told her I was still seeing Laura?"

  "Hey, I couldn’t look that kind of a gift in the mouth. When I tipped Sawchuk off about your presentation, I had no idea I could use her for more than one purpose."

  A chill ran down Mark’s spine. "You tipped her off. But why?"

  "Lots of reasons. It would keep her close by, where I could keep an eye on her."

  "Rocco, tell me once and for all. Is there really an international conspiracy - the kind you’ve been warning me about? Or is this just some giant fabrication that you’ve come up with to further your own cause?"

  "Oh, it’s real enough," Rocco responded. "I’m just helping bring it to light a little quicker, that’s all."

  Mark closed his eyes. The man really had gone loco. "Look, Rocco. Thanks for all your help, but I think you should just back off for awhile now, okay? We don’t want anyone else to get suspicious."

  "I was planning on it anyway. That last job got a little messy. I’m going to disappear for awhile, myself. I think you can handle the rest from here."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Don’t worry about it," Rocco laughed. "I took care of everything. You won’t be hearing any slander from New Mexico. Gotta go, now. Take care, Amigo!"

  "Rocco? Rocco!" Mark called into the receiver. Nothing. The man had already hung up. Oh no. What had his former friend done now?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Laura Sawchuk and John Bergman were added to the missing persons list and a warrant was issued for Rocco Cortez’s arrest. Three days later, Laura’s body was found in a shallow grave near the college grounds in Texas. Another four days, and John’s body was found floating down the river.

  My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

  It pounded through Mark’s brain like a mantra after each grisly discovery. Several days of a fog filled existence moved Mark forward through time, each day making the necessary motions to eat, sleep, and talk with the police. Tim and Mabel Hazzard became the solid foundation upon which he and Anthony relied. In all, it was like a dream, surreal in its clarity, but distorted beyond reason.

  "I’m really sorry it’s turned out this way," Tim was saying. They were standing at the doorway of the Hazzard home, Mark and Anthony both ready to take their leave.

  Mark shook his head. “Yes. You and me both.”

  "And you?" Tim turned to Anthony. "You’re sure you’re fit to travel? You’re welcome to stay on longer if you’d like."

  "No, it’s about time the prodigal son made his way back home again.” Anthony grinned. "Besides, I miss my Mom’s cooking, no offence to your wife."

  "None taken.” Mabel smiled. "It’s been a pleasure to have you both, even under these trying circumstances."

  "Just remember, God is still in control," Tim declared.

  "I’m trying to remind myself of that daily," Mark said.

  "Hopefully we’ll both make it home in one piece," Anthony noted. "I mean, Rocco is still at large."

  "I’m sure the police will ferret him out soon. He can’t hide forever," Mabel reasoned.

  "His type don’t stay underground long," Tim agreed. "Always looking for publicity. It’s unfortunate that we’ve gotten some bad reviews out of it, though. The connection between you and Cortez has certainly shed some questionable light on your discovery. Not in my mind, of course, but the critics are getting a hold of this and eating it up, I’m afraid."

  "I guess Rocco’s plans backfired pretty badly," Anthony said. "Looks like he’s played right into the ‘conspiracy’s’ hands."

  "If only it was just our reputations that were lost," Mark added.

  The others nodded.

  "Yes. A very sad outcome," Tim offered.

  Sad could not nearly describe what Mark was feeling. Despite what had taken place in the recent past, these people had been his friends, his colleagues. John had been his most trusted confidant, and Laura? Well, she had even shared his bed. His stomach turned inward with another spasm of inner pain. It was time to go home.

  "Thanks again for everything," Mark said, shaking Tim’s hand solemnly.

  Mabel gave him a heartfelt hug instead. "Anytime you’re in Texas, feel free to look us up."

  "I’m sure we’ll want some follow up on your work once the dust settles a bit," Tim added.

  "If my reputation isn’t in complete tatters," Mark said with half a grin.

  "Trust," Tim advised, looking Mark straight in the eye. "Sometimes God puts us through the refiner’s fire to make us more useful."

  "I’ll keep that in mind."

  The quartet waved their final good-byes and Mark and Anthony got into the waiting cab. Mark settled back into the seat, shutting his eyes in an attempt to block out the rush of emotions that continually threatened to overtake him when he thought
about recent events. Maybe he never should have pursued this thing in the first place. If he had only listened to Laura, to the Director of Archaeology back in New Mexico - to any voice of reason, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe then, Laura and John would be alive. Was telling the truth really worth such a cost?

  "Hey, you awake?" Anthony nudged Mark in the shoulder.

  "Hm?" Mark opened his eyes.

  "Check out the car behind us," Anthony said. "Or should I say, the driver of the car."

  Mark turned around and peered out the back window of the taxi. He let out a gust of air.

  "No way. It can’t be."

  "The guy certainly has balls, I’ll give you that," Anthony said.

  "Hey, driver.” Mark leaned forward. "I think we’re being tailed. You got a police band on your radio?"

  The driver looked in his rear view mirror. "Who are you? I don’t want no trouble.” He moved into the far right lane. "I’ll drop you off. That’ll be eleven fifty. I don’t want no trouble."

  "Whoa! Wait a minute," Anthony interjected. "We don’t want trouble either. Just keep going. But faster."

  "I don’t want no trouble," the cabby repeated.

  "Then keep going," Mark advised. "I’ll call the police myself." He dialled the number.

  Rocco had pulled up beside them on the left and was gesturing for them to pull over.

  "Ignore him," Mark said, waiting for the police to answer. "Hello? Yeah, I’ve got a location on a guy named Rocco Cortez. There’s a warrant out for his arrest." There was a pause. "Yeah. He’s headed down the freeway now, going south toward the airport. Right. He’s in a green sedan…” The police took the rest of the pertinent information and Mark hung up the phone.

  "Okay," he said more to himself than anyone else. "If we can just keep him with us, the police should be able to head him off at the next overpass."

  "I don’t want no trouble," the cabby said again, almost whining as if he was trying to convince himself now.

  "You’re doing a great job," Mark assured.

  "Yeah. Consider it your civic duty. The guys a nut case. A criminal."

  The cab driver gripped the wheel even tighter as he rounded the next bend, Rocco staying close by on his left. Suddenly, Rocco swerved toward them, side swiping the cab with enough force to make it momentarily veer into the sidewall and bounce off again. "I don’t want no trouble!" the cabby shouted, almost in tears.

  "Keep driving," Mark shouted back. He looked at Anthony, who was holding onto his side. "You okay?"

  Anthony nodded, grimacing. "I just hadn’t braced myself, that’s all. I’ll be ready next time."

  "There better not be a next time," Mark said through clenched teeth. "Can’t you go any faster?"

  There was a next time. This time he could see the sparks fly with the impact.

  "He’s crazy, I tell you," Anthony muttered.

  Mark nodded. “I know.”

  They were rounding another curve, this time to the left, when Rocco hit the taxi once again. This time, the force of the impact sent the cab over the edge, air born for a millisecond, before landing with a jarring thud on a grassy section amid the spaghetti factory called freeway. Rocco’s green sedan bumped afterward, coming to an abrupt halt ten feet away.

  The cab driver ejected himself as quickly as possible from the driver’s seat and took off running. Anthony lay slumped in the back seat. For his part, Mark had taken a bump to the head, which was already forming into a goose egg, but was none the worse for wear. He checked Anthony’s pulse. His friend let out a groan. That was a good sign. Glancing to the side, he saw Rocco’s stocky figure looming in the back window.

  "Get out, turncoat," Rocco growled as he jerked the rear door open.

  Mark had no choice but to comply, being half jerked out of the back seat by one of Rocco’s powerful hands. He held a pistol in the other.

  "All I did for you," Rocco ranted, waving the gun. "Everything. And you turn on me. What kind of a friend is that?"

  "You turned on yourself," Mark countered, raising his hands slowly to chest height. "How could you do it, man? Laura and John were innocent."

  "Innocent?" Rocco spat. "How can you say that after what they did to you? To all of us. To the cause."

  "I don’t know what cause you’re talking about," Mark said. He tried to keep his voice calm, though everything inside of him was screaming with adrenaline. "Maybe they had different views, but that doesn’t mean they deserved to die."

  "We all die one day," Rocco countered philosophically. "Some just sooner than others."

  Mark shook his head. "I thought I knew you. Thought you were my friend. But this - this monster that you’ve become! What happened to the Rocco I knew?"

  "He got stomped on one too many times. Oh yeah, you were my friend - when you wanted to be. But do you know what it’s like being bossed around by a bunch of young intellectuals that think they know more than you just because they got a piece of paper that says ‘Doctor’ on it? Man, I been around longer than any of you. And I know my job, too. But, I always had to bow to what the ‘experts’ had to say."

  "So that’s it? You were jealous?”

  Rocco snorted. "Jealous? Naw. Just fed up. I been on too many sites where the truth gets covered up with fancy theories that don’t add up. It was time someone told the truth. I thought you were the man."

  "I was. I am," Mark said. "You heard it. The truth was told, so why did you have to go and commit murder?"

  "It wouldn’t be long before they twisted everything you had to say and made it sound like a fool’s fairy tale. I know how these things go. I had to stop them before they had a chance."

  "But there are other ways, Rocco. Legal ways," Mark reasoned, as if talking to a child.

  Rocco snorted. "I’ve tried that. Doesn’t work in the end. The only way is to eliminate the problem."

  "By committing murder?”

  "I did what I had to do.” Rocco shrugged. "And I’m really sorry, Amigo, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to join them." Rocco had steadied himself and was now pointing the gun straight at Mark’s head.

  "What would that prove?" Mark asked. "You’re just digging yourself in, deeper and deeper."

  "You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you Dr. Graham? You think I’ve gone off my rocker and you can somehow sweet talk your way out of this one, don’t you? Well, let me tell you a little secret. You’re not as smart as you think you are. I was able to keep pretty close tabs on everything - even your secure files."

  "What files are we talking about?"

  "Everything. Back in Africa; in North America… It wasn’t very hard, my friend. You should really have chosen more obscure passwords. I mean, how hard was that to figure out? ‘Jack’ and ‘Sax’? For a Doctor, I’d say you’re not too bright."

  "Okay. So what was the point of that? I would have told you anything you needed to know.”

  "Ah, really? For one thing, I found out that the government was getting a little too nosy. That Sangeruka fellow was starting to push his weight around."

  "Sangeruka," Mark repeated. "Just what exactly did you have to do with him?"

  "As little as possible," Rocco admitted. "Although I did try to throw him off the trail just a bit."

  "Meaning?"

  "Missing artefacts, the cave in… my own little insurance should he and his cronies come snooping around."

  "What? I don’t see how that helped -"

  "Of course you don’t," Rocco cut him off in a reasonable tone of voice. "That’s because you’re not seeing the bigger picture. I was looking forward to what I knew would be the next great cover up. Oh yes, I knew as soon as I laid eyes on that first wing bone that we were heading down another one of those trails. I just had to make sure that when the time came, you’d have enough firsthand experience to believe me."

  "That doesn’t make any sense," Mark said. "You’re sick."

  "Watch it.” Rocco laughed. "This sicko is the one holding the gun, remember?"


  "So what about my arrest? Did you mastermind that as well?"

  "That didn’t go quite as planned," Rocco admitted. "Especially not the part about me getting chased and losing the casket."

  "So that part is true?" Mark asked. "The casket is still intact, buried somewhere?"

  Rocco nodded. "Of course. Why would I lie about that? Too bad you won’t be around when I retrieve it."

  Why indeed. "So how did I manage to get released?" Mark asked.

  "That I don’t know. Maybe the good Lord was looking out for you even back then.” Rocco shrugged. "In any case, it’s time for you to meet your maker now."

  Rocco’s gaze flicked to the side, momentarily distracted by the distant sound of sirens.

  Mark heard it, too. "Give it up, Rocco. The cops'll be here any minute. You’ll never get away with another murder."

  Rocco focused on his victim once again. "Might as well go out with a bang, then." He laughed at his own joke; a sickening maniacal sound. "Any last requests?"

  Wham! Rocco toppled to the ground as the simultaneous sounds of a grunt and the bark of the gun mingled. Pain shot through Mark’s body and he fell backwards. He grasped for his shoulder and blinked past the heat at the sight of Anthony sprawled on top of Rocco. The gun lay on the ground and Anthony scrambled to pick it up before Rocco could get to his feet.

  Still on his knees, Anthony trained the weapon on Rocco. “Mark, you okay?" he rasped, holding his side with one arm as he tried to keep his other arm steady.

  "I’ve been hit," Mark groaned. "I think it’s my shoulder."

  Sirens blared in their ears, a police car arrived on the scene, bumping its way over the rough terrain.

  "Put your weapon down!" a commanding voice shouted over a megaphone.

  Anthony dropped the gun and put his hands in the air as far as he was able, bending forward slightly with the effort.

  "He’s not the one," Mark tried to shout. His own voice sounded disturbingly far away.

  Suddenly everything went black.

  Chapter Thirty

  Here he was, back in Winnipeg, in the comfort of his parents’ home. With his injured shoulder, and all the other trauma he’d suffered recently, it didn’t take much convincing on their part for him to stay with them for awhile. Besides, he could use the pampering.