The Death Relic

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘Chase,’ she said into her earpiece, ‘what’s your ETA?’

  He answered. ‘About two minutes out.’

  She glanced at her watch. They would barely make the deadline. ‘Keep me posted.’

  ‘Will do, Red.’

  ‘How’s it looking, Boom?’

  He scanned the plaza from his vantage point. ‘Looks clear, but not for long.’

  She froze, concerned. ‘Why?’

  Boom laughed. ‘Because I’m about to blow this fucker up.’

  She cracked a smile. ‘Church, what about you?’

  ‘I was fine until I heard some tourist say the cathedral’s falling down.’

  She nodded. ‘I heard that, too.’

  Church glanced up at the cathedral, paranoid. ‘You, what?’

  ‘Don’t worry! I promise you’ll die fast,’ Boom assured him.

  ‘Not funny. Not funny at all.’

  Chase spoke again. ‘One minute out.’

  Boom continued to tease Church. ‘Jesus Christ, will you look at all that scaffolding? And that isn’t American scaffolding. That’s Mexican scaffolding. There’s no way that stuff will hold. That shit’s gonna look like a game of pick-up sticks when I’m done with it.’

  Church leapt off his bench. ‘That does it. I’m out of here.’

  She turned towards the cathedral. ‘Stay put, and that’s an order.’

  ‘But—’

  She cut him off. ‘If you leave your post, you lose your share.’

  He growled at her but said nothing.

  She continued her rundown. ‘Cash, where are you?’

  ‘Circling the fucking block. Like I have been. For an hour.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Bro, what about you?’

  ‘I’m in position, bro. Just say the word and I’ll be there.’

  She nodded, feeling confident, as she glanced towards the road from the east.

  The fun was about to begin.

  36

  With weapons on his mind and two busloads of tourists pouring through the gates of Tulum, Payne excused himself from the site and headed back to the H2 where he could call the Pentagon. Payne knew he walked a fine line with Raskin, who wasn’t obliged to help him, but did so out of a sense of loyalty and friendship, so he was reluctant to phone him again. But the more he pondered the cache of weapons in the Hummer, the more apprehensive he became.

  Something about them felt off.

  As if they didn’t belong to Hamilton.

  Known for his gut instincts, Payne decided to follow his hunch and pursue the gun angle, even if it meant pissing off his friend.

  Raskin answered on the first ring. ‘Research.’

  ‘Randy, it’s Jon.’

  He immediately tensed. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

  ‘What about DJ?’

  ‘He’s fine, too.’

  Raskin breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Then why are you calling me?’

  ‘I need your help.’

  ‘No shit! The only time you call is when you need my help. I’m pretty sure we established that in our earlier conversation.’

  ‘I know we did, but—’

  ‘Listen,’ Raskin said, ‘things are a little bit hectic for me at the moment. I haven’t had a chance to run down your information yet.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Good? Did you say good? I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that. Why is it good?’

  ‘Because I have something else to add to my list.’

  ‘OK! That’s more like it. That’s the Jon I know. You’re not pulling back. You’re merely piling on. Just once I’d like you to call me and say, “Thanks anyway, but I figured it out on my own.” That would truly make my day.’

  Payne smiled at the sarcasm. ‘I wouldn’t hold my breath.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’m merely tweaking your original search. I’m not adding a brand-new category. In my opinion, that would be rude.’

  ‘Fine. Which part are you tweaking?’

  ‘We found more weapons.’

  Raskin opened a digital notepad on his screen. It contained information about Hamilton’s single-action revolver from their earlier conversation. ‘Another Mexican special?’

  ‘Nope. Two AKs and some C-4.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In Hamilton’s vehicle.’

  Raskin grunted. ‘Is he an anthropologist or a mercenary?’

  Payne smiled. ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out.’

  ‘Well, I’ll see what I can do. The AKs might be easier to trace than the revolver. Big guns tend to get more attention in Mexico.’

  ‘That’s what I figured. That’s why I called you back.’

  ‘Fine. Give me their serial numbers.’

  ‘Hold on. Give me a second. I gotta open the Hummer.’

  Raskin grumbled. ‘Come on, man. I’m in a hurry.’

  ‘Sorry about that, but I’m in a public setting. I have to do this discreetly.’

  ‘In that case, just text me the numbers.’

  Payne nodded. He didn’t want to press his luck with Raskin. ‘Good idea. I’ll send you a text as soon as I can.’

  ‘Great. Can’t wait.’

  ‘And as a token of thanks, I’ll send you that bikini photo you asked for. I snapped a picture during lunch that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.’

  ‘Awesome. I’m looking forward to it.’

  Payne was about to hang up when he remembered one last thing. ‘Wait!’

  Raskin sighed. ‘What it is now?’

  ‘Quick computer question.’

  ‘Holy fuck! Can’t you tell that I’m busy?’

  ‘Yes, I can, but this is important. I actually talked to another computer guy about this because I didn’t want to disturb you, but—’

  Raskin cut him off. ‘Hold up! You did what?’

  ‘I said I talked to anoth—’

  ‘Oh no! I heard you the first time,’ Raskin snapped. ‘You talked to another computer guy behind my back. Why would you do that?’

  ‘I didn’t want to bother you.’

  ‘You didn’t want to bother me?’ he mocked. ‘Do I know this nerd?’

  Payne shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. He lives in Mexico.’

  ‘He lives in Mexico? Oh, I see how you are. You leave the country for a little R&R and you immediately forget about your man in DC. Well, Captain Payne, the only R&R you should be worried about is Randy Raskin.’

  Payne laughed at the jealous rant. He knew Raskin was only kidding. At least he hoped he was kidding. If not, they needed to have a serious conversation. ‘Just a minute. I thought you said you were busy?’

  ‘I am, but I couldn’t resist. I needed to blow off some steam.’

  ‘No apologies necessary. Glad I could help.’

  ‘So, what’s your computer question?’

  ‘I tracked down some security footage from the hotel. A second before Hamilton disappears, the screen goes black. No static. No disruption of power. The image simply goes black.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘Precisely five minutes.’

  ‘Precisely? What, did you time it?’

  ‘Didn’t have to. The video counter kept rolling during the blackout.’

  Raskin leaned back in his chair. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘I checked the camera before I left the hotel. There’s no way to access it without a ladder. It’s mounted high on a wall in the front driveway.’

  ‘Did your boyfriend do a system check?’

  ‘You mean DJ?’

  Raskin laughed. ‘Not your girlfriend. I meant the other computer guy.’

  Payne smiled. He was used to Raskin busting his balls about Jones, not about other people. ‘He did, and he claims everything is running fine. The thing that confused him the most is the file itself. He said the simplest solution would have been to delete the whole video. Just wipe it out completely. But that isn�
�t what happened here. Someone took the time to conceal one tiny sliver. He can’t figure out how it was done, and I can’t figure out why.’

  Intrigued by the problem, Raskin leaned back even further. The chair groaned in protest as he considered the pieces of the puzzle. ‘Your boyfriend’s right. The simplest solution would have been to wipe out the entire file. Of course, that might have been noticed.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Most security systems have a series of checks and balances to guarantee a clean operation. Scans are scheduled throughout the day to monitor the health of the most important files. If a file is missing or a hobbit is detected, the operator is notified.’

  ‘Did you say “hobbit”?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Like the character from The Lord of the Rings?’

  Raskin corrected him. ‘Hobbits are a race of diminutive beings that occupy Middle Earth, not a single character.’

  ‘Good Lord! You are a nerd.’

  ‘I never said I wasn’t.’

  ‘Well, I’m not, so I need you to explain what a computer hobbit is.’

  ‘It used to be the name of an eight-bit Soviet computer system, but those suckers are obsolete. And by suckers, I mean the computer systems and the Soviets. We sure kicked their asses in the Cold War, didn’t we?’

  Payne ignored the taunt. ‘And what does it mean now?’

  ‘It’s a file that comes up short. You know, like a hobbit.’

  ‘Define short.’

  Raskin put up his feet on the desk. ‘Most security systems are set up in loops. Five hours, ten hours, twelve hours, whatever. At the end of that period, the old file is saved and a new file is hatched. Because of these time limits, every file should have the same amount of information. The images will be different, but the size of the files is identical.’

  ‘I’m with you so far.’

  ‘Now, if something happens to one of these files – the camera goes down, the software malfunctions, or someone deletes a section – the size of the file is going to be shortened.’

  ‘Making it a hobbit.’

  ‘Exactly. But that’s not what happened in Mexico. Someone actually took the time to black out a section of the video. That means its size remained the same as the other files.’

  ‘Meaning the operator wouldn’t be notified of a system error.’

  Raskin nodded. ‘If you hadn’t spotted the gap with your own eyes, the odds are pretty damn good that no one would have noticed it.’

  Payne stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘To black out a video like that, how good would a hacker have to be?’

  Raskin whistled. ‘Pretty damn good.’

  ‘Too skilled for you to catch?’

  ‘That depends. How hot is the bikini photo you’re going to send?’

  ‘Pretty damn hot.’

  Raskin grinned. ‘In that case, I can catch him.’

  37

  Angel weaved his way across several lanes of traffic until the SUV was in the innermost lane. The road encircled the Zócalo like a racetrack around a stone infield. Sitting in the passenger seat, Hector stared at the giant Mexican flag in the centre of the historic plaza. In all his years, he couldn’t remember it being so still. Normally, it flapped and fluttered in the violent breeze. Today, it looked like a hanged man, dangling lifeless above the square.

  Fraught with guilt, Hector viewed it as a sign.

  This was where he would be punished for his sins.

  Angel eased the wheels of the SUV over the kerb, then drove towards the centre of the plaza. Despite the confused looks from the locals, who weren’t used to seeing vehicles in the square, he parked 15 feet north of the flagpole. Three tourists stood in front of them. Two were posing for a picture and the third was the photographer. Other than that, the area around the flag was completely clear.

  No cars. No gunmen. No drama.

  Just another day at the Zócalo.

  Hector glanced at his watch and noted the time. They were one minute early for the meeting. If the caller kept his promise, Hector’s kids wouldn’t be injured. For that, he breathed a sigh of relief. If anything happened to them, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He truly wouldn’t. Despite his history of violence, he was still a father, and he cared deeply about the welfare of his kids. Otherwise he wouldn’t be willing to give up so much to get them back.

  Angel glanced at him. ‘Now what?’

  Hector shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

  Unsure what to do, they just sat there. Helpless.

  They had the medallion. They had the money. They were on time.

  They had no choice but to wait.

  With her sunglasses and floppy hat, Tiffany blended in with the curious crowd. Unlike them, however, she was ready to launch an attack.

  ‘Light the east,’ she ordered.

  From his perch at the restaurant, Boom pushed a few keys on his computer. A split-second later, a series of devices were ignited on the far side of the plaza.

  Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

  One after another, rubbish bins erupted in thick plumes of white smoke. The explosions were virtually harmless, but terrifying nonetheless, especially for the people standing near them. One person screamed, then a dozen more followed. Before long, screaming and crying could be heard around the plaza as chaos spread like an invisible plague. Then people started to run.

  ‘Where are they going?’ she demanded.

  Boom studied the commotion in the plaza below and noted their movement. As expected, most of them were running towards him, trying to get as far from the smoke as possible. With very little wind to contend with, he could turn them any way he wanted. ‘They’re going west.’

  She figured as much. ‘Light the north.’

  Boom grinned and pushed another key.

  Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

  This time all the rubbish bins on the cathedral side of the plaza erupted like volcanoes, spewing smoke and an occasional piece of trash. Church stood up from his bench, calmly slipped on his gas mask and strolled through the smoke towards the square. As he did, he fired a few shots into the air, trying to drive everyone to the southwest. The reason for this was simple: Tiffany’s preferred escape route was to the north. The last thing they wanted was a load of people blocking traffic in that direction, so they tried to steer the crowd to the south.

  ‘How’s it looking?’ she asked.

  Boom laughed. ‘They’re stampeding like a herd of cattle.’

  ‘What about Hector?’

  ‘Still there.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, slipping on her gas mask. ‘Light him up.’

  Despite the smoke in the plaza and the gunshots behind them, Hector and Angel felt reasonably safe inside their SUV. With its armour plating and bulletproof windows, they knew it would take a serious weapon, like a rocket launcher, to threaten them.

  Tiffany knew that, too, which is why her goal was to force them out of the vehicle as soon as possible. With that in mind, her crew had placed a small incendiary device under the driver’s seat on the night they had installed the mobile-phone jammer. Known as a smoke canister, it was designed by the military to cover troop movements in the field. Once ignited, it produced an intense chemical reaction that released a stream of smoke for a short period of time.

  From his perch above the plaza, Boom activated the device with a touch of a button. A few seconds later, Hector and Angel stumbled out of the SUV and fell to the ground. Both men were gasping and coughing, desperately fighting for breath. More concerned with air than bullets, they paid little attention to their surroundings until their eyes and lungs started to clear. Only then did they notice the two people standing in front of them.

  Both were wearing gas masks. Both were holding guns.

  Hector and Angel were at their mercy.

  Sensing his life was about to end, Angel decided to go out in a blaze of glory. From his knees, he reached behind his back and grabbed the handle of his Glock. He had it halfway out o
f his belt when Church fired a bullet into his shoulder. Angel crumpled to the ground in agony as blood oozed from the wound. Before long, his entire sleeve was bright red. Church rushed forward and kicked the Glock out of his hand, then checked him for additional weapons. Other than a small flask, he found nothing noteworthy in Angel’s pockets.

  Meanwhile, Tiffany kept her eye on Hector. He was on all fours, still trying to catch his breath. Three days earlier, he had been considered an untouchable criminal. Now he was a broken man. His eyes still watering from the smoke, he glared at her through tears.

  ‘Chase,’ she announced, ‘the bank is open.’

  Positioned near the northeast corner of the plaza, Chase drove his bright-green cab towards the giant flag, which was one of the few things still visible in the square. By now, a light breeze had started blowing in from the east. It pushed the smoke towards the middle of the Zócalo, like a fog bank drifting towards shore. Chase turned on his headlights to guide his way.

  Ten seconds later, he pulled up directly behind the SUV.

  Thanks to the placement of his boot, which is located in the front of older Beetles, Chase was able to load the money with relative ease. He took three sealed bricks, each containing a million dollars, and placed them inside a large duffel bag. Although there was room for a few more bricks, they had agreed to split the money amongst three cars. No sense in giving the entire score to one driver. This way, if someone got killed or captured, it wouldn’t be a total loss.

  Chase closed his trunk as Cash pulled in next to him.

  They nodded at each other, but didn’t say a word.

  There was still work to be done.

  By this time, the canister inside the SUV had run out of smoke. As the final fumes escaped through the open hatch, Chase peered into the vehicle. Sitting in the backseat was a small wooden cube. It was nondescript in every way. No carvings. No keyhole. No markings of any kind. Less than 2 feet in height, it had been strapped down like a car seat. Chase opened the back door and undid the seatbelt, careful not to scratch the wood. Then, without opening the lid, he carried the box towards Tiffany, who was the only one who knew what was supposed to be inside. Though he was tempted to peek, he was being paid a million dollars to fight the urge. That was part of the deal from the very beginning. Acquire the object, but don’t look at it.