Shrouded in Secrets

by Kim McMahill

  Washburn tapped a couple of keys on the keyboard, and graphics of the seven stolen crystal sculptures emerged on the screen in mesmerizing detail. Next, images of each crime scene flashed to life, culminating with the devastating aftermath of the Sphinx destruction, an image now burned forever into Cash’s memory.

  “Stand up, Ms. Espinoza. I believe your doctoral work may have exposed you to the legend. Please enlighten Mr. Luker and anyone else in this room who hasn’t bothered to look at the briefing paper my senior staff spent hours preparing and emailing to everyone concerned.”

  Cash glared at Washburn, but kept his thoughts to himself. He drove straight from the airport, hadn’t eaten in nearly two days, and would gladly kill his boss in exchange for a shower, clean clothes, and a cheeseburger. Of course he hadn’t read his email. But at the moment, he was more concerned with what had Diane looking as if she had just seen a long-dead relative.

  “Yes, sir.” Diane stood and cleared her throat, wiping her palms on her slacks as she took in all eyes focused on her, and she moved to the front of the room.

  Marjorie Burton knelt down and continued picking up the glass, but Cash could tell she was paying close attention by the way her gaze tracked Diane’s movements. Ian Murray leaned back in his chair and cocked his head as if sizing her up, and Diego’s eyes darted between Diane and Marjorie’s bobbing blonde head. All the scrutiny and the Director’s snide remarks seemed to unnerve Diane, and Cash wasn’t sure how to help ease the tension.

  “Well, according to the legends of many first peoples of North, Central, and South America, including the Navajo, Pueblo, Maya, and Aztecs, there exists thirteen crystal heads or skulls left behind and hidden throughout the world by our earliest ancestors. Many different variations of the legend survive, but all agree in part that these revered relics were an immense source of knowledge and wisdom and held power beyond imagination. The prophesy claims the crystals will be rediscovered and brought together at a time of great crisis. Look at the newspapers or television, and I’d say the past couple years and current world situations qualify. Humanity will have a choice—accept and utilize the sacred knowledge, which will be vital to the survival of the human race, or abuse the power and suffer unimaginable destruction.”

  “What kind of destruction?” Cash asked.

  Diane shrugged her shoulders. “No version of the legend I’m aware of has ever elaborated.”

  “As you stated, Ms. Espinoza, the story is just a legend. Surely you don’t take enough stock in a tale you read about in a book to startle you into dropping a coffee pot and nearly burning Ms. Burton.”

  “No.” Diane loathed Washburn’s mocking tone and hated looking the fool. She inhaled several deep breaths to steady her voice and glanced over at Cash. The concern in his eyes felt like a strong arm bracing her up. She knew he took her seriously, even if no one else did, so she continued.

  “Then please, do elaborate,” Washburn commanded.

  “It’s not just the thefts of the legendary artifacts that startled me. It’s the timing and the scope of the involvement. We know who the culprits were in Egypt, since Ms. Burton witnessed the theft. The young men likely acted on behalf of a third party, those responsible for the museum break-ins. As for the timing, yesterday when the synchronized burglaries occurred was the equinox, a very significant event to indigenous groups.”

  “What do you mean?” Cash asked.

  “With so many artifacts stolen during the equinox, I think someone is trying to guide us in the wrong direction or deliver some kind of message. The date of the thefts point to one of the tribes of North or South America, but they would never bring the crystals togethereverso my guess is someone chose the equinox in hopes of sending us on a wild goose chase. And, as I already mentioned, not only does the legend claim the relics possess the power to cause incomprehensible devastation, the story clearly states the objects will be brought together at a time of unprecedented calamity, which many argue the current world situation is unique and has no historical comparison, signaling the end of times.”

  “There you have the tabloid version, Mr. Luker. Thirteen crystal heads being amassed during these extraordinarily troubled times throughout most of the world, to bring destruction and the possible annihilation of the human race. Since the legends are a little vague on the results of the relic reunion, the tabloids will have a field day speculating about doomsday scenarios, and the terrorist group responsible for destroying the most recognizable monument in the world. This situation has caught the attention of the president, and he wants it cleared up before countries start pointing fingers at each other for the crimes. He doesn’t want to add to the uncertainty everyone is feeling right now or give any ammunition to those predicting the end of the world. Reconvene first thing in the morning, and I’m sure, Mr. Luker, you will have a plan by then. Dismissed.”

  Cash held back until everyone left the room except for Diane. “Meet me at the pub. Get us a table and order the usual for me. I’m starved and haven’t eaten in days. I’ll be there as soon as I talk to our beloved leader.”

  “Don’t push me, Casanova. I’m in no mood to take crap from anyone, and I have a few things to say to Washburn myself, which might just include my resignation.”

  “Trust me for once, will you? I have a plan, but I have to sell Washburn on it first. This could be the break we need to get you some justice. And quit calling me that.”

  Diane stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Sorry I’m such a hotheaded pain in the butt sometimes. I know you always have my back. Dinner’s on me. Oh, and for your information, I just call it like I see it.”

  Cash watched Diane walk out the door and shook his head. He hoped his instincts were correct as far as she was concerned. Her temper flared quickly and her moods could change in an instant, but she was smart, tough, and resourceful. He was sure she would make a good field agent, but if his gut was wrong, the consequences could be deadly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  September 24, 6:00 A.M.

  Pucallpa, Peru

  KAYANAKÚ STUMBLED INTO the city, her eyes wide with fear. She had never left her home in the jungle before, but now her village was gone—every hut burned, every villager murdered. People stopped and stared as she walked slowly down the sidewalk, hand on her belly and grief in her swollen and blackened eyes. The hard surface scalded her bare feet, but she didn’t notice the pain over the agony in her heart.

  She wasn’t sure where to go for help or who to trust. After wandering for six days, surviving on the little food she could find and almost no water, she was weakening and feared for her unborn child’s life, certain they would not survive much longer on their own.

  Only a few residents littered the streets when she first reached the outskirts of the town, but as the sun climbed higher in the sky and she penetrated the city, the walkways became filled with people dressed much differently from her. Loud and large colorful objects sped by her, sounding horns if she got too close, making her heart beat faster.

  With each step, Kayanakú found it more difficult to keep her balance, exhaustion taking its toll. The familiar site of trees in a grassy area gave her encouragement and strength to press forward, despite the frightening structures surrounding the natural vegetation on all sides. She made her way to the shade, curled up on the cool ground beneath a tree, and closed her eyes.

  Her mind filled with visions of Kokush. He had been a good spiritual leader and father-in-law. When she regained consciousness after the attack, she hadn’t seen his body among the carnage, so she thought he had escaped. But as she left the ruins of the village behind, her hopes were crushed. Shortly after abandoning the charred huts, she stumbled across his lifeless form clutching the bark cloth. Spying the empty hole under the horóva tree, she knew the invaders had discovered their ancient secret, and she feared the consequences. Her mind then wandered to her husband. He had fought valiantly, but was no match for the weapons of
the sinister attackers. Now alone, all that mattered was to save their unborn child.

  Kayanakú slept, tossing and turning, as the horror of the slaughter replayed in her dreams, and the blackened face of the evil woman taunted her. The curves of the female’s body had revealed she was indeed a human, otherwise Kayanakú would have believed she had seen the fabled demon spirit. The woman had given the orders and had shown no remorse as the villagers were beaten and killed.

  The anguished cries from mothers torn away from their children rang loudly through Kayanakú’s subconscious, and the sound of gunfire made her curl into a tighter ball and moan. The vision of her husband falling dead to the ground, and the pain on uncle’s face as the intruder held the knife to his throat was too clear to push out of her mind.

  A warm soft hand on her shoulder gave her hope that the horrors had been a bad dream, and her husband was waking her for the day. Opening her eyes, fear pierced through her consciousness like a knife to the heart, forcing her abruptly out of her slumber. Whimpering and jerking back, Kayanakú cowered, clutching her belly, as a woman dressed from head to toe in black gently shook her.

  “Don’t be frightened, child. I mean no harm. I am a nun, a sister serving the Lord, and I can take you to my church and give you food and water and help for your baby.”

  Kayanakú couldn’t understand the words, but something in the woman’s tone reassured her. Though the old woman wore cloth the color of midnight, the garb was different from that worn by the invaders who had destroyed her village. The terrifying intruders’ clothing clung to their bodies like a second skin, and they had painted their faces to match. This woman’s dress flowed loosely to the ground and a cloth concealed her hair. Her complexion was very pale and wrinkled, her smile warm and comforting. Her touch was tender, and her voice soft and soothing, as she helped Kayanakú to her feet.

  A pain in her abdomen doubled Kayanakú over. She looked up into the sympathetic eyes of the woman and saw concern and kindness. With no other option if she hoped to survive and save her baby’s life, Kayanakú decided to trust the woman. Leaning on the nun’s shoulder, they walked slowly away from the shaded grounds.

  The nun held her tight, and for the first time in days, Kayanakú no longer felt alone. The two women approached the largest, most beautiful structure Kayanakú could imagine. Its spires shot skyward, taller than the trees, and its surface was carved with decorations and figures like none she had ever seen, not even in the drawings Kokush had made of the etchings on the box containing the sacred relic stolen from her people.

  She feared the unfamiliar site as they slowly climbed up the steps toward the entrance, but she was too weak to resist. Huge doors eased open and they entered the cool interior. Rows of wooden benches and a gilded altar were dimly lit by candles flickering near the front of the massive room, and beams of colorful light filtering in through the high, arched stained-glass windows. Kayanakú’s eyes followed the murals up toward the soaring ceiling, and she inhaled the strong aroma of incense and damp musty air. Her knees buckled. She looked into the eyes of the woman trying to hold her up and all went dark.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  September 24, 9:00 A.M.

  Langley, Virginia

  CASH ARRIVED LATE as usual. The same group, less Owen Washburn, from the previous day sat around the large table, sipping coffee while Diane typed furiously at her keyboard. He couldn’t believe how perky she looked after how late they’d stayed out the night before. They celebrated, until the pub closed, Cash’s victory in convincing Washburn to promote Diane to a field agent to assist him on the current assignment. Cash had argued that her knowledge of the legend and her ties to the Navajo community would be a major asset to the investigation.

  He took a seat near the head of the table and gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from Pete. The tall lanky young scientist sported unruly dishwater-blond hair and wore small, round wire-framed glasses, perfectly portraying the stereotypical science-geek. Cash always joked with the other field agents about the nerds in the Science and Technology unit, and now he felt a little guilty. Pete seemed like an okay guy, but Cash wondered why he was included and how he would hold up in the field where the real action took place.

  His eyes returned to Diane. Her long black hair, gathered into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, swayed and shimmered as she walked over and shut the door. Wearing tan slacks and a matching blazer with flat functional shoes, she projected an image of all business, and Cash was glad he had put his trust in her. He continued to watch her work as he sipped his coffee, hoping the fog engulfing his brain would soon lift.

  When Diane returned to her seat, she angled toward Cash and gave him a scathing look that made him smile.

  “What are you smiling about? You’re late, you look like heck, and we’ve got work to do. Diego received a call from his office in Argentina that makes me believe time is running short. Check this out.”

  Cash turned to the lit screen embedded in the wall. In one column, the numbers one through thirteen were highlighted in bold. Next to the first four were the words, “Smithsonian,” next to the fifth, “British Museum,” then “Paris Museum,” “Egypt,” and in the eighth slot, “Peru.”

  “Peru?”

  “Diego was notified, just a few minutes ago, that an Asháninka woman, from the forests of the Amazonian part of the eastern Andean foothills of Peru, stumbled into Pucallpa. She was dehydrated, bruised, and close to losing her baby. A nun found her sleeping in the central plaza and took her to her church. The sister kept her there and sent for a doctor, and someone who could translate the tribal language the young woman spoke. After much coaxing, the frightened woman revealed that five heavily armed invaders dressed in black stormed her village killing everyone, burning their homes and stealing a sacred relic. She was the only survivor of the massacre.”

  Cash rubbed his temples and swallowed a couple of pain relievers in an attempt to chase away the headache that refused to subside. Combing his fingers through his hair, which was still a little damp, he cursed his poor judgment the night before.

  “Let me guess. This relic is a creepy crystal head.”

  “Bingo. The way I see it, whether you believe in ancient legends or not, someone is trying to gather up the thirteen crystals, leaving destruction and death in their wake. It’s anyone’s guess what they plan to do with the objects once reunited, but we better beat them to the next one before any more civilians die,” Diane stated.

  Cash studied the group assembled at the table. He wasn’t sure where to begin. He’d read the briefing while trying to choke down a slice of dry toast for breakfast. The whole idea of a bunch of crystal skulls of unknown origin possessing some miraculous power worth breaking into the most secure museums in the world, annihilating an entire village, and blowing up the Sphinx—and hopefully the pretty blonde British archeologist hiding in its shadows—was making his headache even worse.

  He glanced over at Marjorie. Her arm rested in a sling. The cuts and bruises on her face were fading, but she had clearly been through quite an ordeal. He scanned the report on the explosion. It was a miracle she had survived, being so close to the detonation point.

  “Marjorie, do I understand correctly, that scientific tests have been performed on some of these artifacts?”

  “Yes. The museum and several private corporations analyzed them quite a few years ago. Unfortunately, disagreement continues on whether or not the objects are truly ancient. You can’t carbon date pure crystal, and most of the relics show no tool markings to indicate how they were made or during what era of our history. The items have always been an interesting mystery and a source of contentious arguments, but few in the scientific community take any of the gloom and doom of the various legends seriously. The heads or skulls, as some call them, appear to be of Mayan origin, and that’s one thing I can’t wrap my mind around right now.”

  “What do you mean?” Cash asked.

  “Well, how did a Mayan artifact end up under the paw
of the Sphinx in Egypt?”

  “Are you sure the item stolen in Egypt was of Mayan design?

  “I’ve been pouring over data on the Mayan culture ever since it happened, and if I’m not mistaken, the Egyptian crystal is a three-dimensional Mayan head-variant of number twelve or god Twelve, if you will. It looks more Egyptian than any of the other figures in the ancient numbering system, but it’s still clearly Mayan.”

  Cash couldn’t quite grasp what Marjorie was saying and sensed all eyes focused on him. He was the leader of this operation, so he knew he might as well formulate a plan and put it into action. The sooner he could bury the potential hysteria-creating event, the sooner he could return to tracking down Raul, who had slipped through his fingers once again due to Washburn’s untimely summons.

  “Did you make any notes you can forward to Pete? His shop will be our clearing house for data and will organize and analyze everything we come up with.”

  Marjorie nodded and pulled out her phone. As Cash watched her slender fingers fly across the tiny keyboard, retrieving the information for Pete, his mind wandered. He didn’t feel too emotional about the museum break-ins, but he would personally make sure those responsible for blowing up the Sphinx and murdering an entire unarmed village were brought to justice. The thought of the survivor—young, pregnant, frightened, and alone—made him sick.

  After all his years in the field, he still hadn’t reached the point where horrific incidents no longer affected him. Other agents claimed they eventually developed the ability to look clinically at the horrors of terrorist acts, but so far, he hadn’t been able to do it completely, and he didn’t want to. The job had already stolen so much of his soul that he wasn’t always comfortable with the person he had become.

  Frustrated that Raul had gotten away again, he decided he needed to put it out of his mind for the time being and focus on the situation at hand. If nothing else, Diane was finally getting a shot to prove her worth in the field and distance herself from Washburn’s scrutiny. He and Washburn had started out together, but after Hong Kong, the incident had relegated Cash to a life in the shadows, while Washburn had scampered up the ranks. He didn’t really want to leave field-ops, but it galled him to have to work for a low-class slime ball like Washburn. He’d keep chipping away at the bad guys, no matter the risk, until they caught up to him, his body gave out, or until he found a reason to come home at night.