by Kim McMahill
“Ahem.” Diane’s not-so-subtle throat clearing brought him back to the task at hand.
“Pete, have someone compare pictures of the artifacts stolen from the museums with these Mayan head-variant numbers Marjorie mentioned, and gather up all the existing test results on the crystals and try to piece together some scientific facts, so we have something to present to Washburn besides a bunch of myth and legend mumbo-jumbo. Diane, we need an expert on this subject who can point us toward the possible locations of the remaining five relics.”
“Done. I’ve already got the CIA jet standing by to take us to Arizona.” Diane powered down her computer as she spoke, her eyes never meeting Cash’s.
“What aren’t you telling me? Who exactly is this expert?”
“Trust me, she’s the best out there.”
“Diane?”
“Okay, it’s Olivia.”
“As in your sister, Olivia Begay? I thought you said she was a nut job who talked to spirits and stuff?”
Diane ignored his remark, feeling like a traitor for portraying her sister in such a negative light to Cash in the past. She loved Olivia. They had just never understood each other’s choices or beliefs. “Actually, she’s considered an expert on tribal lore. Whereas I chose to go to college, she decided to study tribal medicine, legends, and important characteristics of our culture, and how certain aspects overlap with other indigenous peoples of the Americas. Our mother is Navajo. Most of what I’ve told you, so far, about the relics I learned from Olivia. Contrary to Washburn’s snarky comment yesterday, I didn’t study crystal skulls in college, nor are they generally mentioned in academic textbooks. Anyway, according to the tribal elders and our mom, Olivia knows more about this kind of stuff than anyone else around.”
“Something funny?” Cash asked, shooting the grinning British agent an annoyed look.
“Not a bloody thing. Never liked working with CIA types in the past, but I think this might be a little more interesting than previous experiences. In fact, watching you two is making me miss my pigheaded baby sister and is reminding me why I never married.”
Cash shook his head. He hoped he hadn’t made a huge mistake bringing Diane on board his team. He always thought she was strong, capable, and level-headed. But now he was about to load two Brits, an Argentine, a science-geek, and a green field agent into the CIA’s jet and fly to Arizona to talk to a medicine woman based on her mother’s recommendation. He’d definitely need to put a different spin on the expenditure or he’d be Washburn’s new receptionist.
CHAPTER SIX
September 24, 10:00 A.M.
Cusco, Peru
ZARA RAISED THE crystal in the dim light of her room in the old warehouse she had rented in Cusco, Peru to serve as their base for operations. She rotated the mesmerizing artifact and examined its flawless construction. She had been skeptical of the relic’s reported potential at first, but as she held the newest addition to her collection in her hands, it was easy to believe they did, indeed, possess the power collectively to cause massive destruction. The thought brought a smile to her lips.
After Kamal and Ahmed’s report of what happened in Egypt when they shined their flashlight through the clear object, Zara kept the relics away from direct light, each stored separately. Now that she had obtained eight of the thirteen heads, her teams’ excitement sizzled, and she could taste victory.
Mustafa promised that if they acquired all of the crystals, they could deliver a blow to the Americans so severe their rewards in the afterlife would be great. The rest of the world would hold them in such reverence and fear that nothing would be beyond their grasp. Zara didn’t care much about the afterlife, nor did her brother, Marabout, or her right-hand man, Heinrich. But she was determined to avenge her father’s death, and they would all enjoy the power and wealth the relics would bring, if Mustafa was correct. And she was bored. It had been a long time since something had given her such stimulation—she needed fireworks in her life as much as she needed air to breathe. The thrill of the chase or a deadly treasure hunt always excited her, whether or not the process yielded monetary rewards. She never shared her rationale behind decisions with her team. Their job was to follow orders, not ask questions, but for now she would humor them, especially Mustafa, Reza, and her idealistic young Egyptians. Let them believe their cause was noble and just.
Zara unlocked the door adjoining her private quarters with the common work area. The rest of her team sat in concentrated silence, cleaning guns, sharpening knives and pecking at computer keyboards. She strode into the room holding the Egyptian head, the largest, most beautiful, and purest crystal they had acquired so far. Its narrow human-like eye sockets, noble sloping nose, pronounced lips and detailed features, including an ornate head-dress, gave the sculpture a regal air. Even more fascinating, though, the object maintained a constant temperature of about 70 degrees—no matter where it was stored.
“Get that out of here,” Mustafa demanded. “It’s damaging my electronics.”
Zara hadn’t considered the possibility as she carried the artifact into the room. The other relics had been stowed in individual lead-lined boxes and placed in a pad-locked chest awaiting a reunion with the rest. But this one’s stunning beauty compelled her to share the magnificent item with those whom she trusted the most, and its splendor nearly made her weep, something she had never done before, not even when her mother died. The woman was weak, which made survival to old age unlikely, and she had made the mistake of being too dependent on a man for security and luxury. Beautiful baubles held no allure over Zara, unlike many women, including her mother, though no one had ever accused her of being like other females, nor had anyone tried to win her affections by such a pitiful method of lavishing her with jewels.
She stowed the relic and reentered the room. Mustafa worked frantically to re-boot his computer system while mumbling softly. She hoped she hadn’t damaged the equipment, which made the whole operation possible. As far as Zara was concerned, Mustafa was a genius. He had obtained nearly all the information they needed over the Internet, through chat rooms, and by cultivating a cyber-relationship with a Navajo woman in the United States, rumored to be an expert on the subject of multicultural lore and the various legends surrounding the artifacts. Mustafa had never talked to her directly, but the team journeyed to her home, and now felt certain they knew everything she did and would not be left out of future discoveries.
“Any damage?” Zara asked.
Mustafa shook his head and sighed with relief, uttering a brief prayer. With the connections reestablished, the systems appeared to be functioning properly. He feared punishment for his slight outburst—raising his voice to Zara was a stupid mistake, but failure was not an option. If his computer had been damaged, progress on tracking down the remaining relics and figuring out how to use them, once brought together, would have come to a halt and he would have suffered the brunt of her anger for the delay. He failed her once, and her punishment had left a harsh reminder—never would he let it happen again.
His hand absently traced the length of the scar running from his right eye to the corner of his mouth as he watched his system run through its diagnostics, recovering from the near destruction due to its proximity to the crystal. He shuddered at the memory of Zara’s anger, but unlike those less fortunate, he was still alive. Sometimes he thought about trying to distance himself from her, but he knew it was pointless. If he tried to disappear, she would find him, and he would pay for the disobedience with his life, or worse. He couldn’t sacrifice the lives of his wife and children, so he continued to play the game.
“I’m nearly back up,” he said in an attempt to discourage her from looking over his shoulder. Her close proximity made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. The certainty that Zara would have no hesitation harming his family made it difficult for Mustafa to hide his hatred. When they first started doing business together, he had admired her intelligence, strength, and dedication to whatever cause or c
lient she happened to be working with. Now, he just feared and despised her. She stepped back and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Fine, we’ll get started. So far, it’s been easier to find and take the relics than I imagined. From here on out, we must be much more careful. As we know, the museum break-ins tipped off the authorities, and by what Mustafa has discovered, they will soon be following our same path. We hoped our timing would focus their attention on one of a number of groups who openly put stock in the legend, but the authorities were not fooled. We apparently underestimated the CIA. Don’t look so disappointed, Heinrich, it was a good idea on your part.”
He nodded, but didn’t look up as Zara spoke. He had worked for her and Marabout’s father for most of his adult life. Zara and Marabout’s father had served in the Afghanistan government until the Americans invaded the country, captured him, and executed him as a war criminal. Heinrich had been his bodyguard and loyal friend for decades, and he still couldn’t accept that he had failed. Heinrich couldn’t bring his mentor back, but he would do everything in his power to protect the man’s children and help them accomplish their goals.
“Mustafa, you will stay here and guard our treasures,” Zara said, returning Heinrich’s thoughts to his new leader. “Use that time to continue your work on how to use the crystals once we have acquired all thirteen, and keep researching where the last three are located, while we follow up on the leads you’ve uncovered. Needless to say, you must keep us informed of the CIA’s activities through the technology already in place.”
“As you wish.” Mustafa nodded, more than happy to stay behind. The less time he spent with Zara the fewer opportunities he would have to anger her. But mostly, he didn’t like going anywhere with Heinrich. The oversized German was capable of handling any situation and was fiercely loyal to Marabout and Zara, but the man frightened him. There was nothing behind his pale blue eyes—no life, no soul, and definitely no love or tolerance for anyone other than his mentor’s children.
“Kamal, Ahmed, and Marabout, you go to Mexico. Heinrich, Reza, and I are heading to the island of Bimini in the Bahamas. I hear the diving is excellent there,” Zara said as she grabbed a stack of passports and dealt them out to her team like a hand of poker.
“Do you think it’s wise to split up now that international authorities are aware of our activities?” Marabout asked.
Zara worried about her younger brother. She loved him, but he lacked the conviction she and her father possessed. Their father dedicated his life to ridding his government of problems, but Marabout clearly didn’t possess the fortitude for the kind of sacrifices those types of tasks often required. The older man had loved his son, despite his weakness, and had made Zara promise to protect her younger brother. Even though she believed Marabout feared her more than he cared for her, she took seriously the vow she had made to her beloved father on his deathbed and would carry out the wishes of the only man who had ever truly loved her.
“We no longer have a choice. If they are looking for the remaining relics, we must find them first. I’ve given you the easiest to acquire. The item we seek is reportedly held in the private possession of a family in Mexico, so I doubt you’ll face too much security. Even you, Marabout, should have no problem with this assignment. Just take the crystal and return here as soon as possible. Hopefully by then, Mustafa will have located the rest.”
Zara returned to her room and locked the door. She removed the Egyptian head from its box once again and held the item lovingly. She hated to leave her treasures and hoped she could trust Mustafa to guard him and the seven others. Each artifact displayed a unique beauty and allure, but she had no doubt they possessed the most potential and significance once reunited. She would stop at nothing until she amassed all the relics and unleashed their power.
Her mind ran through Mustafa’s story of the lost continent. She pulled out her world map, spread it flat across her bed, and focused on the island geography of the Caribbean. His findings made sense. Everything he had discovered so far supported his theory. The closer they got to being able to test his ideas, the more she wondered if she could give the relics up. Zara gazed at the beautiful object in her hands and marveled at its power. The crystal’s hold over her heart unsettled her and she fought the desire to flee with the magnificent artifacts.
Zara forced herself to lock up the Egyptian head and focus on the task at hand. To her, more was at stake than the relics. Ever since Mustafa learned Cash Luker led the international team tasked with destroying her plan, life had gotten just a little more interesting.
Knowing Cash intimately, she felt certain of his next move. He was an ex-Navy Seal, as much at home in the water as out, so she had no doubt he would head straight to the Bahamas. She relished the opportunity to see the expression on his face, and the fear in his eyes, when he found himself face-to-face with a ghost from his past, right before she gutted him like a record marlin.
CHAPTER SEVEN
September 24, 7:00 P.M.
Sedona, Arizona
CASH WAS SURPRISED by the modern three-bedroom house Olivia Begay called home and taken aback by the stunning woman who opened the door and invited them inside. By the way Diane had portrayed her sister, he had half expected Olivia to be dressed in a feather headdress and a 1960’s tie-died halter top, wearing moccasins, and living in a cave dwelling overlooking the Arizona desert.
“I’ve been expecting you. You must be Cash,” Olivia said as she extended a slender hand in his direction. “My sister’s description didn’t do you justice.”
“Nor you,” he replied as he grasped her warm hand and admired all the rings on her delicate fingers. “I pictured more of a Jerry Garcia meets Pocahontas look.”
The shove in his back from Diane drew Cash’s gaze away from Olivia and reminded him of his colleagues standing behind him. He flinched as Diane slugged his arm, pushed by him, and made herself comfortable in her sister’s home.
“Let’s get after it,” Diane ordered.
“Would anyone like something to eat or drink before we begin?” Olivia asked.
“We ate on the plane. We’ve got work to do. Most of the world doesn’t have time to sit around sipping tea and meditating. We need to learn everything you know about the legends surrounding the crystal heads or skulls, or whatever you people call them.”
Cash flinched, expecting a sisterly cat-fight to erupt, but rather than being pulled in by Diane’s condescending words, Olivia smiled as she ushered the rest of the group into the living room and motioned for everyone to sit.
“The relics of legend have many names, depending on who’s telling the story. More modern versions, including the Navajo version, refer to them as skulls. I tend to think of them as heads, since a true skull is hollow, and to my knowledge, these objects are solid crystal. Also, the term skull indicates something once-living, and even though some of the relics resemble humans, most have a much more mythical quality about them and are quite fanciful,” Olivia replied.
Diane rolled her eyes and grunted.
Cash couldn’t suppress his laughter. “I thought you reserved all your charm for me, but apparently you have plenty to go around.”
Diane shot him a cold glare and returned her attention to her sister. The gracious smile Olivia offered so freely, and all her effortless hospitality, grated her nerves. She always resented that her sister was taller, slimmer, and had glorious almond-shaped eyes. Diane took after their fathersturdy, dependable, and bordering on plain looking. Olivia was their mother’s daughterfrom her beauty and grace right down to an enviable carefree spirit. And no matter how hard she tried to dislike all of Olivia’s traits, she loved her. What infuriated Diane was the certainty that Olivia was aware of how much she cared.
“Are you sure I can’t get anyone anything?” Olivia asked, bringing Diane’s focus back to the present.
“I bet we’d all appreciate something to drink. It was a long flight, and I imagine you have a lengthy t
ale to share with us,” Cash replied as he followed Olivia into the kitchen.
Cash watched as Olivia stretched to reach glasses on the top shelf of the cupboard. He thought about lending his 6’2” height to the task, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the shimmering dark hair hanging straight down her slim back to her waist, or all the rest of her perfectly proportioned attributes framed in front of him.
“Well, Diane was accurate about one of your habits at least,” Olivia said as she turned to face him with a knowing smile.
“Sorry, couldn’t help but admire the view, and I’m still having a hard time believing you two are sisters.”
“We’re more alike than most people realize. We both study history, her in college, me at the tribal level. We inherited Mother’s creative imagination and free spirit. Diane hides hers behind books and law, whereas I express mine openly. She likes to think I’m soft and not ambitious by the lifestyle I’ve chosen. I just approach problems from a different perspective and seek answers in less obvious places. Papa always used to say when we learned to complement rather than oppose each other we would be a force to reckon with. I guess that hasn’t happened yet, but I have faith it will soon.”
Cash mulled over Olivia’s assessment of Diane as he followed her back into the living room carrying a tray full of glasses. He failed to see how the two women were anything alike. Diane was moody and explosive and constantly tormenting him in a kid-brother kind of way, whereas he doubted anything could ruffle cool, collected Olivia’s feathers, though he couldn’t help fantasizing about ways to try.