by Kim McMahill
CHAPTER TEN
September 25, 11:00 A.M.
En route to Florida
PETE RECLINED IN his seat on the CIA’s jet and logged into the secure line. Long legs stretched out in the ample space between the custom leather seats, he fished his small oval glasses from his front shirt pocket and focused on the illuminated screen of his tablet.
He opened the red-flagged message from his colleague back at the office, hoping she had finished acquiring and analyzing the data Marjorie forwarded. His assistant reported she had gathered everything she could locate regarding the chemical and physical properties of the crystals, and compiled the information in the attached report. She also explained a theory she wanted to explore as soon as they retrieved a relic.
“Anything new?” Ian asked from the seat across the aisle.
“Nothing helpful. I think we’ll need a bit of luck to find anything. My assistant has an idea to test, but needs an actual crystal.”
“Well, hopefully Olivia is as knowledgeable as Diane claims and we’ll be able to recover one soon for your colleague to analyze. I’ve reserved a rental car at the airport. We’ll drive to the pier where I’ve arranged for a boat and dive gear for our mission to Bimini. Under different circumstances, I’d be looking forward to this outing. I haven’t dived in years, but used to really enjoy the activity. We’ll be landing in less than an hour, so I’ll leave you to whatever you’re doing and check in with Vauxhall Cross.”
This was Pete’s first experience working in the field and his only collaboration with a foreign agency. Ian appeared to be a nice guy, so he wasn’t sure why Cash and the other veteran agents always grumbled about having to join forces with international counterparts. Pete enjoyed Ian’s clipped accent, dry sense of humor, and quick wit. The British agent wasn’t what he had expected, and so far he liked the way they worked together. Pete tended to be analytical and Ian more tactical, logical, and detail oriented. Pete hadn’t even thought to prearrange logistics once they had landed. Thankfully, Ian had, and they could hit the ground running.
Pete tapped on the screen, opening the report, and scanned the information. He found the electromagnetic properties of the crystal intriguing. According to the narrative, the objects tested were constructed of piezoelectric silicon dioxide which, like a battery, has a positive and negative polarity. Applying the right amount of mechanical stress or pressure could generate voltage. The data confirmed the relics analyzed were of the same quality crystal used in modern electronics and computer chips for storing data and were constructed of similar natural occurring quartz. As Marjorie had mentioned, no concrete evidence confirmed the age or artisans of the artifacts since crystal doesn’t decay or age, making dating the material impossible.
He printed off the document and handed it to Ian, who quickly perused the printout. He waited until Ian finished before interrupting.
“When I think of the data stored on a computer chip, it’s mind-boggling to imagine how much information could be stored on a chunk of crystal the size of a human head. When Diane mentioned that the legend claims the relics are an immense source of knowledge, I assumed the tale meant symbolically, but what if it means literally? We’d be looking at the mother of all microchips,” Pete stated.
Ian reread the report, his brow furrowed. “I’m ex-military, not a scientist, so most of this sounds like gibberish. I’m with you on the one thing that jumps out at a person, the data storage capacity. The potential is beyond comprehension.”
“Under all the fancy terminology, the document contains pretty straight forward stuff. Nothing indicates the skulls possess properties unlike any high-quality naturally occurring quartz,” Pete replied as Ian continued to reread the report.
A beep coming from Pete’s tablet made Ian look up. “Hope that’s good news.”
Pete scanned the message, hoping it held some new information to pinpoint where they were supposed to investigate. Without help, their search-grid was immense, and they might even be way off the mark. Pete’s forehead wrinkled
“Not an encouraging look,” Ian stated.
“I had one of my tech buddies tap into and monitor Olivia’s computer because, well, that’s just what we do. After we left, she spent time in an ancient legends chat room and then sent a message to a ‘Sultan of Rum’ inquiring about the location of the thirteenth crystal,” Pete relayed.
“What’s so odd? She promised to try and locate the last two.”
“Based on her screen name of ‘Desert Blaze’ we verified she’s been digging into this topic for a long time. Why didn’t she mention that to us? And, why isn’t she looking for number twelve? Everything she told us is on the Internet, so she didn’t reveal anything we couldn’t have found out on our own with a little digging. What she didn’t tell us, and what she must already know, is the location of the twelfth skull.”
“I assume your people will keep monitoring her in case she gets a response? Though, I can’t help but wonder how reliable info from the ‘Sultan of Rum’ would be,” Ian grinned. “Do you think we should put a tail on her or send over a piña colada?”
Pete glanced at Ian, worry etched on his face. “I’ll put in a request, but if Diane finds out I’m tapping her sister’s computer and phone lines and having her tailed, I hope you’ll come to my funeral. In the meantime, I’d better see if I can reach Cash on his cell and fill him in, and get his okay to order the additional surveillance.”
Ian laughed, but suspected Pete wasn’t joking. He’d only known Diane for two days and he certainly didn’t want to cross her. Despite her size, he had no doubt she would be as formidable of a foe in a fight as his own sister had been growing up.
“What’s so funny?” Pete asked.
“Just picturing you and Diane coming to blows and it didn’t look too bloody good for you, mate. I wouldn’t want to get between you two.”
“Thanks. Nice to know where you’ll stand if she finds out.”
“I’ll be in the far corner.”
Pete shook his head and smiled as he punched in Cash’s number, praying Diane wouldn’t overhear their conversation.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
September 25, 3:00 P.M.
Mexico City, Mexico
CASH WANTED TO question Pete more about Olivia, but Diane sat across from him at the small table, glaring. He glanced at his watch and cursed their contact—already twenty minutes late. He authorized Pete to order the extra surveillance and hung up the phone. He refused to believe Olivia was anything other than a kind, beautiful, honest woman. The tail would verify his initial assessment of her, but more importantly, she would have protection, which eased some of the anxiety he had felt on the airplane about her safety.
“Where in the heck is this professor?” Cash asked, irritation lacing his voice.
“We’re in Mexico. Chill out. He’ll be here. So what’d Pete want?”
“He and Ian are still in the air. He gave me a brief overview of what the science branch found when they assembled and poured over the data of the earlier testing. They developed a theory they want to try out as soon as we obtain a crystal. They were also able to correlate the number symbols or glyphs from the Mayan head-variant numbering system with the documented and photographed heads. I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, but maybe it’ll make sense to Marjorie when we talk. I guess having an archeologist on board might have some benefit after all.”
Cash took a sip of his warm soda and stared at Diane through his dark glasses. No matter how much she criticized her sister, he knew when push came to shove, she would be one hundred percent loyal to her family. Loyalty was one of the assets he admired most in her. Any questioning of Olivia’s integrity would set Diane’s hackles up, but he had a job to do, so she’d have to get over it.
“Do you think Olivia told us everything?”
“Of course. Why do you ask? What did Pete say to you? I’ll tan his scrawny hide if he said anything bad about my sister.”
“Whoa. I just a
sked because you know her better than anyone and might be able to detect it if she was holding back information. We’ve confirmed everything she told us from the Internet. She gave us nothing we couldn’t have found on our own. If she has an idea where the twelfth and thirteenth heads are located, she might think they would be safer if we didn’t find them.”
Diane mulled it over and she could picture her idealistic sister thinking she knew what was best. “We were perfectly clear on the importance of keeping the relics out of the wrong hands, but Olivia can be naïve about the evils lurking out in the world. Sometimes I find that trait refreshing. Most of the time, I want to shake her and tell her to wake up and get real.”
Cash smiled, which only seemed to make Diane angrier. “Yes, I must agree, your sister is a breath of fresh air, and I, too, would like to get my hands on her.”
Diane gritted her teeth and refused to give Cash the satisfaction of taking the bait. “I doubt she left anything out, but if she did, I’ll beat the tar out of her until she talks.”
“That’ll encourage her to cooperate,” Cash mumbled under his breath as a short man matching Diane’s description of Professor Sanchez approached the table.
“Sorry I’m late,” Sanchez said, glancing nervously over his shoulder before taking a seat. “After what you told me about the museum break-ins, I’ve been very afraid.”
Cash glared at Diane—she knew better than to discuss the thefts with anyone outside their small circle.
“I didn’t tell him anything,” she defended as if reading his mind.
“No. I thought it was you,” the professor replied, looking curiously at Cash. “The man who called identified himself as Ms. Espinoza’s partner, and he said we didn’t need to meet, that I could just give him the location of the artifact we discussed earlier over the phone. I said no and told him we would meet here as planned.”
Cash’s eyes darted through the crowd. The sidewalks were clearing of people as siesta time drew nearer, but too many still roamed the square to single out anyone.
“What phone did you call from?” he demanded of Diane as he grabbed the professor’s arm and pulled him to his feet.
“My cell. I took it outside to the front porch, so no one, not even my sister could have overheard. And, if she did, who would she tell?”
Diane followed Cash’s lead out of the plaza. She curled her fingers over the butt of her gun stowed under the tail of her shirt, keeping the weapon out of sight to the degree possible. She was furious at his insinuation her sister might not be trustworthy, but she’d have to deal with him and that weasel, Pete, later.
“I’m not saying she told anyone anything. I’m just thinking we’re not the only ones who would consider her knowledgeable about ancient legendsit’s what she does. According to Pete, she’s been corresponding with someone on the subject for over a year.”
“I knew that little piss-ant said something to you about Olivia,” Diane hissed.
“Forget Pete for a moment and focus.”
Diane put her anger aside and followed Cash through the side streets until they reached their rental car. She couldn’t detect anyone following them, though it was difficult to be sure at the pace Cash moved, and by the throngs of people still occupying the area.
Cash got behind the wheel of the beat-up coup and sighed. By the condition of the car, he figured he could travel faster on foot. “Which way do I go? As long as one of those cursed crystals resides in Mexico and someone thinks you have information on its location, your life isn’t worth a peso. No games, just tell us where it is.”
Cash followed the professor’s directions, weaving in and out of traffic on the crowded streets. He hated all the round-abouts so common south of the border. Getting through was like playing a game of chicken, and today he didn’t have time to be polite. Navigating half a dozen of the frenzied circular intersections to a cacophony of honking horns, the traffic finally began to thin. He gunned the little car’s sluggish motor, running the last red light on the outskirts of the city. Pushing the gas pedal to the floor, he passed car after car, and they soon left the pollution of Mexico City behind.
“I don’t know exactly where the artifact is. Rumors claim a family southeast of Mexico City has possessed one for many generations. I contacted a woman named Señorita Ruiz, and she agreed to meet with you, but refused to give me any definitive information over the phone. I’m taking you to the estate. I doubt she will just hand over the family heirloom, even if it is kept at their hacienda. I understand she is very possessive of the item and quite eccentric.”
“She’ll give it to us if she wants to live,” Cash grumbled.
After almost an hour in silence on a gradually deteriorating road, the professor instructed Cash to take the next right. The dirt track degraded further, until the car shuddered under a continuous stream of potholes and wash-boards. Dust billowed behind them as Cash sped toward the walled hacienda in the distance.
When they reached the compound, Professor Sanchez identified himself, and an armed guard opened the wrought-iron gate and let them through. Cash assumed they were dealing with a wealthy family by the size of the hacienda, the guards employed, and the tall wall embedded with broken glass along its top. That fact blew his civilized plan of trying to buy the relic from the family out the window.
An elegant older woman greeted them at the door, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, and its once black color highlighted with wisps of gray. Her English was perfect, making Cash deduce she had probably been educated outside the country, or at least at a private school. His eyes scanned the magnificent oil paintings on the walls as they followed her into a lavishly furnished sitting room. She sent the maid for iced tea and cookies and waved them toward the faded Victorian-era sofa.
“Please, be seated. I am Señorita Ruiz. Professor Sanchez contacted me and said you would like to meet Juan Pablo.”
Cash and Diane exchanged confused looks.
The older woman laughed. “I’m sorry. That is what we call him. My great-great-grandfather, Juan Pablo, allegedly ‘accepted’ the relic from the then leader of Mexico. He became obsessed with the unusual object. He left the family home inside Mexico City and built this estate out here to hide from those he was convinced wanted to steal his most prized possession. He had the case constructed for the magnificent work of art and hired guards to protect the hacienda. Family lore claims he became so obsessed with his treasure, it drove him insane. He quit eating and drinking, which eventually cost him his life. For the next generation, the family kept the relic safe and out of view, and deeply embarrassed by Juan Pablo’s behavior, we denied even having the artifact. My father wasn’t as concerned as my grandfather about what people thought, so he put the family heirloom back on display in the house and dubbed him Juan Pablo.”
Cash stood and strode over to the glass case in a dark corner of the room. Deeply carved eye sockets that held a brilliant blue hue gazed back at him, and its tongue appeared to be licking its cheek. Cash couldn’t take his eyes off the compelling piece of art, not because of its beauty, but the object seemed to hold a curious power over him, following his movements, daring him to come closer.
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Very. Why keep it in the dark?” Cash asked.
“Juan Pablo behaves in an unusual way in the presence of light. According to a story passed down through my family, the leader of Mexico acquired the relic when the previous owner decided it was cursed. The common belief is that the crystal captures light, transforms the energy into beams of fire, and spews forth enough heat from its mouth and eyes to ignite anything in its path. I haven’t tested this claim, but to be on the safe side, we’ve always kept him in dim light.”
Cash remembered Marjorie’s report on how laser-like beams shot out the eye sockets of the Egyptian head, igniting a nearby tent canopy. That reaction had occurred as a result of a high-powered flashlight beam held to the back of the object, so he imagined something pretty spectacular happen
ing if the sculpture was exposed to direct sunlight.
As he studied this woman, he surmised she wasn’t easily intimidated. How would he convince her it was in her best interest to turn the relic over to a couple of strangers from the United States government? She stood next to him, gazing adoringly at the artifact. He found it a bit unsettling when she called the item by name and ran her fingers lovingly over the glass case. Despite her stately, but family effacing front, Cash sensed she was as obsessed as her great-great-grandfather had been with the heirloom entrusted to her care and took her responsibility seriously.
Diane stepped forward and placed a hand on the old woman’s shoulder. Several moments elapsed before the señorita pulled her gaze away from Juan Pablo and acknowledged Diane’s presence.
“Have you ever married?” Diane asked.
Cash sensed he and Diane were getting the same vibes, so he stepped back, realizing the situation was probably best handled by another woman.
“Oh, heavens no. I have to take care of Juan Pablo. Men are not nurturers, none would understand the devotion.”
Diane shook her head sympathetically and led Señorita Ruiz away from the case. She eased the old woman onto the sofa and spoke in a calm, sincere tone. “We’ve come because we believe you and Juan Pablo are in great danger.”
Her head shot up, fear glistening in her eyes. “Not Juan Pablo. Great-great-grandfather swore everyone wanted him and would stop at nothing to take him from us. Juan Pablo will never leave this room. Like Great-great-grandfather did, I will protect him with my life. Get out immediately, or I’ll call the guards.”