by Kim McMahill
After thirty minutes of swimming, a cool sensation brushed across Pete’s body. He stilled and looked around. The color of the sea to his right seemed to lighten, and as he made his way in that direction, it definitely cooled. He eased toward the lighter cooler water. After several minutes of drifting, the temperature began to rise and the murkiness returned.
He backtracked until he found the spot where the water was the coolest and clearest and turned his body to face shoreward. The mangrove’s density thinned in the area of the cooler water. As Pete kicked, a faint current pushed against him. He stopped, scanned the immediate vicinity, and keyed his mike.
“Ian, can you read me?”
Pete waited for several seconds and received no answer. He repeated his question and still no reply. Underwater communications often proved unreliable, but he had a nagging sensation the problem stemmed from something more sinister than technical difficulties.
He extinguished his light and swam out to deeper water as he angled toward the surface. Pete’s head cleared the water. He spit out his regulator and gulped in fresh air, surprised by the overwhelming sense of relief. Taking off his mask, he gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the moon and stars. He slowly rotated his body 360-degrees, gathering his bearings. The island and a scattering of faint lights from Alice Town greeted him. A massive fin surfaced not far away, but kept moving. Pete remained still and held his breath until the danger passed.
In the distance, a large item bobbed in the gentle waves, dimly illuminated by the moon. A sinking awareness overcame Pete. He hated to give away his position, but he needed to know the object’s identity. Pete took a deep breath and flipped on his flashlight in the direction of the floating mass. The second his eyes recognized the shape, he killed the light, but it was too late.
The sound of engines roared to life and bright beams of light shot out from behind his and Ian’s destroyed boat. He registered nothing else before he secured his mask and dove.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
September 25, 7:00 P.M.
Southeast of Mexico City, Mexico
DEBRIS RAINED DOWN on Cash, shredding the back of his light cotton shirt into bloody strips of hanging threads. The force of his diving belly flop onto the tiled hallway while shielding the artifact in his hands forced all the air out of his lungs. Fine powder from the crumbling adobe and stucco walls dusted him like a thick blanket of winter snow, making him none too anxious to gasp for a much-needed breath.
He hoped Diane had gotten Señorita Ruiz and Professor Sanchez far enough away from the blast to protect them, but he couldn’t worry about them now. He’d lost the position of the shooters, and he held the very item they sought.
Cash lifted his head and detected no motion through the settling dust. The arched opening leading into the sitting room had totally collapsed, making reentry impossible, without considerable work. He ripped the remaining fragments of his shirt off his body and wrapped the relic to shield the object from light, even though the sun outside was beginning to set. He scanned the area until he located his gun, which had flown from his waistband during his dive from the collapsing room. Retrieving his weapon, he crept toward the house’s exit.
The door was ajar, allowing him to inspect the courtyard without setting down the crystal or his gun. Two men, who he assumed were Señorita Ruiz’s guards, lay face down in the dust. The beat-up rental car hadn’t moved. Disappointed Diane hadn’t escaped the hacienda yet, he was torn between creeping back into the house and searching for her and her two charges, and putting as much distance as possible between the shooters and the relic. The thought of capturing a gunman and keeping him alive long enough to find out who was behind all the devastation tipped the scales.
“I can’t just leave. What if Diane’s in trouble?”
A large hand-painted pottery urn stood in a dark corner of the entryway. He carefully lifted the lid and set the artifact inside. He hated to turn his back on Juan Pablo, but he forced the haunting eyes out of his mind and focused on the destruction ahead. Not only had the door to the sitting room collapsed, but the passageway leading in the direction in which Diane had gone was partially blocked. Picking through the debris, he inched his way down the hall.
It was quiettoo quiet. The only sound was the occasional creak of a timber behind him as more of the house damaged in the blast threatened to collapse.
“Psst.”
Cash reacted to the faint noise, spinning around, gun at the ready. From behind a heavy curtain, Diane eased out, weapon gripped tightly in her fist.
“Where’s Senorita Ruiz and Professor Sanchez?” he whispered.
Diane motioned with the muzzle of her pistol to a rug on the floor. “Hidden passage. Señorita Ruiz said it locks from the inside. I instructed them to stay put until we call Sanchez on his cell and give him the all clear.”
“Good work.”
Cash quickly explained to Diane where he stashed the crystal and told her to retrieve the relic and head for the car. He would cover her from a window, allowing her a chance to get away while leaving him time to smoke out the shooters. At a minimum, her departure should draw the gunmen into the open, exposing the identity of those responsible for this catastrophe, or at least provide him the opportunity to take them out of the game permanently.
She nodded and followed Cash back through the maze of debris. He pointed toward the urn and positioned himself at the window that gave the best view of the courtyard and the car. The plan sucked. But he was more than a competent shot, able to consistently hit a fifty-cent piece at a hundred yards, and this distance would be less. A decent glimpse of a shooter, and he was confident he could hit his mark and keep Diane safe.
“Wait.”
He scanned the entryway until he spotted a small pot about the size of the head. He snatched the cloth from a nearby table, wrapped the item up, and switched bundles with Diane, returning the relic to the urn.
“Great. So you don’t think I’ll reach the car without getting shot and you’d rather lose me than that stupid chunk of glass. You’re forgetting I was captain of my college track team,” she said with mock bravado.
“I don’t doubt you. I just thought it might not be a bad idea to keep a bargaining chip, in case things don’t go as planned, since they seldom do,” he replied as he bent down and kissed her forehead. “Don’t look back, be careful, and run like the wind, Captain.”
Diane knew Cash would never forgive himself if anything happened to her, and he wouldn’t put her in this situation if he had a better idea. She whispered a brief prayer and eased the heavy wooden door open far enough to squeeze through. Bolting out into the courtyard, she covered half the distance to the car before the first shot rang out. Dust flew around her feet as the bullet imbedded inches from her heel.
Cash angled toward the noise and fired, drawing the attention away from Diane. He couldn’t locate his target, but out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Diane grabbing the handle and diving into the vehicle. Expelling a sigh of relief, he focused on the two directions in which the shots originated. He noticed a man running for the car as Diane fired up the engine. The man grabbed at the handle, but she had locked the car.
As Cash ran for the hacienda’s door, he drew a mental picture as to where the other gunman hid. He didn’t want to kill the exposed man. He wanted answers. His best hope was to eliminate the cover shooter and reach the person in the open before he retreated.
His shoulder rammed the heavy door, flinging it open without slowing his momentum. Cash pivoted in the hidden shooter’s direction, catching a glimpse of fabric as the person dove for a concealing statue. Cash ran, firing off rounds until he reached his target. Tackling the man to the ground, Cash quickly pinned and disarmed the small young man.
Cash stood, pulling the struggling guy to his feet. He glanced at the car, wondering why Diane hadn’t peeled out of the courtyard or come to his aid. His heart sank. She sat rod-straight, hands on the dash, knife to her throat.
The knifeman eased Diane out of the vehicle. He stood several inches taller than the one Cash had subdued. Strange green eyes bore into Cash, sending an uncomfortable yet somewhat familiar chill down his spine. The man kept the blade pressed to Diane’s skin and ordered Cash to set down his weapon and let his partner go. Cash hesitated and Green Eyes yanked Diane’s hair back, exposing more of her throat, signaling he was serious.
Cash shoved his captive away, knelt down, and placed his weapon on the dusty ground. The freed man picked up Cash’s gun, then went to the front seat of the car and retrieved Diane’s bundle. He laid it on the vehicle’s hood and carefully unwound the cloth. His eyes narrowed as he spun to face Cash.
“Where is it? Tell me now, or my friend will slit her throat.”
“It’s still inside,” Cash calmly replied.
“Where?”
“If I just tell you, you’ll murder us both. You let her go and I’ll show you. Take it or leave it. If you kill us, you may never find what you’re looking for.”
The two men exchanged looks and spoke in a language Cash recognized from the times he worked in Afghanistan. The two men conversed in too low of tones for him to pick out any words, not that he understood much of the language anyway.
“Okay, she gets in the car and drives away. As soon as she is out of sight, you show us where the relic is, and then we will kill you.”
Cash shrugged. “Well, at least you’re honest terrorists.”
“Cash?”
“Go Diane.”
She didn’t argue. It wouldn’t help, and she had to believe Cash had a plan. One of them free was better than both in captivity. She hadn’t worked with him in the field before, but she was well aware of his reputation for walking away from the most dangerous and seemingly hopeless situations. Behind the mocking glint of his eyes, he possessed a mind honed to perfection by years of experience.
Despite Cash’s near legendary ability to survive any crisis, she studied his tall, strong frame as if it might be her last time setting eyes on him. His bare, bronzed chest glistened with sweat. The only things that marred an otherwise perfect torso were a large number of scars and the dried blood from his narrow escape from the earlier blast. No doubt, he had garnered most of the old wounds on the job, but the marks didn’t detract from his appeal. The scars only reinforced his strength. Her eyes roamed up to his face. He was a handsome man, but he never allowed the knowledge to make him arrogant. To some, he came off cocky. To her, he was the most down-to-earth man she knew, and she treasured their friendship. As she locked on his caring eyes, the fear of losing him on their first assignment together nearly rendered her immobile.
A strong yank on her arm brought Diane back to the situation at hand. She was escorted to the car and shoved in.
“Go before we change our mind.”
Starting the car, Diane drove away. Once out of sight and earshot, she parked the car and killed the motor. She fished around in the crevice where the bottom of the bucket seat met the back, until her fingers found what she had stowed earlier.
When she had first gotten into the car at the hacienda, she set the bundle and her gun on the passenger seat in order to lock the doors and start the engine. As the knife blade slid down her throat, she pushed her gun out of sight. Now retrieved, Diane checked the clip and started back to Cash at a fast-pace, praying she wouldn’t be too late.
“NOW, SHOW US,” Green Eyes demanded.
Cash made his way inside, wondering about the third person. He hoped he had killed him or her, but was wary of a trap. Leading the two men past the large urn, Cash returned to the collapsed doorway of the sitting room and pointed.
“Still in there. I wasn’t able to get it out before the explosion.”
The two men exchanged skeptical looks.
“If you didn’t have the relic, why the decoy?” asked the younger of the two.
“I was hoping my partner could draw you away from here so I’d have time to get back in and recover the artifact.”
They appeared a little more convinced, but still not totally sold on his story, or happy about the fact the crystal wasn’t easily accessible.
“Start clearing,” Green Eyes demanded as he waved Cash’s own gun at him. “You help him,” he ordered his partner.
Cash observed the way the younger man glared at the other, the hatred visible. Division in the ranks of his enemies always gave him hope.
“What makes you think you’re in charge?”
“This is my sister’s operation. You don’t want to cross her, do you?”
Fear eased into the young man’s eyes, and he began removing debris alongside Cash in order to gain access. Cash needed this exercise to buy time to think. Once they realized the crystal wasn’t in the sitting room, they’d be furious. He hated to lose, and the thought of getting shot with his own gun irritated him. He always swore if that ever happened, he’d hang it up, unless of course, he was dead.
Only ten minutes of work and they were able to crawl through the debris to the shattered remnants of the glass case. Cash had banked on stalling longer. And after another five minutes, it was obvious the relic was gone.
“Tell me where you hid the artifact, or I will shoot you with your own gun.”
“No, you won’t. You kill me and my secret dies with me.”
A distant squeak of a rusty hinge made Cash cringe. He tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed, hoping the sound came from more settling as a result of the explosion, and the professor and Señorita Ruiz were staying put as ordered.
The two men conferred for several moments, never taking their eyes off Cash. Both fidgeted with uncertainty, unhappy with the plan. The younger man grabbed a broken timber and swung, the contact with Cash’s shoulder so solid, the momentum sent him stumbling to the floor.
“Now, tell us where the relic is, or we will beat you until you talk.”
Despite the pain, Cash forced a laugh. “Shoot me or pound me senseless with a board, I’m not telling you anything, so let’s call it a day, and go our separate ways.”
Cash sensed his calm confident mocking tone was starting to rattle the two men. It was just a matter of time before they cracked, and he’d make his move. He could be a patient man, when the need arose. There was no doubt in his mind that if he kept needling them, they would turn on each other, but one thing continued to bother him—these guys were not capable of the crimes that had been committed over the artifacts. So who orchestrated the deaths and violent destruction?
“Who are you idiots working for? Anyone I know?”
They glared at Cash, but didn’t answer. He imagined they were now regretting letting Diane go.
“What’s so special about these crystal sculptures anyway? What would make whoever you work for willing to kill innocent children and unarmed villagers?”
Once again, they ignored Cash, and another sound echoed through the ruined room. The two men conferred, and the younger man left. After several minutes, he re-emerged with Professor Sanchez and Señorita Ruiz.
Cash shook his head in disgust. Can no one follow orders? If they had stayed put until we called, they would still be safe. Cash observed the teary-eyed Señorita scan her demolished home.
“Where is Juan Pablo?” she wailed, falling to her knees in front of the destroyed case that once housed her most prized possession.
“That is what this man is about to tell us, or he will watch you both die.”
Señorita Ruiz gaped at Cash with pleading eyes. “You must not turn Juan Pablo over. He is dangerous in the wrong hands.”
The old woman was dragged to her feet, ordered to shut up, and the barrel of the gun placed to her temple.
“You have five seconds to talk.”
“Okay,” Cash realized he’d lostat least for the moment. He couldn’t allow the execution of innocent civilians, especially when he hadn’t hidden the crystal sufficiently. If the house was searched, it would take little effort to find the relic. “What insurance do
I have that you won’t kill them once you obtain the artifact?”
“You have nothing. You abused our goodwill and patience with the last trick. I assure you, though, I have no desire to shoot these old people who have harmed us in no way, but you have killed one of us, and it will be a pleasure to watch you die.”
Both men trained their guns on Cash as they walked out of the sitting room toward the front entrance, leaving the señorita and professor behind. Cash figured he could disarm one, but not before the other pulled the trigger. He needed a new plan.
“No more tricks, or we promise we will go back and kill the old people,” Green Eyes stated.
When they reached the door, Cash’s eyes settled on the urn. He hated being beat, but he was out of ideas.
“In there,” he pointed.
The younger man quickly retrieved the bundle and checked to make sure it wasn’t another decoy. He held the object up for his partner to verify. They nodded their heads in agreement and gazed at the crystal in awe. The brief moment of reverence passed. The item was rewrapped, then they shoved Cash into the courtyard.
“Go get the bike.”
Green Eyes remained silent while he waited for his partner to bring their transportation. As the motorcycle pulled up, he raised his gun to Cash’s head. A distant shot rang out, distracting the gunman long enough for Cash to dive for cover. He rolled behind a hedge and scrambled on hands and knees as bullets shredded the shrubs. The shots continued to get closer and soon the motorbike’s engine roared to life then all went quiet.
Cash dared a peek over the hedge. Diane slunk around the corner of the casa and he called out as he emerged from cover.
Diane ran to him and embraced his bruised and beaten body, holding him until he winced with pain. She eased her grip and they slowly went back inside, beaten down and agonizing over their failure.