The Mayan Priest

by Guillou, Sue

  A grey sedan was not far behind.

  ‘How’s your driving skills?’ asked Dale, concerned his life was in the hands of a boy barely eighteen years of age.

  Sean grinned and seemed more animated than any other time. He was clearly in his element and forced the Toyota into a speed at which it seemed incapable of moving.

  Dale shrank down into his seat and groped for the panic handles but was unable to locate anything of assistance. He was not enjoying himself in the slightest.

  With finely tuned skills, Sean fed the car between the oncoming traffic and a number of parked cars. The pursuer did not fare so well and collided with a street sign and the open door of a Jeep allowing Sean to gain some well-earned ground.

  Dale began to relax. This kid was good. Better than he would have been.

  Sean accelerated along an open road, careened through a roundabout and spun into the lane between a petrol station and a car wash. The road led through an industrial park and out into a large, open car space allowing Sean to pull in between two large parked garbage trucks. This effectively concealed the vehicle from passing traffic. The small Toyota looked like the meat in a sandwich, but it served its purpose and the pursuer tore straight past them.

  ‘Bloody hell. Where did you learn to drive like that?’ asked Dale in shock.

  ‘My parents brought me up well, respecting the law and all, but on occasion we were so desperate for money that something needed to be done. I stole a couple of cars to get us by. My parents didn’t know. They thought I was working, but I could not earn in a year what one car gave me.’

  Sean did not look Dale in the eye.

  Normally Dale would have a criminal arrested without remorse, but Sean’s illegal skills had saved his life. He had no right to judge this boy for his past actions, particularly not now.

  ‘It’s okay. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.’ Dale had a few he cared not to remember. ‘But we have to move. Arun knows we’re here and will do his best to hide any evidence of his dealings.’

  ‘Drugs … so, this is about drugs? I suppose it makes sense. Why else would we be running for our lives?’

  Dale could not tell if Sean was being sarcastic.

  ‘My GPS tells us that the home of Rossler Townsend is only a block from here,’ said Dale as he clambered from the car and waited momentarily for Sean.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Sean eagerly as they proceeded cautiously along the street, ensuring they retained cover in as many doorways as possible, arriving quickly at a pastel yellow two storey abode.

  All looked quiet.

  ‘I vote that we go inside and see what we can find,’ said Sean as he waltzed brazenly up to the front door, exhibiting the inexperience and carefree attitude of youth.

  Dale called for him to get away. He had studied the building, noting that the curtains were hastily drawn, but the tabby cat was busy eating a fresh meal from the blue bowl on the front step. A faint reflection on the side fence also revealed that a light in the upper floor was on.

  He instinctively knew something was not right, but Sean had already opened the door only to find himself face to face with a fully loaded pistol. He quickly judged the situation, easily determining that the distance between himself and the gunman was too far for him to intercede. His only problem: inaction would surely spell Sean’s death. He did the only thing he could do.

  Dale dived between Sean and the gunman at the same time that the man fired directly at Sean’s temple. Impacting with his waist, Dale was too late to stop the bullet from hitting Sean, but he did manage to force the boy in the opposite direction. The bullet missed the target, striking the soft flesh just below his shoulderblade.

  Sean groaned in agony as the killer re-aimed his gun at Dale, but Dale had already rolled forwards and grabbed the assassin by his ankles. He had easily recognised the large, dark-skinned man with a formidable physique and long brown hair as the person who had been chasing them. But how had he known their destination? The only answer that made sense was that this man was Rossler Townsend and this was his home.

  Dale yanked at the man’s feet, bracing himself as Rossler fell backwards, hitting his head on the doorjamb at the top of the stairs. Unfortunately this did nothing to deter him. As Dale tried to swivel him around and wrestle the gun from his grasp, he elbowed Dale in his upper chest.

  Dale gasped from the loss of air and the speed of his opponent’s actions. He was not prepared and not nearly robust enough to beat him at his own game. He had to be smarter … but how?

  Rossler struggled to his feet, but just as he was regaining his balance, Dale hurdled himself onto his back. Rossler spun around but clung to him like a spider, collecting the porcelain bust on the pedestal in the hallway with his back. It went flying and shattered against the pale blue wall, causing plaster dust to burst into the air.

  Rossler coughed, the temporary distraction giving Dale the moment he needed.

  With added determination, Dale caught him off guard, grabbing him and flinging him backwards in an attempt to throw him to the ground. Unfortunately Rossler was well prepared, turning the move to his advantage and spinning a full 180 degrees before dropping onto Dale and pinning him between his overly large arms.

  Rossler grinned. He had the upper hand and reached sideways to grab the gun that lay on the black and white tiled floor. Dale had no time to contemplate his actions – doing what he always classed as devious and unmanly. He kneed Rossler in the balls.

  Rossler howled in agony but still managed to grasp the gun and aim it in Dale‘s general direction. It was wildly off target and pierced the tiles behind him.

  With opportunities slipping by, Dale tried to stand. In stark contrast, Rossler shook off his pain as if it was no more than a nuisance and slammed his fist into Dale’s jaw. Dale howled in agony as the iron-like punch left him reeling and disorientated. He gathered his energy and retaliated with as much force as he could muster, punching Rossler in the stomach.

  Rossler groaned but he was not deterred. He charged at Dale like a bull possessed, leaving no viable way out. Dale considered his options and noted that the only alternative was the stairs.

  He ran and Rossler followed.

  Dale waited until the opportune moment and spun around, allowing his movement to take Rossler by surprise. The pursuer became the pursued as Dale ducked and rammed him body full force into Rossler’s legs. This forced him to tumble backwards and accidentally discharge his gun into the ornamental entry chandelier.

  With seconds to spare, Dale leapt to avoid the shards of glass, but the men collided and Rossler regained control. ‘Get up.’ Rossler held the gun to Dale’s temple. ‘You’re a bloody pain in the arse. Michael warned me about you and I regret not shooting you on sight. I’m only thankful that you’re weaker and more ignorant of your surroundings than I expected.’ Rossler’s smile was smug and conceited.

  Dale was cornered but not defeated, spurred on by the sight of Sean crawling up the steps to the front entrance. Logic had told him that a shoulder wound was not life threatening, but he did not know for sure. He was suddenly relieved when he recognised the look of determination in the young man’s eyes.

  Sean was coming to save him and all he had to do was distract Rossler for long enough to give him time. Dale had to occupy him.

  ‘Michael … Michael Brewner?’ queried Dale.

  ‘Yeah, the one and only. Arun’s top man. He has been following you since you entered Richard Deinhart’s home and took that first clue from his basement. Initially Arun was only interested in seeing what you had to offer, but when you separated from your daughter, you forced his hand. He employed Michael to trail you and his son Samuel to shadow Gillian. You were a fucking pain and Arun instructed us to kill you at the first opportunity, but your daughter proved to be a wonderful asset. Her puzzle solving skills are so extraordinary that Arun took the opportunity to let her do all the work for him. He has great plans for her when this is over.’

  Dale sna
rled, ‘Believe me, there is no way he’ll get his hands on my daughter, if I have anything to do with it.’

  Rossler tutted and waved his fingers. ‘I would have thought that you had learnt your lesson by now. Interference only gets your friends and family killed.’

  Dale was suddenly worried. ‘What was he talking about?’

  ‘For one thing, we took great joy in cutting the hands, feet and head off your friend, Antony Larrami.’

  Dale gasped with disbelief as Rossler’s grin widened with a malevolent joy at the sight of Dale’s horror.

  Dale swallowed in guilt. He should have known better. When he was first asked by the government to undertake this task, he was warned not to involve anyone else, but he had failed to take heed. He had become careless and Antony had paid for it with his life.

  ‘Now it’s your turn,’ laughed Rossler as he rubbed the gun over Dale’s stomach before sliding it slowly and purposefully up to his temple.

  Dale shivered

  ‘It’s a pity you’re so old. You would have been a formidable foe in your youth, but now you’re no more than a waste of space,’ and with that, Rossler cocked his gun just as Sean slammed the remainder of the porcelain bust down on Rossler’s head, creating a massive concave in his skull and a spray of blood as the body collapsed in a crumpled heap.

  Sean sank to the ground in exhaustion and incredulity. ‘I can’t believe I actually killed a man.’

  ‘And I’m thankful you did. You saved my life for the second time in as many days. I think I owe you a promotion even before I’ve given you a job.’

  Sean tried to smile but winced in pain as Dale assisted him to the kitchen, placed his phone on the bench and grabbed a clean cloth.

  ‘Press this against the wound. It should stem the flow of blood until we can get you to a hospital,’ said Dale, ‘but for the moment, I need you to sit still. I have one more thing to do before we leave.’

  Dale raced up the stairs. He needed to find something on Arun or this whole trip would have been a waste. With time at a premium, he avoided the obvious rooms like the living and sitting rooms, going with experience and heading straight for the bedroom. As a general rule, people hid things of value in the spots they perceived as being original and secure without realising just how predictable they actually were. Shoe boxes, underneath the bottom drawer of a dresser and the top of a cupboard were typical spots and true to form, Dale quickly located a taped package below a bedside table.

  Tucking the small parcel under his armpit, Dale ran back to the top of the stairwell. He could hear voices from outside the front door and whilst they were not an immediate threat, the quicker they got out of the building the better. It would be a matter of time before someone discovered Rossler’s body and he did not want to be here when they did.

  Dale hurried back down the stairs, pausing only when he heard the same voices move on down the road, leaving him feeling slightly comforted that the coast was clear. With a renewed surge of energy, he stepped off the final landing and exited left towards the kitchen, only to find that he was face to face with a gun barrel.

  To say that he panicked was almost true in more ways than one, but he quickly regained control, chastising himself for his careless actions and lack of caution. He should have known better.

  During his life, Dale had revelled in being in control, yet here he was, having put both Sean and himself in harm’s way for the third time in two days. Perhaps he was too old. He cringed at the thought of retirement. He was simply not ready.

  Dale collected his thoughts as the two men, both smelling of alcohol and Cuban cigars proceeded to tie a cloth over his eyes. He had not heard Sean’s voice for some time and by the general chatter in their native language, it was evident that they hadn’t either.

  Dale was relieved, but the question remained. Where was he?

  The burden of responsibility fell directly on his shoulders with the boy’s safety paramount. Dale dared not do anything to cause a fuss, intent on leaving the building as quickly as possible.

  The gun to his head greatly assisted his decision and was a constant reminder of his mortality, so Dale did the only thing he could do: he stepped forward and pretended to lose his balance. If he remembered rightly, there was a hall table with a low shelf. He dropped the package, still firmly wedged under his arms, onto the floor and used his body to conceal his actions as he kicked it underneath the ledge.

  God help him if Sean did not find it.

  ‘Get up!’ the man yelled, kicking him sharply in the ribs.

  Dale almost passed out in pain, the fear of which forced him to stay conscious and focus his attention on the plan ahead. He had no option but to stay alive if he was going to be of any help, but somehow he felt that he was the one who was going to need saving.

  ***

  Ten minutes had passed since Sean felt safe enough to move from his hiding spot between the fridge and the cupboard. He was devastated and totally alone. What had he got himself into? His visions of a grand adventure, saving the world and becoming famous enough to buy a house for his family had evaporated into a wisp of smoke. He was terrified and he suddenly found himself wishing he was that little boy again, tucked up safely in his mother’s arms.

  A couple of tears rolled uninhibited down his cheeks as he moved to wipe them away, forgetting momentarily that he had a wound in his shoulder. The pain was excruciating, but he tried to fight his way through it, drawing on his father’s faith in him to gain concentration. He could envisage his father’s firm but kind support and encouragement, his insistence that determination and strength got you everywhere in life and weakness was a mere by-product that was not accepted.

  Sean felt his body begin to relax and tension slowly disappear until he was able to regain control of his emotions. He took a deep breath and rose to his feet when the phone on the bench began to ring.

  Sean jumped in shock, his heart racing out of control for the second in as many minutes, only this time he reacted promptly. The mobile belonged to Dale and it was important that he not miss it.

  ‘Dale! Hello, Dale!’ called the voice.

  ‘Hello,’ responded Sean timidly and with hesitation.

  ‘You’re not Dale. Can you put him on the phone please.’

  Sean considered his options. He did not know this man and releasing any information about their mission could put the whole thing in jeopardy, but then there was the obvious. Dale had been kidnapped and they needed help urgently.

  ‘My name is Sean. Dale has been kidnapped.’

  The voice on the other end failed to respond immediately.

  ‘How do I know that you’re not lying. How do I know that you are not the kidnapper?’

  ‘I’m not,’ stuttered Sean. This was not going well and he desperately needed to convince the man he was telling the truth.

  ‘Dale and I have just killed a man by the name of Rossler Townsend and I’m still in his home. We were on a mission to discover information on a man by the name of Arun … I don’t know his surname,’ stuttered Sean uneasily.

  The voice on the other end softened somewhat. ’What’s your name, boy?’

  ‘Sean,’ replied Sean.

  ‘Hmmm … Dale told me about you. He said you’re a bright boy who can be trusted. Okay, Sean. Are you on your own?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘All right. What I need you to do is to go to the front door and make sure its locked. We need to try and secure the building to give you the best possible chance of getting out alive. I want you to do it now whilst I wait on the phone.’

  Sean’s heart was pounding against his rib cage as he hurried to do the man’s bidding. On the way back he looked down to safely navigate a patch of blood when something caught his eye. It was a small package that had been pushed under the side table. Sean was surprised as it had not been there earlier.

  He picked it up and went to get the phone.

  ‘I’ve done that, but I’ve also found something else.’

>   ‘That’s good, Sean … what is it?’

  Sean opened the clear plastic bag and unfolded the single A4 page.

  ‘It’s a list of names. I reckon there’s well over two hundred, and some of them I recognise. At the bottom of the page is a name in bold print that says “Tajumulco”.’ Sean then proceeded to read out some of the names.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ said the voice on the other end of the phone. ‘It’s far worse than I had expected.’

  ‘What’s worse?’ asked Sean.

  ‘The infiltration. What you have is a list of people on Arun’s payroll, which puts you in immediate danger. I presume that your continuing existence means that the kidnappers did not see you?’

  ‘Yes … but this Arun fellow had both Dale and I followed.’

  ‘So, it’s only a matter of time before they realise you are not with him and come for you. Are you hurt, Sean?’

  ‘Yes. I was shot in the shoulder.’

  The man went quiet again for a moment.

  ‘Okay, Sean. I’m going to send someone to come and get you. We spent some time in Campeche over the last couple of months and have gained a few trusted emissaries. What I need you to do is go out the back door and down the side alley towards the main road. A man will ride up on a motorbike and look at his wristwatch. That will be your signal to climb on behind him. Whatever you do, do not panic. Walk slowly and confidently regardless of who may be watching. Can you do that for me, Sean?’

  ‘Yes … yes, I can,’ replied Sean.

  ‘Good. Just remember that your life depends on you not panicking. If there are any spies around, they’ll be looking for anything or anyone acting suspiciously.’