by B French
After a short ten minutes of Brian trying to explain the situation, a gentle rap came to the door alerting him of a change in circumstance. Giving Amalia a lasting hug, he cautiously returned to the sitting area of the bar and watched as Doug returned through the front doors without the two thugs; the bellboy peeked from behind the desk and stood tall in response to their absence. Looking through the glass door of the dining hall and noticing Amalia’s absence, Doug did a quick 360 glance around the foyer and came to rest on Amalia as she re-entered the area. She gave Brian a shy smile as she walked arm-in-arm with Doug back to the dining lounge. Within moments, Owen entered from the front and continued to the dining lounge and the remainder of his dinner.
Edmundo, smiling from ear to ear, sat down across from Brian and questioned, “Well?”
The Aguada It was late when Oz, Gizmo and Knobby returned. They looked exhausted and wind-blown, grubby from their two-day trek. They entered in through the back entranceway, away from patrons that frolicked and lazed in the chairs of the colorful, pool area. Thunder echoed as a chopper retreated back to base in the foothills of the mountains a short distance off. In the shadows, they crept unassuming, quietly without a sound, to the rooms that Jackson had provided with multiple, unimpeded access. Once in their rooms, they waited patiently for Ocho, who was aware of their arrival and would return shortly.
Bottles of water were passed freely around as the men unloaded their gear to be cleaned and serviced. Cold beer and food would have to wait until the necessities were taken care of and a plan worked out for the next day. Ocho and Mundie, listened intently while the men gave their reports of the encounters with the loggers and natives that worked in the area, and of the abandoned work stations they searched. The most intriguing, maintenance shack that was positioned not more than five miles west along a gravel service road. Brake lights flashed as a van had retreated through the jungle, and out of sight of the pursuant Gazelle due to the low cloud cover. A close inspection later showed evidence of occupation and some measure of disarray at a quick retreat. They could not be certain, but scuffs in the dirt floor, cut plastic pull-ties and blood stains by a central support post, gave them enough cause to determine that someone had been held here against their will.
Edmundo gave a report of the couple at the San Ignacio Resort, and the implications that the American, and his girlfriend’s involvement conveyed. Ocho had cased and
a fueling and agreed to the Canadian’s plan to follow the two, and report to Edmundo as long as they stayed out of the way of military operations should the situation demand intervention. Edmundo also explained the possibility of a ceremonial service to be held at one of the local archaeological sites close by; most likely Xunantunich. He would do reconnaissance at first light; he would explain the situation to the Canadians.
The cocks crowed before the break of dawn, and the dogs replied in their usual back and forth bantering. Garbage can lids began to open and close as the kitchen staff began their early-morning breakfast routine. Brian’s feet had barely hit the ground before he was rousted out of his second floor room. Steve followed close behind pulling on the remaining boot, unattached laces dangling from each side of vacant, boot-lace eyes.
Out on the deck beside the pool, duffle bags and rifles lay in order, guarded by Gizmo, who yawned and stretched toward the rising sun. Quietly, as the rest of the crew emerged from the shadows, all the paraphernalia was transported to the parking lot and loaded into the vehicles with silent precision. Steve and Brian followed Edmundo as he headed to his blue, pickup truck. Their yellow, subcompact car sat idle at the edge of the lot. A layer of accumulative dust covered its exterior initiated by the traffic of the heavy vehicles.
“Whoa!” came Steve’s cry as he eased the driver’s door open.
The smell of stale beer and cigarettes, wafted out from the interior. Half-full bags of stale chips and nachos littered the back seat, baked stale by the hot sun in the enclosed space. An opened beer can sat perched by the emergency-brake handle, green and yellow mold grew from its hole and tab; several lay empty and crushed in the foot-well of the passenger seat.
“Come-on Steve,” Brian encouraged, opening the window all the way down and climbing in. “We have to keep up with Mundie.”
The yellow subcompact, trailed the small, blue pickup in a cloud of dust out onto the street that led back to the highway from Santa Elena; the large SUVs headed out the other direction to the foothills, the military base and the choppers.
The ferryman was yet to be at his station when they drove up to the docking area by the Macal River. Pulling the retrieving rope that dangled precariously close to the water, they tugged the small, one-vehicle barge back to its station and loaded the pickup. Encouraging Mundie to continue on ahead, Brian and Steve cranked the ferry back to its eastside moorings and loaded the car. After a few short speedy cranks, they were following the jungle, encroached road to the parking area, and Edmundo, near the Xunantunich ruins.
To their surprise, there were already several vehicles parked near the kiosk, and a few more up the trail to the left that approached the rear of the Castillo temple not visible from the lot.
“Let’s go up to the courtyard and see what’s going on,” suggested Mundie, pointing up to the hill and path. “If there is something being prepared, we’ll know.”
The three gingerly headed up the paved, steep path that led to the six-temple ruins that made up the ceremonial city of years past. Turning to check that all was well with the vehicles, Steve noticed motion in one of the vans that was parked close to the wooded trail and decided to check it out.
“Hey guys, I’ll catch up with you in a minute. I just need to check something out at the kiosk.”
Nodding without opposition, Brian and Edmundo continued up the steep hill in the direction of the ruins.
Trying to stay inconspicuous, Steve quietly walked around the cars just in time to hear the gentle slam of the van door. Poking his head around the rear of the van and looking up passed the large, backup mirrors, he saw the familiar build and hair of the fellow he had cold-cocked the night before. Checking in the vans windows, he noticed several, large shapes in the shadows of the interior. Two men had been taped together and were motionless. He could see slight jerks of discomfort; they were still alive. Quietly following behind, Steve stayed fifty feet at his rear and watched from his distance the movement and tried to determine his intent. A large, heavy object stretched his right jacket pocket, and all Steve could imagine it to be was the gun he had held in reserve the previous night. His heart began to pound as he thought of the repercussions that could ensue should this fellow recognize him. Pulling his hoodie low over his brow and donning his sunglasses, Steve continued along the path careful not to step on a stick or dry leaves. The enormous sound din of the jungle would cover most of his clatter, but there was always a chance this guy would turn at any moment to cover his trail. No sooner had the thought entered his mind, when Juan turned and noticed Steve behind him.
“What you doin here mang,” he yelled at Steve, taking hold of the object in his pocket?
“Take it easy dude,” Steve yelled back, not sure whether Juan had recognized him.
Juan did not move as Steve slowly sauntered up to within eight feet of him. Face-to-face they stood for several seconds till Juan slowly began to recognize the form that stood before him. Steve’s heart pounded hard as he stood before Juan and took note of the bluish welt on his forehead.
“Nice egg,” cited Steve as he stood motionless before Juan.
Juan bewildered, strained to see behind the glasses and then glanced down to his wrapped right hand. “Jou’re the bastard that hit me last….“
Before Juan could finish, Steve took a lung and flying leap at Juan who side-stepped and lost balance. Catching himself from the fall, Juan took his hands from his pockets and grasped at whatever was available to throw at Steve. Flaying at the sticks and refuse that flew through the air, Steve did a round-house kick and cau
ght Juan’s boot as he struck out to protect himself. Reaching in his pocket, he fumbled for the pistol and brought it up to fire at Steve. Missing the safety, he could not compress the trigger and lost his concentration. Steve swung around blindly not noticing the gun that flew off into the bushes and out of reach. Juan confused, lashed out at Steve and pushed him off balance into the slippery, wet underbrush. Feeling a shot of pain in his ankle as it bounced off an outcrop of a moss-covered boulder, Steve watched as Juan bolted out of sight into the dense underbrush and foliage that surrounded the trail.
”Ouch!”
Staying close to the periphery, Edmundo eased himself through the trees and brush to the boundary of the courtyard; not so much for covertness, but assurance of a least several minutes of unimpeded scrutiny of the ruins to the south. As before, when Brian and Steve had visited, there was a dance troop and several musicians that wandered and staged themselves in preparation for some event.
Through a pocket-size telescope, Mundie peered at the proceedings and handed the piece to Brian, “Look off to the left and rear of the front left corner.”
Brian gazed through the little, glass piece, “Is that the American from the resort?”
“Yep,” returned Mundie.
“What do you think he’s doing here,” Brian asked, handing the piece back to Edmundo.
“I dunno,” he replied, looking through the glass again. “We still don’t know where Shawna is, but she can’t be far away.”
“Yeah,” sighed Brian, leaning back against a tree. “I’m counting on it.”
ELEVEN
Diaz cinqo (day five) Crouched low beneath the trees, Brian and Edmundo waited patiently and could see the group that had gathered at the far end of the large court. The two were hidden high on the foliage laden, unexcavated ruins of a lesser temple and could watch the captors and wait for the opportune time to snatch Shawna away. If it had not been for the politics involved, and the noticeably familiar, government heavyweights, Oz and Ocho could have taken care of this in moments; a highpowered rifle at the opportune time could produce outstanding results, but with this many involved, the possible collateral damage unacceptable.
Near the apex of the temple Castillo, farthest from where they were perched, a man busied himself with a crate and several flag standards. A number of vehicles had clawed their way through the dense jungle to the rear of the Castillo. One, a large, black 4X4 stood ominous near the rear, a crumpled figure of a man civilians
would be hobbled back and forth as if anxious for the proceedings to begin. After several moments, a woman as limp as a ragdoll was dragged from behind the lower terrace that jutted out from one side of the ruin.
“Shawna,” eased from Brian’s lips as he recognized her wiry frame. He had not seen her for several months but his heart leaped as if they had parted just moments before. Anxious, his body tensed, readying itself for the fight ahead.
A firm hand gripped Brian’s arm as he prepared to leap from undercover.
“Waite, Brian,” Edmundo calmly spoke. “The time is not right yet. We will have a chance, soon.” Pointing with his free hand, “See that line of trees on the far side of the court; that is where we need to be. We have back-up. They will not act unless absolutely necessary.”
Grabbing his field glasses, Edmundo looked briefly to the spot tucked inconspicuously behind the banks of the ball court that was positioned parallel to the courtyard, and then handed them to his companero, Brian.
“I’m quite sure there will be only two men that will lead Shawna up the walkway to where the priest will be waiting in the alcove at the top. He will be the only one that will be in the chamber so we will have our chance then. If the memory of the sequence of the ceremonial events serves me well, we will need to be out of sight while they prepare Shawna for the procedure.” Edmundo took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “Since two other individuals, as far as I know, are the only others who will be allowed to approach the sacred area, there will be lots of chances to steal her away as we hide in one of the alcoves near the summit of the temple,” pointing to the apex of the temple. “The trick will be getting out alive once we have her. That is where Ocho and Oz will do their thing.”
“We will cross that bridge when we get there,” Brian interjected. “As long as Steve stays put and your friends do their part, I am sure we will make it. Are you ready for a fight?”
“Of course!”
Luckily, the defoliating of these ruins was very rarely ever completed and grew back even thicker after a few short months. The rear side of most temples never became clean, or the structures rebuilt to allow normal passage to the summit; this would be the advantage that hopefully would not be considered by the guards.
Receiving the binocular from Edmundo, Brian once again looked toward the small gathering that had slowly proceeded to the front of the temple. Scanning their faces through the lenses, he was surprised to see several familiar faces among the mostly native Mayans he recognized from the previous night, save one.
“That snake!”
There, tucked behind several military men was the sunglass-clad face of Magnus. What was he doing here? Just to his right was another woman of familiarity, “Amalia!”
“Be quiet, Brian! I know we are well hidden, but if you listen closely, there is no noise, only the rustling of the leaves in the wind, very strange.”
“Sorry.”
“We must make our way now,” Edmundo suggested, motioning with his hand to go slow and backtracked down the rear face of the hill. They slowly continued on to the west side of the site.
Ignorant of Brian and Edmundo, two others had inconspicuously crawled through the trees to the dense, fern laden, north side of the Castillo; both wanted to take some shots, one with a camera, the other, a gun.
Juan had somehow gotten through the perimeter of guards unnoticed, with one purpose in mind, to be rid of the cancer that had seemed to invade every aspect of his life. Since he had agreed to the compromise with Doug for Amalia, all those years earlier, he had yearned to have him dead, her as well, but for another reason. Amalia’s death would appease the continual pain he harbored for killing his father for her sake all those years before, and many others. Seeing her, resting at the front of the temple with the group, only strengthened his desire to end the life of the man that had continually belittled him, even to this day. There was another young woman just in front of him by the side of the temple. She looked drugged, swaying back and forth as if trying to stay awake. Juan watched as several men undressed her and rubbed her body with oil. It excited him to watch them caress her body and stirred an even stronger desire to act fearlessly. He would have to be patient. He recognized several of the plain-clothed guards that accompanied Doug, and they would recognize him. Behind them was another cadre standing almost as if at attention by several large, black vehicles at the tree line behind the temple El Castillo. One vehicle had its rear door open exposing a crumpled figure of a man seated; he peered from beneath a wide, brimmed fedora toward the men as they played with the naked woman. Juan had one shot left in the pistol he had carried from the city. He had wanted to kill the Canadian gringo before, but he had enough sense to let it go, till now. He could escape into the jungle with Amalia and start anew.
Owen, the journalist, ignorant of the severity of the situation, followed Juan just beyond his peripheral vision. Camera in hand, he was able to digitally record Juan’s every move. The army vehicles and the shackled men at the parking lot only fuelled his curiosity. Zooming in on the temple, he was able to document the identities of the individuals as they rested before the wide, stone-carved stairs at the base of the Castillo; several of these he had vague recollections of the previous day in Belmopan; they had been with the British contingency.
Unaware of the proclivity to mayhem, the custodian, in the rear of the black, Tahoe SUV, displayed a certain level of pleasure at watching the men prepare the girl for the ceremony. In one-way, the ceremony seemed so overdone and unne
cessary, but for over millennia of unimpeded execution, the more smoke and mirrors that could be added to the milieu, the less likelihood of exposure. He had in the past always been able to insure his anonymity by eliminating, over time, all those who had remotely come in contact with him and the festivity; this time would be no different. The process to him had become almost tedious, but with the return to the ancient site of his centuries old indignation, recompense would be savored sweetly. To once again have the opportunity to enlist such a fine specimen to his heartfelt cause was at the least melodramatic, rather exciting, and the princess’s offspring, how ironic.
Not a quarter mile away, Steve sat in the driver’s seat of the Rover, door wide open, his foot cocked up through the open window letting the wind blow up his shorts. His ankle ached and the skinned knuckle on his right hand was badly swollen. He had made a good choice in not going up to the ruins. It was better he stay in the parking area and wait for the others to return. He could only imagine what could and would be happening not half a mile up the hill, but someone needed to stay and mind the equipment and liaise between the two groups of patrols. Steve waited patiently for any word on the radios, but dare not try to contact the two. He became bored, but was content to stay to ensure the lookout guards captured earlier by Juan, stayed immobile.
From their vantage point, Edmundo and Brian could see quite clearly what was happening. The circumstances started to become clear with Amalia, Magnus and a few others being kept in the foreground out of the way and sight of the preparations that were going on just on the other side of the temple. It was not apparent whether they were being held against their will or not .The path that led up to the concourse of the temple, was well worn and accessible to the third tier, then, the way higher became more difficult and steep with cut stones strewn across the narrow, slick pathway. Brian could see Magnus looking worn, while Amalia looked uneasy and messy, not her usual demeanor. Within moments, a Teague-clad, military guard, and a well-dressed man came from around the far side of the temple. They came to within yards of where they were and in front of the small group. He looked vaguely familiar as he approached and came to stand in front of Amalia.