He wouldn’t be fooled a second time by that starry-eyed gaze.
“Is this a…” Cama asked pointing to a floor to ceiling computer tower. “Is that a Sazani 400?”
“500,” Stark replied with pride.
“500? I didn’t even know the new model was for sale.”
“It isn’t,” Stark explained. Stark and his mom were on every major cutting-edge computing company’s beta list. They got all the new toys before everyone else.
“Is it as powerful as they say?” Cama asked, her eyes glistening with interest.
“And then some. It has two times the power of what was called a ‘super computer’ ten years ago.”
She went over and touched its brushed black metal case. “I’ve got some theoretical mathematical equations I would love to run through this,” she said breathlessly.
“Maybe we could schedule you some time on it,” Stark’s mom offered.
“Really?” Cama asked.
His mother shrugged. “One of the benefits of having your very own super computer.”
His mom pulled out a chair and Cama sat down, seeming still enraptured with the sheer volume of computing power available in this unassuming attic.
And the screens? They had eight curved Ultra-HD monitors and even a 3D projector on beta loan from Provision. It wasn’t performing quite up to the hype, but who cared? Holograms were going to be routine within the decade, so this was just the first embryonic commercial attempt. Kind of like the Commodore 64 of holograms.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Why don’t you tell us about the man who was following Stark at the convention center?” Stark’s mother asked then offered Cama a plate of peanut butter-chocolate chip-butterscotch Rice Crispy treats.
Cama absently accepted one and took a bite, then her eyes dilated. “This is the best tasting dessert I’ve ever had.”
“Get used to it,” Stark said, taking his seat in his 3rd generation ergonomic chair. It was his command throne.
“After getting your description,” Stark’s mother said, her fingers flying across the keyboard without her even thinking about glancing down. “I found this guy. Is he the man following Stark?”
Cama nodded. “Yes. He was in the hallway the first day, but I didn’t think anything about it. But I saw him again today, and when I really looked at him, he turned and walked off.”
“Did you run him through facial recognition?” Stark asked his mother, but got the glare. Of course she had. She was a preeminent cyber surveillance expert.
“It came up blank.”
Stark and his mother shared a look. Cama glanced between them.
“And that is strange?”
“These days?” Stark asked. “Yes. Between military IDs, civilian driver’s licenses and passports, we’ve got nearly ninety-eight percent of the population in our data banks.”
Stark’s mother called up another screen. “Unless he was in the system and was deleted.”
“A spy then?” Cama asked.
“Or someone who didn’t want to get flagged at the airport. The drug cartels are getting as sophisticated as the CIA and MI6 at hiding the identity of their operatives.”
Cama studied the screens. She caught on quickly. “So we don’t know who he is?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Stark’s mother replied.
“I’m sorry,” Cama said, taking another nibble at her Rice Crispy treat. “I don’t understand.”
His mother slid over to yet a third keyboard. “Once I realized he wasn’t in the official data banks, I switched focused and moved over to social media. Trying to find him on one of the platforms.”
“Really?” Cama asked. “You found the guy on Facebook?”
“Hardly,” his mother answered. “Covert agents are too sophisticated these days to make a mistake like that, but in their past? Well, let’s just say My Space.”
Stark chuckled, nodding. “They always forget about My Space.”
“Who doesn’t?” his mother answered with a smile.
She brought up the man’s old My Space page. “He is a Peruvian national named Diego Mendez.”
Cama cocked her head. “What would a Peruvian national want with Stark?”
That was the question indeed.
* * *
Cristoval walked down the slanting pathway. He tried to get his hands to stop shaking, but they moved of their own volition. He had proven himself again and again, yet his body insisted upon having a very visceral response to this situation.
Of course he was walking into a cave with four Special Forces soldiers. Even with their weapons on the ground, they were by no means defenseless. They could each kill him a dozen ways with their bare hands.
His only protection was their fear. Fear of what the Brotherhood would do in retaliation to any attack on his person.
He headed down this steep tunnel for not just one reason, but two. He needed the pendant, of that there was no doubt. But somehow he must convince Dr. Monroe to accompany him.
Cristoval might need to make some grave threats, but he felt confident he could peel the archeologist away from the rest, if he released the hostages.
This is how these people worked, was it not?
Gulping, he reached the door.
He gave a nod to the guard who stood at the entrance. Yet the man did not open the passage.
“We should gas them,” the guard said.
That was his kinsmen’s go-to wasn’t it? Wanton destruction. If he did not have the education that he did, the Brotherhood would have been rid of him long ago.
“It is not up for debate,” Cristoval said, hoping it was firm enough to convince the guard he would brook no argument.
It must have worked, for the guard, despite his scowl, hit the lever.
The stone door groaned, sliding into the wall.
Time to see if Christ’s trust in Cristoval was founded.
* * *
Brandt smiled as a man he could only assume was Cristoval, walked into the cave. The man seemed not quite as confident as he sounded on the speaker. Funny how a good ass-whooping did that to you.
He allowed Cristoval to make it halfway across the cave before he stepped forward, away from his team and the hostages. A few of them were still crying. Brandt had never seen how tears could help get you out of dangerous situation. Instead, you needed clear vision to see when an escape path opened up to you.
And Brandt was definitely looking for one of those.
Because at the moment, he had no idea how he was going to get everyone out of here, but he felt pretty solid about pulling it off. These zealots always overreached. And in that moment when they were grabbing for the stars, was the time you punched them in the solar plexus.
He was certain Cristoval wouldn’t hold to their agreement, and when he revealed his treachery, Brandt would know when to make his move.
Cristoval’s eyelids narrowed. Brandt opened his arms, showing he wasn’t carrying any weapons. That didn’t seem to calm Cristoval any. Wise man.
Cristoval stopped, leaving a few feet between them. Brandt waited. He was going to let the Brotherhood speak first.
“I want the pendant,” Cristoval blurted out.
“And what do we get in exchange?” Brandt asked.
“I don’t think you are in a good bargaining position,” Cristoval spat, his Peruvian accent coming out.
Good. The rawer the man was, the better.
Cristoval seemed to regroup. “However, if you allow Dr. Monroe to accompany us, I will allow all of you to leave, unharmed.”
Okay, so there it was. Unfortunately, there was no way in hell Rebecca was going anywhere with this freak.
“Sorry,” Brandt said. “Deal breaker.”
The man pulled a silver cylinder with a red button at the top. A detonator. What did Brandt say about overreaching?
“This is the deal breaker,” Cristoval said. “Do as I say or I will bring this entire mountain down upon our he
ads.”
Brandt took a step forward. “You religious freaks. You can’t hold to a bargain to save your lives, can you?”
Cristoval didn’t back away. Why would he? He thought he had the upper hand.
Wrong.
Brandt closed the gap. “No, you won’t. I will.”
Brandt reached across, put his palm over Cristoval’s hand and pushed down. Cristoval tried to stop him, but Brandt pushed down and the red button clicked as it was engaged.
“What have you done?” Cristoval asked in horror.
CHAPTER 13
“Are you mad?” Cristoval demanded as the floor beneath his feet shook.
The beefy soldier in front of him didn’t seem mad at all. Or crazy. As a matter of fact, the man seemed pleased with himself.
How long would that last, as the ceiling lurched, raining down a cloud of dust?
“Well?” the soldier asked.
Cristoval grit his teeth. This was not how this siege should end. The soldier had gotten the best of him. “How did you know I would bring the detonator? Or for that matter I would have explosives in the mountain?”
The large man shrugged. “I didn’t. I just know you religious zealot types can’t honor your word and usually have some megalomaniac plans. I just bet on that.”
Cristoval might have hit any other man that said such a thing to him. To suggest he had no honor? But he feared the big soldier would catch his fist and break it before it ever hit his cheekbone.
The cave shook more violently. That was explosion number three. If they weren’t out of the mountain by the tenth, they would be trapped in the rubble. The explosives had been planted along fault lines in the granite. Each explosion built on the previous one to blow the mountain from the inside out.
The door behind them would be sealed. It was a safety feature to keep everyone evacuating down. The guard would have already fled his post at the first explosion.
There was only one way out. And the way the soldier flexed his hand, it appeared they would all take it together.
Cristoval knew when a battle was over. That didn’t mean the war was over, not by far.
He stepped over to the wall and pushed in a series of stars. Dr. Monroe was right over his shoulder studying his progression.
The cave rocked again, throwing several of the original hostages to the ground. The other soldiers helped them up. Cristoval had no sympathy for any of them. This was the price they paid for trying to interfere with Peru’s sovereignty.
“Atlas,” Monroe whispered over her shoulder.
She was correct. The key to unlock the door was the constellation normally referred to as Atlas, the man who carried the world on his back. Apropos to the situation, was it not?
* * *
Davidson brought up the rear, making sure all of the hostages got out of the increasingly unstable cave. Another explosion ripped through the rock, splitting the wall of the cavern, obliterating dozens of paintings.
This was going to be over soon.
It wasn’t until he got out into the hallway that he realized how steep the tunnel was. It was nearly vertical. The civilians would never be able to climb out quickly enough. Brandt glanced over to Rebecca and saw the look of worry on her face. She didn’t think she could either.
Davidson unpacked his length of rope.
Brandt gave the nod. “Go.”
Ki stepped up. “Sir, I should be the one to lead the charge.”
Brandt shrugged. “Davidson is faster, but if you want to go too, do it.”
Ki unpacked his rope as well. Davidson didn’t wait for his teammate. He headed up the steep passage, finding toe and finger holds along the rough-hewn wall.
“Sir,” a voice spoke from below. It was Bridget. “I am an expert rock climber. I should go as well.”
Of course she was. She was Svengurd’s niece.
It only took a moment for Brandt to order, “Go.”
Davidson refocused on his task. This wasn’t going to be easy, but nor was it going to be hard. He had this. Well, he thought he owned it until Bridget passed him. Passed him.
What?
He glanced over his shoulder at Ki who was struggling to haul this large frame up the shaft. “Welcome to my world,” the large man grunted.
* * *
Bunny wasn’t happy, but who could blame her? They had been sitting here for what felt like forever watching the shaman eat live fish. Seriously. How did she get herself into situations like this?
Maybe being restricted to the attic wasn’t so bad.
Finally, the shaman licked his fingers and looked up. His brown face was painted in black, white and red stripes. If he was going for creepy, the guy had nailed it.
His eyes seemed to glow, or a better description was glower. He spoke rapidly in Spanish. Bunny had a hard time keeping up. Something about a sacrifice.
Her head jerked around to Rojas who held up his hand.
“He speaks metaphorically.”
Bunny wasn’t so sure of that. The guy had just eaten live fish. He seemed to have a pretty low bar for barbarism. Rojas inclined his head to the shaman and replied. The answer made no sense. It was a series of random words. A code. One she didn’t have the key to.
The shaman pulled a long dagger from his belt.
You know what? Bunny could read behind the lines.
She leapt to her feet. She wasn’t about to be sacrificed on some suburban mansion’s roof. Rojas tried to grab her arm, but she jerked out of his grip. Turning on her ruined heels, Bunny ran for it.
Branches and large fronds whipped across her face, but she couldn’t worry about that. A monkey hooted as she passed. She had to jump over another snake and nearly twisted her ankle on her heel.
But she felt like she was moving in the right direction. She could get out of here. Rojas called after her, but she didn’t stop. She really didn’t need any more information than she already had.
She could see the sky through the jungle. There was the door. She was almost there. The air felt thick in her lungs. And the insects? Bunny didn’t even want to count how many she had swallowed on her flight from this pseudo jungle. The humidity wouldn’t allow the sweat on her back to evaporate.
Seeing her escape, Bunny nearly ran into the jaguar that jumped down from the trees. The thing landed lightly, turning to her, swishing its tail, blocking her path forward with a hiss
Come on.
* * *
Stark looked to his watch and scooted away an inch from Cama. The woman didn’t seem to understand his need for a wide personal space bubble.
“Hey, mom, have you heard from Bunny recently?”
His mother shook her head. “She missed her last hourly call in and every time I’ve tried her since then, her phone has been off.”
“That doesn’t exactly stop us though, now does it?” Stark asked.
“No, son, it certainly does not,” his mother replied working her magic across the keys.
A new screen came up as a locator beacon ranged around the Washington DC area. It bounced around as the cell towers registered Bunny’s phone’s pings.
“Look,” Cama said, pointing to the left most screen. “Another earthquake.”
Stark tore his eyes off of Bunny’s monitor to look at what Cama was talking about. There had been several seismic events in the Andes. Stark would bet serious money that those activities were not earthquakes, but explosions. And explosions anywhere near team Alpha Tango were not a good thing.
It seemed like the team was blowing their way out of the Andes. Which for anyone else would seem extreme beyond belief, but for Brandt and the team? It was pretty routine.
There was no way they could help the team at the moment. Not until they surfaced.
No, the priority at the moment was Bunny.
Where was she?
“I think I’ve got her,” his mother said as the locator stopped bouncing so randomly and circled an upscale northeast suburb. What in the heck was Bunny doing there?
His mother zoomed in on the signal.
“Is that a jaguar?” Cama asked, squinting at the screen.
Sure enough inside a huge arboretum crouched a jaguar, its tail whipping back and forth.
Then Stark recognized the other figure. Bunny.
One second Bunny was standing up to a jaguar, the next moment she was gone.
“Mom!”
“I’m trying, but the satellite isn’t in a fixed position.”
Stark stared at the screen so hard that he felt like he had memorized each and every pixel. He studied the monitor for any flash of her rich auburn curls, but Bunny still wasn’t there.
* * *
Rebecca gripped the rope, pulling herself up another few inches. This wasn’t going all that fast. Thank God the other people ahead of her were weaker than she was. Rebecca would hate to be the reason for the slow-up.
“Move!” Ki shouted from above. The mountain had shaken another few times. Rock was splitting. Chunks of the tunnel were falling past them.
The hostages were scared, exhausted, and not climbing all that fast. Didn’t they know their lives depended upon it? Where was that adrenaline surge to get them up the tunnel?
Rebecca supposed they were in the adrenaline fatigue stage of their captivity. They were burnt out.
“Push,” Brandt called out from beneath her. He put his shoulder under her and shoved. Rebecca squished against the person on top of her.
“Push,” Rebecca repeated, shoving on the bum above her.
The word “push” echoed through the tunnel. Each of them helping the person in front of them. With Brandt bearing the brunt of the weight. Thank god he worked out four hours every day. She would never complain again about him rolling out of bed at five am. Never.
The mountain lurched again. This time the wall of the tunnel split completely, falling away. Rebecca lost her footing, swinging on the weight of the rope alone. Screams filled the air.
She didn’t have the oxygen to scream. She wished that she did.
Brandt yanked on the rope, sending the string of hostages against the far wall.
“Get your footing!” he called up the tunnel.
Rebecca glanced up once to find they weren’t that far from the top. Davidson, Ki, and Bridget were helping people out the top. They were almost there.
The 3rd Cycle of the Betrayed Series Collection: Extremely Controversial Historical Thrillers (Betrayed Series Boxed set) Page 36