Ripper

by David L. Golemon

  The small man stepped up to Sarah and whispered as he squeezed past her in the narrow cave passage.

  “Not exactly Carlsbad Caverns is it?”

  Sarah smiled at Jason Ryan who was part of her two-man security team. She half turned and shined the small flashlight into his face.

  “We can’t have everything, Mr. Excitement. And as a matter of fact I’m beginning to think this could be quite a find for the Southwest. I think these were made by Southern Cheyenne Indians, and not the Apache people like the good professors believe. We do need to get a team down here from the Group; it looks like some of the theories that have been floating around by the Anthropology Department may be true about the Southern Cheyenne having led raids against the Apache this far south. This may be the proof they need.”

  Jason kept his face expressionless and then yawned as wide as he could.

  “Asshole,” she said as her light went from him to a space that was void of pictograms. The spot was hollowed out, as if a piece of the granite had been sliced out by a power tool.

  “Yeah, well this asshole could have been playing football today, but Director Compton thinks you need a babysitter on this gig. Why am I—”

  “This is wrong; some idiot has cut into this wall and taken…,” she stopped speaking and shined the flashlight farther down the cave wall. “Damn it! Someone’s stealing this stuff.” She moved the light back to Jason who had his own light out and was looking at the ground.

  “Yeah, well whoever they were wore U.S. Army–issue combat boots, and one,” he pointed to a smaller set next to the larger, “ladies, or midget male, designer Timberland work boots,” he said as his light picked up several more footprints in the loose soil of the cave floor. “You know, for the past two days, starting across the border in Laredo, I’ve had the feeling we were being followed. I wrote it off as just being paranoid about everything lately.”

  “This is criminal. Hell, no one’s supposed to know about this place. You think someone knew we were coming here and followed us?”

  “I don’t know, but Sarah, Mexico is a convenience store for antiquity theft, you know that. Hell, I bet when we head back through the border you can pick up a piece of this wall at the flea market in Nuevo Laredo.”

  “It’s sickening. Come on, let’s get these kids back to the cave opening,” she said as she shined the light on her wristwatch. “I promised to meet Jack and his mother for dinner in Laredo at seven.”

  “And I better get you there on time for the big meeting—scared?” Jason asked with a smirk.

  Sarah didn’t answer as she moved the light over at least six areas where the cave paintings had been removed by modern power tools.

  “I asked if you’re scared meeting the colonel’s mom.”

  Sarah finally looked over at her friend. “Absolutely terrified, now shut the hell up about it.”

  Jason smiled and started to follow Sarah out of the lower passages of the natural cave system, shouting at the students in English and Spanish for them to head back to the surface.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about his mother. I mean the colonel’s a nice guy isn’t he? Someone had to have taught him right. I’m sure they are just like one another. Hell, you may even find out that he cried when he was a kid when he saw Bambi’s mother got killed.”

  “That isn’t helping Ryan!”

  * * *

  In the bright sunlight Sarah placed her sunglasses on as the first of the two buses of students pulled out, heading north to the border. The second bus filled with university students from Mexico City would head south to a cheap hotel that was rented for them. Sarah waved at the bus as it passed by. She then glanced over at her security escort of two men. Ryan was bent at the knees and was examining something in the dirt. Jason straightened and moved to follow the academic team toward where Sarah was standing.

  “I would like to thank you for your excellent evaluation of the geological deposits surrounding the pictographs, Miss McIntire. I must send a letter of appreciation to your employer.”

  Professor Salvador Espinoza, dean of anthropological studies at the University of Mexico, was smiling and holding out his hand. Next to him were three professors from that department, and bringing up the rear was the lone professor from Baylor University, Dr. Barbara Stansfield. Jason Ryan brought up the rear, and that was when Sarah noticed Jason raise his sunglasses and then point to the ground next to the American professor’s boots. He then lowered the sunglasses when he saw Sarah had indeed noticed her footwear.

  “Yes, I agree,” the American professor added, “excellent job. Where should we send that letter Miss McIntire, was it the National Geographic Society?”

  Sarah slowly released Professor Espinoza’s hand after shaking it and then looked the American woman in her sunglass-covered eyes. She held out her hand and the two shook as Sarah sized the woman up, even though young Sarah was far shorter than her counterpart.

  “No, I was sent by the Texaco Corporation. They’ve had dealings here before and they knew I was an expert on the formations that make up the surface area of most of Tamaulipas, and the vice president of the company is a graduate of Baylor,” she said as she removed her gloved hand from Stansfield’s own. Sarah had stuck to her cover story, with her bosses at the Event Group supplying the information about her fictitious employment history, so she knew the part about the Texaco VP was true.

  “My mistake, Texaco it is,” Stansfield said as she removed her sunglasses and looked closely into Sarah’s. McIntire then removed her own sunglasses so the professor could get a better look. “I was just wondering because I overheard your two men over there call you lieutenant.”

  Sarah smiled as she looked at Ryan and Marine Lance Corporal Kyle Udall. It was Ryan who rolled his eyes and looked away first.

  “Yes, well I used to be in the army, that’s where I received my degree, and my military title stuck after it became known throughout my department at Texaco.”

  “I see,” Stansfield said and was going to ask another question when three vehicles came into view over the crest of the small hill that fronted the cave system.

  Ryan and Udall moved to separate. Udall moved toward the cars that were waiting for the academic teams, while Ryan moved toward one of the lean-tos where he had a large backpack.

  Sarah saw their movement and immediately became alert to danger herself. She spied the three vehicles. One was a new Cadillac Escalade; the other two were fairly new Range Rovers. They looked to be full of men.

  “Who is this?” Stansfield asked as she raised a hand to shield her eyes.

  “Professor Espinoza, were you aware that more than just a few of the pictographs were removed from the cave system prior to our arrival here?”

  “No, I was not,” the Mexican professor said as his eyes went from the three SUVs to those of Sarah McIntire. “What do you mean removed?”

  “Cut straight from the stone by mechanical means. Several hundred thousand dollars worth if I know the black market well enough.” Sarah chanced a glance down once more to the boots worn by Professor Stansfield. She confirmed they were women’s Timberlands, approximately size five. “Maybe these late arrivals can explain what happened. They seem to be driving fast enough toward us and they do look like men with a purpose.” Sarah looked at the American anthropologist. “Doctor Stansfield, you claimed that you had never been in the lower galleries of the cave system before, so can you explain why your boot prints were there?” Sarah said as she smiled, not looking at the American professor but keeping her eyes on the three cars as they came to a sliding halt, creating a dust cloud that covered Jason Ryan as he removed a nine-millimeter Berretta from his backpack.

  “I assure you this is the first day that I have had an opportunity to study the system, I—”

  Sarah turned from watching the three cars dislodge their passengers of fifteen salty-looking characters.

  “There may be one or two pairs of designer Timberlands in the whole of Mexico Doctor, and you
seem to be wearing a pair, and the footprints we found in the lower galleries were Timberland size five, and I’m only guessing here, but you seem to fit the shoe.”

  Sarah saw that the men were armed. Some held handguns and others had very lethal-looking mini AK-47s. She also noticed they were pointed at them.

  Professor Espinoza, with wide eyes, moved his two assistants to his rear as the men approached.

  “May we help you?” Espinoza asked in Spanish.

  The man leading the fourteen others never hesitated—he raised his automatic weapon and shot Espinoza in the forehead.

  Sarah couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed. The man had been talking to her just a second before.

  “This wasn’t in the deal, what are you doing?” Stansfield cried as she took two involuntary steps back.

  The same man who had just murdered Professor Espinoza aimed and quickly fired a round into one of the male anthropology assistants. The young man crumpled and fell dead into the dust. The murderous man then walked over to Stansfield and looked the forty-six-year-old over. He suddenly raised the automatic and brought it down onto the top of her head, sending the blonde professor crashing to the ground. He then waved his companions forward. Three men came toward Sarah, but five steps were as close as they got. Two bullets apiece slammed into their head and chests.

  Sarah dove for cover as Jason Ryan came forward in an assault squat as he took in more of the men. He aimed at the man who had killed Professor Espinoza and fired once, but one of the assassin’s men who had come forward stepped in his line of fire and took the round to his chest.

  Suddenly an automatic weapon opened up and Sarah ducked her head down as two of the fifty bullets fired from the other ruthless men in the group hit Ryan and he fell backward. He lay there unmoving. Sarah started to stand, but the leader of the group kicked her in the stomach and sent her rolling on the ground. Then she heard the female anthropology assistant that had been pushed aside by Espinoza scream before being silenced. Sarah, as she held her stomach in pain and shame, heard another AK-47 open fire. She remained on the ground and never saw Lance Corporal Udall die as he came out of one of the vehicles where he had been rummaging for his weapon.

  The leader of the group of men sneered as he used his boot to roll Sarah over onto her back. He pointed at her and then at the younger woman he had just silenced with a punch to the face, and then he used the barrel of the automatic to point one last time at the bleeding and unconscious blonde professor from Baylor. He smiled and wiped the sweat from his dripping face and beard.

  “Jefe will be pleased with his new guests—two gringo women and one young seniorita from Mexico City.” He reached down and pulled Sarah up by the hair and looked her in the eyes. “Pleased indeed.”

  Sarah was let go and she fell back into the dust. She immediately rolled over and tried to look at the spot where Jason had fallen, but she couldn’t see him. She managed to look up, and that was when she saw the sprawled body of Corporal Udall. He was lying face down in the dirt. Sarah shook her head, but she remained silent as the leader of the group pulled Professor Stansfield up, also by the hair. He shook her hard.

  “Our arrangement is at an end. You were supposed to delay these fools from examining the cave until we had all of the artifacts out, you stupid gringo bitch,” he shouted at the woman who was just coming around. “Señor Guzman will be very angry, so you better hope he will be happy with two new women for his stable, or you may learn why he has earned his nickname.”

  Sarah saw the American woman shake her head, still unable to find her voice after the blow to the top of her head. Sarah slowly started to rise and then stopped suddenly as she heard the nickname of the man they were to be brought to. Her heart froze as she recognized the name of one of the most ruthless men in the world.

  They were to be taken to Nuevo Laredo and Sarah knew they would come face to face with the most ruthless drug lord in all of Mexico—Juan Guzman—the Anaconda.

  * * *

  The man with the binoculars lowered them and ducked behind the small rise as the women from the colleges were ruthlessly pushed and shoved and beaten until they were all inside the three vehicles. The man rolled onto his back and felt to make sure he still had his small .38 caliber handgun in his waistband. He then pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket and with shaking hands raised it to his face. He opened the cover, still shaking from witnessing the ruthless murder of four men in front of the caves, and then to his disappointment he saw that the cell phone’s signal strength was only at two bars. That had to be enough.

  “Good God,” he mumbled as he pushed a selected number from his address book and hit it. He had to do it twice as he lay with his face to the sun. He couldn’t stop the shakes from making the simplest of tasks so daunting. Finally the call went through and a phone on the other end was answered.

  “Yes?” answered a firm voice.

  “Señor, I did as our contract asked for and tailed the subject from her hotel in Laredo. She crossed the border just as you said she would.”

  “And the main target?”

  “He was not among the two men that accompanied her.”

  “That is not very good news,” came the reply.

  “Señor, they are all dead,” said the man as he removed the small gun from his pants, fumbled it, and then finally caught it and held it to his chest.

  “Explain that. The woman you followed is dead?” asked the voice, this time without some of its confident manner.

  “Señor, the three women are alive, but all of the men are dead. They were killed by other men who arrived in cars.”

  “Who are these men?”

  “There is only one man in all of Mexico that kills with such abandon, señor. It had to be the work of Juan Guzman; no one else would dare such an attack in his territory.”

  “I know this name, yes I know it well. I have done business with this rather unstable gentleman in the past. He has some silly nickname down there if I remember right.”

  “Señor, the man you wanted me to find was not among the dead, but the woman I was asked to follow hoping she would lead me to him has been taken by the most brutal man in all of Mexico. What am I to do now?”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. It lasted for a full thirty seconds until the shaking man thought he had finally lost the signal. He tried to press the gun into his chest to assist in stopping the shakes.

  “You still have my business card?” the voice finally asked.

  “Si,” the man answered as he rose partially to his knees and looked around to make sure he wasn’t to be the next target of the murdering men from below.

  “Good, I now want you to wait for two hours and then go to see this Guzman and tell him an old acquaintance would like to discuss some business. Relay to him that I am most particularly interested in hearing about his Anasazi Indian collection. Tell him my opening offer is twenty-five million dollars, which should at least get you in the door. Once there explain that I am on my way to meet with him. Is that clear?”

  “Are you insane señor, I will be killed!”

  “Do this and I will wire transfer one million dollars into your San Antonio bank account. Now do this or do not come back to the States, or you will discover that the truly ruthless men do not only reside in Mexico.” The phone connection ended.

  “Madre di dios,” the man said as the cell phone fell to his chest where he allowed it to lay. He looked at the business card he had pulled from his pocket.

  The man moaned at the thought of traveling thirty miles north to Nuevo Laredo and presenting himself to Juan Guzman, the Anaconda, just like a lamb to slaughter. First he was contracted out of his agency’s offices in San Antonio to follow this small American woman. He was then told that this McIntire woman would eventually lead him to the man that his employer sought—a Colonel Jack Collins. Now he was to be sacrificed to Juan Guzman for a reason he knew nothing of.

  The man slammed the business card to his
chest and cursed the one-million-dollar bribe the man had offered. He sniveled and then looked at the card once more. It was one of the expensively printed business cards you can only pick up at the best stationery stores—Mr. Hanover Jones, Antiquities Acquisition and Auction House, New York City—London—Paris.

  The man placed the card back into his pocket and knew he would follow orders as he sat up and took a deep breath. After all, a million dollars could buy a very nice funeral.

  Two thousand miles away Colonel Henri Farbeaux, the man known as Hanover Jones to the legitimate world, calmly hung up the rented office phone and then slowly stood and furiously tipped the desk he was sitting behind upside down. Not only was he not to kill Jack Collins, he now learned that the only woman he admired outside of his dead wife was being held by a murderous scum.

  Farbeaux stood and looked at the phone on the floor with the broken desk tipped beside it. He took a deep breath and then forced calmness into his body. Nothing could infuriate him more than the thought of Collins, the man responsible for his beloved wife’s death, still breathing, but nothing could ever match that feeling more than the thought of little Sarah being hurt. He reached into his expensive coat and brought out his cell phone. While he hit the number he wanted, he kicked absentmindedly at the broken phone upon the floor. His eyes were blazing in anger.

  “Have my plane ready with a flight plan to Laredo, Texas.”

  EVENT GROUP COMPLEX

  NELLIS AFB, NEVADA