Wrath of the Gods (A James Acton Thriller, #18) (James Acton Thrillers)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  A ladder gripped by the man she loved.

  “James!”

  James Acton stood frozen in place. The hood of a truck was visible, a large hole now in the wall they were about to climb. There was no way this was an accident, and his immediate instinct was to run, a third front about to be opened up, this side of the compound undefended for the moment. A figure climbed through the windshield and crawled across the hood, silhouetted in the darkness. A weapon aimed toward the door where Reading and the others stood. He was about to shout a warning when he heard his name.

  And he would recognize that voice anywhere.

  His jaw dropped as his shoulders slumped, everything forgotten as the ladder clattered at his side. She was alive. The love of his life was alive. It had been her all along that had followed them, that had killed five of their kidnappers, and was here now, rescuing them.

  “Laura!” He sprinted toward her when something caught his eye. Someone was on the roof. Gunfire tore at the wall beside him and he dove to the ground, but not before something tore at his leg.

  “James!”

  Laura watched in horror as her husband was hit. She spun toward the source of the gunfire, spotting two men on the roof, and opened fire, the first dropping, the second taking cover. She heard shouts, the words not understood though their meaning clear from the tone.

  Help was being called for.

  There were shouts from the front gate, some sounding like cheers, quickly followed by a massive increase in firepower.

  Something’s changed.

  “Taking the shot.” Niner squeezed the trigger and the target dropped. He adjusted his aim so he could check on Acton and sighed with relief as he saw the toughest civilian he had ever met, push to his feet.

  “Wait, three more targets headed toward them.”

  Niner adjusted his aim, Atlas playing spotter today.

  “Hold, they’re friendlies. Looks like we’ve got the two professors, Agent Reading, our Mexican professor, and one civilian female.”

  Niner’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t tell me Reading picked up another chick in the jungle.”

  Atlas grunted. “Chicks dig the British accent.”

  Niner debated attempting one, deciding against it, already knowing his was terrible. “What aboot Sco-ish?”

  Atlas eyeballed him. “You’re going to die a lonely old man. In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever known the touch of a woman.”

  Niner opened his mouth for a witty retort when Atlas cut him off. “Wait, we’ve got more company. Shit, they just went out of sight.”

  Niner scanned the compound. “Where?”

  “Approaching the one-two corner. Opposite side of the building.”

  Niner adjusted his aim but could see no one from their position. “Zero-One, we’ve got hostiles approaching their position and no shot. One-Two corner, over.”

  “On it. Stand by.”

  Officer Santana stared over his shoulder, panic setting in. El Jefe’s men had returned, the odds switching back to the crime lord’s favor, Galano’s men now fighting on two fronts, quickly getting mowed down. He spotted three fleeing toward the side of the house he was heading for, and hit the deck, the half wall hiding his position as they sprinted by. They rounded the corner and he heard shouts. Someone screamed. And it was a voice he recognized.

  “Esperanza!”

  Laura spun, raising her AK-47 as the woman with Reading screamed and pointed. Laura squeezed the trigger, not hesitating to fire, everyone she knew already within sight. Two of the men dropped as the bumper of the truck bounced. Gunfire erupted behind her and she dropped, spinning backward as she turned to take aim at the new arrival. “BD!”

  Dawson hopped to the ground, Spock following him as they quickly advanced toward the corner, the new arrivals dead. They fell back toward the hole she had made, and she sighed with relief.

  “You got my message!”

  Dawson gave her a quick two-fingered salute. “Yup, Dylan was able to get things rolling. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

  The thunder of chopper blades in the distance could be heard and felt, even more relief sweeping through her. Helicopters meant government, which meant they’d be safe soon. Dawson killed those thoughts.

  “The Federales are going to be here any second now with orders to kill everything.”

  Her chest tightened. Had they gone through all of this just to be killed in the end by the good guys? Dawson pointed to Acton. “You good to move?”

  He nodded. “Just a scratch.”

  Reading grabbed him, tossed Acton’s arm over his shoulder, then helped him toward the truck.

  Dawson activated his comm. “One-One, come get us.” Dawson climbed up on the hood, pulling Laura up then the Mexican woman.

  “Esperanza!”

  They all spun toward the voice, Laura raising her weapon as the woman cried out. “Hector!”

  Dawson slapped Laura’s weapon down. “Hold your fire, friendly!” The man rushed toward the woman, hugging her hard. “Let’s go, now!” shouted Dawson.

  Laura helped pull Acton onto the hood, Reading pushing from behind as Dawson rushed toward the reunited couple, urging them to save the hugs for later. “Let’s go, Santana. No time for that!”

  So he knows him.

  She helped James over the top of the truck then leaped to the ground, Reading flipping over the back with a grunt. He held up his hands and helped Acton down, Morales following a moment later, then the Mexican woman and Santana, whom Laura assumed was her husband from the way they had kissed.

  A massive explosion at the front of the compound signaled the arrival of someone with heavy ordnance. Dawson hopped to the ground, Spock following as an SUV raced toward them. Laura raised her weapon when Dawson put a hand on the barrel, gently lowering it. It skidded to a halt feet away, the window down. Niner leaned out.

  “Somebody order an Uber?”

  James Acton climbed into the back seat, pushing all the way to the far side, Laura following him. He grabbed her and held her tight, his eyes squeezed shut. He never wanted to let her go. He had been certain she was dead, there simply no reason to believe it was her following them. There had been a signal from the tracking device Diaz’s men had been carrying, so someone else had been out there.

  Maybe they were with her.

  But she was alone now. He had a million questions, yet they could wait. They’d have to wait.

  “I thought you were dead.”

  She gazed up at him, smiling. “You should know by now that I have nine lives.”

  He chuckled. “How many did you use up this time?”

  She shrugged. “I’m afraid to count. At least you were the one that got shot this time.” She pressed gently on the tear in his pants and he winced. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “It only hurts if someone touches it.”

  Her hand darted away. “Sorry.”

  He laughed. “Forget about it.”

  The final door slammed shut, everyone crammed inside.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here!” shouted Dawson from the passenger seat. Niner hammered on the gas and cranked the wheel, the back end spinning out as they pulled a 180, sending them hurtling toward the rear of the compound. Dawson activated his comm as Acton stared out the window, helicopters circling the area, a large gun battle to their right. “Control, Zero-One. Advise the Mexicans that they’ve got friendlies on the road to the north side of the compound in a black SUV. We’ve rescued all the hostages, over.”

  Everyone sat in silence, waiting for some indication from Dawson that the message had been received. A helicopter roared overhead, a beam of light slicing through the night sky, lighting them up like they were delivering a soliloquy on Broadway. Another chopper raced toward them, its posture aggressive.

  “He’s about to open fire, BD!” shouted Niner as he kept the accelerator floored.

  “Control, if you don’t call them off now, we’re dead!”

  Acton gripped Laura tig
ht, trying to ignore what was about to happen. He had his Laura back, and if they were to die now, at least they would die together. The chopper banked hard to the right, breaking off its attack run and Niner whooped, punching the roof several times.

  “Talk about timing!”

  Dawson gave a thumbs up. “Langley confirms the Federales have cleared us.” He leaned out the window and waved at the chopper still highlighting them, the light turning off a moment later. “Let’s head to the staging area.” Dawson turned around so he could look at them. “We’ve got a plane waiting for you. You’ll be home soon.”

  Laura leaned forward. “We’ve got one stop to make first.”

  Dawson stared at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Did you get a message from a Rosa Carona?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, Langley said they got an update passed through Dean Milton. Thanks to her we knew where to look, or more accurately, when.”

  Laura smiled.

  Good girl.

  She turned to Santana. “Do you know where Rosa Carona lives?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I promised to get her and her family out of here.”

  Dawson cleared his throat. “Can’t that wait?”

  She shook her head. “No, if it weren’t for her, we might all be dead right now.”

  Dawson looked at Santana and jerked a thumb at Niner. “Tell the man where to go.”

  80

  Rosa Carona Residence

  Tepich, Mexico

  Rosa sat in the dark, huddled with her husband and their kids, trembling at the sounds of a major battle not far enough away. The horizon flashed with each explosion, helicopters roaring overhead as sirens blared in the distance. The Federales had arrived, and by the sounds of it, were finally hitting El Jefe’s compound.

  I hope he dies.

  But it meant she no longer had a job, and if he survived, it meant she was dead. She was the last survivor. And there was no way they’d leave her alive.

  A vehicle coming to a rapid halt outside had her heart hammering. There was a firm knock on the door and the children cried out in terror.

  “Rosa, it’s me, Laura!”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and leaped to her feet, rushing toward the door. She yanked it open and cried out, hugging this stranger whom she barely knew.

  “You made it. Your husband? Is he okay?”

  Laura pointed toward the vehicle, a second one pulling up behind them. “Yes. Are you ready?”

  Tears filled Rosa’s eyes. “You’re keeping your promise?”

  Laura smiled. “Of course. Let’s just get you someplace safe first, then you decide where you want to go.”

  Rosa collapsed in her arms and tightly hugged this strange, terrifying woman.

  Thank you, God.

  81

  Universidad Veracruzana Archaeological Site

  South of Tepich, Mexico

  James Acton frowned at the necessary sight. A dozen armed guards patrolled the perimeter of the archaeological site, now appearing to be more of an armed camp than a place of learning. Yet they had no choice. This was too important a find to ignore, but the area was too dangerous to have students work in, unprotected.

  He descended the stairs to the chambers, and a student rushed by, bumping into his leg. He winced.

  “Sorry, señor.”

  Acton dismissed the apology with a wave. “No worries.” His leg was still a little tender from where he had been grazed, but he was in good shape considering. He stepped into the second chamber, finding Laura pouring over the texts, helping Morales translate, more excited than he had seen her in a long time. Reading sat in a chair nearby, sipping a beer.

  “Where the hell did you find that?”

  He shrugged. “I’m on vacation and surrounded by students.”

  Acton chuckled, a new batch of students arriving this morning after the government provided security team had given the all-clear. Laura’s team was on its way to provide supplementary security until things settled down, which could be days, possibly weeks or worse.

  The carnage at the compound had been unreal. Well over one hundred dead. El Jefe was dead, as were most of his men. Galano’s men were slaughtered as well, and he had been arrested, though escaped custody within less than 24 hours, several guards believed to have been bribed to look the other way. He was at large, and Acton had little doubt he’d remain that way.

  The tracker Officer Santana had found had been used to shut down all of El Jefe’s drug labs, and it wouldn’t make a dent in the supply, the void left behind probably already filled by those that remained. Delta had left the same night, on to whatever their next mission was. Santana and his wife had relocated to where their children were in Mexico City, and Rosa and her family were settling in with relatives in the northeast, about as far from here as she could possibly get, Laura having set her up with enough money to give them a fresh start, but not ruin their lives with a sudden windfall.

  So many were dead, so many innocents. And they had almost become part of the statistic. Laura caught him staring at her and smiled. He winked.

  Reading put down his beer. “That’s one hell of a woman you’ve got there.”

  Acton smiled. “Tell me about it. She saved us all. If it weren’t for her, we’d be dead.”

  “Yup. There but for the grace of God…”

  Laura gasped, her hand darting to her mouth.

  “What is it?” Concerned, Acton headed toward his wife, Reading struggling out of his chair to follow.

  She pointed at the table. “This. The last parchment.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s about what happened to the messenger who warned them about the Chinese.”

  Acton’s eyes narrowed. “What? What happened?”

  Laura stared up at him, her eyes filled with tears, then her head fell into his chest.

  82

  Chichen Itza, Maya Empire

  1092 AD

  “Nelli!” Balam Canek cried out the name of the woman he loved as he watched her head tumble down the stone steps of the massive temple, her lifeless body yanked away from the sacrificial altar and tossed over the edge into a pile of bodies below.

  Tears rolled down his cheeks as his vision blurred, his heart hammering hard, blood roaring in his ears. It was all his fault. He should never have allowed her to come with him.

  He had been selfish.

  Perhaps this was his punishment for betraying tradition. A chief was supposed to cast off his former life and start anew for the good of his community, as was the will of the gods. He had defied tradition, defied the will of the gods, and though they continued to bless their subjects with a steady rain, it was clear his blood was also part of their desire.

  And their wrath.

  He felt a hand in his, squeezing it tightly. He stared down at the blue hand, then up at his enemy’s face, the sorrow of the loss of Nelli written in his former enemy’s eyes.

  They were equals now. No longer opposing warriors, no longer enemies. They were both painted in blue, they were the property of the gods, and their moments left on this earth were few.

  “I’m sorry I brought you here.”

  And he meant it. Faced with his impending death, he realized they were all men, they were all equal, no matter where they had come from, or what god they served. In the end, they were the same. They lived, they loved, and they died.

  He wiped his eyes clear and stared down the steps at the head of his beloved, and his chest heaved in agony. The priest motioned at him, and the acolytes grabbed him by the arms, dragging him toward the altar as the crowds below roared their approval. His head was shoved forward, ropes draped over his back and tightened, forcing him flat on the slab of stone, cold and wet from blood.

  He forced his eyes open, twisting his head so he could see Nelli, her dead eyes staring up at him.

  “I’ll be with you soon, my love.”

  The priest ended his prayer.

  And the executioner
grunted.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  The idea for this book came from two different sources. One was from reading years ago about the belief the Chinese had actually visited the Americas long before Columbus, and the other was from reading about the fall of the Mayan Empire. The drought depicted in this book actually did happen, and it did end at some point, though not before irreparably harming the Mayan civilization. The arrival of the Spanish ultimately sealed their fate. The burning of much of their culture, and the pillaging of their treasures, destroyed most hope of ever truly understanding these people.

  That was the history portion of the book, and I loved writing it. For the modern day, with the book having to take place geographically where the Mayans were historically, I was able to have a new villain I hadn’t employed before. No cults, no governments, no terrorists, just straight up greedy criminals. Researching this aspect of things, and reading about the violence involved in the drug trade, was an eye-opener, and this book is dedicated to the victims. I fear tens of thousands, if not more, will die before this is over, if it ever is.

  Now here’s a little trivia item for you. In the book, I make reference to flat foreheads on the Mayans. This is actually a thing! Skeletal remains have found this deformity on far too many skulls for it to not have been commonplace. The theory is that boards were strapped to the heads of babies, when the skull is still soft, reforming the forehead over time.

  Crazy stuff, though I guess no different than the binding of feet that was common practice in China.

  As usual, there are people to thank, though not as many as usual. My father, of course, for all the research, Brent Richards for some military equipment info, Fred Newton for some nautical terminology info, Susan “Miss Boss” Turnbull for a last minute save, and my proofreading team. And, as usual, my wife, daughter, and mother.

  To those who have not already done so, please visit my website at www.jrobertkennedy.com then sign up for the Insider’s Club to be notified of new book releases. Your email address will never be shared or sold, and you’ll only receive the occasional email from me as I don’t have time to spam you!