by Alex Lukeman
Selena became acutely aware of the sounds all around them, a constant murmur of life that never ceased. The jungle had it's own voice. Chattering birds. Sounds she couldn't identify. Insects. The hum of mosquitoes grew louder. She wiped sweat away. Her hand came away smeared with green camouflage paint. She drank some more water.
"All right," Nick said. "Whoever is here has to be hostile."
He looked at Selena. She still needs looking out for. "We'll get close and scout the area and play it by ear," he said to her. "Follow our lead, you'll be fine. Watch your back."
She nodded.
"Let's go."
Ronnie led them down the trail. After another ten minutes, he signaled. Ahead, the dark mass of the pyramid rose through the trees.
"That's it," Nick said. His voice was very quiet. "Get off the trail. Selena, watch the noise."
They moved off the trail and crept through the foliage. Selena saw a tiny frog jump from a broad leaf. A brown spider as big as her fist scuttled away underfoot. She shuddered. They came to the edge of what had been a wide plaza in front of the Mayan ruin. She peered out through the leaves. The uneven pavement of the plaza was twisted and broken where trees had pushed up through the stones.
The pyramid rose high into the canopy overhead. The passage of time had not been kind. The stones were stained dark by the rains of centuries. Tall trees pushed up against it. Carvings of faces and serpents peered out from behind the jungle growth. Tangled vines with thick trunks and deep green leaves blurred the outlines of crumbling stone ledges. A steep set of steps ran up the center of the ruin from the plaza to a stone altar and a square-shaped temple on the peak.
At the foot of the steps were two tents. Two men stood by one of them, talking and laughing. They were dressed in dull green. Not an official uniform. Not civilian clothes. They were armed.
"They're carrying AN-94s," Ronnie said. "How the hell do they get those?"
The AN-94 was Russia's newest assault rifle, a highly advanced weapon. 5.45 mm, with a radical design that fired two rounds at a time and minimized recoil. The shooter had trigger selection to control the rate of fire, from 600 to 1800 rounds per minute. Production problems and a Kremlin hard up for cash meant only elite forces had access to them. Their presence in the Yucatan proved high level government involvement.
"I don't think those guys are archeologists," Lamont said.
Selena listened. "They're speaking Russian."
"What are they saying?"
"Something about a woman called Nadia." She listened. Her face tightened. "They're pigs. They raped her. They're laughing about it."
A radio squawked. One of the men spoke into a shoulder microphone.
"They've found something," Selena said. "Whatever they were looking for."
Three men emerged from the doorway at the top of the ruin. One held something wrapped in cloth up over his head, grinning. He shouted something. The three started down the steps leading to the plaza.
"How you want to do it?" Lamont brushed a mosquito away. The men had reached the half way point in their descent.
"Wait until they're almost at the bottom," Nick said. "Then hit them."
Selena rubbed her nose.
"Try to keep one alive," he said.
Then Selena sneezed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Malcolm Foxworth's villa in Tuscany was built on terraces cut into the steep slope of a rugged promontory jutting out into the Arno River. A narrow road wound down the side of a small mountain and ended at a set of formidable iron gates. Twelve foot high walls topped with glass shards surrounded three sides of the property.
The river side was dominated by a massive stone landing. Behind it was a channel leading from the river to a boat house under the villa. Entry to the boat house was blocked by steel gates. Two neo-classical statues of Roman gods stood guard on the ends of the pier. An elegant stone railing followed a long flight of steps and landings leading up from the river to the main house.
The villa was old. It was large, four stories high. Two narrow, pointed towers flanked one end, commanding a view of the river. Above the main building more steps rose to a second building and then to the level of the landside entry, where there was a large paved courtyard and another three story structure that housed the guards and the villa staff.
The walls glowed yellow in the welcoming Tuscan sunlight. The villa with its red tile roofs by the river looked like a vacation dream of Italy. No one could have guessed the kinds of dreams that took place within those picture perfect walls.
Doctor Morel put the syringe back in his case and closed it. Foxworth felt the pain ease. Lately the headaches were much worse. More frequent.
"Send Healy in," he said.
"Of course, Malcolm."
Morel picked up his case and left. A moment later Foxworth's chief of security came into the room. He looked calm, but Foxworth was a master at reading people. He knew Healy was nervous. As he should be.
"You fucked up again, Healy."
"The team in Mafra were good. It should have been enough."
Foxworth waited. He drew the silence out, let Healy sweat. Finally he said, "All right. Harker's people are damn good. But there better not be any more problems. Give me a progress report."
"There's a sealed room at the top of the pyramid. They're working to get into it. If there's anything there, that's where it will be. Aside from that, it's just another pile of stone."
"How are Ogorov's men performing?"
Healy shrugged. "They follow orders. It was Ogorov's people that got it in Portugal. You give me the men I want, we'll be better off."
"No. There are too many leaks in the mercenary groups. Too many ears. Besides, I tried it your way in California and Washington. Ogorov's men are trained and they're not on the radar."
"Whatever you say, sir."
"That's right. Whatever I say. Keep me informed." Healy turned to go.
"Find Mandy and send her in."
"Yes, sir."
He watched Healy shut the door behind him and thought about Mandy.
Damn the woman. It had been a long time since he'd let a woman get under his skin. She was like a drug, like one of Morel's concoctions. It wasn't just the sex, though Mandy was inventive and enthusiastic. She was smart. She did her job well in her official capacity as his assistant. She was brilliant at sensing when someone was lying, an extremely useful asset. Probably because she was such a good liar herself.
She was having an affair with Healy. Foxworth was almost ready to do something about it. Healy had been making mistakes. Mandy was one mistake too many.
Foxworth didn't love Mandy. He wasn't sure what love meant. But he needed her, he was sure about that. As long as he kept her satisfied with the trinkets his fortune could buy and gave her freedom for the occasional affair, she'd stay. But Healy was too close to home. He couldn't allow it to go on much longer.
As Healy went to find Mandy he thought about Foxworth. The arrogant son of a bitch. He wouldn't last a second in a firefight. He walked through the villa looking for her and found her on the garden terrace. She sat at a table, sipping something red with ice in it.
"He wants you," Healy said.
Mandy Atherton wore a designer dress of pale blue silk that highlighted her unusual beauty. Anyone could see why she had graced the covers of every important fashion magazine in the world. Around her throat was a chased gold choker of diamonds and sapphires. The sapphires and the dress picked up the color of her eyes. The hard white gleam of the diamonds went with something unseen inside her.
A light breeze from the river sent ripples through her long black hair. It shone with highlights in the Tuscan sun. Healy felt himself stiffen.
Damn, he wanted her.
Mandy saw the bulge in his trousers and laughed. "Better hadn't let Malcolm see that."
"He doesn't produce the same effect."
She stood. "We have to be careful for a while. I think he's getting suspicious."
> "One day I'm going to kill the bastard."
"Kill the golden goose? I don't think so." She fingered the jeweled choker. "At least not until you can provide the same benefits. And we both know that isn't going to happen, don't we?"
"You're a greedy bitch, Mandy."
"No, darling. Just practical. Be grateful for what I can give you." She gave him a peck on the cheek. He wanted to choke her.
"I'll go see what the great man wants."
Healy watched the movement of her body under the dress as she walked away. He'd never had a woman tie up his mind like Mandy did. One of these days he would do something about Malcolm.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Selena's sneeze echoed across the plaza. Birds flew shrieking into the air. The figures on the steps froze. One of the men near the tents shouted something and swept his rifle up and began firing blindly in their direction. A storm of bullets ripped through the leaves over their heads with a sound like the world tearing apart.
To Selena, everything happened at once. Ronnie, Lamont and Nick opened fire. The men near the tent shot into the jungle. The others scrambled down the last steps. Two of them unslung their rifles and fired. Selena brought her MP-5 up, felt herself pull the trigger, watched one of the figures by the tent fly backwards from the impact of her rounds. The men on the steps reached the ground and scattered to both sides. The man carrying the bundle ran around the corner of the ruin. Chips flew from the stones behind him. He disappeared into the trees.
She felt the recoil of her gun. Some piece of her noted the empty shells flying into the air. The bolt of her MP-5 clacked on an empty chamber. She reached for a magazine.
Something hit her hard, low on the right side. The blow spun her around and knocked her onto the moist jungle floor, face down in the dirt and leaves. For a second she felt nothing, then deep, frightening pain that cut through her. She gasped, unable to call out. There was liquid warmth under her clothes.
She was vaguely aware the noise of the guns had stopped. Nick knelt over her. He was saying something. His voice faded in and out.
"Selena," he was saying. "Selena, stay with me."
She tried to speak. Then the world went black.
Nick fought down his panic. He held his hand against the wound and looked at Ronnie. Blood welled between his fingers.
"She's hit bad. Get a kit. Lamont, call Harker. Get a chopper."
"They can't make it in here. We'll have to go back to the truck."
"No time. Tell them to home in on our beacon and drop a litter and a medic through the canopy. We don't get her to a hospital fast, she'll die."
I forgot the fucking vests. This is my fault. My fault. One fucking round.
Selena was unconscious. Nick reached around her back and felt for an exit wound. The high-velocity round had gone through and come out the other side. He pressed his hands against the wounds. The flow of blood through his fingers was a steady trickle.
"God damn it, Ronnie, hurry up."
Ronnie cut her shirt away. The 5.4mm round had made a small, red hole in her abdomen, then ripped out through her back. Blood flowed from the wounds.
Ronnie applied pressure bandages. Neither man spoke. She wouldn't live if the bullet had clipped an artery. She might live if they got her to a hospital in time. They'd both seen wounds like this before. They both knew she might not make it.
"The bleeding's slowed," Ronnie said. "Nothing to do but wait for the bird."
"Chopper's on the way," Lamont said. "Twenty minutes."
"We didn't get them all," Ronnie said. "The guy carrying something got away."
Nick cradled Selena's head in his bloody hands. He made an effort to focus.
"He's here somewhere. Watch out in case he thinks he's a hero. Search the bodies. See if there's anything that will help us ID them. Grab one of those AN-94s. Once Selena's safe, we'll figure out what they were doing here. "
He looked up at the indifferent green canopy above.
"I hate jungles," he said.
Selena's face was an unnatural white, her eyes slightly open. Her breasts rose and fell in labored gasps.
Christ, I'm losing her.
"Don't give up," he whispered. "You can do it, help's coming. You'll be all right. Don't give up."
You forgot the vests. He waited for the sound of the helicopter, his mind black with guilt.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The atmosphere in Harker's office was depressing.
"After we got her out." Nick stopped, began again. "After the chopper left, we climbed the steps. There was a temple at the top and a second room inside, sealed up a long time ago. Maybe when the Spaniards were coming. The bad guys broke it open. It took them a while. The walls were three feet thick, solid stone."
Harker began tapping, impatient.
"We found an altar in there, made of jade and inlaid with turquoise and gold. A round shaft goes right through the middle and down into the pyramid. I dropped a rock into it and never heard it hit bottom. There was a hole in the roof over the platform, same size, circular. Perfectly lined up with the shaft."
"Go on."
"Everything was black with mold and stained from the rains, but you could see where there'd been something on the altar, right over that shaft. One of the bad guys got away. He took whatever it was with him. There was a lot of gold, but they didn't bother with it."
"I wonder what was more important than gold?"
Ronnie said, "We got back to the truck and found it shot up. You're going to hear about it. The Consul wasn't happy."
Harker's pen beat a nervous tattoo on her desk. Time to deal with the elephant in the room.
"About Selena," she said. "She's stable, but the round clipped a vertebra. A bone fragment is pressing against the spinal cord. It has to be removed. She's been airlifted to Bethesda."
"She's here?" Nick said.
"Yes. They're going to operate today." She paused. "It's risky. The doctors say she could end up paralyzed from the waist down. They won't know until after the surgery."
Nick felt something clench in his gut. "It's my fault."
Ronnie shook his head. "Come on, Nick. She sneezed. They heard it." He shrugged. "Like they say, shit happens."
"That doesn't help. I fucked up. I forgot to pack the vests. She'd been wearing one, she'd be all right."
Harker's pen stopped moving. "Nick. I need to know you've got your head on straight."
He took a deep breath. "Don't worry. I can handle it. I want to get the bastard behind this. Foxworth. And his Russian buddy, Ogorov. Who else could have provided those weapons?"
"That's what I want to talk about today. You might get your chance. I met with General Vysotsky while you were in Mexico. We're considering a joint operation."
"In Russia?"
"Not yet. He has to be careful about moving against Ogorov."
"If we don't have to go to Russia, why do we need Vysotsky?"
"He needs evidence Ogorov is a traitor. Vysotsky still isn't convinced Ogorov is part of AEON."
"What does he have in mind?"
"Foxworth is in Italy. He always spends a month there this time of year. Vysotsky wants us to raid Foxworth's villa and he wants Major Korov to go with you. He's looking for proof. If Korov is with you, he'll trust whatever you find."
Nick smiled for the first time since Selena had been shot. "Korov? That would work."
Korov was part of Zaslon, under Vysotsky's command. Nick respected and liked him, even if he was technically an enemy. In Texas, he'd helped carry Ronnie out under heavy fire.
"This isn't just another raid," Elizabeth said. "I should go to the President with it. Foxworth is too important, too powerful. It could backfire."
"If you go to Rice he'll say no." Nick tugged on his ear. He thought of Selena. "He doesn't need to know about this. We can make Foxworth talk."
The coldness in his voice made them all look at him.
"What are you staring at? You know I'm right."
They waited for Harker to think it over. After a moment she said, "All right, we'll do it. I'll set it up. Everyone go home and get some rest."
"What are the rules of engagement?" Nick asked. "With Foxworth?"
"We can't kill him. I'm warning you, Nick. This isn't about vengeance."
"What if he resists? With deadly force?"
"That's different."
Nick smiled for the second time that day.
CHAPTER FORTY
Major Arkady Korov was dressed in civilian clothes, but he would have been recognized as a professional soldier anywhere in the world. Korov's life had been spent in the military. He was just over six feet tall. His eyes were blue like arctic sky, his short hair blonde. His face was square, with a trace of reddish shadow on his jaw. He had a small, crescent shaped scar on his chin.
Korov had been summoned to Vysotsky's office. He stood at attention in front of the General's wide desk.
"You are going to Italy, Arkady." Vysotsky opened a drawer, took out a bottle of Vodka and two glasses. "Sit." He gestured at a chair.
"Sir." Korov sat. Vysotsky poured, handed him a glass.
"Na Zdrov'nya."
"Na Zdrov'nya."
They emptied the glasses. Vysotsky poured another and sat back. "You will work with the Americans again."
"The Project?"
"Yes. This is a mission of highest secrecy. There must be no hint of your involvement."
Arkady noticed the choice of words. Your involvement. Your, not our. It meant he was on his own if anything happened.
"I understand. What are my orders?"
"You will meet Harker's team in Florence. They will provide weapons and logistical support. The target is a man called Foxworth. Harker says he is the leader of AEON, the group that was behind the CIA conspiracy against us. She says Ogorov acts on Foxworth's orders."
"Why is she telling you this?"
"She's worried. She showed me proof something secret is happening here and she thinks AEON is behind it. It is as before, there is a threat to both our nations. Or so Harker believes. I have looked for myself. There is a significant project, but I find no official authorization, no records. Harker says it is Ogorov. Your orders are to try and confirm his association with Foxworth and AEON."