by CJ Lyons
*
Hector rode with Maria alone in the backseat of one SUV, Caitlyn and Cho crowded in with three of his men in the second one, while the rest secured the clinic. As they raced over the bumpy, twisty road, Cho filled her in on Carrera’s plans for Maria.
“Can you believe it?” he finished. “The man actually thought I’d use a living donor for a heart transplant. Bad enough he kidnapped me—but to lure Maria here just to harvest her organs? He’s crazy. Deluded, paranoid, psychotic—take your pick.”
The way the surgeon kept talking and talking, Caitlyn guessed that most of his captivity had been spent in isolation. His speech was pressured, as if he was now making up for lost time. Not to mention the adrenaline rush of everything that had happened to him.
“Any idea what’s wrong with him?” She’d like to know how volatile Carrera was. Especially as he was heading towards the temple as well.
“I was thinking Huntington’s, given the strange muscle spasms and the neurodegeneration. But I’m not a neurologist, just an overpaid plumber.”
Caitlyn liked Cho. The way he didn’t shrink from a leadership role, the way he’d stepped in to protect Maria when he thought she was in danger.
She struggled to remember the name of the cannibal disease Jake had told her about. “Could it be a form of kuru?” That wasn’t the right disease, Jake had said it was something similar, but hopefully Cho knew what she was talking about. “We know of a patient who received tissue Carrera harvested contracting that.”
“You mean Creutzfeldt-Jakob? That can be spontaneous, especially if you’re genetically prone to it. But—” He stared out the window for a long moment. “—yeah. That could fit. Carrera could have inhaled infected brain tissue or cut himself and been exposed while he was harvesting tissue from an infected patient. Too bad for any patients who got the tissue, but I say it’s poetic justice as far as he’s concerned. He’s been like a cannibal preying on those women—driving some of them mad, I’m certain they all didn’t start out that way, and after they came to him for help. Let him die of a cannibal’s disease. It’s a horrible, awful death.”
Cho didn’t sound very distressed by the prospect. More like he approved of Carrera’s fate.
The man beside the driver held his radio to his ear, then turned around to the guard with Caitlyn and Cho, relaying a message in Spanish. Caitlyn wished she knew what they were saying. Cho leaned close, as if a bump in the road had thrown him off balance and whispered, “They’ve lost contact with their men at the temple. Is that good or bad?”
Jake. She smiled. Knew she could count on him to take care of business. “It’s good news. Very good news.”
“Does it mean Maria’s out of danger? I don’t trust her father.”
“I think Maria’s safe. Not so sure about us. Just follow my lead.”
He frowned but nodded. They spun around a steep curve, splashing through mud, and Caitlyn saw the blackened remains of their helicopter sitting in the middle of a small cleared cornfield. A few more turns and they stopped.
Hector’s men climbed out and gestured for Caitlyn and Cho to join them. The road had dead-ended in the middle of the jungle, no obvious landmarks except for a steep hill that loomed over them.
Maria’s temple, at long last.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
When Jake and Michael reached the temple’s entrance, Hector’s men were gone. Jake cursed. Were they outside, watching the perimeter? If so, then he and Michael would be totally exposed and vulnerable once they entered the temple.
Were they inside, still placing the charges? Or had they finished, received word to blow the charges, and evacuated to a safe distance?
Any of the three could add up to very bad news.
Nothing to do but complete his mission and try to keep the kid alive. He only hoped Caitlyn was having better luck at the clinic.
Up close, the temple’s entrance was imposing. The limestone walls were carved with intricate designs, some that sparked scarlet and gold where the light filtered through the trees to strike them.
“Cinnabar mixed with gold flakes,” Michael whispered, tracing one of the hieroglyphs with his finger. “Can you imagine how the temple appeared before the plants covered it? When the sun hit it, it would have been like a blaze of fire in the middle of the jungle.”
Jake was more concerned about what awaited them inside. The entrance had an inverted triangular ceiling and the floor was irregular, sloping up into the darkness. As they climbed inside, he realized that the ground was unsteady, like walking through gravel or pebbles. Part of the damage from the earthquake, he guessed. It made for slow and noisy going.
They made it past the first archway, and the tunnel branched to travel around the perimeter of the temple as well as leading deeper inside. There was a surprising amount of light filtered down from openings overhead along the outside wall. Clever. Even with the overgrowth of jungle outside, the air smelled fresh and although it was dark, it wasn’t impenetrable. Large vines and tree roots had forced their way down through the openings, creating a vertical carpet of organic flesh.
“Which way?” he whispered to Michael.
“Straight to the cenote.”
Sound traveled strangely, the farther inside they ventured. The debris underfoot changed to solid limestone, muffling their footsteps. The call of birds were audible through the air holes and small tunnels that acted like ductwork leading from the temple’s interior to the outside world. The engineering was fascinating, as were the glimpses of more murals and carvings, but Jake had to stay focused on locating Hector’s men.
They came to a second intersection. This one was guarded by a five-foot-high carving of a bat, its wings spread wide and fangs bared. It was darker and quieter here. Jake realized that not only had they journeyed deeper into the heart of the temple, they’d also traveled down, underground.
“The bat symbolizes the entrance to the underworld,” Michael whispered. “The tunnel gets smaller, forces you to bow your head in homage to Chaac.”
Jake passed the bat and climbed into the next tunnel. Bow your head was a relative term, he soon discovered. The ancient Mayans must have been a lot shorter than he was. Finally he was reduced to duck-walking through the small passage, trying to ignore the claustrophobic constraints of the tunnel. He thought about having Michael turn on the lantern but was afraid the limestone tunnel would reflect and amplify the light, announcing their position to anyone waiting at the far end.
Finally they emerged onto a ledge leading out to a large cavern. They were at the heart of the temple, the walls soaring up several levels, each lined with openings, until they reached the skylight at the top. Vines and roots hung from the openings, some reaching several stories down, traveling past the ledge he and Michael were on, going down, down, seeking water.
Jake could make out the water line etched into the limestone, maybe thirty feet down from where they stood. But there was no water there now. Instead it had receded down another twenty feet, where it twinkled in the faint light. Not just water reflecting the light, he realized, but glints of gold and the stark white of human bones.
They’d found their mass grave.
At this level, the cenote was about thirty feet in diameter, the ledge they stood on running its circumference. Thanks to the thick tapestry of vines and tree roots, there were plenty of places to hide along the outer wall of the chamber. No one was visible, but the air was eerily quiet. Strange, because he’d expect birds and smaller animals to be living in here, sheltered from the jungle predators.
Jake motioned for Michael to follow him as he edged behind an outcropping. It would make a safe place to ditch the kid while he searched for the explosive charges. “Stay here and be quiet,” he told Michael, who merely nodded.
Jake inched his way to the edge of the cenote and looked down. There were more ledges below. Across from his position was a stone staircase leading down to them. On the next level down, almost immediately below him so Jake hadn
’t seen him at first, one of Hector’s men was kneeling, positioning several bricks of C-4. More than enough to bring down the temple. And Jake was certain it wouldn’t be their only charge.
He debated how to best get the jump on the guy. His current position, directly overhead, offered concealment, but he was too far to do anything but shoot the guy—which would alert his partner. He decided to instead circle to the top of the staircase and wait to ambush the guy when he climbed out of the cenote.
Jake sidled around the chamber’s outer edge, keeping his back to the large stone gargoyle-like carvings and hiding behind the vegetation when possible. There were four tunnels leading into the chamber, one at each compass point. No way to tell which of them the second man might come through. Jake reached the first one, saw no sign of movement in the irregular shadows inside, and crossed it. He was almost at the top of the stairs when a small, muffled cry came from behind him.
He whirled, AK-47 raised.
Hector’s second man stood, a knife held to Michael’s throat. He shouted something in Spanish. Jake shrugged, stalling for time. He didn’t have a shot, not from this angle. He sidled to the side.
The man shouted again, this time in English. “I’ll kill him!”
Jake had to decide. Michael’s life or the lives of the villagers trapped below the church. He shifted his weight and aimed to cover the man below him, the one setting the C-4. “Drop it or I’ll kill your partner.”
The man below was exposed, no cover in sight, so he lunged for his rifle. Jake aimed a salvo that hit the limestone inches from the man’s hand.
Suddenly the cavern filled with thousands of whirling, screeching bats, so many that they blocked the light from above as they dived, aiming for Jake. The air thrumped with the vibration of thousands of wings as the bats swarmed past him—some of them so close, their claws brushed his hair. He flung himself onto the ground as the bats turned into a cyclone of black circling around the cavern, desperate for escape.
Just as the air cleared, the bats swarming out through the tunnels, a shot rang out.
Jake leapt to his feet, AK-47 in his hands, searching for the origin of the gunshot. Hector’s man down in the cavern had ducked for cover beneath the rock outcropping, so it wasn’t him. Jake swung back to where he’d last seen Michael and the other soldier from Hector’s squad.
Michael wasn’t there. The soldier lay facedown on the ground, head blown open. And an older man stood at the tunnel opening, holding a large semiautomatic pistol.
“Drop the weapon,” the man commanded.
Michael stepped from his hiding place behind a curtain of tree roots. “Father. What are you doing here?”
“I came to save you.” The older man didn’t lower his weapon, keeping Jake in his sights.
“Dr. Carrera?” Jake called, putting two and two together. The man down below began creeping up the steps to the ledge where Jake was. Jake wasn’t sure whether to warn Carrera or let Hector’s man take Carrera down—except that would leave Jake caught in the crossfire. “I’m Jake Carver with the FBI. I came here to help.”
“We don’t need your help!” Carrera shouted. “Put the gun down.”
Hector’s man was almost to the top. Jake crouched to lower his AK-47. As he did, Carrera spotted the man behind him and another shot blasted through the cavern. Hector’s man fell from the steps, falling, falling, falling until he landed in the shallow waters below. Jake peered over the edge. The man was dead, not moving as he lay facedown among pieces of skeletons bobbing around him, blood blossoming on the jade green water.
Slowly, Jake straightened. Carrera waved at him to back away from the AK-47. For a second Jake thought Carrera was going to shoot him. He met the doctor’s gaze, tried to gauge the man responsible for the deaths of hundreds—what was one more? Jake wondered if he’d be better off taking a chance with a leap into the cenote.
Michael saved him. The kid moved to stand in front of Carrera, stare him down. “I never asked for your help. I don’t want it. Not at this price.”
To Jake’s surprise, Carrera lowered his pistol, face twisted as if he were near tears. “Michael. My son. You never have to ask. No price is too high to save my son. Can’t you understand that?”
Michael shook his head. He backed away, hands spread wide, palms up, as if he weighed his father’s words. “No, Father. I won’t let you do this.”
“Michael, stop!” Carrera shouted as the kid approached the edge of the cenote.
“Not until you promise to give yourself up. Get help. Father, you’re sick, terribly sick.” Michael was so close to the edge that bits of limestone crumbled beneath his heels, tumbling into the chasm behind him.
“Michael, come back. Away from the edge. We can discuss this.”
“No. Not until you promise me—” Michael’s face contorted with pain. He gasped for air.
Jake watched in horror as Michael’s balance wavered. He was closer than Carrera, so he rushed the kid, grabbing him just as he was about to collapse into the pit.
The kid was pale, his lips dusky, breath coming in short, tight gasps.
Carrera ran to join him. “Michael!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Maria stared at the temple’s entrance. Brilliant blue butterflies hovered in an iridescent cloud, a sight conjured from a fairy tale. As if this wasn’t real.
But it was. Her temple was real.
The light glinted off something in the dirt at her feet. She bent down. A piece of jade inlaid with gold, the size of her thumb. Thousands of years old and just waiting here. For her.
She felt giddy. Started to race inside, but her father grabbed her arm. “Stay in the car, Maria.”
“No. I have to see—”
A noise like thunder cracked through the air. But it didn’t stop. Not thunder, Maria realized as the blue sky clouded black with the crashing of thousands and thousands of beating wings. Thousands, maybe millions of bats poured out from the temple through air holes along the sides; then a stream of them roared through the entrance before her. Their wings were like drums pounding the air as they shrieked past.
The men raised their weapons but quickly realized the futility and instead covered their heads. Maria ducked, arms over her hair—what if one of the bats got tangled in it? The sky grew dark and she couldn’t see anything as she ran.
Caitlyn, the FBI agent, caught up with her. “You okay?” she asked, pulling Maria out of the path of the bats and into the shadow of a palm tree.
Maria nodded.
“Stay here.” Caitlyn ignored the bats and picked her way through the undergrowth, past Maria’s father and his men, heading into the temple. No way was Maria going to miss going inside, not after everything she’d been through. Besides, Michael was in there somewhere with his crazy father.
She followed Caitlyn’s footsteps. Crossing into the land of her dreams.
She hadn’t gone far when a hand touched her from behind. Maria yelped and jumped. It was Kevin.
“Hurry,” he whispered. “Your dad is right behind us.”
“What about his men?”
“He said something about a perimeter guard.” In the eerie green-hued light of the tunnel, Kevin looked worried. “I don’t think he realizes I speak Spanish. He told them not to let anyone out alive. That’s when I ran in here after you.”
“You misunderstood, I’m sure.” She hoped. Wished. Once upon a time her father was the bedrock her world was built on. Suddenly in the past few days, she’d begun to question everything and that foundation was crumbling.
If her entire life was a lie, then what did she have left to stand on? To believe in?
She was glad when Kevin took her hand and led the way through the tunnel. It wasn’t as dark as she thought—clever architects had allowed for vents to pull in natural light and fresh air—but it was still very claustrophobic, especially when they reached the final tunnel.
It opened up onto the cenote at the heart of the temple, just as she knew it woul
d. She looked over Kevin’s shoulder, her pulse thrumming in anticipation. But instead of finding treasure and the archeological discovery of a lifetime, she saw Michael, lying on the ground, not moving, with a stranger and Caitlyn hovering over him.
Kevin ran to Michael, leaving Maria behind. A man’s hand grabbed her arm, hauling her from the tunnel and jabbing a pistol to her head.
Dr. Carrera had found her at last.
*
“Save my son, Dr. Cho!” Carrera shouted. “Or the girl dies.”
Caitlyn stood, putting herself between Carrera and Jake and the civilians. “Dr. Carrera, let her go. We’ll do everything we can to help your son. I promise.”
As she spoke, she circled the edge of the cliff, gaining ground on Carrera. His eyes were wild, his gaze jerking in all directions, and she had the feeling he didn’t hear her, but instead was listening to voices inside his head. The man truly was insane.
Suddenly he turned his pistol from Maria to aim at Caitlyn. Before she could move, he fired. It didn’t hit her, but it ricocheted off a boulder near her, a splinter of stone striking her head.
“Down on the ground,” he ordered.
Caitlyn obeyed and dropped to the ground. Blood smeared her hand when she touched her head, but it wasn’t too much. Stung like hell, though. She turned her face to look at Jake, who was across the chasm, shaking her head at him when he looked ready to spring to her rescue.
He gave her a small nod and sat back, ready to make a move when she gave him the sign.
By now Carrera had marched Maria to the edge of the cliff, the curve of the gaping abyss between him and Caitlyn. Jake could circle around from the opposite side if she could create a diversion, take Carrera’s attention away from that side of the pit.
“If Michael dies, so does she,” he called, his words echoing through the chamber.
Before Caitlyn could do anything, Hector Alvarado stormed into the cavern. “Let her go!” he shouted, aiming his weapon at Carrera.