Murder on Masaya (Kea Wright Mysteries Book 3)

by RJ Corgan

  “I’m not certain,” Kea continued, “but I imagine that when Carlos disabled the Wi-Fi to cut the cameras, the trigger on the splitter must have accidentally activated. The fall missed you and took out Emilio and the Canadians instead, and almost everyone else in the process. I suspect you worked that out afterward. That’s why you tried to kill Luis on the climb up the rockfall, why you sabotaged Daniela’s line.”

  For a long moment, Dominic said nothing, but when he spoke, his voice was cracked and broken. “Was everyone in on it?”

  “Not Daniela or the Canadians, but yes, everyone else on Delta level.” Splayed out on the rock, Kea sensed Masaya’s rumble reverberate through her, as if she were part of the mountain. The connection was oddly peaceful. Ever since she had fallen ill, she had felt more like one of the friars from Maria’s story, constantly on the run, trying to escape. Yet even as her tendons stretched so tight it felt like her arms might snap, all she wanted to do was sleep.

  I’m too tired to even be afraid of a goddess.

  “Kea, please pull me up!”

  “We needed to keep you around, after the raid on the university, to keep an eye on you.” Kea was rambling now, but what did it matter? “Josine suggested dating you, to keep you close. Emilio offered to connect with Salvar la Tierra and fed you just enough information to keep your handlers happy.” As her grip faltered, she searched for Masaya’s face in the smoke, hoping for a sign.

  Dominic would never go to trial in this country, Luis had explained. He would never face charges. He would get away with everything, and worst of all, he’d make sure all their friends would go to prison, or worse.

  “When Daniela’s call came in that Emilio was stalling for time, probably to keep you down there, I knew something was wrong. I thought I could do this,” Kea continued. “I had volunteered to serve as cleanup crew, the backup plan to finish it, in case anything went wrong. Then Ling showed up and everything fell apart.”

  Kea hadn’t wanted to know everything because she was such a terrible liar. She couldn’t hide anything from the authorities.

  I can’t even lie about my age on Tinder.

  “Kea!”

  “Do you know, now that it comes down to it, I don’t think I can do it?” Kea found that she was laughing again, a sad chuckle as she realized she had failed at something else.

  Dominic must have lost his foothold then because it felt as if his full weight was on the straps. The resulting pain was so great, she knew she couldn’t hold on to both Dominic and her grip on the ledge any longer, yet she didn’t have the strength to pull him up.

  I can’t live with myself if I let him die and if he survives, my friends may not live. He will make sure of that.

  In the end, she had only one choice.

  With her arm outstretched, she smiled sadly at the semicolon she’d gotten tattooed on her own arm that night with Alisha.

  I am the author of my own story, Kea thought, and I’m going to decide how it ends.

  Kea let go.

  As the van swerved its way down the long road that led out of the park, Ling sat in the passenger seat, paging through files on her tablet. While Alisha’s name was mentioned in association with the protests several years ago, there was nothing in the open press regarding her fate. Qīngxī de yǐngxiàng, however, had access to classified government communiques that mentioned her name. Flicking through the files, Ling was able to read between the lines; the woman had been used, disposed of, and erased.

  Ling tapped a fingernail on the screen of her tablet, lost in thought. Outside the window, the massive bulk of the mountain loomed in the distance. Somewhere inside, the rescuers were still lifting out the survivors, racing against a ticking clock.

  Qīngxī de yǐngxiàng’s intercepts also contained references to a source inside the university, one who provided intel on the protestors’ activities. While the files did not link a name to their source, Ling could guess. The body language of the team members spoke volumes, so tight knit, so protective. But there was one person who the others kept at a constant distance. She would have missed it, were it not for Josine flinching at Dominic touching her uninjured leg – not in pain, but in disgust.

  Interesting.

  She tapped her earpiece to dial Deshi.

  “Be quick,” he answered, “this place is crawling with Policía. What have you got?”

  “I’ve discovered the aberration driving the teams’ dysfunctional behavior.” Ling paused as a notification flashed on her screen. Sharvil was using the messenger app to shunt a file to her. She opened the link. A five-second loop of two figures falling into the crater played on her screen.

  She swore softly.

  “Yes,” Deshi breathed. “We saw that too.”

  Ling paused the footage in mid-frame. The camera was too far away to discern much, leaving Ling to guess at Kea’s expression just before she fell from the ledge.

  “What did you discover?”

  Ling still had Alisha’s file open. The young woman’s eyes stared back, two deep brown eyes that demanded her attention.

  Ling took a moment to collect her thoughts. “It was an old personnel matter, but nothing to concern us. I have no doubt financial links to Salvar la Tierra existed between some members of the team, but nothing that you wouldn’t expect from climbers and environmental scientists. I suggest we redirect our attention to other avenues.” She pressed the ‘Close’ button to sweep the files from her screen.

  Ling sat back in her seat as Masaya receded into the distance.

  Epilogue

  The crowds were always thickest in the park late in the evenings, when tourists gathered round the crater rim to stare into Masaya’s fire, but tonight was special. The parking lot at the top of Santiago’s crater was so packed that many were forced to make the long walk from the park entrance, winding their way up the mountain in droves.

  Thousands of Emilio’s fans had traveled from all over the world to attend the funeral. Some were emotionally devastated, while others saw it as an excuse to go to an exotic destination – or a combination of both.

  The throngs lined the crater’s edge, a row of silhouettes illuminated by the fires below. Emilio’s family had spared no expense – with no body to bury and no ashes, a podium had been erected on the edge of the crater, flanked by an orchestra and food tents. Members of Nicaragua’s elite gave their speeches as dozens of drones performed intricate acrobatics in the skies before finally plummeting into the fires as a grand finale.

  Carter watched all of this from a survey station away from the crowd where Shona had taken them to watch the spectacle. The activity in the magma chamber had subsided without warning. Even the sulfur plumes were barely a wisp. As always, Masaya defied expectations.

  Or perhaps, Carter considered, Maria’s more fantastical explanation may have more merit; the fickle goddess had been appeased by the sacrifice.

  The protests had faded after a show of force from the government, although it would be a long time before the canal was operational again.

  Maria and a number of the other graduate students had fled the country. A car had been waiting to take them to the Mosquito Coast, no doubt to a plane or a boat out of Bluefields to the Caribbean.

  “If you’re going to plan,” Shona had said, “plan in depth.”

  Unable to hear the words being said across the crater, they sat along the cliff’s edge, quietly watching the plumes rise. The edges of the billowing clouds were lit by the amber touch of the setting sun. The parrots, so noisy during the day, had settled into the crater walls. Even the vultures seemed to respect the moment and remained huddled in their nests. The bats, no doubt, were plotting their escape into the night skies, but for the time being, the only sound in the crater was the rumbling of the lava below.

  Jacob was still working on the slopes of Masaya, directing an excavator to open the collapsed lava tube. When Carter had asked him why, Jacob had said something about freeing the bats, although Shona stood behind him and
shook her head sadly.

  Carter understood. Jacob was trying to do something, anything. It didn’t matter if it was hopeless, it was still something.

  They had all watched Kea’s death unfold via the news cameras. The plume had shifted enough for them to see Kea and Dominic fall from the cliff into Masaya’s depths.

  That had been nearly a week ago, yet Carter was still no closer to processing it. He huddled under a hooded sweatshirt for warmth, his hands stuffed into its pockets. The others stood around in silence. “Should we say something?”

  Carlos nodded. “I don’t think Kea would have wanted us to say much.”

  “She’d be lying,” Carter mumbled. “She’d want mourners, a golden casket and a thousand distraught ex-lovers prostrating themselves on the ground.” He considered his own words for a moment. “But I think you’re right. She’d lie and say she didn’t want a fuss.”

  In some ways, Kea got her wish. While there would be a ceremony in San Diego for her friends, and another funeral in Ottawa for the Canadians, no one from Masaya felt comfortable attending.

  Too many awkward questions.

  One by one, each member threw a beautiful white pin-wheel shaped bloom into the pit. Daniela had brought them, insisting that the Sacuanjoche was Kea’s favorite bloom. The petals fluttered and skittered atop the thermals as they sailed down into the fire.

  Once everyone had said their goodbyes to everyone they had lost, the team made their way back across Nindiri’s plain to return to the parking lot.

  Carter was the last to leave, his hands fumbling inside the pouch of his sweatshirt as he listened to the fluttering of bats flying into the night sky to begin their hunt. The beating of their wings grew into a roar, so great were the numbers, deafening all other noises.

  He sensed, rather than heard, the presence of the new arrival.

  “I got your message.”

  Carter turned to face Amirah. Kea had shown him a photograph of her supervisor, but he was struck by Amirah’s appearance as she strode toward him. The loose folds of her burnt orange kaftan fluttered in the light breeze of Masaya’s breath and the gold bracelets on her wrists matched the necklaces encircling her long neck. Her face was hidden by the silk scarf that she had fashioned into a veil, but he could see her eyes watching him carefully.

  “You’re an interesting man, Carter. Pirate Treasure Hunting in the 21st century is an interesting read.”

  “I haven’t finished writing it yet.”

  Amirah shrugged. “Cloud storage can be a funny thing – you never really know where your data is. It could be on a server in Chicago or floating around the ether in Jakarta ... I like how you tied your thesis to a real-life example. We were watching your adventures in Bluefields Bay last week.”

  Carter let out a sigh. “Kea said you were watching every move she made. I admit, I thought she was being overly paranoid.”

  “Kea was generally wrong about almost everything, but if you suspect everything all the time … what’s the expression? A broken clock is useless but still tells the right time twice a day.” Amirah took a step forward, but seeing Carter tense, she paused. “As per your text message, the object that was in Kea’s possession is our property.”

  “From what I’ve heard, that’s debatable.” Carter searched the darkness behind her, not trusting that she would come alone. “Your competitors certainly thought it belonged to them. Although I’m guessing it was one of your team members who went after the treasure chest I sank at the bottom of Bluefields Bay.”

  Amirah cocked her head. “Imagine their surprise when the box started to move.”

  Carter grinned. He had made sure that he had been observed when he had sunk the chest in Bluefields Bay. He left immediately afterward, but didn’t have to wait very long before someone went after it. As soon as the chest’s proximity alert had been activated, the device had been programmed to move toward a predetermined set of new coordinates.

  “I didn’t have to imagine it,” Carter smiled. When the box was brought to the surface and opened, it activated a camera. The images of an old white man on the deck of a boat were transmitted to Carter and he had sent the video to Kea in the crater. “I don’t suppose you have to imagine it either, if you have access to my files.”

  Amirah smirked. “The entertaining part was not that you’d lured old Gary and his crew out into international waters, but that there happened to be a U.S. Coast Guard ship conveniently nearby.”

  Carter shrugged. Since she had been reading his e-mails, there didn’t seem any point in mentioning that he had called in some favors from an old friend.

  “The truly genius part,” Amirah continued, “was that, instead of the chip, inside the box was several grand worth of cocaine.”

  “Bluefields Bay was a haven to pirates hundreds of years ago and remains so today.” Carter pulled out a small stuffed toy from his pocket. “The difference now is, when drug cutters are forced to throw their booty overboard in the Atlantic, the current washes the bales to Bluefields. You just have to be patient and keep lookout.”

  “So not only did they not get the chip, but they’ll get prison time for possession as a bonus.” Amirah sounded impressed. “A good plan, but you underestimate Gary’s lawyers. Corvis can afford the very best. They won’t be locked up for long.”

  “When he gets out, you can tell them, and anyone else, that everything ended here.” Carter tore the head off the toy platypus. He extracted the small chip, and held its slender, gleaming form over the edge of the cliff.

  Amirah clearly had to restrain herself from stepping closer.

  He hesitated, enjoying her undivided attention. “Kea wanted to thank you for the job at the Outpost. It was too good for her to pass up, even though she always knew you just wanted to keep an eye on her, to see if she still had this.” Carter nodded to the chip. “She also knew you’d never stop tracking her, even if she didn’t take the job.” The device felt so fragile between his fingers, yet sticky somehow, almost fluid, as if it were alive. “This must be some chip. She said it was worth millions.”

  Amirah shook her head. “The metal and circuitry are worth millions, yes. But the organic components within it make it unique on this world.”

  “Kea told me that if she gave it to you or even handed it in to the authorities, you’d get away with murder – all of her friends that got killed in Iceland when Corvis tried to get it back.”

  Amirah took a step closer. “I promise, we will pay you handsomely for its safe return.”

  Carter flipped the chip over his fingers, like a coin tumbling across his knuckles. “And if I don’t, you’ll punish me like you did Kea’s friends on the ice?”

  “What happened to her friends was regrettable. We never meant for anyone to get hurt. However, I can offer you protection.”

  “Good enough.”

  With a flick of his fingers, Carter tossed the chip into the crater where it tumbled end over end until it sank into Masaya’s glowing forge. He made an elaborate gesture with his fist in the air. With the bats gone, the soft whirring sound of the camera drone could be heard as it flitted through the air and attached itself to his wrist.

  “I’ve been live-streaming this via Emilio’s account through my little friend here.” Carter held up his arm to show her the drone. “I would have used my own account, but I only have twenty-four followers, not a million.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her aghast expression. “As they say, smile, you’re on camera.”

  Thank you for reading!

  I hope you enjoyed Kea’s latest adventures.

  Murder on Masaya is the fourth book in the Kea Wright series. Due to a hard drive crash, the third book in the series, Mammoth Drop, will be released in 2022. If you would like to learn more about upcoming releases, visit rjcorganbooks.com.

  If did enjoy Murder on Masaya, I would greatly appreciate a review on the retailer of your choice. Reviews make an enormous difference and will make it more likely that I’ll be able to continue writing. />
  Acknowledgements

  The events in this book are entirely fictional; however, the casualties of the 2018 student protests were very real. I encourage you to learn more about human rights abuses in Nicaragua.

  You can learn more by visiting Amnesty International’s country page https://www.amnesty.org/en/countries/americas/nicaragua/.

  Special shout-out to the Nicaragua field crew of scientists and volunteers: Hazel, John, Carter, Wylie, Ophelia, and Guillermo. Thanks to Keegan for his kindness and support. This book sat in limbo for a year, so thanks to Tiffany for encouraging me to push it across the finish line!

  If you would like to travel the world and assist scientists in their research and share their adventures, please visit Earthwatch.org and find the trip of your dreams, or simply donate.

  Disclaimer - I took many liberties in this book with scientific accuracy. I deepened the elevation profile to create a new plaza inside the crater and took liberties with lightning on Masaya. Lightning is a hazard at many volcanoes due to elevation and profile; volcanic lightning can be generated as a result of moist convection and ice formation. Additionally, lightning may be caused by colliding of particles in ash plumes (known as frictional or tribolectric charging). Of course, if there was an ash cloud, our Masaya team might have more to worry about than just lightning! Many people at other volcanos have been struck by lightning even during quiescent periods; depending on the substrate they were standing on, some never noticed they had been struck, while others have been killed.

  Side note - Abraham Blauvelt was a 17th century pirate and may have started my adventures. The towns of Bluefields can be found in both Nicaragua and Jamaica.