by Brad Taylor
She wanted to explore deeper, itching to find what buried treasure the temple held, but we didn’t have the time. Someone could do that later, after we proved the temple existed.
We exited the hole in the vines and found Eduardo sitting against a tree. I said, “We have the proof. Let’s go get it into the public domain. We’re going to need to speed-walk back, getting to Santa Elena before we were expected to be out of the jungle. Which means we leave the mules and most of the kit behind. Can you keep up?”
He didn’t seem to even care what I said. He stood up and said, “I’ve been thinking about this plan, and I’m not sure it’s the right way to go.”
“Why? We talked about this.”
“What if they just kill him outright? They have him right now, and releasing him is letting him talk. They already know he’s willing to go against authority.”
Exasperated, I said, “Why would they do that? They’d open themselves up to a murder charge.”
“This is Guatemala. Death squads are in our history from the civil war. He’ll just disappear. There will be no body for a murder charge.”
“But you know who took him. You’re a witness. They can’t make him disappear with you on the loose.”
He dropped his eyes to the ground, saying nothing. Jennifer stepped forward and, in a soft voice, said, “You think you’ll disappear too?”
He nodded and said, “Along with my mother. They’ll just clean it all up.”
Jennifer turned to me and said, “He might be right. The history of this place isn’t exactly law and order. We should do something.”
I said, “Like what? You want to conduct a rescue with a beat up forty-five? The best bet is exposing the temple.”
“No, I mean go to the police. Get Eduardo protection and let them do the rescue. Short-circuit this whole thing.”
Eduardo said, “They can’t do anything. I don’t even know where he is. They’ll have to investigate, but if they probe, he’ll disappear for sure.”
“But you said he was at Leopold’s place. The mansion. They can go there first thing and lock it down. Leopold won’t be able to smuggle him out if the police are all over the place.”
Eduardo clenched his fists and said, “He’s not at the mansion. I was taken there. Me, to ensure my compliance. They took him someplace else, and I don’t know where that is. I don’t even know if he’s still alive, but I do know if the police get involved, he’ll be dead for sure.”
He sat down against the trunk of the tree again, putting his head into his hands, his breath hitching.
Jennifer looked at me and said, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. Maybe the temple should stay hidden. It’s not worth a life.”
I’d been thinking about what Jennifer had said. About the police locking down the mansion. The one anchor point we had. I said, “Eduardo may be right. They might make him disappear no matter what we do.”
Jennifer didn’t like that answer. “So even if we just leave here and never mention the temple, you think he’ll be killed? We can’t do anything?”
“I didn’t say that. Right now, they hold all of the cards. We have nothing. With our hand, they’re just as likely to kill him as release him. What we need to do is get some different cards.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Leopold values the temple staying hidden, but that’s not enough to keep him from killing. We need to take something he values more than the temple. And more than the father.”
Eduardo lifted his head from his hands, hope in his voice. He said, “What would that be?”
“Leopold de Gaulle.”
Chapter 16
Out on the lake, the half-moon gave feeble illumination, and I could see the lights twinkling on the shore from the city of San Andrés. Compared to the jungle, the darkness surrounding us was veritable daylight.
From the front of the little skiff Eduardo had “acquired” for us, Jennifer looked at her GPS and said, “Right about three degrees.”
Through some hard trekking we’d made it out of the jungle in a day and a half. I’d instructed Eduardo not to go home—not to show his face anywhere it could be known—and he’d agreed to come with us to Santa Elena. We’d switched hotels, not wanting to return to the one where de Gaulle had tried his initial attempt at killing Jennifer and me. Although it was still viewed as a robbery, we’d be remembered.
While I would have desperately liked to call the reachback cell at the Taskforce for satellite photos and the architectural blueprints of whoever had built the mansion Leopold was using, I had to be satisfied with Google Earth and Eduardo’s memory from his visit.
After a quick study, I’d determined that the best approach was from the rear, on Lake Petén Itzá. For one, we could stage right from Santa Elena, crossing the lake to the town of San Andrés. For another, I didn’t want to have to penetrate through the two armed guards out front. I’d rather approach from the back, where I was sure the security was lighter.
I’d spent the rest of the day gathering up what little commercial, off-the-shelf stuff I could find for the mission, and we’d waited until midnight, setting out across the lake and leaving Eduardo behind with our Jeep. I’d told him that if we hadn’t returned by daylight to consider the mission a bust and to head to the US embassy in Guatemala City as a last resort. I gave him instructions to find the legal attaché at the embassy and to throw out our names as US citizens. I wasn’t hoping for much, because we’d most likely be dead, but it was better than going to the Guatemalan police.
I made Jennifer’s correction and puttered forward in the little johnboat. She said, “Four hundred meters.” Then, “Three hundred.” At two hundred I cut the motor, letting the boat slide. She pointed and said, “That’s it. The one with the outside lamps all over the place.”
I allowed the boat to drift forward until we were within seventy-five meters of the rear of the house. I saw a modern dock, empty, coming out into the lake and a grass-covered shore that ran from the water up to a twenty-foot stone wall. I said, “Break out the drone.”
She opened a pack and withdrew a cheap commercial quadcopter we’d purchased today, putting it into operation. I toyed with my smartphone, bringing up the app that controlled it. She said, “Ready?” I said, “Yep. Turn it on.”
She did, and I launched it into the air, flying it toward the compound. I’d studied the Google Earth view, but it didn’t have the granularity I wanted, as it didn’t show things like walkways or vegetation, and I needed to know all I could before we attempted entry.
I did a slow sweep of the perimeter, seeing a layer of shrubs on the inside hugging the wall, a small outbuilding of some sort, and a path from the dock leading to a steel door in the stone, a camera above it. I circled to the front and found the two guards Eduardo had talked about. They were sitting, bored, in a small shack next to the front gate. It was the only security I could see, but Eduardo had said that Leopold’s driver protected the inside. He acted as a final security detail stationed in the vestibule to greet anyone who arrived.
I didn’t see any roving patrols, but I had to assume someone patrolled the grounds on a regular basis, despite what Eduardo remembered, although that wasn’t much of a threat as long as we remained out of view. I was more worried about exfil back to the boat if we caused a stink inside and had to come out running. I didn’t want to smack into some rear guard prepared to fight. Hopefully, the task of watching over the kidnapped father had taken away some manpower.
I brought the drone back and said, “Okay, no change to the plan. Looks like we still go to the right of the dock. It’s the darkest, and there’s a little bit of a draw coming to the lake.”
She said, “Same entry plan?”
I grinned and said, “Yep. You having second thoughts, spider monkey?”
She turned to the front of the boat without answering, pulled up a second grid, and sa
id, “Okay, another three degrees right.”
I fired up the propeller, and she guided me in to shore. When I was fifty feet away, I cut the engine and pulled up the outboard motor, letting the boat glide in. We hit the shallows and both jumped out, she with the backpack on her shoulders. I pushed the boat into the reeds of the small draw; then we simply sat in the darkness for a moment, listening.
I heard nothing. I looked at Jennifer, and she shook her head. I whispered, “Okay, don’t take more than fifteen seconds getting over that wall.”
We left the cover of the draw and ran hunched over to the stone barricade. I looked up it and said, “You sure you can do this?”
It was made rough for aesthetics, but it wasn’t like there were massive hand- and footholds. She tested a section, crawling up about two feet. She dropped back down and said, “You hoist me as high as you can, and I’ll be over in a flash.”
Jennifer had once been a Cirque du Soleil performer before we’d met, something I’d learned when she scaled a building in Belize not once, but twice. I’d said I would go first over the wall, but she’d disagreed, saying she would be faster. Now she had to put that bravado to the test.
She dropped the pack and pulled out the end of a kernmantle rope, cinching it around her waist with a bowline knot. I said, “You get over and into the bushes. Anchor your feet against the wall and stay hidden. I’ll be right behind you.”
She nodded, and I placed our cheap family radio earpiece in my ear, saying, “Commo check.” I heard, “Test, test,” and said, “Good to go.” I placed my hands against the wall, allowing her to crawl up my back, the rope snaking out of the bag on the ground. One minute she was standing on my shoulders, and the next I felt her weight disappear. I looked up and saw her climbing like a gecko.
She’s not kidding about her skills.
She reached the top, then said, “Going down.” I snatched the rope and cinched it behind my waist. I felt the tension, then heard, “Slack. Slack!”
I gave her some and the rope began sliding through my hands at a rapid pace, but not fast enough to be a free fall. Then it quit.
I heard, “On the far side. Getting set.”
She said, “Go,” and I tested the rope. It seemed solid, so I put on the backpack and started to climb. I got seven feet in the air, and the rope slipped, sliding me back down two feet. I heard, “You are one heavy dude.”
I chuckled, and waited. She said, “Set. Make it quick. I can’t hold this too long.”
I started climbing again, using the rope and my feet as fast as I could. I reached within an arm’s length of the top and heard, “Guard. There’s a guard coming.”
I stopped, holding what I had, finding some footholds to relieve the stress on her. I said, “What’s he doing?” And then heard a dog bark.
Shit. This just went bad.
She came back, breathless, “He has a dog. It caught my scent. He’s not going to walk past.”
“Is he armed?”
“Yes. Yes, he is. I see a pistol in his holster. Pike, he’s going to find me.”
I said, “Brace, I’m coming up.”
She did and I reached the top of the wall, hugging the ledge and looking. I saw the guard about forty meters away, trying to calm the dog, but he was having none of it, snapping at the leash.
Need to get him before he draws that weapon.
I said, “Jennifer, untie the rope and stand up. Show him you aren’t a threat.”
“What? Are you nuts?”
“Do it. Let him see you and act contrite. Let him catch you. Bring him to you, but don’t give him any reason to draw that gun.”
The big issue here was whether he had a radio or not. If he did, we were in deep shit. If he didn’t, I might be able to contain the situation. I prayed that the door to the dock was unlocked on this side.
She stood up, and he immediately aimed his flashlight at her. She held up her hands and he shouted something in Spanish. He had the light in one hand and the dog in the other, so we were good for the time being. If he released the dog or dropped the light, I’d have to move quickly.
He walked up to her and waved her outside the shrubs. She did as he asked, then rotated so that he was facing her with his back to the shrubs, pretending to get away from the snarling canine. Good girl.
The dog was the real threat. I could take the guard down with ease, but that damn beast would chew me to pieces.
I lined up over the canine, drew my fighting knife, then jumped, propelling myself over the shrubs. I landed on the dog’s back, crushing him into the earth with more than two hundred pounds of deadweight, using my knife to silence him. I didn’t check if it was a fatal blow, as the guard had jumped back at my appearance.
He dropped his flashlight and dove a hand to his holster. I leapt up, trapped his hand in place, and saw he was wearing a combat vest that would stop my blade. I reversed the knife and hammered him in the temple with the hilt. He collapsed on the ground. I straddled him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and choked him out.
I stood up, breathing heavily, and Jennifer said, “Did you kill him?”
I started frantically searching his body, trying to find a radio. He had none. But he did have a key card. I pulled it off of his belt and said, “No. He was lucky.”
I withdrew my dilapidated forty-five and handed it to her, along with a spare magazine of ammo we’d found on the mules in the jungle. I said, “Here. You get this now.”
She said, “What are you going to use?”
I withdrew his Glock 17 and said, “This. It’s got a rail light.” I moved to the dog, seeing it was dead. I said, “Grab its legs.”
She gingerly picked up the front legs and said, “I wish you hadn’t killed him. He wasn’t doing anything but what he was taught.”
I picked up the back legs and said, “I know. A necessary evil.” We hoisted the dog in the air and launched the carcass behind the shrubs. I returned to the guard, faced my backpack toward Jenn, and said, “Get the tape and flex ties out of the pack.”
She did, and in short order we had his hands flex-tied and his mouth and feet taped. I dragged him into the shrubs and said, “Let’s go.”
Chapter 17
We ran to the path leading from the door at the dock and ending at another steel door at the back of the mansion. I had planned on just picking the lock, but it turned out there was no place for a traditional key. It had a keypad and an access panel.
Thank God that guard showed up.
No matter how much reconnaissance you did, there was always something to screw you over. Eduardo hadn’t mentioned how they’d accessed the house, and I’d forgotten to ask. If that guard hadn’t appeared, we’d have been leaving the same way we entered, empty-handed.
I pushed Jennifer to the side of the door and said, “Okay, remember what we talked about. I do the clearing, you do the security. You got this?”
Her eyes were wide, leaking anxiety, but she nodded. I said, “Hey, at least now you’re dressed.”
And that broke the fear. The last time we’d done something like this had been after a gunfight, and she had been in her bra and panties, nearly catatonic with terror. She hit my shoulder and whispered, “That’s not the way to see them again.”
I chuckled and said, “Just take it easy with that weapon. Remember what I taught you. Don’t flag me, and don’t aim at anything you don’t intend to kill. Keep your finger off the trigger until you need to use it.”
She nodded, and I raised the card, seeing a green light and hearing the door lock snap. I pulled the door open and slid inside a darkened room, my weapon light swinging first left, then right. It was a mudroom of some sort. I went to the next door, waited on Jennifer to squeeze my shoulder, then slipped through, entering a lit hallway.
It was wide enough to drive a car through, with modern paintings on the walls and a str
ing of brushed stainless steel lighting, another hallway to the left. I went to it, seeing it ended at another door.
Eduardo had told me he remembered walking to an office in the back, where Leopold worked, but that he had also seen a large, ostentatious bedroom off of the office. He didn’t know exactly where it was, his memory shrouded by fear, but I figured that’s where Leopold would be—either in the office working late or in his bed sleeping. I planned to just keep clearing until I located it.
I entered the door, finding a large kitchen with seemingly every available restaurant-grade appliance in existence. Empty.
I saw another door on the far side and thought about bypassing it, because there was no way it was the office, but decided to check it out.
This one was another key-card lock, which was strange on the inside of the house. I keyed it and shone my light inside. It was a closet but was ringed with weapons. An arms lockup. I entered, saw a Sako TRG sniper rifle with a Steiner scope, then an H&K MP5. I grabbed the MP5 and passed the Glock to Jennifer, saying, “This is just like a video game. Pick up a better weapon in every new room.”
She scrunched her eyes, not getting the joke, and I left the lockup. We reentered the main hallway and I paused at a door on the right. Jennifer squeezed, and I opened it, finding a dark great room with a dining table about two car lengths long, an antler chandelier above it. I backed out, saying, “This is getting old.”
We went to the next room, this one on the left. I entered and found the office. It was large, with a modern desk of brushed steel and glass, a lamp above turned on, but nobody behind it working. I saw a door on the far side and heard a toilet flush. I raced to the door and flattened against the wall, waving Jennifer to the other side.
It opened, and I put my barrel against the head of the person who exited. It was a woman, and she wound up to scream. I slapped my hand over her mouth, whirled her around, and slammed her into the wall. I put a finger to my lips. She nodded.
I stepped back and assessed. She was dressed like she was going out in New York City, with a pencil dress that left nothing to the imagination.