Ripper (10 page)

Patton was shocked a year later when
he was introduced to the president of the United States just after the war was over in Europe. The president was sick even then, but he managed to pull Patton aside and ask him a pointed question.

“Tell me that Colonel Thomas died doing his duty.”

Patton had not thought of Thomas since the dark night he dropped off the small package of serum he had recovered and hidden from the army. He had
again disobeyed orders from Pershing and delivered Colonel Thomas’ last request to the president.

“He was a particular friend of mine, and someone I thought was indestructible.”

Patton told the president his firsthand account of that night and the battle of Perdition’s Gate. The president never said a word. When his tale was complete, Patton saw the president of the United States swipe a tear
from his tired face and then smile.

“He was quite an officer, I can tell you.”

“Sir,” Patton braved, “code 5656, what is that?” Patton leaned in closer to Wilson. “And that officer could not be working for the archives; I don’t think the army would waste him there.”

Wilson continued to smile as he nodded his head. “There is no such thing as a code 5656, nor do we have any army staff officer
on detached duty to the National Archives. Why on earth would we need soldiers doing file clerk work … as you said Lieutenant, why would the army waste a man there?” The president patted the silent Patton on the back and then moved off. That was all the information the future general ever learned about the strange lieutenant colonel on detached service from the National Archives.

For the rest
of his military life, Patton would never be the same. He would overcompensate for every moment of fear he would ever encounter. Men would know the crazed general in later years and never know why he acted the way he did. They would never understand that the famous man had entered hell and saw the darkest side of men.

In that time long ago Patton assumed that the professor and his miracle drug
had succumbed to his attack, but he would never know that Perdition’s Fire would only ferment and become stronger until it would be released among his countrymen one last time.

Hell on earth was buried and forgotten along with Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, and the infamous Jack the Ripper.

PART ONE

DÍA DE LOS MUERTOS (DAY OF THE DEAD)

What is death? It is the glass of life broken into a thousand pieces, where the soul disperses like perfume from a flask, into the silence of the eternal night.

—Unknown Author

1

STATE OF TAMAULIPAS, MEXICO,
THIRTY-FIVE MILES SOUTH OF NUEVO LAREDO
(PRESENT DAY)

Geologist Sarah McIntire studied the cave’s lower passages but could see little in the klieg lighting that had been placed by the students from Baylor University. She was accompanied by three undergraduate kids that knew nothing of Sarah’s real employer, and that was the way it would be kept. Not even the
professor, or even the doctor from the University of Mexico and his twenty students, had any idea just who Sarah really was and who she was employed by.

The Event Group had placed Sarah on the field expedition not long after the joint venture was announced by the two universities to explore and document one of the many excavated caves that had been used as small armories and hideouts at the turn
of the century by none other than Pancho Villa, the Mexican revolutionary. The stash of weapons, food, and horses were placed inside the natural cave formations by the bandit before raiding into the Texas border towns across the Rio Grande River. Sarah and her two-man security team were there to document not the bandit’s secret hideaways, but the ancient cave paintings that everyone outside of
the higher fields of learning seemed to ignore. If she found them to be authentic, and she could tell this by the geological makeup that the paintings were depicted upon, she would then authorize further study by the Event Group and their anthropological division.

The small man stepped up to Sarah and whispered as he squeezed past her in the narrow cave passage.

“Not exactly Carlsbad Caverns
is it?”

Sarah smiled at Jason Ryan who was part of her two-man security team. She half turned and shined the small flashlight into his face.

“We can’t have everything, Mr. Excitement. And as a matter of fact I’m beginning to think this could be quite a find for the Southwest. I think these were made by Southern Cheyenne Indians, and not the Apache people like the good professors believe. We
do need to get a team down here from the Group; it looks like some of the theories that have been floating around by the Anthropology Department may be true about the Southern Cheyenne having led raids against the Apache this far south. This may be the proof they need.”

Jason kept his face expressionless and then yawned as wide as he could.

“Asshole,” she said as her light went from him to a
space that was void of pictograms. The spot was hollowed out, as if a piece of the granite had been sliced out by a power tool.

“Yeah, well this asshole could have been playing football today, but Director Compton thinks you need a babysitter on this gig. Why am I—”

“This is wrong; some idiot has cut into this wall and taken…,” she stopped speaking and shined the flashlight farther down the
cave wall. “Damn it! Someone’s stealing this stuff.” She moved the light back to Jason who had his own light out and was looking at the ground.

“Yeah, well whoever they were wore U.S. Army–issue combat boots, and one,” he pointed to a smaller set next to the larger, “ladies, or midget male, designer Timberland work boots,” he said as his light picked up several more footprints in the loose soil
of the cave floor. “You know, for the past two days, starting across the border in Laredo, I’ve had the feeling we were being followed. I wrote it off as just being paranoid about everything lately.”

“This is criminal. Hell, no one’s supposed to know about this place. You think someone knew we were coming here and followed us?”

“I don’t know, but Sarah, Mexico is a convenience store for antiquity
theft, you know that. Hell, I bet when we head back through the border you can pick up a piece of this wall at the flea market in Nuevo Laredo.”

“It’s sickening. Come on, let’s get these kids back to the cave opening,” she said as she shined the light on her wristwatch. “I promised to meet Jack and his mother for dinner in Laredo at seven.”

“And I better get you there on time for the big meeting—scared?”
Jason asked with a smirk.

Sarah didn’t answer as she moved the light over at least six areas where the cave paintings had been removed by modern power tools.

“I asked if you’re scared meeting the colonel’s mom.”

Sarah finally looked over at her friend. “Absolutely terrified, now shut the hell up about it.”

Jason smiled and started to follow Sarah out of the lower passages of the natural cave
system, shouting at the students in English and Spanish for them to head back to the surface.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about his mother. I mean the colonel’s a nice guy isn’t he? Someone had to have taught him right. I’m sure they are just like one another. Hell, you may even find out that he cried when he was a kid when he saw Bambi’s mother got killed.”

“That isn’t helping Ryan!”

*   *
   *

In the bright sunlight Sarah placed her sunglasses on as the first of the two buses of students pulled out, heading north to the border. The second bus filled with university students from Mexico City would head south to a cheap hotel that was rented for them. Sarah waved at the bus as it passed by. She then glanced over at her security escort of two men. Ryan was bent at the knees and was
examining something in the dirt. Jason straightened and moved to follow the academic team toward where Sarah was standing.

“I would like to thank you for your excellent evaluation of the geological deposits surrounding the pictographs, Miss McIntire. I must send a letter of appreciation to your employer.”

Professor Salvador Espinoza, dean of anthropological studies at the University of Mexico,
was smiling and holding out his hand. Next to him were three professors from that department, and bringing up the rear was the lone professor from Baylor University, Dr. Barbara Stansfield. Jason Ryan brought up the rear, and that was when Sarah noticed Jason raise his sunglasses and then point to the ground next to the American professor’s boots. He then lowered the sunglasses when he saw Sarah
had indeed noticed her footwear.

“Yes, I agree,” the American professor added, “excellent job. Where should we send that letter Miss McIntire, was it the National Geographic Society?”

Sarah slowly released Professor Espinoza’s hand after shaking it and then looked the American woman in her sunglass-covered eyes. She held out her hand and the two shook as Sarah sized the woman up, even though
young Sarah was far shorter than her counterpart.

“No, I was sent by the Texaco Corporation. They’ve had dealings here before and they knew I was an expert on the formations that make up the surface area of most of Tamaulipas, and the vice president of the company is a graduate of Baylor,” she said as she removed her gloved hand from Stansfield’s own. Sarah had stuck to her cover story, with
her bosses at the Event Group supplying the information about her fictitious employment history, so she knew the part about the Texaco VP was true.

“My mistake, Texaco it is,” Stansfield said as she removed her sunglasses and looked closely into Sarah’s. McIntire then removed her own sunglasses so the professor could get a better look. “I was just wondering because I overheard your two men over
there call you lieutenant.”

Sarah smiled as she looked at Ryan and Marine Lance Corporal Kyle Udall. It was Ryan who rolled his eyes and looked away first.

“Yes, well I used to be in the army, that’s where I received my degree, and my military title stuck after it became known throughout my department at Texaco.”

“I see,” Stansfield said and was going to ask another question when three vehicles
came into view over the crest of the small hill that fronted the cave system.

Ryan and Udall moved to separate. Udall moved toward the cars that were waiting for the academic teams, while Ryan moved toward one of the lean-tos where he had a large backpack.

Sarah saw their movement and immediately became alert to danger herself. She spied the three vehicles. One was a new Cadillac Escalade; the
other two were fairly new Range Rovers. They looked to be full of men.

“Who is this?” Stansfield asked as she raised a hand to shield her eyes.

“Professor Espinoza, were you aware that more than just a few of the pictographs were removed from the cave system prior to our arrival here?”

“No, I was not,” the Mexican professor said as his eyes went from the three SUVs to those of Sarah McIntire.
“What do you mean
removed
?”

“Cut straight from the stone by mechanical means. Several hundred thousand dollars worth if I know the black market well enough.” Sarah chanced a glance down once more to the boots worn by Professor Stansfield. She confirmed they were women’s Timberlands, approximately size five. “Maybe these late arrivals can explain what happened. They seem to be driving fast enough
toward us and they do look like men with a purpose.” Sarah looked at the American anthropologist. “Doctor Stansfield, you claimed that you had never been in the lower galleries of the cave system before, so can you explain why your boot prints were there?” Sarah said as she smiled, not looking at the American professor but keeping her eyes on the three cars as they came to a sliding halt, creating
a dust cloud that covered Jason Ryan as he removed a nine-millimeter Berretta from his backpack.

“I assure you this is the first day that I have had an opportunity to study the system, I—”

Sarah turned from watching the three cars dislodge their passengers of fifteen salty-looking characters.

“There may be one or two pairs of designer Timberlands in the whole of Mexico Doctor, and you seem
to be wearing a pair, and the footprints we found in the lower galleries were Timberland size five, and I’m only guessing here, but you seem to fit the shoe.”

Sarah saw that the men were armed. Some held handguns and others had very lethal-looking mini AK-47s. She also noticed they were pointed at them.

Professor Espinoza, with wide eyes, moved his two assistants to his rear as the men approached.

“May we help you?” Espinoza asked in Spanish.

The man leading the fourteen others never hesitated—he raised his automatic weapon and shot Espinoza in the forehead.

Sarah couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed. The man had been talking to her just a second before.

“This wasn’t in the deal, what are you doing?” Stansfield cried as she took two involuntary steps back.

The same man who had
just murdered Professor Espinoza aimed and quickly fired a round into one of the male anthropology assistants. The young man crumpled and fell dead into the dust. The murderous man then walked over to Stansfield and looked the forty-six-year-old over. He suddenly raised the automatic and brought it down onto the top of her head, sending the blonde professor crashing to the ground. He then waved
his companions forward. Three men came toward Sarah, but five steps were as close as they got. Two bullets apiece slammed into their head and chests.

Sarah dove for cover as Jason Ryan came forward in an assault squat as he took in more of the men. He aimed at the man who had killed Professor Espinoza and fired once, but one of the assassin’s men who had come forward stepped in his line of fire
and took the round to his chest.

Suddenly an automatic weapon opened up and Sarah ducked her head down as two of the fifty bullets fired from the other ruthless men in the group hit Ryan and he fell backward. He lay there unmoving. Sarah started to stand, but the leader of the group kicked her in the stomach and sent her rolling on the ground. Then she heard the female anthropology assistant
that had been pushed aside by Espinoza scream before being silenced. Sarah, as she held her stomach in pain and shame, heard another AK-47 open fire. She remained on the ground and never saw Lance Corporal Udall die as he came out of one of the vehicles where he had been rummaging for his weapon.