The Death Relic (37 page)

‘Kidnapped? How absurd. I wasn’t kidnapped. I was
rescued
!’

‘Rescued?’ she blurted. ‘What are you talking about?’

He studied her face. ‘You mean your handler didn’t tell you?’

‘Handler?’ she said, even more confused.

Payne interrupted. ‘Handler? I’m not her handler.’

Hamilton glanced back at Payne, who was standing there with his gun raised. But instead of pointing it at Tiffany – who was still being watched by Jones – Payne was now aiming the weapon at him. In a flash, the guilt that had disappeared from Hamilton’s face had returned, along with fear, doubt and a hundred other emotions. ‘Wait! This
isn’t
your handler? Good heavens! Who are you then?’ He stepped in front of Maria to protect her. ‘Just let her be. She doesn’t know anything about any of this. I promise.’

‘That makes two of us,’ Payne admitted. Not only didn’t he know what was going on, he had the unmistakable suspicion that they had been played. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t know by whom, but he knew they had been lured there under false pretences.

Now it was up to him to figure out the specifics.

‘Jon,’ Maria urged, ‘put down your gun. He won’t hurt anyone.’

Hamilton lifted his hands above his head. ‘She’s right. I won’t.’

Ulster stepped forward. ‘Jonathon, my boy, I’ll vouch for him. He has a sterling reputation in the field. Never a hint of controversy. Not even a whiff.’

Hamilton looked over to see who was speaking on his behalf. He quickly did a double take when he saw Ulster. ‘Good heavens! They grabbed you, too. What’s going on?’

Ulster said, ‘I’m not quite sure myself.’

Payne glanced at Tiffany. ‘Care to fill us in?’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’m not at liberty to say.’

‘In that case, who
is
at liberty to say?’ he demanded.

‘Sorry. I’m not at lib—’

Payne charged towards her in anger. ‘I swear to God, if you finish that fucking phrase I will knock you off that seat. And if you think I won’t do it, look into my eyes.’

She looked up at him and smiled. ‘No need for threats. I know what you’re capable of. Like I said earlier, I’ve heard stories.’

He raised his pistol as if ready to strike her. ‘From whom?’

She had to give him something. ‘My team leader.’

‘Aha!’ Jones cracked from behind. ‘I told you we should have asked to see their leader. You thought I was joking, but noooooo! No one ever listens to the black guy.’

Payne ignored him. ‘Give me a name.’

She shrugged. ‘Don’t have one to give.’

‘I don’t believe that for a second.’

She knew Payne wouldn’t hit her – she was quite familiar with his background and ethics – so she called his bluff. ‘Beat me all you want. I’ve been
trained
not to talk. You won’t get a name until he arrives. He can tell you himself.’

‘He’s coming here?’

‘He’s supposed to.’

‘When?’

She shrugged. ‘Soon.’

Payne grimaced as he glanced around the site. They were isolated in the middle of the jungle. No maps. No surveillance. Limited ammo. If a battle erupted, he was confident that he and Jones would survive. Soldiers like them thrived in terrain like this. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone. If shots were fired, they would lose track of Ulster, Maria and Hamilton in a matter of minutes. And after that, things would get ugly fast. ‘DJ?’

Jones read his mind. ‘Can’t stay here.’

‘Thoughts?’

‘Let’s head to the main site. More people, less jungle.’

‘Less jungle means less cover.’

‘True. But more witnesses means less funny business.’

Payne conceded the point. ‘Agreed. Which part of the site?’

‘We can decide on the way.’

‘Fine with me. I’ll lead. You follow.’

‘I’m ready when you are.’

‘I’m ready now.’ Payne glanced at Tiffany, who was staring at him with her mouth agape. ‘Come on, Red. We’re waiting on you. Get your ass in gear.’

She stood reluctantly. ‘What kind of conversation was that?’

‘Efficient.’

‘I was thinking
clairvoyant
. You barely used words.’

‘Words are overrated.’

Payne slid behind her and frisked her for weapons. He found a pistol in her waistband and two cargo pockets full of ammo. He took the gun but let her carry the bullets like a pack mule. At this point, he didn’t know whose side she was on or what they were up against. If she happened to be a
CIA
agent, they might actually be on the same team, facing a foreign threat of some kind. If so, he knew the extra ammo would come in handy.

As he finished patting her down, she playfully thrust her ass against his groin. She glanced back at him and said, ‘I think you missed a spot.’

He shoved her forward, not in the mood for games.

Conversation was limited until the group passed the main excavation of Old Chichén. With so many workers running around, Payne told them to keep quiet until they were clear of everyone. Once they were back on the jungle trail, Maria turned to Hamilton for an explanation.

‘What happened at the hotel?’ she demanded.

‘You honestly don’t know?’

‘Know
what
?’

He clenched his teeth in anger. ‘That makes me so mad! They
promised
me they were going to tell you everything. That was part of our agreement.’

‘What agreement? Who promised to talk to me?’

‘The
CIA
.’

She sneered at the name. ‘The CIA? You’re involved with the CIA?’

He stared at her. For some reason there was bitterness in her voice, as if working for the
CIA
was the ultimate betrayal. ‘I don’t
work
for them, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘But you’re involved with them? Since when?’

‘Since they saved my life at the hotel,’ he explained. ‘I went to my truck to get the document I had told you about. As soon as I left the lobby, I was greeted by Miss Duffy and a few of her colleagues. They told me my life was in danger, and I needed to come with them immediately if I wanted to live. I asked about your safety, but they assured me you would be fine. They said people were after
me
, not you. They said the less interaction I had with you the better. They also told me a handler would be assigned to you for your protection. So I took them at their word and left the hotel without delay.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Yes. Just like that.’

She studied his face. He appeared to be telling the truth. ‘Why didn’t you call me? The
least
you should have done was call me. I was worried sick.’

‘I wanted to – I truly did – but they told me the more contact we had, the more dangerous it would be for you. Besides, they
assured
me that your handler would explain everything.’ Hamilton called out to Tiffany, who was walking a few steps in front of Payne. ‘You promised someone would tell her!’

Tiffany looked over her shoulder. ‘Oops.’

Maria shook her head in irritation. She’d had some previous dealings with the
CIA
, none of them good. From her limited experience, it was an organization filled with liars. ‘Then what?’

‘What do you mean?’ Hamilton asked.

‘That was Friday evening. What have you been doing since?’

‘Hiding in a tent. Waiting for the threat to be eliminated.’

‘
Eliminated?
As in
killed
?’

He shrugged. ‘I asked, but they wouldn’t say.’

‘What in the world are you mixed up in?’

‘Me? I was about to ask you the exact same thing.’

‘What does that mean?’

He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, we’re currently being led through a jungle by two armed men who appear to be friends of yours. I don’t mind answering a question or two about my weekend, but I’d appreciate it if you could return the favour.’

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. For the last few minutes she’d been focused on
her
situation. Meanwhile Hamilton had no idea why a gun was pointed at his back. ‘I am
so
sorry! I should have explained that a while ago. You must be terrified.’

‘I don’t know about terrified, but certainly uncomfortable.’

‘After you disappeared, someone trashed my room,’ Maria explained. ‘I was worried for my safety, so I called two friends of mine in America. They were kind enough to come at once.’

He glanced at her. ‘Your room was trashed? When did that happen?’

‘While we were at the bistro. Why?’

He paused in thought. ‘It just … well, it doesn’t make sense. Why would they do that?’

She shrugged. ‘We have no idea. That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out for the past two days.’

‘And what did you find?’

‘A whole lot of nothing.’

Hamilton turned towards Ulster, who’d been quietly listening to their entire conversation. ‘What about you? What on earth are you doing here?’

‘I’m tremendously close to David and Jonathon – they’re the two armed men who are holding you hostage. Please don’t hold that against them. They’re actually wonderful chaps.’

Jones called from behind. ‘Thanks, Petr. Love you, too.’

Ulster grinned. ‘I’m also an old acquaintance of Maria’s. I’ve known her since her graduate school days, back when she was still an archaeologist-in-training. Actually, I met the three of them on the exact same morning. Funny story: they stole a helicopter in Milan and flew to the Archives unannounced. Just popped in for a friendly introduction and—’

Payne loudly cleared his throat.

Ulster got the hint. ‘Anyway, Jonathon phoned me for some background information on the Maya civilization. When I questioned him about specifics, he mentioned your disappearance. Obviously, I wanted to do whatever I could to help, so I hopped on my plane and came at once.’

‘Well, thank you,’ Hamilton said. ‘Thanks to all of you. I’m still not a hundred per cent sure how you’re going to help, but thank you nonetheless.’

Angel Ramirez did two things after he survived the smoke-filled battleground of the Zócalo. He sought medical attention for himself and the kids, and he seized control of Hector’s operation before anyone else in the city could take advantage. But not necessarily in that order.

His first order of business was putting out a sizable reward for Hector’s killers. He managed to do so
without
revealing that Hector was dead. He simply said they were thieves who needed to be punished and left it at that. People would find out about Hector’s death soon enough.

Although he’d seen glimpses of Bro and Chase while he was underneath the
SUV
, Angel had seen Tiffany the clearest. He had a perfect view of her face and her bright red hair. It was unmistakable in the haze. Despite his anger – or maybe because of it – the image was seared into his brain. He described her in great detail to a street artist, who sketched her over and over until the picture matched Angel’s memory. Afterwards, he took a picture of the sketch and sent it to everyone who worked for, or was connected to, his organization.

In his message, he called her
El Diablo Rojo
.

The Red Devil.

Unlike the olden days when information took forever to filter across a country, her photo appeared on mobile-phone screens throughout Mexico within minutes. As expected, a feeding frenzy erupted from the Pacific Ocean to the Caribbean Sea. Hungry for money and the promise of advancement, low-level players rushed to the airports, train stations and border towns, hoping to spot Diablo Rojo before she slipped away. But it didn’t stop there. Because of Tiffany’s interest in the medallion, Angel sent out word to the ‘talent’ scouts who worked the archaeological sites – men who searched for potential targets amongst the busloads of tourists who visited the jungle every day – and told them to be on the lookout for collectors. Angel figured if she cared that much about an artefact, she might surface in one of the areas around the sites, possibly hoping to sell the Aztec medallion to the highest bidder.

Though he hoped for the best, Angel realized the odds of catching her in the immediate future were pretty damn slim. Not because his men weren’t motivated, but because her crew was bound to have an escape plan that was just as good as their plan of attack. And it had been precise, one that anticipated every move that he and Hector had made. Over the years, Angel had been involved in hundreds of kidnappings and had worked with dozens of men, many of whom were ex-military, but the expertise of her crew was on a completely different level.

There was no doubt they had worked in black ops.

Nevertheless, within twelve hours of sending out his personal all-points bulletin, his organization was flooded with potential leads. Phone calls, emails and texts came from nearly every state in Mexico and several border countries as well. Of course, most of the leads were fruitless. To earn the reward, Angel required photographic evidence of Diablo Rojo. This resulted in more false sightings than Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster combined. Pictures poured in at such an incredible rate, Angel was afraid his Internet connection would crash. He sat there in his office, with one arm in a sling, clicking on picture after picture after picture.

A few of the women
did
resemble his target. One photo was close enough that he called its sender and asked for a few close-ups in better lighting. Unfortunately, when the next batch arrived, it was obvious that the woman was far too old to be the redhead he was looking for. Despite the temporary excitement of that lead, most of the pictures were so far off the mark that Angel started to doubt the collective intelligence of his operatives. No less than five pictures were of men, not women. A sixth candidate was so gender-neutral he couldn’t tell what sex it was. Not that it really mattered, since it was abundantly clear that ‘it’ wasn’t his target. After a while it became apparent that most people were taking photos of redheads with the same mindset as a worker buying a lottery ticket. They figured, you can’t win if you don’t play. So they took pictures of everyone and sent them in.

Angel continued his hunt late into the night. He eventually passed out in his office chair, thanks to a combination of painkillers and exhaustion. Remarkably, he was back at it with the rising sun, awakened by the memory of his fallen friend and his desire for retribution.