The Mayan Priest (25 page)

‘I know about you and Arun Keane, your little cocaine business and the use of children as your slaves. You take them when they are too young to remember, bring them to your little camp and brainwash them to do your bidding.’

Dale was winging it now, but the look of disbelief on Santiano’s face told him he was right. ‘I want to know where the camp is. If you tell me, I’ll let you live. If you don’t, your brains will make a nice addition to that wonderful painting on your wall.’

Dale looked down momentarily, prompted by Santiano who had begun to wriggle uncomfortably in his chair. He had wet his pants. The strong man with the tattoos who allegedly feared no one had pissed himself.

Dale chuckled and Santiano looked mortified. He grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and shoved it at Dale. A quick glance revealed a detailed map.

Dale had no intention of killing the Senator; he was far more valuable alive. He bound the man’s hands securely behind his back, taped his mouth and eyes and pushed him out of the room.

Unfortunately he could not risk leaving him in the home as it was likely he would be found by the maids and released, putting his scheme in jeopardy. The last remaining well-meaning guard witnessed their hasty departure and attacked Dale from behind, but Dale was prepared. His ageing body somehow managed to swing around in record time, allowing him to outstretch his hands and collect the man across the neck. The guard fell heavily to the ground, hitting his head on the Italian porcelain tiles and dying on impact. Blood ran from his ears as Dale pulled him outside and pushed him under the rear deck.

Securing the Senator to a metal ring inside a stall of the stable complex, Dale rang Antony Larrami and informed him that he had an extra person to collect.

He had made it out in fifty minutes.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Richard did his best to steady his nerves, but to be honest, he was incredibly scared. He felt the full weight of responsibility to save his friends and partner on his shoulders and he feared failure. Their lives hung on his next few decisions and even the unwavering love and trust in Julia’s eyes did nothing to quell the uncomfortable sensation of fear.

He glanced at Julia and she dipped her head in the same manner he had seen many times over the years. It was her way of showing support even if she feared the outcome.

Richard sighed. His only regret was that he had never asked her to marry him and he had no idea why. To him, life was complete. He had a loving, supportive partner who shared his passion about archaeology and they had a beautiful family and home – everything he wanted! Yet Julia had often intimated to the fact that it was the only thing she felt was lacking. He owed it to her to correct his mistake and vowed to surprise her when they escaped.

Richard weighed up the situation at hand. He had only one grappling hook at his disposal and no more than an hour to move four people. He did not need to be a mathematician to know that he was short on time, taking into account that it took Redmond twenty minutes just to reach the roof. If he was able to climb and save Redmond, this would allow him access to a second hook which he could use to haul two people up in quick succession. A spare twenty minutes would remain for the final person.

The only question was: who was going to be the last person?

‘Okay, people, we have a decision to make. I have calculated that we have an hour before the rope breaks. I will go first and try to obtain the grappling hook from Redmond which I will drop along with mine. Two people will go next and one person will have to be last. My only demand is that Julia comes after me.’

‘I will go last,’ offered Fred as Mitchell’s face lit with a mix of relief and guilt.

Richard eyed Fred with deliberation. His offer was chivalrous and brave, but the speed in which it was delivered took him by surprise. There was no way that anyone in their right mind would want to go last, yet Fred seemed very comfortable with his decision.

It was an odd reaction, but he wondered if he was misreading the situation. Richard shook his head in disgust. What was he thinking? There was no way Fred would have an ulterior motive. Predicting this situation would have been impossible and there was definitely no way out.

The hook flew straight and true, lodging itself less than an inch away from the clasp that precariously supported the unconscious Redmond.

With the agility of a much younger man, Richard employed his ascender and began to climb the cable. He made good time, reaching the desired height in less than eight minutes before swinging loose and catapulting himself towards the tool room. Redmond had already completed the hard work by opening the small space, making it easier for Richard to gain momentum and hurtle himself forwards.

His first attempt was unsuccessful, but his second effort brought him close enough to the obsidian wall to allow him a last minute grab at the rock before gravity yanked him away.

Richard held on for dear life, using all of his remaining strength to draw his body forwards and up into the small room before switching on a torch.

He had to think quickly. Redmond’s lack of movement meant that he would need to reel him in unaided. He shone his small torch about the interior of the cave in search of an item that would suit his needs, quickly locating a long wooden pole amongst the pile of antiquities. It sported a strange hook that left no clue as to its intended use, but on this occasion it was perfect.

His worn and tired muscles screamed in pain as he stretched out towards his companion, taking two attempts before success. The hook slipped over the rope and the remaining archaeologists cheered from below as Richard hoisted and pulled, edging Redmond ever closer to the room. It took a further two minutes and an extreme lather of sweat before his young friend could be heaved to safety.

Even then, Richard did not delay. He ensured Redmond was secure and checked the time. Forty-one minutes remained when Richard threw the grappling hooks down to the stricken lift. His aim was true, but he held onto the rope from his end until he could be sure that Mitchell had secured it correctly.

All that was left was to wait. Success rested solely on those below.

Richard turned his attention momentarily to Redmond who had just started to make incomprehensible sounds and slight body movements. A touch of his forehead and feel of his pulse revealed a lack of temperature and even blood pressure, giving him an immediate sense of relief.

Redmond was going to be fine.

At least that was one less worry for him although the sound coming from the shaft immediately overrode any respite he may have experienced. Julia and Mitchell had used one grappling hook and ascender, each arriving at the correct horizontal angle to swing over to the room at the same time. Unfortunately Mitchell had swung sideways, entangling his rope with Julia’s who was desperately trying to twist around and free herself. Richard checked his time. Twenty-five minutes to go and the rope holding the lift had started to unravel. Time was running out for Fred who was still waiting patiently on the roof of the lift although Richard could see the tension in his body.

It took a further five to six minutes before Julia and Mitchell swung one at a time to the safety of the small room and quickly unhook their lines, which Richard threw immediately to Mitchell. To his dismay, his first throw was unsuccessful and Richard was forced to re-launch. He also noticed that only a few strands of rope stood between Fred and death.

It was happening again.

Richard recalled the death of a colleague at the beginning of his career during the archaeological dig in Mycenae and drew comparisons to this situation. The man in question was being lowered into a concealed well when the rope caught on a sharp piece of protruding iron, causing it to break and the man to fall to his death. Although it was not his fault, the dig had been Richard’s idea and he was never able to forgive himself for not checking for obstructions.

He suffered the same hopeless feeling as he had all those years ago.

There was nothing Richard could do to save Fred. He hoped and prayed that the rope held.

‘Hurry, Fred!’ screamed Julia as Fred wasted precious time glancing up at the fast disintegrating rope before releasing the grappling hook. It successfully connected with the target and Fred tied the rope to his waist.

What happened next was akin to a slow motion horror movie as the little group looked on, helpless, their mouths agape in dismay.

Fred ascended up and away from the roof of the lift with a smile on his face. His demeanour was one of relief and delight as he appeared unhurried and relaxed. In his mind, the danger had passed until the last piece of rope snapped and sent the lift plummeting to the base of the shaft. In an automatic response to being released from the oppressive weight of the room, the cable ricocheted upward at an incredible speed. It connected with the line that held Fred’s life in its grasp.

Although Fred was not a lightweight, he was absolutely helpless as the cord bounced unrestrained around the room, treating him like a defenceless rag doll. It eventually slammed his head against the obsidian wall twice and caused rope burn across his face and hands.

Fred screamed in agony and fear as the lift impacted with the base of the shaft. The resultant explosion of centuries old dirt and debris rebounded upwards at an enormous rate, filling the tunnel in seconds.

Once again Fred was at the mercy of an event that he could not control, only this time it was not so kind. The force of the impact and sudden movement it created, along with centuries of stress, had created microscopic cracks in the eye-like stone above. As if in a bad story, the stone split and crumbled, falling away from the roof in increasingly large chunks.

Richard looked at Fred and saw a once proud and fit man overcome with injury and failure. The outcome was inevitable and as the last remaining piece of rock gave way, Fred managed once last gesture of friendship. He waved.

Then he was gone.

Julia burst into tears as did Mitchell and the fully conscious Redmond but not Richard; he was numb with shock and feelings of failure. Tears would do little to alleviate the sense of guilt he was suffering. Common sense told him he was not at fault and that it was no more than a bad series of events, but he did not believe that. There must have been something else he could have done, something he missed. Perhaps if he been quicker, or even if he had been last instead of leaving it to Fred. Then there was Gillian. She had just lost her fiancé and did not know it! How was he going to explain this to her?

Richard sat on the dirt floor with his head in his hands until Julia came and sat next to him. She put her arms around his shoulders and whispered in his ear. ‘Some things are simply out of our control and if it were not for you, we would all be dead. Be thankful for the lives you have saved and respectful for the one we have lost. We need to mourn our friend, not feel guilty for uncontrollable events.’

She was right as usual and they all formed a circle to grieve for Fred.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The tendrils of darkness spread across the glorious ruins of Tikal just as the full moon rose to take its rightful place in the night sky. It shone brightly, desperately trying to make an appearance between the rain filled clouds but was shut out by the on again-off again storm. What little light it provided sprinkled amongst the dismal events that were unfolding below.

Samuel had ordered the helicopter to land on one of the long abandoned ball courts before making his way past the long shadows created by the towering and imposing pyramids. His destination was the stronghold created by a group of guards placed at the site by his ahaw. The men were highly trained in martial arts and marksmanship and were often deployed by Ahaw when a situation required protection. In this case they were used to keep out any intruders and to hold captive the men installed by Dale Bright. Due to his ahaw’s high rank and status amongst the governing bodies of the country, he had managed to muscle his way into the Tikal National Park under the proviso of doing necessary government ordered repairs. In turn the national park had informed all of the local and international travel agents that the park was temporarily closed to tourists and various archaeologists. It was the perfect cover for the ahaw to carry out his activities in private.

Samuel acknowledged the guards with a nod of his head as they lowered their rifles and allowed him into the highly fortified area. Ahaw had given him complete leadership over the mission and Samuel thoroughly enjoyed the power it provided. He took every opportunity to take advantage of his situation from ordering the men to prepare coffees and meals to ensuring he was constantly kept updated about the progress of the dig.

Samuel prided himself in keeping a tight ship and he did not tolerate any men who stepped out of line. Only this morning Samuel whipped the head off a guard who dared to argue against a direct order to hunt a jaguar. Samuel simply could not understand why the man did not want to hunt at night. It was beyond his comprehension that he would disobey him and not bring him the pelt he so desired.

Sitting down for a specially prepared supper of fruit and bread, Samuel was interrupted by a cough at the tent door.

‘Excuse me,’ said Donnel, an overweight, middle-aged man who resembled the caricature of a hardened, uncaring police officer. He had an unlined, unsmiling oval face with narrow eyes, pinched lips and portly cheeks. His eyes reflected a lack of sympathy but also a deep sadness that suggested he had gone beyond caring what people thought of him and only tended to his own needs.

‘The men want to know if you want them to break through the obsidian walls lining the shaft,’ his voice short and direct. There was no respect in his eyes, only a drive to earn the promised income.