The Mayan Priest (3 page)

‘You bitch! Just wait until I get my hands on you!’ he screamed, leaving no doubt that she had deposited the entire load onto his face.

Gillian ran for her life. She had to get to Houston as quickly as possible, but her biggest problem was time. It was many hours to Guatemala Airport and a further two and a half to home. On top of that was the knowledge that Samuel would be on her heels. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that he had stumbled to the surface as she had feared.

Gillian sprinted to the Lost World Temple, desperate to find somewhere she could stop for a moment to clear her mind and formulate a plan. She quickly located a crumbling arch that had fallen into three pieces, creating a small alcove that was only about waist height. It was just below Samuel’s line of vision, so she hoped he would pass by without looking. Gillian ducked in and held her breath until she saw his enormous feet lumber past a few short seconds later. She exhaled quietly.

Sighing in relief, Gillian’s frantic mind explored every escape scenario, eventually locating and dropping the word ‘mobile phone’ into her consciousness.

‘Damn bloody fool,’ she swore silently. She had taken her mobile phone with her, turning it off and depositing it into her pocket when she had boarded the airplane. She could not believe she had forgotten about it.

Gillian hastily located the old Nokia inside her thin cotton vest and turned it on only to be met with a beep and the symbol for low battery. Fury welled up inside her at her own stupidity. She guessed that there was only enough power for one call and with luck eventually falling her way and the phone registering adequate reception, Gillian dialled her father’s work. It was a long shot, but she hoped he could pull some strings to help her.

Praying he was at his desk, Gillian looked out of her hiding spot and saw Samuel come to an abrupt halt. He had realised she was no longer in front of him and the innocent look of puzzlement transformed instantly to fury at the realisation that he had been duped. Gillian had to get out of there and quick.

She scrambled to her feet with her phone plastered to her ear and sprinted out into the open. She heard her father answer her call, but she ignored him for a moment whilst she got her bearings and raced across to the Central Acropolis. She fervently hoped it was inundated with tourists.

‘Dad … I need help … my friends are in danger and I’m being chased!’ she screamed as she pushed her toned legs to the limit ¬¬– ducking, weaving, jumping every obstacle in her path. She was pleased that she was supremely fit, but the effort at being forced to take two steps for Samuel’s one drained her, and with this heat, she was unsure how long she could keep it up.

‘Where are you!’ Dale yelled, his deep voice tense and worried.

‘Tikal … Guatemala,’ Gillian replied as the phone dropped out. She desperately hoped that her father had understood the message.

General Dale Bright had been sitting in his office sipping a cup of strong black coffee and reading the report from the latest reconnaissance mission when his office phone buzzed repeatedly. He was tempted to ignore it, but a quick look at the caller ID screen conveyed his daughter’s number in a highlighted orange. He picked up the phone immediately. It was not unusual for her to call; in fact, they spoke on a regular basis, but it was abnormal for her to ask for assistance. It was for this very reason that he knew her life was threatened.

Dale swung into action. He checked his schedule and noted that he was expecting a group of eleven men to return that afternoon from Campeche, Mexico. They were the closest to Tikal and probably his only viable option. The UH-60 Black Hawk they were flying had a top speed of 115 miles per hour which meant that they could reach Tikal in about an hour and a half. He hoped that was soon enough.

Dale picked up the radio and called Georgio Catalino. They had known each other since the Vietnam War in 1970 when the helicopter piloted by the small Greek had received a direct shot through the windshield, rendering Georgio comatose. Despite being a foot soldier and having no training in flight, Dale took the controls and flew Georgio back to base, saving his life. They had kept in contact ever since.

‘We’re on schedule, Dale. We’re just about to leave Campeche and with two planned fuel stops, I’d estimate that we’ll arrive back at Fort Sam Houston at 21 hundred hours.’

‘That’s not the reason behind this call. I have a situation that requires the utmost confidentiality and it will take you a couple of hours out of your way.’

‘Name it. I owe you one anyway.’

‘You don’t owe me a thing, Georgio, but it appears my daughter has found herself in trouble at Tikal. I need you to get her out’

‘Consider it done. For the record, it appears that I’ve hit a little snag that will take me four hours to resolve. Unfortunately I’ll have to log the extra tank of juice and I’ll make sure to include the added delay and changes in the register,’ said Georgio unwaveringly and in good humour as he abruptly ended the call.

Dale placed his hands behind his head and reclined thoughtfully in his chair. Georgio was a good man. He’d keep the matter quiet and he trusted him to bring his daughter back safely. His rank as general allowed Dale to order any changes to a mission without question, but he was loath to let his men learn that he was wasting government funds for his own benefits. It was imperative that no one discovered his small indiscretion.

Contemplating his many missions with the small, slightly overweight Greek who loved anything that started or ended in ‘food’, Dale automatically screwed up his foam coffee cup and aimed for the bin near his office door. In the ten years that he had occupied this office, he had never missed the basket, but this afternoon it bounced against the bookcase and landed defiantly a foot away from the intended target. Frowning in concern at his unusual failure, he hoped this was not a sign of things to come.

Not as worrying as his daughter’s predicament, but nonetheless concerning, was the failed covert operation Georgio had been on in Campeche and in a small town in Guatemala called San Marcos. They had received some intelligence about a drug smuggling ring involving high-ranking officials throughout Mexico and North America.

The list of suspected operators was as impressive as it was powerful and Dale had hoped to get a foothold into the group and break it wide open. This was not the first time the army had attempted to infiltrate the secret operation, knowledge of the congregation becoming known over fifty years ago. In fact, they had tried on many occasions but each time failed miserably.

The suspected leader was a man named Arun Keane. What little they knew about him came from a woman they had discovered wandering the streets of San Marcos, Guatemala semi-naked and alone twenty years ago. She had been horribly mutilated. Her fingers were cut off to the knuckles on her left hand, her genitals pierced and sliced so badly that she required reconstructive plastic surgery. There were horizontal cuts to all the major veins in her body. It was as if she had been bled than sewn up only to have it done all over again. From all reports, she should not have survived such a traumatic event.

She had been immediately placed into an induced coma designed to allow her body the maximum amount of rest and recovery and it had been a few days before Dale was allowed to interview her. He admitted to being nervous and had struggled to control his emotions as he had entered the hospital room.

Dale studied her face and despite the considerable scarring along the left ear and cheek, she was very attractive. Her long black hair was glossy, her eyes large and expressive and she had an unusual, extremely detailed tattoo of the Mayan Calendar Round between her neck and shoulderblade.

Throughout most of the interview she had ranted and raved, a deep psychosis causing the loss of most of her memory, but in the occasional moments of clarity, she revealed that she was a true survivor, a trait Dale greatly admired. He had also discovered that her marred exterior was simply a shell for a beautiful personality and Dale felt strangely drawn to her which surprised and puzzled him. Perhaps it was her resemblance to the ideal soldier that attracted him, able to put her body on the line but strong enough for it not to affect her psyche.

In her daze, she had revealed sketchy details about elaborate ceremonies and vast quantities of white powder being shipped out on a weekly basis after each ceremony. It was not much for him to go on, but it was a start that led to subsequent arrests and the uncovering of other group members, which allowed them to make inroads on the operation. He also secretly kept in contact with Reynata, visiting as often as possible.

Turning his thoughts back to his latest mission, Dale wondered how it had gone so wrong. They had uncovered an entire cocaine storage facility outside Eagle Pass near the border of Texas and Mexico three months ago. In it they had been lucky enough to find a small notebook that contained the names of Arun and a surprisingly well-known list of clients leading to a prominent and illustrious mayor being arrested and charged for possession. It was he who had given them the location of the facility in Campeche, under extreme duress, of course and with the assistance of his expert interrogator who never failed to obtain the required information. Still, it had not led to anything substantial and it frustrated him.

CHAPTER FOUR

In the hour that had passed since she had called her father, Gillian had covered every area of the Central Acropolis, North Acropolis and Great Plaza in a bid to outwit and outrun Samuel. It was very late in the day and the sun was beginning to set. There had been no tourists as she had hoped and Samuel was right on her tail.

Gillian had managed a small reprieve for fifteen minutes after locating a tunnel in which to hide, but Samuel had found her. He was persistent, but her years of training had given her endurance and speed. She was much quicker than him, but her legs were beginning to fail her. They had passed their pain threshold and were something akin to wobbling pieces of jelly.

Samuel had also produced a large hunting knife and only moments earlier had grabbed her by the hair and slashed her right forearm. Gillian escaped by rolling away and leaping the six feet from the ledge onto the side of Temple I. Her landing had been unbalanced and even the grassy surface had been unable to cushion her fall, causing her to twist her ankle.

The pain was horrendous, but she picked herself up and continued her escape only to find that the throb in her leg brought about a lack of concentration. She was limping and tired and she could sense that her will to fight was failing her. She longed to rest and was in the midst of indulging in that pleasant thought when she tripped over a concealed, discarded building block.

She tried to peel herself off the ground, but it was too late. Samuel was right behind her. He grabbed her and placed a knife to her throat. ‘At last I have you. You may be quick, but you are a stupid, red-haired bitch’ he hissed as Gillian felt his sweat drip onto her head and clothes. It carried a revolting stench of body odour that took all of her control to stop from retching.

Her first reaction was to give in, but that was not in her nature, so she decided to fight. Gillian turned her right hand out from his grip, thankful that his hand was not big enough to contain both of hers. She twisted, lifted and slammed both of her elbows into his chin with as much force as she could muster. Her unexpected, powerful drive slammed his head backwards and forced him off balance. Still, he was not deterred and immediately moved to raise his knife and stab her somewhere towards her stomach, but Gillian was expecting him. Her senses had sharpened and she danced sideways as the deadly blade glanced off her shoulder and shot into empty air. Samuel screamed in frustration and desperately scrambled to grab her, his hands ensnarling her long hair and dragging her to her knees.

Gillian spun backwards and mustered as much courage as she could. She unleashed a powerful kick into his legs and was rewarded by a hiss of pain and instant freedom which she failed to take advantage of. In her haste she had tripped on a loose piece of dirt and her right leg flailed in the air, giving Samuel something to grab hold of.

He snagged her foot, but Gillian leapt outward on her hands and scissor-kicked him squarely in the face with her free left boot. He yelled in fury, the frustration at being matched fairly by a woman etched in vehemence on his already flushed features.

He scowled deeply and lunged again, only this time his mouth was open in anger and the force of his dive caused him to unwittingly sink his teeth into her ankle. Gillian screamed. The pain was excruciating, made all the worse by the visualisation of her blood on his lips. He made for a gruesome sight with wild hair, filthy face and torn clothes matted together by his sweat, and now her blood.

Desperate to eliminate any harm and knowing that her adrenaline would wane any moment, Gillian decided to remove the object that posed the most danger to her – his knife. She knew this could be fatal, but she had no idea how long her father would be or even if he had understood her. She had to take the chance.

She flung herself unexpectedly at Samuel and caught him off guard. She attempted to seize his knife and managed to wrap her hands around the base of the handle and was about to pull at it when she caught sight of his eyes. He was looking at her with a mix of utter hatred but, more importantly, the need to succeed. She understood in that one instant that he was being driven by an unknown force to become this hunter that he did not necessarily like but was compelled to fulfill. The man he had developed into was not necessarily a true reflection of his nature. He blinked uncertainly at her and was caught by surprise as she rammed the handle of the knife and her fists up into his chin.

Samuel reacted quickly and, with his hand still enveloping the top part of the handle, managed to jerk the knife outward and downward towards her stomach, but Gillian had the advantage. With an instinctive jerk, she pulled it from him, slicing his palms as the blade passed through his hands.