The Mayan Priest (40 page)

‘Bloody good cover-up. You had me convinced.’

‘Yeah, it’s the highest quality, made by the people who create the costumes for high budget Hollywood flicks, and just for the record, my name is Fionella.’ She held out her hand in greeting which Sean took hesitantly but gratefully. He was pleased to have someone who was nice to him.

‘Sorry. Guess I’m rather jumpy at the moment. It’s been a really long couple of days,’ Sean replied.

‘We already know. Georgio has filled us in, which is why we must move underground as quickly as possible. We need to keep you alive at least long enough to get you on board the helicopter. Standing here for any length of time will only give them the opportunity to locate our heat signatures and hasten our demise.’

‘My oh my, you’re in a positive mood today,’ laughed Fionella as she opened the door to the shed and gestured for Sean to follow. Henre took up the rear, pushing the bike in and locking the door behind him. He quickly moved to open a concealed steel door in the middle of the floor.

Sean suddenly felt a tremor of apprehension. The path below looked dark and forbidding! It caused a wave of fear to wash over him. He was not claustrophobic or afraid of the dark, but he was worried about stepping into the unknown.

Fionella tucked his hands into hers. ‘It’s going to be okay, Sean. We’ll take care of you.’

Sean could not detect anything other than sincerity and kindness in her voice. He trusted her and allowed himself to be led into the bunker below.

Henre waited for them to pass before locking another solid door at the base of the stairs and pulling the light switch.

Sean blinked and looked around. He had envisaged a musty, leaking dungeon full of spiders, handcuffs and other implements of torture. Even a medieval cellar would have been closer to his expectations than the stark, freshly painted luminous room that was little more than a weapons storage facility. Each wall was laden with guns, ammunition, hand grenades and other warfare Sean was not familiar with. In the middle of the room were a small table, chair and radio. To the right was a stash of bulletproof clothing, a small store of tinned food and water and to the left were a couple of stretchers, blankets and pillows.

‘This is just one of many bunkers the army has positioned around the lesser populated states for our protection. They are designed for small and intermediate rated operatives like this, allowing us to be on site immediately without the need to go to the nearest base. Most have limited stocks but enough to get us by for a few days! As you can see, you certainly wouldn’t want to spend more than a couple of days here anyway. There‘s not much to do, not even a television to watch,’ advised Henre.

Sean did not know what the big deal was. His family did not own a television and they had learnt to make the best of their time by creating their own games and stories. He could occupy himself in even the most remote of situations.

He wondered how his family was coping. By now they would be frantic about his disappearance and may have notified the police, but there would be little to no resources allocated to find him. His family was poor and the police had greater priorities such as fighting crime and drugs. He would be the lowest on their list of priorities.

‘In little under half an hour, we will be leaving the comfort and security of this little bunker to meet the helicopter Georgio has sent for you. The only catch is that we have to cross 1500 feet to the nearest clearing.’

‘So?’ questioned Sean. He didn’t see the problem.

‘Arun will have a number of snipers waiting for you. You evidently pose a threat large enough that he wants to have you exterminated.’

Sean did as he was ordered only to discover that the moment he sat down, he became violently ill. An all encumbering dizziness washed over him and he collapsed on the floor in extreme pain. In all of the adrenaline-pumping action and nervousness of his arrival, Sean had forgotten about his injury.

‘I was trying to impress you by not showing any pain,’ Henre conceded with a laugh ‘And look how silly I was. All that pain for nothing. I got you anyway,’

Fionella punched Henre gently on the arm as they opened a medical chest, jabbed a needle in Sean’s arm and began to clean the wound.

‘That hurt. What’s that for?’

‘Pain relief,’ said Fionella as she bandaged and taped Sean’s shoulder with a deftness indicated by many years of experience. He looked at her and smiled, his moment of appreciation broken when Henre interrupted.

‘It’s time to go. We have exactly ten minutes before the arrival of the helicopter.’

Fionella nodded and hurried into action. She fitted a bulletproof jacket to both herself and Sean and pulled on an ammunition belt and hat.

‘Ouch,’ whinged Sean as he climbed to his feet and hurried up the stairs to where Henre and Fionella were waiting.

They were looking at him with an uncomfortable intensity that caused him to stop in his tracks.

‘There will be snipers out there. They will aim to kill and you will be their target. Do not believe for a second that the vest will save you because there are many other spots such as the neck or head that are vulnerable. It is absolutely imperative that you obey Fionella or myself and keep low to the ground’

Keeping a low formation and using the bushes to provide cover, Henre drew his gun, indicating to Fionella to do the same. They moved with Sean between them and forced him into an uncomfortable run, all the while ensuring that they kept their noise to a minimum. Sean was nervous and even more fearful when an unexpected shot pounded into the ground only feet from where they were moving. Henre gestured to Fionella to begin to run in an S-shaped pattern with the intent to confuse the shooters and was pleased when it seemed to work.

The subsequent shots were inaccurate enough to put most professional shooters to shame.

‘Oh, shit! We’re almost out of time!’ exclaimed Henre as he stepped up their pace, spurred on by the distinctive whirling sound of the nearing machine.

He nodded in agreement although the look on his face was one of intense fury and frustration at being made to choose between his wife and his duty.

The helicopter had landed and in the excerpt typical of a motion picture, eight fully laden army operatives jumped to the ground, their guns fully loaded. They viewed their surroundings, took control of the situation and fired selective blasts into the trees before separating into double formations. Two to the left, two to the right, two to assist Sean to the helicopter and the last couple ran directly to Fionella.

In moments, the bush fell silent as the gunfire ceased and four snipers surrendered. Sean was bundled unceremoniously onto the helicopter, accompanied a few moments later by the remainder of their party along with Henre and a seriously ill Fionella.

Three men stayed behind to attend to the snipers.

Sean did not want to know what fate awaited the traitors below although it did not take much stretch of the imagination to know that they would be executed. He glanced out of the window and wished he hadn’t.

He felt faint. The increasing loss of blood from his wounded shoulder, the overwhelming fear of being shot and the terror of witnessing an execution caused him to seek relief in the oblivion of unconsciousness.

***

In his cataleptic state, Sean sought a peaceful void that he was neither willing nor able to wake from. His body worked hard to mend the mental and physical wounds he had obtained during the last forty-eight hours and it wasn‘t until the smell of food penetrated his senses and tempted his empty stomach that he opened his eyes.

He heard a chuckle and gazed up at a round-faced, slightly tubby greying man with lined eyes and an unyielding stare.

‘Stuff the smelling salts. This works every time,’ he muttered as he handed Sean an egg and bacon sandwich with double layers of cheese, and a glass of apple juice, albeit longlife.

Sean accepted gratefully and ate the meal like a man possessed. He had no thought other than fulfilling the gnawing ache and quenching his thirst, which he achieved in record time.

‘I’d love another,’ he asked shamelessly.

The older man shook his head. ‘You’ve been through a trauma. Too much food and you’ll throw up.’

Sean nodded unhappily. He did feel a little queasy, his moment of self-indulgence interrupted when a slim, red-haired woman, a wiry slender man with an unwieldy mop of dark hair and his previous companions crowded around him. They were all looking at him as if he was a specimen under a microscope and he felt uneasy. He threw his hands into the air.

‘So what! I’m hungry. No need to stare at me.’

‘Sorry, Sean,’ said the slim man with a strange accent. ‘Let me introduce my friends. My name is Adam, this is Gillian and the tall man over there who thinks he’s far more superior than us is Tom. The old bugger is the one you spoke to on the phone. His name’s Georgio and the others are just people pretending to be our friends.’

The three men stuck their fingers up at Adam in a gesture of mock annoyance.

Adam grinned as Georgio interceded.

‘I understand that you are keen to rest, but we brought you here because of the important information you have for us. We really need to determine what you know and unfortunately, we must do it now. As you may be aware, a number of our close friends are in imminent danger – if they are not dead already – and we are behind schedule. Your book is so imperative for our success against Arun that we decided to wait for you.’

‘My boy, this is the key to disbanding Arun’s drug ring, but if I release the details too soon, his cohorts will disappear and any evidence disposed of. We must catch them in the act of selling and purchasing the drugs first! However, saving our friends are our first priority,’ Dale concluded before continuing. ‘Our only concern is that we have no idea where Dale would be held. We were hoping that you could help.’

Sean shrugged and gazed at the ground. He had just seen a look of desperation in Gillian‘s eyes and he did not know what to make of it. Her wild expression of anxiety worried him.

Georgio also noted the uncomfortable exchange. ‘Dale is Gillian’s father.’

Sean suddenly understood. He would try his best. ‘Give me a moment,’ he asked as the little group nodded.

Sean thought about Dale and frowned. Dale had given him confidence, understanding and friendship and he easily recalled the conversations he had with him on the plane. He learnt more about the man in an hour than during any of the surrounding times and although he couldn’t pinpoint one thing in particular, he did remember his conversation about a woman call Reynata. It had only consisted of a few sentences, but the context revealed that this woman had suffered greatly at the hands of Arun over a period of many years. If she was with him, it was possible that she would know where he lived. Surely Arun would have taken Dale to the same place.

Sean quickly revealed this information to Georgio who immediately dialled a number on his mobile phone. He spoke to a man called Peter who Sean recognised as Dale’s uncle.

Adam and Gillian looked at Georgio in expectation as he hung up the phone.

‘Tajumulco is the name she gave me. This is confirmed by the same name that appears on the list Sean has just provided. Reynata has agreed to fly out here and assist with the search for Dale.

‘Who is this woman?’ asked Gillian. The look on her face was one of confusion.