The Water Queens (Keeper of the Water) (7 page)

“Once night fell, the lights at the Venezuelan airport suddenly shut off. Dozens of flashbangs erupted and a Special Forces team stormed the airplane in a last ditch assault on the young women. Everyone assumed this would be the end of the ordeal but after several tense minutes, there was movement from the plane’s open door. One by one, the bodies of each member of the Special Forces was tossed down the stairs until none remained. When the lights were turned back on, one of the women stood in the plane’s doorway, holding a pair of small swords against the throat a little boy who must’ve been three or four years old.

“That was enough to convince the military to back off. Once the blockade was gone, the plane was cleared for flight. They took off just before daybreak this morning but they’ve been flying low and slow and are now somewhere off the coast of Peru. A pair of American jet fighters caught up and have been following at a safe distance, just to make certain the women aren’t targeting a specific place. But nobody knows why they’re flying so low – or more importantly – where they’re headed. That’s everything I know. What about you?”

“I can’t say I know the plane’s ultimate destination,” I say. “But I
do
know where the women are going.”

Ashley has every reason to doubt what I say. She’s a well-respected journalist and I’m just some girl who strolled into a diner. Maybe it’s her job to make her interviewees feel comfortable but it does feel like she trusts me.

“Where is that?” she asks.

I have to remind myself that any information I give must end up benefiting me, Amelia and John in the end. Technically I may no longer be an Amazon but I made a vow to keep our secrets until the day I die, not that Cassie and her queens have been following the same rules…

“The rainforest,” I answer simply. “Near the Amazon River.”

“The rainforest? That’s not very specific,” Ashley says, doubt creeping into her voice. “That’s a pretty big place.”

I nod. “You have no idea.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I know them, much better than I’d like to admit,” I say. “But don’t worry, we’re not friends or anything like that.”

“Okay,” Ashley says slowly, correctly sensing there’s a lot more I’m not telling her. “Let’s try this one: why did they hijack the plane?”

“They’re racing to reach the… a place in the jungle,” I say carefully. “They’re trying to get there as quickly as possible.”

“What place?” she pushes.

“Just a place,” I say, a generic answer I can tell she’s not happy with. “Believe me, it’s not a place you or most others have heard of.”

“I’m finding this difficult to believe.”

I shrug. “I have no reason to lie.”

“Then why go through so much trouble?” she asks. “What are they so desperate to reach in the jungle that they’d kill so many people and steal a plane?”

“I… I can’t tell you that part,” I say.

She nods though a frown appears on her face.

“I have a feeling what you
aren’t
telling me is a hell of a lot more interesting than what you
are
saying,” Ashley says. “But I can’t waste my time trying to pull a story out of someone that doesn’t want to tell it. Let me know if you change your mind about talking but I won’t be at this grease pit much longer.”

She turns and heads toward the diner’s entrance. Through the grimy windows, I see John and Amelia looked out at me. All along, I figured I was in control of the conversation with Ashley Lutz, that she had to play by my rules since I possessed all the information. But I underestimated the reporter. She may sense that I’m the key to a major break in this story but she’s too famous to play games with me, she has too many other opportunities to report different aspects of this story.

I’m the one who needs her and it’s not until I see her walking away that I realize she’s our only hope; she’s the
water’s
only hope.

“Wait,” I say before she steps inside. “How did you get here? To Florida, I mean?”

“Company jet,” she says. “They own a couple and give their top reporters access. That’s how we can be dispatched immediately and be first on the scene of any top story across the globe. The part of this story in Florida is over now; we’re all waiting around to see where the plane ultimately lands.”

“What if I can give you
that
information?” I ask. “What would it be worth to you?”

Ashley shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but CNN has a strict rule about not paying money to our sources.”

“I don’t need money,” I say. “More like a ride to South America for me and my friends, no questions asked. Is that something you could make happen?”

“That could be tricky; you’re asking me to put my neck on the line. I don’t even know your name,” she says. “I
want
to trust you but before I consider doing that, I need you to tell me where the women are going.”

I hesitate to answer; this information is the only thing I’ve got to offer. I want to trust Ashley as much as she apparently wants to trust me but if I tell her what she wants to know, there’s nothing to stop her from leaving me high and dry. She misinterprets my silence as I sign that I’m not interested.

“Ball’s in your court now,” she sighs before turning away again.

“Mato Grosso,” I blurt out.

“Excuse me?”

“Mato Grosso, it’s a section of jungle in the northwestern part of Brazil,” I explain. “That’s the section of jungle where the women are going.”

Ashley raises an eyebrow and looks through the window of the diner, where we can barely see the television in the corner. Live footage of the airplane suddenly switches to a map of South America, which shows the route taken thus far by the hijacked plane. It doesn’t take Ashley long to realize the map and my story don’t quite match up.

“Doesn’t look like they’re headed that way to me,” she says.

“I assure you, they’re going to Mato Grosso,” I say. “I’m sure they’re realizing it’s better to be sneaky and not lead the entire world toward the… the source.”

“The source of what?”

I shake my head; Ashley knows this isn’t information I’m going to share. But before she can become mad and head inside, I realize I have to give her
some
kind of useful tidbit. It suddenly dawns on me how to keep her interested, though what I’m about to tell her is total conjecture at this point. Still, I know Cassie well enough to figure out her next move.

“I know what they’re going to do next,” I say, stopping Ashley from heading into the diner. “I guarantee it won’t be long until the women do something as a distraction and then disappear.”

“With all the cameras watching them?” Ashley asks. “It’ll be tough to disappear with the eyes of the world following their every move.”

“Don’t underestimate their ability; others have been doing just that during this ordeal. These women are strong and tough but also move fast, fast enough to confuse everyone watching.”

“You said they’re in a race to get to the jungle,” she says, piecing together the information I’ve provided. “If they’re headed to the northern section of Brazil, could they be heading off course now to trick whoever is trying to race them to this
source
?”

I slowly shake my head. “The other people trying to get to the source know the way; the hijackers know that but also think they eliminated anyone else heading to the jungle. That’s probably why they’re taking a less direct route to their destination,” I explain. “But what they
don’t
know is they’re wrong about their opponent being dead.”

“And how do you know that?” Ashley asks.

“That’s easy,” I say. “
I’m
that opponent.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

For a few moments, Ashley Lutz is shocked into silence; it’s the first time she’s been at a loss to fire back a follow-up question. When she looks at me, her eyes bore holes into me, trying to find my soul to see if I’m telling the truth. She obviously has doubts but she’s not the only one; with every revelation I give – tiny and vague as they are – I begin doubting whether I’ve said too much. If she asks anything else, I may need to start looking for another way of chasing after Cassie.

The crowd in the diner suddenly erupts before the reporter can figure out more questions to ask me. An extreme tingling sensation washes over me momentarily, so strong I can barely stay on my feet. Luckily it passes quickly as Ashley and I rush back inside to see every eye turned toward the TV. The passenger plane quickly descends from the sky though there’s no runway – or
land
for that matter – to set down on.

“What’s the pilot doing?” someone in the crowd calls out.

“The plane shouldn’t be out of fuel yet,” someone else says.

“It’s not the
pilot
doing that, Mentor,” a quieter voice says behind me.

I’m so focused on the TV that I didn’t realize Amelia and John approach me. Though the diner is full of reporters who’ve undoubtedly witnessed countless tragedies across the world, a silence falls over them as they watch and await the inevitable.

The plane lowers to the ocean like it’s trying to land, At first, it touches down softly but it soon wobbles to the side and a wing snaps off. The video footage is shaky from high above the ocean and it’s not long before the plane filming the accident flies too far away to see things clearly. The pair of American fighter jets lowers but there’s nothing they can do to help the plane, which rolls atop the water before finally coming to a stop.

The reporters in the diner quickly overcome their shock. Amelia, John and I remain rooted to the floor, watching the TV as dozens of people jump out of their seats and toss money onto the booths and counter. The plane hasn’t even begun to dip beneath the surface before the reporters rush for the exit.

“We need the next flight to Peru,” several men yell into their cell phones.

Within seconds, the diner is cleared out though I hardly hear the TV over the sound of squealing van tires in the parking lot. The frenzied waitress collapses in a booth and sighs in relief, taking a bite of the burger she just brought from the kitchen.

“I guess the women just lost the race,” Ashley says as she gathers her cameraman and also heads for the door.

“How much did you tell her?” John asks.

I find it ironic that
he’s
the one concerned about Amazonian secrets when he and his girlfriend conspired to destroy our kind. I bite my tongue and shake my head at him before hurrying to catch up with the reporter.

“I
told
you there’d be a distraction,” I say. “Now do you believe I know what I’m talking about?”

Ashley pauses long enough to look back at the television. The footage is too shaky to make out anything but the largest pieces of wreckage.

“That’s no distraction,” she says. “That’s an awful crash. I’ve covered enough of these stories to know that
nobody
could survived that.”

“Like a band of women armed with bows and spears and arrows couldn’t possibly survive an assault from elite soldiers?” I ask. “These women
did
take a risk crashing the plane but I promise you they
will
survive.”

I’m asking a lot of Ashley to believe me but I
know
I’m right. I may have felt the tingle of warning when the plane was going down but that feeling has eased; I don’t know how but I’m certain I’d know if Cassie died. Ashley is interrupted by her cell phone.

“I have to take this, it’s corporate,” she says.

After she excuses herself, John rushes over to me. I already know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth.

“What are you doing? Will you please let her leave already before you say too much?” he snaps.

“We
need
her,” I snap back. “More specifically, we need her
plane
. Cassie and the queens dumped the plane far enough to avoid leading anyone to our camp. But it will only take them a day or two to run there. Ashley’s a famous enough journalist that she has use of her own plane.”

“Ashley?” John snorts. “Now you two are on a first-name basis? Maybe you can tell her all about who you
really
are if you’re in such a mood to share stories.”

“I can’t expect her help if I tell her
nothing
. But I would
never
betray my sisters in water; I’d
never
say anything that would risk the safety of
our
sacred water,” I say. “Besides, your opinion on this subject doesn’t matter nearly as much as Amelia’s.”

It’s a low blow but something I’d believe whether or not John and I were arguing. He glares at me as I turn to Amelia, who I expect to agree with me. But my recruit frowns and doesn’t look me directly in the eyes.

“I’ve never had trouble borrowing a plane before,” she says.

I shake my head. “It’s different this time. We don’t need a recreational biplane from an unguarded airport. Security is going to be insanely tight; I don’t think the police or FBI will appreciate unauthorized women casually strolling toward airplane hangars.”

“We could go somewhere else,” John intercedes. “A different airport.”

“There’s no time,” I say. “And security will be heightened
everywhere
. Even if we manage to steal a plane, that story would turn into as big a news story as this one. I know Cassie and the queens will be running through the jungle but if they came across a TV and saw that story, they’d
know
it was us. Our element of surprise would be ruined, and that’s
if
we don’t get blown out of the sky on the flight down.”

Ashley hangs up her phone and rushes toward the news van, waving her cameraman to follow. She looks at me and shrugs.

“Sorry, I’ve got a story to follow,” she says. “My own race to get to the crash site in Peru. It might be the same story everyone else is following but maybe I’ll uncover something once I’m down there.”

My insides sink when I watch her get into the van. I’m panicked and in my desperation I step in front of the van as it begins to pull away. It squeals to a stop just in front of me; I’m glad I didn’t have to knock the van aside before it hit me. The driver blares the horn but I don’t move until Ashley rolls down her window.

“Don’t fly to Peru,” I plead. “Take us to Brazil for the
real
story.”

“I already have a
real
story to cover with a
real
crashed plane,” she says.

“Let us come with you and I’ll give you a
major
piece of information, something that
nobody
else has and probably never will,” I promise.

Ashley thinks for a second before nodding.

“Get in the van,” she says.

Relief washes over me and I rush to open the van’s door. Amelia follows and climbs in but John hesitates. He still looks angry and I wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed behind. But the thought of separating from him leaves me unable to breathe.

“Please,” I say.

He sighs and climbs into the back. I’m about to follow him inside when Amelia tosses me a large camera bag with the TV station’s logo. I’m confused at first until she points to the alley next to the diner.

“Forgetting something?” she asks.

The thought of going after Cassie and the queens while unarmed makes me shake my head. Sometimes I wonder how I can be so obtuse. I rush behind the dumpster and shove our weapons into the large bag. I no sooner climb in and close the door when the driver slams on the gas. Ashley looks at the bag and raises an eyebrow but I just shake my head. As a reporter, I’m sure she wants to know
everything
but luckily she has other questions.

“You have until we reach the airplane hangar to convince me,” she says.

The airport looms large through the front window; we don’t have much time. It doesn’t help that the driver is already on his cell phone, contacting the pilot to log a flight plan for Peru. I wrestle with the decision about telling Ashley the information I promised but don’t think I have another choice. The moment I opened my mouth with the promise, I knew there was no going back if I expected to convince her that Brazil was the place to go.

“Running out of time,” Ashley says.

“You have video on that fancy phone of yours?” I ask.

“Of course,” she says, taking out her top-of-the-line cell phone.

“Bring up footage of the group of women hijacking the plane,” I say. “Pause it and zoom in on the woman in the center of the group, the leader, the one they’re all protecting.”

It takes a minute for Ashley to scroll through the video and find the perfect image. The security footage is dark and grainy but there’s no doubt it’s Cassie. I nod and grab a small notebook sticking out of Ashley’s bag. I open it to the first blank page and quickly scribble a few words before handing it to her.

“Contact that place and ask to see a photo of that girl,” I say. Ashley looks at me skeptically. “Hurry, before my time runs out.”

Ashley nods and sends a quick e-mail on her phone before making a call.

“Stephanie, it’s me. I just sent you something to research for me. I need it done ASAP… I know about the crash but this takes precedence. And make sure you don’t let
anyone
know about it. Get back to me right away,” Ashley says before hanging up and turning back to me. “Okay, I’m having my research assistant check into it. I hope you’re right.”

I nod confidently. I know I’m right but hope this is enough to convince her to take us where we need to go. Unfortunately, Ashley’s assistant doesn’t call her back before the van reaches the security gate for the private hangars. An older man in a security uniform approaches the van.

“Miss Lutz, I was expecting you to get here before the other reporters,” the guard says when he sees Ashley. He smiles at her, obviously taken by her beauty. But it’s not long before he glances into the back of the van and sees us. “I didn’t realize you had more passengers. I’m going to need to see some IDs.”

Ashley glances back at me; she must notice my concern and realize we aren’t the kind of people who carry identification. I’m about to grab the van’s door handle to bolt but Ashley remains calm under pressure.

“They’re just my interns,” she says.

“I don’t remember seeing them when you arrived,” the guard says.

Ashley smiles and touches his arm lightly. “Of course you don’t remember. That was a crazy time and you were busy
flirting
with me.”

“If my wife of thirty years heard you say that, she’d kill me,” the guard chuckles.

“Truth is, we were all in such a hurry when we got here that we left our IDs aboard the plane,” she says. “As I’m sure you can imagine, we’re in a big rush
now
to get to the crash site in Peru. But there’s still a lot of story left to cover
here
. Once the plane crash is dealt with, I’ll be flying back here for stories about the heroics on the night of the hijacking. You were working that night, right?”

“I sure was,” the guard says proudly. “Crazy night it was, too. Lotta people got hurt from those crazy ladies. Feel awful about that plane crashing and all those innocent folks getting hurt but at least them girls got what was coming to them.”

“When I come back, could I contact you for an interview? I’d love to hear some firsthand accounts about how you helped make sure more people weren’t hurt,” Ashley says.

The old guy smiles and reaches into a pocket, handing her his card. I can practically see him melting under her charm.

“Never thought these things would come in handy,” he says. “But you better get going so you can beat the guys down to South America. You be careful down there and have a safe flight.”

Ashley thanks the older guard, who waves for the men at the gate to open it up. Relief washes over me that Ashley defused a potentially awkward situation. Within seconds we’re speeding toward the smaller hangars at the back of the airport, where a caravan of news vans makes its way. We sit in the back in silence. While Ashley waits to hear from her research assistant, she remains on the phone, making calls about the best locations to shoot in Peru, setting up interviews with local officials, trying to figure out as much information as possible.

“No confirmation on the status of survivors?” she asks. “I see. Please let me know if they find anyone.”

Ashley seems very capable at her job; I’d gotten the impression from men at the diner that they were jealous of her good looks. Next to me, John taps his foot over and over. He doesn’t have to say how nervous he is about what I told the reporter.