Treasure of the Mayan King (2012) (16 page)

Your loving wife,

Anita

Chauncy found himself grinning as he read the letter. I used to play this with her when we were away from each other. If it wasn’t the Mayan Code, it was the Bible Code!

He quickly started to look up the scriptures. In each, one word was underlined softly in pencil.

Matthew 10:8 “…you received free, give free.”

Proverbs 30:1 “…the weighty message…”

Exodus 2:23 “…their cry for help kept…”

Exodus 16:1 “…coming out of the land of Egypt.”

Joshua 10:9 “…against them by surprise.”

Genesis 8:9 “…brought it inside the ark.”

Exodus 8:6 “…frogs began to come up and cover the land of Egypt.”

Chauncy smiled and read the underlined words:

“Received-message-help-coming-surprise-inside-cover.”

She translated my message! She did it! But what was this “surprise-inside-cover”?

Opening the Bible he carefully ran his fingers up and down inside the front cover. He felt a slight bump. Something was glued inside the cover! Glancing around nervously, he took the Bible and the note with him into the bathroom. Working carefully, he managed to slice open the binding with the razor from his shaver.

A wafer-thin microchip about one inch-square fell out onto the sink.

A large grin spread across Chauncy’s face as his eyes widened. Of course, a micro-transmitter! How brilliant. This has to belong to Kelly - that’s how he’s going to track me down! He most likely will be using a helicopter to rescue me!

Chauncy pulled off one of his shoes. Using the razor he cut a small opening in the shoe’s leather for the transmitter and hid it inside. He ripped the paper containing the decoded scriptures into tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet.

That night he slept soundly.

Chapter Nine

Fuming, Captain Gustavo De Leon glared at the newspaper stand.

Is “The Incorruptible” Blameless?

or

Is “The Incorruptible” Corrupt?

When it wasn’t the media, it was the government pressuring him to apprehend Jose Padilla Madrid. And then there was the American Embassy. It seemed that George Hawkins had a personal vendetta. De Leon had heard that Hawkins was trying to get “The Incorruptible” removed from office, charging De Leon with incompetence and fraud. It was only a matter of time before the bubble burst. He had some evidence that the Mexican military had not been involved. But he needed the complete picture to prove his case, and for the moment, he did not have it.

Arturo kept hitting dead ends as he investigated every possible lead. He knew that some members of his unit had turned their back on their captain. They had been paid off handsomely, De Leon was sure, in order to remain quiet or destroy evidence regarding Madrid”s whereabouts. The captain was furious.

Scowling, he walked into the office lobby. He picked up a newspaper and saw a picture of Mr. Hawkins in a front-page article. He glanced over the article, which read:

Take the Corrupt Ones out of office!

George Hawkins, a representative of the United States Embassy says: “How can our government have trust in your government if corruption continues unabated? Where are the leaders of the military? Why should….

De Leon didn’t bother to finish reading. He threw the newspaper into the trash. Idiot.

As he crossed to his office, Laura greeted him cheerfully. “Good morning, Captain.”

“What’s so good about it?” he grumbled as he walked into his office and slammed the door behind him.

He dropped wearily into his chair. Surrounded by plaques, awards, and photographs of him shaking hands with visiting dignitaries, he thought about all of the years he had served so well.

And for what? he asked himself. It’s all going down the drain anyway.

He logged onto his computer and checked his voice mail while he waited.

“You have twenty messages,” the recorded voice announced.

Probably all complaints. He thought. Unfortunately he was right. Now he had to check his e-mail, equally certain there would be nothing but complaints. Sipping his coffee, he waded through the first four messages with grim determination. The fifth message, though, was different. It was written in English, and his interest grew rapidly as he read it:

Dear Mr. De Leon,

My name is Anita Rollock. My husband, Chauncy Rollock, is the well-known archaeologist who co-wrote a book entitled “The Mayan Mystery, Solved!” five years ago.

We’re vacationing in Cancun my husband was kidnapped. I received a note from the abductors warning us not to contact the authorities. Just a few days ago I received a DVD that had a recording of Chauncy telling me that he was safe, which included an encoded message for me. He indicated that I should get help from a friend in the United States, but that I should also inform you that the person who abducted him was Jose Padilla Madrid. He is somewhere in Yucatan.

We were able to smuggle a small tracking device to my husband. We’ve organized a mission to follow it and rescue him.

Please assist us in any way you can, I fear for my husband’s life. Do not try to contact me in Cancun; I have a hunch that someone here at El Mirador may be working for Madrid.

Desperately needing your help,

Anita Rollock

He closed his eyes, rubbed them, and then opened them again and stared at the message on his screen. He printed out the message and read it again. What if this is a prank?

He looked up the number for the El Mirador in Cancun. Using his untraceable private number, he called.

“Good morning and thank you for calling the El Mirador Hotel. How may I help you?” a cheerful female voice asked.

“Yes, good morning,” De Leon said, in what he hoped was a disguised voice. He figured his voice was well known due to the interviews on television. “Can you tell me if a Mr. Rollock has checked into your hotel?”

“Hold on a moment, sir,” the voice replied. After a moment of mariachi music, the clerk returned. “Yes, sir, we do have a Mr. Rollock here, would you like me to transfer you?”

“Excellent!” De Leon exclaimed. “What an interview! The great Rollock returning to Cancun! Yes, please connect me.”

He waited for the telltale click of the call being transferred, then hung up.

After a few minutes searching on the Internet he reached for his phone and dialed another number.

A recorded message came on:

“Hi! Thank you for calling the Rollocks. We’re not here right now because we’re on vacation in Cancun! Sorry you couldn’t come with us. Please leave a message and we will get back to you once we return.”

He hung up and quickly dialed Arturo’s cell phone.

“What is it, Captain?”

“Get over to my office as fast as you can!”

He walked out of his office and headed toward the restroom, a large smile on his face.

“Good morning, Laura! What a wonderful day! Tell Arturo to wait in my office.”

She stared after him. For the first time in a week, De Leon chuckled.

“Come on in you guys, I’m almost finished,” Anita said as she continued packing.

Kelly, Marlo and Gloria came in.

Kelly smiled at Troy. “Hey young man, how ya doing today?”

“Real cool, Kelly, but I miss my dad.”

“Well you just sit tight my boy ‘cause we’re gonna find him.’

The phone rang, and Anita paused her packing to answer it. “Hello? Yes, that’s me. Right now? I’d rather - well, okay.”

Irritated, she hung up the phone. “It’s the newspaper; they found out that my husband is in town. They want to interview the ‘famous archaeologist.’ I can’t believe this; I really don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She ran a brush through her hair, double-checked her makeup, and then headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Downstairs in the lobby she spotted a young Mexican man wearing garish clothes and thick black sunglasses.

“Ahhh, you must be Mrs. Rollock?” he called out in thickly accented English. “My name is Rolando. I am a reporter from The Mexican Daily. Let’s sit here, no?” he said. He pointed to a sofa and led the way. Anita rolled her eyes and followed him.

“Where is the famous Mr. Rollock?” he asked as he sat down.

Anita smiled politely. “Mr. Rollock left for a couple days. I’m sorry you missed him.”

“Oh yes, yes; I see. I’m so sorry to hear that. We really wanted to interview such a famous person. I guess the paper will be none the worse for an interview with his wife.”

At the end of what seemed a short interview Rolando suggested a photo next to the veranda.

Just a few more minutes of this nonsense, Anita thought as the two left the lobby.

Rolando took out his camera and pointed it at her. “This is a good place for a photo, no?”

As he adjusted the lens, he said quietly: “Mrs. Rollock, my real name is Arturo and I work for Captain Gustavo De Leon.”

“You got my message?” she asked in restrained excitement.

“Yes, but we needed to verify it and get the transmitter frequency. You did not provide it in your e-mail.”

Anita wanted to slap herself. “I can’t believe it. How stupid can I be?” She took Arturo’s writing pad and scribbled the frequency. “There. Now go get him!”

Arturo snapped a picture of her and walked back to the lobby, calling over his shoulder, “Well, Mrs. Rollock, thank you for the photo and the autograph! So sorry I missed your husband. Maybe next time I can see him, goodbye.”

Bursting into the hotel room, she announced, “The Lion is going after his Spanish jailbird!”

Five minutes later they were on their way.

As the plane banked to the left, Belize City appeared through the plane window. Anita was far too preoccupied to enjoy the tropical scenery below. It did not matter to her that the barrier reef below was the second largest in the world. She had no interest in sightseeing or exploring the emerald islands that hugged the coast. All she cared about was Chauncy.

She did have two reasons to be interested in Belize though. The first was that Kelly claimed there was a man there who owned a helicopter they could use. The second was that from Belize it would be easy to fly below the radar into Yucatan.

Driving north toward the township of Orange Walk, Kelly directed Anita to turn down a dirt road. A bumpy half-hour later they arrived at a large clearing.

A junked helicopter and small airplane were surrounded by mechanical bits and pieces. In the middle of the lot was a large old trailer; a tethered dog near the trailer barked incessantly.

A tall, wiry black man watched suspiciously from the door. Wiping his greasy hands with a greasy rag, he shouted, “Watcha want?”

Kelly stepped forward. “Hey man, don’t ya recognize me? It’s me, Kelly Sorenson.”

“Kelly? Kelly? The dude that use to fly with me in ‘Nam?’

“Yeah man, it’s me. We found your place and name by searching the Internet.”

“Well I’ll be a monkey’s hairy tail! Is that you, you old man?”

“Stop it, Charlie, you ain’t gotten any younger either.”

Anita cleared her throat loudly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kelly stammered. “I forgot to introduce these two. Charlie; this is Marlo Gund and Anita Rollock.”

“Pleased to meet ya.” Charlie led them under a large awning made from a camouflage parachute. “What brings ya to my palace?”

“Well, we need two things, Charlie.” Anita was in a hurry. “We need to rent a chopper and we need you to come with us.”

“Hmmm.” Charlie sat down on a rickety chair. He stared, rubbing his chin. “Watch you need it for?”

Kelly answered. “We need to go into Mexico.”

“Mexico? What for? Ain’t they got choppers for tourists?”

“Not with guns on ‘em, Charlie. It’s a rescue mission. Anita’s husband is in trouble.’ Kelly said.

“What kinda trouble - trouble with the law?” Charlie asked with a suspicious glance as he raised his eyebrows.

“No, we need to rescue him from Jose Padilla Madrid and we need you as the side gunner.”

Charlie sprang from his chair in a burst of energy that surprised everyone. “You’re all plumb crazy! What’s the matter with you? You all want me to go gunning down Jose Padilla with a Mini-gun on a chopper in Mexico? Ha, ha, ha, you’re all crazy, man!”

He started to walk toward his trailer, but Anita stood up and followed him. “Now wait just a minute, Charlie, you can’t just walk away from someone that needs your help.”

Charlie spun around and glared at her. “I can and I will, lady. I ain’t gonna risk my life in that jungle shootin’ at no drug lords!”

Anita took her checkbook out of her purse. “What’s your last name, Charlie?”

“Watson, Charlie Watson. Why?”

She wrote on the check, ripped it from the book and gave it to Charlie. After he’d counted the zeros after the one, he looked Anita in the eye. She said, “And there’s another check for the same amount with your name on it waiting for you when we get back from Mexico. I trust the rescue will be quick and easy.”

Charlie looked at the check, then back at Anita. “You don’t realize what you’re taking about. You ever done this before?”

“Of course not.” Anita responded. “But don’t get all self righteous on me. I’m sure you’ve had offers. After all you live here on the border.”

“So? What makes ya think I can be bought?”

Anita gave him a wry smile. “I took acting lessons in school. It’s one of those ‘it takes one to know one’ things. In other words, false indignation doesn’t befit you. You were holding out for more zeros on the check. Am I right?”

Charlie smiled.

Anita took another checkout and shoved it into his greedy hands. “Here!”

“Follow me, ma’am.”

They rounded the corner of the trailer house, where several helicopters in various states of disrepair came into view. One was under a large black parachute. It was to this one that Charlie led them.

“This one here is for special operations,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. As he spoke, he pulled back the parachute to reveal an old U.S. military helicopter.

Kelly stared in surprise. “Wow man…that looks like the one I flew in ‘Nam!’

“Yep, it’s an old Huey; bought it at an auction a long time ago. Brings back memories, eh?”

Kelly walked around the aircraft, the surprise fading from his face. “It still has the guns; do they work?”