Viper's Nest (11 page)

Cate turned to Marcus who was pulling down the blinds on the window. ‘For goodness’ sake,’ she pleaded, ‘will someone please put me out of my misery and tell me
what’s going on?’

The laptop flickered in the darkened room. On the screen Cate could see pictures of an ancient Mexican site, very similar to the one she and Ritchie had seen on the news the night before. The
camera panned around the soaring pyramids and crept into darkened tunnels, before stopping in a large stone chamber.

In the centre of the room, a gold-covered tomb was raised up on square boulders and, as the camera zoomed in, Cate let out a gasp of amazement. Piled almost haphazardly around the base of the
tomb was treasure. Terrifying death masks with eye slits inlaid with turquoise lay on top of gleaming silver drinking cups; gold-tipped spears and dull metal shields were slung side by side on a
heap of gold chains and coins.

Behind the tomb, two squat young Mexican men with machine guns slung over their broad shoulders were grinning broadly at the camera, gesturing with a thumbs-up their delight at the sight in
front of them.

‘Wow,’ said Cate to no one in particular. ‘Cool. Good old-fashioned treasure.’

She heard Henri cough behind her. ‘Antiquities, Cate. Found at Christmas, in a secret tomb after the excavation of a pyramid in north-west Mexico. Objects dating back well over a thousand
years, some of them older than that. All made by tribes and cultures that are long gone. They are priceless things of total beauty that, by rights, belong to the Mexican people and indeed, to all
of us. The find was kept top secret, with just a handful of people who lived and worked on the site knowing about it. The treasures were due to be moved to a museum to be listed and catalogued and
electronically tagged before being kept in a perfect protective environment – to preserve them for us and for future generations. Then this happened.’

He stopped and reached down to the keyboard and another shot of the chamber appeared on the screen, but now the tomb was overturned, the treasure all but gone, just a few coins scattered across
the floor. As the camera moved around the chamber, Cate saw with horror that the stone walls were now splattered with blood. In the corner were two bodies, their legs splayed at unnatural angles,
dark stains seeping from beneath them. She looked away.

‘As you can see, despite the best efforts of those two brave guards and a top-notch security system, somehow this happened.’

Cate forced herself to look at the screen again, noting the bullet holes that riddled the ceiling, the smashed stonework of the tomb. It was like a battle zone, in a darkened underground
chamber. There would have been no hope of escape from the deadly bullets as they ricocheted off the walls, ripping indiscriminately through the bodies of the trapped men. She pushed the horrible
image away and turned back to Henri, forcing herself to concentrate on what he was saying.

‘That heist happened three months ago,’ he explained gesturing at the screen, ‘but between then and now there have been three other similar raids across Mexico, stealing from
on-site museums or displays. The antiques have simply vanished into thin air. In the last one before El Tajin, two Mexican tourists who were camping near the site heard a noise and went to
investigate. They were found dead.’

Henri sounded matter-of-fact, but Cate knew better. She had worked with IMIA long enough to know that, to them, every unnecessary death was a tragedy, every life was worth saving. That was what
made them so good at their job and so sought after by every government in the world to solve their most difficult crimes.

‘So then you were called in. But why IMIA? You normally only deal with maritime crimes.’

‘We were already in this part of the world,’ said Marcus. ‘We’d heard that there was an Al Qaeda plot to blow up the entrance to the Panama Canal, but the information
turned out to be dud. We were about to pack up and leave for Europe when a contact from the Mexican government approached us.’

Marcus hit the keyboard again. A map of Mexico flashed up, studded with red dots. ‘Every raid has taken place on sites near to the coast,’ he said, pointing at the dots. ‘They
wanted to explore the possibility that the antiquities may have been smuggled out by sea. We started to make enquiries, to put out feelers. Then El Tajin happened. The Mexican government is in
utter panic. Up until then they managed to keep the heists quiet, but now the victims are US and European citizens. This takes it to a whole new level. It’s bad enough if a tourist wanders
into the wrong area of town and gets caught in some crossfire, but when the actual tourist sites become the targets – well, that’s a very worrying trend. The Mexican government has seen
what happened in Kenya when the Somalian bandits moved into the tourist areas. It decimated their tourist industry overnight.’

‘So you don’t believe that the twins – or any of the students – were involved in the crime?’ Cate asked. She turned to Dave Osbourne. ‘That’s what
Johnny James had heard.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘That sounds like a rumour put about to deflect from the real truth: that this gang is becoming more and more ruthless.’

‘When the students couldn’t be found, we thought there was a good chance that they had been smuggled out by sea, too,’ explained Marcus. ‘We sent up planes, checked all
suspicious shipping, even sent down specially-equipped submarines to search underwater in case they had been taken out that way. We found nothing.’

‘What do you think has happened to them?’ Cate asked.

Suddenly no one would look Cate in the eye.

Outside, she could hear a dog barking and children laughing as they played on the beach below them. Her room was freezing cold now, the air conditioning set far too high, the warmth of the
sunshine blocked out by the blinds.

Cate looked at her watch – it was eight-twenty a.m. Less than twenty-four hours since she had landed in LA, and so much had happened. She felt as if she was at the start of a rollercoaster
that was slowly but surely gathering speed, and she was stuck on it for the duration of the ride, no matter how wild and how scary it turned out to be.

‘Why are you undercover at this hotel?’ Cate suddenly asked Rosie, who was sitting quietly on the bed. ‘What’s so special about the Erin?’

Marcus, not Rosie, replied. ‘When we said that the antiquities vanished into thin air, that wasn’t quite right. The major pieces, sure. They haven’t been seen since they were
stolen. But a few weeks after the first robbery some smaller pieces – bits of jade, the odd bead necklace, a dagger – were already appearing on the black market. We put some of our
internet experts on it and, sure enough, every few weeks something would pop up for sale on the dodgy trading sites where few questions are asked. At first we thought that they must be fakes. We
couldn’t believe that anyone would be so dumb as to start selling off the goods from these huge heists. So last week we made an offer for a brooch, agreed a cash payment of ten thousand
dollars, and were sent instructions for collecting it. We were told to wait outside the Erin at sundown,’ he continued. ‘A man arrived in his pick-up truck, came into the bar and went,
as arranged, to the corner seats by the window. A good-looking guy, big, broad and very careful. He didn’t show us the brooch right away – but once he thought we were for real, he
handed it over. It was genuine, all right – a one-thousand-year-old Mayan brooch from one of the sites that had been attacked. He told us there was more where this came from and that if we
wanted to see him again all we had to do was leave a message at the Erin’s front desk. He was our one real lead, so there was no way we were going to arrest him – well, not then,
anyway. So we just let him walk right out of the door and get back into his truck.’

Marcus rubbed at his eyes. He looked tired, thought Cate. Stressed. Not the usual laid-back Marcus who had held her hand and guided her through two missions, who had always been there to lift
her spirits with a joke or a smile.

‘I’m guessing you had him photographed and ID’d in about twenty seconds,’ said Cate.

Marcus nodded. She could see the embarrassment mixed with concern on his face and, worst of all, she could see pity. She was beginning to feel sick.

‘Who was he, Marcus?’ she said, already dreading the answer. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated again.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll say it for you. The man was Burt Tyler, wasn’t he? My mum’s boyfriend.’

Marcus nodded. ‘We ID’d him as a regular at the Erin – which is why we put Rosie in place. Then we put a tail on him right away of course.’ He tried to smile. ‘We
were just in the process of ID’ing his girlfriend when we intercepted a call from her telling Burt that her daughter, Cate Carlisle, was coming over to visit. That was a nice surprise, a
bonus we couldn’t overlook.’ He shot Cate an apologetic look.

‘So you got my mother delayed in Mexico and led me straight to the Erin,’ Cate said flatly. She was trying hard to contain her rising anger.

‘You got it,’ Henri said curtly. ‘You know as well as we do, Cate, that, like it or not, we have to use everything at our disposal. Including a sixteen-year-old girl with an
uncanny gift for spying.’

Cate started to argue, but he raised his hand.

‘Yesterday you went to Mexicano Magic – Tyler’s shop. Dave said you saw three men acting suspiciously and you rattled them enough for them to lock you away – even
threaten to kill you. Cate, you can’t hide away from this. Burt is definitely caught up in something very murky indeed.’

Cate’s anger suddenly gave way to panic. ‘My mother,’ she said, ‘do you think she’s involved in any of this? Do you think she has any idea what’s
happening?’

‘The truth is we just don’t know yet.’ Henri shrugged. ‘So far, Burt Tyler is the only lead we’ve got.’

‘And you’re going to be closer to him than any of us could ever hope to get,’ added Marcus. ‘Cate, I know what we’re asking of you and I understand why you would be
angry that we are dragging you back into our world. But you’re the best chance – maybe the only chance – we’ve got of stopping these dreadful crimes and of finding your
friends Amber and Jade before it’s too late.’

Cate sat down on a stool next to Marcus, her mind in utter turmoil.

IMIA had asked so much of her already – she had risked her life for them, spied on her own friends, even lost her boyfriend Michel because of them. To be asked to spy on her own
mother’s boyfriend – and possibly even her mother – was too much. But if she didn’t . . . well, the message had been clear. By refusing to help IMIA she would be putting her
friends at risk. It was a horrendous position to be in.

‘Lucas Black was right.’ Cate looked down at her hands. ‘He told me in Australia that I didn’t have any idea what I was mixed up in, that I was way too young to be
working for you, and that you should leave me alone. He’d been in the army, in counter-intelligence. He knew what I didn’t – that spying isn’t something you can dip in and
out of when you want. It’s a trap and, once you’re stuck in it, it’s almost impossible to get out.’

Marcus made a sound of protest, but she carried on regardless. ‘And my dad knew exactly the things you are capable of doing. That’s why he was so mad at you in France – he
didn’t want his daughter anywhere near you.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve been so dumb. I thought I was clever, but I was dumb.’

‘No, Cate!’ Marcus said. ‘You’re one of the brightest, sharpest teenagers I’ve ever met.’ His face softened. ‘We have asked an awful lot of you and we
still are. But IMIA need to tackle these awful crimes. You’ve helped to make the world a much safer, better place. How many sixteen-year-olds can say that?’

There was a long silence.

Cate managed a tiny smile. ‘It’s not exactly something I can put on my university application form though, is it?’

Marcus flashed his toothy grin. ‘We just keep an eye on Tyler, try and work out who his contacts are, where he’s been recently, who he hangs out with. Oh, and have this.’

He handed her a small metal tin. She opened it to find a couple of tiny listening devices, each with a satellite tail hanging from it like a thread.

‘We need one in his car and in his phone,’ Marcus said, ignoring her stricken look. ‘Once they’re in place, you can forget all about it.’ He sighed. ‘If I
didn’t think for one minute that you were capable – more than capable – of getting us what we need, I wouldn’t ask you. And neither would Henri.’

‘Cate,’ said Henri, who had been pacing impatiently around the room while Marcus talked, ‘face facts. It’s your friends and your mother who are somehow caught up in this
crime. We have to get to the bottom of it.’

Much as Cate wanted to pretend that the whole thing wasn’t happening, she knew that running away from it wasn’t going to save her mother from investigation – maybe even arrest
– nor would it help the twins.

Henri coughed. ‘Look, I’ll make a deal with you. If you help us, plant the bugs, get us some information, I promise that, whatever you or we find out, I will do my utmost to protect
your mother from the fallout.’ He looked her straight in the eye, and this time there was no hostility, just respect and sincerity. ‘I give you my word as the head of IMIA.’

The silence in the room seemed to last for ever. Cate sighed. Her mother was flaky, irresponsible and downright daft sometimes, but Cate was sure she wasn’t a criminal.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said eventually. ‘But you’ll keep your promise, won’t you?’

‘It’s a done deal already,’ Henri said firmly.

He put his hand out to Cate and, after a few seconds’ hesitation, she shook it.

‘Welcome back, Cate Carlisle,’ said Henri.

‘Please be there, Arthur, please answer.’ Cate was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her tablet leaning against a stack of pillows while she desperately tried to
reach her brother on Skype.

She checked her watch again. It was quite late in London but she knew Arthur would still be up.

‘Hey, Cate.’ Suddenly his face was on the screen. ‘I was expecting you to call much later. I didn’t even get to check my new invention! I’ve just fitted a
recognition system in the Skype software to remotely activate my alarm clock if your number rings. I don’t want to be woken up by some computer mate in Australia going on about their latest
hacking logarithms.’