Alicia myles 1 - Aztec Gold (6 page)

“I doubt it,” Cruz muttered. “I’m the problem, it seems.
Me.
”

“You? How on earth—”

Alicia patted a pocket. “I have a gun. I could take you out if needs be.”

Cruz looked alarmed then resigned. “I don’t know what to say, sir. The elder won’t let you take a look at the codex unless you agree to take me with you on this . . . odd quest of yours.”

“What?”

“They don’t fully trust you. After all you still remain a stranger to them. But me and my mentor, Rivera, they do trust. It is the only way forward, I’m afraid.”

Crouch clicked his tongue, frowning hard. Alicia watched the elder and the elder watched Crouch. Everything depended on their leader’s next few words and the whole village knew it.

“Of course we will take you, Jose. It’s not a problem. But will you come?”

Cruz signaled an affirmative to the elder. “If you’re asking me to join a legitimate quest to find a five-hundred-year-old legendary, priceless treasure then my answer is—damn, yeah!”

The leader held up the sheaf of papers. Alicia saw that they were very old and bound on one side. The man didn’t open the book, but indicated them as he spoke.

“This is the Codex Azcapotzalco as written in the sixteenth century. It is a pictographic, that is a writing system that consists mostly of logograms and syllabic signs. It is written on deer hide and is this village’s most valuable artefact, more valuable even than these elder’s lives.” Cruz bowed deeply. “Please respect that.”

Crouch bowed too. “Thank you for bringing it forward.”

Cruz went on. “Azcapotzalco is the name of the Aztec that wrote the codex, the one that returned. The Nahuatl have studied its meaning for many years and, at least this learned generation, can now decipher the pictures and translate them into words. It is . . .” Cruz paused, creasing his brows. “A poem, I think.”

He clarified with the elder. “Yes, a poem. I think the word has been corrupted though. Either through the ages or by their literal translation. Poem could mean story or even
map.
”

Healey’s face lit up. “As in a
treasure
map?”

Alicia pressed on his shoulders. “Down boy.”

“Azcapotzalco returned many years after the first warriors. Most of the codex is an account of the subsequent lives of the Aztec warriors that decided to stay with the hidden caravan,” Cruz said. “And still more tells of those warriors that mixed with the local braves after the caravan was safe and the ones that returned. There is, however, deep within its pages, a
passage
that points to the place where the treasure was hidden.”

Crouch felt the corners of his mouth twitching and fought to keep them straight. “Go on.”

Cruz listened twice before repeating the elder’s words. “It’s a poem, I think, it has a kind of rhythm. Listen:

“Through the great, endless river you must travel,

“Past canyons and rocks of waves,

“The Shield Arch shows the way,

“But heed our warnings to the mushroom rock,

“Then beyond the known territory of the braves,

“Look between Hummingbird and the ritual for your final guidance,

“And betray the sacrifices of your loyal warriors not.”

Crouch blinked, digesting the information. “It sounds exactly like an original series of pictures translated into modern words, as the elder said. Fantastic.”

Alicia nudged Healey. “You wanna write that down.”

The young solider grunted. “Damn, if only I had one of those eidetic memories.”

“Oh yeah,” Alicia murmured. “Now there’s a thought I have every day.”

Healey caught the sarcasm and asked Cruz to repeat slowly as he jotted it down. Crouch was clearly mulling through the text. “But there’s no starting point,” he said. “It’s all very well to follow those directions, but where from?”

“North,” Cruz said. “The caravans traveled north. And the elder says the ancient Aztecs used to have a method of counting days. They indicated quantities using the requisite number of dots. A flag represented twenty, repeated up to four hundred, and then a sign like a fir tree signified four hundred. They can give us an accurate dateline for the entire march.”

Crouch smiled. “Then it looks like we’re ready to get started.”

It seemed the fates were aligned with them that day. The return trip to Mexico City passed without a hitch, the whole team newly energized by the thought of finally being able to pursue a real treasure. Slumped down in the passenger seat, Alicia allowed the team’s exuberance to enliven her whilst staying razor-sharp and objective in her head. The molten sunset gave way to pure, impenetrable black. Not even the stars proved their silent shimmer tonight.

As the journey continued, she tried to stay awake.

Crouch noticed her predicament. “You have to trust your team sometime, Alicia.”

Another reminder of how astute her boss was. “Doesn’t have to be tonight though.”

“Well look at it this way. My guess is that between now and when we find the treasure this is the
least
danger we’ll be in.”

“
When
we find the treasure?”

Crouch grinned in the gloom. “I’ve always been a pretty confident kinda guy.”

“Yeah. Combine that with your sentimentalism and you’re a hard act to keep up with.”

“You mean ‘get along with’?”

Alicia pursed her lips. “No, but if that’s what you like to think . . .”

Crouch drove in silence for a while. As they breached the outskirts of Mexico City, Alicia thumbed the walkie that connected their car with the one ahead.

“Stay alert, you guys. No slacking. This ain’t the time to be missing something.”

No let up.

*

Back in their temporary HQ, they found a surprise waiting for them.

Caitlyn Nash.

With short black hair and piercing blue eyes, Caitlyn had a body created through regular visits to the gym and the quick, nervous smile of a geek. She was twenty one years old, completely untrained in combat, but one of MI6’s best real-time analysts. Part of her job had also included collecting any historical data relevant to the task at hand—an undertaking she had excelled at.

After meeting her Alicia wondered just one thing.
Why the hell is she here with us?
Not in a bad way, not because she doubted the woman’s skill, but quite the opposite. Twenty one was a damn young age to have burned out.

Still, Caitlyn was here and eager to prove her worth.

Alicia put Healey on watch and listened as Caitlyn outfitted the team with some new gadgets. There were Bluetooth comms, to be inserted in the ear, which worked full time unless you double-tapped to close the gadget.

“Just make sure you switch them off before you start doing anything umm . . . private,” Caitlyn said with a little blush.

Alicia turned to Healey. “Shit, the kid will de double-tapping every three hours.”

Even Russo laughed. Healey turned as red as Caitlyn. The new analyst continued in a hurry, “Once we have the new mini wireless cameras fitted into all your equipment we’ll have full-time, always-on documentation and analysis between site and base. Essential for proving providence and ownership, trust and true intentions. Those are the priority features for now, guys. Don’t worry, it won’t take long to set up.”

Alicia nodded, pleased. The idea of documenting everything they discovered through video link was sound as far as it went. She wondered how capable the link signal was but didn’t query it at this point. Crouch would have thought of pretty much everything. Even their new reluctant addition, Jose Cruz, accepted a comms system, clutching his hands together as he did so as if praying for good fortune. Once she’d outfitted all the earphones and connected them to the main network, Caitlyn set about installing the micro cameras.

Alicia watched her work. The young girl fairly whistled as her dexterous fingers flew between chores. Bent to her task she seemed happy, content. Perhaps she felt safe in her own world, surrounded by another world of highly trained men and women, insulated. Alicia thought that her pasty complexion might attest that she never got out much, but then remembered that she lived in England.
Either way
, Alicia thought,
Caitlyn’s an odd package and worth keeping a close eye on.

Christ,
she thought.
Listen to me. Since when did I decide to take on these kind of responsibilities?
Was it since she’d started running with Matt Drake and his team, each member’s deep sense of accountability to the crew rubbing off on her? Was it since the man she thought she might love died in a wild, legendary battle on a windswept bridge late at night? Harleys and Ducatis versus cars and machine guns. Or had this quality been merely overlooked ever since she returned home to save her mother from her father’s bruising hands only to find the two of them dead, her mother from an overdose and her father from alcohol poisoning four months earlier.

Caitlyn smiled at her, fresh face lighting up and reminding her uncomfortably of Healey’s. “Almost done.”

Alicia just thought,
Shit, I’m a fucking child minder here.

Russo rose to his feet, mumbling about turning in to get some sleep. Maybe the mountain was having similar thoughts to her. Crouch was riveted to his laptop whilst following Healey’s hastily scribbled notes about the codex. The poem had been jotted down along with the calendar that the elders had translated from the original text. Crouch was trying to make sense of it all and, judging by the set of his shoulders, not doing too well. Cruz was seated alongside, reminding him about the numerous Aztec inscriptions found in several areas of North America.

A voice at her shoulder snapped her attention around. “I thought those guys might’ve jumped us again,” Lex said with a malicious little grin. “Y’know, when we were on the road. Was hoping for it actually.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Alicia told him. “Coker’s boss is the real danger here. There’s plenty of action to come before we ride home holding the winner’s trophy aloft.”

As if in corroboration of her statement the entire front window of their rented ground floor apartment lit up. It was a picture window, wide and arguably vulnerable, but equipped with remote control smart glass that turned opaque or transparent blue at the touch of a button. Thus, the team had turned up the juice and considered it safe. Now, Healey’s squawk wailed through the various walkie-talkie handsets discarded around the room.

“Christ, they’re coming in hard and tooled up. Get the hell outta there!”

Alicia responded without a moment’s pause. Her lifestyle demanded that she be ready to react instantly at any time of the day. Before anyone moved Alicia was already racing over to snatch up her weapon and motioning people toward the rear door.

“Get down!” Healey hissed through the new comms. “
Get down now!
”

Alert and fired up, the team dived headlong, Caitlyn the only one that looked a little ungainly. Instantly the entire picture window exploded behind them, gunfire ripping it to bits. Glass chunks scythed through the air, embedding deep into furniture and appliances, and cascading down from the wide frame in a razor-edged torrent. Alicia swiveled on the floor and fired between her heels, a spray and pray, hoping the return fire might slow their enemy’s advance. Healey was tracking them and screaming through the comms.

“Climbing outta four big trucks. Semi-autos and handguns everywhere, no attempt at concealment. I don’t see Coker. These guys look and act like pros, not like the goons we fought before . . .”

As Healey provided the running commentary, Alicia urged her team to crawl forward. Crouch and Cruz were in front, using elbows and knees to slide along the polished floor in the direction of the kitchen. Caitlyn came next, barely moving, her head almost buried into the laminate.

Alicia scooted next to her. “Grab my arm,” she hissed. “Now.”

As soon as the young woman reached out, Alicia took hold of her elbow and dragged her across the floor. The two slithered fast, smashing into a set of chair legs, but staying low as another salvo of bullets raked the air. Alicia heard the girl whimper.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she said a little prematurely. “Don’t worry. It’s the map they want not you.”

Despite the reassurance Caitlyn barely looked up. Alicia’s mind turned to how well the analyst might be able to cope with the forthcoming mission and wondered if Crouch may have made another mistake. Carefully, she placed a hand on Caitlyn’s blond hair.

“I’ll look after you,” she said, hardly believing her own words and the inherent responsibility in them. “Stick with me.”

She’d refrained from saying
trust me.
Because that was inviting disaster and just never worked out.

Russo took his turn to lace the air with lead. Through the shattered glass Alicia could now make out three sets of large round headlights, all blazing on full beam and clearly illuminating the apartment’s interior. Crouch was already at the kitchen, Cruz a quick shuffle behind. Lex was next. Alicia hauled Caitlyn along whilst firing backward and keeping an eye to their flanks. Their prospects weren’t good.

“Healey.” She tapped her comms. “Make sure you keep our right side clear. We’ll be coming fast.”

“Already on it.”

Alicia dragged her charge again, but now Caitlyn was helping and moving under her own steam. As they passed Crouch’s laptop still open and switched on atop the table—and miraculously untouched—Alicia noted that Crouch had already pocketed their interpretations of the Aztec poem along with whatever their boss had been working on.

Great move.

As if in response, the laptop suddenly whirled and danced under fire and blew apart. Alicia saw a shadow cross one of the headlights. Bad mistake. She squeezed her trigger and heard a gratifying scream. When an enemy started taking casualties it always slowed them down—assuming they were relatively sane that was.

Russo scuttled behind her, now the last man. Alicia took the opportunity to help Caitlyn along, practically flinging her into the kitchen. Crouch had upended the tall refrigerator and pulled out the oven, and was now standing over it.

“What?” Alicia stared. “You cooking bacon and eggs? You really think that’ll help slow ‘em down?”

“No,” Crouch answered quietly. “I’m turning it on and disengaging the gas pipe. Even the smell should make them think twice.”

Cruz was approaching the back door. Alicia yelled, “Wait!” and contacted Healey.

“Where are you?”

“Out back. I can see Cruz, the idiot. Go now. The coast is clear.”

“Move!”

Alicia leaped forward, guiding Caitlyn by the arm. Bullets again slammed into the walls behind them and now came the crunch of broken glass as booted men stepped over the devastated sill. Bloodthirsty shouts followed them.

Alicia stepped it up. Russo breathed down her neck. Cruz slammed open the rear door and dashed out into the dark, closely followed by Crouch with pistol drawn and poised. Lex came next, moving like a TV caricature of a special-forces soldier, and then she cradled Caitlyn through the door.

Cool air greeted her. The apartment’s rear was a small grassy yard, bounded on two sides by a scraggly hedge and open to the back. A short wall and rusted gate led to a narrow alley. Healey was already beckoning them toward it.

“Keep it moving, guys. I have no eyes to your right.”

Cruz raced straight for the young soldier. Crouch angled right, staying low. Two pops from his handgun told Alicia the enemy were too close. And why the hell weren’t police sirens braying at the night skies? In any other country the cops would be all over this by now. But here in Mexico City . . . business as usual, she imagined.

Behind her Russo unleashed a burst of fire. A stray bullet passed through his coat, making him grunt, then lightly grazed Alicia’s arm—the touch barely registering—before continuing its flight down the alley. That, as much as anything, told Alicia a fact that she’d assumed from the start—they were being hunted tonight, not warned.

Caitlyn yelped as if sensing the nearness of the bullet. Alicia sympathized for the girl’s utter bad luck—she had only just arrived after all—but now wasn’t the time. Crouch was engaged ahead, struggling with an opponent. Alicia pushed Caitlyn toward Healey and branched off to help her boss. When the man struggling with him registered her presence, momentarily taking his attention off the battle, Crouch felled him with a jab to the throat.

Two more adversaries took his place.

Crouch brought his gun up, but found his arm wrenched sideways. He took a blow to the gut. Alicia stepped in, sidekicking Crouch’s opponent whilst pulling her own into an arm-breaking waltz. The arm was quickly followed by a knee. Crouch swung his weapon up and fired. The two pulled away.

Healey was already sheltering Caitlyn in the alley. Russo was ahead of them. The sound of breaking glass told her he’d smashed a window, the shape he stood next to, towering over him, told her that it was a van. Both she and Crouch ran for the head of the alley, firing back toward the house to deter their pursuers.

But by now, several enemy combatants had secured good positions. Bullets blasted through the dark, the position of the shooters clear because of the unsilenced weapons. For Alicia it was a mad, surreal moment; caught out in the pitch black with deadly fire strafing to left and right of her, Crouch at her side, unable to take cover or offer any kind of defense. It was blind luck that they escaped.