Effigy (51 page)

He glanced up to find Eva breaking free from a line of AFI officers. The agent behind her slowly lowered his rifle and let her go.

“No!” she cried. Her hands were still cuffed in front of her, hindering her haphazard flight. “No, no,
no
!”

Peet stepped aside as she dodged around the chacmool. She collapsed to her knees at the killer’s side, sobbing.

Dazed, Peet picked up the knife only a few feet away and turned it in his hands. It was a marvelous piece of percussion-flaked obsidian, handcrafted by an expert flintknapper, perhaps an ancient one at that. The beautiful weapon was marred by a droplet of his blood mingling with Lori’s along the fluted edge of the blade.

He turned to the chacmool and with one slice, cut the rope from Lori’s wrists. “Are you okay?” he asked, setting the effigy aside in order to sit down beside her.

Lori felt for the cut along her side as she sat up. The bleeding had already begun to stop. “I think so,” she said, looking somewhat surprised. “It was just a glance. He missed his mark.”

“Thank God,” Peet said, pulling her into a hug.
Thank God. Thank God!

Lori melted within his arms and Peet felt comforted by that. Her body pressed against his and through her hair he caught the faint odor of dust and sweat—the perfume of an archaeologist.

When she finally pulled away, she felt her side again and said, “I hardly feel a thing. Do you?”

She gently touched his neck. Peet had nearly forgotten about his own wound and when he touched it, he realized the blood had stopped flowing. He marveled at the precision of their wounds. Obsidian blade technology—far sharper than any surgeon’s blade.

“No. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

He slipped out of the bulletproof AFI vest and draped it around Lori’s bare shoulders. She thanked him as she strapped in tight, but her attention was drawn to the woman weeping behind him.

“Eva?”

By this time, the AFI had circled the killer’s body, whose head was now cradled in Eva’s lap. The black mask of Zorro was smudged with her tears. The killer’s eyes were still open, as if witnessing the sun ease back out of its shadow.

Lori placed her hand on Eva’s shoulder. The woman was inconsolable.

“They shot my son!” she blubbered. “They shot my little Reed One.”

AFI Headquarters

“The theft of the effigy had been discovered three days ago,” Chief Escaban stated upon entering the interrogation room.

The three suspects, Dr. John R. Friedman, Dr. Anthony Peet and one Miss Lori Dewson sat quietly in their seats lined across the length of the table. Escaban took a sip from his coffee and then took his seat across from them. He took another sip if only to prolong the silence and allow himself a moment to study their faces.

Dr. Friedman looked the most comfortable of them all. He sat rather relaxed against the back of his chair, watching Escaban inquisitively over his bifocals. Escaban liked his alert nature and the patience he’d undoubtedly developed with maturity. Friedman was a refreshing change from the erratic sorts he was used to dealing with.

Miss Dewson sat between the men. She too watched Escaban in silence. She wasn’t nearly as relaxed as the elderly gentleman. In fact, she appeared rather stiff and uncomfortable and she chewed on her lip with blatant uncertainty, but it was Dr. Peet that held Escaban’s attention. He was no more relaxed than the young lady, but he’d yet to meet Escaban’s eyes. Instead, he seemed determined to focus on his hands slowly fidgeting in his lap. He had the look of defeat and desperation.

“So the university knows,” Dr. Friedman said in a steady tone.

Escaban set his cup down. “They know.”

He opened a file he’d brought with him but didn’t bother to sort through the paperwork inside. He already knew the gist of it all.

“We’ve notified the FBI which is in turn in contact with the Salt Lake City Police Department. They are requesting custody of the person or persons involved in the theft of the artifact.”

Dr. Peet stopped fidgeting and finally looked directly at Escaban. “So you’re turning us over?”

Escaban sighed. “There are some problems I must address before that can happen. First there’s the issue of an illegally imported artifact.”

Lori scooted to the front edge of her seat. “But Shaman Gaspar—”

“I know. You’ve all explained that in your statements. There’s more.”

Escaban turned to the top page in his folder. “Says here, Miss Dewson, we have you, Dr. Peet and Mr. Derek Riesling on evading federal law enforcement at the site of Teotihuacan, upon which time three of my agents were killed in the pursuit.”

“Out of self-defense,” Dr. Peet said. “We already explained that to you.”

“So you did.” Escaban moved his finger down the page. “And we have here, Dr. Peet, that you and Dr. Friedman escaped AFI custody during the noon hour of the same day.”

He glanced back at them. “These are serious offenses. It’s going to take some time to sort it all out, which is only complicated by the fact that you are citizens of the
United States
. The handling of international criminals can be extremely difficult and prolonged.”

Dr. Peet leaned forward. “How prolonged?”

“Yours is an exceptional case.”

Escaban paused there, letting the silence filter through the room. He scanned across their faces yet again. Their undivided attention was securely centered upon him, hanging on words he’d yet to say. He could tell they were each preparing for the worst. Even Dr. Friedman had begun to stiffen in his posture.

“Well,” the elder said. “I presume there’s no chance of getting out of here any time soon.”

Escaban allowed himself a smile. He sat back in his chair and slapped the file shut. “In your case, Dr. Friedman, it’s already been done.”

There was a sudden shuffling as the three suddenly turned to each other in dumbfounded surprise.

Dr. Friedman turned back to Escaban with an ear slightly tilted in. “What exactly has been done?”

“Your release. All of you, in fact. You are to be deported back to the
United States
promptly.”

Lori was the first to celebrate. She released a joyous shriek, nearly springing from her chair in the process. Her excitement spurred infectious smiles through all of them, Escaban included. However, Dr. Peet maintained a cautious sense of reserve.

“You mean you’re dropping the charges?” he asked in disbelief.

Escaban shrugged. “I have no reason to believe any of you were involved in the transport of the artifact into
Mexico
. We’ve further gathered records on a suspicious private jet that Mr. Gaspar allegedly used to complete such transport. The pilot is yet to be located for questioning but it appears clear to me that none of you were involved.

“Furthermore, I suppose evading arrest can be forgiven by a case of mistaken identity. As it turns out, none of you were the Equinox Killer we thought we were chasing and although you managed to escape custody once you were arrested, the fact that you never left the extraordinary events in Tula and were later cooperative in returning to custody, I see no reason to press further charges.”

“And the officers in
Teotihuacan
?” Dr. Peet asked.

Escaban took a hesitant breath. “That issue is more difficult to ignore. However, it is my belief that the operation in
Teotihuacan
was badly mishandled by Agent Diego, who is currently on extended leave while we investigate some of the questionable actions he took during his involvement with the investigation.”

Escaban glanced at the bruises still healing around Dr. Friedman’s face and added solemnly, “It appears that not all of the PJF corruption was eliminated by the AFI.”

“So we’re really going home?” Lori said, still squirming with excitement.

“I have an agent booking your tickets as we speak.”

“What of Derek?” Dr. Friedman asked.

Escaban took a sip of his coffee. It was cooling much faster than he liked and he was ready to top it off again. “Given your statements and his confession, Mr. Riesling is scheduled to be transferred to FBI custody in one week. I imagine when he returns to the states he will stand trial for the theft of the artifact.”

“And Eva?”

“Miss Gaspar has made arrangements for her father’s burial in Tula de Allende. I have assigned an agent to see to her needs while she awaits the release of her son’s body. It won’t be easy though. The New Age Followers of Quetzalcoatl believe her son defrauded their community. They’re causing a riot in the Zócalo as we speak, demanding justice from this killer’s actions. They’re calling him Acatzalan, whatever that means.”

The three exchanged surprised glances, which Escaban found curious. But, to his relief, the door swung open and two of his agents waited outside. He grabbed his coffee cup and rose to his feet. He felt suddenly light and cheery, as though the heaviness that usually suffocated the interrogation room had been swept out the door. He wondered if the other three felt the same.

He lifted a hand toward the door. “Now if you’ll allow these gentlemen to escort you out, we have some brief paperwork for you to sign and then you can be on your way.”

They all rose, still laden with disbelief, and slowly filed out of the room—Miss Dewson leading the way.

Before leaving, Dr. Peet turned and grabbed Escaban’s hand. “I appreciate everything,” he said. “I’m sorry things had to end this way with your Equinox Killer.”

Escaban smiled. He was beginning to like Americans more and more. As he shook Dr. Peet’s hand, all he could think to say was, “I’ve been told criminals such as this tend to die by their own hand.”

* * * *

Agent Diego was spotted at his favorite coffee stall. It was fortuitous the man stuck to routines, and the boys had no trouble stuffing him into the back seat. In fact, Diego came quite willingly and when he turned around to face the back seat, the agent’s smile nearly spread between the two thugs he was pinned between.

“Zedilla!” Agent Diego said. “My old friend. I was just coming to see you.”

“I’m sure you were,
compadre,
” he said patiently. He flicked his wrist and his driver pulled away from the curb.

Diego stretched, flaring his elbows out for more room. The men on either side of him didn’t budge.

“You’ll be pleased to know I’m back on the cartels.”

“Is that so?”

Zedilla held back. There was no need to inform the agent that he’d learned of his recent suspension. Zedilla didn’t like the sound of the situation. He didn’t like the
smell
of it. A suspension meant an investigation, and investigations could spell disaster for his operations. Least of all, a suspension meant Diego still hadn’t regained his position to divert the AFI squads to the competition.

Agent Armando Diego was of no use to the Zedilla cartel.

“Another shipment was stopped two days,” he said.

Diego smiled with the confidence of a man in control of his destiny. “I heard about the bust,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’ll clean it up. I’m just a little short on
pesos
, if you know what I mean.”