Jungle of Deceit (29 page)

When he overheard the murmurs of agitation, and witnessed Alex yanking her arm to seek freedom, Mitch was shocked at the tableau, but there was no time to dwell. Alex was all that mattered to him. He knew her trust was tenuous at best, and now this new betrayal on such an immediate level would probably shatter her beliefs in anyone.

“
Back off, Hasslet.” Wes barked and then jerked his head around Mitch’s silhouette to see if others had followed.

The street was empty.

Mitch held his hands up. “It’s just me, but I go with her.” He nodded at Alex, evading her eyes because they would sap his strength if he witnessed her pain. “You can take us both to Franklin. You have the gun.”

“
He doesn’t want you.”

“
What’s he going to do with her, kill her? His own daughter?”
Keep it analytical, Mitch. Don’t let emotion cloud any judgment.
“And you care so little that you’ll let that happen? I mean, you had me duped, Wes. I thought you had feelings for her. I gotta admit. I was damn jealous of you. I know that wasn’t my place. You had been with her forever, and I’m just some yahoo photographer that showed up, but−”

Aw crap, he caught the sun reflect off the tears on Alex’s cheek.

“
Mitch.” Her voice was hoarse. “Turn around. Go back.”

“
Listen to her, Hasslet.”

“
If I start listening to her, she’ll get all cocky and think that she’s the one wearing the pants in the family.”

“
This is no joke, man.” Wes jabbed the gun against Alex’s side and she winced.

“
I’m telling you, Wes,” he commanded. “Let her go.”

“
Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” Wes cried. “I have the gun.”

“
And, so do I.”

A voice behind Wes made his head wrench around, but the aim of his gun never wavered.

“
Chuck! What the hell are you doing?” Wes’s voice cracked, as did his veneer. Perspiration pooled on his forehead, forming rivulets down the sides of his face. His eyes looked bright and panicked and were flanked with grim wrinkles.

To Mitch’s surprise, Chuck had somehow materialized a weapon. Moments ago, when they uttered a hushed exchange about Alex’s welfare, it was planned to split up in case a third party, namely Solis, showed up. But there was no weapon discussed at the time, otherwise he would have grabbed it.

“
Where’d you get the gun?” Mitch asked, not giving Wes the satisfaction of disclosing his fear.

“
The guitar player was packing.” Chuck said.

“
Look,” Wes backed up so that he could volley his eyes between the two men, “Chuck, I’ve got no beef with you. You know that.”

“
Huh.” Chuck smirked. “What the hell do I know? I would have thought you had no beef with Doc here either.”

“
You guys need to go,” Wes pleaded. “They don’t want you. They just want Alex.”

“
For what?” Mitch took a step.

“
I don’t know.”

Judging from the desperation in Wes’s voice, Mitch believed that.

“
Here’s an idea.” Mitch tried to keep a level tone, still avoiding Alex’s solemn eyes that sought to lock onto his. “You have a gun to you, and you have a two-men-to-one ratio. If you shoot Alex, we both destroy you in a matter of seconds, and what we don’t finish off, Solis will attack the rest of the carcass because you didn’t bring back his prize.”

Mitch paused, letting that vision sink in. “So, that’s one option. The other is that you turn Alex over to us and we let you run−and we’re banking on the fact that you’re not going to run in Solis’s direction.”

“
Man, I’d go with option number two.” Chuck concurred.

Wes looked back and forth between both men, and then towards the dense greenery at the end of the street, calculating the alternatives.

His head slumped down and his hand dropped to his thigh. Alex jolted from his grasp and ran directly to Mitch. He enveloped her in his arms, holding on so tight he thought he would hurt her, but her arms linked around his waist and her face dove into his chest as he felt her tremble.

Chuck moved in and seized the gun from Wes’s hand. There was no struggle. Wes avoided everyone’s eyes, his demeanor a defeated one.

“
Franklin called my cell,” Wes explained. “He−he said she betrayed him on a level that can only be resolved with her being returned to Xibalba. That if she doesn’t
disappear−
his reputation−his respect will be destroyed.”

“
Bullshit.” Anger laced Mitch’s retort. “You were bringing her back to a death sentence.” He held Alex tighter against him, hoping to impede her hearing. “You cared that little?”

“
I didn’t want to do it.” Wes looked at Alex and then pleaded to Chuck. “Knowing that, I didn’t want to bring her to him, but−”

“
Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re a saint.” Chuck nodded, holding the gun steady.

Mitch was relieved that Chuck now possessed Wes’s gun. He doubted the guitar player’s relic could even fire.

“
It pisses me off, Wes.” Chuck spat. “Man, I thought you were my friend.”

“
I was,” Wes sighed.

The sound of a motor filled the air, followed by the rumble of more vehicles as a trio of Jeeps appeared on the far end of the road beneath a cloud of red dust.

“
Shit, Solis?” Mitch swung around.

Alex ground the palms of her hands into her eyes and then squinted into the sun.

“
No, Wes said they’re stationed out in the woods behind us, waiting for him to bring me to them. These Jeeps,” she squinted at the oncoming convoy, “these are the local law. As long as they’re on our side, we’re safe.”

The Jeeps pulled to a stop before them with the engines still running, adding to the heat. A young man stepped down from the compartment. He was dressed in khaki-colored pants and shirt, with a badge of grey stripes sewn onto the short-sleeve, and a rectangular pin attached to his pocket that read, HERNANDEZ. Shrewd dark eyes assessed the situation and he motioned his head towards the guns in Chuck’s hands. Men in similar uniforms stood inside the Jeep, their rifles trained on Chuck. He raised his hands and the muzzles of their rifles rose in tandem.

“
Señorita Langley?” Hernandez accent was substantial.

Alex made a strangled sound of affirmation.

“
A Señor ummm, Neek-ole-suhn has asked me to inform you that he is on his way. He is–como se dice−a
pushy
man.”

Mitch saw relief jolt through Alex, but she remained mute.

“
That he is.” Mitch murmured in her stead.

Beside him, Alex pulled her shoulders back, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice cracked, but she managed to say, “This man is with us.” She nodded at Chuck. Pain then pooled in her eyes as she added, “He is detaining
this
man who is with Miguel Solis.”

At the sound of the name, Hernandez’ face pinched as if he had taken a deep whiff of the garbage cans behind Hotel del Lago. He twitched his head and two men alighted from the Jeep, moving in to flank Wes. Hernandez jerked his chin, and another man reached to claim the guns from Chuck.

“
We will wait unteel your transport arrives.” Hernandez glanced down at his watch. “The van will come from Santa Elena.”

The lure of relief started to douse Mitch, but the bunched muscles at his shoulders refused to relax. He remained focused on the arch of whitewashed masonry at the end of the cobblestone road where he expected a rickety bus to round at any second. Beside him, Alex and Chuck mimicked his stance so that combined, they resembled a herd of gazelle with their heads inclined and alert to danger.

A loud clap rang through the air, the sound ricocheting between the concrete facades. Hernandez reached for his rifle and bowed behind the Jeep door, while shouting orders to get down as several more shots were fired.

Mitch ducked, tugging on Alex’s hand to draw her behind the Jeep, but her hand felt slack in his. The fingers began to relax, withdrawing from his grip−sliding away, like those of Eurydice being pulled back into the underworld. Before he could stop it, Alex’s hand slipped from his.

Shock painted an unsightly image of Alex at his feet, splayed on the ground with a pool of blood forming a macabre crown on the cobblestones above her head. Some of the blood began to seep into the cracks between the loose pebbles as he dropped to his knees, reaching for her, trying to stop that precious life source from feeding the earth.

“
No!” His cry went unheard by the woman in his arms.”

C
hapter Fourteen

“
I’m sorry we didn’t get to do this sooner, but with circumstances being such as they were−”

Nicholson’s voice faded off as he toyed with the miniature jade cow kneeling on a bronze mount−one of many trinkets on his leather blotter.

“
I know.”

Outside the window, Mitch caught a glimpse of the arrowed pinnacle of the Empire State Building behind the adjacent skyscrapers. “But I want to put that behind me.”

“
Right,” Phillip said.

The director of the Musuem of Historical Art and Antiquities looked less polished today. He wore his typical Armani or Brioni or
cannoli
Italian suit, and his full white hair was no doubt styled by one of New York’s finest salons. His eyes were still keen and blue, and he reminded Mitch of those “World’s Most Interesting Man” commercials. Perhaps Mitch’s illusions of grandeur regarding the director stemmed from the first time he laid eyes on him, when Mitch was at his worst and thought the man was Zeus coming down from the mountain.

The next time Mitch saw Nicholson−well it was at the lowest moment in his life and Nicholson was not even visible to him. He was nothing more than a vague shadow and disembodied voice.

But now, looking at him with an unimpaired eye, Mitch saw some flaws in the refined armor. Slightly sagging jowls and deep crevices formed on each side of the man’s lips.

“
Well,”

“
Before we begin−” Mitch cut him off. “You have to answer some questions.”

Nicholson released the jade cow and sat back in his upholstered chair. The office might as well have been an annex to the museum. It had a vaulted ceiling with ornate marble molding and faux marble pillars embedded in the walls, making one believe they were in a Greek temple. The sound of running water filled the room as a brass angel poured a stream into a graceful basin. Artwork from every end of the globe lined shelves on the walls illuminated from lights strategically placed in the ceiling.

“
Go ahead,” Nicholson laced his hands together and touched his joint fingers to his chin.

The questions were about to spill as freely as the torrent running from the angel’s fingertips when the resonance of a door opening echoed inside the vaulted chamber.

Nicholson’s eyes gleamed as he rose behind his desk.

“
There she is,” he announced with a wide smile.

Mitch shared his enthusiasm at the vision that entered the room. Sporting a chic, short bob haircut and a silky red dress that flirted with tanned calves accentuated by the matching crimson pumps, Alex looked like she came straight from the catwalk. She approached with an awkward gait on the high heels as she read Mitch’s expression.

“
Don’t get used to this look.”

The external beauty was obvious, but what humbled Mitch was her strength. He considered Alex to be the most compelling person he had ever met. A glimpse of the single small bandage that remained tucked under her hairline on the side of her neck weakened him to the point that he needed to reach for the back of his chair for support.

She stepped up beside him, her blond bob sliding in motion with her head as she raised it and smiled up at him.

“
Pick up your jaw, Hasslet.”

He grinned and raised his hand to his chin. “The high heels are killing me.”

“
They’re killing me too. Get used to me in boots.”

“
Just boots? I could get used to that. Or better yet, barefoot.”

“
Uhh-hmm.” Nicholson cleared his throat.

“
Phillip.” Alex met the man at the corner of his desk and wound her arms around his neck.

The smile Mitch detected on Nicholson’s lips was that of someone truly content.

“
Alexandra.” Nicholson stepped back and gave her the once-over, his salt and pepper eyebrow arching in approval. “You look beautiful.”

“
You guys are easy to please.”

Looking at her neck, Nicholson’s eyebrow lost its arch. “Sit down.”

“
Really, I’m fine. You saw me at my worst. Tell him, Mitch.” She turned with pleading eyes.

“
She
is
fine, Phillip. The bandage is from the last round of stitches. They wanted to minimize any sign of a scar. That last surgeon in Guatemala City with all his smooth latin charm said,” Mitch aimed for the same accent, “
a beautiful Señorita such as this should not be spoiled
.”