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Authors: Michelle Gagnon

BOOK: Kidnap and Ransom
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Linus suddenly exclaimed and staggered back. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Calderon edged past him. They were on the overhang of a cliff. Past the lip of it he caught a glimpse of sky, stars fading into the horizon. He sighed. No wonder these idiots had gotten caught by the Zetas. No sense of direction. “We’ve come the wrong way.”

“Looks right to me,” Decker said.

Calderon felt a jab in his back, pressing him forward. “What are you doing?”

“Gente taped your conversations. We heard the deal you made.” Flores’s voice seethed with rage. “You lied to me.”

“What?” Smiley protested. “That’s insane. Cesar would never—”

“A lot of men risked their lives coming down here after you.” Decker stepped forward. “And a lot of them died.”

Smiley held up his hands. “Let’s all just take a minute. Those tapes can be manipulated—”

“Is that what happened?” Flores demanded. “They fixed the tapes? And the codes? The blueprints?”

“Cesar…” Smiley turned to face him, doubt in his eyes. “It’s not true, is it?”

Calderon considered proclaiming his innocence, but clearly somehow they’d stumbled across proof. At this point, his best bet was damage control. “In the end, we saved lives. Most of our clients secured release in a few week some a bit longer. That was the beauty of it. They all survived. It’s rare we can say that in this business.”

“Oh my God.” Smiley appeared horrified.

“Don’t judge me, Linus. You know the pressure we were under. The board demanded that we improve the bottom line. And this arrangement worked.”

“I had no idea.” Smiley turned back to Flores and Decker. “Please, you have to believe I didn’t know.”

“So why’d they take you?” Decker asked.

“I terminated the agreement.”

“I don’t get why they didn’t kill you,” Flores said. “I sure as hell would have.”

“Initially Gente thought there was a chance of reestablishing the status quo,” Calderon said. He was suddenly exhausted, as if he’d run a marathon. My God, the havoc he’d wreaked. All for a bit of guaranteed glory and a larger bonus. And now he’d trade everything for his life.

“And you said no? Bullshit,” Flores spat.

“It’s true. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it is. The Esposito case was the final straw. She was just eleven years old.” Calderon’s heart seized at the memory. “They were supposed to take her father, but he wasn’t home when the team went in. He’d woken up with a toothache and booked an emergency appointment at the dentist. So they grabbed his daughter instead. I initially decided on a compact with the Zetas because they were professionals. Lately, however, they were allowing amateurs into their ranks. Anyway, the company’s insurance didn’t cover Jennifer, so the ransom demand couldn’t be met.”

“And you let her die?”

“No, I tried to save her.” Calderon turned to Decker. “I sent in your team. I even offered my own money. The general didn’t care. Once he realized she wasn’t insured, he killed her, partly to cover up the mistake his men had made. That’s when I told him I was done.”

“That sounds like a load of crap,” Decker noted.

“Well, that’s what happened,” Calderon said. “You want to kill me, fine. But you’ve got a pregnant wife, amigo—”

“I’m not your amigo,” Flores growled.

“And Decker, I could make you a full partner in the firm. No more going out in the field unless you want to.”

“I feel sick.” Smiley had gone pale. “All these years we’ve worked together, Cesar. I thought I knew you.”

“Shut up, Linus,” Calderon snarled. He turned back to Flores and Decker. “We’ll start off with a six-figure bonus. What do you say?”

Flores and Decker exchanged a look.

“That’s a lot of money.” Decker scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Hell, I’ve never even seen that much money.”

“He did save my life,” ted out.

“Still, there’s Kaplan.”

“And Monroe, Black…hell, a lot of guys died for this sorry bastard.”

“Don’t be foolish, gentlemen.” Calderon’s eyes narrowed. “If this comes out, Tyr will cease to exist. You won’t have jobs at all. There’s only one smart choice here.”

“He does have a point,” Decker said.

“Yup. What do you think, Decker? You feeling smart today?”

Decker eyed Calderon thoughtfully. Smiley had wrapped his arms around himself and was rocking back and forth. The wind picked up around them, a few raindrops started to fall.

“Probably start pouring in a minute.” Flores glanced up at the sky. “We should be getting back.”

“So we have a deal?” Calderon asked hopefully.

The shove took him by surprise. The ground beneath his feet suddenly disappeared. “Wait! You work for me!”

Calderon’s fingers clawed at the air as he tumbled down, legs working as if he were attempting to swim back up. His body hurtled end over end. The last thing he saw was the branches of a tree reaching up to embrace him.

Decker peered over the cliff edge. Calderon’s body had come to rest in the uppermost branches of a giant ceiba. It swayed slightly, then stilled. “Guess I’m still a dumb shit,” he said, turning back to Flores.

“Guess so.”

“Still hungry?”

“Starving.”

They started to walk back toward the road.

Linus Smiley had dropped to his knees, hands covering his head. Hesitantly he called after them, “What about me?”

“What about you?” Decker yelled back. “You want to follow him?”

“No,” Smiley said in a small voice. He cleared his throat. “Aren’t you worried?”

“That you’ll tell?”

Smiley couldn’t see their eyes in the dark. He nodded once.

“You’re not that stupid. See ya.”

As they vanished into the trees, the clouds opened up and a warm rain started to fall.

Thirty-Six

“You’re sure about this?” Rodriguez asked as he finished attaching the blasting cap to a small wad of C4. They’d decided to err on the side of caution, concerned about a cave-in.

“I’m sure,” Kelly said, although that was the last thing she felt. The very sight of the C4 had opened a hole in her stomach, memories of hurtling through the air, pain everywhere as fireerupted around her. But if she was going to die, perhaps it was only fitting that this time she set the bomb. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Rodriguez shrugged. “We got a little bit of explosives training in basic. I’m no demolitions expert, but C4 doesn’t exactly require a college degree.” He pushed the putty into a small fissure in the wall, then stepped back and crossed himself. “My mother will never forgive me,” he muttered as he backed away.

They withdrew into the tunnel leading to the chamber. Rodriguez hesitated, holding the detonator.

“What?” Kelly asked.

“I was just thinking, there has to be another way. Stefan got through there somehow.”

“If there is, we don’t have time to find it,” Kelly said firmly. “He might have stashed another victim back there.”

“Okay. But if we die, I’m holding you personally responsible.” Rodriguez nodded, and Kelly plugged her ears. He pushed the detonator button.

The resulting explosion was smaller than she’d expected. A cloud of smoke and dust rolled out of the chamber, making her cough. Kelly waved a hand in front of her face to clear the air. Her head pounded, ears smarting from the concussion.

“How long do you think we have until that brings someone running?” Rodriguez asked.

Kelly didn’t intend to stick around to find out. She edged back into the chamber. The dust was slowly settling. A gaping hole punched through the mural, about two feet high and a foot wide. Rubble dotted the floor surrounding it.

“Another blow to Aztec civilization,” Rodriguez muttered.

Kelly stuck her head through the hole. The air on the other side was cooler and laden with condensation. There was an odd smell, metallic and musty at the same time. “Can you get my flashlight out of the pack?”

He handed it to her, and she turned it on. Past the wall was another tunnel, similar to the one they’d entered the chamber through, but slick with water. She panned the light along the sides, then probed the depths. The light vanished into the darkness. Stefan was nowhere in sight.

“He probably heard the explosion, so we’ll have to be careful,” Kelly said. Rodriguez handed her the backpack, and she dropped it through the hole. She pushed her shoulders through, wiggling awkwardly as she dragged her legs behind her. Rodriguez pressed on her good ankle and she fell through, catching herself with her hands as she dropped to the floor. After considerable grunting, Rodriguez followed. They both stood.

“Dios mío,” Rodriguez said. “How did they not know this was here?”

Kelly didn’t have time to wonder about that. Stepping carefully, she made her way down the tunnel. It reminded her of the passages where she’d first pursued Stefan. But those tunnels were beneath a college campus, in existence for a few hundred years at the most. This was clearly much, much older. More murals lined the walls. Rivulets of water coursed down them, making the images appear to weep. Up ahead, she detected a distinct noise. “Is that water? It sounds li

“A river.” Rodriguez panned his flashlight down. The tunnel floor descended at a steady angle, almost like a ramp. And at the bottom, water lapped at the stone.

Kelly descended the ramp slowly, struggling to keep her footing on the slick surface. “It is a river,” she said, astonished, when she reached the bottom.

The tunnel ended abruptly and the ceiling shot up almost thirty feet. The walls were painted with more murals streaked green and brown from condensation. The air hung heavy with mist. The ramp Kelly was on turned into steps that descended into the water. It was impossible to tell how deep the river was, but it rushed past at a steady clip, vanishing into a hole in the wall on her right.

Rodriguez panned his light across the chamber. “Great, an underground river. Just what I was hoping for. I don’t see any boats.”

“I think we’ll have to swim.” Kelly was already briskly stripping off her pack.

Rodriguez rubbed his chin with one hand. “One problem with that, Jones. I’m not exactly a great swimmer.”

“You can’t swim?”

“I grew up in the barrio. Swimming lessons weren’t an option.”

“That’s okay. You stay here, I’ll go check it out.” Kelly tucked her Glock inside the backpack and raised it above her head. Getting wet shouldn’t prevent the Glock from firing, but if possible she’d prefer not to test that theory.

Rodriguez started to follow suit.

“What are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “If you can’t swim, you can’t swim.”

“I can’t let you do this alone. Hell, we’ve come all this way.” Rodriguez grimly unlaced his shoes.

“We don’t even know how far this goes,” Kelly argued.

Rodriguez paused. “You just reminded me of something else on that show.”

“What?”

“These tunnels they found in Guatemala. Apparently they went underground for nearly 800 kilometers, across almost the entire country.”

“See?” Kelly said. “No way you’re swimming that far. And if you start to drown, I might not be able to save you. I don’t float that well myself these days,” she said ruefully, glancing at her foot.

Rodriguez still held his shoe. Kelly could see him deliberating. “Look,” she said. “Get to the U.S. Embassy, see if there’s someone there who can help.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly dawn. Pretty soon someone’s bound to discover the new hole we made. It would be better if you weren’t around when that happens.”

“True,” Rodriguez said. “But what if this does stay underground for miles? I don’t want to lose a partner to hypother

“I’ll be fine. I’ve done almost nothing but swim for months now.”

“We could go to the embassy together, scare up some reinforcements.”

“Stefan came down here for a reason. I promise, if I find him, I’ll just monitor him until you get back. But this river might come out somewhere else in the city, and I don’t want to risk losing him again. Try to find a boat so you can catch up.” Kelly slipped into the water. It was chillier than she’d expected. Her teeth immediately started to chatter. She held the backpack high above her head until the water reached her waist. Taking a deep breath, Kelly lay down, wincing at the shock of cold against her skin. She held the backpack up with both hands, bracing the flashlight alongside it to illuminate the hole in the wall. Kelly stretched her legs out in front of her, pointed downstream. As she floated away, she waved one hand back at Rodriguez.

“Damn it, Jones,” he said with resignation. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

She chose not to reply.

Jake held Mark’s hand. The medic hovered over him, injecting medication into his IV line, eyes continually checking the portable monitor beside the gurney.

Garcia appeared stable. The tourniquet had staunched the flow of blood from his leg, and his color was slowly returning.

“How’s Mark doing?” Jake finally asked.

The medic either didn’t speak English, or thought it best not to answer.

The chopper suddenly banked sharply. Out the cockpit window, a stream of lights appeared. They had to be close, Jake gathered, they’d been flying for nearly an hour.

Suddenly, the monitor started flashing. Mark’s body jerked uncontrollably.

“What’s happening?” Jake asked, panicked.

The medic shoved Jake aside as he fumbled through his medical kit. “Seizure.”

Jake could only watch powerlessly as Mark twitched and contorted. The medic dug out a portable oxygen mask and set it over Mark’s mouth. The monitor bleated once, then settled into a steady monotone drone.

Mark fell still.

“We must…” The medic squeezed the bulb of the oxygen bag, then motioned for Jake to take it. Jake tried to recall his CPR training as he watched Mark’s chest rise and fall. The medic nodded his approval, and Jake squeezed again. The defibrillator machine whined as it charged. Three beeps indicated it was ready.

“Hands, please,” the medic said, pushing the oxygen bag away. He attached one electrode to Mark’s shoulder, then yanked up the bottom of his shirt to attach the other to his lower left abdomen. He pressed the button. Mark’s body contracted once, hard, in response to the electric current. They both watched the monitor. It didn’t change.

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