The Mayan Codex (65 page)

‘I’ve got them.’ Calque snatched a set of keys off a communal hook set into the end of the display cabinet.

‘Try them.’

Calque aimed the keys at the Hummer. There was an answering click-click. ‘We’re in business, Sabir. I hate to restate the obvious, but you’d better drive.’

Sabir threw the guns and the rucksack containing the skull and the codex onto the back seat. Then he helped Calque into his seat, and belted him in.

‘Wait. Let me out again.’

‘Are you crazy? We haven’t got much time left.’

‘Let me out, I say.’

Sabir unbuckled Calque from his seat and helped him from the vehicle.

‘Find me something flammable.’

‘For Christ’s sake. You don’t mean to burn this place down?’

‘I’m a policeman, Sabir. Have been all my life. I can’t let this filth get out onto the streets. If you don’t want to help me, leave. But I’ve got to do it. I’ve just got to.’

Sabir sighed long-sufferingly. ‘You’re right. I should have thought of it myself, of course. But I was too busy thinking about my own skin and yours to give much of a damn about ten thousand complete strangers.’

Both men began ferreting through the detritus surrounding the industrial vats.

Then Calque straightened up. ‘I saw hand grenades, didn’t I?’

‘Gold-plated ones. Yeah. They’re probably fakes. You can’t persuade me that anyone in their right mind gold-plates a live hand grenade. But we should be able to tell if they’re real by the weight.’

‘Worth a try, then. Crystal meth produces a highly flammable vapour. The slightest spark can ignite it. Chuck a grenade into one of those vats and the whole place would go up.’

‘The death grip. How opposite. Yes. With us in it.’

‘We’d have eight seconds. Isn’t that right? Particularly if you back the Hummer right up to the vats, Sabir.’

‘Five seconds, not eight. Just how long ago did you do your military service, Calque? The Franco-Prussian war? You like to live dangerously, don’t you?’

‘You’re the one to talk. Shall we do it?’

‘You take one vat and I’ll do a second. But I won’t have time to strap you back in. You’ll have to take your chances leaning out of the window. If you fall out, I leave you. Okay?’

‘Who did they torture, Sabir? You or me?’

‘You, I’m glad to say.’

‘Did you leave me then?’

‘Stupidly, no.’

‘Then you’re not going to leave me now.’

Sabir backed the Hummer up to the nearest of the industrial vats.

Both men removed the safety pins from their grenades, keeping their fingers tight down on the spoons.

‘You on the death grip, Calque?’

‘The death grip. How apposite. Yes. I’m ready.’

‘I’ll call it. Okay? To a count of three.’

‘Okay.’

Calque was half-in half-out of the Hummer’s front window. He had a six-foot throw to the nearest vat. Sabir’s throw was about eight foot. The Hummer’s engine was throbbing quietly beneath them.

‘One. Two. Three. Fire in the hole!’

Both men threw their grenades.

Sabir launched himself back onto the front seat, grabbing Calque by the shirt as he did so.

He engaged the Hummer’s automatic gearshift and aimed it up the ramp.

Then he began to pray.

Emiliano Graciano Mateos-Corrientes stood down his snipers. He had the entire eighteen-hectare warehouse site ringed with his men. No one could escape. The ones that had run, shooting, from the warehouse, were all being herded towards the cenote – that was the obvious place for them to go. The rest were dead.

It was still somehow inconceivable to Emiliano that a bunch of gringos should come all the way down to
the Yucatan simply to take over his crystal meth factory. Were they insane? Didn’t they know he had fifty foot-soldiers under his command, all armed with the latest weapons? That he had snipers equipped with the most up-to-date ‘light fifty’ Barrett M107 rifles, complete with Leupold 4.5 x 14 Mark-iv scopes and AN/PVS-10 day/ night optics? And that these snipers knew how to shoot the nipples off a three-year-old?

Crazy. Crazy.

He spoke briefly into his walkie-talkie.

What annoyed him the most was that the gringos had managed to time their incursion exactly right. Normally, there would have been a minimum of fifteen men guarding the factory. But someone – that fucker Pepito, probably – must have tipped the gringos off that with the consignment now ready, Emiliano was treating his foot-soldiers to the best whores and liquor his brothel in Mérida could provide. It was the Day of the Dead, man. His men expected to let their hair down once in a while. And he had the local police and most of the local politicians in his pocket. What did he have to fear? A bunch of gringos invading his territory? Jesus.

The Hummer burst out from the basement area of Emiliano’s warehouse and up the escape ramp. The Hummer appeared to hesitate, and then made straight for his command vehicle. Emiliano could see two men in the front seats.

His mouth fell open.

As he watched, he heard two explosions deep in the bowels of his warehouse. Then there was a brief silence. It was followed by the equivalent of a vast intake of breath, as the meth vats caught fire. Then the warehouse literally burst from its moorings, its corrugated iron roof rising on a crest of over-heated air. When the roof was
about thirty feet up, it flipped over onto its side, as if a sudden gust of wind had caught it.

Emiliano instinctively ducked down beside his Toyota Roraima. As he did so he noticed the rear of the approaching Hummer rising on a tide of hot air, and then smashing down again.

The Hummer was coming straight for his Toyota.

He threw himself to one side, shrieking.

The Hummer clipped his foot as it passed, pulverizing the bone, and twisting the foot three times around on the remaining skin and gristle. Emiliano hit the ground and rolled himself into a ball. He knew something terrible had happened to him, but not quite what.

When he tried to stand up, his leg collapsed beneath him, and he caught his first glimpse of the disaster that had been his foot.

He began shrieking in earnest, now, and calling for his mother.

Abi, Dakini, Nawal, and Rudra lay fanned out in the gravel at the cenote’s edge, listening for any pursuit. Their guns covered a 180-degree radius, with the cenote behind them forming the remainder of the circle.

‘Did you see what happened to Oni?’

‘No. He just disappeared. I think he went in the opposite direction to us.’

‘That figures.’

They all laughed. Their faces were streaked with dust
and sweat, and Rudra had Berith’s blood all over him.

‘I’m going to take a look around the corner of the cenote. See if there’s any way out. Come running if I whistle.’

Abi got to his feet and began a hunched zigzag run towards the far corner of the cenote. There was a burst of machine gun fire, and he threw himself down flat. Then he wriggled back into cover.

‘Thought so. They’ve got us surrounded. They can’t bring their guns to bear on our backs, thanks to the cliff face, so they’ll have to come at us from the front.’

‘Is there any way out down there?’

Abi crawled to the edge of the cenote and looked down. ‘No. No caves. No walkway. Nothing. It just goes straight down like a chimney. But at least we won’t go thirsty. I hope to heck they don’t bring in mortars. I wouldn’t put anything past these guys.’

‘How many do you think there are?’

‘Too many.’

There was an explosion from over by the warehouse. The corrugated iron roof flashed briefly in its slow-motion trajectory over the trees, and then flipped over onto its side and vanished.

‘What the heck was that?’

‘Five million dollars’ worth of crystal meth going up in smoke. Not to mention half a million dollars’ worth of narco-bling. If they were angry before, think what they’re feeling now.’

Rudra began to laugh. ‘Are you telling me they succeeded in blowing up their own factory? What was that you said about mortars?’

Abi shook his head. ‘It wasn’t mortars. We left Sabir and Calque inside, didn’t we?’

‘Yeah, but they’d never have freed themselves in time. They’ll have gone up with the building.’

‘Are you sure?’

Rudra thought about it a little. ‘No. You’re right. I didn’t tie that bastard Sabir’s legs up, did I? Didn’t think I needed to. What a fool. I should have hamstrung him while I had the chance. I thought we had all the time in the world.’

‘All water under the bridge now.’

‘What do you think is going to happen to us, Abi?’ It was Dakini.

‘We’re going to die. That’s what’s going to happen to us. How, is up to us.’ Abi turned over onto his back and eased his cell phone out of his pocket – then he began to crawl. ‘If you see anybody, shoot. I’m going to see if I can raise the dead. Then I’m going to talk to Alastor and Athame. Then I’m going to talk to Madame, our mother. Any of you girls needs a powder break, this may be the moment to take it.’

‘So what do we do now, Sabir?’

‘We assume they’re going to follow us and we keep on moving. We’re not exactly inconspicuous in this beast. I feel like the Terminator.’

‘The who?’

‘Forget it, Calque.’

‘And keep on moving where?’

‘First off, to Ek Balam. I want to deliver the skull and the codex back to the Halach Uinic. Tell him what’s gone down. I don’t want him and Ixtab thinking that we lied
to them. They must be going spare back there.’

‘Such wonderfully descriptive language. No wonder you’re a writer. And then what?’

‘We drive to the airport.’

‘To the airport? Without our passports? Mexican Customs will laugh in our faces. And then they will probably arrest us. Plus, you may not have noticed it, but I haven’t got a shirt on.’

‘We can soon rectify that when we get back to Ek Balam.’

‘But what about the passports? They’re in the Grand Cherokee. And Lamia took that. And she’s got the two harpies from hell on her trail. How much chance do you think we have of ever catching up with her again?’