by David Wood
He was no longer below the earth’s surface. Somehow, he was above it.
As he kept looking, he began to distinguish shapes, some of them too precise to be naturally occurring, and at last understood where he was. The soot-streaked walls had been his first clue, and the stark vertical edges below that defined the presence of man-made structures were his second.
Now oriented to his surroundings, Stone scooted back into the cleft to let the others know that they were almost home free. “We’re right above the cliff dwellings,” he told them. “That’s why the miners didn’t try to turn this into an entrance.”
“How high?” Sievers asked.
“Maybe twenty feet. We’ll have to free climb a little to get down.” When no one objected, Stone nodded. “Okay. Follow me.”
He scooted back to the opening and lowered himself down. Once outside, he was able to see more clearly the south-facing hollow in which the Paquime had built their abode. Beyond, the last vestiges of daylight still hung in the sky, but the cliff dwellings were draped in shadow. There were handholds aplenty on the rock face, and after just a few feet, the slope began to curve out, allowing him to slide the rest of the way down.
Kasey came next, so eager to be in open air that she practically scampered down the cliff. Avery was next, less sure-footed but still able to descend without incident, followed lastly by Sievers. Of them all, he had the most difficulty, losing his grip and dropping onto the slope where he tumbled to the bottom. He hastily got to his feet and pronounced that he was fine.
“You’re not fine,” Kasey said, her demeanor considerably improved. “You caught a bullet.”
“That’s why I bring a sewing kit everywhere I go,” he replied. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a change of scenery.”
He got no argument. They made their way through the ruins, emerging through one of the distinctive T-shaped doorways the Paquime had used, and onto a more recently built boardwalk that skirted the edge of the sheer cliff. The sun had already dipped below the distant hilltops to the west, so Sievers lit the way with his trusty MagLite.
They reached the RAV4 half an hour later. Avery ran the last few steps and collapsed on the SUV’s hood. “Thank God that’s over.”
“Amen,” said Kasey. She turned to Sievers. “All right, hero. Let’s get you fixed up.”
She used two full bottles of water from their supply to rinse away the crust of dirt and blood and expose the wound. The bullet had gouged a furrow in Sievers’ biceps, and the flesh around it was inflamed and tender, but aside from the danger of infection, it did not appear to be a serious injury.
While they were occupied with that, Stone circled the little SUV, conducting a cursory inspection to make sure that the Dominion men had not sabotaged the vehicle. It was unlikely that they had. The smart course of action would have been to leave the car unmolested since any signs of damage might lead to suspicions of foul play.
Avery watched him with a bemused expression. “Anything missing?” she asked as he completed his circuit.
“Just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“A second car. Their car. Someone else made it out of that mine alive, and I’m betting they have the treaty. I’m afraid it’s not over yet.”
CHAPTER 29
Chihuahua, Mexico
The four figures that trudged across the tarmac toward the waiting Learjet looked like escapees from a mine disaster, which Tam supposed, was pretty much what they were. Kasey had told her as much in the brief phone call six hours earlier, but somehow that report had failed to convey the enormity of what they had undergone.
She glanced over her shoulder to Greg. “And I thought we were in bad shape.”
Greg just shook his head then winced a little as the gesture aggravated one of his many bruises.
Tam stepped down to greet them. “Turn around,” she told them. “I know we’ve got a schedule to keep, but you are not getting on my plane like that.”
No one protested.
They reconvened at a Holiday Inn that was a ten-minute drive from the airport. Tam booked two rooms, his and hers, and although they were only there long enough for everyone to shower away the dirt—a process which took longer than even Tam anticipated—she considered it money well spent.
Once back on the plane and in the air, everyone got a chance to tell their story. Avery took the lead for the group that had gone to Cuarenta Casas, focusing primarily on their discovery of the Mexico Purchase treaty. Tam was stunned by this revelation.
“We bought Mexico?”
“I don’t think it’s a legally binding treaty,” Avery was quick to say. “First, the signatories on the Mexican side did not have the authority to enter into such negotiations. Not at the time anyway. Second, all treaties have to be ratified by Congress, and that never happened.”
“So it’s worth the paper it’s written on, and not much more. What does the Dominion hope to accomplish with it?” Tam looked over at Stone, who as she had expected, was listening far more than he was talking. “You figured that one out, yet?”
“I think I may have.” He straightened in his chair. “There are some other parts to this we need to consider. The Dominion, specifically this Roger Lavelle, has been pushing to get the President of Mexico removed from power, presumably hoping to get his ringer, Esperanza, elected as the interim president.”
“I don’t think Esperanza is aware of Lavelle’s true intentions,” Tam pointed out.
“Perhaps not his secret agenda, but Esperanza does know about the treaty. That’s why he reacted so strongly when you asked him about Destiny. He knows about the treaty, and he’s prepared to honor it if he becomes president. He’s desperate to stop the violence from the drug cartels, and Lavelle has convinced him that the battle is lost. The murder of those students in Juarez was the final straw, just as Lavelle knew it would be.”
“We’re already offering the Mexican government whatever support they need,” Greg pointed out. “This sounds way too extreme.”
“Without the treaty, I would agree. That’s why locating it was so critical to the plan. Think of it as finding proof that you were switched at birth, and your real parents are billionaires. You might still identify with the parents that raised you, but would you be able to turn down the promise of wealth? Particularly if you were in a desperate situation?”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Avery insisted. “Even if Esperanza starts waving that treaty around, the U.S. would not be obligated to honor it.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” asked Kasey. “It’s not every day someone gives you a whole country.”
“And all the crap that goes with it,” countered Sievers.
“He’s right,” Avery said. “To build on Stone’s analogy, put yourself in the billionaire’s shoes. Someone shows up claiming to be a lost heir, but they’re a wreck—addicted to drugs, a criminal record, a mountain of debt.”
“The first thing you’d do if you were the rich guy,” Sievers said, “is ask for proof, and in this case, the proof will say that the treaty was never ratified, so it don’t mean diddly.”
Stone raised his hand. “Lavelle knows all this. You’re forgetting what the Dominion really wants. The Russians, too.”
“Which is?” Tam asked.
Stone pursed his lips for a moment. “You’re not going to like this.”
“Honey, I already know that.”
Stone told her.
CHAPTER 30
Mexico City, Mexico
Lavelle found Esperanza waiting for him in the dining room of the Four Seasons hotel. The Mexican businessman seemed jittery, which might have been explained away as too much coffee too early in the morning, but Lavelle knew the real source of the other man’s anxiety. He took a seat opposite Esperanza, and without a word, placed a scuffed leather portfolio on the tabletop. Despite the abrasions it had suffered, there was no mistaking the distinctive seal embossed on the front.
> “That is it?” Esperanza asked.
Until Trent’s arrival in the early hours of the morning, Lavelle had secretly wondered if the treaty really existed at all. It had sounded so implausible at the beginning, when the Russian had first told him of its existence and of the code in the diary housed at the Vienna museum. Even though the plan—Destiny—hinged on his being able to procure the treaty, he had always allowed for the possibility that the actual document might have been lost to the ages, so he had made sure that even without the treaty, Esperanza would be desperate enough to propose redrawing the borders, ceding the north to the U.S. as a way to stop the violence. It would have been a much harder sell, but then the beauty of Destiny was that it did not rely upon what could actually be accomplished, only on the fears of what might happen.
Lavelle spun the case around so the seal was facing Esperanza, and then slid it across the table. “As promised.”
Esperanza reached out with trembling hands and opened it. He gasped, then his lips began to move as he read silently. Finally, he looked up. “It is true, then? Northern Mexico has been a part of the United States for more than a century.”
“An undeclared territory,” Lavelle confirmed, flashing a disingenuous smile. “And everyone born north of the twentieth parallel during that time is already an American citizen, even though they don’t know it.”
Esperanza’s expression was not quite so sanguine. “I wanted to save my country. This will destroy it.”
“Nonsense,” Lavelle countered. “You’ve been in the wrong country your whole life. This will simply put things the way they should have been in the first place.”
“I don’t think it will be quite as simple as that, my friend.”
“It will be when you’re the president. Your word will be law.”
“I have already made my position clear. I will not try to have President Mendoza removed from power. I will show him this, but what he does with it will be for him and the congressional union to decide.”
Lavelle waved his hand as if untroubled by such a prospect. “Things will work out. I’m sure you’ll be very convincing when you meet with him.” He took out his phone and glanced at the time. “Speaking of which, I should let you be on your way. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“Back to El Paso?”
“The company won’t run itself. And I suspect you’re going to be pretty busy as well.”
“A pity you can’t stay,” Esperanza said. “If this works, it will be because of your efforts, not mine. You deserve the credit.”
Ain’t that the God’s honest truth, Lavelle thought. But I’m going to be long gone when the shit hits the fan. He pushed back from the table. “I just found the treaty,” he said. “You’re the one who has to make it work. Good luck, Guillermo. You’re surely going to need it.”
From a table across the room, Eric Trent watched Lavelle hand the treaty off to Esperanza. Even though this had always been the plan, he felt a pang of loss at seeing the priceless historical document simply given away. It was not for him to question the decisions of the Dominion’s leaders, yet he could not help but think that there was a better way to make use of the treaty.
There was a great deal of wealth in the north of Mexico, natural resources that could be exploited, human resources, too… but no, the problem with annexing part of Mexico was the same as it had been in 1848 at the end of the Mexican-American war when the U.S. had relinquished most of the territory it had captured.
Mexico was full of Mexicans.
Letting them mow the lawns and pick the lettuce was fine, and all the better if you could pay them under the table, but if the treaty was enforced, they would have the vote, and that could never be allowed to happen.
Maybe there was no better way to play this wild card, but Trent had sacrificed too much in getting the treaty to feel good about simply letting it go. He had barely escaped with this life. The two men that had accompanied him into the mine would remain buried there forever. Nevertheless, Lavelle had promised him that when the plan finally bore fruit, it would all be worth it.
He watched Lavelle leave and quickly finished off his own breakfast. The clock was ticking now. Despite having only gotten a few hours’ sleep, Lavelle had ordered him to keep an eye on Esperanza, just to make sure that the Mexican didn’t make any more unexpected changes to the plan. Lavelle had been able to adapt to accommodate Esperanza’s little kumbaya moment in front of the Chamber of Deputies, but now that the man had the treaty in hand, it was essential that he not deviate from the script.
He took a sip from his coffee cup and watched as Esperanza perused the document again. In just a few hours, the world would know about the treaty, and then the true purpose of Destiny would be revealed. When that happened, he would make his way back to Texas, to take his place at Lavelle’s side, where together, they would forge a new nation, a true republic that enshrined the freedoms of the U.S. Constitution, but without the bleeding-heart permissiveness that encouraged laziness and perverted lifestyles, and was destroying America from within like a cancer.
It was too bad that, in order for America to be saved, it would first have to be put out of its misery.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approach Esperanza’s table. He assumed it was a waiter, but when the businessman subsequently stood up to leave, Trent took a second look. He caught only a glimpse of the person leaving the dining room, walking alongside Esperanza, but that was enough for him to recognize her. For a frantic moment, he didn’t know what to do, only that he had to do something,
He dug out his phone and placed a call. Lavelle picked up on the first ring. “What is it, Eric?”
“They’re here. One of the people that I left in that mine. She’s talking to Esperanza right now.”
“What?” Lavelle’s voice exploded in his ear. “You said they were all dead.”
“I thought they were.”
“Stop her. Do not let her get ahold of that treaty. I don’t care what you have to do.”
Trent licked his lips. The hotel was a public place. What could he do?
He hurried after Esperanza and the woman, closing the distance until he was just a few steps behind them as they exited out into a luxurious garden courtyard. There was no sign of anyone else on the tree-lined walk, and no one looking down from the surrounding patios. If he was going to make a move, there was no better place.
He weighed his options and decided the best course of action was to separate Esperanza from the woman. He would say that Lavelle needed to speak with the Mexican businessman on some urgent matter. The woman would probably recognize him, but what could she do? It would be her word against his.
A hand clapped down on Trent’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He tried to pull away, but the grip was like iron, and before he could turn to confront his assailant, another hand snaked around his head from the opposite side and covered his mouth. Panicking, he struggled against the hold, flailing to break free, but to no avail. His unseen attacker lifted him off the ground and dragged him off the path and behind a tree. He felt a faint stinging sensation on the side of his neck, replaced almost immediately by a cold spot that began to spread outward until his entire body felt numb and heavy, and then he felt nothing at all.
CHAPTER 31
Avery was aware of what had just happened behind her, but she resisted the urge to turn and look. Sievers had waylaid Trent without even a scuffling sound; the last thing she wanted to do was make Esperanza turn and look. She had gotten him this far by claiming to be a journalist from a Canadian news service wanting to interview him, a request to which he had happily agreed. She kept walking, making idle small talk until she heard a voice in her ear bud. “Bagged and tagged. You’re good to go.”
Avery nodded unconsciously and gestured to a nearby bench. When they were both seated, she pointed to the portfolio in Esperanza’s hands. “I know what you have there.”
He jerked it away defensively, as if fearful that she might try
to seize it and run. “Who are you? You are not a reporter.”
“No. I’m a historian. I was with the team that found that treaty yesterday. I’ve read it. I know what you think it means. But there’s something you need to hear.”
Stone sat patiently in a chair in the front room of the suite, facing the door. His arms were draped casually over the armrests, one leg crossed over the knee of the other, and he wore an expression of complete indifference on his face. The man who had just burst in—the suite’s occupant, Roger Lavelle—was speaking angrily into his phone, completely oblivious to Stone’s presence.
Lavelle lowered the phone a moment later, breathing rapidly and staring at nothing as his brain worked to process the news he had just received. By degrees, he seemed to take note of his uninvited guest, and when he finally spoke, there was no trace of alarm. “Who the hell are you?”
“The name’s Stone,” replied the man. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
“You can talk to the police.” Lavelle held up his phone as if to place an emergency call.
“I could,” Stone agreed. “I could tell them all about Destiny.” He chuckled. “Destiny. I do like the name, but even you must realize that it will never work.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know that you’re being used. Manipulated by the Russians. The only thing I’m not sure of is whether you’ve figured that out.” Stone brought his hands together then spread them apart, palms up. “That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to determine whether you are an unwitting pawn in Samsonov’s game, or a willing accomplice committing an act of treason against the United States.”
Lavelle uttered a terse laugh. “Treason. That’s a joke.”
Stone gestured to a chair. “Sit. I’ll talk and you can tell me if I have it right.”
