by Seeley James
I backed into the darkness and made my way to the wall Jenny and I had passed on our way in. It gave me something to hide behind. While the frontside of the wall had been stripped of vegetation, the other side was higher and packed with trees and the Mayan equivalent of kudzu. I jumped the wall in a bound, hurtling myself into the dark on the other side.
Jungles are not quiet places. Howler monkeys scream over the din of insect orgies and territorial bird fights. On top of that, there are hundreds of mammals singing lonely love songs to attract mates. Before we set out on our adventure, Jenny and I looked up the creatures of the Yucatán. There are iguanas, deer, anteaters, kinkajous, coatis, and jaguars just to name a few. I landed on the only javelina for miles around. It looks like a pig but is actually a peccary with a nasty attitude.
He squealed his way out from under me, squared off two yards away, gave me a wicked glare, and pawed the ground like a New York City subway rider. I crouched below the wall and held my hands out, cooing softly, trying to calm him. We stared at each other until he said Fuck you in peccary and trotted off.
The men in black on the other side of the wall didn’t trot off. They’d heard the squeal and came to investigate. I flattened against the wall, which was waist-high on my side and shoulder-high on theirs. I could hear them talking fifteen yards away. Not Arabic or Pashto, the languages I knew and recognized, but most likely Turkmen. One of them flicked a flashlight beam ten yards south of me. It swept across the trees until it went past my position.
In that moment, I could only think about Jenny. While I held my breath, I began to realize why heroes never have a significant other. My risky behavior—sneaking into an enemy camp because I didn’t trust the reconnaissance of a grad student—endangered her future as well as mine. As a bachelor, I never thought twice about slinking around armed killers. If they found me, I could shoot my way out or die. No big deal either way. But now, someone was counting on me as her life-long partner. I’d been through her therapy sessions and helped her escape a crippling case of Rape Trauma Syndrome, RTS. She was almost back to being the accomplished officer she’d once been. As much as I needed her, she also needed me.
Slowly and carefully, I pulled my pistol and considered my options should the guy lean two inches farther over the wall to inspect the noise that drew him. I did the math on enemy troop strength. I’d seen a four-man squad leave on patrol. One man guarded a point on the perimeter. Twelve men guarded Hidalgo’s team. One leader. Two more were looking for me. Most likely, there were eight perimeter guards and possibly another patrol. That gave me at least thirty-two. There could be other patrols as well. Cherry hadn’t been too far off. And she could’ve been right about forty.
Mercury crawled up next to me, nose to nose. If you pull that trigger once, homie, you gonna need to pull it thirty-nine more times and nail each one without a miss. How many rounds in your magazine?
I said, Seventeen in this one and one more magazine in my pocket.
Ooh, that ain’t gonna cut it, bro, Mercury said. Do you have any more back at your camp?
I said, I wasn’t planning on taking on an army with automatic rifles. I brought enough to scare off a few narcos. So. Can you help me out here?
You think I can pull bullets out of thin air or something? Mercury asked.
I said, Or something.
Mercury said, You promise to tell Jenny about me?
I said, Yes. Absolutely. Maybe.
The man with the flashlight flicked it off.
I waited. The pair didn’t move or make a sound. They were smart, using their ears. My patience outlasted theirs. They started talking, a light argument in their native tongue. From the tone, one guy insisted he saw something while the other teased him about wildlife. They moved off in the opposite direction.
Mercury said, You’re welcome, brutha.
Carefully, I rose and peered over the wall. These guys were good, they had moved to an area that gave them wider visibility. If they turned one degree to the left, they would see me.
I crept toward the plaza on my hands and knees, occasionally checking on the two guards. Finally, I came to the end of the wall. Going any farther would put me in plain sight of several people. I kept my head low, just high enough to see over the wall.
At least I was within earshot of the leader, Mr. Baldy. I could make out half of what he was saying. He held a Volquartsen Scorpion pistol with a distinctive Q Erector silencer attached. The hardware choice of assassins, it was light, accurate, and quiet. The top-of-the-line suppressor reduced noise to twenty decibels, roughly the volume of someone whispering BANG. Mr. Baldy was serious about his work.
Some of his words floated to me as he turned slightly in my direction. “…this Jacob Stearne?”
I caught a hint of British accent, which didn’t fit his Central Asian origins. Maybe he had an English education like Rafael.
I couldn’t hear Hidalgo’s reply. His tone of voice was mournful and pleading. The opposite of the bellowing professor who’d sent me packing.
I clicked the video on my phone and tried getting some footage for later analysis. It was dark, they were far away, but maybe it would catch something I missed.
There was a chance I could get a shot off. Hitting a man at this distance was possible. Upsetting his interrogation was probable. Saving Hidalgo was unlikely. The most common reaction of a man losing control of his situation was to strike out at the most vulnerable. In this situation, that would be Hidalgo. I felt like I had to do something disruptive to change the balance of power. After that, I could worry about saving the professor.
I checked my adversary. Mr. Baldy moved like a concrete wall, slowly and deliberately. His square, bald head sat on a short, thick neck with an anvil of a jaw. He was muscular, with gym-muscles that moved weights up and down but might or might not be useful in hand-to-hand combat.
Suddenly, something bad transpired between the two men. Mr. Baldy shouted angrily. Hidalgo struggled to back away. Mr. Baldy leaned in, leading with his chin.
Hidalgo shouted, “No, no! Captain, I told you all I know. Please for the sake of—”
Mr. Baldy raised his pistol. I couldn’t hear the report, but Hidalgo’s head snapped forward. The back of it bursting outward. His body collapsed.
I couldn’t believe it. I’d seen plenty of executions. I’d executed people. But they were always hostiles in a theatre of combat. Not an innocent college professor. Not for the crime of being unable to answer a question. The shock was overwhelming. I peered down the iron sights on my 9 mil then remembered I was outnumbered—and Jenny needed me.
The grad students and volunteers screamed so loud I could hear them through their muzzles. The group began writhing and twisting. Three guards pulled someone else from the group. A woman I hadn’t seen earlier. A guard yanked the gag from her mouth.
Mr. Baldy raised his pistol and said with a British accent, “You get one chance. Where did Jacob Stearne go?”
He knew my name. Why would he care about me? Who was this guy?
“Calakmul,” she cried.
It was a lie. I hadn’t told them anything about my destination. She just blurted out something to avoid a death sentence. It turned out to be the wrong thing.
Mr. Baldy said, “I just came from there.”
He fired. The woman collapsed next to Hidalgo.
Again, I was shocked. Murdering innocent academics to find me? Was this about the Stone? What did Professor Tum call it, dangerous? I aimed my Glock at Mr. Baldy again. It was a long shot for a pistol. Handguns are short-range weapons, 25 to 50 yards on the range. This was 120 yards at least. With a moving target. Too far for a realistic shot.
Mercury pulled my wrist. Dude, you can’t win here. You’d be committing suicide.
I said, I gotta try.
Mercury said, You might pick off one or two. Then they descend on you in droves.
I watched as a nightmare unfolded before me. One by one, he dragged harmless academics to the front, asked q
uestions they couldn’t answer, and executed them. I’d seen plenty of wartime horrors, but nothing as cold, calculated, and pointless as this. Mr. Baldy was a raging psychopath.
I said to Mercury, I can’t stand by and watch this. He wants me. Jenny is a terrific woman, she’ll be sad for a while, but she’ll move on. I’m turning myself in.
Mercury said, You’ll die for nothing, homie. No matter what he does with you, he’s not going to let these witnesses live.
CHAPTER 6
Captain Batyr Amanow sensed the tension and unrest building like ice on a lake before it cracks. His men didn’t approve of the bodies lying at his feet. Leadership is a minefield of difficult decisions. This was necessary. They should know that.
When the Soviet Union fell, many former republics fell into lawless anarchy. Innocent civilians were set upon by brutal criminal gangs. Terror and uncertainty ruled the cities of his youth. Back then, strong leaders emerged. Tough measures were required to reinstate rules. Rules that protected everyone equally. When the Protector offered him the opportunity to flee his family’s squalor at the age of eight, he jumped at the chance. The Protector showed him the benefits of orderly discipline and he never thought of his home on the Caspian Sea again.
Now, he was hearing hints of dissent in the voices of his men. Dissent can lead to chaos in the ranks. The Protector hadn’t entrusted Amanow with this mission just to lose his command before he achieved his objective. His brutal methods had unsettled some of the Knights. A problem he would deal with immediately. Looking over the bodies of the disrespectful academics, he could understand how the carnage might upset the weak. Using the comm link, he summoned everyone to the plaza.
While waiting for the most distant patrols to come in from the jungle, he had the Knights stack the bodies near a large ceremonial stone. He climbed to the top. When the last patrol arrived, he held up his hand, then slowly gestured to the dead.
“Long ago,” he said in a strong and confident voice, “the Knights were chosen by God to lead the nations. God chose this time, under the leadership of our Protector, to reveal the location of the Poison Stone. The Protector chose us—just as he chose the Guardian—to follow in the sacred footsteps of the hallowed Knights of Mithras. It is not an easy path, my friends. There will be many difficult decisions that require strength and resolve.
“Imagine how hard it must have been for the Knights who followed the San Andrés through a storm that sank three-quarters of the fleet. They stayed on their mission, their hearts true to the cause, until they could sink the ship a thousand miles from its last known location. Did they leave witnesses who could locate the sunken ship? Not a soul.”
He paused to look each man in the eye. None shrank back. That lifted his heart.
“These are perilous times for civilization,” Captain Amanow continued. “All over the world, police officers are disrespected, attacked, and spat on. Terrorists roam freely, threatening the lives of peaceful citizens. Watch the news in any country and you see violence, chaos, and crime. You have heard the carefully crafted lies coming from rich countries. You have heard their media outlets making up myths to confuse us. What keeps a society safe is no longer important as long as an individual can worship anything he makes up. And where do they worship? At the altar of anarchy. Crime is up fifty percent around the world. Everywhere you turn, immigrants invade this country and that. Syrians invaded Europe. Mexicans invaded America. Uighurs invaded China. Who will invade your country? Who is willing to sacrifice his child so the next terrorist can have a warm place to sleep?”
Several heads began nodding. It felt good to see his words at work.
“It takes a strong man to stand in the gap left by overeducated elites who pride themselves on their diplomas. What do they know?” He pointed at the bodies. “Did they tell the truth when I asked simple questions? They covered for an American warrior who fled with the most dangerous artifact in the history of civilization. Why? Because they are insulated in their ivory towers, they keep themselves safe from the lawlessness that permeates the streets. They leave us to wallow in lives that have been abandoned, ignored, neglected.
“You know the Protector. He alone has looked out for you. He alone stands against the forces of globalization. He alone stopped the incursion of the West. He alone protected your children.”
Captain Amanow checked every pair of eyes in the group. They were with him. They made him feel strong. It was a great feeling.
Once again, he gestured at the corpses. “There are difficult decisions to be made, gentlemen. There are horrific deeds and tremendous trials ahead of us. We are up against one of the single greatest soldiers to ever march across a battlefield. You must dig deep inside yourself and ask, am I man enough for the days ahead? Will I stand idly by and let riots of freethinking engulf my city? Will I let extremists bomb children in their classrooms? Or will I stand with the Protector and take up arms against the forces of evil? Well? What do you say, men? Are you with me?”
Gu Peng felt her heart soar at the sight of so many Brothers of Claritas gathered in unity. At the same time, she felt the weight of responsibility for these enthusiastic young people. Yes, she insisted on rigorous training in case the Brothers had to battle the veteran Knights. Yes, they had acquitted themselves like the finest warriors. But that was all it was, training. The Knights were far more experienced, disciplined, and accomplished. She could not yet count on Jacob Stearne to help them. Now the time had come, the Brothers must rise to the occasion. Nonetheless, doubts crept in her mind. Was challenging the Knights for the Freedom Stone the right battle to fight?
The Brotherhood had been a worldwide circle of friendship, hopeful myths, and strange rituals when she’d joined so long ago. After Tiananmen Square, the Brotherhood took her in, nursed her battered body back to health, mended her crushed leg, and gave her a reason to live. Had they believed the stories of a simple rock that could free people from bondage? For so many years she found comfort in believing the hopeful stories. But now, it was real. They had all seen the evidence. The Brotherhood’s experts had agreed unanimously: Jacob Stearne had indeed found the Freedom Stone. And the poor man had no idea what the five factions would do to him to obtain it.
With her walking stick tapping out her pace, she followed the stone path down to the grassy shore of Lago Petén Itzá in El Remate, Guatemala. The brave young men and women of the Brotherhood of Claritas lounged on the grass in the warm evening. Torches lit their open space. But fear and anxiety colored the light of their auras.
Branches of despair must be pruned to allow the seeds of hope to grow in their place. Peng had been on both ends of the spiritual spectrum. She knew how easily the vitality of others could fertilize a large circle. For optimism to spiral outward, it needed space and energy. And a spark.
As she approached, they rose and greeted her with respectful hugs and kisses. Danny and Mark pulled a large round of wood fashioned into a coffee table to the group’s center and motioned for her to stand on it.
Danny’s inner circle of friends hovered around him. She leaned to him and said, “Danny, you water a tree at its drip line, not at its trunk.”
He looked a question at her before understanding. With a quick whisper, he dispersed Fiona, Mark, and the rest of his companions to the outside edges of the gathering.
“Ms. Gu, please tell us why we came to this place,” Danny said loud enough for everyone to hear him.
Everyone quieted and looked to her expectantly. She climbed the low table. Giving a speech in English shook her confidence. There was no melody to the language. Still, it was the language of the young volunteers before her. She took a deep breath and begged the spirits to give her strength. She held her hands out from her shoulders, palms up, and slowly raised them to the heavens above.
“Mother of star,” she began, “we thank you for blessed life we enjoy. From childhood we thrive bosom of freedom. For that, we eternally grateful. But you never promise life tranquility. You draw our sou
l to Brotherhood. We swore on light of ancestor, as Brother swore thousand and thousand year before, we protect all people from bondage. Now you choose today, you choose my people, we stand up—face down tyrant. We set world to right path, free path.
“Five hundred year ago, all Brother give life to deliver Freedom Stone to Europe. They hope defeat feudalism. Instead, they defeated. All lost at sea. As result, Europe mired in monarchy, enrich few royal with slavery and plunder. World remain under dark cloud of despot, Dark Age and Renaissance. They trample life ordinary people around world. Then, for brief, shiny moment last century, representative democracy peak. By late 1980, forty-six percent of country in world led by elected official. Today, only thirteen percent of country—just six percent of world population—live in free democracy. Fascist and dictatorship already take over world.”
She waited patiently while they discussed these details and debated their concerns. She gave each person time until they reconnected with her gaze. Then she raised her hand to speak again. A few hushed the others. When they fell silent, she continued.
“We at terrifying crossroad for humanity. Throughout world, police brutalize and attack those who seek only express themself. They kill reporter and label anyone who call out transgression—dangerous radical. You hear lie of despot. You see video smuggle from closed territory. The heart of cosmos call us shine claritas, brightness on those who hate.
“For century, we prosper and flourish. Those day—no more. Bitter hatred sweep across globe. From Hong Kong to Caracas, people who dare question authority—the dictator imprison and beat them. Syrian flee endless war, they turn back. Mexican children, they cage. Muslim in China, they re-educate. Who stand up for oppressed people? Who sacrifice themself for better world?”
On the outside edges of the group, Danny and his friends responded with positive commitments. She smiled and caught his eye. Now she knew it was not she who brought him to the Brotherhood. He had drawn himself to his destiny.
