Death and Deception

by Seeley James

  When I reached the bottom, I couldn’t see the steppingstones Seven-Death had walked me across the first time. Back then I just followed him. After a bit of inspection, I noticed little silver bumps. The mercury had tinted the stones, making them nearly invisible. I started across, using my visor instead of a light. The infrared worked well. I made it to the other side and stopped at the low entrance to the cave of knives. Where they had been lying on the floor the last time, their hilts were stuck in the wall now. To get through, I would have to crawl on my hands and knees, pushing the pack in front of me.

  I checked out my pursuers. Three of them were carefully picking their way down the steps, still sixty feet above the lake. Dressed in the same black shorts and short-sleeved shirts as the first time I’d seen them, they glowed yellow in the thermal range. I could keep track of them down here. I turned around, slid my pack into the cave, and crouched.

  Then I heard a scream and a thudding splash. An odd sound unlike anything I’d ever heard. I turned around.

  Mercury leaned over my shoulder. Ugly way to go, homie.

  I said, What happened?

  Mercury said, Thought you were all up on your high school science, bro. Hydrargyrum, liquid mercury, has twice the density of iron. Remember that YouTube video you watched when you were stoned where a guy floated an anvil in it?

  I said, I wasn’t stoned. I was … bored.

  Mercury said, OK, bored. One of the Knights just slipped and fell onto a liquid surface denser than iron.

  That thought messed with my head. How could a liquid be denser than iron?

  Mercury said, The unworthy have a bad habit of—

  I said, Slipping on the steps. I remember.

  The next Knight in line dug out a flashlight and trained it on his fallen friend. For a moment, the two remaining guys stood still. It just got real for them. The beam flashed around the chamber, looking for me. They had rifles slung on their shoulders. They would be happy to shoot me and search the place alone. I backed into the cave of knives.

  The Knight in back shoved the guy in front. They resumed their march for three steps. Then the second guy fell to his death. The third sat still for a long time. Three more men came down from above. He gave the newcomers a report just as a third man fell to his death. The remaining Knights stayed still again. They cupped hands over their ears, listening to their comm link in the echoing chamber.

  Then they turned around and crawled back up, using their hands and knees.

  I considered their strategy. Three dead; time to change tactics. They’d wait for me at the top. There was only one way out, according to Mercury. I’d have to deal with that later.

  I crawled through the caves, pushing the fake stone in front of me. First the cave of knives, then the river of blood, the cold, and the others. When I made it to the end, the alabaster box waited for me. Seven-Death stood next to it, grinning like a proud papa, his feathery headdress floating as he nodded. He shook his stick, the attached skulls rattling his approval. I’d survived his gauntlet.

  I said, When I get back, I’m going to see a shrink.

  Mercury said, Don’t be such a drama queen, bro. There’s nothing wrong with seeing Mayan gods and Roman gods hanging together. Diversity is all the rage these days.

  Especially when you’re both low on believers, I said. How do I get out of here? Tell me there’s a back door.

  Mercury said, Back door to where? You be halfway to the underworld down here. You gotta go back the way you came. You’ll be fine. Just go up there and yell BOO! They’ll run away.

  Mercury laughed.

  Seven-Death took my false-altar and brushed the mud off the carvings.

  I said, Thanks for loaning it to me, but everybody figured it out.

  Mercury said, That’s not why he gave it to you. It picked up on your future. Check it out.

  The carvings on the smaller stone were different from what I remembered. But then, I didn’t really look at it that close when I took it. I thought it was just a replacement weight. Turning on my phone-light because the infrared wasn’t cutting it for the details, I saw a figure kneeling with his arms and hands bound behind his back. Much larger men wearing balaclavas surrounded him. One held a knife at the bound man’s throat. Another man appeared to be taking the alabaster box containing the Freedom Stone. A reasonable person might argue the captive was me. A chiseled man in t-shirt and jeans.

  Mercury said, Don’t worry about that side. Check out this here.

  I turned the altar to the other side. An image of Mercury flying above a city while throngs of people in the streets threw flowers in the air.

  I said, That picture was taken a long, long time ago.

  Seven-Death howled with laughter. Which he stifled as soon as Mercury gave him a nasty glare. Seven-Death pulled my alabaster box from thin air and wrapped it in the blanket and shoved it back in my backpack. He handed me the pack, and smiled, waiting with an expression like he expected me to leave.

  I said to him, Thanks for the hiding place. They’re probably waiting up top to kill me and take the Freedom Stone, so I guess it was all in vain, but you did your part. So, thanks again.

  I tossed a glare at Mercury.

  Mercury said, Dude, would I let you spill your blood all over Seven-Death’s nice temple? No way. I mean, who would clean it up? Don’t worry. They were freaked by the silver lake that their boys bounced off. They’re not hanging around at the entrance. You get up there, you’ll see what I mean. You can figure it out.

  That didn’t make me feel better. It felt like one of the tests the gods are always giving their best believers. But I crouched down and pushed my pack ahead of me through the caves and trotted across the stones in the silver lake. Floating in a corner of the lake were the bodies of three Knights of Mithras. I climbed the steps.

  The rain was still flooding in but somehow, uphill was easier. I was on the balls of my feet where my toes could grip. When I got to the last bend, a bolt of lightning lit up the night sky above me. There were no silhouettes of men staring down at me. The Knights weren’t waiting near the entrance.

  I raised the rifle I’d been carrying, a H&K MP7, and carefully mounted the steps one by one.

  Another bolt of lightning showed me their plan. The drone waited a thousand feet above the altar. It would follow me to a place where they could surround me. Smart. I waited for another bolt of lightning.

  When it came, I put a bullet through the drone. Its shattered pieces fell from the sky.

  CHAPTER 34

  I climbed out and righted the tree, which put the stone back in place, and ran down the rain-drenched hill. When I reached the flat without hearing bullets whizzing past my head, I gave thanks and praise to Mercury. Then I zigged and zagged into a grove of young, head-high palm trees. As noisy as crashing through them was, it would be equally noisy if they followed me.

  Halfway in, I took a knee and checked my map. Zig-zagging my way home would give them time to locate and track me down. It wouldn’t take them long to determine a general direction from my twists and turns. They could average them out and figure Chan Chich was the only hint of civilization within fifty miles.

  Having run through a city-block’s worth of palms, I should’ve heard them following me. I didn’t. And that worried me more.

  The drumbeat of raindrops hitting the large leaves drowned out subtle noises. Still, I should hear pursuers. Unless they were really good hunters.

  I gave it some thought. What could Mr. Baldy be doing? He and the Knights had located me a mile from the temple on my way in. That had been part of my intentional misdirection. If he looked there for my exit, he’d end up a mile north of me. But I couldn’t count on that. My best bet was to make a run for it. I was tired, carrying a hundred pounds of rock, but in better shape. I could outrun them over time. Endurance was my strength, and therefore, my best bet.

  I fixed the direction to Chan Chich in my head, took a deep breath, and ran. Crashing my way out of the palms, I sta
yed under the thickest part of the canopy. If Mr. Baldy had one drone, he could certainly have two. I ran at a steady, aggressive pace, reserving enough speed to burst forward should they get behind me.

  They showed themselves after half a mile.

  Off to my left, three black shadows jogged at my pace twenty yards away, parallel to my path. I turned abruptly right and picked up speed until I saw a second squad of runners.

  I readied my rifle as I ran, then did a 180 degree turn and fired a whole magazine into the forest ahead of me. As I expected, the spray didn’t hit anyone—too many trees—but it sent them scattering into the woods. I ran through the gap and spun around again. I fired a second magazine, leaving me only two more. Again, they scattered.

  I took off in a straight line for home.

  Calculating their speed and endurance, I realized I’d underestimated them. They had training and fitness equal to mine. They’d left Chicago at roughly the same time I had. That put them thirty miles from Seven-Death’s undiscovered temple at the same time I left Chan Chich. Yet they established a perimeter and mapped out possible routes for ingress and egress in the time it took me to arrive. Which meant they were good. Very good.

  They’d also made a smart bet on which way I was heading. They didn’t need to form a giant circle, as Mercury and I had figured. They staked out three approaches to the area. More men patrolling smaller patches meant that while I was in the temple, some of Mr. Baldy’s men were looking for signs of my approach. They’d found it.

  And that meant there were more than the six men I’d seen and scared off. There were another fifteen trying to outflank me.

  Could I reroute to Uaxactun? Not while carrying a hundred pounds. They’d gained on me because they were carrying a mere twenty pounds of water, ammunition, and weapons.

  Why hadn’t they shot me? It was the easiest solution to the problem. The only thing I could think of was they didn’t want to damage the prize.

  They were gaining on me again. The squad of three paralleled my left flank. I couldn’t waste ammunition on another frontal assault.

  Why parallel me? They wanted to herd me into a specific area. Probably an area where the surviving fifteen were running full speed to bring my run to an end. That would be something I had to avoid at all costs.

  I cranked up my speed. The backpack swung back and forth with each stride. The shoulder pads dug into my shoulders; the weight rubbed sheets of skin off my back. I could endure this. I had to. Jenny wanted to free China.

  The squad on my right tracked closer. They came within ten yards. Then five. They were pushing me left. Which meant the ambush site would be to the left. Unless they were counting on my contrarian streak pushing back. A false signal to get me to turn right.

  A tossup. I turned left abruptly, running directly at the left flanking squad. I raised my rifle as if to fire at them.

  They had to be the guys from the pontoon boat. They’d learned I don’t always fire when I aim.

  They raised their rifles. I was running straight into three barrels.

  I turned hard right. The right-hand squad now close enough to grab me if they wanted.

  A noise zoomed overhead. A big drone flew by with a long black tube hanging underneath it.

  Both squads fired at me. I picked up speed again.

  The drone dropped its payload. A large roll of something black, six feet wide, unfurled from the drone and fell into my path. I tried to stop but my feet were already on it. A slick surface. The drone dropped the end from the top and a large net fell around me. I crashed to the ground. It was plastic fencing. The kind my folks used to keep deer out of the fields back home.

  It was thin and weak material, but it instantly entangled me. I struggled to rip through it. My rifle was caught sideways, my pack was tugging backwards, my feet were immobilized. It felt like a nightmare, struggling without traction, pushing and twisting and never getting free.

  I let go of the rifle to use my hands. Moving as fast as I could, I easily ripped through the netting around my head and pulled it to the sides of my chest. I shrugged it off my backpack, but my legs were stuck.

  It was too late. Four hands grabbed my left arm.

  I reached for my rifle with my right but felt four strong hands grab my forearm and twist hard.

  A second later, they took all my weapons: the darts, phone, visor, drone, pistol, rifle, and spare magazines. They never found the blade I keep in my belt buckle, not that it would be of any use against twenty Knights. Two rifle muzzles rose in front of me. Someone kicked the back of my knee. I dropped to the forest floor. The rain poured through my hair and ran down my face. More hands moved to the task of removing my backpack.

  The prize was lost.

  “Thank you, Jacob.” Mr. Baldy stepped in front of me. Up close, he looked like the bad guy sent from central casting. He should have smoked a black cigar. It would’ve completed his look. Depending on which hat wardrobe put on him, he could fit into anything from a Western to a Nazi flick.

  Ropes twisted around my upper and lower arms. Another went around my wrists with practiced efficiency.

  As they trussed me up, I saw a small shadow flicker through the trees in the distance. A second later, two larger shadows flickered through the same distant space. I wondered how many Knights were still out there. Not that it mattered.

  A thousand negotiations ran through my head. But I had no leverage. They had me. I was dead. It was only a matter of minutes.

  I held my head high, looked him in the eye, and stayed still.

  “You’re not going to ask why I thank you?” He strode around me, rain dripping from his elbows. He drew his silver Scorpion. No silencer this time. Just the long, shiny barrel.

  “I am grateful for your professionalism, Mr. Stearne.” He smiled. “You proved a worthy, albeit stupid, adversary. I say stupid because you should have killed me in Chicago. That small oversight has now cost you your life. Before I dispatch you, I say thank you for not killing more of my men.”

  “I didn’t kill any of your men.”

  “What happened in your chamber of horrors then?”

  “The Mayans didn’t build their stairs to code. Your Knights fell into a lake of liquid mercury.”

  Mr. Baldy frowned and tilted his head. He turned and spoke in his language to his men. There were several answers. Judging from the tones involved, they decided my story might be accurate.

  “And yet you survived.” Mr. Baldy sounded amused. “As I mentioned, Jacob, you have proven to be a most worthy adversary. Unlike that little troupe of women playing dress up and calling themselves Brothers. They will no doubt mourn your loss with many tears and wailing sobs. Without you, they are ultimately pathetic and hopeless. I wish I could see the look on Gu Peng’s face when she hears you will no longer be available to aid her ridiculous cause. And the greatest shame of all: that you will not return to the accolades of that sad band of chaotic, undisciplined anarchists. Well, enough talk.”

  He raised the Scorpion and held it an inch from my forehead. His finger squeezed the trigger.

  CHAPTER 35

  Automatic weapons fired from three directions at once. The muzzle flashes obscured the shooters, but I recognized the sound of Sabel Security’s standard issue H&K MP7s. It had to be Ms. Sabel flanked by Miguel and Dhanpal.

  Mr. Baldy and his Knights dove for cover. Some of his men returned fire. One picked up the Stone and tried to flee. He was felled a split second later.

  Still bound, I rolled away from the Knights.

  Mr. Baldy held a beautiful weapon for competitions and assassinations, but the wrong one for a firefight. He fired a couple suppression rounds before spotting me making my getaway. I squirmed around a tree. He blew a hole through it just over my shoulder. I rolled to the next tree. A hundred bullets buzzed the air between us. He went back to survival mode and returned fire.

  Three people with night visors can hold off double or triple their number. The Knights began to understand what t
hey were up against and split into squads to outflank Ms. Sabel. It was a great idea on paper. She used their maneuver to move into a defensive circle around me. The Stone lay nearby, within our reach and out of Mr. Baldy’s.

  Trees and leaves were shredded by high velocity armor piercing rounds. The Knights knew it was time to retreat. They formed a perimeter around Mr. Baldy and began exiting the battlespace.

  They made it twenty yards. Miguel and Dhanpal swapped mags and laid down a relentless fusillade that pinned the Knights behind a rock formation. Then, suddenly, there was silence.

  Which was followed seconds later by the counterattack. The Knights began spreading out, right and left. Strength in numbers.

  Ms. Sabel sliced my bindings with quick, expert flicks.

  I shook out my ankles and wrists to get the blood back in them, then I held out a hand for a weapon.

  She held up her rifle, indicating it was the only weapon she’d brought. “Danny and his crew are twenty minutes behind us. They’ll have something.”

  Using a tree for cover, she scanned for Knights.

  The contents of my backpack lay on the forest floor ten yards away. The alabaster box had fallen open in the melee. The Stone lay on the blanket as if on display. Dhanpal ran from cover, scooped up the Freedom Stone with his bare hands and began to wrap it in the blanket. He stopped. For a second, he stared at the black glass embedded with gold flecks as if it were a newborn. Then he held it to his face and rubbed his cheek on the surface.

  The Knights halted their attack. No one fired. We all stared at Dhanpal.

  He wrapped the Stone in the blanket, laid it gently back in the box, and snapped the lid back on. He shoved it back into my backpack. Then he did something he’d never done before: He glared at me with intense hatred. He turned his scowl to Ms. Sabel and Miguel. Then he rose and jogged into the forest in the opposite direction of Chan Chich.