Sister Grace smiled. “This Bible holds a powerful message,” she said. The Word of God was a powerful message, but there was more to this Bible. “How could they just leave it out like this?”
“And right next to an ashtray . . .” Zack added. “No respect.” He found it hard to believe that El Tigre would leave the real Bible so vulnerable. But he had. It’s in good hands now. He latched the two gold clasps that secured the pages and wrapped the book in the soft cloth that had protected the forgery. He slid the real Bible into his backpack and handed the pack to the sister. “This is probably safer with you.”
She took his pack and slid her arms through the shoulder straps. “Now can we get out of here?”
Zack nodded. He picked up the forgery and hesitated. “Do you hear that?”
The sister listened intently and shook her head. “I don’t hear anything.”
Worry streaked up his backbone. He could no longer hear the men playing football outside.
Had they missed their opportunity to escape unnoticed?
Chapter 29
With Sister Grace close behind, Zack crept to a window on the west side of the building. The men were no longer in the field.
Had El Tigre returned?
They crossed the warehouse in several hurried strides to a window on the east side and checked the surroundings. Zack patted his pockets to make sure he still had the keys to Ana’s truck. The truck was parked a short distance away, but everything was relative. ‘Short distance’ suddenly didn’t have the same meaning when there were a couple of heavily armed guards in the way.
One guard stood in front of the door while another patrolled the perimeter of the building. The other four men were nowhere to be seen.
They had to move quickly.
Zack figured he had thirty seconds to take out the first guard before the second guard made his way back around the building. He handed Sister Grace the fake Bible and held up a hand for her to stay put, and then moved toward the main entrance. He placed one hand on the handle and his shoulder against the metal door. He shifted his weight and silently counted.
One . . .
Two . . .
Three . . .
Zack swung the door open and knocked the first guard to the ground with a solid thud. A quick right hook to the jaw and the first guard was out. He dragged the body into the building and motioned for the sister. He moved behind her and removed his taser from the backpack.
Sister Grace stayed right on his heels as they exited the building and moved north along the east wall. She was resourceful, and she didn’t make a nuisance of herself. She made a better partner than Waterson had.
“Stay close,” Zack said softly over his shoulder.
She put a hand on his back, and he didn’t need to turn to know she had heard him.
Zack paused at the corner of the building, and Sister Grace took a couple steps back.
The second guard rounded the corner and Zack fired the taser. The twin barbed leads punched through the guard’s t-shirt and into his chest. Fifty thousand volts surged through the wires and the man toppled like a tree. Zack moved quickly and struck the guard with the butt of his own rifle. The man lost consciousness without another sound.
The guards would wake up again, even if it meant this one would have a killer headache. He glanced at Sister Grace and half-expected her to look disappointed or to reprimand him, but her face was expressionless.
She handed him the forgery and without another word, they headed toward the northeast tree line. They hid in the brush and could see the truck twenty yards ahead. Four men stood around the truck, talking and smoking.
Why couldn’t things ever be easy?
Chapter 30
Two men leaned against the truck, one sat on the hood, and the fourth was in the driver’s seat. Too many to take out at once.
“What are we going to do?” Sister Grace whispered close to his ear.
“Distract them,” Zack said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. The keys jingled as they slipped out of his pocket, and Zack froze.
Not the distraction he had in mind.
Zack looked carefully at the guards. They were still lounging, but they weren’t talking anymore.
“Looks like they didn’t hear?” Sister Grace whispered so softly Zack could barely make out what she had said.
“No, they’re not moving or talking. They heard.” Zack kept his voice very low as well, but if they knew they were there it wasn’t going to help.
A shot fired and whistled past them through the leaves, and they both ducked.
Talk about shoot first and ask questions later.
“What now?” Sister Grace asked, her whisper louder and panic filled.
Zack motioned for her to get low. One of the guards moved in their direction with his gun drawn. “Where did you park?” he asked.
Sister Grace pointed toward the tree line in the opposite direction. It was a lot of ground to cover, and they made a mad dash. She led and he followed.
Shouting came from behind.
The gunshot had alerted others, and they would catch up soon. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Halfway across the clearing a thunderclap of shots rang out.
Pop . . . pop . . . pop . . .
Bullets whizzed past Zack’s ears.
He ran faster and held the forgery behind his head like a makeshift shield. The thick, seven hundred page book reverberated in his hands twice as it soaked up the impact of the gunfire—two bullets meant for the back of his head.
They made the trees by some miracle of God or twist of irony.
Zack felt more sheltered in here, more protected. He hoped he was right. “Where to?” he asked.
“Follow m—”
Sister Grace stumbled like a marionette yanked by its strings and tumbled over sideways. Zack’s ears registered the sound of the shot a split second later.
Chapter 31
Short staccato blasts of an AK-47 pierced the air.
Zack knelt at the sister’s side and saw the blood soaking into her dark habit at her thigh. He couldn’t tell how bad the wound was. Her face was pale and pinched, but she nodded to him that she was all right and then tried to get to her feet.
The sound of sticks breaking and brush being trampled were his only warning. A large black form barreled through the brush. Zack didn’t have a chance to react before the man was on top of him. He was big and strong, twice the size of Jorge, and judging by the menacing glint in his eyes, he wasn’t in the mood to play nice.
Zack saw the first swing coming and ducked as the man’s knuckles grazed his jaw. He was big, but he was slow. He projected his throws and Zack managed to dodge two more blows.
Sister Grace cried out.
She’d been trying to get to her feet. Zack shifted his attention and his attacker seized the opportunity.
He connected with Zack’s jaw and everything went blurry . . . fuzzy around the edges. White spots danced in his vision, and Zack dropped to the ground. He instinctively rolled to the side and heard the crunch of the man’s boot come down right next to his head.
Why wasn’t this man trying to shoot him? He was armed, but he seemed intent on tearing him apart with his bare hands.
Zack’s vision slowly returned. The edges were still blurry, but he could focus. He kicked up his leg and caught the side of the man’s right knee. The man let out a howl and fell to the ground.
It was now or never.
Zack swung his leg back around and connected with the man’s skull. For a man that size, a kick to the noggin wasn’t going to knock him out, but it had bought Zack a bit of time.
Still dizzy from the punch, Zack pushed himself and forced his eyes to focus. His boot connected with the man’s jaw and Zack launched himself over the man and wrapped his arms around his neck.
The man’s neck was thick and Zack squeezed the carotid arteries with all his might, cutting off the flow of blood to the brain. The man tried to k
ick out, but he was stuck, and slowly his body slackened.
Zack let go when he was sure the man was unconscious and moved to help Sister Grace.
“Zack! Behind you!” she cried out.
Zack flung himself around and hoisted himself up. Dizzy or not, he had to face whoever was coming next.
Chapter 32
El Tigre came crashing through the trees, gun holstered, blade drawn, and nearly barreled straight into Zack. He wasn’t playing games. He wasn’t going to take it easy.
El Tigre hoisted his blade, gripping it with two hands, and with a mighty shout slashed down toward Zack’s head.
Zack grabbed the fake Bible at his feet and like a shield of faith it took the first strike with the knife deep through its cover.
El Tigre yanked the blade out and slashed with it, a strike that would have cut open Zack’s midsection if the book hadn’t been there to block it once again.
Pieces of pages came flying out like tiny white butterflies fluttering down to the ground.
Zack took a solid grip on the book’s edges and swung it in an upward motion, aiming for El Tigre’s jaw. The man jumped back, out of the way, and spun to bring the massive knife in at Zack again. The tip of the blade caught the spine of the book, ripping it in such a way that the back cover dangled by threads.
“You die today, Gringo!”
This time, when a gun went off, Zack was sure El Tigre had made good on his threat.
Then, he realized the single shot had come from behind.
Ana.
She’d shot her brother.
For a long moment El Tigre just stood there, the knife still raised for a killing strike, his face a mix of pain and shock. A red stain blossomed on the man’s chest, near his heart, and spread outward. He spit and sputtered, trying to form words that never came out.
Zack dropped the tattered remains of the Bible and went to Sister Grace, putting his arm around her, helping her to her feet.
“Tell me, Señor Cole,” Ana asked, “Did you figure out the secrets of the Bible?”
He hoped she didn’t notice how he hesitated, or the backpack Sister Grace carried, or how he carefully chose his words. “I didn’t have time and now I’m afraid those secrets were lost when your brother tore the book apart with his knife.”
She nodded, her face tight.
Did she know he was lying?
Maybe.
Ana raised the AK-47 assault rifle she was carrying and then paused. “Graciela?” She looked as if she’d seen a ghost . . . or a childhood friend.
“Hello, Ana.”
Ana dropped the rifle to her side. “Go,” was all she said.
“What about your brother . . . ?” Sister Grace asked.
“The traitor can rot where he is.”
Zack looked down at El Tigre gasping for air. “But, he’s your brother.”
“Not anymore. Now go. Take Graciela and get out of my life!”
Chapter 33
Zack started the car and asked, “Where is the nearest hospital?”
Sister Grace was pale, leaning against the passenger door, but her voice was steady. “Las Montañas,” she said.
The sun sank behind the horizon in a blaze of red and orange. The world was on fire as Zack took a moment to fasten her seatbelt before putting the car in gear. As he sped away toward Las Montañas, he heard several more gunshots ring out in the encampment. La Cobra was tying up loose ends and there would be no pursuit. He avoided as many potholes as he could and they encountered no other drivers along the way.
Sister Grace had lost a lot of blood. Now and then he heard her mumbling a prayer, and marveled at the strength of her faith.
* * *
Twenty-minutes later they arrived at a small clinic. It was after dark and Zack was afraid no one would be there, but after a few minutes of pounding on the door, a sleepy young man answered and ushered him and the sister inside.
The clinic was clean and reasonably well-stocked. No nurse was on duty, and Zack was appointed to assist. Luckily the bullet passed clean through Sister Grace’s leg, missing all of the bone and the femoral artery.
When the young doctor finished patching up the sister, he said, “Now you must go.”
“Go?” Zack said. “She’s been shot. She needs rest.”
“Please, señor. No quiero problemas.“
“He is right,” Sister Grace said, sitting up in the bed that also served as the operating table. “When Victor Ibarra finds out what his step-daughter has done, he will come looking.”
“Wait . . . his step-daughter? Not his daughter?”
“No. El Tigre was Victor’s son, Ana’s step-brother.”
“But why would he come looking here?”
“This used to be her home. Where she grew up.”
The picture became clear. Ana and Graciela grew up in the same town. They were probably friends at one time, but their lives went in two very different directions. That’s how Sister Grace knew so much about the Víbora.
Zack thanked the doctor and offered a monetary token of their appreciation, but he graciously refused.
* * *
They drove through the night and arrived in San Pedro just before dawn. The nuns and novices thanked Zack for Sister Grace’s safe return, but he told them it was Sister Grace that deserved the credit.
She smiled and said, “It was God’s will.” Zack returned the smile. “You know, señor,” the sister continued, “we never did finish our conversation about God.”
“Another time perhaps? Your talk was helpful.”
“Just don’t wait too long,” she said. After sharing the Bible with the others, Sister Grace rewrapped the book in the cloth and presented it to Zack. “When you are ready, Señor Cole, He will be there for you.”
Zack reached for the sacred text with both hands and placed it in his backpack. “Thank you, Sister. For everything.”
Chapter 34
It was time to find Waterson and make sure he hadn’t somehow convinced the pilot that he was dead and that they should leave without the body. A novice drove Zack to El Pollito. Best bet, if Frank was even still in town, he’d be in the bar. It looked exactly like it had the last time. The same local in his tilted chair and floppy-brimmed hat still sat outside, snoozing in the late morning sunlight.
“buenos dias,” Zack greeted the man.
“Good morning to you, señor.” The man’s voice was thin and scratchy, like he had a dry throat that needed a drink. “You are looking for your friend, no?”
That brought Zack up short. “Uh, yes. I am. I thought I might find him here?”
The local shook his head. “I am afraid not. Your friend does not know how to keep his business to himself, does he?”
“Not usually, no.” Then he caught on to what the man was trying to say. “Oh. What did he get into this time?”
“It would seem your friend has a taste for the women. Unfortunately, it was not his woman he was found with.”
No. Waterson had actually done it this time. He’d actually gone and taken up with a married woman. Frank Waterson, amateur archaeologist, antiquities smuggler, and adulterer . . . and he wondered why Zack rarely asked for his help.
“How long ago did he get arrested?” Zack asked, sure as day was light that Waterson was in a jail somewhere.
The man laughed. “He was dragged out of town not two hours ago. You could probably find him still in custody. Perhaps make his bail for him?”
True, that would be the right thing to do. Regardless of the trouble that Waterson always proved to be, leaving someone to rot in a jail in Guatemala was basically leaving a man in limbo. Possibly forever.
Then again . . . Waterson had a knack for weaseling out of the messes he got himself in. And Waterson had walked away when Zack needed him most, left him to deal with a vicious gang that had killed a priest. Zack himself had almost died. He’d had enough of this country, this expedition . . . the whole thing. He just wanted to go home. Waterson would be fr
ee to leave on his own, if he’d just stayed by Zack.
Probably.
A long list of things could have gone wrong if Frank had stuck by him—but he put that out of his mind. There was a lesson to be learned here.
Zack opened the side pocket of his backpack. “Will you do me a favor?” he asked the man. “Will you bail my friend out of jail?”
He handed the man three hundred dollars. The local man smiled and nodded, quickly tucking the bills away before anyone else could see them.
Zack dug out a twenty-dollar bill and dropped it in the man’s hand.
“What is this for?” he asked.
“I’m rewarding an honest man.”
The man smiled and said, “Do you mind if I ask you, the pack that you are carrying? What else is inside?”
Zack could see the calculation behind the man’s brown eyes. If there was cash in the pack, it might be that Zack would have more tasks for the man to complete in exchange for more of his wealth. Well, there was treasure in the pack to be sure. Just not the kind the man would appreciate.
Swinging the pack off his shoulder, Zack unzipped the top and pulled out the real Tyndale Bible. “The Word of God,” he answered. “Treasure enough for any man.”
The local’s face fell. “Si, señor. Tesoro.“ Then he lowered his head again and rocked back in his chair.
Zack put the Bible back into his pack and headed out to the airfield. Hopefully, the pilot was still there. No way of knowing until he got out there, which meant he had to find transportation.
Chapter 35
May 5, 2012, 12:58 p.m.
Belize City, Belize
Zack sat in one of the plush leather seats of his Cessna Citation X class as his pilot waited for clearance from the Belize City Municipal Airport tower.
The Tyndale Code: An Action-Packed Christian Fiction Thriller Novella (An Armour of God Thriller Book 1) Page 8
