by Bill Craig
“This job, I think it might be messier that the Captain thought at the beginning,” Tommy said.
“I think you might be right,” Felix nodded.
Glory stopped the truck. She could feel the ground underneath the tires growing wet and pulling at the tires. She knew that they had reached the edge of the swamp. She cut the motor and stepped out on the running board to wave a halt to the others. This was where the expedition would become tricky. From here on, they would have to use canoes or rafts to move closer to the pre-Columbian city of Chichen Itza.
Now, the dangers would be from snakes, quicksand, alligators, and the natives, not to mention diseases from insect bites. These were the dangers that she was trained to face. She would leave Fortune to handle any other kind!
“Thank God, we’re stopping the convoy. The water is starting to get a little deep,” Felix Grimaldi called.
“Pay no attention, he thinks puddles are deep water, Tommy Grover called up to her. Glory flashed both men a smile before dropping to the semi-solid ground and making her way to the end truck. Jake Fortune was just stepping down, as she arrived.
“We need to set up a camp and start working on the rafts,” Glory said, by way of greeting. Fortune looked at Chac.
“Can you find a suitable spot, preferably near a clear running stream that feeds into the swamp?”
“Si,” Chac replied, moving away. Sam Morris climbed down from the back of the truck, looking no friendlier than he had when they had returned to the convoy earlier.
“Sam, why don’t you start cutting down some suitable trees for a raft? I’ll have Mike come and help you,” Fortune said. Morris offered a surly grunt before stalking off.
“What was that all about?” Glory asked, her eyes searching his face for a straight answer.
“Let’s just say Sam gave me reason for concern after we rescued him. Leave it at that and trust me to take care of it,” Fortune told her.
“Okay, I’ll do that . . . for now. But I want a full explanation later.”
“Sure thing.”
Fortune patted her shoulder and headed towards the front of the line. Glory stomped her foot, but held her tongue. She knew better than to chase after him and try to force an answer out of him. If Jake Fortune didn’t want to share what was on his mind, he wouldn’t. Not until he was ready to.
Fortune had a bad feeling about Sam Morris and he wanted to put a tight leash on him pretty damn quick. He caught up to Mike Rogers who was doing some stretching after the ride. “Mike, I want you on Sam like a second skin. He’s up to something and it is going to be trouble for us. I just don’t know how soon!”
“Are you sure, Jake? I mean, I know Sam’s a little on the strange side, but do you really think that he’d turn on us?” Mike asked, a sad look on his face.
“Before today, I’d have said no. Now, I’m not so certain.”
“Okay, what do you want me to do?”
“I sent him to go start cutting down trees to make rafts. I want you to find him and work with him,” Fortune ordered.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Mike said, moving away to find Sam. Jake hooked up with Don and Clifford.
“How’s Sam?” they both asked.
“He’s alive. But I’m not sure he’s on our side,” Fortune told them.
“What do you mean?” Don asked, alarmed. He and Sam had always been close.
“Don, did you know that Sam likes killing?” Fortune asked.
“I . . . he never said that to me,” Don stammered.
“He said it to me after we rescued him. He wanted to head back to the coast and leave the expedition to fend for itself,” Jake told them.
“My God,” Don slumped against the truck in shock.
“You didn’t know?”
“I had no idea, Captain. If I had, I would have put a bullet in his brain myself,” Don Franklin sighed.
“I believe you, Don. I’ve got Mike keeping an eye on him for now, but I want you guys watching, too. I’ve got a bad gut feeling about Sam. I’m not so sure that Dr. Erskine was the only spy in our midst,” Fortune said.
“You think Sam may be a turncoat?” Shaw asked.
“I do,” Fortune admitted.
Chac returned shortly after finding some relatively dry ground at the edge of the swamp near a clear flowing stream for them to set up camp on. He and Fortune gathered fuel for fires while the others put up tents. Construction was getting started on three rafts when Esmeralda, the cook, called them to supper. She was an ancient Mexican woman that had moved back to Mexico from Texas where she had worked many years as a trail cook for some of the last cattle drives of the previous century. She had been highly recommended by Steve Marcel, one of Fortune’s contacts in Mexico.
This night she had made a hearty stew with meat from a wild boar that one of the men had killed when it had charged the men cutting the path for the trucks. She had also added some red and green peppers and had whipped up some pan bread and biscuits.
Fortune and Rogers took the first watch while the others ate. “How was Sam acting?” Jake asked, lighting a cigar. He drew the flame into the rolled tobacco tube and then puffed until the cherry was nice and bright. He exhaled some smoke.
“I think you’re right to be worried. Sam didn’t say much, but then he never did. But it was obvious that he was pissed that you wouldn’t let him get his hands on a gun since you guys came back,” Rogers said, lighting a cigarette of his own.
“Did he happen to mention why?” Fortune asked.
“Not really, just kept grumbling about being punished for knowing when it was time to give it up. I think he’s going to be trouble.”
“I do too, Mike. Keep a close eye on him at all times.”
“How long before those guys we fought on the steamer catch up with us?”
“I wish I knew. I think they were part of the same group of krauts that braced us in the Stork Club back in New York.”
“You think they were some of those Nazi’s we were hearing about on the news?”
“They could be, Mike. From what I hear, this Hitler fellow is pretty superstitious. He is said to be a believer in the mystic arts and thinks that he can find artifacts that will help him win a coming war,” Fortune explained.
“Sounds like he’s seven different kinds of crazy,” Mike Rogers shook his head.
“More than seven, if you ask me,” Jake replied.
“You guys ready to eat?” Felix Grimaldi asked, walking up to them. Cliff Shaw was right behind him.
“Yeah, the smell of the food has been making my mouth water,” Mike Rogers replied.
“It tastes every bit as good as it smells,” Felix smiled broadly at him.
“He’s not lying,” Shaw added.
“Good to know,” Fortune said, as he headed for the fire.
As they entered the camp, Fortune caught a glimpse of Glory Newkirk. In that moment, she was unguarded, talking to the cook, brushing one of her multitude of red curls out of her face. For once, she looked relaxed and suddenly very inviting. She glanced his way and smiled. Fortune smiled back at her and something seemed to pass between them. Something unsaid but something that they both felt. He saw Glory’s cheeks flush and she then she turned and walked off, leaving him with the memory.
Fortune walked over to the cook’s table and she ladled stew onto his plate. Fortune winked when she gave him an extra biscuit and she gave him a wink back. Fortune carried his plate to a stump and sat down to eat.
Glory Newkirk had walked away when she saw Fortune approaching. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face him yet. She was still trying to sort out her feels about the brash adventurer. He made her feel safe and secure, but he also had a knack for totally infuriating her. Overhead, the howler monkeys had started in with their nightly chorus. Glory smiled. This was the adventure of a lifetime. She wished that her uncle could be along to see it! He would love it. Glory walked around the perimeter of the camp. She would head back in to join the others soon. For the mome
nt, she was enjoying the solitude.
Sam Morris had noted that he was being watched by men that in the Great War, men he had called his brothers. Now, he could feel the weight of their veiled looks, of their suspicions every time he looked at them. It was all Jake Fortune’s fault. Well, Jake Fortune would pay for it. That was something that he was going to make sure of.
He had slipped into his tent while nobody was watching. They didn’t know that he had a gun hidden in his things. Not a rifle, but one that would do. It was a revolver that he had brought with him from the States. He had a plan to get back at Fortune. He had seen the way that Fortune looked at Professor Newkirk. He was going to see how Fortune liked having his life ripped away.
Morris slipped out of the tent, the revolver stuffed in his waistband, covered by his shirttails. He had seen Glory Newkirk walk away from the fire when Fortune arrived. She would be his ticket back to the coast and from there onto a freighter that would take him far away from Jake Fortune . . .
Eric Klausen had called a halt for the night. He was sure they were getting close to Fortune and Newkirk’s group. He had called a halt at the campsite that they had used the night before. His men had efficiently set up camp. Given the thickness of the undergrowth, he knew that they could not have made more than ten miles, so he wasn’t afraid of them getting too far ahead.
He was still irritated about Erskine’s disappearance. That had slowed them down. If Erskine had kept in contact, they might have caught up with the other group before nightfall. Still, there was nothing to be done for it. He had noticed the fresh graves and determined that local bandits had attacked. The bandits had been unlucky.
Fortune had used explosives, probably dynamite, to overcome them. Then he and his men had gone out and dispatched the wounded. It wasn’t hard to read the signs. Klausen frowned. He walked the campsite. Something else had happened later. But what had it been?
Klausen didn’t like not knowing. He looked at his second in command. Horst. “Double the guard. Something happened here last night and I want to know what it was!” Klausen commanded.
“As you wish!” Horst nodded. He went to pass the word. They had several native trackers in their group. Horst would have them look around and see what they might find. Klausen pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He blew a cloud of smoke from his mouth as he contemplated the thick jungle around them. The monkeys in the trees began making a racket that was interminable, but he couldn’t have the guards shoot at them. The sounds of gunshots would carry and alert those that they were chasing. He would just have to deal with it.
Glory Newkirk was heading back in when hands snaked out of the jungle and grabbed her. One hand covered her mouth to keep her from screaming. The other encircled her waist and lifted her off the ground. Something slammed into her skull and everything went black.
“Jake,” Don Franklin asked, “Who were those guys that attacked us on the steamer? First in New York, and then again when we reached Ciudad del Carmen where we docked?”
“I have a theory about that, Don,” Jake said. “I think they are Nazis.”
“Nazis?” Tommy Grover asked.
“Some of Adolph Hitler’s men,” Fortune explained.
Chapter Eleven
Sometime during the night, the drums started. Fortune couldn’t really pinpoint when. But he had become aware of them. They weren’t threatening, but he could tell that the tribes were talking. The drums were still talking at dawn when he awakened. As always, he shook out his boots to make sure no spiders, scorpions or centipedes had taken up residence in them during the night, before slipping his feet in and stomping them into place.
He walked out of his tent to see Mike Rogers already at the cook fire getting a cup of coffee. “You hear them?” he asked, as he picked up a tin cup and poured hot coffee into it.
“Couldn’t exactly miss them, now could I?” Rogers rolled his eyes.
“I suppose not. I’d say the natives know we’re about.”
“I’d say that’s a fair bet.”
“Where’s Sam?”
“It appears he fled during the night. But he did so without any weapons other than a knife. None of the rifles or side arms are missing,” Rogers acknowledged.
“Good to know. How goes the construction of the rafts?” Fortune asked.
“All three are nearly complete. Poles for moving them as well,” Rogers told him.
“Good. I want to get moving as soon as possible. I’ve got a bad feeling,” Fortune said.
“You aren’t the only one,” Rogers agreed.
“Has anyone seen Professor Newkirk?” Mary Beth Oswald asked, as she approached the cook fire.
“Not since last night,” Fortune said, suddenly concerned. “Why?”
“Well, I stopped by her tent and she wasn’t inside. And nobody else seems to have seen her either,” Mary Beth told him.
“Mike, have you seen Sam this morning?” Fortune asked.
“Now that you mention it, no.” Both men were instantly on their feet and heading towards where Glory Newkirk’s tent was pitched. Fortune stuck his head inside. The cot was made up and had not been slept in. He stepped out and ran to Morris’ tent was located. Sam Morris wasn’t there either.
“You think Sam kidnapped her?” Mike Rogers asked.
“Yeah, I think so. Mike, you get these people moving, Chac will act as guide. I’m going after Sam and Glory,” Fortune told him.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, Mike. I’ll handle this on my own. You can help me best by locating that city for the professor,” Fortune said, his face hard.
“You got it, Jake.” Rogers said walking off. Fortune went back to his tent to grab his rifle and his second gun. The Colt 1911 went into a shoulder holster. His Colt revolver was holstered on his hip. He put extra bullets in his bag and went and grabbed some food from Esmeralda. Then he went looking for sign.
The ground told the story. Glory had been on her way back to her tent when Sam had grabbed her. She had fought him, but he had finally knocked her out and carried her away from the camp, moving along their back trail towards the coast. Sam had an eight-hour head start on him. But that didn’t matter. Jake Fortune would find him and rescue Glory Newkirk come hell or high water. He just doubted that Sam Morris would survive it!
Glory Newkirk opened her eyes. Her head was pounding from where Morris had struck her the night before. She could feel the crusted blood on her scalp and in her long curls. Then she realized that the pounding was not inside her head but outside. Native drums! She raised her head and looked around.
“Finally awake now, are we, Princess?” Sam Morris asked.
“You won’t get away with this,” Glory told him.
“Why? Do you think Jake Fortune will come and rescue you?”
“You don’t?”
“I think he’ll try, Professor. But I’m a lot better than Jake Fortune,” Sam Morris told her.
“Says you,” Glory scoffed.
“Oh, I know it,” Morris smiled grimly. “Jake will come for you, but I’ll kill him when he does. Once I reach the coast, I’ll sell you to buy passage on a ship to some faraway place where nobody will ever find me.”
“You’ll not get away with this,” Glory said.
“I guess we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” Morris grinned at her.
Eric Klausen and his men were decamping and moving along the trail cut by the Newkirk expedition when the drums began to speak. He went to his lead guide bearer and asked what they meant.
“They speak of us and the others,” Tikal replied stoically.
“What do they say?” Klausen demanded.
“They fear the first group, because they have sticks that sound like thunder and when the thunder sounds, men fall dead. They fear us because of the others,” Tikal explained.
“Fear us they should, because we will not hesitate to kill if attacked,” Klausen told him.
“They also say that one man an
d a woman with hair like fire have separated from the group and are coming back towards us.”
“That sounds like Professor Newkirk! Send out a patrol and intercept them. This may well work out to our advantage,” Klausen rubbed his hands together while smiling an evil smile. His second in command nodded and disappeared out of the tent.
Klausen headed for the tent where the radio was set up. He needed to inform his superiors that he should shortly have Professor Newkirk in his personal custody!
Morris was half dragging her along the road that had been cut and pushed down by the trucks as they had moved deeper into the jungle. They were almost back to where they had camped the previous night. Glory’s foot caught on a tree root and she tumbled to the ground, jerking Morris to a stop. He spun around, yanking hard on the rope, making her fall again. “Quit trying to slow us down, Bitch! The sooner Fortune catches up to us, the sooner I get to kill that high-handed son of a bitch!” Morris snarled.
“I wasn’t trying to slow us down, I tripped!” Glory hissed back. She struggled to her feet, blowing a stray curl out of her face.
“You’ve got some spunk, don’t you? I may have to give you a try myself before I sell you, make sure the merchandise is top notch.”
“I’d die first!”
“No, you die afterwards and if I can’t sell you, I’ll make sure that it is a slow and painful death!” Morris smiled, but it never reached his dead looking eyes. In that moment, Glory feared that she might actually die.
She prayed that Fortune would realize she was gone and come after her. She didn’t believe Morris when he said that he was better than Fortune. She believed in Jake Fortune and his promise to her uncle that he would keep her safe. No, Fortune would come after her and he would rescue her. Glory was certain of it!
Jake Fortune paused to take of his brown fedora and wipe the sweat from his eyes. He had picked up their trail not far from camp and had been going non-stop ever since. He figured that he wasn’t more than an hour behind them when they had stopped to rest during the night.
