*
Caitlyn swung as Dingo approached her. The wooden planks attached to her arms caught his shinbone, making him hop.
“Oh man,” he breathed. “This is gonna be so much fun.”
Caitlyn’s brow dripped sweat. Her fear made her hunch up into a ball as Dingo jabbed the prod forward. Luckily the prongs slipped past her left ear and struck the wall. Caitlyn immediately scolded herself. Sitting there and turning into a terrified ball of sweat wasn’t going to keep her alive. When Dingo poked again she swatted the prod aside with her arms, protected by the timber. Dingo surprised her by kicking her hard in the thigh. When she cried out he thrust the prod toward her again, catching her in the sternum.
Caitlyn cried out. She kicked frantically at his legs again and again, her movements powered by strength born of terror, anger and pure old-fashioned stubbornness. Dingo skipped away. Caitlyn knew the game was almost up.
Last chance. No more options.
With a heave that took most of her strength she used the side wall to lever herself upright and then launched herself straight at Dingo, in mid-flight, striking his upper body with her own and taking him to the ground. The two of them crashed together, the cattle prod skidding away.
Caitlyn bore down hard.
Dingo grabbed her throat. “Bad mistake.”
*
Alicia took out the first few men, quickly aware even in the midst of battle that there were no offices within the confines of the warehouse. Caitlyn wasn’t in here. That meant they needed a hostage. The banda were a fearsome opposition, screaming and shouting as they poured forward, weapons brandished above their heads in the way of warrior tribesmen. The bullets tore them to pieces, but that recourse soon proved tricky when armed opponents began to find superior firing positions.
Alicia moved constantly, slipping between cars and toolboxes. After sheltering behind one six-foot-high, bright-red unit for a minute she began rolling it toward her enemy, still hiding behind it. To both sides she thrust out her gun and fired alternate shots. Before she reached the far end she dived behind an old Mercedes S-Class, letting the roller box continue. By the time it crashed into the far wall it was riddled with holes and so were the men shooting at it, their focus destroyed. Alicia managed to disarm one of the Mexicans and take a good grip of his shoulders whilst aiming her gun at his midriff.
“Talk,” she said amidst the sound of shouting and gunfire. “Where’s the girl?”
“No speak! No speak!”
Alicia fired a bullet into his stomach. “Then you’re no good to me.”
She tripped another who poked his head around the side of the car, eyes opened wide when he saw the fate of his friend, groaning and slowly dying. Alicia quickly put him in the same position.
“The girl?”
“I . . . I . . .”
“Be careful what you say, asshole.”
“Out back. Through the stacks. There is an office.”
Alicia spoke through the team’s Bluetooth connection. “I have a location. Back me up now!”
Caitlyn would not die today.
A sudden eruption of gunfire stunned the air as Alicia ducked out of hiding and ran full tilt toward a rear exit. At first the Mexicans concentrated their fire on her; bullets fizzed and ripped up the concrete and metal hulks all around her; her sprint was a dash through a barrage of death. She ran hard, not stopping nor even flinching when a hard tug signified hot lead piercing her jacket and again when a searing flash scorched her upper thigh.
Caitlyn will not die today.
Then her colleagues drew the bulk of their enemy’s attention, shooting volley after volley. Mexicans flew backward amidst sprays of blood and cracked bone, decimated flesh. But this was not a weak band of mercenaries, this was a Mexican gang, born and raised in fire with expectations to die young. Instead of retreating and regrouping they forged forward. Russo and Healey were forced down. Crouch barely kept his head. Only Lex showed a certain foolhardy mettle, copying Alicia’s example and standing strong through the fusillade.
Alicia rolled near the end. Bullets struck all around her. A broken shell, an old giant, rocked and shuddered and fell apart in front of her. She picked her way through, feet barely touching the floor. Something smashed into her back, sending her into a second roll and when she came up she found the back entrance right before her.
She slipped outside. A graveyard scene met her eyes. Piles of chopped cars, each stacked atop the other; five rows of rusted wrecks, ruined carcasses.
Alicia sprinted down the first row. A man stepped out in front of her, machete swinging at her head. Alicia ducked and slammed into his chest, sending him cartwheeling back into one of the piles, gratified when the entire mass started to topple slowly onto him. Another man charged her, head down. She stopped for a second, caught his neck and twisted him right off his feet, the spinning body broken and lifeless before it hit the ground.
The office lay ahead, built against the rear of the property. Alicia aimed for the door. She didn’t slow down.
*
Caitlyn looked up as the door smashed inward. Dingo’s hands were still around her throat, making the whole scene swim before her eyes but the crazy beautiful figure of Alicia Myles was unmistakable. She was Kristen Bell and the Terminator all rolled into one but twice as deadly. Blood soaked her jacket, tears in her jeans indicated knife wounds or even grazes from bullets. Dingo’s instant reaction was to let go of Caitlyn and defend himself.
Alicia’s voice crept through Caitlyn’s haze. “Don’t bother, asshole. You were dead the moment you touched her.”
Dingo flew at her. Alicia stepped clear of his range, then came back in, somehow aiming an elbow to the back of his neck even as she tripped him. Dingo flew headlong, but managed to catch himself, no slouch from his years on the streets. He came in again, this time with more care, fists positioned like a boxer. Alicia backed toward Caitlyn.
“You ready for some fun?”
Caitlyn shook her head, not in rejection but in amazement. How could she stay calm at a time like this? She watched the woman’s body, the way she held herself and adjusted to Dingo’s every move. She sensed the power that flowed through every poised sinew, the pure skill that permeated her every thought.
God, I so wanna be as good as her.
Determination and pride spurred her on. With a last glance her way, Alicia met Dingo’s attack head on, easily matching him blow for blow. Not only that, Alicia caused damage even when defending herself. Dingo’s face grew bloody, his arms heavy. Caitlyn saw the fight go out of him as Alicia broke his nose and left arm in a single maneuver.
“He’s all yours.” Alicia flung the weakened man so that he fell at Caitlyn’s knees. Even then he struggled, hate in his face, bringing an arm around.
Caitlyn thrust the cattle prod into his face.
The fizzling sound of flesh filled the room. Caitlyn pressed on, holding the prongs in place until the man passed out and then began to gingerly press her own throat.
“A few bruises.” Alicia peered closely. “Nothing worse than you’d get from a heavy night out with the boys. You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.” Caitlyn’s voice sounded deep and husky due to the damage.
“Oh, and perfect that tone and they’ll be eating outta your hand at least, if not your—”
“Thank you!” Caitlyn enthused, almost ready to grab the Englishwoman and start hugging her. “You saved me.”
“We don’t hug in the military,” Alicia said a little gruffly. “Maybe a pat on the back. A smack on the ass if you’re really lucky. You coming?”
Caitlyn rose; battered, bruised and shocked but feeling better than ever. Was this how it felt to have a real family?
She’d almost forgotten.
FOURTEEN
Alicia dabbed her thigh and left arm with water then antiseptic before applying a bandage, bemused that the only person in the room trying not to stare at her was Michael Crouch.
“I realize they�
�re a nice pair of pins,” she said in annoyance. “But at the end of the day they’re just legs. Healey, you ever see this far up a woman’s leg before?”
She was sitting on a couch in their new communal hotel room, jeans resting on the arm beside her as she fixed her wounds.
Russo didn’t try to hide his eyes. “Can’t you do that in one of the bedrooms?”
“Sorry, this ain’t one of the two things I do in a bedroom.”
Caitlyn was also staring, but with admiration. Alicia was the single most confident, powerful woman she had ever encountered. “I have a pair like that, but they can’t do half as much as yours can.”
Alicia grinned rudely. Caitlyn realized what she’d said a second later and blushed. “I didn’t mean—”
Alicia saw Healey gawping between Caitlyn and her. “Ole Zack here’s wondering if you could try, though.”
“I . . . I . . .” Healey didn’t know where to put himself so ended up staring hard out the window.
“He did help save you,” Alicia pressed on. “Maybe a little reward?”
Now Caitlyn was reddening even further. “The only thing I know,” she said after a short pause. “Is that if I’m fighting with you guys I want to be able to fight like you guys. That’s all.”
Now Crouch turned his head from where he’d been in conversation with Jose Cruz. “I like that kind of thinking.”
Alicia nodded, still dabbing her wounds. “And I like a girl that doesn’t quit at the first obstacle. Good for you.”
Healey spoke directly to the window. “I could help to train you if you like.”
Caitlyn nodded. “That would be great.”
They team had been together, resting, recovering and seeking to determine the impact of what Caitlyn had revealed to the enemy, for a few hours. Caitlyn felt the room swell with respect when she revealed that she’d kept their secret even under deadly pressure. It was a moment of comradeship, of new belonging, earned on the front lines and treated with respect.
At last, Crouch had taken the map and the notes out and they’d sat down to figure out a plan of action. Cruz, tired of waiting for the action to be over, had joined him. As Healey put it, the Aztec treasure was out there but where would it lead them next?
Crouch addressed the room. “Working from our notes I’ve managed to calculate that if the Aztec warriors walked roughly north, as the map states, for fifteen to twenty days, which is the closest approximation I can make using their calendar, their detailed, almost perfectly straight route would take them into Arizona.”
“Big place,” Cruz said.
“Sure. And there’s another problem. You remember the accurate dateline they gave us for the entire march?”
Healey finally tore his gaze away from the window. “I do.”
“If it’s right,” Crouch mused. “It means that the caravan traveled beyond Arizona, probably to Utah judging by the timeline, then doubled back before arriving at the point where the poem takes over and starts giving us directions like a treasure map.” He stared around the room for suggestions.
“Misdirection?” Caitlyn submitted. “Now we have two locations.”
“Or they split it up,” Russo said. “Two treasure troves.”
“Or maybe they just scouted Utah, didn’t like it, and went back to Arizona,” Cruz told them. “We can’t second guess them five hundred years later.”
“What’s not to like about Utah?” Russo wondered. “It’s a perfect location for any traveling caravan.”
“I agree with Jose,” Crouch said. “We don’t know. But it has to be checked out. As I mentioned previously the timeline is very accurate. The Aztecs were advanced in almost every aspect of building, guidance and travel. I studied the map itself, using the ancient calendar, and have also fed it into a simple modern geographical program. Both the physical and tech results point to one thing—the area around the Grand Canyon for the second location.”
Caitlyn walked over to Crouch and stared at the computer screen. “Aztec writing has been found far into the US. Utah is what, three thousand kilometers from Mexico City? That would take a fit man fifteen to twenty days to walk, I reckon.”
Crouch nodded. “And in answer to another suggestion, why would the warriors add any kind of misdirection to a map they were taking back to their elders? Doesn’t make sense. Utah, the furthest location, means something, and so does the second, Arizona.”
“How close . . .” Alicia waved toward the screen as she stood up and shrugged her jeans back on. “Can you get? I mean, does it point to the right cave?” Her features took on a bemused expression. “That would be nice.”
Crouch made a face. “It’s accurate, but both Utah and Arizona are big places. The poem should help with the Arizona location, another reason to go there second. With Utah, although the timeline gets us fairly close, I think we need boots on the ground and see what pops.”
Caitlyn waved a hand at the screen. “The map Healey copied has several markings. I guess they’re landmarks, and pretty distinctive even in Utah. How closely did you copy the map, Zack?”
The young man shrugged. “I’m a field agent that occasionally relies on being able to read and make sense of a map to save lives, including my own,” he said. “Pretty closely.”
“Then we have a starting point,” Crouch said. “If you guys are ready to try Utah I’ll make the arrangements.”
“One thing’s for sure,” Caitlyn said, glancing around the room. “It can’t be more dangerous than where we are now.”
Alicia winced. “Damn. Now you jinxed it.”
“Story of my life.” Russo snorted.
“Ah, so you’re our jinx?” Alicia shot back. “And here’s me thinking that sunny disposition might qualify you for being our mascot.”
“Life’s a bitch,” Russo murmured. “And so’s our boss.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Nah. It’s glowing praise.”
“Thought so.”
Crouch closed his laptop. “You ready?”
Healey bounced to his feet, shining with enthusiasm. “Let’s go track it down!”
FIFTEEN
Kanab, a city of Kane County, Utah, is located a tad north of the Arizona state line. Founded in the 1800s there are now over three thousand people living there. Arguably best known as a location for many old westerns, including Stagecoach, The Lone Ranger and The Outlaw Josey Wales, its attractions also include much of the Grand Circle—the Vermillion Cliffs and Bryce Canyon, Zion National Park and Lake Powell.
After several hours of research, Crouch called the others to full alert in the cramped confines of the small private plane.
“It seems in 1914 a man arrived in Kanab saying that in his research he found that the great treasure of Montezuma was hidden in the mountains around the town. After much searching and digging, a plan was formed to drain the lake in the hope that the treasure lay in an underwater cave. This plan was later blocked by the government because it was one of the few refuges of the ambersnail.”
“Underwater cave?” Alicia raised her voice. “I’m about as happy in water as I am in the desert. Which means—not.”
Russo grunted. “I have a little training, not so much experience.”
“I think we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Crouch said. “The map we have doesn’t even show a lake.”
The plane landed with a bump and a squeal, taxiing speedily to the hangar. When Crouch and the team had cleared customs they headed into downtown Kanab. Alicia stared at the single-story hotels, the wide streets, pawn shops, western-themed restaurants and photo shops; the tall, lush green trees and the mountainous, red-hued backdrop, the Utah monuments towering over all, and came to a single conclusion.
“In this town,” she said. “A secret’s gonna be hard to keep.”
“Wow,” Healey said. “The closer you get to that mountain the more impressive it becomes.”
“You sound like my last girlfriend,” Russo said wit
h a rare outburst of humor.
Alicia soon quashed it. “They found a female Sasquatch then?”
Caitlyn laid a hand on Healey’s arm. “Fantastic country. I know exactly what you mean.”
Healey beamed at her. Alicia thought back to the long plane journey from Mexico. Healey had taken it upon himself to begin Caitlyn’s induction into the art of self-defense. Nothing major at first, he’d told her.
“I’m a fast learner,” she’d said.
Healey had nodded. “Yes, but I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
Caitlyn had pointed to the raw cuts and bruises around her wrist. “Overwhelm me.”
Alicia knew there was a vast difference between being taught by a civilian instructor and a special-forces soldier, just as there was a vast difference between the actual knowledge they gave you to start with. Preservation of life and helpfulness to the team was of major import. With the Army there were no colored belts.
Alicia had watched Healey train Caitlyn and had offered her own advice. Lex had watched proceedings closely and even Russo came up with a trick or two. Lex had leaned over the back of his chair, saying, “When he’s shown you the soldier’s way I’ll show you the biker’s. It’s quicker.”
Alicia saw Healey as the kind of guy that could achieve big time, but needed the security of more experienced people around him. The skills were there, the willingness was unquestionable, but the true man would never break out unless it was nurtured properly. In the brief time she’d had to glean his file she’d put this down to a warring family. Back home, Healey had been the youngest in a three-sibling family, mother, father and siblings always at each other’s throats with Zack usually the scapegoat. This affected his behavior at school, which led to worse grades and more reprimands; more humiliating abuse from his older brothers. The Army had offered a way out, a chance to learn from greater, responsible figures. It had given him his life back.
Alicia compared Healey’s story to that of her own. It wasn’t the same, but it had many parallels and offered up those same two fundamental questions: Why were some parents so blind to their own children’s difficulties and why weren’t they more aware of and responsive to the situations they themselves created?
Alicia myles 1 - Aztec Gold Page 9
