“And that?” Ben asked, motioning to the tabled file.
Boyd looked down at the folder and picked it up. He held it out for his friend, wanting him to read it, a distant look in his eyes.
Ben took the offered file and opened it. Inside were graphs and test results to something he didn’t understand. That’s when he noticed that this wasn’t any kind of report that you’d find in their professions. These were the findings of a medical report.
Confused and now very concerned, Ben feverishly flipped through the few pages the folder contained, not wanting to believe what they said.
12
Chichen Itza, Yucatan, Mexico
“Shit!” Kane yells in pain as a bullet rips into his chest, knocking him to the ground. He tries to roll as he lands but ends up flopping on the grass field like a fish out of water. As he hits, he’s heavily wheezing from the impact…but alive.
“Kane, you okay!” I shout as I roll for cover. After the events of the last year, I don’t screw around when I hear gunshots. I hit the deck instantly, particularly when they are in my direction.
“Damnit-son-of-a-piece-of-monkey…”
Apparently, he’s fine—minus the bullet now lodged in his Kevlar vest. Kane had insisted on us each wearing one during our night search, just in case. He didn’t think anyone would try something during park hours. “Too many witnesses,” he had said.
I’m glad he listened to his own advice, I think, drawing my Glock, ready for anything.
We return fire towards the jungle. The two security guards join me and poke out from behind the northwest corner of the stone pyramid, and Nicole from a level higher. I’m not exactly sure how she got up the eight-foot-high wall, to the top of the first of nine terraces. She probably got a boost from someone—that’s when I see Veruca curled up in a ball, sobbing from fright, lying directly under Nicole’s position. Did she climb up the other woman, using her as a step stool?
We continue our volley, giving Kane just enough time to crab-walk to where we took cover before we are forced back by another barrage of bullets. He stumbles and crashes to the turf at my feet, breathing hard.
Lying on his back, he looks up to me and draws one of his Desert Eagles, readying it.
“You ready?” I ask, reaching up with my free hand, activating my NVS2 glasses with a press of a button.
What I see is incredible.
Within my already enhanced night vision is the new HUD I was told to expect, along with our video feeds, and the over-the-top information display of the surrounding structures. My glasses are even programmed with directional compasses, pointing the way to my partners.
Kane nods and grunts, climbing to his feet. “On my count. Then open up with everything you have and haul ass up the stairs of the Castle. We need to get to higher ground—to a more defensible position.”
We silently agree with the plan and prepare to let loose another offensive.
“Okay,” he starts. “3…2…1…”
As Kane finishes his countdown, Nicole and I, along with the two guardsmen, pop out from our cover and open fire into the woods along the perimeter of the courtyard. A faint cry can be heard, as well as a shout from out in the dark recesses. Hopefully, one of us hit one—or if we’re lucky—maybe more of the attackers.
“Move your asses!” Kane barks as we move as one, huffing it up the stairs of the Ninety-eight-foot-high step-pyramid.
I silently curse at the NVS2 for displaying the angle of descent, which is an incredibly steep fifty-two degrees and for also showing the amount of steps, ninety-one…which just plain sucks. What’s even worse is that they slowly start to countdown, after each one is conquered.
Damnit, Todd, I think, cursing the software engineer.
Veruca—who let’s face it—has probably never ventured to the top of the Castle before, quickly falls behind. She’s at least six or seven steps behind the rest of us and losing ground.
“Go back and help her,” I yell to one the guards.
He complies and turns—only to be struck in the chest by twin projectiles—sending up corresponding geysers of blood, which spray all over Veruca’s face.
She screams in horror and stumbles over the dead man’s body, blinded by the gore in her eyes. She spits and gags as well.
And…in her mouth. The thought of another person’s blood being forcibly shoved in my mouth is revolting and triggers my normally rock-solid gag reflex.
“Ugh!” I grumble in frustration, grabbing the remaining guard’s arm, dragging him down the stairs. We reach the now hysterical woman’s side and yank her up the stairs, just as bullets start to ping off the stone around us.
Our once uptight and brash chaperone has, in a matter of seconds, been transformed into a blood-soaked, blubbering, off balance toddler. She can barely walk, let alone climb the remaining fifty-plus stairs to the top.
I look at the guard, “Man… Do we have our work cut out for us?” The look on his face is one of agreement…and terror.
“We could just leave her, yes?” Replies the guard with a smirk, the tension of the situation easing back if only for a moment. Humor can do that sometimes.
Veruca cries out in fear at hearing the man’s comment. She even begins to plead for us to not leave her.
I laugh inwardly, shaking my head. This must be the security officer who was laughing earlier when Nicole went off on the woman. At least, he’s halfway composing himself.
“Move it, guys!” A voice roars from above. “Double time it!”
I look up, seeing Kane and Nicole at the summit of the pyramid, firing down behind us from the opening of the temple. Kane’s Desert Eagle booms across the open space, echoing across the courtyard, causing my ears to ring.
“Flytta den! Move it, Hank!” Nicole yells inbetween shots. “We need to get inside, now!”
Thankfully, our near-comatose tour guide snaps out of her stupor and picks up on Nicole’s urgency. Now, more aware of her surroundings and of the predicament she has found herself in, she graciously speeds up. She even let’s go of us and sprints the rest of the way, some fifteen stairs, up to the top and through the temple’s doorway.
The guard and I, who told me his name was Fernando while we staggered up the incline, hit the top step and dive in unison into the entrance. Just as we leap forward another large salvo of bullets rip through the air, slamming into the stone around us. Fortunately, the decreased angle from below is making it difficult for our foes to get off clean and accurate shots. We slide to a stop on the stone floor, where Fernando quickly gets to his feet, taking up a position inside the opening’s frame.
Lying on the cool stone floor, not being able to get up so fast, I look back and see our assailants. Ten black-clad shadows appear from the dark, rifles up. My glasses count the invading force, registering their positions, logging them into our shared database. Both Kane and Nicole see them as well.
Satisfied with at least knowing what we are up against, I scramble on all fours, backing into the roof-top temple where we will have to make our stand.
Let’s just hope we can make it out alive.
* * *
“Sir, we have them pinned down in the temple at the top of the pyramid.”
“Very good, Sara. Any casualties?”
“Yes sir, two of ours and one of theirs, but we still outgun them by more than two-to-one.”
Raven could hear a slight laugh through her earpiece. What’s so funny?
“You underestimate your prey, my winged enforcer,” Frost cooed with what sounded like delight. “You allowed your targets to gain the higher ground and you have twice the manpower, yet have lost twice the men.”
Raven knew he was right and berated herself for letting her op turn belly-up so quickly, but she knew she could turn it around. She always came out on top. It’s why she was so furious at Frost for not sending her to Algeria in the first place.
She came to a stop at the base of the northern staircase, taking cover behind a relief depicting
the feathered serpent himself, the Mayan deity Kukulkan. The remaining members of her team joined her in hiding as she quickly came up with a plan of attack.
“You three stay with me,” she said pointing to the nearest men. “And you six, break into two man teams and take a staircase each. I want these bastards surrounded and tagged.”
13
Chichen Itza, Yucatan, Mexico
“Now what?” I ask, looking to Kane for advice. He’s the former Army Ranger and current CIA agent. He should be halfway used to this kind of crap by now. I’m just the guy who keeps digging his own grave deeper and deeper with every passing month.
The biggest difference from three months ago until now is the crash course in training—both mental and physical—I’ve received. Kane wanted me prepared if things got rough again, which we figured they would, eventually. Naturally, it has come sooner rather than later.
He had me at the shooting range as often as possible, and I got in as good of shape as I could. It’s a little hard to hit the gym regularly when you don’t sleep much, but I’m in better shape than I was before…so there’s that. I’m also a pretty decent shot now and can hold my own if we get in a scrum.
Like a bunch of black-clad mercenaries with automatic rifles, I think, gritting my teeth.
“Why didn’t we bring bigger guns?” I ask, stating the obvious, but mentally give us some slack. It’s not like we prepare for this kind of situation on a daily basis.
Kane barks his orders ignoring me. “Hank, you stay up front with me and Nicole.” He then wheels on the guard. “And you—”
“Fernando,” I add.
“You stay deeper in the pocket, back in the antechamber and protect her.” He points a large finger at the unarmed, terrified tour guide.
Reloaded and ready to rock, we wait for the impending assault on our location. During the excruciatingly painful time, my NVS2 gives me readouts on the schematics of the roof-top temple.
The room directly in front of the northern staircase—the room that we are currently in—is called the Hall of Offerings. Its front entrance is broken up into three doorways. These entry points are split by two large stone columns that lead into a rectangular chamber. There’s another doorway that leads to an inner room, where the appropriately named Jaguar Throne sits.
I glance back and see Veruca huddled behind the throne with Fernando. His weapon is drawn and he’s pointing towards the front, doing as Kane ordered.
Nicole and I are inside the left opening waiting for contact, while Kane—who now has both Desert Eagles drawn—is inside to the right.
I hear a soft shuffling outside the entrance, but not coming from the staircase. A shadow cast from the construction lights below passes by Nicole and my position. It’s then I realize that the attack isn’t coming from straight ahead, but from around the corners.
A weapon appears from around Kane’s hiding spot, catty-corner from me. I don’t hesitate and neither does Nicole. We both open fire on the person—or persons—just outside, about three feet from where Kane is holed up. The report is deafening as we both send two rounds each into the two men just as one of their rifles goes off.
A wild spray of lead spews out of the dead man’s weapon as I pull Nicole to the ground, shielding her with my body. Stone and dust fly everywhere, and thankfully no one is hit.
A cacophony of gunfire erupts from everywhere, as the rest of the attackers, plus Kane and Fernando, send their own rounds pinging off the beloved archaeological site and into a few more of the attackers. Two more men go down in a hail of lead and now…I really can’t hear anything.
“Do you always have to bring those damn things?” I scream at Kane, wincing. “I can’t hear shit with you firing them in here!”
Kane doesn’t hear me, though, he keeps on firing and steps out into the open. He’s suddenly grabbed and tossed down the stairs, straight into the throng of bullets and bad guys.
He twists in midair and pulls the shooter that grabbed him in close, landing on him with all the force of a Mac truck. The merc’s neck audibly cracks on impact as Kane drives him into the limestone stairs—which by the looks of it—have absolutely no give.
He stands, recovering both of his lost weapons and runs back up the steep incline, taking them two at a time.
Getting back up to the top landing, he’s struck by a round, hitting him in his unprotected shoulder. He’s sent backwards, sprawling to the ground. As he lands, he hits his head hard on the base of one of the columns and doesn’t get up.
I stare at the big guy and see his chest rising and falling. He’s just out cold, not dead. Good.
A torrent of bullets rips into the wall around me and I dive out from my refuge. I land on the platform with a thump, shooting as I hit the hard stone floor. I graze another of the men just enough to send him tumbling down the stairs, out of sight.
If the bullet doesn’t kill him, then the fall will. I even think he hits all ninety-one of the unforgiving steps on his way down. Ouch.
My gun gets kicked out of my hand and I roll away on pure instinct—just as a knife clatters against the stone where I was just lying. I look up to see a woman with a bloodied shoulder and a devilish look in her eyes staring down at me. She takes a step forward and is bowled into by a lightning-fast frock of blonde hair.
Nicole, inbetween reloads, dives out and tackles my would-be killer, dropping her Ruger in the process. Her forward momentum sends them both careening over the edge of the top platform, where they disappear from sight.
They land in unison, hitting hard, eight feet down to the next layer. Both women cry out in pain, clutching various parts of their bodies, but neither stays down for long.
The raven haired woman recovers her knife and slashes out at Nicole—who promptly dodges the attack by ducking and spinning. Continuing her turn, she lets loose with a savage kick, solidly connecting a boot with the assassin’s knife-hand, sending the blade flying out into the night.
The two women, both weaponless, pause their respective attacks, sizing each other up. Nicole is a few inches taller than her opponent, but the other woman looks to be stronger and stockier. If Nicole can keep her distance and use her reach advantage, she shouldn’t have a problem winning this fight.
Then, she gets tackled and thrown to the ground.
Damn.
Taking a shot to the side of her head and another to the stomach, Nicole blocks most if not all the other punches. More pissed off than hurt, Nicole reaches out and grabs a handful of hair with her right hand and yanks. She halts the assault just long enough to spring a hard left directly into the right eye socket of the assailant.
The other woman wobbles and leans back, off balance, but Nicole, still having a grip on her opponent’s hair, holds on a second longer, pulls her back in and delivers another solid punch to the same spot. The dark-haired woman falls limp, crumpling to the stone ground face first next to Nicole.
Bullets ping off the stone wall around Nicole’s head and she leaps behind the prone woman’s body for cover.
“Take my hand!” I yell, reaching for her, firing blindly, having recovered my Glock in the process.
A blur of motion startles me as Fernando slides into view, assisting in retrieving Nicole from the level below. We pull her up and collapse together in a mess of limbs and sweat. I grab Nicole and hold her and give Fernando a nod of thanks.
That’s when we all realize the shooting has stopped.
Click.
We look up and see a single barrel pointed in our direction—or more accurately—in my direction.
I meet the killer’s eyes, trying to read what he’s going to do next. I mentally go through options but realize I won’t have time to bring up my weapon without him pulling the trigger first. Also, he’s too far away for one of us to try and sweep out his legs. The ball is truly in his court.
A shadow stumbles out of the Hall of Offering’s entry way and advances straight towards the man holding the rifle. The surprise on our faces
is enough for him to wheel around and acquire the “more threatening” target, Veruca. But it’s pretty obvious to everyone how useless she’s going to be when she backs into the barrel of the gun and spins around in fear.
Veruca screams like a banshee on fire, her face covered in dry blood and running mascara. The mercenary is so off guard that he himself cries out in fright and trips over the boot of one of his fallen comrades, careening off the platform. He lands, bashing his head with a crunch, dying instantly.
The three of us look up at the terrified woman and can’t help but laugh. I glance to Nicole and then to Fernando and back up to Veruca. “Our hero.”
14
Hotel Dolores Alba Chichen
Chichen Itza, Yucatan, Mexico
I lay on the bed of our new room, holding an ice bag on my head, begging for the ibuprofen to kick in. Nicole is lying next to me doing the same ice treatment to her face. She was apparently hurt a lot worse than she led on.
Kane—who is fine by the way—suggested we switch rooms and when the concierge at the front desk saw the three of us walk in battered, bloodied, and beat…he didn’t argue. We have the same less desirable rooms as before, but I have to admit, I do actually feel a little safer.
The door opens and Kane walks into twin barrels pointing at his chest. He raises his hands, wincing at having to move his injured shoulder.
“Shit…sorry…forgot to knock.”
Groaning at having to move so quickly, Nicole and I drop our heads back to the bed as one, our hearts racing.
“Dumhuvud,” Nicole mumbles under her breath.
“What?” Kane asks.
“I don’t think you want to—” I start to say, but get cut off.
“Asshole!” She yells. “It means asshole!”
He flinches at her outburst, again wincing at the sudden movement of his injured shoulder.
Mayan Darkness (A Hank Boyd Adventure Book 2) (The Hank Boyd Adventures) Page 7
