“Following your trail. Buckner and two friends. They’re two-thirds of the way to the first ridge line, moving fast. I see them once in a while through the trees. Where are you?”
“Near the top of the second ridge line, still in the saddle, maybe 100 yards west of where the trail ended on the first ridge line.”
“I’m another 200 yards further west, where the two ridge lines come back together. I’ll wait here for you.”
“Astarte, you stay here and keep watch,” Cam said.
She scowled. “I want to come in and find the artifacts.”
“Sorry, it’s too dangerous,” he said. “There may be wild animals in the cave.”
She glared at him. “I’m the fortieth princess. It is my destiny to find them.”
“And you did, Astarte,” Amanda said. “You are the one who found the cave. But there is another important job for you. We need a look-out, someone with really good eyes. Call to us if you see anyone approaching.”
They were running out of time. Buckner and his men were probably only 20 minutes away. And Cam and Amanda had made no effort to conceal their tracks. Cam ducked into the cave, Amanda behind him. “Yuck, bats,” Amanda said, her light shining on a pulsating cluster of rodents in a corner of the cave ceiling.
“They’re hibernating. They won’t bother you if you keep your light off them.” His light showed the cave to be the size of a large bedroom.
“What, exactly, are we looking for?” Amanda asked.
“January thought there’s an ancient scroll up here, probably in a clay container. And maybe also an urn with the ashes of Marie-Claire, the princess.”
“Astarte’s ancestor.” “Right.”
Starting on opposite sides of the entryway they walked the perimeter of the cave. A few seconds later they met along the back wall. “Whatever might have been here is gone now,” Amanda said.
A waist-high, tunnel-like opening along the back wall led deeper into the mountainside. Cam shone his light into the tunnel. Water dripped from the roof of the tunnel and flowed back toward them, pooling at Cam’s feet. “Unless they hid the stuff in here.”
“Well, there’s no way to find out now. That tunnel is too steep to crawl into, especially being slick with water. And I don’t think they would have put a scroll up there anyway. It’s too wet; the scroll would be ruined.”
Cam nodded, secretly relieved that her logic meant he wouldn’t have to crawl into the fissure. He let out a long sigh. It was probably too much to expect that an ancient scroll would go undiscovered for over 800 years. But after having such good luck finding all the clues, he actually thought they were on track to find the artifacts. “Let’s look for a few more minutes, then get out of here.”
“Maybe the scroll is buried,” Amanda said.
They continued their perimeter walk, probing the base of the cave wall with their walking sticks. Cam found nothing and moved to the middle of the cave, kicking at the ground with his boot. All he unearthed was bat guano.
“If we had time, we could dig,” she said.
“I’m not sure it would do much good. The Dead Sea Scrolls were in caves but weren’t buried. Same with all these Burrows Cave artifacts, assuming they’re not all fakes. The cave itself was supposed to be the hiding spot.”
“Well, it apparently wasn’t a very good one. Someone beat us to it.”
With a final arc of his flashlight, Cam followed Amanda out of the cave. Astarte sat on a rock outside the entrance, her back to them. She did not turn to them as she spoke. “I knew you wouldn’t find them. You’re not the princess.”
“We’ll come back another time and have another look,” Amanda said. She glanced over her shoulder. “But for now we need to leave.”
They arranged their packs and began trudging westward along the upper edge of the saddle toward Salazar, staying below the ridge line to avoid being silhouetted against what had become a bright blue mid-morning sky. As had been the pattern all morning, Cam led with Amanda behind him and Astarte trailing. For the first few minutes he picked a path through the dense growth to stay concealed from Buckner and his men. Then he angled up the ridge line, where the growth was thinner, dragging his bad leg behind him.
“What next?” Amanda asked, panting.
“Find Salazar.” The exertion made his head pound. “Hopefully he can help us get off this mountain alive. If we have to maybe we can bluff Buckner into thinking we found something.” With every step the pack bounced against his back. “Then I think we need to go public or something. Bring attention to ourselves so people will notice if we end up dead.”
“It’s a bit of a cliché, but maybe we should write up a summary of everything we know and send it to someone we trust. Then threaten to let it go public if anything happens to us.”
He turned his head. “Might work. Hey, where’s Astarte?”
Amanda spun. “I don’t know. She was just right behind me.” She called for the girl. Nothing.
Before she could call again, Cam put a hand on her arm. “Not too loud.”
They waited a few seconds, but no response. “She went back to the cave,” Amanda said.
“Shit. I bet you’re right.”
Amanda sprinted toward the cave. Cam took two strides, dropped his pack and hobbled after her. “Drop your pack,” he called.
She ran gazelle-like through the brush, her gymnastics training evident in her balance and agility. Even healthy he would have trouble beating her in a sprint. He ignored the pain in his knee and managed to keep within sight of her, while at the same time noting their path so they could find their way back to their packs. “Head more to the right,” he called.
A hundred yards further, his face raked raw by branches and brush, he reached the cave. A faint light emanated from within the enclosure. He ducked inside, his head throbbing.
“Look what Astarte found, Cam.”
The little girl stood along a side wall of the cave, her pink Disney flashlight aimed slightly upward. Cam dropped to his good knee and followed the light beam—the cave wall overhung a shelf-like cavity about three feet off the ground. The cavity was not visible from adult eye level, but Astarte’s eyes were the perfect height to notice the cavity behind the overhang.
She turned to Cam. “Sometimes you have to be small to do big things.”
Amanda carefully reached under the overhang in the cave wall, her hand probing for objects resting on the shelf-like ridge in the cavity. She was so excited she almost didn’t think about the possibility of spiders or snakes viewing her fingers as lunch. Almost.
Cam had retreated to the front of the cave to stand watch, while Astarte stood next to her, video camera held steady. How odd to be eight years old and so sure of your life’s destiny. And then to have that destiny fulfilled. Hopefully the girl would find happiness along with her fate.
Her finger brushed against a hard, rounded object. Ducking her shoulder under the overhang, Amanda encircled the cold orb with her fingers and pulled it gently forward. The object felt fairly light, but she did not want to take any chances and reached her second hand into the cavity to help support its weight. Moving slowly, she grabbed the cylinder and eased it off the shelf and out of the cavity. She held it out it to Astarte, a kind of royal offering.
The girl nodded somberly and together they eased the cylinder to the ground. Astarte bowed her head over the object and waited as Amanda shone the Disney flashlight on it.
The light revealed a beige clay canister a bit larger than a one-liter soda bottle. A ceramic lid, matching the canister, covered the open end and was held in place by some kind of wax seal. Fighting the urge to pop open the top, Amanda slid the canister into Astarte’s Little Mermaid backpack and returned to the cavity.
Working quickly, Astarte still holding the camera, Amanda found another object, a round clay vessel about the size of a cookie jar with a narrow opening topped by the same type of clay lid. January said they were looking for a scroll and a funerary urn, and it appear
ed they had found exactly that. “Okay,” Amanda said, “let’s go.”
“Wait. There might be something else.”
So far the girl’s instincts had been spot on. Amanda reached in again, searching with her fingers. From the far recess of the cavity she extracted a rectangular stone the size of a paperback book. She grabbed it and blew the dust away—someone had carved into its brown face a series of Roman numerals plus the words “IN CAMERA.” Amanda stared at the object. What could it mean?
Amanda cushioned the pieces in the backpack with a sweatshirt and an extra pair of socks and zipped the pack closed. She lifted the pack, swinging it by a strap to make sure the artifacts didn’t shift. Did finding the objects, and thereby fulfilling Astarte’s destiny, somehow ensure they would survive today’s ordeal? After all, what kind of destiny would it be if the bad guys ended up with the little princess’ treasure? Then she recalled the sound of the gunshot whizzing by her ear. “Time to go, Astarte.”
The girl placed her hand firmly on Amanda’s and lifted her chin. “Okay. But I shall carry the artifacts.”
Cam’s walkie-talkie buzzed as Amanda and Astarte emerged from the cave. Their wide smiles conveyed the good news.
Salazar’s words tempered it. “Buckner’s team is less than a hundred yards from the cave.”
“We’re leaving now.” He motioned for Amanda and Astarte to follow as he retraced their original escape route, his full concentration needed to remember the path.
“I’ll try to buy you some time. Don’t be surprised if you hear a gunshot,” the mercenary said. As unbalanced as Salazar was, out here in the field he was a trained pro.
Cam reached for Astarte’s pack as they jogged through the woods but the girl shook her head. She was keeping up, so Cam didn’t press the point. Ten seconds after the walkie-talkie conversation a rifle shot rang out and echoed off the mountain peaks.
It would take the agents a while to figure out where Salazar’s shot came from, and Salazar would be smart enough to limit his shots so as not to let them home in on his location. But the strategy would only buy them a few extra minutes. At some point the trained agents would overtake an injured and overburdened pair of civilians hiking with a young child.
They retrieved their packs and worked their way toward Salazar at the front of the saddle. The fear of Buckner’s men so close, and the sobering reality of Salazar’s gun shot, should have given Cam a burst of adrenaline. But the exertion of their escape had sapped him. He felt light-headed and lethargic. Amanda must have noticed—she took his hand and led the way, adjusting their course in response to another gunshot from Salazar.
“I see you guys,” Salazar said over the walkie-talkie. “Angle up toward the ridge line on your right.”
“Where’s Buckner?” Cam murmured.
“They’re tracking you, but they’re staying low and ducking behind trees. So they’re not really gaining on you. But I can’t give you much more cover; at some point they’re going to find me and start shooting back.”
Five minutes later Salazar called down to them; he had climbed halfway up a pine tree. A rifle lay across his waist and a pair of binoculars hung around his neck. His eyes shone—he was enjoying this, like a kid playing cowboys and Indians in the woods with his friends. He gestured to five pear-sized rocks piled at the base of the tree next to his pack. “How’s your throwing arm?” he asked Cam.
Cam leaned against a tree and gulped some water. “Pretty good. I pitched in high school.”
“You’ve got five chances to hit that outcrop over there.” He pointed to a bald ledge of rock along the ridge line, in the general direction of the cave. “A stone hitting it will sound like a gunshot. Should slow them down and redirect them.” He dropped his rifle to Amanda and began to climb down.
Cam grabbed a couple of rocks, bending slowly to avoid the nausea. The outcrop was less than a football field away, slightly downhill. Not much different than throwing out a runner at the plate from the outfield. Fortunately the injuries were to his left middle finger and left knee; as a righty he would push off with his right leg. He moved a few feet to his left to clear some trees, wound up, and heaved. The rock skidded into the trees, well short of the target. Obviously he had lost a bit off his fastball. He took a deep breath and weighed the second stone in his hand, blinking a couple of times to focus on his target, and wound up again and threw. This one was a strike, the impact of rock on rock splintering the air like the sound of a wet towel being snapped poolside. Not exactly a gunshot, but close.
“Nice, Cameron,” Amanda smiled.
A gunshot from deeper in the saddle answered his volley, erasing her smile.
Salazar leapt from the tree and grabbed his pack. “When they stop to shoot they lose time. But they’re not far behind. Follow me.”
As he led them down the backside of the mountain, he turned and smiled at Amanda. “I think you’re going to like this.”
Salazar bounded his way through the woods, swallowing a smile. Thorne was in rough shape. He would have trouble keeping up.
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Thorne must be brainwashing Amanda. Or drugging her even. She was vulnerable, alone in a strange country, with no family to protect her. Thorne had preyed on her like a predator.
And now she didn’t even know better, didn’t remember what it was like to have free will. Battered wife syndrome. Cognitive dissonance. He had seen enough shrinks lately to pick up on some of the terminology. They said the pressure of being a mercenary was getting to him. Bullshit. All he needed was a loving wife, someone who appreciated him.
As he stopped quickly to adjust course, Amanda brushed against him. Even her sweat smelled fresh, as if the morning dew of Mother Nature flowed from her pores. Did he really just think that? He laughed at himself—love turned even a soldier into a poet. He lingered next to her for a few seconds.
“Are you able to keep up?” he asked.
“For now. Astarte seems more rabbit than girl. Cam hurt his knee, and he’s lagging a bit, but he’ll bully through.”
Salazar resumed the trek, Amanda and the girl on his heels and Cam lumbering behind. Salazar’s strategy now was to play defense; he passed on a handful of chances to take out their pursuers because he preferred not to deal with the fallout from killing a federal agent. Plus he needed them to do his dirty work. Like lions hunting a herd, they would cull out the ailing Thorne and take him down. Then he could rush Amanda and the girl to safety. It was the perfect scenario—she might never forgive him if she suspected he killed her lover, but she would be forever beholden to him if he saved her and the girl before they met the same fate.
Ten minutes passed, the distance covered perhaps a half mile through the thick brush. In a clearing ahead, he spotted a raised wooden platform. “That’s where we’re going,” he said to Amanda “What is it?”
He increased the pace. “Our escape.” And their future.
No way was Cam going to ask the group to slow down, but there was also no way he would be able to continue at this pace all the way down the mountain. When he walked his knee joint alternately buckled and locked—he had felt the ligaments snap like elastic bands when his knee twisted during his fall. He had wrapped the knee with an ace bandage; the bandage, his jeans and some connective tissue felt like the only things connecting his femur to his tibia. As hard as climbing had been, descending was far worse as every other step shifted his entire body weight onto the frayed joint.
At some point he would let the others go ahead and take his chances on his own. He considered dumping the artifacts to ease the strain on his knee—the really good stuff was in Astarte’s pack anyway. But Buckner didn’t know that, and the artifacts might be the only bargaining chip he had once they caught him. By threatening to destroy them he might be able to barter for his life.
His knee buckled again; this time he couldn’t catch himself and he tumbled forward, skidding to a stop as his head slammed against a tree. A sharp whistle
pierced his ears and the objects in the forest danced and swayed. He closed his eyes. It would be nice to just lie there and take a short nap….
The whistle began to fade. In fact, the forest had turned silent. And his head didn’t hurt so much anymore. A little nap would do him good. Just a few minutes….
Amanda’s face. Wake up, she commanded. We have a life together. Don’t you dare screw it up. He jolted. Panicked at how close he had come to letting go, he lurched to his feet. Staggering, he vomited, chunks of energy bar and trail mix splattering his boots and littering the forest floor. He held a tree for support and wretched a few more times. Finally he steadied himself and splashed some water on his face. It felt wet, which told him he must be alive.
If only he had thought to ask Salazar for a weapon—he could have found a defensive position and held off Buckner long enough to allow Amanda and Astarte to escape. And, sappy as it was, it would have been nice to have thought ahead and kissed Amanda goodbye.
Stumbling, he bounced from tree to tree down the trail, using his arms to grab at branches to arrest his fall. The pounding of the descent was causing his already concussed brain to bounce around the inside of his skull, destroying his equilibrium. He lost track of time, one tree looking like the next, only vaguely aware that he was following the path of broken branches left by his companions. At any moment he might lose his balance one final time and end up crumpled at the base of some tree, the backside of the mountain finishing the job started by the front face.
And then Amanda appeared from behind a tree like some medieval forest fairy, floating toward him. At first he thought he had fallen asleep again. But she slipped her arm around him and removed his pack, whispering in his ear. “I’m here, Cam. I’ve worked too hard to train you to just leave you up on this mountain.”
Amanda tried to keep her tone light, but the reality was Cam’s condition had deteriorated rapidly. His pupils were fully dilated and his breathing light and irregular. She should not have allowed Salazar to push them so hard.
Thief on the Cross: Templar Secrets in America (Templars in America Series Book 2) Page 21
