Thief on the Cross: Templar Secrets in America (Templars in America Series Book 2)

by David S. Brody

  He leaned away from her and vomited. “Water, please,” he gasped.

  She handed him her bottle, supporting him as he rinsed his mouth. “Salazar and Astarte are just ahead. If you can make it a bit further, Salazar has found a way for us to escape.”

  They shuffled along, Amanda staggering under the weight of both Cam on her side and his pack on her back. His chin rested on his chest, his eyes half-closed. She grabbed her water bottle with her free hand and splashed water in his face. His eyes flew open. “Cam, you need to stay awake.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled.

  She spotted the wooden platform through the trees and angled toward it. “Listen. There’s one of those Zip Line rides on this side of the mountain. That’s how we’re going to get out of here.” From her summer camp days she remembered the Zip Line—a steel cable strung tautly between trees to provide children a gravity-propelled ride through the woods; apparently the ski industry had turbo-charged the concept as a way to draw thrill-seekers to the mountains in the off-season. Salazar had broken into the equipment shed and secured the harnesses and handlebars they would need for their descent.

  Salazar stood atop the raised platform, peering through his binoculars. “Hurry,” he said. “They’re not far behind.” He tossed Amanda a harness as she staggered up the stairs of the platform. “You go first, Amanda. We’ll send Astarte next.”

  Breathing heavily, Amanda slipped on the harness and tightened the straps. A half-inch thick steel cable attached to a massive steel stanchion above the platform descended into the woods and down the mountain. Salazar had mounted four sets of handlebars on the cable. He positioned her under the cable and attached her harness to the first set of handlebars. “You can hold on, but even if you let go the harness will hold you up.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Nothing. Just run to the end of the platform and jump. When you get to the bottom, disconnect yourself and wait for Astarte.”

  She nodded. “Astarte, you help Cameron get into his harness, okay?”

  The girl, already wearing her harness, began to climb off the platform, ready to dress Cam like one of her Barbie dolls. Cam smiled weakly. “Thanks, Astarte.” Wobbly-kneed, he climbed the platform stairs. Some blood had returned to his face. Just standing still for a minute or two had allowed his brain to stop bouncing around inside his skull. But he still looked like a boxer just getting off the canvas after a knock-out punch.

  Amanda leaned toward Cam and embraced him, lingering for a few seconds until Salazar interrupted. “No time for that.”

  “I love you so much,” she whispered in his ear. And then louder: “Okay, I’m off. Astarte, I’ll be waiting for you.” She smiled. “Just think. You’ll be like Wendy on her first flight with Peter Pan.”

  She took three running steps and raised her feet, allowing the cable to take her weight. The handlebars connected to the cable via a pulley wheel, and she accelerated quickly. Dangling only a few body lengths off the ground, the cable sagging slightly above her, she rocketed down the slope of the mountain, the wind bringing tears to her eyes as the trees flew by. It was like flying along the highway without a car. Frightening, yet also exhilarating.

  Suddenly the mountain fell completely away. She soared now, birdlike, hundreds of feet above a steep ravine, the noon-time sun high above her. While enclosed by a canopy of trees the cable had seemed substantive and solid, but framed now against the expanse of blue sky it appeared thread-like. She kicked her feet, the movement meaningless when weighed against the enormity of the mountain peaks around her. She was a single leaf fluttering in the forest, a ripple in the river.

  A line of trees on the opposite side of the ravine rushed at her, the cable somehow finding a gap in the forest wall. She sliced through the foliage, again only a few body lengths above the ground. In the distance a raised wooden platform blocked her path. But as if by magic her descent slowed, the sag in the line expertly bringing her to almost a complete stop as the platform floor rose up to gently meet her feet. She took a couple of quick steps to arrest her momentum, unclipped her harness, let out a whoop of relief, and turned to wait for the young, flying princess.

  Cam leaned against a support beam on the platform next to Salazar. His head pounded but he no longer felt so lightheaded—there was no way to put the egg back in its shell, but at least the yolk had stopped sloshing around in the mixing bowl. He watched Salazar send the nervous but stoic Astarte whirring down the line. The question was who was to follow her.

  “My plan was for you to go last,” Salazar said. “I need to get into position to cut the cable on the far side so Buckner and his men can’t follow.” He had disabled the other handlebar sets, but that wouldn’t stop the trained operatives from improvising a makeshift device to drape over the cable and pursue them. “I can climb up there with my tools and get ready while you’re on the line.”

  Cam blinked. “Okay.”

  Salazar handed Cam his rifle. “In case you have company. It’s semi-automatic. I saw three men come over the ridge line. They’re not far off.”

  The weapon felt cold in his hand. He was pretty sure semiautomatic meant the gun would reload itself after every shot. He blinked again. “How many rounds?”

  “Eight. The safety lock is off. Just point and shoot, like a camera.”

  There was something Cam wanted to do. He searched for the thought; it was like waking up and trying to remember a dream that had faded. But this was more important than some dream. Finally it came to him. He handed Salazar his pack. “You take these.” Now that Amanda and Astarte were safe there was no need to use the artifacts as a bargaining chip to buy time, and he didn’t want Buckner to get them.

  Salazar loosened the straps, slipped the pack over his own and clipped his hunchbacked form onto the cable. “The instructions in the equipment shed said to wait at least 90 seconds between riders. Otherwise the engineering of the cable sag gets messed up and we both crash to the ground. If I get there quicker than that, I’ll call you on the walkie-talkie.” Salazar pushed off without a look back.

  Cam checked his watch and attached his harness to the cable. Shivering despite the sunshine on his face, he eyed the narrow path leading down from the ridge line, the rifle dangling by his side, and began a steady count to 90. By the time he reached 91 he would either be in flight or dead.

  Salazar soared through the wind, oblivious to the sights and sounds and speed of his ride. Buckner and his men had already crested the ridge line and might easily overpower and capture the injured Cam before he could embark. That would be the easiest solution to this mess. Salazar would explain to Amanda that Cam had heroically fought off the operatives for long enough to allow Salazar to escape but had eventually succumbed. And that in order to complete their escape they needed to cut the cable immediately. He looked far into the future, visualized a home with Amanda in the suburbs, Astarte and his Rosalita playing together in the yard, Cam only a sad but distant memory. She was drawn to him, he was certain, even if she herself didn’t realize it yet due to the psychological damage Cam had inflicted upon her.

  His mind raced, matching the pace of the trees whipping by. Life was really nothing more than an aggregation of the choices one made, and the next few choices he made would forever alter the path of his. As he broke through the woods and out over the ravine, a gunshot pierced the wind and echoed around the canyon below. He heard Amanda scream in the distance, or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. But the gunshot was real. Cam was defending himself. Little did Cam realize that the gunshot would end up being a self-inflicted wound, validation of Salazar’s lie that Cam had been captured after a heroic final stand.

  He pictured Amanda’s face, her easy smile, the way she arched an eyebrow when making a point. He recalled how she interacted with the girl, caring and doting yet playful and light. He imagined how her body, young and lithe and toned, would mesh into his. And he pulled his knees into his chest, making himself as aerodynamic as possible.

&
nbsp; Salazar unsnapped his harness even before he stopped moving. He tossed Cam’s pack aside and slipped off his own.

  “Is Cam behind you?” Amanda asked.

  Salazar hated to see the anguish in her eyes. “I heard a shot.” He dug in his pack for the bolt cutters, welcoming the excuse to look away. Lying to her was nearly impossible. “He held them off long enough for me to get away. But I don’t see how he’s going to make it.”

  “Why didn’t you help him?”

  He tried not to sound defensive. “He told me to go, to make sure you and Astarte were safe. And he’s right. There’s no reason for both of us to die in some shoot-out. He gave me the artifacts, told me they would keep you safe.”

  He climbed a short wooden ladder at the end of the platform, reaching for the cable line. She looked up at him, her eyes wild. “What are you doing?”

  Someday she would have the same loyalty toward him. “Cutting the line. Otherwise they’ll come after us.”

  “But what if Cam fought them off? If you cut the line, you’ll kill him for certain.”

  “He’s not coming, Amanda. It was three against one.” He leaned back and slid the mouth of the bolt cutter over the cable.

  “Stop.” She sobbed. “Please stop. At least try to raise him on the walkie-talkie.”

  He held her stare. “There’s no time. They might already be on their way across. My job is to save you and the girl.” He forced the arms of the cutter together, the blades digging partway into the steel cable.

  She ran at him, screaming, and grabbed at his foot. “Stop.” She yanked, forcing him to release one hand from the bolt cutters to stop himself from falling. This was not going as planned. He shook his leg, but she held tight. Did he really want to begin their romance by kicking her in the head? If he waited much longer, Cam would come whizzing back into their lives.

  With his free leg he kicked, catching Amanda above the ear. She staggered, loosening her grip, and he tore his foot away. Before she could recover he scampered higher up the ladder and swung his legs away from her. He slid the bolt cutters over the cable a second time, found the cut he had made, and snapped the arms together. The teeth ground into the cable, fraying the individual fibers. One more cut should do it….

  A voice on the walkie-talkie cut through the forest. “Eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety. Ready or not, here I come.”

  “Cam!” Amanda exclaimed. She spun and glared up at Salazar. “Don’t you dare cut that cable.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Cam didn’t remember much of their trek down the mountain. Salazar carried his pack and Amanda supported his body. Salazar’s Toyota waited, chariot-like, at the bottom.

  Salazar and Amanda must have come up with a plan while he slept in the back seat, because when he awoke two hours later they were double-parked in front of a crowded Port Authority bus terminal in New York City. “What are we doing?” If he remembered correctly, they weren’t far from Times Square.

  Amanda turned in the front seat and smiled. “Glad to see you’re awake. How do you feel?”

  “Better, actually.” His head ached but did not throb, and the nausea had dissipated. “But I thought you weren’t supposed to let someone with a concussion sleep.”

  “Old wives’ tale—a couple of hours at a time is okay,” she responded. “Anyway, Salazar is going to take a bus back to Rhode Island and leave us with his car. I thought the city would be a good place to hide out for a few days.”

  She walked around the front of the car while Salazar grabbed his gear from the trunk. Cam rolled down his window as the mercenary approached. “Thanks,” Cam said. “Obviously I owe you a lot of money.”

  Salazar shrugged. “We’ll settle up later.” He looked somber, almost sad.

  “Hey, sorry you missed Thanksgiving with your daughter.”

  “Actually, if I catch this bus I’ll be home for dinner.” He turned toward the front seat. “Take care, Amanda.”

  She barely glanced back. “Yes, you as well.”

  Amanda put the car into drive before Salazar had even begun to back away. Obviously Cam had missed something while he slept. And just as obviously Amanda did not want to discuss it.

  “We actually don’t owe him money,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “I stopped at an ATM machine outside Phoenicia. I figured the feds already knew where we were, so why not? I used my bank card and a couple of credit cards. Paid Salazar and we still have cash to spare.”

  “Okay.” Again, he seemed to be missing something. But Amanda apparently wanted to cut ties to the mercenary.

  “So,” Amanda said, changing the subject, “we never heard the story of how you escaped from Buckner’s men.”

  “We heard a gunshot,” Astarte said. “Did you kill one of the bad guys?”

  “No, nothing that exciting. I saw them coming so I fired one shot over their heads just to slow them down, then I jumped on the Zip Line and flew away. I never even saw their faces.”

  Amanda nodded. “In that case I’m glad to be rid of Mr. Salazar.”

  It seemed a strange response, a bit of a non sequitur, but Cam’s head throbbed and he didn’t have the energy to try to figure out why.

  Amanda chewed her lip as they sat at a traffic light. She turned up the heat. Why had Salazar claimed Cam would not escape the mountain? His insistence on cutting the cable over her protestations could have been chalked up to panic or even poor judgment. But based on what Cam had just described, Salazar kicked Amanda away and tried to snap that cable knowing Cam was alive and in need of the Zip Line escape route. This went far beyond poor judgment.

  Was Salazar working for the feds? If so, why had he not finished the job and cut the cable even after hearing Cam’s voice on the walkie-talkie? Or betrayed them once they reached the base of the mountain? Or turned them over to Buckner on any number of different occasions? The more she tossed it around in her mind, the less it made sense.

  But for now at least Salazar was gone. She needed to concentrate on finding a refuge. Cam needed more rest and they all could use a meal and a shower. And they needed to examine the ancient scroll—hopefully whatever secrets it contained could somehow be leveraged into securing their freedom.

  While Salazar drove she had used her iPad to find a list of cash-only hotels in New York. She drove by one, rejected it as too seedy, and headed downtown toward the East Village. The second choice looked better—stately and solid, the neighborhood bustling with activity despite the holiday. She phoned and inquired about rates and availability. Not cheap, which was good—they wanted safe not squalid, with enough room for the three of them to spread out for a few days.

  They parked in a garage ten blocks away just in case somehow Buckner tracked Salazar’s Toyota. After stuffing their camping gear in the trunk, they consolidated everything in their packs and took the subway back to the hotel. Thirty minutes later they opened the door to a tired but clean room on the third floor with a queen bed and a high-speed Internet connection. A door in one wall connected to a second, smaller room with a single bed.

  Amanda looked deep into Cam’s eyes, trying to determine if his pupils were still dilated and, more importantly, whether he had his wits about him. “I’m thinking we should take you to a hospital.”

  “Why? There’s nothing they can do to treat a concussion.”

  “What if there’s something else going on inside that head of yours?”

  He smiled. “There’s nothing going on inside my head, trust me. I’m actually feeling better. If there was internal bleeding or something, I’d be getting worse. And if we go to the hospital, that just gives the feds another chance to track us.”

  “You could give a fake name.”

  He shrugged. “Really, I’m fine. If I feel worse, I’ll go in.”

  “What about your knee?”

  “I’m pretty sure I heard the ligaments pop. But I’m not going to have surgery, so what can they do for me?”

  “It’s going to be to
ugh to outrun that bear.” She kissed him gently on the mouth. “Astarte, you come with me—we’re going to get some pizza. Cam, you get the first shower.” She kissed him again. “Remember to check your blood sugar. When I return I’ll change the bandage on your chin. I’m also going to get you a knee brace; I saw a drug store around the corner.”

  “See if you can find a Latin dictionary also. The Codex is written in Latin, so I bet the scroll is also. And some more Advil, please.”

  “Maybe I’ll even find you some chicken soup.” She smiled. It might help warm her as well. “And while we’re gone, no looking at the scroll.”

  They had eaten a late lunch and showered and found a Disney movie on TV for Astarte, and Amanda had nursed Cam’s wounds as best she could. Amanda eyed Astarte’s backpack. “Do you feel up to examining the scroll?” she asked him.

  Astarte snapped off the television. “I do!”

  Cam smiled. “Me too. Just don’t expect me to be too quick on translating the Latin.”

  “Hey, you’re the lawyer.” Amanda reached into the back. “Speaking of Latin, take a look at this It was in the cave with the scroll and urn.” She handed him the carved stone from the cave cavity. He turned the stone over in his hand, examining it, and laid it on the bed so Amanda could snap a photo of it.

  IN CAMERA STONE

  “Do you know what ‘IN CAMERA’ means?” she asked.

  “It’s a legal term. It means ‘in secret,’ or ‘in hiding.’ And these Roman numerals across the top look like they could be latitude and longitude coordinates,” he said.

  She was glad to see Cam was thinking clearly. “So maybe something secret is hidden at those coordinates?”

  “Good guess. Let’s take a look at the scroll—maybe it’ll tell us what we’re looking for.”