Robbed of Soul: Legends of Treasure Book 1

by Lois D. Brown

  –Range Magazine. “Montezuma’s Revenge” by Richard Menzies, Fall Issue 1998.

  Chapter 32

  “PUT THE GUN DOWN, Sherrie,” Rod said. He took a step forward, putting himself between Maria and Sherrie’s weapon. While the gesture was certainly chivalrous, it was not the smart thing for him to do. Maria was the trained CIA agent, not Rod.

  “Put your hands in the air.” The reporter looked ready for battle. She wore fatigues, army boots, and a green canvas pack on her back. “Rod, move over. I need to get Maria’s gun.”

  “What about my gun?” Rod asked, holding his ground, still trying to protect Maria.

  “Everyone knows you don’t even own one. Stand over there, now!”

  Rod moved to the right.

  “Further,” Sherrie barked.

  Rod was flush with the opposite cave wall. Sherrie quickly frisked Maria. The journalist seemed more ex-military than newspaper reporter. She was as effective as many of the police officers Maria had worked with.

  “No gun?” Sherrie said, surprised.

  Maria shrugged. “It happens, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with anything.”

  “Away with what?” Sherrie set the lantern in her hand down and opened her backpack. Her hands were much too steady. She was used to handling weapons.

  “You think you have to kill us because we know about you and the mayor. But your logic is flawed. You’ll be caught. People know we’re out here. They’ll put two and two together just like we did. We tracked your phone, Sherrie. The unlisted one you used to call the mayor. Others know about it too. If you let us go, you could pass off the mayor’s death as manslaughter. It’d be a lighter sentence. Killing us will put you away forever.”

  “The phone is circumstantial.” The item Sherrie had fetched from her pack was a rope. “I tried to get you to leave. I warned you. The car. The note. I even threatened you with divulging your past, but you wouldn’t stop sticking your nose into stuff that wasn’t your business. The old sheriff would have been so much easier to throw off the scent.”

  “Maria was doing her job,” growled Rod. “Like she said, if you kill us there’s no way you won’t be caught for our murders.”

  “Murder?” Sherrie sounded as if she were offended. “I’m not going to murder anyone. She is.” She pointed at Maria. “A murder suicide. Those are the most cowardly of crimes, aren’t they?”

  As Sherrie talked, Maria assessed the situation. Sherrie was more competent with a gun than Maria originally thought she’d be. In the beginning Maria had thought a quick kick would take Sherrie off guard and Maria would be in control of the situation. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “A murder suicide?” questioned Rod.

  “Let me set the scene, since you two like making up stories so much. A deranged police chief, racked with guilt and shame, falls in love with the town heartthrob. He rejects her, of course, which leads the insane police chief into a frenzied state of jealousy during which she shoots said town heartthrob and kills herself.”

  “The problem with that,” said Rod, “is that nobody thinks Chief Branson is insane.”

  “But they will,” retorted Sherrie, wadding up a piece of paper and throwing it to him. “Go ahead and read tomorrow’s human interest story I’ll be publishing about the chief.”

  Rod held the crumpled paper in his hand. He made no movement to open it up.

  “Read it,” ordered Sherrie, “or I’ll kill you right here.”

  Maria was baffled. What was Sherrie getting at? Everything that could implicate her was classified. No one knew except high-ranking government officers and CIA officials.

  “I don’t want to read it,” said Rod, defiantly.

  “If you don’t read it, then I’ll kill her instead of you.” Sherrie aimed the gun in Maria’s direction.

  The threat worked. Rod flattened out the wad, and, with his flashlight shining on the paper, he read the title and byline. “Kanab’s New Police Chief has Turbulent Past, by Sherrie Mercer.” He stopped and looked at Maria.

  What had Sherrie done? Who had she talked to? Why did the woman look so smug? The article title was true. Maria did have a turbulent past, and the thought of anyone in Kanab knowing about that past, especially Rod, sickened her. A wave of nausea rolled through Maria’s insides.

  “Keep going, Rod,” said Sherrie. “The article gets better than that.”

  Rod’s deep voice ricocheted in the cave as he read. “Maria Branson was only five years old when her younger sister died in a car accident. It was the first of many tragedies in the life of Kanab’s newest police chief—a woman well-acquainted with grief.

  “As a teen, Branson’s next door neighbor was murdered by a crazed drug addict. This spurred Branson’s decision to turn to law enforcement as a career. According to her senior high school yearbook, Branson’s dream for the future was to ‘make the world a safer place for everyone to live in.’ Tragically, this has not been the case.

  “Branson attended George Washington University, graduating with high honors and quickly finding employment with the Pittsburgh police, rising quickly to the top of—”

  Sherrie interrupted him. “I was a bit long-winded here. Skip down a few paragraphs to where it says ‘In a whirlwind.’ ”

  Maria’s heart pounded. This was a bluff. Sherrie didn’t really know. She couldn’t. Maria’s unsteady legs felt as if they might buckle at any moment.

  Rod looked back down at the paper, finding the place Sherrie had told him to skip to. Maria wondered if he now read because he was being forced to, or out of curiosity.

  Rod continued. “In a whirlwind career change, Branson was recruited by the CIA to work for the International Communications Department. This was a ‘front’ to her real job as a CIA undercover operative assigned to the Middle East. Both her aptitude for languages and outward appearance made her ideal for the job.

  “After a mere three years in the CIA, Branson was given the job of team leader and put in charge of a risky fake arms deal in Iran, the purpose of which was to draw out top officials of terrorist organizations in the area.”

  Rod looked up and stared at Maria. She hung her head. This couldn’t be happening. Sherrie couldn’t know the rest of the story.

  Rod continue reading, “Six months into the mission, Branson’s cover was blown. She and all of her team members were captured by an up-and-coming terrorist group with Al Qaeda ties. As team leader, Branson was forced to watch the mutilation of her team members by terrorists who wanted to extract information from Branson about the location of weapons.

  “According to a WikiLeak report, ‘Branson was forced to watch mock executions of her comrades. Various members of her team lost appendages in these displays of torture.’

  “At some point during her imprisonment, Branson did reveal the location of a stash of U.S. weapons, including assault rifles and portable explosives. These weapons were subsequently stolen by the militant terrorist group and have been used in attacks on political officials and civilians alike.

  “Upon the acquisition of the weapons, all of Branson’s CIA team members were executed, again in front of Branson. She was kept alive as a bargaining chip with the U.S.

  “Nearly one year after her capture, a U.S. Navy SEAL team orchestrated the rescue of Branson and her teammates, but Branson was the only survivor. WikiLeaks reports Branson’s botched mission caused the death of hundreds of innocent Iranians, in addition to the lost CIA operatives.”

  Rod took a deep, deep breath.

  Maria, on the other hand, couldn’t breathe. Her head swam—her heart as heavy as a bowling ball, pressing on her chest. So. Much. Pain.

  Please stop reading. Maria’s plea was a silent one. She dropped to the ground in a kneeling position. The unfairness of it all overwhelmed her. Her sobs echoed off the walls. Buried, exposed, wails of misery.

  Her life was like the glass shards from a broken crystal vase strewn across a tile floor. She had once been successful. A person o
thers were jealous of. But then her bright and beautiful world had fallen, smashing against the hardness of life. All of the memories of those horrific moments in Tehran flooded into her mind. For the millionth time she wished she could have died instead of them. If she hadn’t broken and revealed where the weapons were, her team might still be alive. But she’d failed. She had killed them as surely as if she had held the machete herself.

  “H-how did you …” Maria choked on the words.

  “How did I find out about you?” asked Sherrie. “Let’s just say my family came into a lot of money about ninety years ago.” She laughed. “Since then, we’ve made friends in high places. It’s amazing what an Aztec golden statue can buy.”

  Aztec golden statue? Even in Maria’s pathetic state of self-loathing she understood. Sherrie’s family had found Montezuma’s treasure. At least some of it. The mayor’s family must have been in on it too. As Rod had guessed, they’d killed Freddie over it. And now, decades later, Sherrie had killed Darrin Hayward, making her the sole owner.

  Maria had to make things right. She had to pull herself together. But the shame of what had happened in Tehran consumed her. Even worse, Rod knew. She hadn’t dared look at him since he’d finished reading the article. What would he think of her now?

  Who cares? Jim’s voice sounded in her mind. Your demons are gone. Your sacrifice is complete.

  On cue, a strong pang started in Maria’s little toe and then grew. The sharp stab ran through her foot, up her leg, and into her chest. Her sacrifice had been complete. Her demons were gone. They hadn’t come to her in the cemetery and they weren’t here now. A week ago the cave would have been full of her ghosts, fabricated images of a guilt-ridden mind.

  Instead, power filled Maria’s soul. The whole world could know what had happened. Let them experience what she had and see if they would have done any differently.

  Maria willed strength into her legs and stood. “Was the mayor getting greedy, Sherrie? Did he want more of Montezuma’s loot than you were willing to share?” In the corner of her eye she saw Rod try to move toward her, but Sherrie stopped him by waving the gun in his direction.

  “Stay where you are,” she said. “I need Maria to tie you up.” Sherrie reached into her open backpack and pulled out a long zip tie, tossing it to Maria. “Tie his hands together behind him.”

  Maria fingered the long notched plastic strip. “How close were you and the mayor? Do you have an Aztec tattoo as well? Like he did?”

  “So you found the marking on his body, did you?” asked Sherrie. “Yes, I have one. It marks us as keepers of the treasure, but Darrin had gotten very bad at his job. He wasn’t keeping the treasure, he was spending it. More and more every week. He was in debt to so many people. And then he got caught up in Senator Emerson’s mess.”

  Maria slowly walked to Rod, zip tie in hand.

  “Pull your boyfriend’s arms behind his back and tie him up, tightly. And don’t talk. I’m watching,” Sherrie said.

  Maria braced herself before turning her gaze to Rod. It was the moment of truth. What would his face show? He knew her secrets. Would he think less of her for them?

  She shouldn’t have worried. If Rod’s eyes could have spoken, they would have said how much he wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her until the pain left. She felt his compassion, but not pity. Like salve on an open wound.

  Rod turned and put his arms behind his back. As Maria took his wrist, he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed—a gesture to reassure her he was okay. They were okay.

  Being close to Rod was good for Maria. It reminded her of why she had become a police officer in the first place. It was to save the innocent like him. She would do anything to get him out of this cave alive. Even if it meant he would leave without her.

  Tenderly, Maria fastened the tie around his wrists.

  “Tighter,” demanded Sherrie.

  Maria did as she was told. As she pulled on the plastic strap, she asked another question. The more she could keep Sherrie talking, the less time she had to make plans, and the more likely she was to mess up. “Why did you kill the mayor in the cave?”

  Sherrie was strategically keeping her eye on Maria while trying to find something else in her backpack. If Maria had been closer to her, this would have been a great time to disarm her.

  “Darrin was stupid. He met me here, champagne in hand, to toast his idea to re-excavate the cave and get the rest of the treasure my great-grandparents hadn’t been able to retrieve before the cave-in decades ago.” With disgust in her voice, Sherrie continued, “As if I’d be excited about risking the chance of anyone finding out about the treasure or Freddie. The mayor couldn’t leave well-enough alone.” Sherrie slipped whatever she’d been searching for in her backpack into her pocket.

  “Why did you leave his body here? That was pretty stupid of you.” Maria was trying to antagonize her. It might cause enough of a distraction for her to get close to Sherrie to try and get her gun.

  “You think I’m an idiot?” Sherrie’s tone was higher.

  A-ha, Maria had found a sensitive topic.

  “I didn’t plan on killing him.” Sherrie’s face was alive with rage. “I wasn’t even sure what he was up to. But when he refused to change his mind about opening up the cave, I knew I had to do something. Unfortunately, you guys found the body before I was able to dispose of it.”

  “Couldn’t control yourself, huh?” And then, in a mocking voice Maria added “You just had to shoot him in the bravest way you knew how. Right in the back.”

  “Shut up,” Sherrie hissed. “Leave your flashlights on the ground. We’ll use only my lantern. Walk in front of me.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Rod.

  “Deeper inside the cave. Maria, you’re first in line, then Rod. Now go.”

  Maria made her way into the recently discovered passageway that led to the enormous cavern with the Aztec statue. With the only source of light being ten feet behind her, it was difficult for Maria to walk without tripping. Behind her, Rod stumbled often; his arms tied behind his back made it twice as hard for him to balance.

  Maria needed to keep Sherrie talking. It would keep her thoughts cluttered and off-balanced. “Are you really going to let Whitney take the fall for you? She doesn’t deserve it.”

  The lantern Sherrie held swung back and forth, making the light move from left to right. “I didn’t deserve it either. I didn’t live separated from society, from friends, from everyone to keep the treasure safe so Darrin Hayward could spend the money on absolutely nothing of worth. And then for him to risk exposure by reopening the cave?” A haughty laugh. “No, what’s been done is done. Whitney will survive on her own. I did for years.”

  The large cavern was up ahead. Maria continued to pick her way around the rocks as Sherrie told her to speed up.

  In her mind, Maria went over different scenarios, devising the very best way to get out of this mess. The lantern was the key. If Sherrie couldn’t see them, she wouldn’t be able to shoot them. At least not with any accuracy.

  Just as the tunnel they were in opened up into the chamber, Maria faked a stumble. At the same time, she slipped her digital watch off her wrist and dropped it to the floor. No one seemed to notice. Its glow would show her which tunnel was the way out, even in the pitch dark.

  The beams from Sherrie’s lantern cast strange shadows on the enormous stone Aztec figure in the middle of the cavern. The journalist gasped. “My great-grandparents told me about this.”

  Maria slowed down, hoping to take advantage of Sherrie’s sentimental memories, but Sherrie pushed her forward.

  “Don’t stop moving,” she said. “We need to find a side tunnel for you two love birds. Go.”

  The trio moved forward in a single file line. The lantern’s light was swallowed up quickly in the huge chamber. Maria tripped and stubbed her foot. “Oww.”

  “Are you okay?” whispered Rod.

  “Shut up,” ordered Sherrie.

 
“I need more light,” Maria said. “I can’t tell where I’m going.” The stillness of the cave was getting to her. It was as if they had entered a black hole.

  “Take the next tunnel,” Sherrie said flippantly. “It should work as well as any other.”

  Maria turned to the right, into one of the larger passageways that broke off from the cave’s main chamber. The air smelled stale. No one had been in there in years. As they walked further into the tunnel, Maria tried to think of another question to ask Sherrie, but none came. Maria’s thoughts were sluggish, like an oversized semi-truck going up a steep hill. It took more and more energy to keep moving.

  Not more than a few seconds later, a dull throb started in Maria’s head. It quickly changed into a stabbing pain. She pressed her eyes closed and then opened them again. Strange. She hadn’t realized even darkness could look blurry.

  They were thirty feet into the passageway when Sherrie said to stop. “Rod, sit over there. Maria, I want you ten feet this direction.” As if Sherrie were directing a performance of Hamlet, she positioned Rod and Maria in the exact spots she wanted them for their murder suicide. As she gave orders, she rubbed the sides of her temples and made soft grunting noises.

  “Sherrie,” said Rod, “don’t do…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

  Maria wished she could sit down for just a minute, too. Not only did the inside of her head bang, but she felt like she was going to throw up, as if her stomach was full of curdled milk left out of the fridge too long. She needed to rest her head on something. Even for just a minute.

  Glancing at Rod, she saw his eyelids were now closed. Was he really going to fall asleep with everything that was going on? Maria almost felt jealous. She’d love to take a nap, too.

  A warning bell rang in her head. Something was wrong. She shouldn’t want to take a nap right before someone was about to kill her. As Sherrie positioned Rod, she slurred her words. “You need to move backkk.”

  The woman was acting like she was buzzed on alcohol. What was happening?

  The answer came to Maria’s mind, like a word written on a blackboard in the front of the classroom at school: Carbon dioxide poisoning.