Shrouded in Secrets

by Kim McMahill

  “Vibrations and signals don’t sound sinister enough to account for the effort Zara has gone through to amass these artifacts,” Cash stated.

  Pete shrugged and took a sip of coffee. “Maybe we’re on the right track, maybe we’re not. At the moment, we’re just investigating every angle, trying to figure out why anyone would want the relics enough to go to such extremes. The one thing everyone agrees on is the crimes have nothing to do with money. The thieves could have stolen thousands of items from the museums worth much more than the unusual artifacts.”

  “Agreed. Zara’s got more money than most small countries. I just find it difficult to believe a bunch of clear objects possess the ability to create a destructive force worth murdering innocent people over.”

  “Depending on how the crystal is cut, the vibrations can produce harmonic or non-harmonic overtones. Harmonic overtones are desirable in the production of high-frequency crystal resonators, but non-harmonic signals are unstable and more difficult to control. My colleagues are trying to determine if the configuration etched on the lid could help multiply the vibrations as the pulses move from crystal to crystal, increasing the frequency and intensity until we end up with a powerful and unstable reaction.”

  “What’s this stairway-like structure the heads are aligned on?”

  “I’m thinking it must be made of some material that concentrates incoming energy and transmits the resulting product to directed locations.”

  Cash wasn’t sure if he followed Pete’s line of reasoning, and the information didn’t affect their next move. He simply needed to catch Zara and get the artifacts back. Once she was dealt with, and the relics secured, the scientists could experiment to their heart’s content. He had no intention of testing any of Pete’s theories in the field, but knowledge often equated to power, so figuring out the use of the relics might help them determine a motive for Zara’s madness and enable them to predict her next move.

  “If we had all the heads, we could probably ascertain the sequence needed to multiply the vibrations through trial and error, but without the actual crystals, it’s just guess work, and if the platform they’re resting on is the key, then we’re shooting in the dark. My co-workers have conducted experiments with other crystals with disappointing results. I’ll transmit a photo of this drawing and have them give the configuration a try. I suppose it’s also possible the precise composition of these crystals possesses some additional properties we haven’t identified. Until Marjorie showed up, we didn’t actually have one to test, and were relying on outside analyses done many years ago by skeptical scientists. If the material is just regular old natural occurring quartz crystal, then whoever crafted the relics must have figured out the precise way to cut the stone and the exact size and shape needed along with the arrangement necessary to multiply the effects. But the thought is simply incomprehensible with ancient technology.”

  “And, you think this might be the magic sequence?” Cash asked as he laid the drawing back down on the table in front of Pete.

  “Sure. If the ancients left us a map as to the locations of the relics as Marjorie suggested, why not leave instructions on how to use them? Marjorie’s theory is what got me to thinking in the middle of the night.”

  “Did Zara see the etching on the lid?”

  “I don’t think so. After I looked at diagram, I placed the lid face down and was about ready to remove the relic from the box when she came through the tunnel. I didn’t see her touch the lid, but I suppose it’s possible she looked after I fell through the trap door, though I doubt it, since she didn’t take the etching with her. The CIA sent agents back to the cavern and everything was just as I described. The Bahamian authorities have the gold box, so I’m sure we could get a photo, but this sketch is very close to what I saw. The scene will be engraved in my mind forever.”

  Cash studied Pete’s drawing again, and it did make some sense. He had seen photographs of the museum artifacts, Pete had described the Bimini crystal in detail, and he had held the Mexico and Argentinean relics. Each was unique in size, shape, and characteristics, just like the ones in the drawing. In Pete’s sketch, two of the skulls had shaded eyes, which might represent the blue surrounding the Mexico head’s eyes, and the green Pete reported around the eye sockets on the Bimini artifact.

  “What have you got there, Dr. Frankenstein?” Diane asked as she and Marjorie emerged from the kitchen, cradling cups of coffee.

  Cash handed the drawing to Diane and let Pete explain. His mind recounted everything they knew for certain, which wasn’t much. They had been trying to hunt down the artifacts through the obvious route and hadn’t directly pursued Zara and her group. He now realized the mistake.

  “We gotta get out of here,” he said.

  “To the church?” Marjorie asked.

  “No. We need to leave the country and head somewhere as far away from any crystal relic as possible.”

  His teammates stared at him with confusion.

  “All we’ve done is lead Zara to the relics, and to date, she’s come out on top. If we go looking for the Cusco artifact, judging from our success rate so far, it’s like practically handing her the prize on a silver platter. I say we head to some bogus location, make sure she finds out, and entice her into a trap of our design somewhere far away, so if we screw up again, we don’t risk another crystal falling into her psychotic hands, or more innocent civilians dying in the quest.”

  “It’d be easy to tip her off,” Pete added. “We’re still feeding noise into the bugs we found in Olivia’s house. We can allow the listening devices to pick up a staged phone call to Olivia, telling her where we’re heading.”

  “The idea makes sense, but as an archeologist, I hate walking away. I want to find the last relic and we’re so close I can almost feel the cool, smooth surface in my hands.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll come back once Zara is behind bars, or better yet, dead,” Cash stated.

  “And in the meantime?” Marjorie asked.

  “We’ll stick together and try not to do anything that will tip Zara off to our trap.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  October 2, 10:00 A.M.

  Sedona, Arizona

  OLIVIA READ THE words on her computer screen for a third time. The message received late the previous evening from Sultan of Rum stated he would be in town and wanted to meet her for lunch. He claimed to have discovered the whereabouts of the final relic, but wasn’t comfortable sending the information over the Internet or discussing his findings over the phone. What scared Olivia the most was she had never mentioned where she lived, but the fact he knew didn’t really surprise her.

  Sultan of Rum was no Jamaican party boy. According to Cash, her email pal was a Turkish physicist who authorities had tracked from Turkey to Afghanistan. Then he had vanished from their radar. Apparently, he was about to reappear, and knowing he was so close, and Cash was so far away, terrified her.

  She wanted to talk to Cash, but she had no idea how to contact him, and she didn’t want to scare Diane. For lack of a better option, she punched in the secure number to the agents assigned to protect her and explained the contents of the message. They told her to hold tight until they got back to her with instructions.

  Olivia sat on her sofa running her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t wanted to go to Peru with Cash and Diane, nor did she think they would have let her, but at the moment, she yearned to be anywhere else in the world besides her own living room. Glancing between the phone and her computer, she wished one would ring and the other never existed.

  Only five minutes had elapsed since she last spoke to the agents, but it felt like hours. Olivia nearly jumped off the sofa when the phone rang. The agents told her to arrange the lunch meeting. They had already installed a tracking device on her car and planned to follow her to the rendezvous point and nab Mustafa.

  Olivia’s fingers trembled as she typed a response to Sultan. She offered up the time and directions to the restaurant the agents pr
ovided. The thought of meeting the man face-to-face frightened her, but she didn’t see much choice. With everything Cash and Diane revealed about the group seeking the crystals, and after witnessing Ian’s horrifying death, Olivia felt obligated to do whatever she could to help end the madness.

  Her mind wandered to Ian. In the short time they spent together, she had grown very fond of him. His accent, sensible perspective on everything, and his interesting sense of humor had been a calming force during the tense times. Ian gave his life to protect all of them, and she owed him the same selflessness.

  She then thought of Diane and prayed her sister remained safe. Olivia never realized before the level of danger inherent in Diane’s job and never gave her the credit she deserved. Diane chose a life of public service, trying to make the world a safer place for the innocent. But instead of telling her how proud she was, she subtly jabbed Diane about turning her back on her heritage.

  Olivia’s thoughts finally honed in on Cash. She had tried not to think about him after he left, unable to sort out her feelings. When he kissed her, it was possible to forget about the killing, his reputation with women, and his risky job. She felt safe in his arms, which struck her as odd, since she had experienced nothing but danger from the moment he walked through her door and into her life.

  Diane’s constant reminders of his womanizing made her nervous. Olivia didn’t believe he was as bad as Diane claimed, since her sister was prone to exaggeration. She refused to accept he could be that shallow, but rather unintentionally sought relationships which didn’t go anywhere to shield himself from responsibility and pain. No matter how many times Olivia warned herself to stay away from Cash, if for no other reason than his job, she feared it was already too late. In Cash’s arms she felt wanted, needed, cherished, and protected, unlike now, when she just felt scared and alone.

  Olivia changed her clothes, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed for her car. She backed out of the garage and drove to the gas station, even though her tank read three-quarters full. She topped off with fuel and went inside to pay before entering the restroom and locking the door. As planned, an agent waited in one of the stalls to fit her with a listening device and a GPS tracker, extra precautions, they claimed.

  With the tiny technology in place, she left the station as calmly as possible, with her heart racing out of control. Olivia checked her watch and noted she was right on schedule for her meeting, so she continued to drive at a speed that kept the agents’ truck two vehicle lengths behind her.

  She parked across the street from the busy upscale café and got out. Trying not to cast an obvious look around for her security, she turned back to the car and leaned in for her jacket while glancing at the traffic. She watched their vehicle approach and squeeze into a spot a half a block away, and she let out a sigh of relief.

  When Olivia entered the café, it seemed as if every patron tracked her movements. She doubted anyone even noticed her, but the sense of being studied as she scanned the room for Sultan persisted. He said he would be wearing tan pants, a navy-colored sweater, and glasses. No one in the café met the description. Olivia was ashamed of her weakness, but admitted she had secretly hoped he wouldn’t show. Per the instructions from the agents, she took a seat at a table near the window and tried to project a calm casual air, despite her racing pulse rate.

  “May I take your order, or are you waiting for someone?”

  Olivia realized she didn’t have her anxiety as under control as she thought, nearly jumping out of her seat when the waiter approached her table.

  “I’ll have an iced tea, but I’ll wait to order lunch until my friend gets here,” she replied, forcing a smile to her lips.

  After fifteen minutes, she paid her bill and left, relieved by Sultan’s no-show. Olivia found comfort in the quick glimpses of the agent’s silver truck in her rearview mirror as she made her way home. As she drove into the garage and watched the door slowly close behind her, removing the agent’s comforting presence from her sight, goose bumps spread over her skin and she shuddered.

  Inside her home, Olivia opened her hallway closet, reaching for a coat hanger. Her outstretched arm froze as the heat emanating off a body close behind engulfed her. She wanted to turn around and prove her imagination was just running wild, but fear rendered her unable to move. How stupid. With the agents tailing her to a now obviously bogus rendezvous, no one remained to maintain surveillance on her house, and breaking in through the sliding glass doors of the sunroom unnoticed would be child’s play for a professional criminal.

  “Take off the wire, Olivia,” the man whispered into her ear.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stuttered.

  “I hate liars. You will have to be punished.”

  She eased around to face the intruder. Before she could scream out for help, or get a glimpse of him, a hand slammed across her cheek, the force of the blow knocking her to the floor. Her head struck the tile, and all went black.

  The man located the wire and tracker and destroyed both.

  “What a shame to strike such a beautiful face,” he said as he hoisted Olivia’s limp body over his shoulder and made his way to the back of the house and out the unsecured door he had entered through.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  October 2, 2:00 P.M.

  Cusco, Peru

  “ANYTHING YET?” CASH asked Pete for the fourth time in the past hour. He couldn’t understand the long delay. He had conveyed instructions to the CIA. All they needed to do was tell Olivia what to say when Diane phoned. The bugs would transmit the new location directly to Zara—a simple plan, so why hadn’t they called to verify everything was set so Diane could make the call?

  Cash couldn’t stand the wait any longer, and his intuition screamed out that Olivia needed him. “I’m calling to find out what’s holding us up. I’m tired of waiting around.”

  He turned his back and paced toward the window, unable to bear Diane’s worried expression. Once connected, he listened to the agent on the other end of the line. Fear and rage filled his mind. He hadn’t wanted to trust Olivia’s safety to anyone else, and he should have trusted his gut.

  “Well?” Diane demanded the moment he hung up.

  “She’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

  Cash relayed the information about the message from Sultan of Rum and the no-show meeting. The agents hadn’t realized she was missing until they went to set up the staged phone call. Her car never left the garage, and the only things out of place were an unlocked sliding glass door, a hanger on the floor, and the wire and tracker she had been wearing crushed and floating in the toilet.

  “What were they thinking? Sending her out wired to meet a madman?” Diane ranted. “Someone’s going to pay for this, and if anyone lays a finger on my sister, I’ll…”

  The rest of Diane’s words faded off as Cash pulled her to him. He understood her anger and panic. At the moment, he wasn’t sure who he wanted to hurt more—the person who nabbed Olivia, whoever authorized the meeting with Sultan, or the agents who he had trusted with her safety.

  After Diane’s trembling waned, Cash gently eased her back. “We’ve got to remain calm, sensible, and professional. Zara isn’t going to hurt her until she gets what she wants. I’m sure she kidnapped Olivia in order to bargain with us, and we have to wait for her demands. We’ll get your sister back. I promise. But, if you can’t put your emotions aside and act rationally, I’ll send you home to Virginia on the next plane. Flying off the handle will get us all killed. I don’t want to lose you or Olivia. Trust me.”

  Diane wanted to slug Cash, but she acknowledged the wisdom in his words, and she was beginning to believe he truly cared for Olivia. The only way to ensure Olivia’s safe return was to think with her head, not her heart. Any rash action could be deadly, and she would do whatever necessary to remain focused and save her sister.

  She inhaled several deep breaths to steady her nerves and her eyes bore
into his. “I’m not going anywhere until Olivia is safe,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I will be the utmost professional. You don’t have to worry about me, but you might give the idiots charged with protecting her a heads-up that I’ll be coming for them when this is over.”

  “You’ll have to get in line behind me,” he growled.

  Cash hoped she truly had the strength to put her personal feelings aside. He wouldn’t push Diane on the issue further, since he knew it would be a struggle to keep his own emotions in check. The thought of Zara or any of her men touching Olivia made him want to destroy something. For Diane’s sake, he resisted the urge to rip the lamp’s plug out of the wall and hurl it across the room. Much worse than the rage was the aura of helplessness and fear surrounding him while forced to wait for Zara’s next move. He had never experienced such all-encompassing terror, not even during the hundreds of close calls on his life throughout his career. The emotion felt foreign and he fought to push the images of Olivia out of his mind and focus only on bringing Zara down.

  “How will Zara get a hold of us?” Diane asked.

  “She’ll find a way.”

  No sooner had he uttered the words than his cell phone rang. “Diego,” he mouthed to the group. Cash listened, nodded, hung up, and turned toward everyone staring at him.

  “Diego received a nice bouquet of roses today in the hospital. You’ll be interested to hear the card’s message.”

  “Well, I imagine I can guess the sender’s identity,” Diane stated as he shook her head, realizing Cash had been right. Going through Diego had been an ingenious method of tracking them down. “I just hope we’re smarter, quicker, and more determined than the crazy woman who holds Olivia’s fate in her hands.”