Shrouded in Secrets

by Kim McMahill

  Olivia closed her eyes and struggled to control her emotions. Her show of compassion for a man she was beginning to care deeply about had made matters worse. She refused to let Zara understand how much the idea of Cash being tortured pained her. The woman obviously derived great pleasure in watching people suffer.

  “Cash cares only as much for me as he would any defenseless civilian being unnecessarily abused, since he apparently has more of a conscience than you. He seems like a nice man, and I don’t want to see him, or any of God’s creatures, suffer at the hands of a lunatic. I must confess that we just met, and I really don’t know him all that well, so you may not derive as much pleasure as you think from your sadistic plan.”

  “Nice try. Neither one of you possess a passable poker face when it comes to your feelings for each other. You should have seen him struggle to conceal his rage when I told him Mustafa had bruised your lovely face. I thought he might lose his temper. Lucky for you, he remembered that I always leave instructions to kill the hostage in the unlikely event I don’t return. It was most enjoyable to push him to the point of violence and watch him strain to control the urge to slit my throat, knowing if he lashed out at me, my men would extract revenge on you tenfold.”

  Olivia shrugged her shoulders and said nothing else, realizing the danger in divulging any information which could be used against them.

  “Zara, Heinrich is on the cell,” Mustafa stated.

  Zara strolled over to Mustafa and grabbed the phone out of his hand. The conversation was too quiet to reach Olivia’s ears. Relief at being rid of Zara’s close proximity washed over her. She wiggled her hands, hoping to restore feeling in her fingers, and the rope binding her wrists slackened. Unsure if it would be possible to loosen the knot enough to get free, she stilled, determined to try, as soon as she was alone. She refused to allow Cash or her sister to exchange their lives for her without at least trying to save herself. Despite her usually forgiving and gentle nature, the desire to see Zara suffer, as she had made so many others endure, began to creep into Olivia’s mind.

  The call ended and Zara strode out of the room without a glance back at Olivia. Mustafa bolted to his feet and followed her like an obedient puppy. Olivia exhaled and tried to relax her muscles and focus on the rope securing her hands. She twisted her wrists until she could wedge her pinkie into the knot. The more she wiggled her wrists, the further she was able to insert a long, slender finger into the center, loosening the tie, but scouring her skin raw and drawing blood in the process.

  The door opened and Mustafa reentered the room. Olivia stilled as he walked toward her. He stopped and knelt down in front of her, so close she could feel the heat from his body. Olivia looked into his eyes, trying to show as little emotion as possible, fearing he would discover what she had been attempting to do.

  He brought a small glass of water to her lips. She tilted her head back slightly and drank. Although she feared the possibility of being drugged or poisoned, she hadn’t had anything to drink since leaving her country, and her throat ached from dryness. Besides, she doubted they would kill her until they got what they wanted.

  “Good girl,” he said as he used his thumb to wipe the water that ran down her lip and chin.

  Olivia flinched at the unwelcome touch. Mustafa stood and took a step back. He cocked his head and glared at her with an amused expression, studying her with intensity like she had never experienced before.

  A trickle of fluid ran down Olivia’s hand and fear coursed through her body. She tried to lift her hands to slow the flow, but it was too late. Following Mustafa’s gaze, she knew by the change in his expression from amusement to pure rage that blood, not sweat, had hit the floor.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  October 3, 8:00 P.M.

  Cusco, Peru

  CASH WAITED AT the bottom of the stone steps for the rest of the group, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the blackness of the subterranean corridor. Their small headlamps barely pierced the inky tunnels, making each step hazardous.

  “Is everyone here?”

  Various grunts and groans indicated all were accounted for and ready to proceed. Cash took the lead, stooped over to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling, and began the slow penetration of the damp passageway. After about fifteen minutes, Cash stopped.

  “Does it feel like we’re gradually going uphill to anyone else?”

  “I kind of thought so, since I was getting a bit winded,” Diane stated, “but I attributed my difficulty breathing with the elevation of Cusco.”

  “Maybe this tunnel leads back to the surface. I’d love to get out of this confinement and take a breath of fresh air,” Pete added.

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out. Let’s keep moving.” Cash turned and resumed walking.

  After another ten minutes, they emerged into an open cavern with a high ceiling. They stood side by side, gazing at the scene visible in the dim light of their four small headlamps. The chamber was about half the size of a football field and dotted with irregular-shaped rock formations standing like remnant chimneys of burnt-down homes. The rough stone pillars appeared natural and were webbed with black and gold colored veins. But the feature dominating the cavern grabbed their attention.

  “Oh my God,” Marjorie and Pete gasped in unison.

  A shallow pond glistened in front of them, filled with a liquid substance that emitted an unusual and unfamiliar odor. A massive solid crystal column stood in the center of the pond, reaching nearly to the top of the chamber. Twelve stair-like platforms with saucer-shaped hollows were gouged out of the pillar as it ascended toward the ceiling of the cavern. The first stair step rested below the liquid level, and each progressive step narrowed until reaching the highest platform. At the apex, a crystal head larger than any the group had seen so far, nearly the size of a beach ball, glowered down on them with deeply carved eye sockets and what appeared to be a movable jaw.

  “It’s Ten,” Marjorie whispered in reverent awe as her gaze froze on the massive object at the top of the pillar.

  For several moments everyone watched Marjorie as she stared in transfixed amazement at the magnificent sculpture, none grasping the significance.

  “Ten what?” Pete finally asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Sorry. The sculpture at the top represents the head-variant number ten. In Mayan legend, this number symbolizes the deity of the upper world associated with devastation, desertion, and the end of an epoch of humanity. It is thought to be the supreme god of death. To the Mayans, this isn’t necessarily a morbid or frightening thing. The god, Ten, denotes the transition from the world we inhabit to that of gods and our ancestors, like the Christians’ Heaven. Ten was believed to possess the power to transport humans to a higher level of consciousness, allowing mortals to see the past and the future.”

  “Why is it here, perched on a massive pedestal, and why is this head so much larger than the rest we’ve seen?” Pete asked.

  “Because it’s the most powerful, and it symbolizes potential cataclysmic annihilation. Once the other crystals are placed in their appropriate places and the catalyst introduced, the result is no doubt the event Zara seeksmassive destruction, possibly the end.”

  As Cash moved his light around the room, trying not to land directly on the crystal, the beam came to rest on the ceiling above the pillar. A clear outline of what appeared to be an opening was delineated.

  “Well, Pete, as far as we’ve climbed upward, I’d bet if we opened that panel, we’d get your desired breath of fresh air and a source of light. And, if we could determine which relic should be placed in the depressions gouged into each step, we would have the pattern you sketched.”

  “Yes, it’s identical to the diagram etched on the underside of the gold box’s lid I saw in Bimini, only this scene is real, but missing twelve of the thirteen heads, and all of those, except one, is in the hands of an insane woman,” Pete respond, stunned by the spectacle in front of him. The smells assailed his s
enses and the story Marjorie just conveyed made him shudder. In order to get Olivia back alive, they would have to share this secret with Zara, and if they handed over the Argentinean crystal, she would possess everything she needed to test the legend of destruction.

  Cash waded cautiously into the pool. The substance was translucent and seemed to magnify his feet as he stared down on them. He scooped up a handful of liquid and took a whiff.

  “It smells like something flammable, and it’s got a soft, almost slick texture.”

  “Now that I think about it, I detected the same odor in the tunnels of Bimini too,” Pete added.

  Cash paused and looked at Pete for a moment before pressing on. The liquid only came up to mid-thigh, yet his whole body tingled. The fluid was cold, but he doubted the temperature had anything to do with the odd vibrating sensation which increased the closer he got to the crystal pillar.

  Cash touched the column and the surface was much warmer than the liquid in the pool. He knelt on the second step and then began to climb toward the massive carved eyes looking down on him from above. Once at the top, he covered his light with his shirttail to dim the beam and examined the magnificent carving.

  “The head can’t be removed. It and the pillar are one solid piece of crystal,” he yelled down to the group.

  “What’ll we do?” Diane asked. “If you don’t meet Zara at midnight with the last two relics, she’ll kill Olivia.”

  The problem was apparent and Cash didn’t need Diane pointing out the quandary. He hated the idea of Olivia being at Zara’s mercy, since Zara didn’t possess a merciful bone in her body and she seldom accepted excuses, even valid ones. This only made everything more complicated.

  “We don’t have much choice. This head isn’t budging. I’ll tell her the truth and hope she believes me.”

  “Can we get out the opening in the ceiling?” Pete asked.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to try. Even though it’s nighttime, we have no idea what lies above. We could emerge into a vulnerable situation, or maybe an artificial light source exists which could trigger an unwanted reaction with the crystal and the liquid, whatever that might be. I vote for backtracking out of here. At least that way we know what to expect.”

  “We need to leave soon to avoid being late for the meeting with Zara,” Diane added.

  Cash agreed. He climbed down the pillar’s steps, waded back across the pond, and crawled out of the unusual fluid which burned his skin.

  “I imagine it won’t work, but did you try to get coordinates?” he asked Pete.

  “The crystal crashed all my electronics,” Pete replied as he stowed his GPS unit and the digital camera he had hoped to use to take a photograph of the structure.

  “I figured as much. I guess we better go.”

  “Wait,” Marjorie stated. “Zara isn’t expecting anyone but you, so why don’t Pete and I stay here? Maybe we can figure out what all this is and how it’s supposed to be used. If Zara didn’t see the lid in Bimini, Pete knows more than she does. Also, if she hasn’t figured out by now that the relics represent numbers, we might have another advantage. I bet the heads are lined up in some sort of mathematical arrangement. Clearly the order is not simply numeric, since Ten is at the top.”

  Marjorie sensed that Pete liked the idea by the way his face lit up. Even though they worked in drastically different fields, he was a scientist, so his curiosity had to be gnawing at him. If he was anything like her, the thought of leaving such an unusual and mysterious find without investigating further would kill him.

  “The only way to prove I’m telling the truth and save Olivia’s life will require bringing Zara here to verify my story,” Cash stated.

  “You’re supposed to meet her at midnight, so you probably won’t return until at about 12:30, and I promise we’ll be nowhere in sight by then.”

  “We’d have more leverage if we discovered how to use the relics, the pond, and the pillar. Just be sure to vanish before I get back with Zara.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve tangled with her enough for a lifetime,” Pete replied. “If I never see those green eyes again, it’ll still be too soon.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  October 4, 12:01 A.M.

  Cusco, Peru

  CASH HAD A DIFFICULT time convincing Diane she couldn’t come with him. Zara expected him to be alone, and he needed Diane to watch his back since he was certain Zara would have people covering hers. Eventually, she relented and he entered the tavern alone.

  “Either the relics are tiny, or you aren’t as hung up on the lovely Olivia as Heinrich thought,” Zara said as she sat at the table across from Cash. “I expected you to be burdened down with crystal.”

  “Even if I had both, do you think I would be stupid enough to walk in here and hand them over? First, you’d instruct Heinrich, or whoever’s watching us to put a bullet in my back, and then you’d simply place a call and order Olivia’s murder.”

  “You do know me well.” She smiled. “So, how are we going to make this happen? Because if I don’t like what I hear in the next few minutes, the scenario you explained will occur sooner than you anticipated.”

  Cash leaned back in his chair and stared at Zara. He detected no hint of warmth behind her mesmerizing eyes. He wondered if she had always been so cold and heartless, and he had been too blind and naïve to see it, or if she had lost what little compassion she once possessed when he left her for dead.

  “Her time is running out,” Zara stated, interrupting his thoughts.

  Cash hoped Diane would keep her composure and stick to the plan. He needed her to protect his back and try to ascertain how many people Zara had with her.

  “I found the Cusco crystal.” He studied Zara’s face. She showed no emotion, so he continued. “The problem is that there’s no way to move the massive object.”

  “Nothing is impossible,” she insisted.

  “This is with the time you gave me and the tools I had on hand. The relic is sitting on a pillar about fifteen feet high, and the head and column appear to be carved from a single piece of crystal.”

  “Assuming you’re telling the truth, where is the last one?”

  “Do you think I’m crazy enough to tell you without something in exchange? I figured I would have to escort you to the pillar to prove my claim. If you already had twelve of the thirteen, how would I ensure Olivia’s release?”

  A crooked smile eased across Zara’s lips as she motioned for a waiter without removing her eyes from Cash.

  “So, here’s the deal. I lead you, and only you, to the mother lode. Once you’ve verified I’m telling the truth, we’ll arrange the swap of the final relic for Olivia. How you pry the crystal head from the pillar is your business.”

  The waiter placed two mugs of chicha on the table and hurried off. They both knew the plan wouldn’t unfold as outlined. Cash had no intention of walking away and allowing Zara to do as she wished with the artifacts, and he doubted Zara intended to let him live or release Olivia, but they agreed on the basic premise.

  “Shall we?” Zara asked as she tilted her head back, downed the rest of her drink, and slammed her glass on the table.

  Cash stood and led Zara from the tavern without further discussion. The hike to the subterranean chamber housing the final relic took half as long as the prior trip, since Cash now knew the way and all the hazards to avoid. Once they reached their destination, Cash focused on Zara, trying to gauge her reaction. If she was impressed by the amazing scene of a fifteen-foot high crystal pillar supporting a giant head with a movable jaw at its top, and steps cascading down into a shimmering pool of mysterious fluid in a massive cave, she didn’t show it. If anything, she seemed disappointed. She dipped her finger into the pond and smelled the liquid, nodded to Cash, and retraced their path through the subterranean corridors.

  They sat on the steps of the Church of Santo Domingo, the city deserted, the night cool and dark. Cash wasn’t sure if he was comforted or nervous about his
team’s lack of presence. Marjorie and Pete were nowhere to be seen in the cavern, and he hadn’t even garnered so much as a glimpse of Diane since leaving her to meet up with Zara at midnight. He hoped they were sticking to the plan and hadn’t run into trouble with Zara’s people.

  “How quickly can you produce the final Argentine relic?” Zara asked, breaking the silence.

  “As soon you bring me Olivia.”

  “What do you suppose that liquid is?”

  “Not a clue. The stuff smells like, and has the texture of, an oil-based substance, but the whole pond is uniform. I waded through the pool and the fluid burned my skin, not too bad, but it’s clearly somewhat corrosive.”

  “I wish Mustafa was here. I would love to hear his theory on the pillar’s use and the liquid’s composition, but I suppose the discovery doesn’t alter our next step. I want the final crystal and you want Olivia.”

  The way Zara said “want” made Cash glance up. He couldn’t tell if the tone tainting her voice indicated sadness, anger, or jealousy.

  “No more innocent people need to die in your quest. What do you hope to gain? You’re not out for money and surely you don’t believe any of the legends claiming the relics possess incalculable knowledge and power when brought together? You’ve always been the logical type.”

  “I want revenge.”

  “Then just shoot me now, if my death will end this madness, but leave everyone else alone.”

  He wanted to ask her how she could possibly think she was the one who had been betrayed. She worked as a double agent, and he was just doing his job. Reasoning with Zara would be pointless. If she believed she was the victim, nothing he could ever do or say would change her mind.

  “It’s not always about you. You betrayed me, but I have more important matters to settle. And, of course, there is the power the relics will bring to me.”