Kidnap & Ransom

by Michelle Gagnon

  Syd vanished behind a tree. He followed, almost slamming into her when she stopped dead.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she commented, pushing him back with one hand.

  “Why are we stopping?”

  “Because I don’t think they’re following us anymore.”

  Jake listened. Gunfire still crackled below them. “I still hear it.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not close.” She cocked her head to the side. “Sounds like it’s coming from the far side of camp.”

  Mark suddenly passed the tree. Syd let out a low whistle. He spun in his tracks and spotted them. “Decker and Brown are headed back to base to regroup,” he said. “We should join them.”

  “I don’t know if we have time. Listen.”

  Mark’s eyebrows knit together. “Crap,” he said. “The other cartel.”

  “They probably heard the gunfire, figured that was their cue to start the raid,” Syd said.

  “I’ll call Brown on the radio,” Mark said, pulling it off his belt. “We better get in there now if we want to save anything but corpses.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Flores was in the back of the pen, working away at the chicken wire with the knife when the firing started. He’d initially tried to dig down to where the wire was inserted in the soil, but whoever constructed their cage did an annoyingly good job of it. Two feet down and he’d still encountered nothing but wire mesh. The only way out was to slice through, separating the wires one by one, which was extremely time-consuming. Three hours in, and he’d only managed to separate four wires in a straight line. His hands were a bloody mess from rubbing against the sharp edges.

  At the first burst of gunfire, he froze. Was Tyr coming for them? Or had the unit been discovered?

  “What’s going on?” he asked. Calderon had the side of his face pressed against the bars, trying to see down the line of cages.

  “No sé,” he replied. In the neighboring cage Tejada suddenly started hacking. “Silencio, Ramon!” Calderon snapped.

  Tejada’s shoulders shook, but he kept his mouth closed as he coughed.

  “Why aren’t they coming?” Calderon sounded puzzled. “In the drills, they always come within a minute or two.”

  “Maybe the general isn’t sticking by his word,” Flores said. “Could be he decided to use this as a cover to kill us.”

  Calderon snorted. “Don’t kid yourself, amigo. He can shoot us whenever he wants. No, this is something different.”

  “Whatever it is, we gotta get a move on.” Determined, Flores went back to the task at hand. A pair of white eyes shone from his left, regarding his handiwork.

  “Take me with you,” Tejada begged. “Please, or they will kill me.”

  “Absolutamente,” Flores lied. The truth was, he’d be lucky to get himself and Calderon out of here in one piece. He sawed away, and another set of wires split. Flores pried them apart with his fingers, then started on the next one down.

  “All right, here it is.” Rodriguez tapped at the keyboard one-handed while holding a taco in the other. A trail of salsa dribbled down his chin.

  They were ensconced in a restaurant a few blocks from their hotel in the Chapultepec-Lomas district. The area was decidedly more upscale than the other sections of Mexico City Kelly had seen so far. The few cars passing by at this late hour were mostly foreign-made, Toyotas with a few Lexuses and Mercedes scattered in between. The streets were cleaner, and even the smog seemed less pervasive. In spite of that, Danny had declared three other restaurants too sketchy before settling on this one. Part of a hotel bar, their meal even came complete with a free wireless connection.

  “Man, this is good,” Rodriguez said appreciatively, holding back the taco to eye it. “Just like Momma used to make.”

  Kelly had only managed a few bites of her enchilada. She was itching to find a lead to pursue, keenly aware of Stefan’s trail fading by the minute. By now, he might even have snatched another victim. “You were saying?” she asked impatiently.

  “The guy who wrote the book has a website with more information. Xipe Totec, aka ‘our lord the flayed one,’ was a life-death-rebirth deity. He’s usually represented wearing a flayed human skin. The flayed skins of sacrificed victims were believed to have curative properties when touched. Mothers even took their children to handle such skins in order to relieve their ailments.” Rodriguez made a face and set his half-eaten taco back down on his plate. “So much for dinner.”

  “What else does it say?”

  “Xipe Totec flayed himself to give food to humanity. It was supposed to be symbolic of the way maize seeds lose their outer layer before germination. After twenty days the priests took off the skins and placed them in caves. Must have been pretty ripe by then.”

  “What about the sacrifice, and the pyramid?”

  Rodriguez continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “There’s an Aztec calendar here with each deity and what kind of sacrifice they got. To kick off the New Year on February 2, they committed mass drownings. Next month, the flaying, then victims were shot with arrows and had their hearts yanked out while they were still alive…it says here that in 1487, the Aztecs sacrificed eighty thousand prisoners over the course of four days. That’s insane. How was anyone left?”

  “The temple, Rodriguez.”

  “Right. Okay, sacrifices to Xipe Totec were made during the month of Tlacaxipehualiztli, starting around March 6.” He looked up. “That’s over a month away, so Stefan’s timing was off.”

  “Unless he was just practicing,” Kelly said grimly.

  Rodriguez shuddered. “Makes me appreciate Catholicism.”

  Kelly read over his shoulder. “It says Xipe Totec was associated with the Great Pyramid of Tenochtitlán. Where’s that? Is it still around?”

  “Holy crap,” Rodriguez said. “Jones, it’s right here. The Aztec city of Tenochtitlán was built on an island in Lake Texcoco, the site of present-day Mexico City.”

  Jake smeared some more mud on his face. Under close inspection it would never hold up, but he was hoping that from a few feet away, in the dark, a Zeta guard would be fooled.

  “Nice,” Syd said.

  “You’re not going to do the same?” he asked, eyeing her.

  Aside from tucking her blond hair under a cap and dressing in camo, Syd hadn’t done anything to alter her appearance. “No reason to bother,” she said. “I doubt there are any female guards down there. The Zetas aren’t known for their forward-thinking gender policies. If I get spotted, they’ll shoot me whether I’ve got crap on my face or not.”

  She had a point, Jake thought, taking her in. Even in the somewhat loose-fitting camouflage, she was obviously female. “Don’t worry about me, champ. I’ll be fine.” She winked at his look of concern.

  As always, Syd was never in a better mood than at the outset of an extraordinarily dangerous operation. Jake wished he could share her enthusiasm. They were about to go up against highly trained mercenaries, while trying to avoid the other mercenaries shooting at everything in sight. They had to penetrate to where the hostages were being held, in the middle of what sounded like the final stand at the Alamo.

  And that was the easy part. Somehow, they had to get back out.

  Kane and Maltz still hadn’t made it back from town, so they were forced to rely almost exclusively on a bunch of guys from a competing company, who so far hadn’t impressed Jake with their level of skill. All things considered, he would have preferred stepping into an active volcano. The odds of survival were probably roughly the same.

  Another rocket flared across the sky above camp. Jake watched its flickering descent. Sputters of automatic gunfire below them, a deafening cacophony that lit up the night like sparklers. The bulk of the fighting was centered on the south side of camp.

  Mark came to stand beside them. “We’re infiltrating in teams of three. Brown and his guys are going after Calderon and Flores. Decker and I will cover them, then we’ll try to find Isabela’s father.”


  “We never got a lock on his location,” Syd protested.

  “I know. But I promised I’d try.”

  “Where do you want us?” Jake asked.

  Mark turned to look at him. “I’d feel better if you covered us from here.”

  “Bullshit,” Syd said.

  “Syd, you’re a walking target in there. And Jake, we both know this isn’t your sort of thing.”

  “You can’t go in there without someone watching your back,” Jake argued.

  “It’s not a put-down. I just don’t think—”

  “I can handle myself. And you said you can’t trust these Tyr guys. They might put a bullet in your back just because they can.”

  Mark looked ready to argue the point, but he was interrupted by Brown’s voice crackling out of his radio. “In position. We’re a go in two.”

  “Roger that. Heading for the east gate.” Mark clicked off. He examined Jake for a long moment before saying, “Fine, you’re on with me and Decker. Syd, hang back with the sniper rifle. We’re going to need a good shot to help us on the way out.”

  Syd nodded curtly. Jake was about to walk away when she abruptly threw her arms around him. “Take care of yourself, partner.”

  “Always.” He gently eased her off, then followed Mark down toward the camp.

  Twenty-Nine

  “So we just need to find out where that temple used to be located,” Kelly said.

  “Maybe.” Rodriguez scrolled through the site. “Although it says similar sacrifices were made in other Aztec cities like Tlatelolco, Xochimilco and Texcoco.”

  “Stefan was focused on Tenochtitlán,” Kelly said, shaking her head. “That’s why he came here in the first place. Admit it,” she said with a grin. “This feels right to you.”

  “You know—” he examined her “—that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since…well, you know.”

  Kelly’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

  “I just meant—”

  “It’s okay,” Kelly said quickly. “I know. And I’m really sorry that I missed your wedding. Truly.”

  Rodriguez shrugged, but his cheeks were pink. “No problem. It was hectic, anyway—three hundred people screaming at each other in Spanish. You would have been miserable.”

  “You kidding? That’s practically my second language now.” Kelly smiled again, and Rodriguez grinned back. “So let’s find out where this temple used to be.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like we won’t be sleeping tonight,” Rodriguez grumbled. But he typed some words into the search engine. “Here’s something. ‘An island city, five miles square, Tenochtitlán was surrounded by Lake Texcoco. Three causeways led into the city. Canals were used as streets and people traveled everywhere by canoe. With palaces, gardens, fountains, aqueducts and sewage collection on large barges for use as fertilizer, Tenochtitlán was more advanced than any city in Europe. Looming over it all was a great pyramid with bloodstained temples on top.’”

  “Does it say where the pyramid was located?”

  “I’m working on it.” He hit a few more keys, and a large topographic map materialized onscreen. “Says here that maps of Tenochtitlán are only accurate to a certain point—most of them come from archaeological exploration and Spanish records. But this is a mock-up of the ancient city.” Kelly leaned in. The map was scrawled on old parchment, squiggly black lines delineating streets and houses. “After the conquest of the Spaniards, the Great Pyramid of Tenochtitlán was mostly destroyed. It was located dead center in the city.”

  “That sounds easy,” Kelly said.

  “Not exactly. We’ve got to find out what the original borders of Tenochtitlán were. If I were back at the office, we could print out an overlay…”

  “No time,” Kelly said. “Keep digging.”

  Rodriguez blew out hard, making it clear he wasn’t enjoying himself.

  “I can take over if you want,” she offered.

  “No, it’s fine. Wait…here we go.” Another page popped up. This one had a photograph of an archaeological site.

  Kelly read aloud, “‘More than four hundred years later the base of the pyramid was found during rebuilding after major earthquakes. The dig has gone on since 1978. The pyramid ruins lie to one side of the cathedral built by the Spanish next to the Great Marketplace. The site can be visited using a series of overlooks and footpaths.’ This is it, we need to get here.”

  “Now?”

  Kelly nodded, and his shoulders slumped. Rodriguez scooped up the last of his taco and jammed it in his mouth, chewed three times, then swallowed. “The things I let you talk me into.” He shut the laptop and pushed his chair back. “We’re making a stop first.”

  “We don’t have time—” Kelly said impatiently.

  “Listen, Jones. I’ve only got my sidearm and ten rounds. And unless I’m mistaken, you’re still unarmed. I’m not going after anyone like that.”

  “It’s nearly midnight, how do you expect—”

  “You’re forgetting that I’ve got family here, chica.” He winked. “Time to pay a visit to Tío Pablo.”

  Beads of sweat ran down Flores’s face, but he persisted. The shots were getting closer. Personally he planned to be long gone by the time the battle arrived. He had assumed that Tyr would stage a late-night snatch and grab, flying under the radar to sneak them out during a shift change. But from the sound of it they’d sent a large enough team for an all-out assault. The company manual never mentioned that type of operation.

  The ground shook as a grenade exploded nearby. Screams and cries followed it. Flores gritted his teeth. He could feel Calderon at his shoulder, breathing hard.

  “We must hurry, my friend,” Calderon said.

  “I’m going as fast as I can,” he snapped.

  Next door, aside from occasional coughing fits, Tejada had fallen silent. He sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth. The motion made the light in their pen shift.

  Flores yanked the last two wires apart, pushing them out and away so they would cause the least amount of damage when they crawled through.

  “Is that wide enough?” Calderon asked dubiously. The seam in the wires extended from about a foot off the ground to the bottom of the pen. The wires were spread two inches apart, gaping open like an inverted mouth.

  “We’re about to find out,” Flores said. He pulled some of the filthy matting they used as bedding over his head to protect it, then carefully pushed through. His head just cleared the space. Flores could feel the upper wires straining, tearing at the bedding. One caught the back of his right hand and he winced. He shifted the hand to free it, then eased his shoulders through. The wires snagged at his clothing, but if there was enough room for his shoulders, the rest of his body would follow.

  “You did it, cabrón!” Calderon snarled exuberantly. “Let’s go!”

  Flores wiggled forward on his belly, an inch at a time. He was halfway through when there was a commotion at the front of their cage. He froze, shifting his head to see behind him.

  One of the Zetas guards had materialized at their door. He was aiming right for them.

  Thirty

  Jake kept to the shadows as he followed Mark and Decker. They were entering the camp through the main gates on the eastern side. A pothole-riddled road wove away from the massive wooden fence, disappearing into the jungle. He glanced up at the guard tower they were skirting, wondering why no one was shooting at them yet.

  “They must have pulled everyone south to act as reinforcements,” Mark said, as if reading his mind. “But there are probably still hostiles covering the pens.”

  Decker was on point, sweeping the barrel of his LMT from side to side as he moved ahead of them. They slipped inside, initially sticking to the interior wall. The camp was composed of a motley assortment of dwellings, some obviously prefab, others built on-site from raw wood. They passed a long building, probably guard barracks. A light rain started to fall.

  “Th
e rain’s good cover,” Decker said in a low voice. “Finally we get a break.”

  Jake kept glancing back, braced for someone to start peppering them with rounds. They passed quickly through the section of camp where the guards lived and trained. Decker stopped abruptly, holding up a fist. After waiting a few beats, he charged across an open space, down the long aisle that marked the beginning of the prisoners’ section. A moment later, Jake and Mark followed. They made it across without encountering any guards.

  “Hell, this is almost too easy,” Mark murmured.

  They approached what looked like an endless row of kennels constructed out of chicken wire. The smell was terrible here, sweat and piss mingled with rotting leaves. As they passed along the row, a chorus of voices kicked up. Stark-white eyes stared out at them, fingers clutching the wires. “Señores!” they cried out. “Por favor!”

  “Christ, we might as well have brought a bullhorn,” Decker said, agitated. “They’re gonna bring guards running.”

  Jake agreed, but there was no way to silence the prisoners. The noise shot along the line of pens like the wick leading to a bomb, increasing in volume until a single excited proclamation stood out. “Americanos!”

  “Calderon and Flores are two rows down,” Mark said. “Brown should be coming up on them.” The plan had been for Brown to enter from the next gate over, the one closest to Calderon’s holding cell. That way if one of their groups attracted fire, it would distract the guards enough to allow the alternate team to slip inside.

  Mark was moving faster now. Jake broke into a trot to keep up with him. The radio on Mark’s shoulder suddenly crackled. “This is Alpha team. Hostiles at the North Gate,” Brown said in a low voice.

  “Roger,” Mark said. “Beta team clear. We’re almost at the target.”

  “Roger that. We’ll double back and come in after you.”

  The radio fell silent.

  So it’s down to us, Jake thought. They turned the next corner at a dead run. According to their intel, Flores and Calderon were being held a few hundred feet down and to the right.