by Alex Archer
With a grin of triumph, Claire scooped up the gun, pointed it at Annja and mouthed, Goodbye.
Annja didn’t wait around. Staring down the barrel of a .45 was all the motivation she needed to get the heck out of the way as quickly as possible. She let go of the engine cowling, and the wind carried her right off the back of the boat into the water.
The water felt like a brick wall when she hit it, leaving her dazed and confused. Her fingers had a hold of some kind of rope or cord hanging off the back of the boat and she instinctively tightened her grip. The line, whatever it was, unfurled, spooling out behind the boat a short distance before snapping taut with a suddenness that nearly took her arm out of the socket. She held on for dear life, knowing that this one little cord might mean the difference between life and death.
The boat’s wake kept trying to force her head under the water and it was all she could do to keep her mouth and nose out of the depths in order to keep breathing.
Annja knew she had to do something. She could already feel her strength starting to wane from the constant battering she was taking behind the boat; if she waited too long she might not have the strength to do anything at all. She needed to get back into the boat.
Fighting against the current, Annja brought her left hand up and put it on the rope. Holding on with her left, she brought her right a bit higher and then repeated the process. Inch by inch, hand over hand, she pulled herself back toward the boat.
She had managed to close about half the distance when the launch hit a particularly bad swell and Annja lost her grip. The launch leaped away from her as if shot from a cannon and only a feverish grab for the very end of the rope saved her from the ocean depths.
Annja hung there, at the very end of the rope, the salt water stinging her eyes, the wind whipping at her face, her arms aching. She was so tired; all she wanted to do was let go.
But then the image of Dr. Knowles and his excavation team rose in her mind and she found a renewed strength.
Hand over hand, she started to inch toward the boat again.
With every passing second Annja thought Claire would look up, see her hanging on and put a bullet through her skull. To her great surprise, it didn’t happen. Claire kept the launch on a north-by-northeast heading and was scanning the horizon, obviously looking for something. It wasn’t until Annja had dragged herself all the way to the back of the boat that she realized what it was Claire was headed toward.
The Sea Dancer.
The jammed controls would have kept the vessel moving in the same direction until it ran out of gas or hit something. With the damage to the Pride rendering it inoperable, Claire was searching for a substitute.
Excellent idea, Claire.
The boat was already rocking about because of the speed and the choppiness of the water, so Claire didn’t notice Annja standing behind her.
Annja considered calling her sword and using that to subdue Claire, but something just didn’t feel right about it. Annja reached up and touched the tender spots on her face where Claire had been wailing away earlier. This was no longer about business; this had become personal.
At that moment, Claire suddenly realized she wasn’t alone. Whatever it was she had meant to do, she never got the chance to do it as Annja snaked her forearm around Claire’s neck and under her chin, then clamped her arms on her opposite biceps. Claire struggled, but it was over almost before it had begun.
Annja spied a length of rope and used it to bind her captive. Only once Claire was tied hand and foot did Annja take charge of the launch’s engine to chase the distant silhouette of the Sea Dancer—the ship she intended to use to transport Claire back to the City of the Sun.
40
Chatham Bay
Cocos Island
The queen was waiting for Annja and her captive as she pulled the launch into Chatham Bay late that afternoon.
Annja hopped out of the launch and dragged it higher onto the beach, where it wouldn’t drift away. Claire sat on the floor of the boat. Annja had gagged her earlier, to cut off the endless stream of threats the woman spouted, but all Claire did now was stare in sullen anger.
To think she’d been so swayed by Claire’s lies.
Live and learn.
Annja took hold of Claire’s arm and helped her stand up, then tried to assist her in getting out of the boat. Claire was unable to walk, or move at all, in fact, so Annja untied the rope from Claire’s hands and feet.
Once they were on the sand, they approached the queen, who was flanked by a pair of Incan guards.
The queen was dressed in lightweight robes of bright colors that reminded Annja of Indian sarongs. She sat on a beautiful throne, a woven carpet beneath it, a canopy overhead.
The queen smiled when she saw Annja and her smile grew even wider when she recognized who it was that Annja had with her.
“Well, sword-bearer,” the queen said as Annja stepped up and bowed in front of her. “Have you fulfilled the conditions of your debt?”
“I have.” Annja gestured at Claire. “Here is your son’s killer, as promised.”
Claire’s eyes grew wide and she fell to her knees, begging the queen for mercy.
The queen watched all this for a moment and then ordered Claire to be quiet, telling her that she could plead for her life later. For once, Claire listened.
“And her companions?” the queen asked.
“They didn’t live through the confrontation.”
The queen nodded. She watched Annja closely as she asked, “And you?”
Annja raised her eyes to meet the queen’s cool gaze. “I am ready to accept the judgment passed upon me in exchange for the lives of my friends, as previously agreed.”
Annja refused to let the queen see any emotion other than stoic resolve. There was no other option; she was determined that she and the others were going to get off this island alive.
“By order of Inca Tupac, your death sentence has been commuted. You are free to go, as are your friends. They have been well cared for and are ready to leave.”
Annja didn’t know what to say. Words escaped her. Annja’s selfless act not only saved those under her charge, but ultimately her own life, as well. It was an act worthy of the sword-bearer and Annja felt a fresh sense of pride at having been chosen to carry that burden. She vowed anew to continue to uphold the principles the sword’s original bearer had held true.
She looked at Claire, huddled at the feet of the queen, and wasn’t sure whether leaving her to her fate was the right thing to do anymore.
Could she make one more deal with this queen?
Claire made the decision for her as she sprang for a dagger on the belt of one of the guards and lunged for the queen.
The queen’s face froze in terror, the guards too stunned to react.
Annja, sword in hand now, plunged it swiftly through Claire’s truly evil heart.
The queen closed her eyes and bent her head, as if in prayer. Her two guards obeyed her lead.
Annja remained where she was; she couldn’t seem to look away from the queen.
Noises in the jungle nearby broke the spell.
This time Annja had no need for her sword, though, as Dr. Knowles and his team, and the rest of the survivors, came into view, flanked by an army of Incan warriors.
Dr. Knowles waved, and many of the others cheered.
Annja smiled.
The queen clapped her hands, and as the guards prepared to escort her back to her mountain sanctuary, she paused and said a strange thing.
“Perhaps one day we will meet again, sword-bearer. And if we do, perhaps you will be willing to tell me the story of how you came to possess that sword of yours.”
And without another word, the queen went on her way, leaving Annja standing there, wondering just what other secrets the woman might be hiding in that mountain sanctuary of hers.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460324462
TREASURE OF LIMA
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Joe Nassise for his contribution to this work.
Copyright © 2014 by Worldwide Library
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