The 3rd Cycle of the Betrayed Series Collection: Extremely Controversial Historical Thrillers (Betrayed Series Boxed set)

by Carolyn McCray

  “I mean, I want to see what ‘proof’ of alien life they have,” Bunny responded but Stark couldn’t have heard that correctly, could he?

  “Alien?”

  “Now you can see why I want to tag along.”

  Stark stiffened. While Davidson was out of the country, Bunny was his responsibility. “Then we go with you.”

  “And you are?” Rojas asked.

  “Her IT support and well…a lingerie model.”

  Bunny frowned, looking over to Cama. Bunny wasn’t all that fond of other redheads encroaching on her territory.

  Finally, Bunny turned to Rojas. “Well? What do you say?”

  Rojas threw up his hands in defeat. “Whatever it takes to find that cave.”

  * * *

  Rebecca was pretty sure that every joint in her body was permanently damaged. You really didn’t understand how your body could be rattled until you rode a potato combine for thirty-two miles.

  Those tiny bones in your ear? Yep, those hurt.

  She couldn’t believe how thankful she was for solid ground. Lopez of course bounded off the combine and headed to the small village, ostensibly to secure a slightly more conventional mode of conveyance, but she wouldn’t bet on it.

  “If it is all the same to you,” the commander said. “I will wait for my reinforcements.” The tall man sat down on a rock as if it were a Tempurpedic mattress. Guess he wasn’t willing to wait for what Lopez scrounged up for them. The rest of his soldiers and the hostages straggled along after the commander. Only Bridget stayed with the team. She really seemed to want to get out of Peru ASAP. Cristoval had no choice really. The guy was coming along.

  “I wish I had that luxury,” Brandt responded back, squinting in the distance to see what Lopez was up to. Rebecca noticed that this time Ki went with the driver. Apparently the new point man would like to have some influence on their next transportation choice. Rebecca hated to tell the man, but once Lopez decided on a vehicle, that was it. Game over.

  Thank goodness, on the horizon a red fairly standard looking SUV came down the road. More like zoomed down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust.

  The SUV looked like an average American model, but another brand was stamped cross the grill. This one appeared to be a Junto. Whatever that was. But did she care? It had four tires, actual seats and a roof.

  Rebecca was not going to complain.

  Brandt turned to the commander. “Sure you don’t want to join us?”

  “With him driving? No thank you,” the commander responded. “I like my neck just fine.” The rest of his soldiers and the hostages, sans Bridget, seemed to agree with the commander.

  Fine by her. The fewer people they had, the faster they could travel. Brandt appeared to agree, shrugging at the rest as Lopez slammed to a stop right next to them.

  “Let’s go find a plane,” Brandt said.

  Yes. Rebecca was pretty much done with Peru.

  * * *

  Davidson put his hand up on the roof of the SUV to help smooth out the upcoming bumps. With Lopez driving, even though the Junto was a perfectly good vehicle, they were bouncing nearly as badly as they had on the combine. Only they were going at least four times faster, possibly more.

  They were headed north to a small airstrip. The hangar was mainly for crop dusters and such, but the commander had thought there was at least one private plane large enough to accommodate them.

  To Davidson’s right the Andes rose high above them. Their rocky slopes were capped by startlingly white snow. From this angle the mountains were beautiful. Davidson could see how, under different circumstances, the Andes would be a prized tourist destination.

  This moment was one for a postcard. The wind high up blew snow from the peaks. It was as if God were painting the skies.

  Just amazing.

  Lopez clicked off his phone, but didn’t say anything.

  Davidson turned his attention to his friend. “Well?”

  Lopez shrugged, jerking the wheel to the left, which ended them up in a pothole. Was he doing this on purpose? “She’s still in labor. The doctor told Momma to prepare for a long haul.” Lopez shook his head. “All this hurry up and wait.”

  Yah, labor. What a bummer, Davidson thought. For Lopez. Just imagine how Maria felt.

  “And what about you?” Lopez asked his eyebrow up.

  Davidson knew exactly what Lopez was angling at, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

  “So, you are sure it is a girl?” Davidson said, trying to tack the conversation in a different direction, but no go.

  “Yep, but you and Bunny? Horizontal Tango? Huh? Huh?”

  It didn’t help that Lopez’s bushy eyebrows were going up and down like Groucho Marx. Davidson caught Bridget’s eye in the rear view mirror. Could this get any more horrifying?

  “We are taking it slow,” Davidson tried to explain, except his voice kind of cracked in the middle. Not exactly reassuring.

  “Seriously, snails have sex faster than you two.”

  Davidson could feel his cheeks turn red and the tips of his ears go burning hot.

  “Leave him alone, Lopez,” Rebecca said from the back seat. “I think it’s sweet they are taking their time.” Her tone turned slightly darker. “Unlike someone else I could mention.”

  Well, that shut Lopez up.

  Not for long, of course, but Davidson would take it.

  * * *

  Rebecca looked to her left. Somehow Bridget had fallen asleep against the window of the SUV. All this bucking and bouncing didn’t seem to affect her.

  It was almost eerie to gaze upon her face. The young woman resembled their Corporal Svengurd so much. From her glacial platinum blonde hair and eyebrows to her strong cheekbones. The Svengurd genes were strong indeed.

  And, when awake, those pale blue eyes? There were times Rebecca felt like she was staring into Svengurd’s eyes. And she had barely known the man. Rebecca could only imagine what it was like for Brandt, Lopez and Davidson. She noticed the men didn’t spend a lot of time interacting with her. If Rebecca didn’t know them better, she would have thought the men were giving Svengurd’s niece the cold shoulder.

  They weren’t, at least not intentionally. Rebecca was pretty sure it was just this whole deja vu thing.

  The young woman’s eyes fluttered open. “Are we there yet?”

  How many times had Rebecca heard that from her own children?

  She smiled. “Almost.”

  Bridget stretched, glancing out the window. Up ahead, not that far, was a small hangar. It was beat-up and broken down. The tin was rusted nearly all the way through and the corners were bent back by what looked like years of animals pushing their way in, probably to get out of the weather.

  There were no cars in the area, but there were four crop duster planes tied down on either side of the hangar. The runway was dirt and not all that long.

  “Those won’t work,” Ki said, sounding like maybe that wouldn’t be all that bad a thing for him.

  But what was in the hangar?

  As they drove onto the airstrip’s road, the bouncing and general discomfort level went down significantly, which only gave Lopez license to accelerate.

  They reached the hangar in the blink of an eye, then Lopez slammed on the brakes, skidding them to a halt. The hangar door was down so they couldn’t see what was inside. Lopez popped his door, trotting around the SUV to the hangar. He opened the side door, stopped and started laughing.

  This couldn’t be good.

  * * *

  Cristoval would have rather stayed within the SUV, but everyone was exiting the car and the large soldier did not seem inclined to leave him there alone.

  The other soldiers and women didn’t seem nearly as amused by whatever lay within the hangar as their driver had. As a matter of fact, the large Asian soldier turned on his heel and walked off, shaking his head.

  Interest piqued, Cristoval walked forward, looking over the blonde’s shoulder. Inside was something he had a hard
time describing.

  The front of the “plane” looked pretty normal. It had a blunt nose and windshields for the pilot in the cockpit. What happened after that got very confusing. The wings, instead of being horizontal to the ground were vertical. The “engines” were placed on top of these “wings” and were more like helicopter rotors than typical plane engines. The rest of the body of the plane, looked like a plane. A narrow cylinder that ended in a tail flap.

  “Isn’t she a beauty?” the driver said running his hands over the wing.

  The “plane” was stored atop a ten foot tall red scaffolding. It wasn’t until Cristoval got closer that he realized that USAF was stenciled on one of the wings.

  “This is American?” Cristoval asked, not expecting his question to be answered.

  “Hell, yes she is,” Lopez said. “This was the Air Force’s first attempt to create a plane-helicopter hybrid back in the 40’s. They didn’t really succeed any better until the 2000’s.”

  Clearly the man was infatuated with the machine. He climbed up the scaffolding to look into the cockpit through the windshield.

  “And she is in excellent condition. It bet she’s even fueled.”

  Cristoval glanced over to the soldier’s leader, the man called Brandt. “We are really taking this contraption to America?”

  “Yep,” the large man answered.

  “Then I think I would rather not accompany you.”

  “Too bad,” the man grunted then walked forward to the “plane.”

  “How long until we are wheels up, Lopez?” Brandt asked.

  Lopez jumped down from the scaffolding to land next to his commanding officer. “Not long. Fifteen minutes.”

  “You are sure you can fly this thing?”

  The shorter man snorted. “I was born to fly her.”

  That seemed to satisfy Brandt, but not Cristoval.

  “Brandt, I must protest my kidnapping.”

  The large officer turned and looked Cristoval up and down. He tried not to flinch under such a hard assessment.

  Finally Brandt breathed out. “You aren’t kidnapped, Cristoval. You are under arrest. There’s a difference.”

  “On what charges?” Cristoval demanded.

  Brandt laughed. “You are kidding me right? Um, attacking an embassy? Taking hostages? Trying to blow me and my team up?”

  Cristoval felt his back straighten. “I believe it was you who tried to blow me up.”

  “Minor details,” Brandt said. “I have the authority to arrest anyone I deem a threat to American’s national security. Now I can put you in zip ties if you’d like to make it seem all official.”

  “No, no,” Cristoval mumbled. “But --”

  The soldier’s wife stepped in between them. “Dude, I’d quit while you are ahead.” She indicated that he follow her to the back of the plane where Lopez was pushing a metal ladder up to the hatch. “Besides we have a lot to talk about on the flight.”

  The flight, the flight Cristoval was not looking forward to, but having this woman to himself for several hours, now that he was looking forward to.

  * * *

  Bunny, Stark and whoever the hell that redhead was, followed Rojas and the shaman through a shrub arch dripping with honeysuckle. Where were they going now?

  She wasn’t even going to guess, because Bunny knew she’d just be wrong.

  They finally entered what looked like a quaint Victorian era thatch hut. Only this outbuilding had nothing inside of it other than a hatch in the floor. Now this was more like a religious zealot’s lair.

  The shaman lifted the hatch, and Rojas descended a set of metal stairs. He didn’t even look behind him. He simply seemed to assume that Bunny would follow. And she was going to. She could hardly wait to see this “proof” of Jesus being an alien. Knowing what she knew, this might actually be fun.

  Glancing behind her, Stark didn’t seem to be enjoying himself at all, but then again he hated being out in the field. He seemed allergic to any other domicile than his attic. It truly was a testament to his deep loyalty to her that he’d left his house at all.

  But what was the redhead doing with them? When did Stark pick up another groupie? That Tika had been a loser, and quite frankly there was only room for one redhead on the team.

  She would straighten it all out after they got through this mess.

  The steps took them deep within the earth. When they finally reached the landing, the floor was moist dirt. The shaman seemed much more at home here, as well. They entered a chamber lit by torches.

  Yep, a cultist haven.

  And there was their jaguar, sprawled out in front of the central fire like a tabby cat in front of the fireplace. Its whiskers twitched and its tail flicked while it dreamt. Those large claws stretched and tightened as it made a low growl. That warning didn’t seem to be meant for them, instead it seemed to be for whatever game it was dreaming of.

  Bunny glanced at Stark, who clung to the back wall.

  He did not seem happy at all with the jaguar.

  To the redhead’s credit, she gave the beast a wide berth, but didn’t seem all that flustered.

  Damn it.

  * * *

  Stark swallowed, again. His mouth was producing more saliva than he could handle. Wasn’t he supposed to have dry mouth or something? But no. Nope, he was ready to start drooling down his chin.

  That would kind of undercut the action hero vibe he was shooting for and missing his mark terribly.

  Bunny was right across the fire from the jaguar. Stark wasn’t all that fond of cats in general, they were a little fast to scratch in his opinion, and a big cat?

  Um, no, just no.

  Stark had, of course, heard plenty of stories about Bunny and the team’s missions. He’d seen the video footage, but actually being inside the actual dark cave was a totally different experience. The place smelled oddly of hickory and brown sugar. There was a pot boiling over the fire. Stark couldn’t even begin to guess what was brewing in that pot.

  Oh and fear, the cave smelled like fear. Or was that just Stark?

  You know what? Stark was perfectly content way over here. There were at least three people between him and the big cat, which was fine by him.

  Unfortunately, he had to draw closer as the shaman sat down cross-legged next to the jaguar, putting a hand casually on the beast’s rump, giving it a pet. Was the man insane?

  Rojas sat down next to the shaman and, in an act of sheer bravery, Bunny sat alongside the Peruvian professor.

  And Cama, the crazy, crazy lingerie model sat down beside the shaman.

  What?

  That left Stark as the only one left on the opposite side of the fire.

  So be it.

  Having to force himself past every instinct to run, screaming with his hands over his head out of the cave, Stark sat down as well.

  “Proof?” Bunny prompted.

  Stark just loved the way Bunny could take charge under any circumstance, because Stark certainly wasn’t going to.

  CHAPTER 17

  Rebecca listened to Bunny. The redhead was reporting under odd circumstances, and the connection wasn’t great since she was underground, but the woman was describing essentially the same thing Rebecca was learning from Cristoval.

  The six pendants held the key to a map that led to the “proof” that not only had Jesus visited the Americas, but was also supposedly an alien. For whatever that was worth.

  The Brotherhood was in possession of four of the pendants. The fifth, which had been given to Lopez as a gift had been only recently recovered. There was a sixth out there somewhere.

  Did they have enough information to decipher the location of this mystery “stash” of Jesus’ gospel?

  Apparently not yet.

  Brandt came up to her seat, which was awkward since this “plane” didn’t exactly fly quite as level as normal planes. “Any other destination than just ‘north?’”

  Rebecca held up a finger. She turned to Cristoval. “Yo
ur main base is in Mexico City, no?”

  The man’s eyes dilated, confirming her suspicions. She had begun to understand the Christian constellations and how they governed the Brotherhood. The center of all the constellations on the cave’s walls, landed in the vicinity of Mexico City.

  “I have confirmation on that,” Bunny stated in Rebecca’s ear. So they didn’t need Cristoval after all.

  “Mexico City,” Rebecca said with a nod to her husband.

  Lopez came over the line. “We’ll have to stop in Panama to refuel and head to MC after that.”

  Brandt looked to her. “Will that work?”

  “Looks like it,” Rebecca reported.

  She turned to Cristoval. “The other four pendants are in Mexico City, aren’t they?”

  Cristoval’s lips pinched tight, but he nodded.

  Rebecca had seen pictures of the other pendants, but she found it best if she could actually touch the artifacts. Many times she had divined secrets just from the texture of a sculpture.

  Could she do it again?

  That would be put to the test in about seven hours.

  * * *

  They had just left Panama, all fueled up.

  Sitting in the copilot’s chair, Davidson was shocked at how respectfully Lopez was flying. From Peru to Panama, Davidson had assumed the lack of throttle-to-the-metal attitude had been to conserve fuel, but now? What was the excuse?

  “So what’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Lopez said. “Maria’s still in labor. After making such a fuss, the baby doesn’t seem to want to come out.”

  Good to know. “Great, but that wasn’t what I was asking about. What’s with the straight -forward flying?”

  By now most plane’s engines would be screaming in pain, bolts would be flying off, and the landing gear may or may not have been still attached to the plane.

  “Oh, I made a promise to Maybelle here that I would return her without a scratch. Pristine. This beauty deserves it.”

  “Pristine?” Davidson said, not bothering to hide the shock in his voice.

  Lopez stroked the control panel with a smile. “This girl got a lot of soldiers out of harm’s way at the end of World War II.”