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

by Carolyn McCray

  “Really?” Davidson answered. “I never heard about that.”

  Lopez continued his affectionate gesture, following the lines of the dials with his fingertips. “It was super classified. They didn’t want anyone to know about Maybelle here. She was the prototype of modern day helicopters.”

  “She proved that runway-less takeoffs were possible?”

  Nodding, Lopez got back to the business of flying. “Yeppers. I am not letting this baby get a single ding.”

  Well, that would certainly be a first.

  * * *

  Bunny’s back was cramped and this was getting just stupid. The shaman had run out of actual useful information about two hours ago and was now just telling them legends of Peru. Not very helpful.

  There was nothing to do but just flat out interrupt. “Look, this is great and all…”

  Everyone’s head swiveled to look at her. Even the jaguar awoke from its nap and blinked its eyelids, looking as if he couldn’t believe she had broken into his master’s story. Apparently the great cat had been enraptured.

  “You want my help. You want new eyes on the problem?” Bunny asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Rojas stated as the jaguar rose and stretched just like Bunny’s old cat in college, only it wasn’t seven feet long, not counting his tail.

  “Then let me go back to the attic. Stark can code some algorithms to try and sort through all the information we have and try to find this cache of Brotherhood artifacts.”

  Rojas frowned. “You think I will let you out of my sight?”

  “Then come with us,” Bunny said, then thought better of it. “Sans the jaguar, of course. Anything to get away from all this smoke and sit in a comfortable chair. I do my best work with a chocolate chip cookie in my hand.”

  “I think not,” Rojas answered.

  Oh my God, this guy was so alpha it wasn’t even funny. But the guy could take some lessons from Brandt. The guy was all muscle-y and in charge, but listened to his team, taking in opinions and weighing them carefully, not just rejecting them out of hand.

  “Look, Rebecca is going to land in Mexico City in a few hours. I would like to have some direction for her rather than reporting the status quo. Don’t you want to find this stash?”

  This time Rojas was slower to answer. He glanced over to the shaman who was head-butting the jaguar at the time, but some kind of message was passed between them.

  “I must have your word you will not try to flee or impair our quest to regain our birthright.”

  Right, the artifacts that proved Jesus was an alien. You know what? Rojas could have them. “I promise.”

  “Then we will head to your technical den,” Rojas said rising.

  The jaguar took a playful swat at his pant hem. The man didn’t seem at all bothered by it, but Stark let out a little squeak.

  The IT guy was truly out of his element here. Luckily they were heading for Stark’s absolute domain.

  * * *

  Brandt watched as the slight smog on the horizon grew to be the sprawling metropolis of Mexico City. A permanent cloud of smog seemed to hover over the city. It wasn’t just one of the most polluted cities in the world, it was also the kidnapping capital of the world.

  There was a small regional airport on the far side of the city. They could land then head into the capital and find this Brotherhood’s headquarters.

  That was the plan anyway until two jets streaked by overhead.

  Brandt headed to the cockpit. Lopez had his headphones over one ear.

  “They are saying we can’t land in the city…”

  “Why?” Brandt asked.

  “Don’t know,” Lopez responded, “But they sound pretty serious. They say they will shoot us down if we try to land.”

  “Options?” Brandt asked his pilot.

  “I hate to say it, but not many,” Lopez responded. “I mean I can land straight down in the middle of the city…”

  Brandt had already thought of that. It might be the one saving grace of this odd plane contraption they were in. “But then we will have the entire Mexican army hunting us down and no extraction plan.”

  Lopez slowly nodded.

  “Then abort descent,” Brandt said making his decision. He really didn’t like to set down into a country that didn’t want his presence, and, worse, knew about it. There was no winning this battle.

  “I’ve got to tell you, I don’t think I’ve got enough fuel to make it to the US,” Lopez reported.

  “We’ll set down further north and refuel before we head to the border,” Brandt stated as Lopez pulled them up and over Mexico City.

  The jets did a few more runs overhead to convince them they were serious, but once they were about one hundred miles outside the city, and clearly heeding the government’s warning, the jets broke out of pattern and headed back to their base.

  “Find us a place to refuel,” Brandt said, patting Lopez on the back.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Funny how missions never went quite the way they were supposed to.

  * * *

  Stark breathed in the sweet, sweet smell of the attic. And sweet it was. Mom had made sugar cookies with vanilla frosting. One of his favorites. She sure knew how to make a quasi-kidnapping seem not all that bad.

  And his back? Oh, his back was singing Hallelujah as he sank into his ergonomic chair. Lumbar support had never felt so good. And not having a jaguar hanging out helped his stress level as well.

  Lots had happened on the South American side of the mission. Stark’s mom was still trying to figure out who had issued the persona non-grata order in Mexico. Whoever it was, it went really high up the chain of command. Like to the palace of the Mexican President.

  Why would he care about Brandt and the team? What did the Mexican El Presidente care what happened in Peru? It might not matter, Lopez was heading into his descent to land at General Guadalupe Victoria airport just outside of Durango. They would refuel then head into a little airstrip outside of El Paso, Texas.

  They had Cristoval in custody. He was singing like a canary, but not saying a whole lot beyond what they had learned from Rojas and the shaman.

  Finally, it was the little loin-clothed man who was out of this element. He stood rigid at the back of the room, glaring at the computer screens as if they were snakes about to strike.

  Let the old guy see how it felt.

  Bunny and Cama were giving each other plenty of room. Bunny sat near Stark, whereas Cama had set up on the far side of Stark’s mother. Of course, that was also where the cookies were.

  “How is it going?” Bunny asked. Although Stark wasn’t sure she really cared what the answer was. It felt like she was just trying to break the strained silence that had descended over the attic since they had arrived. Rojas brooded behind them.

  “I’m just inputting all the constellations and seeing if the computer can extrapolate the symbols that might be on the sixth pendant.”

  Rojas snorted behind Stark. “That infernal machine will never be able to divine what our scholars have not been able to do for centuries.”

  Stark didn’t bother to argue with the man. Arrogance and attractiveness made most people immune to logic. Computers had been able to crack some of history’s most notoriously difficult math problems. He was pretty sure it could break wide open the secrets of the Brotherhood of the Seven Suns.

  Especially if there was evidence of alien life. Stark knew that everyone else was smirking and grumbling under their breath about the alien angle, but Stark hoped it turned out to be true. Finally, some validation of his beliefs.

  Not that he was going to tell Bunny about that. He’d rather not get scolded on his scientific process.

  “Guys,” Lopez came over the mic. “We’re getting waved off from General Guadalupe Victoria.”

  Stark typed rapidly. Sure enough the control tower was warning Lopez to wave off or they would summon jets from the nearby air base.

  “This bird might be gorgeous, but she d
oesn’t carry a lot of fuel,” Lopez explained. “I don’t think I can make it to El Paso without a refuel.”

  “I will try to find a private depot,” Stark stated. “Try and conserve fuel until I do.”

  “Roger that,” Lopez said and clicked off.

  Stark glanced over to his mother. She frowned. While Stark hadn’t necessarily lied to Lopez, it was a pretty long shot they could find a private depot. Mexico didn’t have nearly as many private airports as America. Sure they had a ton of dirt runways, but those usually didn’t have any fuel ports.

  The only ones with fuel on premise belonged to the cartels. Which brought up a whole other set of problems for the team.

  Still he had to try. He didn’t want Lopez and the rest falling from the sky.

  * * *

  Brandt stood over Lopez’s shoulder. He knew that it drove the pilot nuts, but Brandt couldn’t just sit this one out.

  “Are we going to make it?” Brandt asked for the hundredth time. He couldn’t help himself.

  “I don’t know. It’s going to be close,” Lopez reported as he had a hundred other times.

  Lopez had done everything over the past few hours to conserve fuel. El Paso was only a half hour out. They might just limp over the border. Stark had struck out on any fuel between here and there. Well, there were a few depots, but they were cartel-controlled and extremely well guarded. The Mexican army hadn’t been able to rout them out, so Brandt didn’t feel like getting into an unwinnable firefight over fuel.

  So they were making a run for it, and not very fast one. Lopez was true to his word, massaging the plane’s fuel efficiency, keeping them at a decent airspeed the whole time. It was weird.

  “Oh no,” Lopez groaned as the fuel gauge dipped into the red and the plane bucked. “I’ve got to set her down.”

  “We can’t eek out just a little more?” Brandt asked.

  “Not without risking a crash,” Lopez said uncharacteristically. The pilot usually looked forward to crash landings.

  Brandt glanced to Davidson who shrugged. Apparently Lopez really did respect this aircraft he’d dubbed Maybelle. Even now Lopez stroked the control panel.

  “Just a bit more,” Lopez cooed, guiding them down.

  In the distance Brandt could make out El Paso just across the border. Closer was Juarez, a Mexican city. Lopez was right. They were not going to make America. They weren’t even going to make the small airport on the western edge of Juarez.

  “Put us down outside the city. Let’s not draw a lot of attention,” Brandt said.

  “It’s going to be a haul across the desert then,” Davidson replied.

  “That’s fine. My legs are stiff anyway.”

  Lopez nodded, dropping them slowly to the ground. They were able to land with barely a bump.

  Brandt turned to Ki. “You and Lopez head into the city and get us some transportation. It’ll be dark soon. We’ll cross the border --”

  Didn’t Bunny know that Brandt hated to be interrupted, especially when he was giving orders? Apparently not.

  “Brandt, it is worse than we thought,” Bunny stated. “There is a terrorist alert on all of your names. If you try to cross at an official site, you will be taken into custody.”

  “What the hell?” he barked.

  “I know. I know,” Bunny rushed on. “We are trying to work it out on our side, but there is no doubt, someone is trying very hard to keep you out of the US. The Mexicans were just doing this person a favor by keeping you from refueling.”

  “Is it our Brotherhood friends?” Brandt asked.

  “I don’t think so. Rojas insists they have nothing to do with this.”

  Brandt grunted looking over at the man in their custody. “So does Cristoval.”

  “We will keep digging, but for now you’ve got to find another way to cross the border.”

  Fine. This was probably the smallest of their setbacks on this mission.

  He turned to Lopez. “Find us a coyote.”

  * * *

  “Brandt,” Bunny stated. “Can I speak to Rebecca?”

  “Rebecca here.”

  “Hey, I am sending you some information that Stark’s computer spat out,” Bunny explained. “Let me know once you’ve been able to take a look at it.”

  In typical fashion, it only took Rebecca a few seconds before she was back on the line. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Pretty damned sure,” Bunny replied. She too had been taken aback by the findings, but Stark’s computer couldn’t be argued with, even though Rojas had tried to.

  “I’m not sure if I can talk Brandt into following this up before we turn Cristoval into the authorities,” Rebecca stated.

  Bunny sucked in a breath. “The terrorist alert just changed from a ‘detain’ to a ‘dangerous and armed – shoot on sight’ order.”

  Brandt came on the line, apparently he had been eavesdropping. “Stark’s mother?”

  Bunny looked over as the older woman leaned forward. “I’m here.”

  “You have a good relationship with the President’s chief of staff don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Stark’s mother stated. “Do you want me to have him try to lift the order?”

  “Sure,” Brandt said. “But that could take too long. There is a letter in his drawer, already signed by the President to suspend our Posse Comitatus. Have him date it for today.”

  Guess Brandt was going to follow through on this intelligence after all.

  CHAPTER 18

  Davidson wasn’t sure this mode of transportation was much better than hiking across the desert. Lopez had found possibly the most decrepit Jeep ever. The thing was stripped down to its bare essence. Therefore, there were no seats, door handles or a windshield.

  But they had Rebecca, who was early term pregnancy and probably shouldn’t be hiking through the hot evening desert. And they had Bridget, who looked like she was physically melting in the Mexican heat.

  Therefore the Jeep, although again, Davidson wasn’t sure this was all that much better. It was getting them to their destination. A spot along an old river wash to meet the coyote.

  People paid the coyotes to get across the border illegally because they knew the right path, the border guards’ schedules, and the best times to cross. What most illegals didn’t have was Stark’s satellite information. They might have been able to cross on their own, but out in the desert there were variables that couldn’t be accounted for.

  Hence the coyote. To try and minimize any surprises out there.

  Lopez had paid a pretty penny for the emergency crossing. It had nearly wiped out what was left of their operational fund. Really, they should be driving across in Cadillacs at that price.

  But they didn’t have a whole lot of room to negotiate. They needed to cross, and cross tonight.

  Lopez slammed on the brakes and skidded them around a corner. They found three men, dressed for the crossing and another ten people who seemed to be wearing what they had been wearing at dinner. The coyote’s regular clients.

  Women clutched purses to their chest. Men wrapped protective arms over their women’s shoulders.

  Little did they know, they were crossing with an elite Special Forces team. He wasn’t sure if they would be relieved by that knowledge or not.

  The leader of the coyotes spoke rapidly to Lopez in Spanish. Davidson followed about half of it. Apparently they were being split off from the main group. Lopez had paid for the premium package.

  The man pointed into the desert. A car transporter sat not far, loaded with ATVs. Wouldn’t the sound give them away though? Then one of the men backed the vehicle down the ramp and drove it over to them. It was silent. Okay, maybe there was the slightest buzz, but it certainly didn’t roar the way it should.

  They must be electrically powered.

  Weird.

  Lopez didn’t seem to mind, as he hopped on as soon as the man dismounted. He revved the engine, only there wasn’t any sound.

  “This is going to
be fun,” Lopez stated, driving circles around them.

  Davidson grinned, but Ki looked worried. Which was probably the more appropriate response.

  The lead coyote came over to Brandt. “The price has doubled.”

  Clearly the coyote didn’t know who he was dealing with.

  Brandt’s response was swift and definitive. He elbowed the guy in the nose. The crack of the bone filled the air. The man staggered back, gripping his bleeding nose.

  “No, it hasn’t,” Brandt said as the other coyotes pulled their guns.

  Unfortunately the coyotes were outnumbered and way out-gunned. They had little six shooters. The team was pointing automatic rifles at them.

  “And as a matter of fact, you aren’t going to charge these nice people anything for the crossing, just because you got greedy,” Brandt said, taking a step toward the lead coyote. “And if I find out you went back on that and any of these people were harmed, I will hunt you down and put you in the dirt. Are we clear?”

  Despite the fact the coyote tried to pretend he didn’t speak English, he nodded his head vigorously. He understood enough to make the right decision.

  “We will take your best tracker and he will ride ahead of us at all times,” Brandt demanded. The coyote didn’t respond. “Now.”

  The man jumped, blood dripping down his hand. “Si, si,” he answered, pointing to a bearded coyote who straddled one of the ATVs. Upon a nod, he drove off into the night.

  The rest of the ATVs were delivered.

  * * *

  As the others mounted up, Rebecca turned to Bridget. “You don’t have to come with us.”

  Brandt nodded beside Rebecca. “Your name isn’t on the terrorist watch list.”

  “Yet,” Bridget reminded them. “If it is all the same to you, I’d like to stay with you until we reach a safe haven. I think it is what my uncle would have wanted.”

  Rebecca expected Brandt to put up a little more of an argument, but the invocation of Svengurd seemed to stuff the words right back down his throat.

  “If that is what you want,” Brandt said, getting onto one of the few two seated ATVs. “You will ride with Davidson then.”