Satisfied that they were safe for the moment she hoisted the phone off the wall mount and tugged on the twisted metal chord to heft the receiver to her ear. Nothing. She jiggled the hookswitch but there was no dial tone. Defeated, she slammed the black receiver back in its cradle and hung her head.
“Don’t even say it.” Mitch reached past her and hauled the phone to his ear. “Son of a bitch.” He slammed it back down.
“That’s it,” he muttered. “We just want a friggin break.”
“There is probably a phone behind the bar.”
“Then we’re going to the bar.” He took her hand. “Maybe someone will feel sorry for us and buy us a drink.”
Mitch’s frustration mirrored her own, but the idea of being in a public venue where any patron could leave and mention the gringos they just saw−
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
She didn’t acknowledge Mitch’s words until she saw him looking into the bar with a crooked smile on his face.
The bar was made of wood with a warped formica counter. Behind it, the green-painted wall was dotted with ads for Gallo Cerveza and some local photographs, as well wooden shelves hosting an assortment of liquor bottles. A tarnished mirror reflected the balding crown of the bartender who stared at her so long the beer he was pouring spilled over the rim of the cup. She wasn’t looking at him though. She was looking at the clientele at the counter, and the men occupying the tables and plastic chairs. It was none other than her own group of students. In the mirror she caught Chuck’s eye. His mug hit the formica with a thud and she could see him mouth, “Holy shit.”
He hoisted back from the bar so fast, the uneven legs on his stool caused it to topple backwards, which stopped the guitar player and severed all noise so that only the sound of a dog barking in the distance was heard. Then Alex was hoisted into Chuck’s tight, off-the-floor hug as a roar of voices filled the room. Always a stickler for no physical contact or any displays of affection with the students, she nonetheless hugged Chuck’s neck and laughed in his ear.
“Doc!” he cried setting her back down and looking her over, frowning at the Xibalba polo shirt. “What the hell happened?”
As the young archeologists formed a ring around her and Mitch, the singer decided to resume his off-key crooning and the bartender obeyed a command for another round.
Chuck leaned in and whispered, “All we had was the money in our pockets, but in Ramonez that gives us a feast and plenty of shots.”
Alex laughed again because suddenly everything was the funniest thing in the world to her. Witnessing the students around her, all safe, produced a euphoria that no amount of alcohol could achieve. That exhilaration was amplified by the fact that she too was now safe.
In the melee she reached for Mitch’s hand and he winked at her.
“The photographer.” Chuck clapped him on the shoulder. “Man you just don’t go away, do you?”
“I’m like a mother in-law.” Mitch smiled.
Alex searched the faces and locked on Zach’s tousled hair in the crowd. She noted the fresh bandage wrapped around his shoulder and the impromptu sling made from dish towels.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Zach bobbed his head and wiggled his fingers. “Chuckles has soft hands.”
“WTF man?” Chuck frowned. “I don’t have soft hands.”
A laugh ricocheted through the circle as she scanned the happy faces and said to Chuck, “Where’s Wes?”
Even as she said the words panic drew a cinch around her ribs. Had they had a casualty? No! Not Wes!
“Beh.” Chuck snorted. “He’s the only guy with a surviving cell phone. He’s been wandering around in the street, doing the ‘can you hear me now?’ speech. But he did get through to the authorities in Santa Elena.”
“They’re on their way?”
“Yes, I think they have contacted the US Embassy in Guatemala City, which I believe has called the school to reach our families.”
“Wow.” Alex slumped back and landed against Mitch’s solid chest. His arm came around her, a stabilizing bar to keep her from falling off of what felt like the top of a ferris wheel. “You guys don’t mess around.”
“We had to wait for the authorities to arrive before we could even think about going back to get you, Alex,” Chuck scratched the back of his head, and the hair stayed ruffled in place like the wisp of an indignant bird. He looked contrite as he glanced at the empty shot glasses on the bar. “The guys needed something, Alex.”
“Hey.” She waved away his qualms. “If any of you can spare a few centavos, I think Mitch and I could use one of those ourselves.”
On cue, men were reaching into jean pockets and silent nods were extended to the curious bartender.
Alex turned and was so close to Mitch that her palms landed on his chest. He looked down at her and smiled, wrapping his hands over hers.
Chuck glanced back and forth between them and hoisted an eyebrow. “Wow. You two? Wow.”
When neither of them addressed his comment, Chuck just shook his head and laughed, “The friggin photographer. I can’t believe it.”
Alex saw a shadow cross the open doorway. It was Wes, and for the first time in her life, she felt that he looked old. What had always been a gold scruff now neared a full rust-colored beard. Perspiration plastered the thinning blond hair to his head making the onset of baldness more evident. But his eyes widened at the sight of her, and he mouthed the word, “Alex,” without any air coming out.
She broke from the pack and launched at him, another complete lack of etiquette on her part. His hug was immediate and his rough whisper of, “Thank God you’re safe,” was enough to set her world back on tilt.
“Wes,” she said. “We all made it.”
“Was there ever a doubt with you in charge?” He chuckled and she saw him look over her shoulder, following his sightline until it landed on Mitch.
“I think I love him.” She confided to the one man that she could present such a confession to.
Wes nodded and smiled down at her. “Oh, I pretty much saw that one coming.”
“You did?” She punched his arm. “Why the hell didn’t you clue me in?”
“Oh no, Alex, you wouldn’t have believed me. You would have torn my head off for even offering such an opinion.”
Alex felt nearly high on serenity, but peace was never an elemental part of her psyche. Caution always lurked on the fringe. “Have you seen any sign of Solis’s men?”
“No, we haven’t seen anyone, but then again we haven’t been expecting to. Now that you’re here, I’m guessing they’re after you?”
A cheer roared from inside the bar as a new round of shots commenced. Alex saw Mitch try to break from the pack and join her, but Zach’s good arm was used to drag him towards the bar. She caught his eye and conveyed with a simple nod that she would be there in a second. Mitch’s eyes flicked towards Wes and she witnessed a brief flash of jealousy. It felt good. It felt so good. She smiled and shook her head. Even this brief separation and she was missing the feel of his body near hers. God, she had to get a grip. If someone put tequila in her, she would probably maul Mitch in front of her group without inhibition.
“We’re going to have to get out of this town soon, Alex,” Wes warned. He had nearly as dry a personality as she. She had to lean in to hear him over the shouts inside and noticed there was no hint of alcohol on his breath.
“What?”
“I said−” he started, but Tim Gundy began to sing with the guitar player, inventing lyrics as he went along.
Wes stepped back outside and Alex followed so she could hear.
“I said−” he walked to the edge of the landing covered by an aluminum awning, and rested his shoulder against one of the wooden columns that supported it, “−that we can’t stay here and party. We have to keep moving. I thought the guys were pretty much safe because I doubted that guerillas gave a damn about them…but now you’re here.”
Alex stepped up
to the next column, but did not lean against it because it looked rife with splinters. She searched the street with its pastel-colored buildings looking like colored inhabitants of an Easter basket. Some of their windows were covered with wrought iron gates. A small church painted the same bright blue hue that you might find in a hotel swimming pool did not come close to the grand architecture from the town square.
“I know. I am not comfortable here. Chuck says the authorities are on their way?”
Wes nodded, kicking the tip of his boot against the post which made Alex eye the awning warily. Inside, the volume increased as more voices joined in the chorus of Luna de Xelaju. The men were so bad that Alex laughed and cast Wes a wide-browed smile.
“I really was worried about you, Alex.” He didn’t even crack a grin.
She crossed over towards him to get away from the noise, and it was then that she noticed the gun in his hand.
“Wes?” It came out as a hoarse croak.
As many times as her eyes jumped from the small weapon in his copper-furred fingers, up to the cerulean eyes she had known for most of her life, Alex could not associate the two. The hand existed in a parallel universe−one she never wanted to visit.
“I’m sorry,” his voice came from that penitent world.
Alex choked and glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming outside. She was about to shout when Wes waved the gun at her, shaking his head. He jerked the weapon as a magnet intended to draw her to his side, but she wanted no part of it. She stood on trembling legs, still trying to correlate the man and the pistol.
“You have to come with me, Alex. I’ll explain along the way.”
Maybe there was hope. Maybe he was a victim of manipulation. She took a tentative step forward and felt his hand clamp around her arm, giving an urgent tug. The gesture didn’t feel like manipulation.
“Franklin has been good to me, Alex. It’s corny, but he’s been like a father. He took me on as a young punk out of school and taught me everything he knew.”
Her jaw slackened and she had to struggle to bring the street and the Easter egg buildings back into focus. The muscle running down her arm grew strong in resistance and she pumped her bicep to repel his grip.
“But you quit.” Her voice sounded feeble. “You joined me.”
“He told me to. He wanted me to keep my eye on you. At first he led me to believe he was concerned for your welfare, but I realized later that I was meant to feed him information about your findings−your successes.” He hesitated, “and about your failures.”
“And you put up with that?”
It was slow in coming, like climbing the last five steps at the temple of the Lost Souls, but with each final stride her anger mounted.
“I will take over for your father one day.” Wes tucked the gun out of view, tight up into the side of her ribs. “He said that I was the son he never had, and that you were talented but could never achieve the goals he had in mind.”
“Such as theft and murder?” she snorted. “Yeah, he’d be right on that. But I never took you for the immoral type.” Disbelief set in again, mated by the intense pain of betrayal. “Wes, you were my rock. I thought of you as a brother. I−” Tears felt gritty in the heat. “I trusted you.”
“Alex, just because I work for him doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
“You’ve got a goddamn gun in my side. Don’t give me that.”
Hotel del Lago was behind them now and they were moving towards the next building, a white concrete block structure with a solitary wood door, and the hospitality of a mausoleum.
“I’m not going to hurt you as long as you cooperate. Don’t make me hurt you, Alex. I don’t want to do that.”
She glanced at the man who had worked at her side for over two decades. His beard glistened as the sun collided with the perspiration. Tawny hair was pasted to his temple where she could see a thick blue vein throbbing.
“If my father thinks so damn much of you then why did he bring me to Xibalba? He told me it could all be mine.”
She could have cared less, but she wanted to goad retaliation out of Wes. To her dismay Wes just shook his head.
“It was our hope that you would listen to him. It was our hope−It was our hope that you and I could−”
Alex held her hand up. “Oh dear God, are you kidding me?” She would have paced if he had permitted. “How quaint, Wes. How goddamn quaint that would have been.”
A grimace twisted his lips. “Come on,” he growled.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Solis is waiting outside of town. I told him I would do this. This way none of the others would get hurt.”
“Oh, how touching.” She wrenched her eyes away from him. “You care.”
“Alex.” He tugged on her arm. “I do.”
“If I ran right now, would you shoot me?”
Wes pulled her to a stop in the middle of the road and she was forced to look into the eyes of the man that betrayed her. Yes, she could see conflict there, but there were equal shadows of resolve.
“I’d take you down,” he whispered. “If I had to. I wouldn’t kill you, but I have to return you to Franklin.”
“You suck.” It was a petulant response, but she hurt to the core. “So there are no authorities coming?”
“They are. Chuck was with me when I made the call. He actually grabbed the phone out of my hand when he thought I wasn’t conveying the critical nature of the call enough.” Wes raised his head and looked back towards the bar, the music faint now. His head swung towards the tree line at the end of the town square. “We have to hurry before they get here.” He yanked on her again.
They were heading for those trees, and Alex didn’t want to disappear forever behind that green curtain. She struggled for a delay.
“You used to read to me when I was young.” She shook her head in disbelief and slowed her steps imperceptibly, dragging the tip of her toe to leave an indentation in the dirt. “You took care of me when I was sick, when I wouldn’t let anyone else in.”
“Alex, I told you, just because I worked for him doesn’t mean that I didn’t really care about you. There were times when I went up against him regarding you.”
“When?”
“Remember when you found all those obsidian pieces in Belize?”
“Yes, the camp was vandalized, I−” Now she outright halted in place. “You sabotaged me?”
“I was told to confiscate the pieces.” Wes looked up at the blue sky and his eyes looked moist. “That was one time I disagreed, and he said that if I were to ever oppose him again that my career would be finished−and it was hinted that quite possibly so would my life.”
In her mind, Alex was pummeling Franklin Langley with fists made of cement. The sound in her head of that impact nearly caused her to miss the crunch of loose rock behind her.
“Are you two taking a stroll?” Mitch’s voice was deceptively soft behind them.
***
Wes whirled around, jerking Alex’s body with him. The motion disclosed the handgun pressed tight against her abdomen. It was what Mitch had already suspected noticing their awkward gait as he trailed behind, scaling the shadows of the concrete facades. Once Alex was out of his sight, his nerves had kicked into high gear. No matter how innocent it might be that she was with Wes, Mitch did not trust that Solis was not close by, watching them and waiting.
When he overheard the murmurs of agitation, and witnessed Alex yanking her arm to seek freedom, Mitch was shocked at the tableau, but there was no time to dwell. Alex was all that mattered to him. He knew her trust was tenuous at best, and now this new betrayal on such an immediate level would probably shatter her beliefs in anyone.
“Back off, Hasslet.” Wes barked and then jerked his head around Mitch’s silhouette to see if others had followed.
The street was empty.
Mitch held his hands up. “It’s just me, but I go with her.” He nodded at Alex, evading her eyes because they
would sap his strength if he witnessed her pain. “You can take us both to Franklin. You have the gun.”
“He doesn’t want you.”
“What’s he going to do with her, kill her? His own daughter?” Keep it analytical, Mitch. Don’t let emotion cloud any judgment. “And you care so little that you’ll let that happen? I mean, you had me duped, Wes. I thought you had feelings for her. I gotta admit. I was damn jealous of you. I know that wasn’t my place. You had been with her forever, and I’m just some yahoo photographer that showed up, but−”
Aw crap, he caught the sun reflect off the tears on Alex’s cheek.
“Mitch.” Her voice was hoarse. “Turn around. Go back.”
“Listen to her, Hasslet.”
“If I start listening to her, she’ll get all cocky and think that she’s the one wearing the pants in the family.”
“This is no joke, man.” Wes jabbed the gun against Alex’s side and she winced.
“I’m telling you, Wes,” he commanded. “Let her go.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” Wes cried. “I have the gun.”
“And, so do I.”
A voice behind Wes made his head wrench around, but the aim of his gun never wavered.
“Chuck! What the hell are you doing?” Wes’s voice cracked, as did his veneer. Perspiration pooled on his forehead, forming rivulets down the sides of his face. His eyes looked bright and panicked and were flanked with grim wrinkles.
To Mitch’s surprise, Chuck had somehow materialized a weapon. Moments ago, when they uttered a hushed exchange about Alex’s welfare, it was planned to split up in case a third party, namely Solis, showed up. But there was no weapon discussed at the time, otherwise he would have grabbed it.
“Where’d you get the gun?” Mitch asked, not giving Wes the satisfaction of disclosing his fear.
“The guitar player was packing.” Chuck said.
“Look,” Wes backed up so that he could volley his eyes between the two men, “Chuck, I’ve got no beef with you. You know that.”
“Huh.” Chuck smirked. “What the hell do I know? I would have thought you had no beef with Doc here either.”
Jungle of Deceit Page 20
