The Emperor's Treasure

by Daniel Leston

  He sensed movement in the dark as Torres stirred, a faint groan indicating the officer was likewise coming around.

  What David needed was light.

  He stood, fumbling for the door’s handle, then used his full weight to force it halfway open. This was the best he could achieve. Several inches of stone and gravelly debris had compacted against it from the explosion’s blast.

  What dim light this provided was of an eerie, yellowish cast—and understandably so. Near as he could tell, only one of the basement’s florescent overheads remained on, and this lone fixture was a considerable distance away. The others had been shattered by the explosion, the majority of the valances torn free from the ceiling and now dangling by their electrical wiring.

  He turned and assisted a wobbly Torres to his feet.

  “Take it slow,” he cautioned. “Are you okay?”

  The shaken man gave a weak nod in the affirmative.

  “I think so. And you?”

  “I’ve felt a damn sight better. A few scrapes and bruises, nothing more.”

  “So how—how long do you think we were—?”

  “At least fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Long enough that most of the dust has already begun settling. Take a look.”

  Torres followed him through the partially opened door.

  “Christ Almighty . . .” the officer muttered after surveying the damage. “I’d say we’re lucky to be alive. An explosion like this—! By all rights, we really shouldn’t have survived.”

  “I agree. I’m guessing the freight elevator is the only reason we did. The fact that it has no roof was what probably saved us.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “It gave the initial shock wave somewhere to go, dissipating the bulk of its energy straight up and out through that ten-foot opening. If it hadn’t been there, the force of such a confined explosion would’ve been more than a match for our block shelter.”

  Torres’ eyes now fixed on the considerable damage done to the exposed side of the metal-clad door. Its entire surface was scarred and pitted as if struck by shrapnel—which in a sense it had been. The magnitude of the detonation had driven crushed stone and gravel from the packed basement floor against it with the impact of an industrial sandblaster. Seeing this, he swallowed hard, shaking his head as the full realization of just how close they’d come to death now fully hit home.

  “Damn! If we’d been caught in the open, David, we’d have been virtually shredded like so much soft meat!”

  “That was definitely someone’s intention all along. We were suckered into the bastard’s trap from the beginning. Let’s get the hell out of here before there’s any more ugly surprises.”

  What little color remaining in Torres’ face now suddenly drained.

  “Oh crap!” he said. “Pilar! You don’t think—?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking, Russ.”

  They hurriedly ascended the curved stairway to the ground floor. Once back in the cruiser, David immediately retrieved his cell phone from the dash and began dialing as they left the compound. As they quickly navigated out onto the private road, David felt his heart begin to sink in his chest.

  “Step on it!” he urged. “She’s not answering.”

  Fifteen minutes later, both men dashed up to the Clarion’s third floor, there finding David’s door ominously unlocked. She wasn’t inside. A fast check of her adjoining rooms confirmed their worst fears. There was no visible evidence of a struggle anywhere, yet Pilar had quite simply disappeared.

  Hoping against hope, Torres looked through the hotel’s two restaurants and parking lots as David interrogated the front desk personnel. All to no avail. None of the day’s staff had seen her exit the building—either alone or in the company of others. Back up in his empty suite, David struggled to contain his growing rage. There was no question who’d taken her, for the ancient vellum painting previously left on the table was likewise gone.

  The fault was his alone.

  In retrospect, he felt he should’ve done far more to protect her—somehow foreseen the possibility of something like this happening. Despite his cautionary instructions before leaving that she not open the door to anyone, her abductors had obviously gained access.

  Now she might well be dead because of his stupidity and negligence.

  “No one could’ve anticipated this—” said Torres, trying to assuage David’s sense of guilt, “no more than we could’ve predicted that surprise trap laid for us at the compound. It’s not your fault it went down this way. I’m a trained police officer. Hell, if anyone’s to blame for not seeing it coming, then it’s me. Whoever planned all this was clever. Damned clever.”

  David listened, shaking his head in frustration. He vehemently disagreed as to culpability, but all his instincts told him now wasn’t the time to belabor the issue. He needed to totally focus all of his energy on the present—on somehow finding Pilar.

  Think, damn it! Rationalize this out while there’s still time!

  To a despondent Torres, he said, “I have to believe she’s still alive. I’m convinced of it. If they just wanted her dead, where’s the evidence to support it? She could’ve been eliminated right here.”

  Torres looked skeptical.

  “Perhaps they just wanted to do the deed in a less public venue . . .”

  “A possibility, certainly, but I don’t believe so. I think there was a different reason for her abduction.”

  “Which is what?”

  David had begun to pace, the better to organize his thoughts.

  “You said it yourself,” he said. “Whoever planned all this is damned clever. If we acknowledge this, then it’s about time we start getting ahead of the curve and stop playing ‘catch-up’ with this bastard. We’ve got to think like he does—which means analyzing every bit of information we have so far. And our best weapon to do so is the fact he thinks we’ve both been eliminated. Why else would he have brazenly walked in and abducted Pilar immediately after the explosion? Literally within minutes. I’m now sure we must’ve been under some form of surveillance since day one—which I think explains his interest in Pilar.”

  He paused before continuing this line of logic.

  “Think it through for a moment, Russ. You and I were at a virtual dead end in our investigation less that a week ago, right? He would’ve doubtless surmised as much. So if we were being closely watched—as I believe we were—then what’s the single event that appeared to inexplicably turn everything around?”

  It took no deliberation on the younger man’s part.

  “The arrival of Pilar,” he replied.

  “Precisely. It must’ve puzzled the hell out him, raising many questions that still need to be answered for his own protection. Not the least of which is what exactly she brought to the table that created this sudden turnaround. Thus I have to believe he fully intends keeping her alive.”

  “But for how long?”

  David sighed, his mind briefly flitting to Peter’s morbid fate.

  “Hopefully, for a little while. In our favor, I suspect he now feels safe, thinking he has all the time in the world to learn what he wishes. This alone should buy us a few days and maybe more. In the interim, somehow—someway—we’ve got to figure out where they transferred all that gold. And quickly. If we can, then logic says we’ll locate her, as well.”

  “But how can we possibly—?” Torres stopped, watching as David picked up the phone and began dialing. “Who are you calling?”

  “We’ve one more weapon in our employ. I’m just praying it will be enough to give us some answers.”

  “Ted Quenton?”

  David nodded.

  “I gave him the few days he requested to further probe the various shell companies that set up En-Tex Environmental. God willing, his people have come up with something useful by now.”

  “You going to tell him how critical this has suddenly become?”

  “I really don’t have any choice.”

 
; CHAPTER TWENTY

  The lingering scent of chloroform remained in Pilar’s nostrils as she gradually awoke inside the moving car’s trunk. The immobilizing effects of the noxious chemical were slow to recede. Even after long minutes her mind still continued to drift back and forth, meandering between intervals of dream-like delusion and brief flashes of reality.

  The single, dominant fantasy she tried to maintain was one of lying contentedly in the dark, held securely in Peter’s protective arms. But with the passage of time this improbable impression became increasingly ephemeral. As much a deep yearning as it was a memory embedded in her subconscious, it eventually became an illusion impossible for her to sustain.

  Cold reality eventually won out.

  That and the constant pain . . .

  Tied in a fetal position within cramped quarters, her ankles were tightly bound, her elbows and wrists unnaturally secured behind her back. A wide band of masking tape encircled her head and mouth, preventing any attempt at crying out. The best she could manage was weak a moan of growing despair.

  She literally ached all over.

  When finally able, she groggily reconstructed the events leading up to her present predicament. That it evolved out of her own stupidity only added further to her misery. In a moment of weakness, she’d thoughtlessly disregarded David’s admonition not to open the door to anyone. Now she was paying a terrifying—perhaps even fatal—price for her brief lapse in judgment.

  It all happened so incredibly fast. Responding to the knock of a well-dressed man identifying himself as the hotel manager, she foolishly admitted him, only to then be grabbed by a second man who immediately spun her around, clutching her neck and shoulders with a strong arm. Before she could even think to react, a damp cloth was clamped hard against her nose and mouth. The overpowering smell made her gasp in shock—which only served to heighten its intended effect.

  After this, she remembered nothing.

  How long ago this occurred, she’d no way of telling. She estimated a few hours. Though the trunk’s interior was dark, her senses told her it was still daylight. What, if anything, this implied, she couldn’t begin to guess. Nor did she try. The only real certainty within her claustrophobic world was a growing wave of sheer panic . . . and if this was left unchecked, she believed her sanity would soon hang precariously in the balance. Her survival—her life!—depended on being strong. And not just her life. There was another that must be protected at all costs.

  As a result of her weakened physical state—or perhaps pure instinct—she again shut her eyes, intentionally releasing her disjointed thoughts to wander wherever they may. The inflexible surface of the trunk’s floor was no less jarring, but she eventually attained a fitful sleep.

  As before, she again dreamed of Peter—but now it was more in guilty anguish than remembered pleasure. The opportunities to tell him were many during their last days and nights together. Yet she hadn’t done so, instead choosing to await confirmation that her delicate condition was indeed a certainty. Sadly, it was now too late. Peter had died never learning she was in the first stages of pregnancy.

  The application of the car’s brakes brought Pilar around a second time, the rhythmic jostling beneath her ceasing as the vehicle abruptly came to a full stop. Moments later, the trunk was popped opened. Though forced to squint into the sudden bright light, she recognized the two men who had earlier abducted her from the Clarion—only to again be plunged into darkness as the taller man’s accomplice quickly covered her head with a thick, black hood. Removing the bindings from her ankles, he then dragged her roughly from the trunk to her feet.

  “So where do you want her, boss?”

  She heard a faint jingling of keys.

  “Lock her in the back room for the time-being. I’ll work it out later.”

  Ruiz had arrived via his private helicopter only thirty minutes earlier. Now he watched through an interior office window as Hogan did as instructed. Nodding in satisfaction to see this, Ruiz unwrapped and lit a celebratory cigar as Marino then walked in his direction.

  He’d every reason to be pleased.

  Acquiring the girl was actually a small bonus, he knew, and for this he could thank the late Mr. Manning. A real possibility had existed that she might accompany the two men into the compound prior to the fatal explosion. Fortunately for her, this hadn’t occurred. She’d been spared their grisly fate.

  At least for a short period of time.

  Ruiz now moved behind the desk and settled into a comfortable chair as Marino entered, greeting his subordinate partner with a congratulatory smile. He intended their unscheduled meeting to be brief.

  “I take it the girl is unharmed?”

  “Relatively so,” answered Marino, taking a chair across from Ruiz. He handed the rolled-up vellum across the desk. “Here’s something else you’ll find interesting. It was on the hotel table when we snatched her.”

  Ruiz unrolled and scanned it, his eyes slightly widening.

  “Indeed, I do,” he said thoughtfully, recognizing its potential significance. “It appears this girl’s background becomes more worthy of our attention at every turn, doesn’t it?” He considered a few possibilities, adding, “I’d even go so far as to speculate we’ll perhaps discover that a relationship of some sort existed with that young Conner fellow well prior to her meeting with Manning. When combined with this painting, it might also go a long way toward explaining what the young man was doing prowling around En-Tex in the middle of the night.”

  Marino watched as Ruix carefully re-rolled the vellum.

  “Quite honestly, sir, I wasn’t expecting to find you here today. A problem?”

  “Not at all. Purely a last minute decision on my part. No reflection on you, but I wished to personally verify that everything is progressing as planned in our new facility. In fact, before your arrival I had Kurtz give me a quick tour of the layout and its operation. You’ve a good man there. Very efficient. He also assured me that our next shipment will go out as scheduled. As we both well know, it’s vital there be no disruptions to the timetable worked out with our banking friends in Zurich.”

  This said, Ruiz abruptly changed the subject.

  “So then, no unforeseen troubles to contend with?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I realize our move was hastily accomplished. And well done, I must add. Quite a feat, in fact. Just out of curiosity, have you found anything lacking here that we didn’t properly plan for?”

  “A few minor things. Nothing crucial to our continued operation.”

  “Such as?”

  “Mostly the restocking of general supplies and such, replacing some of the daily comforts our men have come to expect. Much had to be left behind out of necessity.”

  “Quite understandable,” said Ruiz amiably. “And such things should be a high priority. As well-compensated as our people are, keeping them content and loyal is critical.” He paused before continuing, using the time to take a long puff on his cigar. “Which brings me to a related matter—something I’ve given some thought to over the past few days.”

  “Being what?”

  “For one thing, my friend, has it crossed your mind that perhaps we’ve now become slightly—how shall I say?—overstaffed?”

  Marino gave a wary shake of his head.

  “I don’t follow, sir.”

  Ruiz gestured at the office window with his cigar.

  “For example, take this Hogan fellow out there. I realize he’s been of substantial value to you, of late—what with this Manning business and all—but it now strikes me his future usefulness has become somewhat questionable. Near as I can see, any further need for his particular talents has rapidly diminished to the point of irrelevance. Unless you’ve some information I don’t, I think it’s in our best interests to simply remove him from our payroll—though very discretely, to be sure. In my judgment, we can ill afford to keep someone in our midst when his function has basically become unnecessary to the succ
ess of our present operation.”

  Marino’s brow furrowed slightly.

  “You view him as—as what? Another potential loose thread?”

  “Exactly,” said Ruiz. “In some ways, not unlike Patch. It’s unfortunate, certainly, but I believe his overall value to us has run its course. To be blunt, I feel he’s served his purpose. We should never miss an opportunity to ‘clean house’ as they say. After all, our ultimate responsibility must be solely to ourselves. In the world of good business, past loyalties—no matter how strong—must never supersede the need to ensure one’s future well being. As to the details of his fate, I’ll leave that in your capable hands.”

  Though Ruiz failed to notice, Marino’s nod was visibly halfhearted. He clearly had no compunction about following orders—but he obviously found the nonchalance of this last statement to be more than a little disturbing. If anything, it appeared to raise a troubling question in the back of his mind.

  Ruiz had yet one more order to impart.

  “And in regards to the girl, I think we’d be wise to take a more thoughtful approach to the manner of her questioning. Neither of us wants a repeat of that debacle with Peter Conner. Not to be critical, my friend, but despite your best efforts the youth died revealing virtually nothing. Thus I suggest we abstain from anything quite so heavy-handed. At least initially, anyway. Time is on our side.”

  He tapped the vellum scroll before continuing.

  “Not only does this need to be fully explained, but I’ve no doubts there’s more pertinent information we should acquire if for no other reason than to avoid possible future problems. It really shouldn’t be all that difficult. After all, she’s a mere woman. It may ultimately prove to be of no relevance, of course, yet one can never tell about these things.”

  He caught Marino’s eye, his smile coldly detached.

  “As you know, I never much liked surprises. I strongly suggest you take whatever time is required before permanently removing her from the picture. I’m sure you agree.”