There was an uneasy truce in the area, most of the money to be made not from the local trade, but from exporting to the United States. And the market there was so massive, there was plenty of room for more than one operator. As long as they kept out of each other’s way.
And tequila and whores too often led to disputes, like last week.
“He would like you to have his prize Jag as an expression of his sorrow at your loss.”
El Jefe walked around the car, nodding slowly, clearly appreciating the sleek lines of what Diaz was convinced was the most beautiful car he had ever seen in person.
“It’s like a James Bond car, El Jefe!” He grinned at the others as heads bobbed in agreement.
El Jefe grunted then walked over to one of the guards, holding his hand out. “Gun.” An AR-15 rifle was handed over and El Jefe spun toward the car, emptying the magazine into it, starting from the hood and working his way back. The weapon spent, he tossed it back at the shocked guard as Sanchez backed away, his hands on his head.
“What did you do that for? You realize how expensive that is? You realize that this was a gift?”
El Jefe raised a finger, silencing everyone. “No, this was an insult. You and I both know this piece of shit breaks down all the time on him. He only wanted to unload his problem on me!” He pointed at Sanchez. “Now get your ass out of here before I have my men pump you full of lead.” He started toward the door then stopped. “And take this junk with you.”
One of the minions rushed up to Diaz, holding out a tablet. “Javier. From Lab Three, just south of here.”
Diaz watched the video showing a dozen armed men entering their lab to the south, those inside slaughtered before the video abruptly cut off. “What happened?”
“We think the lab exploded. There were ventilation problems. Probably a spark ignited the whole thing.”
“Okay.” He sucked in a deep breath, hating to be the one to deliver more bad news to El Jefe. “El Jefe, we’ve got a problem.”
El Jefe continued through the living room and back to the hot tub, apparently determined to resume his extra-marital activities. “What is it?”
“It looks like Lab Three was hit. And exploded.”
This brought the man to a halt. Diaz showed him the video. El Jefe sighed deeply, clearly battling the rage building within. “Survivors?”
Diaz tapped a few icons, another display appearing. “Looks like we’ve got a few.”
El Jefe lowered into the hot tub. “Okay, check it out. Clean up the mess.”
“By clean up…”
“Kill any survivors, dump the bodies near town. I don’t want anything tracing back to us.”
“Yes, sir.”
A blonde dipped under the water. “Oh, and when you’re done, take the boys out. Show them a good time. I don’t want to see you back before tomorrow.”
Diaz grinned. “Yes, sir!”
17
Pacific Coastal Region
Maya Highlands, Maya Empire
1092 AD
Balam Canek glanced over at Nelli, standing at the edge of the crowd, her arms folded, her eyes downcast. She stole a glance at him, catching his eyes, and they both exchanged a slight smile he hoped would be missed by those gathered. They had lost several good men in the battle, but the enemy had suffered a great defeat. He held the green talisman high, tilted his head back, and roared at the gods. The thunderous response from the villagers echoed in his chest, and as he returned his gaze to them, he caught a glimpse of the now empty refugee camp, his father’s last orders fulfilled while they had been in battle.
His chest ached for the loss of his friend, Kawil, but there had been no choice. Clearly the gods were angry, having dispatched an army of demons to their shores, though the fact they had been allowed to win the battle suggested there was mercy in the hearts of their gods, his father’s actions of expelling those who had broken the faith, perhaps the act of contrition the gods needed to forgive them.
Yet the battle wasn’t over.
As if sensing his thoughts, one of the lookouts left at the beach sprinted from the trees, racing toward him.
“Sir, I have word from the beach.” The runner rested his hands on his knees as he hunched over, gasping for air.
“What is it?”
“They haven’t left the beach, but more are arriving and supplies are coming from the belly of the floating…” He paused, confused. “I’m sorry, Chief, but I don’t know what to call them. They float like a boat, but are as big as an island.”
They float like a boat…
And then it made sense. It wasn’t floating islands or giant sea creatures he had been seeing, but boats. Boats bigger than any he could have possibly imagined before today.
These demons are truly powerful!
“How will we defeat them, Chief? We are but a few!”
Those gathered repeated the question in murmurs, fear and doubt gripping them all.
And they were right.
They were lucky. They had surprised the enemy, the servants of the gods clearly not expecting to be challenged by mere mortals. And they wouldn’t be so easily defeated next time, not by such a small group.
He turned to a throng of young boys, too young to fight effectively. “Go to the surrounding villages, tell them what has happened, and have them send all their warriors to fight. Tell them they must be here by daybreak, or all could be lost.”
The boys exchanged glances, the names of nearby villages whispered among them as they divvied up the responsibilities, then they were gone.
He turned to those who remained. “We may have won this battle, but they will be coming for this tomorrow.” He held up the talisman.
“But Chief, shouldn’t we give it back to them? Perhaps then they will leave us alone?”
Murmurs of assent washed through his subjects.
“They killed my father, our chief, though he had not harmed them with anything but words. They are on our shores uninvited, displaying nothing but their evil visage and their weapons. They did not come here as friends, but as enemies, and nothing that has happened here today, will change that. They will come for us, even if we return their talisman. We must be ready for them, and we must defeat them, or we all shall die.”
“But how?”
Balam jabbed a finger at the ground. “This is our home.” He pointed at the trees. “This is our forest. We know this land like the back of our hands, and we will use this knowledge to fight them. Off the open beach and among the trees we grew up in, they will lose their numerical advantage. And once the others arrive to help us, these demons will lose. We know they can be killed, therefore we know they are not gods. They may have been sent by the gods, but they are not gods! We will prevail, and when we do, exact our revenge for the death of my father! The forest will run red with their blood!”
18
South of Tepich, Mexico
Present Day
“There!”
Laura pointed from between the seats, Acton cranking the wheel to the left, propelling them down a nearly invisible road cut into the jungle. The smoke had mostly cleared, the intensity of whatever blast that had occurred, evidently burning itself out quickly. That fact, and the fact they were now off the road, thus likely eliminating a car accident as the cause, had her nervous, Morales’ warning of a possible drug lab now more plausible.
Acton slammed the brakes on, bringing them to a skidding halt. The devastation was shocking. The trees were all knocked down around them, flattened like she had seen in footage of nuclear testing, though only for about fifty feet from what appeared to be a crater, whatever had once been there now nothing but smoking ruins. Bodies were strewn about, some burnt horribly, others mangled messes, tossed about like the Devil’s playthings.
“What the bloody hell happened here?” They climbed out, Laura walking to the edge of the crater and staring down into the pit, cinder block walls mostly still in place, the shattered remains of tables and other equipment strew
n about, charred bodies blasted to the outer walls.
“I think Eduardo was right. This was probably a drug lab.” Acton pointed at some of the bodies. “These guys all have guns. Guards, maybe?”
Reading grunted. “Or a rival gang hit the place. The chemicals involved in these labs are highly volatile. If a stray bullet hit the wrong thing…” He paused and frowned. “Boom.”
Laura stepped back, unable to look anymore. “I don’t think anyone survived this.”
A sound from the woods had her rethinking her last statement. She beckoned to the others and they headed for the edge of the jungle where the trees were still standing. She pushed aside some branches and stopped, half a dozen women huddled together, whimpering, tears streaking their faces, faces showing evidence of minor wounds probably received in the blast. They cried out and backed away as Reading appeared beside her. Laura held out a hand, stopping him, then approached the women.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now.”
19
Pacific Coastal Region
Maya Highlands, Maya Empire
1092 AD
Cheng Jun advanced several paces then raised a hand, the men behind him stopping as he listened for any sign of the enemy.
Nothing.
And it had been that way for the past hour, their slow advance through the thick forest hampered not only by the dense undergrowth, but their fear of walking into a hail of poison darts.
“Look!” hissed one of the men, and Cheng turned to see where he was pointing. He could see nothing at first, then as his eyes adjusted, he saw the distinct outline of a head and shoulder sticking out from behind a large tree. The shadow disappeared.
“We’re being watched.”
Captain Tai came up from behind, adorned in the armor of the Admiral, a distasteful act in Cheng’s opinion. Nothing but Tai’s eyes were revealed by the helmet he now wore, and Cheng had to admit he appeared intimidating. Cheng adjusted his own mask, most of the soldiers now wearing anything that would cover exposed skin from the deadly darts their enemy seemed so adept at firing. And it made for an uncomfortable foray. He was already drenched in sweat, as were the others, the forest hot and damp, the several layers of clothing soaked through and clinging to his skin. Though he’d rather bake than die in agony from the tiniest of pricks.
“Pursue!”
Cheng jumped forward, the order foolish, though not to be disobeyed. He could hear the footfalls of his comrades as it seemed every stick on the forest floor was trampled, their approach anything but stealthy. Yet he understood the thinking. Capture this one man, and he could lead them to where their enemy was hiding.
Someone cried out to his left and he glanced over his shoulder, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, when his right foot gave way, someone beside him disappearing from sight. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed the arm of another as he struggled to regain his balance, his eyes staring in horror at the pit that had opened beside him, sharpened sticks embedded in the bottom, now impaling one of his comrades.
“Careful, they’ve laid traps for us!” he cried, and the mad rush quickly slowed, someone else screaming to his right.
“Halt!” ordered Captain Tai, and they all froze. “Shields!”
Balam Canek motioned silently to the others and raised his blowgun to his lips, those to his left and right doing the same. He stepped out from behind the sturdy tree shielding him and took aim. He inhaled then placed his mouth over the pipe, rapidly exhaling, sending the poisoned dart spiraling toward these demon spawn, his heart pounding at the sight of their leader, still adorned in gold, alive once again.
It was disheartening to know he couldn’t be killed, at least not with the poison. Yet should they eliminate his guard, and bring him down once again, fire would be the order of the day.
But first, they had to win.
Hundreds of darts flew silently through the air, and several of their enemy collapsed, though not as many as he had hoped. Today, they appeared to be wearing thick hides and masks, no doubt to protect themselves from the poison. He fired again, reaching down and pulling another from his belt, careful not to poke himself.
No more dropped, this tactic clearly failing.
He motioned over his head to fall back, and they quietly retreated into the darkness, leaving their enemy frozen, wondering if the attack would continue.
And with each delay, it bought them time, time for the warriors of the surrounding villages to arrive.
20
Universidad Veracruzana Archaeological Site
South of Tepich, Mexico
Present Day
“You stay with them, keep them calm. I’ll go tell Eduardo that we’re back.”
Acton nodded as Laura headed for the discovery site, he and Reading already tending to the minor wounds suffered by the women the moment they had come to a halt. The ride back had been tight, the six women nearly stacked in the back seat of the SUV, Reading doing the driving while she sat in her husband’s lap. She pushed through the thick jungle, following the trampled path to the discovery site, and emerged from the trees.
Morales rushed toward her. “Thank God you’re okay!”
Laura waved. “You were right. It was a drug lab. Completely destroyed.”
Morales’ eyes widened as his face paled slightly. He turned to the students, saying something in Spanish that resulted in an increased flurry of activity.
“We found six survivors.”
Everyone froze, turning to stare at her.
“Ahh, what did you do with them?”
Laura’s eyebrows popped. “Well, we couldn’t exactly leave them there.”
“Please tell me they’re not here.”
“Well, of course they are. Like I said, we couldn’t leave them there, so we took them with us. We’ll take them into town.”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no.” Morales paced in a circle, pulling on his beard, working himself into a panic. “Why did you do that? Why did you bring them here?” he muttered, clearly not expecting an answer. He froze then spun toward her. “We have to get out of here, now.”
His demeanor now had her on edge as well. The students were clearly scared, and Morales was terrified. They knew their country and this area better than she did, suggesting perhaps his panic was justified.
Maybe bringing them with us was a bad idea.
There had been the option of simply calling for help, yet at the time, it had seemed wise to take these frightened women away from the danger. And it had been the right move. No one could convince her that they had been wrong. These women appeared innocent to her, clearly in need of help, and no threat to anyone.
“Let’s go, now!”
The students grabbed their already packed bags, and a line quickly formed, pushing through the jungle, toward the waiting vehicles. Laura hung back, bringing up the rear with Morales. They arrived in the cleared area, the rear of the pickup truck already filled with the survivors, Reading and Acton waiting for them. The students piled into the second vehicle, quickly filling it to capacity, four more squeezing into the cab of the pickup.
“There’s not enough room!” cried Morales, pulling again at his beard.
“They can come back for us.” Laura handed one of the students her satphone. “Keep this with you in case something goes wrong. When you get to town, send the police back to get us.”
“Okay, señora.”
Laura stepped back, the engine roaring to life, when the survivors all cried out, reaching for her, an explosion of words erupting. “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking at Morales then Acton.
“Looks like they want you to come with them.”
“I guess you’ve made quite the impression on them.” Acton stepped closer. “Go with them. There’s room.”
“But I want to stay with you.”
He shook his head. “And I want you out of here. We don’t know what’s going on. The sooner you’re safe in town, the sooner I’ll breathe easy.”
She frow
ned, but nodded. “Fine. I’ll call Greg when I get there and let him know what’s going on. And the embassy, just in case.”
Acton smiled. “Good thinking.” He gave her a kiss. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” She reached up and was pulled into the back of the truck, the women squeezing together tightly to make room for her, smiles all around as their savior was now with them. The two trucks peeled away in a cloud of dust, Laura unable to see her beloved, praying he would be safe, and she would see him again, very soon.
21
Quintana Roo Cartel Lab #3
South of Tepich, Mexico
Javier Diaz stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the open pit that only hours ago had been one of their most profitable labs, producing over five million dollars’ worth of fentanyl a month. But no matter. They would build another one, and production would be back to normal within two weeks.
This was what the government couldn’t understand. They could take down the drug labs, but unless they removed the demand, there would always be incentive, and massive profits, to rebuild, and rebuild quickly. If he knew El Jefe, he’d rebuild even bigger so he could produce even more. This would be a minor hiccup, there still another dozen labs hidden throughout the region, still producing.
“Hey, Javier, take a look at this. I recognize him.”
Diaz walked over to one of the bodies impaled on a branch nearby. His eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that Carlos, one of Galano’s men?”
“Yup.”
“That sonofabitch. The balls on him! To give a gift to El Jefe while hitting one of our labs? Unbelievable!”
“I guess El Jefe was right. It was an insult, after all.”
Wrath of the Gods (A James Acton Thriller, #18) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 5
