by Howard Upton
Buddy studied Bill for a moment wondering how much he should reveal to his friend, but said nothing. He pulled the Bud Light to his mouth and took a long, slow drink. A burp resonated somewhere deep in his chest, and he exhaled the bitter vapors through his nose.
“Young Buck, thaumaturgy is a fancy word for magic. But it isn’t your run-of-the-mill hocus pocus bullshit you’ll see in Vegas on a Wednesday night before all the good strip clubs bring in their pretty gals. This is the real deal…like African juju and island voodoo. You hear me?” Buddy looked seriously into Bill’s eyes and continued. “This is the shit you saw when you were traipsing around the jungles of Sudan and Uganda, only worse.”
Bill listened to his old war colleague, now slightly intrigued, but not convinced that the American government would have any interest in some piece of jewelry that could supposedly be used as a destructive force against an enemy. Well, maybe that wasn’t an accurate thought. The fucked-up American government might be interested in anything that would give them a militaristic or opportunistic advantage in the world, but he doubted with all the technology at their disposal that this particular thing would interest them.
“You said it was Chinese. If it wasn’t on loan from China, how’d it get to a Mexican museum?”
“Well, we know it was discovered in the old Mayan temple at Chichen Itza in the Yucatan Peninsula. And maybe my saying it is Chinese isn’t one hundred percent accurate. The photos we’ve seen of the artifact suggest it is of Chinese origin, somehow influenced by Chinese mythology. And some of the hieroglyphs are also very Chinese, at least a very old form of Chinese writing.”
Bill chewed on Buddy’s words for a couple of minutes before getting up and walking to the fridge for another beer. He opened the door and picked up a can and raised his eyebrows questioningly to Buddy.
“No thanks, Buck. I’m driving. Best if I don’t push my luck.”
Bill shrugged and popped the top of the beer. “Suit yourself.
“Chichen Itza? You mean the pyramid built by the Mayans? The same people who made the calendar that had everyone going bat shit crazy in 2012? That Chichen Itza?”
“The one and the same, Young Buck. Those jungle monkeys really knew how to fuck with the minds of advanced people didn’t they?” Buddy laughed at his own crass joke.
“So, what about the magic? What does this cartouche do? How does it work? And what the hell does it look like?
Buddy pondered the questions he knew his old friend had asked. “We don’t know all the answers to that either, Billy. We just know there’s a particular someone who was spotted in the general vicinity of the relic prior to its disappearance. The rumors of the jewel’s powers were always considered just that...rumors, but given the special interest from this particular party, we’ve been asked to recover it, but to do so discreetly.”
“Wait. You told me this cartouche could be used as a WMD, but you don’t know how, or even if, it works. And the government wants to keep its rediscovery on the QT. Somehow, I don’t think you’re being completely honest with me, Buddy, and you know I don’t like walking into a shit-storm half blind. And before you get the wrong impression, I’m not agreeing to this seek-and-fucking-find mission.”
“I’m telling you everything I know, Buck. There are folks who want this thing to see if they can figure out its use. That’s what I’ve been told.”
“So, who was in Mexico when the cartouche went missing?” asked Billy.
“Dugan,” Buddy spat.
“Dugan? Dan Dugan? I thought that son of a bitch died a long time ago, Buddy.” Evers stated as the incredulity rose in his voice.
“Nah. We’ve been keeping tabs on him for a few years now. He’s made a fortune running guns across the Mexican border and the U.S. has sometimes sought out his services when certain things needed to be done clandestinely, if you get my drift.”
Bill half chortled. “Yeah, like Fast and Furious, huh? Sneaking U.S. guns across the border to entice cartels into the open so you could take them down. But you didn’t know those cartels would wind up killing innocent Americans did you? Are those the kind of things you use this douche bag for, Buddy?”
“We all have a role to play, Buck. It’s the end game we all have to keep in mind, especially when we’re forced to work with the assholes of the world.” Buddy didn’t want to remind Evers about their recent conversation on the topic of cynicism, and its ability to eat at a man’s heart and soul. He was positive the look on his face let him know he was thinking it though.
“How do you know Dugan was in Mexico?”
“We keep tabs on him just in case he gets out of line. He’s a dangerous man and we don’t need him going totally rogue. He was traveling with a fake passport and using the name Haden. Seems as though he had a hand in breaking into the National Museum of Anthropology to take the jewel.
“After he got out of the military, he began building a personal network while working as a Blackwater contractor in Iraq about eight years ago. We found out later that he financed small arms sales to AQ on the side through poppy purchases in Afghanistan that found its way to the open market in Turkey. His network was strung out all through the Middle East, and he made a fortune buying and selling drugs and guns.
The military started getting wind of the gun trade inside Iraq and figured there was an insider running it. When the investigation started, Dugan’s camp in Baghdad was hit by a mortar, and he suddenly disappeared. The insurgency was in full swing and the military didn’t have time to investigate his disappearance further, so they wrote him off as a casualty of war.
We got word a couple of years ago that someone had started up similar activities in Mexico. At first everyone thought the usual suspects were at play – MS13 or the drug cartels. Then we received word that a dirty bomb had been smuggled into Mexico and we knew we were dealing with someone with some serious connections. Fortunately, some of our undercover boys were able to track down the device and retrieve it, but no one knew who ordered it brought to Mexico. I had suspected Dugan for quite some time. Then we caught him on a surveillance video in Puerto Vallarta about eighteen months ago.”
Bill nodded, still not fully convinced Buddy was telling him the whole truth.
“I can see on your face you still aren’t sure whether you want to do this or not, Buck. You’ll make an even million, half when you accept the job, half when we get the cartouche safely to us.”
Bill took another sip of his beer, swallowed then narrowed his eyes as he studied his old mentor.
“I have a question for you, Buddy. It doesn’t have anything to do with this job, but I want to know what happened to you when we got back to the States. I haven’t seen you in a long time and wondered if you had dropped off the face of the Earth.”
Buddy smiled, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes.
“When I got home I thought about everything I had done and everything we’d seen over there, Buck. I’ve always believed in a higher power, even after all the shit we’d been through. Something called me to preaching the word and that’s what I did.”
Incredulously, Billy looked at his old friend and remarked, “So you came home and decided to be a preacher. Tell me Buddy, how does a man go from being a spook to a preacher and back again to being a spook?”
Buddy got up from the table and walked toward the door, put his hand on the door knob then stopped. He stared out the window for a moment and, without turning around, said, “I figured out it was a lot easier to take souls than to save them, Buck. Pays a lot more too. You think about this offer. I’ll be in touch with you in two days for your answer.”
He turned the knob and walked outside, closing the door behind him.
Zacatecas, Mexico
July 12, 2013 8:18 P.M.
Rafael nursed his Modelo Negro, his favorite beer, as he sat quietly at a table in the back of a local restaurant. He had agreed to meet up with Haden in Monterrey on the 22nd of July after calling him to let him know he had the cartouche. Monterrey was a larg
e Mexican city just over 900 kilometers north of Mexico City, straight up Mexico Highway 57, and he decided to begin his journey sooner rather than later.
Rafael had elected to take his time and stay off the main roads as much as possible, as he knew Federalis would be setting up check points in an attempt to retrieve the stolen artifact. He also realized if he were caught with the jewel and a few thousand United States dollars, prison would be the least of his worries. The Federalis were notorious for taking what they wanted and leaving dead people in their wake. There was no way he was giving up his earnings, nor life for that matter, if he could avoid it.
He turned west opting to stay in Zacatecas for a few days. Zacatecas, an old silver mining town, was relatively small, but it wasn’t so small that locals would take an interest in him. He took note of the massive number of buildings with gang graffiti on them and made sure he watched for anyone flying gang colors. There was no need to bring attention to himself or invite more trouble into his life.
He checked into the Hotel Posada de la Moneda, a stately and clean hotel for just under forty dollars a night. The stress he had been under after stealing the cartouche, the drive out of the city, and the hot Mexican sun had taken a toll on him. He slept for nearly fourteen hours.
After rousing, he showered, shaved, changed clothes and put on a dinner jacket, not so much for its fashionable statement, but more to hide the Ruger he tucked in his shoulder harness. He took a long look in the mirror to make sure the bulk of the pistol didn’t show. Satisfied that it was out of sight, he opened the door to his room, glancing right then left, and walked to the elevator.
Famished and thirsty, he asked the desk clerk where he could find a decent restaurant and was given directions to La Casa Rosa. After making sure he had plenty of pesos in his wallet, he set out for the restaurant. He had hidden his U.S. money in a vent in his hotel room just in case he was harassed by anyone along the way.
As he took another drink of his beer, he allowed his fingers to slide inside his pants pocket where he kept the cartouche. Casually, he looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Most of the people in the restaurant were drinking and talking to friends; none were paying any attention to the newcomer. He pulled the ancient jewel out and felt it vibrate, as though it had been awakened. Confused by this sensation, he studied the strange raised markings on the silver pendant, mesmerized by its simplicity and beauty. Rafael wondered how old it was, and why Haden wanted it so badly.
He caressed the cartouche with his thumb and forefinger, feeling a strange life force flowing through it. He broke his gaze for a moment to look around the room and noticed a man glancing his way. Pinche cabron he thought to himself. Without looking up, he replaced the relic in his pocket and took another swig of his beer.
The waitress brought him a plate of enchiladas verdes and sliced avocado. He doused the enchiladas with the fiery-hot green pepper sauce she brought with his meal, and then began eating…slowly. Rafael decided he would stretch out the meal and have another beer in hopes the guy eye-balling him would get bored and leave.
While he ate, he watched the man in his peripheral to assure he didn’t attempt to get any closer. He also allowed his mind to drift back three nights prior when he stole the cartouche.
He left the museum after scouting it out, knowing he would be seen on the security cameras. After returning to his car, he drove to a local gas station to use the restroom. He bolted the door and changed into a new set of clothes he had packed in a duffle before leaving his hotel. Once he slipped on a navy blue shirt and a pair of neatly pressed black slacks, he stuffed his old clothes into the duffel bag. Finally, he slipped into a comfortable pair of black loafers and pushed a baseball cap onto his head before returning to his car.
He drove around Mexico City for a couple of hours memorizing construction zones and heavy traffic areas. His heart thudded in his chest and sweat rolled down his face despite the car’s air conditioning. The realization of what he was about to attempt was making him nervous and jumpy. He knew he would have to get a hold of himself before arriving at the museum.
Around 4:00 p.m., his nerves now under control, he returned to the parking lot he had found earlier, put his car in park, but left it running while he completed his disguise. He checked himself in the mirror to make sure the fake mustache was on straight and looked real. His disguise complete, he reached into the back seat and grabbed a cane and the bimorph opto-mechanical deflector that he had secured in a digital camera bag. It fit snuggly in one of the bag’s pockets; its size no larger than a lady’s compact mirror.
For a brief second he wondered if the device would work as well as Haden had described, or if the American was setting him up. He brushed the thought away before his heart began pounding again. There was little doubt that the man wanted the cartouche, and less still that he would want additional security measures taken by the museum to protect it further, which would make it harder for him to acquire it in the future.
He opened his car door and picked up the cane. A man’s ability to disguise himself was relatively easy, but convincingly changing his gait was all but impossible. Between the fake limp he had incorporated as he walked and the cane he used to support himself, the problem was solved.
Once he crossed the street, he dropped his head and pulled his cap over his brow a little further to avoid any surveillance cameras getting a good shot of his face. He crossed the sidewalk and limped into the opening in front of the entrance to the museum. A large set of stairs to the underground parking deck lay just behind him. Several tourists were going in and coming out of the museum while one courteous man held the door for him after watching him approach the entrance. Rafael nodded his appreciation but didn’t voice it. He thought it better not to speak, thereby eliminating one more thing for someone to remember him by when speaking with the police.
He had his ticket stub purchased earlier that morning and knew he could use it to re-enter the museum, as the passes were good for a day. His hand reached into his pocket for the ticket and showed it to the guard who directed him to the metal detector. Placing the camera, his cane and car keys on the belt, he struggled through the detector, his limp exaggerated, while another guard opened his camera case to examine it.
The guard carefully removed the camera and studied it for a moment, then looked inside the case itself. Rafael kept a smile on his face as the guard continued to poke around inside the camera case even though his heart was about to jump out of his chest. If the guard found the bi-morph deflector, he would explain it away as being some fancy part of his camera that he had not figured out how to use. Fortunately, when the guard opened the compartment housing the deflector, he gave it no more than a cursory glance before zipping the case closed.
Satisfied that the camera posed no threat, the guard gently placed it back into the bag and handed it and the other items to Rafael. He nodded his appreciation to the guard then began limping into the museum. He made his way toward the area closest to the conservation lab. The museum was scheduled to close at 6:00 p.m., so taking his time and appearing interested in the ancient art and artifacts was crucial.
At 5:45, he spotted the storage closet he had seen earlier. The camera was situated such that the closet was not in its line of sight. He looked around to assure he was alone, then pulled his camera case off his shoulder, opened a small pocket and removed a little screw driver similar to one that would be used to tighten screws on eye glasses. He stuck the flat end into the space between the door and the striker and pushed it against the latch, easily opening the door. As quickly and quietly as he could, he entered the storage closet and settled himself. Rafael knew there would be a final check by security to make sure everyone was out of the museum, and he would probably be in the closet for a while.
At long last he heard footsteps fall outside the small closet. He heard the guard make the circle around the room and the many exhibits of ancient Mexico. The footsteps grew closer to the closet then suddenly stopped. Ra
fael held his breath and prepared himself to attack should the guard open the door. An eternity passed before he could hear the footsteps echo down the hall to the next chamber. Rafael waited another hour before opening the door.
Once the hour had passed, Rafael opened the door and crept along the wall careful to keep his hat pulled down and continue his limping gait toward the elevator leading to the conservation lab. After pressing the button directing him to the lab, the Otis elevator sprang to life and transported him down one floor. The stainless steel doors opened and as they did, he glanced in either direction looking for cameras. There were none. He saw the door marked Laboratorio de Conservacion and walked straight to it. After another quick glance around the hallway, he looked at the lock on the door. It was nothing fancy, just a simple keyed access on a door handle. Apparently, security was not necessary in an area that never saw a tourist.
Using the same screwdriver he had used earlier, he pried the latch back and opened the door. Quietly, he closed the door behind him then opened the camera case. He removed the bimorph deflector and allowed it to self-calibrate.
He waited three long minutes until he was sure it was acclimated to the ambient room temperature before looking for the cartouche. It didn’t take him long to spot the little piece of jewelry, approximately an inch-and-a-half long by one-half inch wide nestled upon a wooden display stand. Such an insignificant thing, but exactly as Haden’s picture had detailed it.
Sweat began staining his shirt and his hands shook as he moved to place the deflector in front of the heat sensor that protected the cartouche. He had to be especially cautious that he did not accidentally get ahead of the deflector, causing the alarm to be set off. Rafael made sure the small stand on the deflector was locked in place, its two legs angled correctly to absorb and deflect the sensor itself. The nanotechnology was developed to absorb laser energy and to shed heat. There was no doubt in his mind the United States government had developed the device.
