by Gabriel Hunt
“Podnemovitch didn’t get the water or the flag, but he got you,” Gabriel said. “And he saw the bottle destroyed, the water lost. He must have figured we weren’t likely to make sense of the markings on the flag—but just to be safe, Esparza left Podnemovitch behind to make sure we didn’t interfere with his plans.” Gabriel grinned. “Which shows he doesn’t know me very well. I’m not so easy to kill—and when anyone tries, it makes me curious to find out why.”
Escalante said, “Does trouble always follow you so diligently, amigo?”
Gabriel chuckled. “Not always. Just most of the time.” He turned back to Mariella and asked, “How does Esparza know where he’s going now, if you didn’t tell him? We know he doesn’t have the flag.”
“His men finally located Hector and brought him back.” Her face darkened with anger. “This time he told Esparza everything he knows. Esparza gave him no choice. He beat it out of him. I saw some of it. It was truly terrible.
“He’s keeping Hector alive in case he needs any more information from him, although I don’t know what else Hector could tell him. We were prisoners for a time in the same cell, and then later the same truck. That’s how I learned about his involvement in this affair. He confessed to me one night, half boasting, half begging for forgiveness. I told him I’d never forgive him, that none of us would. That his folly had doomed us all. He still seemed to harbor notions, even after everything he’d gone through, that Esparza might let him live, might even reward him. It’s madness.” Mariella leaned back, sipped from one of the canteens. “Does that answer all your questions, Señor Hunt?”
“For now,” Gabriel said.
“And do you believe me?”
“I believe you believe. As for me…I guess you could say I’m reserving judgment.”
Cierra snorted. Mariella gave her an icy glance and then said, “You will all see the truth for yourselves when we reach Cuchatlán.”
The fire had burned low, and shadows filled the cavelike area. The faint light from the flames was a reddish gold glow burnishing the faces of Mariella and Cierra and the two men. It made the men look older, Gabriel thought, but the women—it made them both look more beautiful, if such a thing was possible.
He had heard some astonishing things tonight—things most people would scoff at or dismiss. Cierra clearly felt that way. And maybe she was right.
But maybe she wasn’t.
Certainly Esparza thought she wasn’t.
Either way, it was as Mariella had said: The truth was waiting for them, somewhere out there in the night, in the lost valley of the Mayas.
Chapter 19
When Gabriel woke in the morning, his muscles were stiff from sleeping on the floor of the cave, which had only a thin layer of sand over hard rock. He stirred a little and became aware that there was soft warmth pressing against both sides of his body. He had gone to sleep between Cierra and Mariella, and as he opened his eyes he saw that Cierra had shifted so that she was snuggled up next to him with her back to his chest. Mariella must have moved around some during her sleep, too, because she was pressed against him from behind, with an arm draped over his hip.
Gabriel couldn’t help but grin as he lay there between the two women. On the other side of the cave, Escalante and Tomás were shivering under their coats. He could almost hear his brother’s voice in his head: Only you, Gabriel, could find yourself stuck in a cave on the side of a Guatemalan mountain and still wind up spending the night between a pair of beautiful women.
Of course, one of those women was well over a hundred years old, Gabriel reminded himself, and a married woman to boot. That is, if Mariella’s story was true.
He moved a little more and that woke up Cierra, who let out a soft groan as she stretched. Then she seemed to become aware that she was spooning with Gabriel and pulled away slightly as if she were embarrassed. She looked around, saw Mariella cuddled against Gabriel from behind.
“She didn’t waste any time, did she?”
“Hey, she’s an old married lady,” he said. “Really old.”
“Doesn’t seem to have bothered you.”
Mariella’s hand, meanwhile, lifted from his hip, curled into a fist, and punched him on the shoulder, showing that she was awake and had heard what he’d said.
“Years don’t matter in Cuchatlán,” she said. “And don’t flatter yourself, Señor Hunt.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Gabriel said as he sat up.
Escalante grinned at him. “You slept well, Señor Hunt?”
“I always sleep well. The trouble starts when you wake up.” Gabriel got to his feet and stretched, working some of the kinks out of his muscles. He would have helped Cierra and Mariella up as well, but neither of them seemed interested in his help. They were too busy glaring at each other and at him.
“Any sign of Esparza and his men?” Gabriel asked as he went over to join Escalante and Tomás.
Escalante shook his head. “I thought I heard the sound of his trucks far in the distance a while ago, but I could not be sure.”
“If he’s still in the trucks, he won’t be able to go much farther in them,” Mariella said. “The trail isn’t wide enough for them, and then there’s the Blade of the Gods to consider.”
“What’s that?” Gabriel asked.
“A gorge that borders the valley on the west. It’s narrow and very deep, as if someone had drawn a giant knife through the earth. On the eastern side of the valley, the mountains are impassable. Those two barriers are why Cuchatlán is so isolated, and why it has remained so for all these years.”
“How do you get across this gorge?”
“There is a rope bridge. It will support men and even pack animals, but not trucks.”
Gabriel nodded. This was a primitive land where they were going, but not a primitive people, he reminded himself. They knew quite a bit about the outside world in Cuchatlán, enough so that Mariella had been able to travel to New York City and function just fine. The gown she had worn that night at the Met, while presumably handsewn, could have passed for the height of current style. Hell, it had passed.
“What about between here and there?”
“There are several trails. I can guess which ones Hector is likely to show Esparza. We will take a different path, one that is shorter. And we can move faster, since our group is smaller.”
Gabriel nodded. “We’d better get started. We don’t want to blow what ever advantage we’ve got.”
They made a quick breakfast on the provisions that had been left in the cave, then set out. Mariella led them along the ledge as it twisted downward, and soon they were back in the thick, junglelike forest. She took Escalante’s machete and used it to chop away the vines that clogged the narrow path. This was some sort of game trail, Gabriel thought, and it took a considerable amount of work to widen it enough for them to use it. Mariella’s fatigue shirt was dark with sweat and torn in several places by thorns that had caught it, but when he offered to spell her with the machete, she shook her head.
“No offense, Señor Hunt, but you would soon lose the path. I know where I’m going.”
Unlike the cool, clear air where they had spent the night on the side of the mountain, down here the atmosphere was thick and muggy, and mosquitoes and other insects buzzed and whined around their heads. Once Mariella held up her hand in a signal for the others to stop, and they stood there silent and motionless as a snake twenty feet long and as big around as a man’s leg slithered across the trail in front of them. Another time Mariella halted the group with the whispered warning, “Tigre!” and they waited nervously, listening to the nearby rustling in the brush, until the jaguar moved on.
All five of them were drenched in sweat by the time they trekked through another pass and then climbed down a steep slope, clinging to vines to keep their balance as they did so. “The Blade of the Gods is not far now,” Mariella said as they paused to rest for a moment. “We will be in Cuchatlán in less than an hour.”
That c
ouldn’t come soon enough to satisfy Gabriel, and the others were showing signs of impatience as well.
The jungle remained nearly impenetrable, right up to the point where it suddenly thinned out and they stepped onto a grassy verge about ten yards wide. After that, the ground dropped away into the yawning nothingness of the chasm Mariella had spoken of. The Blade of the Gods was a good name for it. Fifty yards wide, evidently hundreds of feet deep, its sides were perfectly sheer and dropped straight down. The chasm ran perfectly straight as well, due north and south as far as Gabriel could tell. It vanished in both directions, extending farther than the eye could see.
Mariella’s knowledge and instincts had led them unerringly to the only spot where they could cross the chasm. A four-foot-wide bridge made of thick ropes and rough-hewn planks extended across the giant slash in the earth. Cierra muttered, “Dios mio,” when she saw it, and when Gabriel glanced over at her he saw the fear in her eyes. Even Escalante and Tomás, hardened though they were, looked a little nervous at the prospect of crossing that sagging span. A breeze drifted along the gorge and, at its touch, the bridge swayed back and forth.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Mariella said. “I’ve crossed it many times. Many of us who live in Cuchatlán have.” She gave Cierra a slightly superior look. “If you’re worried about it, I’ll go first, so you can see how it’s done.”
“That’s not necessary,” Cierra replied with a defiant toss of her head, though her eyes still showed her ambivalence. “But will it hold all five of us?”
Mariella gestured toward the ropes that were attached to the sturdy pair of posts anchoring each end of the bridge. Those ropes were each as thick as a man’s wrist. “The bridge will support all of us without any problem. I’ve seen fully loaded pack mules go across it.”
“Let’s go, then,” Gabriel said. He was ready to see this so-called lost city of the Mayas for himself, and wanted to have as much time there before Esparza showed up as possible.
Mariella stepped out onto the bridge. The planks had gaps of several inches between them. She moved carefully but confidently, holding the machete in her left hand and the bridge’s guide rope with her right. There was no guide rope on the left, only open air.
The bridge sagged even more under her weight. Gabriel saw the ropes attached to the anchor posts tighten around the wood.
“I’ll go next,” he said. “Cierra, you follow me.” Escalante and Tomás could bring up the rear, Gabriel didn’t care in which order.
Despite his generally steady nerves, he felt a tightening in his belly as he stepped out onto the span. The gaps between the planks gave him a very good view of the hundreds of feet of empty air underneath him. The gorge was a good four hundred feet deep. At the bottom of it ran a stream that appeared to be nothing more than a thread of silver from this height.
Mariella was four planks ahead of him. She glanced back over her shoulder and called, “Are you doing all right?”
“Fine,” Gabriel replied. “No problem.” He moved to the next plank and paused to look back at Cierra. “Come on. It’ll be fine. Just hang on tight to the guide rope and don’t look down.”
Cierra swallowed hard and said, “I think you can count on that, Gabriel.” She moved onto the first plank. She’d reached out and grasped the rope with her right hand before she stepped onto the rough board. It was clear that heights bothered her a great deal. Still, determination was etched on her face as well as fear. She stepped out with her left foot, rested it solidly on the next plank, and moved her right foot to join it.
Slowly, they worked their way out onto the bridge. Escalante and Tomás followed Cierra. Soon, all five of them were above the deep gorge. The ropes had sagged so much that their heads were below the level of the cliff on the far side.
This would be a heck of a place for a trap, Gabriel thought.
As if reading his thoughts, Mariella turned to look back at Gabriel and smiled in encouragement.
That smile disappeared abruptly, to be replaced by a look of shock and horror. Gabriel jerked his head around, knowing that Mariella had seen something behind them.
Alexei Podnemovitch had stepped out of the jungle at the western end of the bridge. He no longer wore the sling for his injured arm and shoulder but had a gun in that hand instead. Podnemovitch leveled the revolver at Gabriel and the others and said, “Not another step, Hunt.”
Chapter 20
Looked like Mariella wasn’t the only one who knew some hidden trails and short cuts.
“What do you want, Podnemovitch?”
The big, broken-nosed man laughed. “What do I want? I want you dead, of course. Why don’t you just go ahead and jump off that bridge? Save us all a lot of trouble, don’t you think?”
“You first,” Gabriel said between gritted teeth.
A couple of other men stepped out of the jungle behind Podnemovitch. One of them carried a rifle, and Gabriel assumed that he was one of Esparza’s men. The other was short and slender and pale and wore a dirty, rumpled suit with no tie. He walked with a limp and used a branch in one hand for support. He laughed harshly and said, “You thought you could get here before me, didn’t you, Mariella? Think you’re so high and mighty, like you’re the queen of Cuchatlán!”
“Hector!” she said. “You…you traitor!”
Hector gave a mockery of a salute. “Soon I will be the ruler of Cuchatlán! Señor Esparza has promised me that I will be in charge here!”
What a fool, thought Gabriel. No one, no matter how self-deluded, should have been stupid enough to believe that promise, if indeed it had been made at all. The greed that had led Hector to betray his people in the first place was now blinding him to the truth of his own situation. He’d already been beaten to within an inch of his life, and as soon as Esparza had everything he wanted, that last inch would be taken from him as well.
But that time hadn’t come yet. Which meant Esparza didn’t have everything he wanted.
Podnemovitch said, “Step aside, Hunt, and let Señora Fargo past. Vladimir has decided that he will spare her life, as well as that of Dr. Almanzar. You and those two bandits, though, are of no worth to him.” He used the revolver to gesture at Escalante and Tomás. “You two, out of the way! Let the women come back off the bridge.”
“Gabriel,” Cierra said, “as soon as we get off the bridge, that bastard will shoot you all.”
In a low voice, he said, “When things start to happen, get around me, then you and Mariella make a run for the far side of the bridge.”
“You mean abandon you?”
“I mean get out of the way so we can make a fight of it.” Gabriel had heard voices not far away and knew that more men were coming. Esparza must have sent a few men hurrying ahead, but now the main party was approaching the Blade of the Gods. If Gabriel and his companions could just get across somehow and cut the ropes supporting the bridge before any of Esparza’s men could cross…
Of course, that would trap them in the valley, he realized, but they could deal with that problem later, once they’d made sure that Esparza couldn’t reach Cuchatlán.
“I’m losing patience, Hunt,” Podnemovitch called. “Let the women off the bridge now.”
Tomás took matters into his own hands then. The short bandit let out a yell of rage and hurled his machete end-over-end at Podnemovitch.
Gabriel brought up his Colt and yelled, “Go!” at Cierra.
Podnemovitch flung himself to the side and fired at Tomás, but the shot missed. At the same time Tomás charged toward the big Russian, bellowing in anger as he leaped from plank to plank, skipping every other one and causing the bridge to shake beneath him.
Cierra hurried toward Gabriel, who crowded against the guide rope to give her room to pass him. He reached out with his free hand to steady her, since she wouldn’t have anything to hold on to.
She didn’t get there, though. One of her feet slipped, and with a terrified cry her leg plunged between the planks. She started to tilt out t
o the side.
In desperation, Gabriel reached for her, caught hold of her shirt. It ripped down the front, the fabric parting under Cierra’s weight. But the shirt didn’t tear completely, and he was able to stop her fall and pull her halfway onto the bridge, which was now swaying worse than before.
Gabriel glanced up as shots roared out. He saw that Tomás had almost reached the end of the bridge, but Podnemovitch had set himself now and he didn’t miss as flame spurted from the muzzle of the big revolver. Tomás jerked and slowed as the slugs plowed into his broad chest. His momentum kept him going all the way off the bridge, however, and he crashed into Podnemovitch.
The other man opened fire with his rifle. Gabriel and Escalante ducked as bullets whistled past them. Escalante brought his Springfield to his shoulder and squeezed off a round. Esparza’s man doubled over as the bullet hit him in the midsection.
But his last shot had found a target, too, as Escalante twisted under its impact. Gabriel was trying to pull Cierra back fully onto the bridge—her leg still dangled through the gap between planks—ashe saw Escalante fall perilously close to the edge. The bandit leader dropped his rifle. It slid off the bridge and fell, turning over and over in the air as it plummeted toward the stream far below.
Escalante went halfway off the bridge before he was able to grab hold of a plank. He pressed his other hand to the wound in his side. Blood pumped between his fingers.
“Hang on!” Gabriel shouted to him.
He struggled to lift Cierra, whose leg was now twisted and caught between the planks. A few feet away Escalante’s fingers scrabbled at the wood as his legs dangled off the side of the bridge.
Somewhere behind Gabriel, Mariella screamed.
He jerked his head around to see that two more of Esparza’s men had emerged from the thick growth at the eastern end of the bridge—the Cuchatlán side—and charged out onto the span. One of them had hold of Mariella and was trying to drag her off the bridge. The other came at Gabriel, his lips curled in a snarl.
