Thieves Till We Die (16 page)

‘And we should know,' said Motti with feeling. ‘Since we musta studied just about every Aztec relic in the world.'

‘There are still many more documents to check,' Con reminded him.

Patch clutched his head in both hands. ‘I just wish everyone would stop shouting.'

At that moment, an alarm went off – high pitched and piercing. Motti swore and jumped up from the table. ‘Intruders!' he shouted, and ran over to some controls beside the lift. ‘They've breached the perimeter defences.'

‘Not again!' Jonah looked anxiously at Con, and they both stood up. Patch on the other hand, did his best to curl up into a ball.

Motti switched off the alarm. ‘Need to hear myself think,' he muttered.

Then Jonah realised he could hear the sound of the lift descending. ‘Jesus, they're coming down here!'

Con stared at Motti in horror. ‘How could they get past every sensor in –'

‘I dunno!' he hissed, rushing to Coldhardt's desk
and elbowing Jonah aside so he could get the security controls on-screen. The twelve monitors on the wall of the hub switched on, showing views around the ranch and grounds. Nothing untoward showed on any of them. ‘How many of them are there? Where're they hiding?'

Jonah looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. ‘That lift will be here any minute.'

Patch was still holding his head. ‘I knew I should never have got up today.'

‘They can't open those lift doors unless they've got the proper passcode,' said Motti, calling up a different menu.

‘Tye could have given it to Sixth Sun,' said Con.

‘She wouldn't,' said Jonah automatically.

‘C'mon, we've got to get out the back way,' said Motti.

Patch frowned. ‘Back way?'

‘After the Siena base got busted that time, Coldhardt insisted on having a hidden exit built into every hub. It's in his data centre through there.'

The lift doors glided open – to reveal Tye standing inside. Everyone stared, speechless, as she took an uncertain step forwards and collapsed face-first on the floor.

‘She's hurt!' Jonah shouted. ‘Come on!'

Motti grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Don't touch her, man.'

‘Are you crazy?' Jonah pulled himself free. ‘You can see she's –'

‘It's a trick,' Motti insisted, looking round at Con and Patch, who were also hanging back. ‘She's
brought her Sixth Sun buddies straight to us.'

‘Right, and I suppose that's just ketchup all over her top?' Jonah hurried over and crouched beside her. ‘Tye? Can you hear me?' She was sweating hard and breathing shallow, and his stomach turned as he clocked the messy wound in her side. ‘We need bandages or something. Who knows first aid?' Jonah stared up at the others, still staying put the other side of the hub. ‘For God's sake, we've got to do something!'

‘Indeed we have.' Coldhardt stood framed in the doorway to the data centre, his face unreadable. ‘The question is – what does she deserve?'

The night passed for Tye in a delirious blur. She remembered Jonah and Patch carrying her to a bland, spacious room with white walls and ceiling and dark floorboards. She realised it was
her
room, though there was nothing but her coat and her suitcase to say so. She'd spent more nights in Ramez's penthouse than she'd ever spent here.

They'd laid her on the bed. A doctor, some old guy Coldhardt produced out of nowhere, had come up and warned her that the needle would hurt. But by then she felt like she was floating, could hardly feel a thing. There had been some talk of how much blood she'd lost, and Tye thought back to the way it had stained the seat of the car she'd stolen to get here. She felt a twinge of guilt for the owner – then she realised that Coldhardt would have already arranged for the car to be destroyed. The ranch was the only property anywhere near to where she'd stolen it, and an
international criminal would hardly welcome the police making inquiries about a missing Buick.

Strange dreams licked around the edges of her unsettled sleep. She pictured Ramez laid out across the bonnet of the car, Traynor with a knife held over his head. But then Ramez was Jonah, yelling her name, disgust in his eyes. She was begging him not to hate her, but now he was Ramez again and he was telling her he loved her, how they would go away some place and be together, but Motti and Con were barring the way, their faces livid with rage and bruises, and Patch was like a puppy yapping round her ankles, and Coldhardt was driving the Buick straight for her, forcing her to run towards a misshapen figure, a huge, terrifying figure who stank of the dead, who wore hands and hearts and skulls around her severed neck, whose claws were swiping down to tear her flesh and –

‘No!' Tye shouted, sat bolt upright – and almost passed out with pain. She felt the skin just below her bra, brushed her fingers over the stitches, the surgical stubble sprouting from the puckered wound. Wincing, she closed her eyes and sank carefully back into her pillow.

The door to her room opened a little. ‘Tye?' Jonah stuck his head through the gap. ‘Are you OK? Can I come in?'

Tye nodded, pulling the covers up over her chest, too glad to see him to worry about how much of a mess she must look. She opened her mouth but found she couldn't think of a thing to say to him.

He didn't seem to mind, just looked down at her, his blond hair all mussed up, his smile crooked with
concern. ‘We've been worried to death. Is the pain bad?'

‘Well, it's not good.' She forced a smile. ‘But it is good to see you.'

‘Course it is!' He grinned back at her, and held up a thermos. ‘Tea? Hot and sweet.'

‘Sounds good.'

‘And that's just the waiter.' He grinned and poured her a cup. ‘You pushed yourself too hard getting here. You lost a lot of blood.'

‘I had an argument with a broken window. I had to leave quick before –'

Jonah shushed her, dragged a chair over and sat beside her. ‘You can tell us all about it later. The important thing is that you made it back to us. Right now, you need to rest.'

She sipped the hot tea and looked to the window, where pink streaks were flaming across the dark grey sky. ‘Oh God, how long have I been out? Is that sunrise or sunset?'

‘Sunrise.' His smile faltered a little. ‘Though I hear there's nothing like the sunset.'

‘You got my message, then.' Tye gulped the tea too quickly, burning her mouth.
Can't handle emotions right now
. ‘Where's Coldhardt? I've got to speak to him.'

‘He wants to speak to you too. In the hub. Soon as you're feeling well enough.' He shrugged. ‘So just tell me when you're ready, and I'll tell him.'

Tye checked the clock on the wall. It was only six something. ‘Have you been up all night?'

‘Had stuff to do,' Jonah explained. ‘Trying to make
a picture out of little lines and squiggles. There was this Aztec statuette, see, with weird carvings on it, and …' He must have caught the frown on her face. ‘Long story, and an even longer process. But I think I've cracked it now.'

‘What picture did you get?'

‘Looks like four trees and a giant egg.'

Tye blinked. ‘And what the hell does that mean?'

‘I think it's a code. Either that or I've got it completely wrong.' He was drifting off into his own thoughts, burbling aloud – he was always like this when he was trying to crack something. ‘But it must be right – the shadows cast at the start of sunset pick out the lighter veins, and if you trace them and slot them all together, that's what you get – an egg surrounded by four trees. So what the hell does it mean?'

‘Jonah, I have no idea what you're on about.' Tye squeezed his wrist. ‘But that's good. That's
normal
. It's good to be back.'

‘But
are
you back? To stay, I mean?' His eyes looked wide and hopeful. ‘What happened to Ramez?'

‘Something bad is going to happen to him. We've got to stop it.'

‘We?' Jonah's eyes hardened. ‘Right. Got it.
That's
why you've come back.'

She sighed and put down the tea. ‘Do the guys hate me? Think I'm a fink?'

‘I stuck up for you. I didn't want to believe it.'

‘Believe what?'

‘That you would pick Ramez over us.' He slumped back in his chair. ‘Was I wrong?'

Tye felt a spark of anger. ‘You have no idea what
I've been through.'

‘Yeah? So come on and tell me. Tell me how hard you've had it, lying in your bathrobe with your old flame!'

‘What happened to, “Tell us about it later, you need to rest”, Jonah?' She closed her eyes, suddenly so, so tired. ‘I guess this is what I'm going to get from
all
of you, isn't it?'

‘Must have been
sooo
good, being back with your true love. I can guess how the two of you passed the time.'

‘Can you?' She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘He's going to die, Jonah. It's some crazy ritual, he's going to be sacrificed to an Aztec goddess or something –'

‘Sacrificed?' The anger suddenly drained from Jonah's face; he looked puzzled like a kid in class. ‘
Perfect
sacrifice?'

‘How would you know that?' asked Tye slowly. ‘What do you know about it? What's been going on?'

‘I guess we've all got some catching up to do.'

The silence that grew between them was thick enough to smother.

Jonah looked down at the floorboards. ‘You need some sleep. I should go.'

Like I could ever sleep now
. She nodded. ‘Tell Coldhardt I'll come to the hub at eight-thirty.'

‘I will. See you then.' He crossed to the door, hesitated there. ‘I really missed you, Tye.'

I missed you too
, she wanted to say.
So much
. But the words wouldn't leave her lips, and after a few seconds he went through the door and closed it quietly behind him.

It was only minutes later, when she was certain he wasn't coming back, that Tye allowed the first tears to fall.

Somehow, it didn't seem real to Jonah that Tye was back.

There she was, dressed all in black like a widow in mourning; even the wide headband that held her braided hair from out of her eyes was black. She'd sat isolated at one end of the hub's meeting table as Coldhardt had brought her up to speed on all they had been through.

Now it was her turn to talk. Coldhardt sat directly opposite her, Jonah and Con to his right and Motti and Patch to his left. Patch looked to be listening closely, while Con sat stony-faced. Motti was a study in surliness, but then he was never exactly sparkly before nine.

Coldhardt himself remained as impassive as ever. He inclined his head now and then to show he was listening, but gave little else away.

As for Jonah, he felt the same about Tye's homecoming as he had when he'd finally put together the hidden pictogram – elation giving way to the realisation that he'd simply swapped one puzzle for another. The question in his mind was no longer, ‘Why did Tye stay behind?' It was, ‘Why did Tye really come back?',
and it was no easier to answer. Ramez had meant a lot to her once, and now the guy was in big trouble – facing death, for God's sake. How could he expect her not to want to save him? She wasn't like Con, always ready to cut her losses and run; she
cared
about people.

But did she have to care in a luxury bedroom, wearing just her dressing gown? The thought of Tye and Ramez together was clawing at Jonah's insides. He willed himself to focus on the story she was telling instead of the one he was imagining in his head.

‘… and then guess who turns up?' Tye stared at each of them in turn. ‘Kabacra. Like he and this Traynor guy are old friends. I mean, I know Kabacra sold Cortes's sword to Sixth Sun, but there's a whole lot more going on with these two than that.'

‘What do you mean, Tye?' Coldhardt murmured.

‘I heard them talk about an agent who's nearly ready for testing. I don't know who, or where from. But Traynor said he was going to Colorado for some demonstration and Kabacra's going along too.'

‘Colorado.' Jonah looked at Coldhardt. ‘The place with a helipad that's not marked on any map?'

‘Which means the agent in question is likely to be a biological agent.' The old man steepled his fingers. ‘No wonder Kabacra sold Sixth Sun the sword at such a heavy discount. Traynor must be giving him a biological agent as part payment. To coin an overused phrase – a weapon of mass destruction.'

Tye stared at him. ‘What?'

‘I've been digging around in some unpleasant places,' said Coldhardt, with the wintriest of smiles.
‘This man Traynor can only be
Michael
Traynor, a known collector of Mesoamerican antiquities. In the nineties he owned a private sector plant that made chemicals and production equipment for the biological weapons programme of foreign powers. But he sold up some years ago and disappeared.'

‘Around the time he started Sixth Sun?' Motti asked.

Coldhardt nodded. ‘I believe that soon afterwards he was recruited to head up a top-secret, government-sponsored biological weapons research centre.'

‘His Black House,' Jonah murmured. ‘And he's opened it up to a maniac like Kabacra.'

‘Incidentally, after further research I should point out that Black House is not just a codename,' Coldhardt went on. ‘It was the term given to the place of retreat and meditation used by Motecuhzoma, the last of the Aztec rulers. A philosopher king – tricked, captured and finally executed by the invading Spanish.'

‘I knew I'd heard that name before,' said Jonah. ‘Must've been when I was trawling online.'

‘So this Traynor thinks of himself as a new philosopher king of the Aztecs,' Con ventured, ‘and yet he's planning to rob their temple of its treasures?'