Alicia myles 1 - Aztec Gold (14 page)

The car screamed through the militia compound and out of the gates. Bullets, fired more in frustration than in any hope of finding a target, clanged off the bodywork and thumped into the dirt around them.

Crouch heaved a sigh of relief. “Make yourselves comfortable, people. We have a long ride and a hundred phone calls to make.”

Healey powered shut his window. “And an even greater treasure to find.”

Kanab saw the departure of Wrench and Red Head, both carrying thick green wads and riotous new memories. Crouch barely took a breath between phone calls, contacting friends in authority, the World Heritage Committee and other organizations, following the framework of his protocol to the letter.

“The machine is booting up.” He broke his procession of calls one time. “Sadler and I established our procedure even before the members of this group were finalized. To be putting it into play so soon is frankly astounding.”

Alicia tuned him out as he took another call. The trip to Kanab had been incident free, but somewhat cramped. By the time the team returned to their hotel everyone was ready for a shower. Alicia locked her door and stripped off, letting the clothes pile at her feet. A whiff of her armpits made her frown.

“Major degunk in order,” she said to the empty room and padded across the bare floor. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length hallway mirror and stopped to look. It was a rare moment. The laws of her life required that she never stopped; in that way the past would always be behind her.

If she was forced to confront her current wants and needs, and then the next step; the results of that inner search, she feared, would lead to some kind of breakdown. She studied the lines of her body. Her muscle tone was clearly defined, her pale skin marked by old wounds and fresh bruises. Nothing sagging yet, but whereas time hadn’t yet taken its toll the job certainly had. Old healed scars were beginning to crisscross with new ones. Alicia hurt only when she stopped her forward momentum—in more ways than one.

The shower cooled and purified her, at least for now. Ten minutes later she was dressed in fresh clothes and entering Crouch’s room, not surprised by the look of excitement on his face.

Crouch held up a hand, covering the phone. “I have our benefactor, Rolland Sadler, on the line. He’s already said this find in itself will fund our team for years through various celebrity benefits and news exclusives. The Nahua will be prioritized . . .” He went back to his call.

Alicia drifted inside and perched on the arm of the sofa. Crouch finished up with a, “Yes, Rolland. We’re about to sit down and study the map.” Then he turned to her.

“Whoa,” he said. “Our boss is a real slave driver.”

“They’re all the same.” Alicia waggled her eyebrows.

Caitlyn entered the room and walked straight over to the table. “So where’s the map and the notes?”

Alicia and Crouch exchanged a glance and smiled. Motivation was high after the recent find. But in addition to the many positives it offered, Crouch knew they now faced a mélange of undesirable consequences, not the least of which was the return of Coker, his boss, and others like him. If Coker had lost touch with them in Utah the underground rumor network would certainly have put them back on the map by now.

With Healey and Russo fetching coffee and croissants, the map and notes were laid out for Caitlyn to study. Crouch knew them by heart, but he sat down alongside her.

Caitlyn re-familiarized herself with the poem:

“Through the great, endless river you must travel,

“Past canyons and rocks of waves,

“The Shield Arch shows the way,

“But heed our warnings to the mushroom rock,

“Then beyond the known territory of the braves,

“Look between Hummingbird and the ritual for your final guidance,

“And betray the sacrifices of your loyal warriors not.”

“The river has to be the Colorado,” Crouch told her. “I think if you were an Aztec warrior wandering the desert five hundred years ago, the Colorado would seem great and endless. Plus, it fits perfectly with the directions.”

“How close can the directions get us?”

Crouch sighed. “The smallest measurement this time I’m afraid, is in days. We can get to the general area, but we can’t pinpoint the particular stretch where they traveled it and crossed it.”

Healey interrupted as he handed out paper cups full of steaming coffee. “Wow,” Alicia said. “Even the smell of coffee makes me more alert.”

“Everything’s approximate,” Crouch went on. “From our guestimate of how many miles per day they traveled to how far they wandered off their straight line. We have to assume that the bulk of the finest treasure is there. The Wheel of Gold that Cortés valued at 3800 gold pesos and later Castillo valued at more than 10,000 pesos. ‘As big as a cartwheel,’ he said, and later known as the pieces of eight. And more—statues, coins, idols. Possibly even manuscripts, every one of incalculable worth. I’ve lost track of the number of people who’ve sought this treasure down the years but I’ll say this—the mountains keep their secrets well.”

Caitlyn traced the map with a nail as she searched Google Maps on the computer. “At the very least,” she said, “we need to relocate. Kanab’s compromised as a base now.”

Alicia looked over, following the line of her finger and noting where it ended up. “You’re kidding?”

Caitlyn turned a happy grin on them. “Nope. Haven’t you ever wanted to go there?”

“I’ve been to Vegas several times. Trust me, it never ends well.”

“Won’t it make us more . . . conspicuous?” Russo wondered.

“If anything,” Crouch acceded. “A big, busy city might be the better place to stay. Not only does it provide a certain anonymity, but we’re less likely to become open targets there. So long as we stick close to the main drag.”

“The Strip,” Caitlyn said happily. “They call it the Strip.”

Alicia tapped the girl on the shoulder. “Reality check. We ain’t heading out there to party, love. We’re on a mission.”

“I understand that,” Caitlyn said. “It’s the victory celebration that I’m looking forward to.”

Sunset Station sat southeast of Las Vegas Boulevard, about ten miles from the staggering casinos that formed its heart. Busy, colorful, extensive and bristling with security they agreed it was the best place to stay. Nobody could predict what a South African crime lord might order his men to do, but ordering an attack on such a high risk target seemed unlikely.

Crouch enthusiastically set about determining their best starting point, using the old Aztec distance and directional system. Caitlyn called Healey over to work on the rest of the poem.

Alicia gazed out of the eighth floor window. “It’s all so flat.”

Russo drifted over. “Guess that’s why they call it a desert.”

“Funny guy. How’d ya like to—” Alicia started to retort and then saw a slight smile curling the big man’s lips. She understood. They’d fought together now, spilled blood together, saved lives and ended them. The bond they shared was no longer built on reputation, it was built on respect.

Alicia nodded in silent response. Caitlyn argued softly with Healey over the unknown meanings behind the poem’s mysterious descriptions. Wave rocks, shield arches and mushroom rocks might be anything, but at least two of those word pictures pointed to an Aztec narrative.

Alicia’s phone rang. Looking down she was startled to see the call was from a not-so-old friend.

“Drakey!” she cried into the handset.

Matt Drake started to laugh. “Same old Alicia. Ay up, we’re missing you over here. Team’s just not the same without your . . . panache.”

“Shit, that’s a big word for a Yorkshire dimwit.”

“I have more. How about élan? Flamboyance? You still there?”

Alicia saw Crouch glance over. “The boss is giving me the evils for being on the phone at work. You know how it is in gainful employment.”

“Can’t say that I do. And Hayden says she’s fine by the way. Almost back to normal.”

“I was going to ask.” Alicia pouted.

“Listen, before you left we were starting to hear rumors, stories filtering through about a nasty new group. Some kind of secret organization called the Pythians.”

“I remember,” Alicia said. “We believed they were recruiting hundreds of mercenaries from all over the world and trying to put some very high-profile objectives in place.”

“Yeah, well, they appear to be the kind of secret organization that just doesn’t want to stay secret. Reports are popping up from Tokyo to Los Angeles—”

“Something about Pandora wasn’t it?” Alicia interrupted.

“We haven’t nailed it down yet. The whole thing’s just . . . very fluid. And that’s the problem, and why I chose to call you. Something this fluid, this fast, means it’s about to happen. The fuse is about to be lit, Alicia, and it’s gonna blow big. Every major government has raised their threat level
without
an ounce of direct information. War cabinets are being called. The airwave chatter is so high they’ve drafted in twice as many men to cope. I wanted to warn you.”

Alicia covered the handset and repeated the information to the room, more directly at Crouch. Their boss nodded.

“Ask him if Argento is involved.”

Alicia mentioned the Interpol agent’s name.

Drake affirmed. “Yes. The SPEAR team is heading this one up, but every country has their own way of doing things, of course. And every country has a team. And Interpol,” he sighed. “They have bloody dozens.”

“Stick with Argento,” Alicia said. “He’s good and if he recommends any team it’s safe to say they’ll be one of the best.”

“How about you guys?” Drake asked. “You ready to fly anywhere at a moment’s notice? This thing is global.”

“Sure. As soon as we find the treasure.”

“Good. Stay safe, Alicia.”

“You too.”

Alicia ended the call and spoke into the abrupt silence. “Seems there’s more going on in the world than our little treasure hunt. Who woulda known?”

“Drake,” Russo said wonderingly. “Isn’t that your old . . .”

Alicia turned a fiery gaze upon the man. “What?”

“Boss?”

“A loose term but partially true. We worked together in the same unit and then with SPEAR. Drake and I have more than a history together. We shared life and death for almost ten years.”

“I’ve heard of SPEAR,” Healey put in. “Good team.”

“Best in the world,” Crouch said. “And we’ll stay on standby for them. Drake wouldn’t call unless it was terribly urgent. All that tells me one thing—we’re on a brief timetable here, guys. We need to move fast before the real-life shit really hits the fan.” He took a deep breath and returned to his notes, a worried frown stretched across his features. His sense of responsibility would not allow him to seek out a five-hundred-year-old treasure whilst friends and soldiers struggled to protect the rest of the world.

“We need to find the rest of our Aztec gold. Now.”

Highway 89 snaked through a rolling wilderness, broken in parts by rocky, often vertical buttes, flanked by mountains, lorded over by the sprawling blue skies. Their vehicle, a black 4x4, powered its way toward the Colorado Plateau, jammed full of bodies, equipment and gear as high-tech as underground satphones, trackers and laser field glasses to items as innocuous as suntan lotion and small inflatable rubber dinghies.

Predictably, Alicia was the first to point out the obvious. “Mr. Crouch sir,” she said in a small voice. “I’m putting in my protest right now. Either we trim the team or get bigger vehicles. I for one am not overly happy about three- or foursomes on the back seat every time we take a journey.”

Russo half turned from the front seat. “Isn’t that kind of your forte?”

Alicia gave a mock laugh. “Oh har-de-har. Look who’s lightened up since we found a few pieces of gold.”

“Point taken,” Crouch broke in. “I’m surprised you left it so long before complaining.”

Alicia shrugged. “Kinda enjoyed it at first.”

Healey unconsciously shifted his leg away from hers. “Ah, not much further now.”

Alicia grinned. “You prefer it if Caitlyn and I swopped places, Zack?”

With no answer forthcoming, Alicia turned her attention to the outside landscape. Mile marker twenty-five flashed by and Crouch quickly applied the brakes. At first Alicia thought their boss had lost his mind; no road was visible, but then the 4x4 jounced onto a dirt track, slewing slightly across the gravel.

“A dirt road now?” Alicia grumbled. “Really?”

“Only gonna get worse from here,” Crouch warned.

Jose Cruz, ensconced in the cramped but functional rear compartment, cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I hate to be a bother. But I’m quite sure we’re being followed.”

Crouch glanced at him through the rear-view. “Assuredly. Bastards have been on our tail ever since we left Vegas.”

“That long?” Russo whistled. “I only clocked them after Mesquite.”

Alicia stared straight ahead. “What are we dealing with?”

“Three, possibly four SUVs and a helicopter. Civilian, unless it’s been retrofitted. I’m guessing Coker.”

“Just a matter of time.” Alicia nodded. “So he picked us up in Vegas? Anyone with the right connections could do the same. You thinking his crime lord boss still wants us dead?”

“Not before we find the gold.” Crouch smiled grimly.

“Wait a minute.” Cruz’s face creased with confusion. “If we know Coker is following us why are we leading him straight to the gold?”

“You should pay attention,” Alicia said. “We’re following a five-hundred-year-old map, interpreting directions noted down by warriors, not cartographers. And,” she smiled, “we’re leading them out into a wilderness that we can control.”

Cruz shook his head with weary acceptance. “Soldiers,” he intoned.

Crouch bounced the 4x4 between bumps in the road, staying clear of the sand and scrub that marked the sides of the track. With the air conditioning cranked up high the car’s temperature still rose.

“Damn, if only it coulda been raining.” Alicia tapped a side window with a touch of British humor.

“This road could have been impassable if it had been raining,” Crouch said. “Don’t wish yourself into even more trouble.”

Alicia shrugged wistfully, about to comment further when Crouch pulled the vehicle into a makeshift parking lot, empty except for two cars—a white pickup and a sky-blue van. The only structure was a vault toilet; beyond that the flat scrubland stretched immeasurably.

Crouch turned off the car, stretching his back. “We ready?”

Alicia exited and walked around the back, slipping dark sunglasses over her eyes. The packs had all been assigned back in Vegas, filled with each person’s essentials dependent on their job. Her own mostly contained weapons and ammo; firepower she believed every girl should pack. Well, every girl with her kind of past, present and inevitable future. The days when life surprised her were long gone.

The group hefted their gear and moved out, deliberately paying no further attention to their followers, only the helicopter that could currently be seen in the far distance—a mere speck in the sky. Crouch quietly estimated they had at least a half-hour head start.

“Let’s make it count.”

A sandy track led west out of the parking lot. Crouch drifted slowly, cross-referencing their position with several incomprehensible scribblings he’d made on his own map.

“It’s as good a point as any to make a start,” he said. “The Colorado is at our back. I estimated a line between the place where the Aztec warriors’ dateline and calendar put their passage across the Colorado to where the subsequent entries ended. According to their notes, the Aztecs followed a strict line in the dirt. Even if we take into account impassable features they’ll still have returned to that line, more or less. Yes, the search grid is wide but it’s what we have. All we need is to find a single reference point.”

“Canyons and rocks of waves.” Caitlyn secured her pack with a grunt. “That’s our next clue.”

“Looks like the right kinda country.” Russo eyed the distant mountains.

The track led downhill for a while, turning east as it entered a little wash. The stony slopes made the going heavy and increased the chance of mishap. When Alicia glanced back she no longer saw any sign of pursuit. With the way ahead becoming more demanding she bent her head to the task, reveling in the tough grind to help clear her mind. The future always lay before her.

Walk on.

Steep hiking came next, all the way to the top of a ridge. Healey broke out a large bottle of water and offered it around. A tiresome sun burned down. The ground was pure rock, mountain country, offering the questers no clues.

“Technically,” Caitlyn said, looking back the way they had come. “You could call that a canyon.”

“More a crack,” Cruz said. “A stitch. But I admire the wishful thinking.”

“Trail splits ahead.” Crouch pointed. “We’ll cut left, I think. The right-hand trail veers away drastically from the route I’ve mapped.”

Taking his words as their cue to continue, the team moved out. As they walked, Alicia turned to Caitlyn. Though reassurance was not normally a weapon in Alicia’s arsenal their newest recruit had been through enough severe adversity of late, enough to warrant an exception.

“I heard it mentioned before that many other treasure hunters have sought out Montezuma’s treasure. Now, I understand where we’re different, having the old warriors’ notes at our disposal but surely at least
one
of the prospectors should have come close to finding it.”

Caitlyn bobbed her head, black hair ruffled. “One man in 1914 brought photographs of petroglyphs from Mexico, convinced that they stated the treasure had been brought here, an instruction from the old Aztec priests. Skeletons were soon found, even staircases cut into the rocks—later attributed to the Anasazi, but no treasure. Another location was Three Lakes, where men ended up scuba diving, attesting that they found a man-made entrance at the bottom of a lake. The men never returned and the find was later denied by locals.” Caitlyn shrugged. “Truth? Conspiracy theory? Locals with Aztec ancestry protecting their heritage? Nobody knows. Montezuma’s treasure is as much a grand old fable as the Holy Grail and the actual Pacific Treasure Island. Before Michael came along the most accepted story was the one where a struggling and well-liked prospector and his wife were shown a cave of riches by local Indians, allowed to leave with a cache of the treasure, but blindfolded so they would never be able to find the cave again. Apparently, the prospector had saved the life of one of the Indians’ wives. The man settled close by but never did find the cave again. Now, that area is at the junction of two rivers—the Colorado and the Virgin, and since that time the Hoover Dam has been built . . .”

Caitlyn paused for effect.

Alicia finished. “Leaving the cave underwater?”

“Actually under Lake Meade.” Caitlyn shrugged. “Perhaps it was a whole different treasure. Who knows?”

Alicia nodded at their leader. “He does.”

“You’re that confident?”

“I’ve worked with Crouch a long time, mostly indirectly. If he said the Holy Grail was hidden in the Ghost Train ride at Blackpool Pleasure Beach, I’d follow him inside.”

Caitlyn laughed as the team went east, spying several rock domes on the flats way below. Staying on an eastern heading the trail again dropped sharply. Another wash claimed them from view for a while, the dry creek displaying not even a trickle of water today. Alicia knew that in times of rain it could fill treacherously fast but saw no danger in the blazing sunshine that was starting to creep down the sky vault above.

“See that ridge?” Crouch said as they again ascended. “It’s slickrock. We head that way. Keep it in your sights.”

Using the ridge as a marker, Alicia trusted to their boss’s instincts and research sense. If he was winging it he was doing a good job of hiding his speculations. All the while he and every other member of the team kept their eyes glued to the landscape, searching for rocks of waves, canyons, mushrooms and arches, but the lines of the poem were as ambiguous as a politician’s election promise. After a few more moments Russo spoke up.

“Damn, I just spotted Coker’s team. They’re on top of the first creek bed, heading our way.” He pocketed his small pair of Steiner binoculars, infrared lens still flashing. “Bloody bloodhounds.”

Crouch pursed his lips. “All right,” he said. “Then we go to plan B.” He sent a private smile in Alicia’s direction, knowing exactly who the phrase reminded her of. “A few more miles and then we stop for the night. We’ll grab a few hours’ kip and then head out when it’s still dark and whilst they’re still snoring.”

“Break camp?” Healey asked. “They’ll surely have a scout on us by that time.”

“Leave the camp in situ,” Crouch said. “And risk that we’ll find what we’re looking for before we need it again.”

“Couldn’t we just—” Alicia made a sniper’s shot with her fingers. “You know.”

“I want no further loss of life on this trip,” Crouch declared. “We’re hunting treasure, not lives.”

“And if they don’t feel the same way?”

“Then I guess that’s a whole different story. But we will not fire first. Understood?”

“Sure.”

As they approached the slickrock ridge, Crouch pointed out the best place to make camp; one with a narrow ravine at its back that offered a covert escape route under cover of darkness. Risky, he confirmed, safety-wise, but the forecast was for no rain throughout the next several days. The team made a show of setting up several makeshift tents and lighting a small campfire as the sun began to wane in the west. Russo and Healey were assigned to keep a close but surreptitious eye on their followers, in case Coker’s crew suddenly decided to come in for a closer inspection, but the ex-Ninth Division soldiers soon reported the formation of a similar camp a few miles away.

Alicia made her way to the top of the ridge as the western horizon became a broad, fiery expanse of vibrant color but it was the bleak land below that drew her attention. The land was uninhabited, wild, free. With freedom came a particular loneliness; it had been the darker side of the pendulum her entire life. Cut loose and leave those who cared about you far behind or stay with them and feel limited. Would she ever learn?

The train of thought brought more recent complications to the surface. There had been a time a few months ago when she thought an old flame might be rekindled, the one man that had held and impressed her year upon year, a man that offered limits she would like to be a part of, but then
his
old flame stepped into the breach.

Alicia sighed. Who knew what the future held? Treasure? Pandora? And after that?

She turned her back on the freedom in front of her as she saw into its true heart, noted the wrenching seclusion, and made her way back to the companionship offered by her team.

*

As the campfire flickered, waxing and waning across the assembled faces, Cruz suggested they tell old ghost stories. Caitlyn blinked and Crouch fixed him with a stare before realizing the Mexican guide was joking. If they’d had time Alicia would have liked to quiz Caitlyn further, to dig into the real reason behind her leaving MI6 at such a young and promising age; she might even have liked to get to know both Healey and Russo a little better, but now wasn’t the time. Their little sham was working; nobody from Coker’s team had ventured closer than a mile since they set camp, most likely thinking they wouldn’t be crazy enough to set out through this wilderness at night.

It was Crouch’s only thought. The maps he’d brought were explicit in their detail of the land’s topography—they wouldn’t fall down any unexpected canyons and despite dangers like quicksand, deep stitches in the ground and a hundred other pitfalls—and he remained incredibly determined to continue. The discovery of the Aztec gold was now within his grasp—just one of many boyhood dreams that had chased him down the years, unending, magnificent in its scope and, until quite recently, just another vision out of reach. A fantasy.

Some people dreamed of fast cars. Island paradises. Movie celebrities and music stars; youthful aspirations and goals that faded as the weight of the world grew heavier with every passing year. Michael Crouch’s somewhat sentimental dream had never waned within him—he was a treasure hunter through and through.