Kidnap and Ransom (34 page)

“Crap. You bring any duct tape?”

“Don’t be—” Jake caught himself. Syd had packed their go-kits. And if he knew Syd, there was a roll of duct tape tucked inside his. He fumbled for the bag. The zipper resisted his first few tugs.

“We’re sinking,” Rodriguez noted apprehensively, clenching the dry bag to his chest. “Do you think this bag floats?”

“Shine your light over here so I can see.” Jake pawed through the contents of his backpack. The inside of the bag was suddenly ilinated. Jake sorted through energy bars and loose ammo until his hand closed around something circular. He yanked it out: a roll of silver duct tape.

“Wow. You really take that Boy Scout motto to heart,” Rodriguez said.

Jake didn’t answer, busy peeling off the outer wrapper. He yanked off a long line of tape, tearing it with his teeth. “Hold the hole closed.”

Rodriguez set his bag down on the floor of the raft. Reaching both hands over the side, he squeezed the ragged edges together. Jake managed to tape a section. He tore off another strip of tape, and they repeated the process. Five strips later, the hole had been sealed.

“We’re still taking in water,” Rodriguez said.

He was right. The raft had lost too much air. With their combined weight it barely cleared the surface. A steady stream of water slipped over the side.

“Start bailing,” Jake said.

“With what?” Rodriguez demanded, palms open. “Any chance you have an air pump in there?”

“Nope.” Jake started scooping with his hands. He quickly realized it was a losing battle. He dug through the pack again, but there was nothing better to bail with.

“Brace yourself,” he finally said, slinging his arms through the loops of the pack.

“For what?” Rodriguez asked, his voice filled with dread.

“We’re going to have to abandon ship.”

Stefan had finally fallen silent after what felt like an hours-long monologue about the Aztec calendar, Vikings and what he planned on doing with his immortality. Apparently he’d been hungering for someone to talk to. He addressed her as though she was an old friend. It was bizarre.

Kelly had tuned him out after a few minutes. She lay flat on her back trying to loosen the bindings around her wrists. It was difficult. Her fingers were still numb and the rope was wet. Every time she felt one knot release, she discovered another. Stefan hadn’t taken any chances.

She prayed he’d leave her alone for a while, so she could try to burn through the ties. Stefan appeared supremely confident that he had the upper hand, which worked in her favor. The fact that he hadn’t killed her yet was puzzling, but it gave her hope.

Hope. Kelly nearly laughed out loud. Because one thing had struck her as she lay there in arguably the most perilous situation she’d ever faced: she wasn’t ready to die. Despite the uncertainty of her future, she wanted the chance to experience it. So she’d lost her lower leg. Lots of people had suffered the same injury and gone on to lead productive lives. In the past few days she’d proven that she was still capable of most of the things she could do before the accident.

“You’re smiling,” Stefan noted. “Why?”

“It’s funny that I had to end up here to get some clarity,” she finally replied.

Stefan squinted at her. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, Agent Jones. You see, there are no coincidences in life. You end up precisely where you’re supposed to be for a reason.”

“I keep forgetting that you were a preacher of sorts,” Kelly said. “Nice sermon.”

He shrugged. “A bit trite, I’ll admit, but the reason platitudes are clichéd is because they’re so frequently true.” He glanced at his watch again. “Almost time.”

Kelly’s stomach constricted. He stood and brushed off the seat of his pants. Her hands clenched into fists as she braced herself for whatever was coming.

Stefan’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Don’t worry, Agent Jones. It will only hurt for a moment.”

Syd watched as the remaining prisoners were loaded on to a bus. The surviving cartel members had been rounded up and were sitting in a circle, feet in front of them, hands behind their heads. A few were led off to the barracks building Isabela had requisitioned for interrogations. Occasional screams emanated from it. Syd had already decided that whatever was happening in there was none of her business.

She glanced at her watch impatiently. Jake should have called by now with an update on Mark. There was a tug at her sleeve. Syd instinctively yanked her arm away and spun. A wizened elderly woman was looking up at her. She had to be less than four feet tall.

“Qué quieres?” Syd snapped.

“Gracias, señora.” The woman’s lips cracked wide in a toothless smile. “Gracias por habernos salvado.”

“De nada.” Syd watched the woman shuffle off, gingerly mounting the bus stairs with the assistance of one of the PGR soldiers. Funny. She could count on one hand how many times she’d been thanked for her work in her life. Back when she was with the Agency, it was more likely she’d be put on a death list.

Isabela emerged from the barracks. After spotting Syd, she headed over.

“We’re pulling out,” Syd said. “It seems like you’ve got things under control.”

“More or less,” Isabela agreed.

“Don’t take it personally, but I hope we never see each other again.”

Isabela laughed. “In our line of work, you never know.” She watched as the bus doors swung shut. The engine started with a growl. Cheers erupted inside as it rattled toward the gate.

“So you really think this will make a difference?” Syd asked, skeptical.

Isabela shrugged. “It is like battling the Hydra. You stop one cartel, a dozen others appear. But for these people it made a difference. And we might have gained a few weeks of peace. Los Zetas were particularly dangerous, thanks to their training and level of organization. So whoever takes their place might not present such a challenge.”

“Seems futile,” Syd noted.

Isabela smiled thinly. “Es México. Most of our humor revolves around the futility of it.” She shuffled her feet, avoiding Syd’s eyes as she asked, “How is Mark?”

Syd shrugged. “No idea. Jake hasn’t called. He’s at the Hospital Ingles in Mexico City if you want to check up on him.”

“I will.” Isabela extended a hand. “Sorry for the…confusion.”

“Making sure my people don’t encounter any trouble at the border would mean more than sorry at this point,” Syd said.

Isabela nodded. “No hay problema. It will be handled.”

“Great. Adios.” Syd mock saluted, then headed for the gate.

Forty-One

Kelly steeled herself. But rather than come after her, Stefan headed back to the corner where his supplies were stacked.

Kelly watched, her stomach filled with dread.

Stefan rummaged inside a large duffel bag. Apparently satisfied with the contents, he hauled it over one shoulder and came back to her. Stopping five feet away, he dumped it on the ground. “Here is where we part ways, Agent Jones.”

“Are you going to try to kill me?” She eyed it, wondering what was inside.

“Try?” He barked a laugh. “It would not be difficult in your current condition. But I’m on the verge of an important ritual—I can’t directly sully my hands.” His eyes lingered on her throat. “Although it’s a shame, since it would undoubtedly be enjoyable. You’ll have to reconcile yourself to a much slower demise, I’m afraid.” He looked regretful.

“You’re not doing the ritual here?” she hedged.

Stefan seemed surprised. “Of course not. These things can’t be done underground.” He gestured to the chamber. “This is where priests cleansed themselves before performing the rituals. The murals say as much.”

Kelly doubted any of that was true. “You can’t possibly be planning to kill someone back at the Templo Mayor. It’s in the middle of the city.”

His eyes glinted as he said, “Goodbye, Agent Jones. It was lovely chatting with you.” He nodded, turned and walked away.

Kelly was taken aback. Was it possible that he was just going to leave her there? Her heart leaped at the thought. Perhaps he had underestimated her, and assumed she wouldn’t be able to free herself. Rodriguez would hopefully be showing up soon with help. The bonds around her wrists had loosened slightly. Reinvigorated, she tugged at them. Her hands separated a fraction of an inch.

At the entrance to the tunnel, Stefan stopped and held something up, showing it to her: a stick of dynamite.

Kelly’s heart sank.

He called out, “I hope for your sake the air runs out quickly.” Then he whirled and vanished from sigh

He was going to cause a cave-in, trapping her here. Kelly cast her eyes around the chamber. It might not survive the blast, the entire ceiling could come crashing down. Even if it held, how would anyone find her? Panic set in, a vise grip tightening around her chest.

Kelly rolled over. After struggling for a minute, she swung her good leg under her and sat. Using her foot, she pushed herself backward toward the tunnel, but her progress was slow. She made it five feet, then ten. Maybe she could get out in time. Stefan probably wasn’t familiar with explosives; there was a whole host of things he could have done wrong….

Kelly was ten feet from the entrance when an explosion ripped into the room. It began as a rumble on the far side, then a torrent of rocks and flames spewed from the tunnel mouth.

They both froze at the sound of an explosion. “What was that?” Rodriguez asked. “Earthquake?”

“I don’t know,” Jake said, but his stomach filled with dread. Stefan was ruthless. During the campus case, he’d beheaded a man he considered a friend. The thought of what he might be doing to Kelly right now was almost more than Jake could bear. “Stay with the boat if you want,” he said, getting up on his knees. “I’m going in.”

Before Rodriguez could stop him, he dived over the side. Even though he was already drenched, the shock of the water hit him hard. He spit out a mouthful, pulling a face at the foul taste.

“Christ, Riley,” Rodriguez called out. “Be careful.”

Jake was already swimming, the current swept him along. He held the flashlight in his right hand, so the light panned up and around in an arc as he swam. After ten strokes, he shone it in the direction the river was flowing. There was another opening up ahead, even smaller than the one that had torn their boat. He was racing toward it at a steady clip. Five feet away, he took a deep breath and dived beneath the surface. The water roiled, his flashlight illuminating rocks on either side. Jake did his best to avoid them, pushing off with his hands, but one still clipped him hard on the shoulder. He kept his legs locked out straight behind him, resisting the current’s efforts to drag him down. After less than a minute, he broke the surface, gulping air. Rodriguez isn’t going to enjoy that, he thought…but the life preserver should bear him back to the surface. As long as he didn’t panic, he’d be fine. The current ebbed. Jake shone the light around.

He was in a larger chamber, similar to the first one they’d entered. The walls were covered with drawings. It looked like there was a spit of land on the right. Jake made for it, carving a path through the water with strong strokes. His knees brushed bottom and he stood. Jake staggered on to dry land, shivering.

There were drag marks on the ground—someone had managed to get a boat there, although after what they’d come through he had no idea how.

Movement caught his eye. Jake panned the light toward it. A few feet away, something flesh-colored bobbed in the shallows. His heart clenched. Part of him didn’t want to see what it was, especially not after the explosion they’d heard. He approached slowly, as if it might attack.

Kell prosthetic. A wave of relief washed over him, replaced almost immediately by concern. What the hell had happened down here?

Jake swiveled. There was a pile of rubble against the far wall. Coming closer, he saw dust settling around it. The air hung thick with a pungent chemical smell.

He pressed his ear against the rock closest to him.

“Kelly?” he called out.

A long moment passed. Then he heard Kelly’s voice, faintly calling for help.

Kelly strained her ears. For a second, she thought she’d heard Jake. She waited, then shook her head. Ridiculous. He was miles away.

The blast had snuffed out the candles, leaving her in the dark. The right side of her body felt hot. She’d probably suffered some burns. Chunks of stone had fallen off the surrounding walls, one landing what sounded like inches from her head, but her fears of a larger cave-in proved unfounded. All things considered, it could have been worse.

At the thought, Kelly laughed. She was stuck in a forgotten Aztec chamber hundreds of feet below Mexico City. Hard to imagine a worse scenario.

Kelly managed to reach the tunnel entrance. From what she could tell, the only way out was now a wall of stone. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax, organizing her thoughts. First things first: she had to free her hands.

Kelly made her way back to Stefan’s supply pile. Facing away from it, she managed to unzip the closest duffel bag and reached in, praying it didn’t hold something awful, like human skin. Her fingers fumbled across what felt like more rope, then a water bottle, a small shovel…something caught her finger and she inhaled sharply. Carefully she felt her way along it: a knife. She leaned forward, straining her arms as she moved her wrists back and forth. The knife nicked her wrists a few times, but after a minute the rope loosened.

Kelly yanked her wrists apart as hard as she could, and the last of the rope gave. She shook out her hands to get the blood flowing again. It was a small victory, but having her hands back made her feel better.

Now she had to find some light.

A few more minutes of groping through Stefan’s stash produced a box of kitchen matches and a large candle. She lit it on the third try. The wick flickered to life, sweeping the shadows away. Kelly nearly cried from relief. She turned back toward the tunnel.

What remained of the entrance was nearly a solid wall of stones. Still, some looked small enough for her to move. She had nothing to lose by trying. Kelly dug through the pile and extricated a shovel. Holding it in her right hand, the candle in her left, she made her way back across the room, supporting her weight on the shovel handle. It took five minutes of arduous effort to get there. She panted from the exertion as she examined the cave-in. Stefan’s dynamite had done its job well. The center of the tunnel had collapsed completely, leaving only a few feet clear on her side—and who knew how much damage the far end had sustained. The entire outer chamber might have come down. Maybe Stefan had accidentally buried himself in it. Comforting thought, but she doubted it. Not with her luck.