The Mayan Priest (28 page)

‘Samuel,’ said Georgio as he veered to the right, down a barely visible track.

‘We are facing an impossible task. Three of us up against a group of trained mercenaries. He’ll kill us as soon as he has the information he needs,’ said Adam.

‘Then we need to hope that either Dale makes a breakthrough and uncovers the identity of Samuel’s boss or we outwit him and make it back in time to save the archaeologists,’ muttered Georgio.

‘We simply cannot give up on Fred and Richard. If I don’t try my best to save Fred, I’ll never be able to live with myself,’ said Gillian angrily.

‘Don’t misunderstand me, Gillian. I have no intention of failing, but I do fear that we may be too late. I think we need to come to terms with the fact that it is likely we will lose them all,’ said Georgio as Adam could not resist squeezing Gillian comfortingly on the shoulder. Despite her lack of conversation about Fred, Adam knew that Gillian was extremely worried although he did admit to finding it a little odd that she spoke far more about Richard than her own fiancé. It was clear that she cared deeply for the older man as a father figure, but he wondered just how much Fred actually meant to her. Gillian was a strange enigma to him. She was very smart and beautiful, but there was also a coldness that he couldn’t quite place. Instinctively he felt that it would be a tough task to try to understand her.

Gillian patted Adam’s hand fondly, only interrupted when the mysterious light reappeared. At first it was nondescript, no more than an unidentified radiance that was neither threatening nor gloomy. Unfortunately it gradually closed in, travelling slightly faster than they were and in a direction that would clearly cross their path. Georgio tapped the steering wheel with unease as a frown appeared across his forehead. He automatically pushed the car to its limit, but the heavy jungle impeded his progress and the light encroached with infuriating ease.

‘He’s fast approaching,’ said Adam as he leant forward in the back seat.

‘It has to be Samuel or his men,’ said Gillian as Georgio nodded but did not reply.

The sound emitted by the encroaching vehicle increased to such a din that the contrasting silence in the car spoke volumes to the sudden fear they experienced. Adam did his best to quell the feeling of nervousness as Georgio attempted to outrun whatever it was that had just traversed with them, even sinking into the uncomfortable vinyl seat as far as possible.

It did not help!

The lights of their pursuer shone through the back window as Georgio drove admirably. A cat and mouse chase ensued, but the vehicle behind then was far superior and rammed the small jeep with such force that the three occupants were flung forward. Adam whacked his head against the driver’s seat and Gillian hit the dashboard. Georgio yelled with a mix of anger and frustration, pushing the vehicle into a sideways skid in an attempt to control the sudden slide on the damp green earth.

He failed! The vehicle hit them repeatedly.

The ensuing moments were a blur for Adam. All he could recall was hitting his head against the roof as the little vehicle rolled over and careened into a large object before he blacked out.

***

Consciousness came gradually. There was little pain with the exception of the egg that was developing on his head, and a quick wriggle of all his limbs revealed everything was intact and working. He sighed in relief but was suddenly abounded by panic when he recalled that Gillian and Georgio had been with him. He had no idea how they were, or if they had even survived.

With a determined frame of mind that involved him overcoming a bout of dizziness and disorientation, Adam sat up. He was met with a supporting hand from Georgio who helped him to his feet.

‘Good to see you up and about,’ he smiled the comments delivered with a genuine smile and twinkle in his eye.

Adam looked about. The darkness impeded his vision but he could easily make out the inverted wreck of the small jeep and a much larger diesel powered four-wheel drive with a damaged front end. It didn’t take much intelligence to know that it had caused the carnage, but the question that was uppermost on his mind was the whereabouts of the men who were driving.

Gillian hobbled slowly to his position. The grimace on her face was the response to a cut on her leg that had been bandaged. ‘I was worried about you,’ she whispered as she gave him a quick chaste hug he had hoped would be a little more passionate. Never mind. He would take anything he could.

‘Dead … all dead. It seems that Caton was not disloyal after all. Apparently, he was not with the group when they were captured, so he improvised and pretended to be one of the men placed on site by Samuel’s boss. He used his imposing figure and authority to gain respect and was able to discreetly drop food to his friends.

Not long after our escape, he overheard Samuel saying that he had initially intended not to follow the stolen jeep but that he had changed his mind. He simply could not take the risk of allowing us to reach the final clue first. Caton managed to climb on board the pursuit vehicle and eventually took control. Unfortunately, he was too late to stop the crash, but he did succeed in killing the assassins before they were able to execute us.’

‘That’s a convenient story,’ muttered Adam.

Gillian blinked and pursed her lips. ‘What do you mean by convenient? Caton risked his life for us and Georgio has faith in him.’

‘You didn’t see him with Samuel’s men. He was way too comfortable in their company. For someone trying to improvise, he was an expert actor.’

‘You’re too suspicious, Adam. I trust Georgio’s judgement,’ replied Gillian stubbornly.

Adam did not comment. It did not take a great deal of intelligence to know that Samuel’s men were all highly trained assassins quite capable of noticing an impostor. They would pick an unfamiliar face immediately. He would have to be on his guard.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Arun Keane leant his expansive frame back in his leather recliner and placed his feet, encased in brown Gucci’s, on the pad of his expansive oak desk. He traced his fingers over the polished wood grain and recalled the day he had found it at the back of an abandoned antique store. Purchased as an acquisition for his extensive worldwide property portfolio, the store had been vacated with the exception of a rubbish-filled locked room. Arun had ordered it to be immediately opened and cleaned, the desk only coming to light once the piles of papers had been removed. At first it was considered to be like any other old but insignificant desk until Arun began to do some research. He soon discovered that it was a genuine Victorian, especially commissioned and used solely by Queen Victoria herself. How it ended up here was not known, but Arun did manage to locate a record confirming the theft of a furniture container on route to Buckingham Palace.

Since that time, the desk had become his pride as it brought him within the same league as the illustrious Queen.

It gave him shivers of delight.

Chuckling to himself, Arun lit a Cuban cigar and puffed it gently in contemplation. He had been born into a poor family of little means and took to pickpocketing out of desperation. Fortunately, this developed into a thirst for more affluence, which eventually led to a quest for items of greater value. By the young age of thirteen, Arun learnt the importance of antiques and developed a love for the ancient worlds they represented. This was beneficial in turning his rampant need for funds into a burning passion that he was unable to quench.

Once fuelled by this new found desire there was no stopping him and he soon learnt that the easiest way to acquire the objects of his desire was with the funding obtained from drugs.

Drugs were readily available and easy to dispose of. They provided him with an untraceable and endless stream of money, but he was greedy; he wanted more – more drugs, more money and more antiques – and the only solution was to manufacture his own drugs in a quantity that suited his appetite.

He wanted to be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. He wanted to leave behind the desperation of his youth and prove that he was worthy of greatness, that he owned the best of everything.

It was then that Arun decided to collect only one item of each group but with a stipulation that it was the finest example of its kind.

His first purchase was the highest clarity pink diamond available, followed quickly by an unrivalled black Australian opal. He continued on this line until he had one of each class of precious gemstone before moving onto paintings. He boasted a Van Gogh, Monet, Rembrandt, Da Vinci and many others, only missing a Picasso, which he was currently in negotiations with at a Paris museum.

He readily admitted that he took whatever means necessary to gain his current aspiration and often resorted to blackmail, quickly creating a vast network of people willing to cater to his every need. And he was generous, offering great sums of money for each transaction.

Arun considered the connections he had built up over the years and grinned in delight. He was so powerful that his influence stretched from the Mexican government to the White House and everyone in between. He had teachers, accountants, museum curators, police officers, shop owners and every other possible connection on his payroll, all funded by his cocaine factory.

Arun was unable to resist a chuckle. He had pulled off a masterpiece of planning and organisation.

When he had realised that the demand for drugs had outstripped his supply, he knew that he would need to manufacture it himself. But where?

He would require a provision that would allow him to process huge amounts of the drugs undetected, along with the facilities to house the people required. Then there was the problem of loyalty. To carry off his plan, he would need a crew that could not be bought.

It took careful consideration, assisted by a third straight glass of Makers Mark whisky, to hatch a plan that involved a Mayan-inspired cult. It was a perfect idea that would allow him to recruit children, the most innocent and easy to manipulate of them all.

All that was required would be the support of a couple of key friends, especially Senator Ferrero Santiano, and true to form, Ferrero had been instrumental in obtaining the children and keeping it under wraps from the government for over forty years. It was such a success that it made both of them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams – until recently.

Fine cracks had started to appear in their venture and Arun was angry. He had received news that Santiano’s home had been raided and the group of new children uncovered. This was a potential disaster that would require immediate rectification.

Santiano had been his closest ally, but Arun had no loyalty to him. He was merely a dispensable cog in the wheel that had once been an important part of the process. But not anymore! He had become increasingly sloppy, choosing children with families who had listed them as missing and leaving the address of the compound on his desk.

Arun was also aware that the threat of interrogation or prison would cause Santiano to crack, leaving no doubt that he would reveal the secret of the sect to save his own arse. He was a liability that Arun could no longer carry, leaving him little option but to nullify the risk.

Without further deliberation, Arun picked up his antique phone and dialled a phone number known only to him.

Tomas answered immediately, listening intently to Arun’s orders before hanging up without saying a word.

Arun sighed. Tomas was his personal sharpshooter and his most highly paid employee, earning more than any politician or doctor could dream of. Initially Arun had hesitated at securing this investment for the safety of his business, but it had paid off handsomely in removal of at least half a dozen serious problems to date.

True to form, Tomas rang three hours later and confirmed that the job was successfully completed although Santiano had already arrived at the local police station, which necessitated the need to shoot him whilst he was in custody.

Arun cringed. The police station was normally a no-go zone, but Tomas had a clear view through a window and was far enough away to avoid capture. He also understood the urgency of the situation and pulled out all resources to follow his orders. Arun decided to reward him with an extra 100 000 dollars in this pay.

But his problems were still not over. The person who had infiltrated Ferrero’s home posed a serious predicament to his security and Arun had no idea who he was. Until he had received Tomas’s call confirming the death of Santiano, he had suppressed his emotions, determined to face one concern at a time, but now he could focus fully on the other issue at hand. An unfamiliar flutter of fear washed over him and he reacted instinctively by throwing his glass against the far wall and watching it smash into hundreds of shards.

It provided no release.

He skolled a straight whisky, catching sight of himself in his gilt mirror as he placed the decanter back on the African blackwood bookshelf. The years had not been kind to him and he had to swap his brooding good looks for those of an old, overweight, balding man. It greatly displeased him, but he still possessed something far more important than looks … power. Power and money bought him everything he desired, even women who were prepared to close their eyes to his ugliness and treat him like a king. He relished his status more than his own life and would protect it with everything he had. It was for this reason that he must discover the identity of the intruder, and he knew just the man to do the job.

Once again Arun picked up the phone and employed the services of Michael Brewner, an ex-Navy Seal who gave up the fast-paced lifestyle for what he considered was staid detective work. He assisted Arun regularly with anything he needed found, from antiques, long-missing sunken ships, ancient cities and people. It was Michael, a member on the board of the Archaeological Institute, who informed them of the dig at Tikal and also Michael who helped Arun find General Dale Bright in Houston and eradicate the helicopter. Of course, Michael required a portion of every recovery he made, or a suitable pay as compensation, which Arun readily provided.