Alicia myles 1 - Aztec Gold (5 page)

“Go,” he said to the driver once they were inside. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah,” Alicia murmured. “Like getting us some goddamn guns.”

“And . . .” Crouch deliberated. “This episode has taught me one thing if nothing else. It seems we need a pair of eyes and ears beyond our team. Somebody to watch from afar and help. We need one more.”

Once they were safely ensconced, Crouch started putting his connection machine into gear. Through Interpol he acquired a new associate in Texas that had a good friend in the Mexican police. So far it was easy for him, friends helping friends, working on goodwill. The Mexican policeman knew various unsavory sorts and agreed to send out several feelers to identify the team Coker had been working with. The understanding from Alicia was that at least some of them had to be local.

Alicia took a shower, then returned to the main room. Their accommodation was spacious and clean and by the time she’d tuned back into Crouch’s cajoling phone conversations she understood he was close to securing a new member of their team.

“She’s English too? She sounds perfect, Armand. An ex-MI6 operative would work for us and I trust your judgment. Put her in touch directly if you would, and thanks for reaching out.”

Alicia stalked over. “Thank God she’s a woman, but
ex-
MI6?”

Crouch shrugged. “Wouldn’t do to poach their serving staff now, would it?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I realize that and you’ll have to trust Armand and me. Now, whilst we’re waiting for the Mexicans, I’ll have to get hold of Rolland and rustle up some clever technology.”

Alicia drifted away. If a young MI6 operative no longer worked for MI6 but was still available for intelligence work then it usually meant they’d burned out or hit an insurmountable personal problem. Either way they were damaged.

But then aren’t we all?
Alicia shrugged it off, padding over to the window.

“So what’s the plan?” Russo asked of her, somewhat challengingly. In reality, he had to know it would all depend on the worth of what the Mexicans came back with.

Alicia kept her eyes on the view outside. “Gold’s still out there, Russo. Goons or not. If we have to, we’ll go straight through ‘em.”

“Isn’t that always your style?”

“Yeah. I don’t fuck around. That’s for pussies. Are you a pussy, Russo?” Now she turned, throwing down the gauntlet.

The big man rose to his feet, simply because this wasn’t a moment to be the only one sitting down. “I’m a team player, Myles, and if I have to I’ll lay it all on the line for my men.”

Alicia nodded. “Then quit yer whining and buckle up. This ride’s gonna get a hell of a lot bumpier before we reach the end. I’m guessing the guy pulling Coker’s strings ain’t just offering us a guided tour.”

Russo turned reflective. “Yeah, I wonder what’s going on with Coker, and how the hell they found us.”

At that moment Crouch put the phone down from Rolland Sadler. “All right. We have computer tech and surveillance equipment en route. Some if it mobile, tweeters and comms and such, most of it fixed for hard-wiring, so now we’ll need to scout a secure HQ set-up wherever we go.”

“If that means mobile transport,” Lex spoke up. “I can drive anything with wheels. And most things without.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

Alicia took the quiet time to carefully assess her new team. Settling in took time, she understood that, but already several concerns were playing ping-pong in her head. Crouch himself was highly skilled but, lost in the excitement of living his dream, appeared not to have thought all the logistics through. If he’d missed one angle maybe he’d missed another. She didn’t want to be ass-up in a gunfight when she found out. Moving on, Russo was belligerent and Healey was green, but the action they’d just shared had proven that both were dependable and possessed potential. Lex, her own little addition, hadn’t stepped up yet but Alicia knew it was within him to do so. Despite what she said, if she hadn’t already seen a latent ability within him she’d have cut loose back in DC. Crouch’s benefactor, Sadler, was an unknown quantity, and Alicia didn’t like to judge a man she’d never met. Hopefully, the guy was in it for all the good reasons.

As her mind wandered Crouch turned toward his laptop screen. A new message had flashed up, catching his attention. As he reached out to open it Alicia moved closer. The message read:
Contact made with locals. Have asked them to have leader call you.

Crouch raised an eyebrow and turned toward Alicia. “Fast work.”

“I don’t doubt that the Mexican authorities have their contacts.”

“Down here, the currency is money, drugs and people. My concern is how much of that currency exchanged hands to facilitate this phone call.”

Alicia grimaced. “Maybe it’s best not to think too hard on that one.”

“Yeah, that’s what the cops say.”

Before Alicia could respond, Crouch’s cell rang. He held the screen up. The word
Unknown
flashed in red letters. Alicia stepped back.

“Crouch here.” The ex-Ninth Division boss hit the speaker button.

“Michael,” a deep, self-assured tone drawled. “Didn’t hurt your head back there, I hope? I noticed you stayed clear of the action.”

Crouch wasn’t one to be bated into an argument. “What’s going on, Coker? What do you want with us?”

“If you hadn’t run away so fast you would know by now.”

Crouch looked genuinely puzzled. “Greg.” He said. “Last time I checked we were friends. Rivals, yes, but gracious ones. What changed?”

Crouch covered the speaker and, looking to Alicia, mouthed, “I used to like this guy.”

A silence stretched on the other end. When he ended it, Coker did so with resignation in his voice. “Needs must, Michael. Needs must. I’m in a jam. Lately, the world has worked in ways not often to my liking.”

Crouch hesitated. “It does and always has. It always will. That doesn’t mean burning bridges.”

“Ah, is that what I’m doing? Well, I highlight an earlier comment.
Needs must.
”

Crouch knitted his eyebrows in thought. Was Coker trying to tell him something? He tried a different tack. “What are you looking for?”

“Oh, gold. Treasure. Tombs. The usual. I’d say Quetzalcoatl, but hasn’t he been found already?”

“Then why attack us?” To Crouch, the attack meant only one thing. It was a sign that Greg Coker was being cruelly controlled by someone. An operative like Coker would never ordinarily draw attention to himself unless the opportunity was textbook or desperate. The museum debacle had been neither and it had been senseless, especially if, as Crouch suspected, Coker was attempting to fly along on their shirttails in the hope of pipping them at the post when the treasure was located.

Coker again took his time to formulate an answer. “It’s complicated, I’m afraid. Very fucking complicated. But look, please carry on. I’ve no doubt our paths will cross again soon.”

Crouch held the cell tighter. “I can help you, Greg. Look, my friend, this is not you. I get that. But you have to—”

“Goodbye, Michael.” Coker’s long-suffering tones rang out. “Goodbye, and good luck.”

Crouch swore as the connection ended. Alicia turned as, immediately, the laptop pinged again and a new message opened up.

All the locals we have reached out to suggest your man is not the crew’s true leader. He is a field captain, no more. Locals suggest true leader is very bad news, some kind of criminal kingpin. I’d say back away from this one while you still can.

Crouch sat down hard. If nothing else, Coker was clearly in trouble and despite the guy’s inept attempt at hurting them, needed help.

“What could make a man like Coker work for a criminal kingpin?” Healey wondered.

“That,” Crouch said, “is the loaded question. Along with why would a crime boss be interested in a five-hundred-year-old treasure? And how the hell did he find out about it?”

“Information’s everywhere.” Lex spoke in a challenging tone. “Anyone could find out.”

“Agreed,” Crouch said. “But not like this. Not at the exact same time that we arrive.”

“I know one man that knows,” Alicia said with a slight smile. “Coker. When we see him again we’ll ask him.” She made a wringing motion with her hands. “Hard.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Crouch said. “Coker is, or was, a good man. Clumsy, but likeable. I’ve never had a problem with him, despite consistently having to feed him false information to stop him following my every move. I’ve had my fill of violence, Alicia.” He held her gaze. “Haven’t you?”

Alicia shrugged. “Hey, I never start it. Usually though, I do finish it, and often with a smile on my face.”

Russo spoke up from his position near the window. “So what’s the plan, boss?”

“Time to start the real treasure hunt.” Crouch couldn’t keep the smile from lighting his face. “Time to seek out the Nahua.”

The journey to the north did not start out as long or as arduous as Alicia imagined it might. The treasure hunters rented two four-wheel-drive vehicles, stowed their gear and their new guide, and headed out. The skies above were perfect blue, the clouds pure white and cotton-tailed. Alicia made sure the air-con was cranked up high before settling back into her seat.

“So,” she said to their guide who was seated behind her, alongside Lex. “How far?”

“Ten to twelve hours, depending on the roads,” Jose Cruz told her in perfect English. “You didn’t want to take the airplane, so it takes longer.”

“I get that,” Alicia said. “Planes attract too much attention. At least this way we can spot a tail.”

“Speaking of which,” Crouch said from the driver’s seat. “All well so far.”

“Are you expecting trouble?” Cruz asked with a touch of fear.

Alicia shrugged. “None more than usual.” Her mind flicked over the stash of old weapons they’d purchased before setting out. Nothing outstanding, but still nothing short of much-needed added protection.

She caught Crouch’s twitch of a smile.
Yeah, he’s thinking ‘none more than usual’ could mean anything from a fist fight to an apocalypse. Shit, what a crazy legend I’m becoming part of.

The hours passed slowly, eased along by the incredible unfolding landscape. Jagged, vertical rock faces rose straight up out of the earth, the haunt of climbers from all over the world, and dark mountains towered in the distance. Turquoise blue rivers ran fast, circling toward the road and then away toward some distant ravine or cavern. Cruz spoke of great waterfalls and tremendous flocks of birds, stunning cave systems and great canyons. The highway became small and winding, occasionally perilous as they started to climb. The group stopped where they could to take on food and water, seeing no advantage in arriving at their destination worn out.

Alicia quizzed their guide as the hours ticked by. “Rivera mentioned that you would be known to these people. A friend? What is it that you do, Cruz?”

Their guide, a thin man with a shock of black hair and a tendency to sweat, tore his eyes away from the road ahead. “It’s not just a conventional job that I do. It is . . . moderation. I usually act as a go-between for the more secluded tribes and their supposed government. A referee at times. At others simply an intermediary. They trust me.” He shrugged. “I trust Carlos Rivera, who has taught me much of the Aztec legend, good and bad. Do not let either of us down.”

Crouch inclined his own head. “You have my word. You say he’s taught you much?”

“To help me in my work. To help me understand the people, yes. Now, I’d like to know what makes you qualified to find a mythical treasure where everyone else has failed.”

“Us?” Alicia smiled. “Nothing. Short of, we’re the real deal. Serious as a bullet. We don’t have time to waste. People like us, we’re normally off fighting bad guys and keeping the world safe. You’re actually very lucky we’re here.”

Cruz didn’t look convinced. “Okay.”

More climbing and they passed a group of life-jacketed people manhandling a kayak onto a stretch of water. Another clearing revealed several youths scrambling small ATVs across a shallow stream bed.

Cruz cleared his throat. “Before we arrive I want to give you a clearer picture of what you will find. The Nahua people living here are a simple race. If they want to earn and work for money they walk or take a bus to the nearest town—which takes sixty minutes in one direction. No more than sixty families live in this small mountainous village. An insignificant race, you might think, but then consider that the words
avocado
,
chili, coyote
and even
chocolate
and
tomato
have Nahua roots. You will see many coffee trees, amazing vistas, and even clouds filling the valley below. This is their life and it is enough. The wives try to support their families the traditional way—through weaving and stitching—but it is often a road to nowhere. Their husbands grow crops, potatoes, mushrooms and peppers. They are surrounded by old ruins and green hills with altars carved into their sides. A very religious people, their festivals are normally loud and colorful. They can, literally, dance for days.”

Crouch slowed as the road narrowed. “I think we’re close.”

Cruz pointed ahead. “Pull in over there. I hope you guys are ready for this.”

*

Cruz directed them through the small, clean village, all the time heading for a huddle of dwellings that sat on the outskirts, built up against a high stepped hill. Above the roofs of the dwellings and dotted up the hillside, Alicia made out the altars Cruz had mentioned—small niches carved out of the rock and adorned with colorful ribbons. Her eyes followed a sandy path that led all the way to the top.

She spoke quietly to Russo, who had been driving the second vehicle. “Any problems?”

“All clear,” he reported back. “Haven’t seen another car for hours.”

As they walked, the village quieted. Strangers were not unknown to these parts but were still rare enough to attract a little pall of uneasiness. Remembering Cruz’s words Alicia fought to keep her silence even when a small group of men started pointing at her. The path continued through numerous small dwellings and past well-ordered fields where men and children worked, even though the sun had begun to set to the west. Alicia kept a sharp eye in all directions, even as far as the tree line high above, but nothing untoward occurred.

Cruz chatted to the locals as he passed through. Everyone seemed to know him. The guy probably spent half his life visiting villages and townships such as this, but perhaps not for today’s unusual reason. Crouch followed and stored away his every move as if learning the ropes for some later visit. The man was nothing if not meticulous.

Cruz stopped before the huddle of dwellings. The rough poured concrete construction didn’t fit well out here where the new world hadn’t penetrated, but Alicia chose to see it as a verification of the wisdom of the village elders. As they waited, three men emerged into the sunlit evening.

Alicia stared. With only a small stretch of her imagination she could easily see them at that aforementioned battle of Tenochtitlan, fighting the conquistadors. Cruz approached reverentially and spoke for a while. Alicia understood none of it and kept her eyes sweeping the area, always alert.

After five minutes Cruz finally turned to Crouch. “It’s up to you now. I have done all I can and expressed Rivera’s wishes that they help. But you must convince them that you mean well, that you are the real deal. Otherwise,” he shrugged, “they will give you nothing.”

Crouch nodded, stepping forward. It wasn’t lost on him that the language barrier would severely dent the impact of his speech, but he hoped the sincerity in his voice would shine through in any dialect. He started out by explaining a little of his background, then quickly moved on.

“Carlos Rivera trusts us to do the right thing,” he continued as Cruz translated. “As does Mr. Cruz here. They would not help us if they didn’t believe in us. I have pulled together this entire team, professionals all, to help and we are funded by a man with major contacts inside the World Heritage Committee. Your priceless treasures, if found, would be displayed in a museum in their entirety, not sold off or smuggled away to a private collector as so many are these days.”

Crouch paused to let Cruz catch up, then continued.

“I realize most everyone that has approached you so far were not exactly . . . genuine, honest people. I can’t prove that we are any different save for the tone of my voice and my choice of words, but I
can
offer something that you already inherently know—your ancestors were not fools. They will not suffer fools to find their gold. Only a highly professional outfit, richly underwritten, can hope to stand any chance of succeeding. And then only with your help. Do you want your heritage back?”

Cruz’s voice persisted for a minute then fell silent. Alicia gazed into the faces of the elders, seeing nothing there. Not a flicker of expression. Not once did they turn to each other, as if conversing through mental telepathy. But after a while the tallest man with the most weather-beaten skin and deeply crinkled eyes started to talk.

Cruz translated. “Your words are welcome, but strangers are not. Any man can lie, and most very well. There is nothing for you here.” The guide looked a little crestfallen.

Crouch leaned forward. “Carlos Rivera, my friend, said that you might.”

The elder made no move, instead staring at Crouch without let up. Eventually Cruz said, “To me you are still a stranger.”

Alicia scanned the valley once more. It wasn’t that she was expecting trouble, it was that trouble was never far away during operations like this. Truth be told, trouble seemed to cling to her like a besotted high-school senior. In the twilight of her SAS days, and because it was new and cultish at the time, the guys had taken to calling her Veronica, after Kristen Bell in the TV series, because the two women looked so much alike and were beset with misfortune. But that was where the similarities ended. Alicia had escaped the hell of her home before college and even then she could have incapacitated a man with a double strike. It could be said that her formative years had shaped her for war.

The elder expressed himself again. “We have long accepted that our heritage is lost. Perhaps it is better staying where it is.”

Alicia picked up on the charged statement as quickly as Crouch. “Then it
does
exist? You have proof. Your people and certainly your ancestors would not have wanted it to stay lost. The plan was to return it, yes? Bring the caravans back after the Spanish left. They could not have foreseen what happened. Think carefully, my friend, because
this
is your chance. Maybe your best chance.”

The elders retreated then stopped in sync. Alicia thought their simultaneous movements a little unsettling. The crowd of villagers at her back continued to grow, men returning from the fields and women and children leaving their houses to examine the newcomers. A light breeze blew through the modest valley.

The elder finally betrayed an emotion, that of weariness, and turned to his fellows. Some rapid-fire conversation ensued which Crouch didn’t look to Cruz to provide a translation for. It would only show bad manners. At last the main elder turned his attention back toward Cruz.

“They speak of the great journey. Seven caravans leaving the capital during that ageless night, heading north.” Cruz’s eyes widened at that as he passed on the information. Crouch fancied the tribe had never imparted so much before. “With prodigious treasures aboard. They speak of the cartwheel, what many call the original pieces of eight, the pre-eminent Aztec treasure of all time and the main item the elders might really want returned. Primarily they speak of each building’s jewels, because as you know every structure was stripped of its underlying gold and jewels and packed separately. The horde, the
value,
must be immense.”

Crouch betrayed no emotion. “What else do they say?”

“They want us to wait. Wait here.”

Alicia glanced sideways at her team. Russo was as observant as she, constantly scanning the terrain. Healey bore a look of wonder on his face and the glow of fire in his eyes.
That’ll do,
she thought. Lex shifted his weight from foot to foot as if uncomfortable and no doubt bottling up some kind of complaint. She watched the elders retreat into their cluster of houses.

Crouch didn’t turn around. “Stay alert, people. One way or another we’ll be out of here shortly.”

Sometime later the elders reappeared, shuffling at a slow march, one after the other. The leader grasped something in his right hand, a metal box of the modern world, somehow seeming incongruous out here. With an odd kind of reverence he placed it on the ground at his feet and then knelt before it.

He looked up. Cruz translated as he spoke. “If you know your Aztec history then you will know what a codex is.” He added, “It’s a book written by the ancient Aztecs, largely pictorial but they can contain a version of the Nahuatl language too. The old pictograms can be translated into writing now that the Nahuatl language has evolved.” He smiled at the elder. “There are very few surviving codices from the pre-conquest era.”

“Any that describe their capital’s destruction?” Crouch wondered.

“No. But there are over half a dozen bound manuscripts in existence. The Codex Aubin, Codex Mendoza and Florentine to name a few. If this is a codex” —he indicated the box— “it represents a great treasure in itself.”

The elder opened the box very slowly, reached in and pulled out a sheaf of papers. Cruz’s sharp intake of breath was enough to confirm the man’s suspicions. Now, however, the elder again started to talk, this time with a gravity to his tones.

Cruz blinked, suddenly looking shocked. “What? Are you kidding?” he said in English, forgetting himself before reverting to the elders’ language.

Alicia frowned. “What did he say?”

But Cruz was shaking his head, clearly upset, disagreeing with the elder. After a moment the man put his hand onto the top of the box and threatened to shove the papers back inside.

Crouch raised a hand. “What’s the problem, Jose? Perhaps I can help.”