James Acton 01 - The Protocol (10 page)

New York City, New York

“Is that a cell phone he picked up?” asked Lambert, staring at the video footage transmitted by one of the trailing agents.

Jasper leaned over Lambert’s shoulder as he peered at the monitor in front of them. “Yes it is. Can we listen in?”

“No. None of our agents in place have a parabolic.”

“Shit!” Jasper pointed to a young agent in the back of the van. “Turner, take a parabolic and get out there now!”

“Won’t I look kind of conspicuous, sir?”

“Fuck conspicuous, we need to hear that conversation!” yelled Jasper. “Go!”

Turner grabbed the parabolic dish out of an upper cabinet and exited the back of the van. He dodged the heavy morning traffic on Central Park West and sprinted into the park. He felt like an idiot. There was no way to be inconspicuous while carrying a one-foot diameter circular cone. As he neared the bench where Milton had just been, he received instructions over his earpiece as to where the target was now heading. He finally spotted Milton just as he reached a fountain. He saw him look down at the phone and flip it open, placing it to his ear.

Turner looked around for a hiding place.
No goddamned way am I standing in the open pointing this thing.
Running behind a nearby tree, he propped the dish on a branch. He pointed it toward Milton as he put the headphone in his ear. Static. He aimed more carefully and he could make out a few muffled words but nothing else. Just static.

It’s the fucking fountain!

Raising his hand to his mouth, he activated his comm. “Sir, I can’t hear a thing, the fountain is drowning everything out!” He didn’t have to be there to hear the string of curses at the other end.

“Get back here.”

“Can you hear me?” asked Acton.

“Barely, the fountain is pretty loud,” replied Milton, relieved to hear his friend’s voice again.

“Good, that means they can’t hear us, either. Listen old friend, I’m in danger and so are you just by talking to me, but I had no choice.”

“What are you talking about? In danger from who?” asked Milton, bewildered.

“I’m not sure. I think they were our troops, some sort of black ops thing. They killed everyone at the camp and they almost got me.”

“Our own troops? I was told it was rebels after your supplies or something you had found!”

“Who told you that bullshit?”

“Two State Department agents came to my office four days ago and told me what happened,” explained Milton. “They said you were missing and wanted me to contact them if I heard from you. I didn’t of course.”

“Good. They may be in on it. Listen carefully. For some reason I think they’re after what we found in Peru.”

“What did you find?”

“A crystal skull.”

“A crystal skull? Like Mitchell-Hedges?”

“Yes, exactly!” said Acton. He suddenly sounded like a teenage boy describing his first car. “It’s beautiful! I’ve seen pictures of them of course and had a chance to see the one in London up close, but I’ve never held one in my hand. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m sure it is, Jim, but why would they want to kill you over it?”

“I have no idea, but I think I might know who would. Problem is I need cash.”

“I thought you would so I brought some.”

“Listen,” said his friend, his tone becoming more serious. “They killed everyone, and they’re probably after me. If you want out, now’s the time to get out. I won’t judge you.”

“Jim, you’ve known me long enough to know I don’t leave my friends hanging,” replied Milton. “Now, how do I get this money to you?”

“First, we have to lose whoever’s tailing you.”

Milton listened to the plan then snapped the phone shut and tossed it in the fountain. He looked around again, trying to spot any pursuers, but gave up. There were just too many people in the park. He walked briskly toward the nearest subway station, down the stairs, paid his fare, then made his way out onto the platform. He scrutinized people descending the stairs, but no one stood out.
Too many suits.

His train arrived and he waited until the last second to jump aboard, hoping he might surprise whoever was following him. He took a seat and tried to look inconspicuous. Not hard considering this was a New York subway car. Nobody looked at anybody as they just tried to ignore their surroundings and make it to their destination with as little interaction with their fellow passengers as possible. He grabbed a newspaper from the seat beside him and buried his head behind it.

Turner and Jasper had both followed Milton into the subway station. When the train arrived, Turner boarded right away, just in case Milton tried anything last minute. Turner could always get off at the next stop if needed.

There he goes.

Jasper smiled to himself.
Predictable.
He made his way back up to the van and waited for Turner to let them know when he got off. In the meantime though, they at least knew which direction to travel. “Let’s head south.”

Washington, DC

“Detective Wheeler, this is Mendosa from the Medical Examiner’s Office.”

Wheeler stopped chewing on his foot long hot dog with the works and handed the pile of artery clogging fat and calories to Schultz who looked at it with disdain. “What have you got, Doc?” he said as he pulled out his notepad and pen.

“We had a hit on the John Doe’s prints,” said Mendosa.

“He was in AFIS?”

“No, he was in the Fed’s Employee database. You’re not going to believe who this kid is!”

“Who?”

“William Guthrie,” said Mendosa, “son of former Speaker George Guthrie. The kid started Monday as an intern at the White House.”

Wheeler scribbled the information onto his pad. “Still think this is a random mugging?”

“No,” agreed Mendosa. “I’ve examined the wound and our young vet was right. This was a professional hit made to look like a mugging.”

“Okay, I’m going to go see the congressman,” said Wheeler. “You keep me posted.” Closing his cell phone, he grabbed the hot dog from Schultz. He was about to take a bite when he realized he had lost his appetite. He threw it in the garbage can nearby and motioned to his partner. “This case just got a whole lot more interesting.”

Grand Central Station, New York City

Milton jumped off the subway at the last second, again hoping this would help. He had taken the subway daily when he lived in New York, but hadn’t been on it for over a decade. He didn’t miss it. The throngs of commuters made it difficult for him to reach the main floor of Grand Central Station. Once finally there, he headed through the Hyatt Hotel entrance directly toward the main floor bathrooms. He saw one that had a yellow sign in front, indicating it was closed for servicing, and walked confidently toward it then entered. He closed the door and, as his friend had promised, he found a piece of wood by the door. Wedging it between the door and the entrance wall, he tested it to make sure the door couldn’t be opened.

He went to the back of the bathroom, climbed up on the counter and pushed on the window. It swung open easily. Again, his friend had planned this perfectly. Milton struggled out the window.
Jim obviously forgot I sit behind a desk for a living.
The last time he had climbed out a window was after nearly being caught by his high school girlfriend’s father in her bedroom. It had been easier then.

He heard someone try the door handle to the bathroom. The board stopped it from opening. Whoever it was began pushing hard on the door, pounding on it and apparently throwing their shoulder into it. After a few moments of panic thinking he might be caught, Milton squeezed through the window. Dropping unceremoniously to the floor of a service corridor, he ran toward a door at the end below a lit red exit sign. He shoved the handle and burst through onto Lexington Avenue, much to the surprise of a few passersby.

He dusted himself off and looked around. The green Prius he was told to expect was there.
Jim, even running for his life he thinks of the environment.
He ran over and climbed in. The car sped off before he had a chance to even say hello.

Jasper finally broke through the bathroom door as the piece of wood blocking it splintered then snapped. He ran in and noticed the open window. He jumped up on the counter, pulled himself through, then dropped to the ground. He looked around for Milton, but couldn’t see him. He ran to the exit at the far end and looked up and down the busy street as he emerged. Milton was nowhere in sight. He radioed in. “I lost him.”

“Do you have him?”

“Yes, Sergeant Major, he’s in a vehicle heading south.”

“Okay, get a unit on them and let me know when they’re in position.” Dawson smiled.
It’s only a matter of time now.

Chevy Chase, Maryland

George Guthrie held his wife, trying to console her and fight the tears welling in his own eyes. He took a moment to steel his nerves as he placed his wife in a chair and turned to face the detective.

“How?”

“This may be difficult to hear, Mr. Guthrie,” said Wheeler as he motioned to a chair. “It appears to have been a professional job, made to look like a mugging.”

Guthrie dropped onto the chair, his legs giving out. “Professional?” he asked. “But, why? He was only eighteen!” This elicited a wail from his wife.

“It’s early in the investigation, sir,” replied Wheeler. “We will get to the bottom of this.”

Guthrie stood up and faced Wheeler. “I’m sure you know who I am. I still have a lot of friends in this town. If anyone gets in your way, stonewalls you in any way, you call me. I’ll open any doors you need. I want my Billy’s killer caught.”

“Yes, sir, you’ll be the first I call.”

Queens-Midtown Tunnel, New York City

“They shouldn’t be able to track us in here.”

Stuck in traffic in the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, Acton finally felt safe. He had been traveling for hours to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He had chosen the Prius not for environmental reasons, as he was sure his friend thought, but for the fact that the incredible gas mileage meant he wouldn’t need to stop for gas whereas anyone following him would. Also, the terrific pickup from a dead stop meant he could accelerate through traffic quicker than most vehicles.

He looked at his friend and smiled. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” Milton turned to face him. “Now, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, or am I going to have to beat it out of you? I’ve never been so terrified in my life!”

“Quite the adrenaline rush, eh?” laughed Acton.

Milton scowled.

“Okay, here’s what happened. Last week on our dig we found some hidden chambers inside a cave. It looks like the ancient Incans had bored out a huge chunk of the hillside to make these things. The carvings and whatnot were impressive in themselves, but inside, on a stone altar, was this.” He reached into his pocket and took out some Polaroids.

Milton’s jaw dropped. They were carefully taken close-ups of the skull from various angles. He held the photos up to look at it closer.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, “in an almost eerie way.” He flipped to a photo showing the hollowed out eyes. “This looks just like the Mitchell-Hedges skull.” He flipped to another picture.

 “Exactly the same as far as I can tell,” agreed Acton. “Completely smooth, no tool marks.”

“Where is it now?”

“On its way to London, God willing,” replied Acton. “When I was in Mexico I FedEx’d it using one of my student’s IDs, to an expert on the skulls there.”

“Who’s that?”

“Professor Laura Palmer of the British Museum. She’s been studying the one they have for years and is known as
the
expert in these things. She’s apparently examined all of the ones known to exist that are accessible,” explained Acton.

“What do you mean by accessible?”

“Some are in private collections.” Acton looked ahead as the traffic stirred again. “Okay, we’re almost out of the tunnel. You brought the money?”

“Yes.” Milton reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Nine thousand nine hundred dollars, the most I could withdraw without flagging a government inspection.” He handed it to Acton.

“I think it’s five thousand now,” said Acton as he took the envelope.

“What? Are you sure?”

“I think they changed it recently.” Acton stuffed the envelope in the inner pocket of his jacket. “You might be flagged, but they’re not looking for you.”

Milton tried to put on a brave face. “Well, the important thing is you’re now flush with cash. I assume you’re going to London?”

“Yes, there’s a midnight flight.”

“How are you going to get through security?”

“They’re not after me, they’re after the skull. They must know by now that I don’t have it so I’m probably safe for the moment.”

“Let’s hope so.” Milton nodded toward the pocket Acton had just put the envelope in. “There’s also a new Visa and bank card from the university in there. If you have an emergency, use them. Hopefully they won’t think to trace them.”

“Hopefully, but these guys are pros.”

“Any idea who they are?”

“I don’t know. They must have been some type of special forces. They came in by chopper, were well armed, state-of-the-art equipment, well disciplined,” recalled Acton. “I shot one and pistol-whipped another. That one I spoke to, his English was perfect Bronx.”

“You’re sure they were ours?” Milton shook his head. “I can’t believe that. Why would our government want to kill you over this?”

“I don’t know, but don’t forget, our
government,
as you put it, doesn’t always know what these black ops guys do. It could be some rogue element that the administration doesn’t even know about.”

Milton was still shaking his head. “I just can’t believe it. You’re sure it wasn’t the Shining Path or some other rebel group? They’ve killed a lot of people.”