Operation London (27 page)

Ava thought she saw Lucia in the mix, the only person whose eyes were not compressed with ecstasy, but she couldn't be sure
. Angel led them to a private corner where huge leather couches surrounded a bearskin rug. Women were lying all over, some too drugged to move, some seemingly aroused by every movement and sound.

"A huge party where everyone is on X," Magdalene said quietly
. "Don't eat or drink anything!"

Ava nodded and kept a close eye on Angel as he made his way to a group of men dressed like LA thugs
. As he laughed and talked with them, he trailed his fingers over the bodies of the women possessively. It turned Ava's stomach to see how much disrespect one man could have. Her mind was suddenly snapped back into reality when Magdalene jumped up and whispered something to Angel, whose face took on an excited glow as he nodded his permission. She came to the couch and pulled Ava up, leading her out to the dance floor.

From a distance the whole thing had seemed like just dancing, but up close it was verging on an orgy
. The dancers were all drugged, all bent on enjoying themselves to the fullest, and all seemingly unaware that anyone else might be able to see them. Ava and Magdalene kept close and made their way to the insulated center of the gyrating group, trying to stay clear of flailing hands grabbing for flesh.

"Where do you want to start?" Magdalene asked, throwing her hands above her head and rocking her small hips.

"We need to make it outside and under the house. I know she's there. I feel like there's probably some kind of trap door or secret entrance," Ava said, pushing her hands up and down her lithe body.

"We'll duck out in five minutes, you first through the side door
. I'll follow out the bathroom window. Are you armed?"

Ava felt the cold metal pressing against her stomach
. The dress had a decorative bunch of flowers right there for a very good reason. "Yes. Magdalene, be careful," Ava said, searching her friend's glowing eyes.

"Same to you, Ava
. We'll find her. Don't worry."

The beat never ended, the dancers never stopped, so escaping the throng unnoticed was easy
. Ava melded out the side door and no one looked over. Magdalene headed to the bathroom at the same time.

Outside the scream of so many insects hit Ava's ears like an angry symphony
. She worked her way around the soft sands of Angel's yard, around to a blank piece of wall that had showed up on the floor plan as an entrance. It was Cormac's guess that the door would rotate out if he could find the exact point of pressure. Ava ran her hands up and down along the edges until she felt the satisfying swing of an open door. Turning sideways, she let herself in, giving one last wary look to the starlit paradise. She couldn't tell if it was just nerves or her instincts, but it felt like someone was watching her.

Now wasn't the time to let fear take over, she told herself
. Crouching low, she began walking along the corridor, gun held at her side. She needed to keep out of sight and stay near to the ground, but that wasn't an easy feat in stiletto heels. She managed, touching each door with her gun so it led into the room before she did.

The long hallway was hung with rich, colorful tapestries copied from ancient Mayan
temples. The lighting was low and harsh, forcing Ava to strain her eyes in order to make out the details in the hall. She was looking for something out of place, something to indicate that a human life was struggling to survive in this eerie world.

She crept noiselessly, starting when she heard the creak of a floorboard behind her
. Gun ready, she looked around quickly before shimmying behind a thick tapestry to hide herself. Three girls walked past her, heads lolling on their necks in an obviously drugged state. They made their way to a door and piled in, giggling as they pulled it shut with a tangle of hands and arms.

Ava let out a long breath and leaned back, noticing for the first time that the wall she was next to was recessed
. One palm flat against the terracotta, one fisted around the cold steel of the gun, Ava followed the wall behind the rich template of warriors and citizens, marketplaces and palaces. The Mayan stories shielded another world, one behind the rooms hidden beneath the house.

Not quite sure how she would be able to maneuver her way around, Ava simply plastered herself flat, her heart thudding against her chest erratically
. Her eyes scanned the length, looking for some detail, any detail that would make this dark, uniform length come alive.

Her breath was heavy and hot, trapped between a thick, moist wall and the warmth of the tapestries
. Sweat beaded on her forehead, along her collarbone, on her upper lip. Each step she took shook the droplets, making them cascade down her body, plastering her hair to her face and making the fabric of her clothing stick to her curves. She swallowed hard, a sound she was certain could be heard all through the vast house, and the gun she clenched in one hand began to bite into her skin.

Another misplaced noise made her drop to her knees in a primal reaction to her own fear and uncertainty
. She perked her ears, but heard nothing else, and she gave her body a chance to relax before she got back up. Breathing in and out deeply, she noticed the slightly artificial smell of air-conditioned air. Her lungs burned slightly as she pulled the chilled air in, and she got on all fours immediately. Her hands ran along the edges of the floor, feeling for a source.

She crawled desperately, at one point absolutely certain she had lost the trail entirely
. Panic almost made her lose her sense of purpose, and if it weren't for the gentle wash of cold air, Ava might have been overcome by the elements of heat and dark pressing down on her.

Licking her lips dizzily, she tried to refocus, to redirect herself so that she could find Marie and get the hell out
. Something sinister hung in the air here, something she couldn't put a finger on at all. When this case had started for her it had been all about clues, leads, disguises. She grimaced to admit that it had been fun, a challenge. Everything about it reminded her of the thrill of Division Lynx without any of the accountability. And it had all been so easy, so fluid.

But it had all been deceiving.

There was an element to this case that she had never encountered in all of her work with Division Lynx. Angel Espino was a true sociopath, a man without a soul. She had dealt with mean, with arrogant, with cruel but never with the true hate that Angel Espino exhibited. No one and nothing had ever chilled her to the bone the way he did. And something told her that the worst was far from over.

Suddenly she heard what sounded like a moan
. Shaking her head with annoyance, she wondered if it was possible that she had imagined the sound. Cocking her head, she listened and heard it again. Another low, soft moan.

Ava leaned her hand against the wall and noticed a seam
. The seam wasn't very large and it wasn't extremely deep. It was a well-fashioned door, created to hide. The one problem was that it was seeping chilly air, filling the pocket behind the tapestry with a burst of cool.

Ava dug the fingers of her hand in along the seam, trying to find a way to open the door
. It held tight. She couldn't locate any hinges, she couldn't find any knobs or handles. Her fingers began to work with rapid desperation, seeking the mystery that refused to reveal itself.

Finally she gave in, leaning her cooled forehead against the wall in defeat.

She felt a shift.

Excited, she stood up and pushed her hand against the door, moving it in
. The wall gave and revealed a short foyer and a door at the end of that.

Ava was about to rush to the door, but caught herself just in time
. She had lost some of the edge that had made her such a valuable agent to Division Lynx. She had become too emotionally involved in this case and it was hurting her chances of finding Marie alive.

Centering herself, she crept to the side, keeping herself flat and low, holding her gun ready
. She heard one of her heels click against the cold granite floor of the entryway and she almost lost her breath. No one knew where she was and there would be no backup if something went wrong. She didn't have any idea who or what waited on the other side of that door, and something inside of her was begging her to stop and get help.

Ava squashed that something back and did what she needed to do: she went into the
dark to find Marie.

Magdalene's face was pushed up against a rich tapestry, forcing her to stare into the crazed, sideways eye of a Mayan ruler with a plumed headdress
. She could feel the bite of a metal knifepoint in her back, and she said a quick Hail Mary before finding out what exactly was going on.

"I was a little lost
. Angel should be looking for me any moment now," she said loudly, taking her chances that the person holding her wouldn't ram the blade into her back the moment she spoke. She felt the metal move back and forth, as if the person holding looked side to side, maybe over his shoulder. Angel's name alone was enough to make the blade draw back after the first hesitation.

"Why would Angel be waiting around for a little blonde hoe like you?" asked the knife holder, gripping a mass of Magdalene's wheat colored curls tightly.

Cormac had just circled the small town, asking a few natives about the best parties. He wanted to pick up as much information about Angel's place as he could without sounding like he was fishing for it. A man with Angel's backing could afford to have people hired just to sit and listen for anything suspicious. Miguel knew how that worked, knew in his guts that they might be walking into an armed fortress whenever they did make it to Angel's.

The strenuous moment was broken up by Cormac's hideous Spanish
. It nearly burned Miguel's ears to hear his mother tongue so abused by the sincere Scottish man. It was much more discreet to sit back and let Cormac take a go than jump in with his level of fluency. After all, anything out of place could reach Angel's ears, and a Spanish-speaking tourist with a Scot wasn't necessarily something you saw everyday.

The people in the town were warm and more than receptive to questions about good places to dance and eat
. A few of the skinnier ones, the ones with a bright eyed look that only those hungry for drugs have told them in low tones about the best places to find "sweet things."  One place that kept coming up was Angel de Mar: the Angel of the Sea.

The Jeep hugged every bump in the road, thrusting the men into the side bars and towards each other.

"Take it easy, Cormac. We won't be any help to the girls if we're dead," Miguel said, rubbing his already aching back.

"I'm trying, mate
. Have you had a look at these roads. And I though we had some thick shit back home!"  Another pothole caused them to lurch to one side, suddenly spinning the car towards a grove of thick, fruit heavy trees. Cormac nearly stood up in the seat pressing the brakes to the floor, making the impact less traumatic.

It seemed like an hour passed before the entire scene slowed to a mind-numbing stop, but Miguel knew it had been only a few short moments.

"Cormac, are you all right!" he asked, moving a hand to his friend's shoulder.

"Ooch, this hurts like a bitch, but I don't think I've gone and killed myself this time
. And how are you faring?"

"I'm fine
. Can you move your wrist?"  Miguel's dark eyes filled with a terror that was suddenly very real. Being one down from four was taking a large chunk out of a small team of people necessary for this mission.

"Oh holy Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Cormac cried, his handsome face twisting into a pained grimace.

Miguel immediately checked in the back to search through the very limited first aid kit.

"Dammit, Cormac!  There's almost nothing but band aids and bug spray in here!"

"Well, I heard the bugs were as big as dogs so I removed some of the nonessentials," he argued back, praying that he didn't faint from the pain.

Miguel managed to find a roll of tape and some sticks to use as makeshift splints in the wooded area near the Jeep.

"Alright, I'll try to make this as painless as possible," he said.

Ten minutes later, a sweating Cormac had a rag stuffed in his mouth as Miguel put the final touches on
. Spitting it out abruptly, he glared at his friend turned doctor.

"Well, man, thanks for doing all you could to keep the damned pain down
. Next time I'll just shoot my own fucking arm off!"

"Next time you can drive a little better and leave the first aid kit alone," Miguel returned
. "Want to switch places?"

"Hell, if you think you can navigate this bit of road better, by all means," Cormac sniped back grumpily, holding his wrist with sulky sadness
. He was almost certain that Miguel had broken his wrist again, but the pain was so intense that he was unwilling to raise his friend's suspicions to risk another botched splinting job.

They continued down the winding road, catching site of a virtual palace just off of the soft white sands and crystal waters of the ocean
. Miguel pulled over immediately, turning off the lights and grabbing his bag from the back.