The Twisted Cross (26 page)

"Is that unusual?"

"Yes, it is," the monk said. "We know of Skinhead adviso traveling with gangs like Dos Chicos. But this is the first tin we've encountered a force made up entirely of Skinheads.

Hunter opened the plane's engine cowling maintenani door and peered in at its power plant. "What does that te us?" he asked. "So many of them in the area at once . . .'

"I'm afraid it means they have suddenly attached a ne importance to us," David said.

"Maybe they know I'm here," Hunter said quietly.

"I'm sorry, but I think I have to agree with you," the mor replied. "It's really the only explanation. They were contei just to arm the Chicos before.

Now, this . . ."

Hunter saw that everything inside the engine checked ou so he closed the small door and wiped his hand with a ra

"Well, I won't be here much longer," he said. "But how w they know that?"

Brother David shrugged. "They won't," he said. "And there's a more frightening aspect to this. Our patrol found a Hind helicopter out near where the 'Heads set upon us. It was destroyed, burned."

"Really?" Hunter asked. "By who?"

"By the Skinheads themselves, I would guess," David answered. "It can only mean one thing . . ."

Hunter didn't have to have it spelled out for him; he knew what the burnt out chopper meant. "They were on a suicide mission," he said. "They burned their own means of transport before setting out to get us."

The Top Monk nodded. "Yes," he said. "We have definitely caught their attention. These pagans don't just send their hari-kiri squads after anyone .

. ."

Hunter thought about it for a moment, then said: "Okay, I feel responsible for this. I think you'd better consider evacuating your people."

"I agree, Major," David said. "But where can we possibly go where it is safe?

And where it's big enough to accommodate us all?"

Hunter flashed a smile. "I have just the place in mind," he said.

It only took about ten hours in all to move The Brothers, their families, their girlfriends, their weapons and their equipment to the abandoned pyramid hotel at Cancun.

Hunter rode shotgun in the sky as the long convoy of trucks wound its way the sixty miles to the resort city. By midnight, the Fighting Brothers had christened their new abbey. The beauty of the place - in addition to its lavish space and easily defended location - was that to its rear was an entire fleet of luxury yachts, most in running condition. So should the Brothers come under attack from a superior force, they always had the option of taking to the boats and escaping.

All these precautions made Hunter feel better about the safety of the monks and their people, and by the end of the long day, he was bushed. He spent the night with Janine and

Lori again, making love to both then letting them massa his tired muscles to sleep.

The next morning dawned bright and hot. Hunter woli down a quick breakfast, then was down on the docks, getti his airplane ready for flight again. He was heading for C chen Itza, most likely the next set of ruins on the Canal IS

zis' plunder list.

He was just about to load on his dufflebag of gear when saw Brother David walking down the long dock toward hi Oddly, he was carrying a full knapsack and his rifle.

"I was just coming up to say adios to you, Brother Davi Hunter told him.

"No need for that, Brother Hunter," David replied. W that the big man threw his knapsack into the pilot's compa ment of the Kingfisher. "We still have a long road to tra together. . ."

"You're not actually thinking of coming with me," Hun said.

"I am," was the stoic reply.

"But, your people," Hunter said. "They need you."

"But, Brother Hunter, you need me more," the monk plied, matter-of-factly. "I can't expect you to face these fas< infidels alone, not after you saved us the other day. It was act I must replay."

Hunter shook his head. "I told you that repayment was necessary, Brother," he said. "Besides - "

"Besides nothing," the monk told him, lowering his M-into the airplane. "Paul is capable of watching the flock awhile. As for myself, I am a trained soldier. I can hold i own. I will not be a burden to you."

Hunter was about to counterpoint the man's statenn when he saw the commodore strolling down the docks tow; them. He too was carrying a full knapsack and a weapo

"Now what the hell is going on?" Hunter asked.

"I am going too," the commodore declared.

"This is getting out of hand . . ." Hunter said.

"No," the feisty little Italian said. "I am a trained soldie can hold my own. I will not be a burden to you."

The litany sounded very familiar - too familiar. David and the commodore had obviously rehearsed the little scene several times. Hunter at once realized that he was victim of a conspiracy of friends.

There was no sense arguing with them -two more stubborn people did not exist.

"Okay," the pilot said. "It's going to be crowded, but I appreciate the help .

. ."

The commodore slapped him twice on the back. "We knew you'd feel that way, Hawk, old friend."

"Let us be off," Brother David said. "The Lord's wind will guide us."

Brother David took his place in the Kingfisher's rear-facing gunner's seat, while the commodore strapped himself in the hammock just behind Hunter pilot's seat. The take-off went smooth as silk. Hunter slowly put the Kingfisher into a climb out over the ocean. Then he turned inland, flying directly over the pyramid to see the entire congregation gathered on the roof and waving goodbye.

"Negotiations!" Dantini said angrily.

"That's the word," Cobra Captain Tyler told him for what seemed like the hundredth time. "We heard it on the way here, and we got it so quickly only because we have scramblers on board. But they thought it was important that you guys know."

They were sitting in Dantini's command tent high on the island hill. Coffee had been the drink of preference - up until Tyler broke the news to Dantini and Burke. Now the tequila had been going around non-stop for hours.

"But what in the world is there to talk about with them?" Dantini asked again.

"They're Nazis and they've got nuclear bombs floating around in the Canal, for Christ's sake. What's to discuss?"

Tyler took a long swig of the Mexican firewater. They had been arguing the same points over and over all night. Now the sun was coming up. "It's more complicated than that," he said. "They're entrenched and the bulk of our forces are hundreds of miles from the Canal Zone. Whatever action takes place, there is undoubtedly going to be a heavy loss of life. Our top man, General Dave Jones, is the kind of guy who would dc anything humanly possible to prevent unnecessary bloodshed."

"Does that include playing footsies with Nazis?" Burke asked sarcastically.

Now it was Tyler's turn to get angry. "You're out of line, Lieutenant," he told the man sternly. "You don't know Jones The fucking guy is George Washington, Abe Lincoln and

FDR all rolled into one. You couldn't have a better guy in your corner . . ."

"Is that right?" Burke drunkenly spouted off again. "Then what about your famous Hawk Hunter? Where the hell is he during all this?"

Tyler eyed his partner Crockett and shook his head slowly. "Like we told you, he's on a very sensitive mission," Tyler said finally. "We really can't say anymore than that."

"This is bullshit!" Burke exploded. "I knew it was a big mistake listening to these guys."

"Hang on, Lieutenant," Dantini interrupted. He then turned to Tyler.

"You've got to remember that we were hired to do a job here," he said. "We have people -landowners, businessmen - both in Panama and in Big Banana, who are laying a lot of money on us, for the sole purpose of us attacking the Nazis. What are we supposed to tell them? The Big Powers are negotiating, so it's 'fuck you?' "

"No," Crockett said. "You tell them to be patient. Hang on. See what happens .

. ."

"How long?" Dantini asked. "How long do we wait?"

"Until we get the word from DC," Tyler said. "Whatever it may be . . ."

"Great," Burke huffed. "So now we have to sit around for what another two weeks? Or two months? Or two years? Doing nothing?"

"No one said anything about 'doing nothing,' Lieutenant," Tyler told the man.

"In fact, there are some very important things we have to do while these talks are going on.

"In fact, that's why we're here . . ."

Elizabeth was amazed that she had actually been allowed t take a bath.

Like Krupp, she too had been carried out of the caves on stretcher, and given first aid by the camp doctor. Truth was there was nothing really wrong with her as a result of being i the cavern for nearly 24 hours -many times in her schoc work, she'd stayed in caves up to four to five days at a time But the doctor, who was actually a South African, was hard pressed yet compelled by his profession to recommend sorru thing. So he prescribed that she-should take a bath and be fed hot meal.

To this end, her guards somehow rustled up a plastic three foot tub and set it up behind the doctor's tent, which was righ beside the Grand Pyramid at Uxmaluna. They even erected hastily-built curtain and some sheets, then provided her wit three, five-gallon drums filled with lukewarm water. Whe she lied to one of them and said that the doctor insisted she us soap, one man went off and returned five minutes later with bar of strong laundry soap. She didn't mind - at that point sh would have bathed in pure lye.

So she scrubbed herself over and over again until the wate was cool and murky.

Then she rinsed and dressed in the size small uniform they had provided for her. Well-clothed an clean for the first time in weeks, she stepped out from behin the curtain, expecting her guards to be waiting with handcufi and hood once again.

But they weren't . . .

The guards had left her. They were gone, hoping to b closer to the activity near the entrance to the tunnel which led to the chamber full of gold.

It was amazing what the fever could do to people, she thought.

Before she had led the Nazis to the huge gold find, she was dirty, beaten, starved, always in handcuffs, always hooded and nearly raped on several occasions. It had been a group effort on their part. But now there was a new

"crowd mentality" at work. Drying her hair, she walked, casually and unescorted, back to the truck that had been her prison. Guards and officers passed her, yet no one said a word. The tons of gold in the tunnel cavern deep beneath Grand Uxmaluna were all that mattered. It had become their whole world, their entire existence. For the moment at least, they didn't even know she was there.

She was fascinated at the flip-flop in group dynamics. Testing the theory, she walked, again unescorted, to the mess tent, and simply told the cooks that the doctor had prescribed a hot meal for her. To her amazement, they not only rustled her up a plate of scrambled eggs and a pot of black coffee, one of them even carried it back to her truck for her! She dismissed the man with as much authority as she could muster. Then closing the curtains on the back of the vehicle herself, she dove into the meal with giddy abandon.

Ever since she had been taken out of the cave, the camp had been a beehive of activity. Helicopters carrying Party bigwigs were shuttling in and out. A TV

video crew had arrived and were trying to figure out how much cable they would need to get a direct feed from the chamber to the satellite dish they had brought in on a giant Soviet-made Hook helicopter. From there, the video signal would be bounced back to Panama City and presumably, to the High Commander's personal set.

She had briefly considered bolting into the woods and escaping, but in the same instant knew that even the thought of it was foolhardy. She wouldn't have made it a mile before she would have been caught - not by the Nazi guards but by the mortal dangers of the jungle itself. If some poisonous snake or spider didn't get her, then the deep underbrush, with its many opportunities for breaking arms or legs, or for ripping flesh,

would have. Once lame or bleeding, a larger animal would seek her out. Once thirsty, only disease-bearing water could be drunk. Once hungry, nothing could be eaten.

So she had to stay -but not only to survive. There was a cloud of an idea forming in the dark recesses of her mind. Didn't some measure of retribution have to be delivered here? Had the tables so turned? Something had happened to her down in that cave with Krupp, something she could feel but not describe.

It had started with a noise. Something went snap! deep within her brain. She had heard it -clearly, distinctly - in between the time Krupp passed out and when she had been able to revive the failing lantern. She had sat in the complete darkness all that time, reliving the horrible hours that they had forced her to stay in the caves, tied and blindfolded.

But this time, she heard something go snap! And she was never the same after that . . .

Suddenly it all made sense. Together, both she and Krupp became a little madder than they had been before. It was how they reacted to it that made the difference. When plunged into total darkness, die Nazi officer had started hallucinating. Then he had tried to scratch his eyes out.

Accustomed to the inky black, she had started plotting . . .

Having finished her meal, Elizabeth sat on the tailgate of her truck and watched the strange show around the entrance to the cave. It looked just like a beehive, people flitting in and out, each one with the mask of joyful determination on his face. What was it? Did the guards and the underlings think The Twisted Cross was going to split the booty evenly among them? Did any of them actually think they would get even a nugget of the gold? She didn't know. She just sat and watched.

Ten minutes went by when she saw a very curious, almost humorous sight. It was another person being brought out of the cave on a stretcher. A closer look revealed that the person was the smelly little man named Strauberg. She would learn later that upon seeing the tons of gold in the chamber, the man had fainted dead away.