Clive Cussler - The Eye of Heaven

Janus Benedict fought to control the simmering rage that was threatening to explode as he watched Reginald’s smug face describe his nocturnal tomb raid. Reginald was high on more than adrenaline, Janus thought, as well as excited at having made off with the treasure under Sam’s and Remi’s noses.

Reginald’s self-preservation instinct kicked in toward the latter part of his account as he registered the flat look in Janus’s eyes — a look he knew well, even if he didn’t understand why his brother wasn’t happy at the news.

When he finished, Janus stared at the ornate ceiling of the Mexico City villa he’d rented for the week, lost in thought.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” Reginald demanded. “We got the treasure.”

“Quite. But let’s expand on that a little. You orchestrated and participated in a night attack on a historical location with members of the Los Zetas cartel and slaughtered a dozen soldiers in the process?”

“Yes, I told you. But we got away clean.”

“‘Got away clean.’ You murdered a dozen men and have made yourself and me part of it.”

“Part of what? We have the treasure.”

“Ah. The treasure. Which is hardly the stuff of which dreams are made, looking over your photos. And where is it, pray tell?”

“I told you. Weren’t you listening to anything I said? Guerrero has it in a safe house.”

Janus stood and moved to a window to gaze out at the park. When he turned, his face was impassive. “You don’t have any idea what you’ve done, do you?”

“Well, actually, I do rather know what I did. I got the bloody treasure, didn’t I?”

“No, what you did was partner with the most vicious bunch of lowlife murderers on the planet in a bloodbath that will have the Mexican government scouring the Earth for those artifacts for years to come. So you’ve not only ruined any ability to market the goods, but you’ve made me a bedfellow with killers who would just as soon cut your heart out as eat breakfast. Instead of being a disinterested vendor who supplies these animals with what they require on the arms side, you’ve made me a partner with them. Oh, and if any of these thugs ever gets into hot water and wishes to barter information, they now have something they can exchange — not only about their chief but also about you and, by association, me.”

“I … I didn’t think …”

Janus’s explanation was like a blow to Reginald’s face. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said. You didn’t think. At all. If you had, you would have spoken with me and I would have explained why your idiotic scheme was dangerous and stupid. I would have arranged to have the cartel execute the raid without you there, with us merely on the receiving end of the goods. If they were successful, with no expectation of immediate financial gain on our part.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I know these parasites and they’ll want their money. They won’t be interested in why it could take several years for this to cool down. Which, because I’m their partner now, I’ll have to cover or risk their ire. So, you dim fool, you’ve not only exposed us both to considerable danger, now and in the future, but you’ve also cost me a pretty penny, which I may or may not ever recover.”

“But we have—”

“Hell’s bells, Reginald! We have nothing. Los Zetas have a bunch of trinkets we won’t be able to market and whose very existence endangers you. We have customers who will now believe they’re our partners in crime. We have an ongoing risk that one or all of them is eventually arrested and gives you up in exchange for leniency. And guess what? Most places in the world will extradite a mass murderer, you bloody imbecile.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Your word against theirs. Do you want to protest it while rotting in a Mexican jail? I simply can’t understand how you thought this was a good idea.”

“Well, it’s done and there’s no undoing it,” Reginald said, arms folded over his chest, his tone truculent.

“I can’t believe I allowed you into my affairs. Really. You don’t have any idea what you’re doing and yet you still think you’re the smartest chap in the room. Unbelievable.”

“See, Janus? This is exactly the kind of thing I’m getting sick of. You dressing me down like a schoolboy.”

“You’re getting sick of it?” Janus took a series of deep breaths, his hands shaking with rage, his pulse pounding in his ears like a bass drum. He willed his heartbeat slower. “Reginald, you’ve embarked us on a disastrous course. And, worse, you still don’t know what the Fargos are really up to.”

“What do you mean ‘up to’?”

“They’re still here. In Mexico City. And I have it on good authority they’re back at the site. Which doesn’t sound like predictable behavior if they’d found their treasure and were calling it a day, does it?”

“But there’s nothing left except for that old stiff. Maybe they’re gathering their equipment or having a last look before buzzing off?”

“Perhaps. Of course, if you hadn’t gone on a rampage, we’d still be watching and waiting with the advantage ours. Now they’re warned and are sure to be even more cautious. A dangerous state of affairs.”

Reginald lit one of his cigarettes before moving to the bar to pour himself a healthy slug of Scotch. He downed it in two swallows and turned to face his brother.

“I’m sorry, Janus. I just thought I could surprise you …”

“You’ve certainly surprised me, that’s for sure,” Janus spat and then shook his head. “Call Guerrero. I want to meet with my new partner as soon as possible to discuss our options moving forward.”

The area around the Temple of the Moon had been closed off by the police and yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze as Lazlo and the Fargos neared the smaller pyramid next to it. The authorities looked to be finishing up their investigation, the bodies long since hauled to the morgue, any evidence already collected. The remaining officers stood around chatting. The excitement was over and they simply were running out the clock until the end of their shift.

Maribela approached as Remi was explaining their presence to two uniformed police standing sentry by the entry, a gap in the tape, and after a few terse words they were admitted. She led them to the research tent, where a dejected Antonio was sitting on a collapsible blue camp chair, his students sent home that morning after they’d arrived at what was now a war zone.

“Ah, there you are. The police are just winding things up. Shouldn’t be long now and then we can go in and survey the damage. I’m having the mummy carefully removed today to keep the jade intact and taken to the Institute for further study. Seems safer to have everything out of the crypt in case someone sees the news articles and thinks there may be some easy money in selling Quetzalcoatl’s remains on the black market to the highest bidder.”

Sam nodded. “Probably best. So now there’s just the empty chamber?”

“Yes. Of course, the chamber itself is historically significant, as are the carvings, but they’re not portable. We can arrange to have a locked gate installed over the next few days. That’s what many of the other areas have and it seems to work.”

“What about security at night?” Lazlo asked.

“We’ll have a small contingent of soldiers, but there’s nothing left to steal, so it’s purely for show. I’ll arrange for a construction crew to erect the gate tomorrow and we’ll only need the site security after that.”