Clive Cussler - The Eye of Heaven

“I suppose so. No way I’ll be able to get any sleep now,” Remi said. “Tell you what, I’ll go with you.”

“No need. It could take a while to find something that’s open. Are chicken enchiladas good for everyone?” Maribela asked.

They all nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Do you want some money?” Sam asked.

“I’d say that you’ve made enough contribution to Mexico over the course of this adventure that we can buy you take-out food. It’s the least I can do.”

When Maribela had gone, Antonio looked around at the cave. “I’m going to get one of the work lamps from the temple so we have light.”

“Good idea. And while you’re at it, see if you can arrange more security. Finding this changes everything,” Sam said.

“Will do.”

Lazlo moved to the chest and examined the icons, careful not to touch them. Antonio returned a few minutes later with an LED lamp and set it near the Eye of Heaven so Remi could get photographs of everything. Once she’d filmed each item in the cave, they moved back to the landing, where she repeated the process with the carvings. When she was finished, they wearily climbed the stairs to the temple, Sam leading, Antonio behind him, Remi and Lazlo bringing up the rear.

An explosion of gunfire erupted from above, sounding like cannon fire in the enclosed space. The body of one of the officers tumbled down the stairs, his rifle clattering next to him. Sam stopped the man’s fall, checked his pulse, and grabbed the rifle as Antonio freed the man’s service pistol. Nobody said a word, their ears ringing, the policeman’s lifeless form blocking half the stairway.

Janus Benedict’s voice called out from the temple above.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Fargo. This isn’t the hill you want to die on, old chap. I assume you’re down there and by now have your hands on the guard’s rifle. Just put it down, nice and easy, and come out with your hands up.” Janus Benedict’s voice was calm and reasonable, like he was discussing a chess move.

Sam’s eyes searched the opening. “How do I know you won’t butcher us like you did this poor man?”

“Not my style. But my local partners aren’t as patient as I, so if you don’t drop any weapons, you’ll be facing a group you have no chance against. And they look jumpy.” Janus paused. “And, of course, there’s the Mexican woman. They’re holding a gun to her head. If this goes any further awry, it’s on you. Put down the pistol and it will all work out. You have my word.”

“Your word? A thief and a murderer?” Sam spat.

Janus’s tone hardened. “This is your last chance and then I’m afraid the lads here will shoot the young lady and toss her body down to you as an indication of their resolve. We don’t have a lot of time to quibble now that there’s been gunfire. Reinforcements will be here soon and I intend to be gone by then. So what’s it going to be? Prove a point and the girl gets it, or be sensible and live to fight another day?”

Antonio exchanged a look with Sam and shook his head, but Sam rose and tossed the rifle through the gap. Antonio scowled and then tossed the pistol up.

“We’re unarmed,” Sam called out and raised his hands.

“Yes. That’s much better,” Janus said as Sam climbed out of the opening, followed by Antonio. Maribela was standing next to Janus by the tomb entry, Reginald holding a pistol, Guerrero behind them with his own handgun, its ugly muzzle pointed in their direction.

Antonio’s face radiated relief, and then confusion, as Maribela smiled and stayed by Janus’s side as he approached. Guerrero moved to the discarded guns, kicked them a few feet farther away, and took up a position next to Reginald, his weapon trained on them.

Sam locked eyes with Janus. “Even for you, this is a low moment, Benedict. This is how you want to be remembered?”

“Not my doing, old chap. Really. But the locals do things differently and it’s their ball, so to speak. When in Rome …” Janus said, shaking his head. “Believe me, all the killing is as appalling to me as it is to you.”

“But you didn’t stop it.”

“Couldn’t. But I don’t condone it. I requested that this be done as antiseptically as possible. But I’m afraid that there’s a limit to how far I can influence the natives. A bloodthirsty bunch. Not my choosing, but there it is.”

“You’d have been right at home in Nuremberg.”

“Shut your filthy mouth or I’ll add your body to the pile,” Reginald threatened, his pistol pointing at Sam. “Who do you think you are, anyway? You’re lucky you’re still breathing, you ignorant American pleb.”

“What’s this, Janus? Brought your brother along to do the dirty work? Didn’t want to break a nail with the bloody stuff?” Sam taunted.

Reginald stepped forward and struck Sam across the face with his pistol. Sam grunted and held his hand up to where the butt had split his cheek open.

Janus turned to Reginald. “Now, then, no need for that. I’m sure they’ll be sensible.” He returned his attention to Sam. “Where’s your lovely bride, Fargo?”

Sam returned his stare but didn’t say anything for a few beats. “Rot in hell, Benedict.”

Janus shook his head, as if dealing with an ill-behaved child, and pulled an iPhone from his pocket. “Never mind. Ah, I see she’s down on the stairs. Hoping for one of your infamous Fargo miracles, I’d wager.” He cleared his throat. “Remi? Be a dear and don’t make me come get you. I know you’re there. Come out and play.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “A tracking device?”

“You are a bright one, aren’t you? Yes, I’ve been aware of your every move since Spain. Your wife’s lucky talisman is also my lucky talisman. Well worth the paltry sum it cost for the homing device.”

Several moments later, Remi moved from the gap, slowly, her flashlight gripped tightly, an expression of loathing being Janus’s reward. Lazlo lagged behind, looking shocked, his hands raised over his head.

Remi sneered at Janus. “I thought I smelled vermin. Should have known it was you, Benedict.”

“There, there. Don’t be such a bad loser. Not becoming at all.” Janus shrugged. “I love your necklace, by the way. You really have no idea how much.”

Remi tore the necklace off and tossed it on the ground. Maribela stepped forward and picked it up. “Very nice. A little vulgar, for my taste, but I’ll smile whenever I wear it.”

Remi started forward, fury in her eyes. “You scum.”

Janus stepped toward her. “Now, now, dear woman. I’d hate for your last breaths to be tarnished with unpleasantness.”

Sam spat blood on the dirt at his feet. “Then you are planning to kill us. So much for the moral high ground. You’re nothing but a two-bit thief and a murderer. Never bright enough to locate your own treasures, always reduced to stealing.”

Janus frowned. “You’ve got quite an ugly mouth on you, haven’t you? Both of you. I won’t be doing any such thing. However, my colleague here probably isn’t predisposed to leaving any loose ends, so I’m afraid that it doesn’t look good for you celebrating another anniversary together. The brother will be spared, with the promise that if he speaks a word, both he and his sister will meet with untimely ends. But you two pose a problem for which there’s only one obvious solution. If it’s any consolation, I’ll put in a request that it be swift and painless.”

Janus consulted his Patek Philippe wristwatch. “Do try to enjoy your final moments.”

“You’re cursed, Benedict,” Sam promised, drawing Remi to him.

Janus looked past the Fargos and eyed the stairway opening, taking in the slab off to the side. He moved closer and looked down into the dark space while Guerrero and Reginald kept their weapons trained on the group. After several seconds, he stepped back and turned to Maribela with the hint of a smile.