Inca Kings

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Hayden watched Bruno carefully as the militia transporter walked around to the front of the truck. Two other men waited there, dressed in warm clothing. Bruno had whispered hurriedly that they were the men that would take the new recruits to the chateau. They were Dantanion’s men.

She flicked her attention to the back of the truck. It was small, no larger than a Transit, with white rusted paintwork and dented doors. The body was in disrepair; one of the plastic light covers shattered. One of the rear doors stood slightly ajar, and through the gap she made out seated figures. It occurred to her then that she could save these people — get them out of here — but then their one chance of gaining entry to the chateau would be gone.

Greater good, and all that.

She’d been working for and choosing the greater good most of her life. Where had it gotten her? No personal life to mention. Not even the sniff of a social life. A love life in tatters. The only thing she was good at, it seemed, was tracking down and engaging with bad guys.

Footsteps caught her attention and then all three men appeared around the side of the truck. “Get in,” one told her, and Bruno gestured at the open rear door.

“Wait,” the other man said. “We have to check her, brother.”

“Ah, thank you, brother. I almost forgot.”

Bruno rolled his eyes as the men stepped forward. One said, “You or I this time, Diaz?”

“You, Benedict. I will again check the truck.”

Both men bowed slightly to each other. Hayden stood without moving, trying to affect a beaten, weary stance which was as far from her character as possible. She dared not let Diaz see her eyes. In these men she saw a fluid grace, a well-contained power, and also a deference that could only have been forced upon them. The manner in which they engaged was the product of some kind of system, some other person’s ideal, for good or bad.

Diaz patted her down, pressed here and there, but did nothing to aggravate her. After a minute he nodded at the truck.

“Get in.”

She didn’t look at Bruno as she climbed into the back and took a seat on a dusty wooden bench. The seat was incredibly hard, and the backrest only the side of the van, making her hope they didn’t have far to go. Four people sat across from her. Three sat next to her. Two were men in their thirties, she guessed, the third a younger woman maybe early twenties. It was the younger woman that somehow managed a smile.

“Hey,” Hayden said.

“You don’t talk,” Benedict said, thick jacket rustling as he walked. “You don’t smile. You don’t stand. This is the law until you reach the chateau. Am I understood?”

Hayden wanted to challenge him with a stare, to stand and force the issue, but sat as meekly as the others, staring at the dirty floorboards that lined the base of the truck. Benedict grunted as if satisfied before jumping out of the back door and locking it. Moments later the engine started and the truck rolled out.

Hayden wondered if some kind of listening device might be planted somewhere around them. She didn’t want to risk the mistreatment of her fellow passengers so stayed mute. The journey gave her time to think anyway.

Snap decisions had brought her here. Was it time to change everything? They couldn’t run around like this forever. Mano annoyed her because he hadn’t made the right call — but who was she to judge that? And could she even trust her own judgment?

The truck jounced, rattling her spine. The smooth roads turned into ragged ruts, slopes and inclines. Hayden held onto the wooden bench seat as tightly as she could, catching the girl beside her when once she fell.

“Thanks.” A whisper.

“You’re welcome.”

The two men glared.

Hayden breathed more easily when the truck stopped and the back door opened. Outside, they lined up. Benedict and Diaz checked the area before signaling for Bruno to get on his way. The afternoon sun was bright, but offered no warmth, and the four of them shivered in silence.

Diaz waited for the noise of the truck to abate before speaking “We have quite a trek so prepare yourselves. You will not speak. You will not smile. You will follow in the exact place in which we put you. Do you understand?”

Hayden knew why she offered no objections to these slight, imperious oafs, but wondered why the others stood in submissive silence. She took their lead though, and fell in at the back, with Diaz bringing up the rear. The path they chose was tough, with the two chateau-men showing no signs of tiredness. The constant ups and downs, the ruts in the path and the rocks that sometimes appeared to try to trip you, took a toll on the four recruits though; even Hayden nursed a pull in her calf muscle and fought a tightening in her legs. Three times she helped the girl over tough spots, seen by Diaz but not commented on.

They did not stop for food, but Benedict passed a bottle of water back from which they all drank. Up here, Hayden found the air becoming thinner and thinner and was glad she’d gotten used to the altitude. Still, the lack of air sometimes made her gasp.

Topping another rise they saw a deep valley below and, across the delve between high lands, the chateau built into the side of the far mountain.

“Our destination,” Benedict said. “Hurry, or we will be late.”

Hastening the pace, the man set off. Diaz backed him up from behind. Hayden helped out where she could, again catching the girl an instant before she fell. The two men panted and walked with loose shoulders, almost exhausted. The slope leveled out, became flat land, and then started to climb again.

The chateau hung over them like the world’s biggest arachnid.

Hayden shuddered inside as she thought of the description. Shadows lengthening across the land helped fuel the illusion. The sunlight was lowering by the minute.

Up they went, straining every muscle. The slight girl paused for a rest at the halfway point but received such a glowering look from Diaz that she whimpered and forced herself to go on. Hayden followed close, physically helping her over two piles of boulders and a thick, bristly patch of brush. The thistles were so strong they forced themselves up Hayden’s trouser leg and raked her flesh, but she said nothing.

At last, Benedict stopped. The bottom edge of the house overhung them by several feet, jutting out over nothing at all. Beneath it, Hayden now saw a door had been fashioned into the rock, a black keypad with glowing blue numerals the only adornment. When Benedict entered a number — she saw three, five, six, but missed the other two — the door clicked ajar. He moved inside and, at Diaz’s urging, so did the recruits.

A rocky passageway led upward, hewed out of stone, rough and standing in pitch black. Benedict used a flashlight to light the way. Still Hayden’s calf muscles tugged at her and she felt for what the others must be experiencing. At the far end stood another door, giving the impression that the tunnel was a kind of defense system, that could be defended with ease. Maybe there were some infra-red cameras around too. Hayden saw none but since this was part of her mission, kept her eyes open every inch of the way, remembering, questing, cataloguing. The information would be invaluable for the team’s assault.

Beyond the second door they were led along a wood-paneled corridor, now angling downhill, through a couple of nicely furnished rooms and down a wide spiral staircase.

“Keep going,” Diaz muttered irritably as the slight girl pulled up again.

“Please,” she said.

“One minute can’t hurt,” Hayden appealed.

“It can if you’re flying off the cliffs,” Diaz said. “Now keep moving and shut up.”

When Hayden turned her face to him he was smiling sickly-sweet, like icing covering a cockroach. She guessed Big Brother might be watching.

“We’re all friends here,” Benedict said from the front. “Just one big, happy community, fed and strengthened by a family attachment.”

Yeah, Hayden thought. What else you fed by?

A few more corridors; the sound of a large kitchen at work; brief glimpses of apparently normal people, normally dressed, involved in their chores; and she began to feel a draft. Nothing like a chill or a tiny, errant flow of air, but a deep chill that flowed inexorably at her face.

She shivered.

Diaz grunted. “Get used to it. The caves will be your home until full initiation.”

She dreaded even to imagine what that might mean.