The Aztec Prophecy

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

As the dust settled over the temple complex, Lea wound a bandage around the wound in Hawke’s side. As she worked, he watched Gonzalez’s men round up the last surviving members of Wade’s fanatical cult from the jungle around the complex, including a handful of the serpientes. They cuffed them ready for the journey back to civilization.

“Any sign of Mendoza?” he asked.

Sergeant Gonzalez shook his head. “He’s not among the dead we’ve searched either, but my men are still looking.”

Hawke nodded. “He’s long gone,” he said, and the sergeant tossed him a bottle.

“Take this,” said Gonzalez, lighting a cigarette. “You earned it.”

It was a bottle of tequila, and Hawke agreed they’d earned it. He tensed under the bandage and the pain of the obsidian blade wound coursed through his body.

Everywhere he looked he saw death and destruction. Black smoke from the fires started by the mortars bloomed up into a twilight sky now lit by the flames from the burning complex. Corpses of the dead lay strewn across the battle field, face-down on the ground and twisted inside the mangled wreckage of Wade’s blown-up chopper.

When it came to death, the jungle worked fast: the stench of the dead was already in the air. Hawke shook his head in disbelief. He guessed Mictlantecuhtli had gotten his sacrifices after all, but Silvio Mendoza wasn’t one of them. The cartel boss had escaped into the jungle with the mysterious golden idol and that couldn’t be allowed to pass. Worse than that, he knew he had to pass on to the others the revelation about Matheson being controlled by this mysterious Oracle. Finishing Wade’s lunatic Aztec prophecy had been a non-stop lightning ride, and he hadn’t had a single chance to discuss Matheson’s dying words with his friends.

Amidst the smoking ruins, Lea was now talking with some of the Mexican Special Forces. She looked tired, but still strong. He hadn’t spoken to her about it, but sometimes he wondered if they should get hitched… then visions of Matheson sprawled out dead in his study rose in his mind and he let the thought fly away. It was too soon after Liz.

Killing Matheson had helped to lay her to rest in his mind, but it was only half the job. Alfredo Lazaro, the Spider, was still out there somewhere, and he too would pay the ultimate price for his actions that day in Vietnam. But for now at least, Matheson’s death had eased some of the anguish he’d felt since that day.

As Ryan and Maria were hugging in a part of the complex they thought was out of sight, Lea took a call and meandered over to Hawke. “That was Rich,” she said. “The bomb is deactivated and Jorge Mendoza and the rest of the cult members are dead.”

“Juana Diaz?”

“In custody.”

“What about Aurora Soto?”

“Dropped off the radar, which is a worry… the crazy bitch.”

Hawke nodded. It was more than a worry. That meant both Silvio Mendoza and Aurora Soto, the insane lovers, were both free and in possession of what could easily be the world’s most important artefact.

They slowly congregated back at the base of the main pyramid. Reaper twisted the lid off the bottle of tequila and took a long gulp, wiping the spirit from his lips. “That’s the medicine I need,” he said with a happy sigh. “Oué vraiment, mes amis!”

“But firewater’s a dangerous medicine, Reap,” Lea said, taking the bottle.

“When do we get to see the treasure again?” Ryan asked.

Hawke looked at him like he was crazy. He had forgotten about the treasure, but now it all came flooding back. Despite the carnage all around them, they were sitting on top of one of the greatest discoveries in archaeological history — the Noche Triste treasure — an incalculable quantity of silver and gold bullion taken from Moctezuma by the Spanish but as they now knew, taken back again and hidden in the deepest jungle. This was one hoard the Caribbean pirates never even had a chance to seize.

“Something tells me we’re not going to see the treasure again,” Lea said.

Hawke let a brief smile dance on his lips as he watched Ryan take a slug of the tequila, wince in disgust and hand him the bottle. A humid jungle breeze blew across the complex and above their heads the first stars began to shine in the tropical sky.

Reaper laughed, and recalled the time he had first met them all, bobbing about like drowned rats in the Ionian Sea. Across the plaza Lexi Zhang was laughing with Sergeant Gonzalez — a small private joke to lighten the load. Hawke was pleased to see her fitting in so well. She had fought well tonight, and now there could be no question of her loyalty or commitment.

But still, he wondered how long she would stick around. He’d known her longer than the others and he knew there was always a part of Zhang Xiaoli that no one would ever really understand, and that part of her was what made her such a nomad. She liked drifting and he thought it unlikely that she would be able to dedicate too much of her life to working with others. Only time would tell, but now she had told him about the Zodiac Syndicate he was worried she could take off without any warning. It was how she looked after herself… flying away like a dragonfly, but he couldn’t help her if she vanished into the night to flee her pursuers.

“I’ll send you where the sun doesn’t set, dickhead!” Lea repeated, laughing loudly. “What does that even mean, Joe?”

Hawke rolled his eyes. “I really have no idea. I was just faced with a crazed villain with a god complex and had to say something.”

She shook her head. She loved him more than ever.

“So what the hell was that idol Mendoza got, Ryan?”

“It was Tanit, I’m sure. She was a Phoenician goddess worshipped in Carthage over three thousand years ago.”

“Right, so how did a statue of her wind up in a secret annex under an Aztec temple that was sealed long before any Europeans arrived?”

Ryan shook his head. “It must have something to do with what I was saying earlier about the etymological connection between Atlantis and Aztlán. I mean… it doesn’t take a genius to work out that Atlantis is at the heart of most antediluvian conspiracy theories. For archaeologists and treasure hunters alike it’s pretty much the greatest prize of them all — a mythical place to most people, but not to everyone.”

“And now Mendoza has some kind of clue leading to it?”

“Could be.”

Hawke frowned. If Ryan was right and the idol really did have some connection to Atlantis, then they had screwed up Big Time by allowing Silvio Mendoza to escape with it. “Looks like we have another job to do,” he said.

“So we’re not even going to get a break?” Lexi said.

Lea sighed. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“Fuck Mendoza,” Lexi said, swigging the tequila. “We’ll just have to send the bastard the same way as Zaugg, Sheng, Vetrov and Sala, that’s all.”

A cheer went up around the team, led by Reaper, but Hawke was less certain. He didn’t know why, but something felt different this time. He thought it might have something to do with the word Atlantis, but he stopped himself from voicing his fears in front of the others. He knew they saw him as a leading figure in the unit now, and that meant keeping his worries to himself.

He drank more of the tequila and as he listened to the others speaking softly in the twilight about Atlantis, he realized Wade was already forgotten. The man who would have detonated a cobalt bomb over San Francisco and killed eight million was now nothing more than a mutilated corpse in a long-forgotten Aztec temple, staring into oblivion with cold, still eyes and a crazy, painted face.

Lexi watched the last of the sun as it dipped gently below the western canopy line. The sound of the cicadas grew louder as the last of the light slipped away. “If it wasn’t for all the corpses this place would be really beautiful.”

A ripple of laughter went around the small group, but then Hawke brought things back to business with a frown. “I might be wrong, but I’m sure I’ve seen that damned idol before somewhere.”

Lea glanced at him. “Where?”

He shook his head. “I just can’t remember.”

Reaper broke the silence. “Here they come, mes amis.” He pointed at the sky where half a dozen helicopters were racing toward them.

“Looks like Gonzalez radioed into base about the Treasure of the Sad Night,” Ryan said. “Thought that might happen.”

“Poor Cairo!” Lea said. “She’s not going to be happy about missing out on this treasure. When they write her biography it’s going to be called Sex and Gold, you know that?”

Another laugh, but it was weary. They were cut, bruised and tired and knew the fight of their lives was racing toward them like a freight train.

Atlantis.

“All right,” Hawke said wearily. “Anyone want a lift out of here?” He stood up and stretched his arms. “I’m knackered and it just so happens there’s one of Wade’s Hueys left standing over there in the clearing. I’d like to do a runner before the cavalry gets here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lea said, and slid her arm through his.

As he raised the collective and powered the Huey into the humid, jungle air, Hawke watched the raging fires of battle consume the ancient complex. He squinted as he looked at the western horizon and felt a headache on its way. He turned to see the wind blowing in Lea’s hair beside him as she gazed out over the jungle in the low light.

She sensed his glance and turned to him, giving an innocent smile. “You all right, bruiser?”

Hawke wondered if Lea and the rest of his friends were strong enough to face the oncoming storm. “I’m fine,” he said, and turned the helicopter into the night.