The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

It was dusk when they popped out of the maze two hours later.

They exited the river system and were at the edge of the coastal plain. Hawkins called a halt among a cluster of car-size boulders that would shield the light from their campfire and offer a good defensive position if necessary. He inspected the vehicle’s side and rear racks. Some of the containers had shifted position from the constant jostling.

“We’ll stay here for the night and move out at dawn,” Hawkins said. “What’s the quartermaster serving for dinner?”

“We are in for a treat, monsieur,” Calvin said.

He opened a box labeled Meal, Ready-To Eat, the operational food ration for the U.S. military, and passed out the packages inside. The MREs were warmed up in water-activated flameless heaters. Soon the fragrance of beef stew and spaghetti floated on the night air. There was little conversation as the famished travelers devoured their dinner.

Rashid sat apart from the others. As he ate his dinner he thought about how he would carry out his assignment. He had deliberately led the group into the river bed, thinking that it would be a good place to kill his companions and dispose of their bodies. He had their trust initially, but their mocking tone showed that they were more wary of him now.

He burned with a simmering anger that could only be extinguished by killing the two men. The hell with Murphy’s order to make Abby’s death a quick one. He would take his time with the woman, before putting an end to her life, too. His anger was stoked as he listened to their murmurings and laughter, adding fuel to the fire burning in his gut and loins.

Hawkins broke away from the others, who split up and disappeared between boulders on opposite sides of the campfire. He came over and said, “We’re organizing the watch, and could use your help, Rashid. Calvin and Abby will take the first two-hour shift while we get some rest. Then it’ll be our turn.”

Rashid could have shouted with joy. They thought he was simply an incompetent guide. Soon they would learn he was a competent assassin.

“Yes, of course,” Rashid said. “I would be glad to help. Perhaps I can make amends for my errors.”

“No hard feelings, Rashid. An op wouldn’t be an op if something didn’t go wrong.”

Hawkins had to move some of the supplies off the cargo racks to get at the sleeping bags. He stacked them neatly in a pile, planning to reload the buggy in daylight. He came back and tossed a sleeping bag to Rashid. Then he stretched another bag on the ground near the fire, zipped himself into it and was soon fast asleep.

When Abby’s shift was over, she tapped Hawkins on the shoulder to wake him up. He crawled out into the cold night air. She slid into the sleeping bag.

“Thanks for warming it up for me, Matt.” She zipped it shut and closed her eyes.

Calvin roused Rashid and took his place in the bag. “See you in two hours,” he said.

Hawkins walked around a boulder and told Rashid to keep his eyes open and his ears cocked. He gave him a light stick and told him to wave it if he needed help. Then he walked back to where Abby had been standing watch. He found a rock roughly the size and shape of a sofa to lean against. It was better than standing, but not so comfortable that he would fall asleep on it.

His thick mane of hair was no match for the cold. He pulled a woolen cap down on his head. The stars were popping out of the heavens like rhinestones on velvet. He used to call the sight Broadway Sky back in his navy days. He always had a hard time reconciling the celestial beauty above his head with the death and destruction on earth.

He began to work out the plans for the next day. They would get underway at first light and should make it to the shores of the lake by mid-day. They would send the submersible down to sniff around, and follow up with a dive the next morning.

The following day they would come home, treasure or not.

A half hour passed and he saw a luminescent blue blur. Rashid had cracked the light stick and was waving it.

Hawkins blinked his flashlight and started toward the guide’s position, walking in a wide circle around the sleeping bags so as not to disturb their occupants.

As he neared the guide, Hawkins whispered, “What’s up, Rashid?”

“I thought I heard something moving.”

Hawkins guessed that the guide had been spooked by a rabbit, but he drew his pistol, stepped past him and squinted into the darkness, his ears attuned to the slightest sound. He heard nothing. Not even the buzz of insects.

“Where?” he said.

“Off to the left,” the guide’s voice rasped in his ear. “There it is. Again. Closer.”

Hawkins leaned slightly forward and moved his finger onto the trigger.

“I don’t—”

Something hard slammed into the right side of his head and a nova blossomed before his eyes. The blow might have killed him if it had not been softened by the wool cap and if he had not shifted position a second before he was struck. As he sank to his knees he heard a loud explosion and his arm jerked backwards.

He blacked out, but the shards of pain stabbing his head shocked him back to consciousness. He heard Calvin, then Abby’s voice sounding as if their mouths were full of cotton. He opened his eyes and saw a pale oval that transformed into Abby’s face as his vision cleared. She was cradling his head in her lap.

“Matt. Are you all right? Talk to me, for godsakes!”

Hawkins reached up and removed the cap. His fingers slightly touched the tender skin and his skull felt as if it was cracked. He struggled to sit up.

“Feels like someone dropped a house on my head, but I’m okay. Rashid sucker-punched me with a rock. Where is the sneaky bastard?”

“Gone. Cal’s after him.”

They whirled at the sound of the DPV’s engine turning over and barking into life, followed by gunshots. Then came the whine of spinning tires and the engine noise began to recede.

A flashlight bobbed in the darkness and footsteps pounded toward them.

“Sonofabitch stole the buggy!” Calvin shouted with breathless anger. “Fired in the air, but he kept on going. You okay, Hawk?”

“Nothing a new skull wouldn’t cure.”

Calvin and Abby helped him to his feet where he stood on shaky legs. He was angry for not following his instincts where Rashid was concerned. The guide had taken off with the submersible and dive gear, most of their survival equipment and a cache of weapons.

“How did you know I was in trouble?” he said.

Abby handed him his pistol. “We heard a shot and came running. I found this on the ground.”

She handed over his pistol. The barrel was still warm.

“I must have fired it by accident. Damn. I don’t look forward to telling the navy that their million dollar submersible got ripped off.”

“Cheer up, Hawk, They’ll never believe you.”

“Did he get the satellite phone?”

“Yep. On the buggy.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go. After Rashid. The DPV’s tire tracks will lead us right to him.”

“He’s got a huge head start on us, and spare cans of fuel to keep him going,” Abby said. “We’ll never catch up with him.”

“Never say never,” Hawkins said. He led them to the supplies he’d stacked earlier and showed them the fuel containers.

Calvin laughed. “Rashid’s going to be pissed when he runs out of gas.”

“He’s still got enough fuel to put some miles between us. He’ll expect us to wait until light to get moving, but we’ll leave now.”

Abby said, “You need some first aid before we go anywhere, Matt.”

The first aid consisted of a couple of aspirin, a compress to hold the swelling down and a bandage and tape. While Abby nursed Hawkins, Calvin packed water, food and weapons. They walked to the edge of the campsite where the dune buggy had been parked, and began to follow the faint tread marks in the rocky soil.