The Death Relic

27

Payne glared at DeJute. ‘What the hell happened?’

DeJute frantically hit buttons on his keyboard while staring at the black screen. ‘I have no idea! I’ve never seen this before!’

Boiling with frustration, Payne glanced back at the monitor. Despite the absence of a picture, the time counter continued to tick forward at the bottom of the screen. One second after another, ticking away in darkness. ‘I’ll be damned. They erased the tape.’

‘What? Not a chance. I bet the monitor went bad. I’ll just move the feed to—’

Payne cut him off. ‘It’s not the screen. Take a look at the counter. It’s still working fine. I’m telling you, someone erased this portion of the tape, or somehow blocked the camera.’

‘No way,’ he argued, sounding less confident than he’d been a moment earlier. ‘I bet if I move the feed to another screen—’

Payne shook his head. ‘Don’t waste your time. It won’t make any difference.’

‘But—’

‘Listen,’ he said in a calming voice, ‘if you need proof, fast-forward the video for a few minutes. I bet the picture returns pretty quickly.’

DeJute grabbed the joystick and cranked it to the right. Instantly, the counter whizzed forward at twenty times its normal speed. The picture remained solid black for several seconds, temporarily stoking DeJute’s doubt, but before he had a chance to voice it, the video returned to the centre monitor, just as Payne had promised.

DeJute released the joystick. ‘Son of a bitch. Someone erased the tape.’

‘I know.’

‘But why? Why would someone do that?’

Payne shrugged, offering nothing.

Still trying to process things in his head, DeJute rewound the video to the point where it went black. He watched the feed again, this time at a slower speed, hoping he would notice something useful on the screen. Payne watched, too, as the feed went from an exterior shot of the hotel to solid black. Then they watched it again. And again. The same thing, over and over, looking for a scrap of evidence to help them piece together what had happened.

Payne cleared his throat. ‘Nothing’s there.’

‘But—’

‘Trust me, if they took the time to erase the feed, they took the time to get it all.’

‘All of what?’

‘Whatever happened outside.’

DeJute looked over his shoulder. ‘Which was what?’

Payne shook his head, unwilling to voice an opinion. ‘Let me ask you a better question. How did they erase the tape?’

He groaned. ‘Beats the hell out of me. I don’t even know how to do that.’

‘You don’t?’

‘Not like that, I don’t.’ He glanced back at the screen. ‘Then again, I’m not a hi-tech surgeon. I’m more of a sledgehammer kind of guy.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Why erase five minutes when you could delete the entire file? Because that’s what I would have done. I would have found the file on the server and trashed the bitch.’

‘Good point.’

DeJute stared at his keyboard, unsure what to do next. ‘So …’

‘I’m thinking,’ Payne said.

‘If you want, I can switch to the parking lot feed. Maybe we can see something from there.’

Although it was a good suggestion — one that might provide important clues about Hamilton’s disappearance — Payne knew he couldn’t risk it, not with Jones rummaging through the Hummer in the parking lot. Even if they rewound the video to the previous night, the live feed would appear on the main screen for a few seconds while DeJute entered the data, and the last thing Payne needed was for Jones, or Maria, to be spotted outside.

Payne spoke decisively. ‘Actually, let’s go back to the lobby camera for a while. I want to see if Hamilton heads back into the hotel through the same door. Maybe we can pick up his scent from there.’

The bungee cords were attached to tiny hooks in the side panels of the Hummer’s trunk. Jones reached between the front seats and unclipped the closest cord, making sure it didn’t snap back and take out his eye, like the Red Ryder BB Gun from A Christmas Story.

For some reason, that movie always cracked him up.

He carefully moved the first cord out of the way and went to work on the second. Using extra caution, he unclipped the hook and tossed the cord on the passenger side’s floor.

‘What’s happening?’ Maria asked.

‘Hold your horses. I’m almost done.’

‘Easy for you to say. I’m the one exposed out here.’

Jones leaned forward and grabbed the third cord. ‘You’re exposed? You’re sitting on a bench outside a five-star resort. Meanwhile, I’m rifling through someone’s car. Are you sure you want to continue with that argument?’

She conceded the point. ‘Sorry. I’m not used to this.’

‘And I am? Just because I’m black doesn’t mean I do this all the time.’

Despite his claim of racism, she knew he was joking. ‘Are you sure? Because you’re pretty darn good at it.’

‘True, but that has nothing to do with my skin colour. I break into cars because I’m nosy, not because I’m black.’

‘That’s good to know. I’ll be sure to explain that to the policía when they arrive.’

Jones smiled as he unclipped the cord and loosened the tarp in the back of the H2. He hadn’t talked to Maria in months, yet their repartee had picked up right where they’d left off. For Jones, it was the rarest of things. Over the years, he had met very few women who ‘got’ his sense of humour. Most were offended by his comments, or didn’t understand his obscure references; Maria was different. Not only did she find him funny, she had enough feistiness to keep him in line when he strayed a little too far.

In that regard, she was like Payne — only with breasts.

‘Still clear?’ he asked as he pulled up the corner of the tarp.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure? Because I might need to turn on a light.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s dark under the tarp.’

She scanned the parking lot. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

Jones knew the dome light wouldn’t be bright enough to let him see clearly, so he opted to pull back the reflective sunshade that covered the windshield. Starting on the passenger side, he folded it twice along its creases until a third of the glass was exposed. Sunlight streamed through the gap, filling the cargo space with more than enough light to suit his needs.

‘That’s more like it,’ he mumbled to himself.

Wasting no time, Jones turned in his seat and reached into the boot. But instead of loosening additional cords, he grabbed the edge of the tarp and peered underneath.

Directly in front of him was a narrow wooden crate that ran parallel to the dashboard. Made of thick plywood, it had three latches holding its lid in place. It reminded him of his old military trunk. Durable but light, it was the type of crate that could hold just about anything: books, digging equipment, personal effects, even rations.

Further back was a second crate, which was different to the first. More of a display case than a trunk, it stretched across the remainder of the boot and was filled with dozens of objects, all of which had been sealed in plastic. Some were big and some were small. But he couldn’t really tell what they were from where he was sitting.

‘What did you find?’ Maria asked.

‘Two boxes filled with stuff. I’m not sure what it is, though, because I haven’t had time to look.’

‘Sorry. I’ll shut up now.’

Jones laughed as he shifted his attention to the trunk. He flicked open the two side latches before focusing on the centre lock. Although it required a key, this type of lock was one of the simplest to pick. Jones could have done it with a paperclip or a ballpoint pen. With his tools, he could’ve done it blindfolded. Less than five seconds later, it clicked open.

Grinning cockily, Jones put his tools away and opened the lid.

His eyes quickly doubled in size.

‘Holy shit,’ he blurted into the headset.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.’

‘Don’t lie to me, David.’

‘I’m not lying,’ he assured her as he closed the lid and pulled up the tarp. One glance was all it took. He knew what he needed to do next. ‘We have to move the Hummer.’

‘Why? Is there a bomb?’ she demanded.

‘A bomb? Why in the hell would there be a bomb?’

‘Because you want to move the Hummer.’

He scoffed at the notion. ‘No corpse. No bomb. No threat to mankind. I promise you that, but we still have to move the Hummer.’

‘But—’

‘Maria!’ he growled into his headset. ‘Read between the lines. I don’t want to talk about this over the phone. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Good.’ He reached into the glove compartment and grabbed the spare set of keys. They would make stealing the H2 that much easier. ‘This is what I need you to do. I’m going to toss the keys for the SUV on the ground. Once I pull out of this space, I want you to pick up my keys and walk into the hotel lobby, where I want you to wait for Jon. Do not leave the lobby for any reason unless Jon is by your side. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ she repeated.

‘I’ll keep an eye on you until you’re inside the hotel. I’ll text Jon and let him know what’s going on. After that, he’s in charge of you. Do whatever he says, whenever he says it. No arguments. No backtalk. No bullshit. OK?’

She took a deep breath. ‘OK.’

He sensed her tension. ‘Maria, don’t worry about this. Everything is going to be all right.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘Yes,’ he lied. ‘I promise everything will be fine.’