The Death Relic

59

Payne found himself in a predicament. He didn’t trust Tiffany, but he believed her story about the man in the sling. Angel Ramirez was there to kill her. She had just enough fear in her eyes to be convincing. Unfortunately, Payne didn’t know what to do about it.

Had he trusted her story fully — that Angel was a dangerous man with dangerous friends who would systematically hunt them down until they were dead — he would have lured Angel to a private section of the site and put a bullet in his brain. No questions. No guilt. No problem. The crisis would have been over before it had gotten out of hand. But the reality was he didn’t trust her. Not in the way he trusted Jones or Raskin. If one of them had warned him about Angel’s intentions, Payne would have sprung into action immediately, because he trusted them implicitly.

But he couldn’t kill a man on Tiffany’s word.

He simply couldn’t. He was more cautious than that.

What if Angel was there for her, but he had legitimate reasons to be after her? Perhaps he worked for the Mexican government and had been assigned to track her down for crimes she’d committed in Mexico. Or maybe Angel worked for the CIA and had been tasked with stopping an illegal operation she had been running? In that case, Payne’s involvement would not only be reckless, it would potentially make him a traitor in the eyes of America. There was no way he could risk his reputation over a woman he didn’t trust.

With that in mind, he did the next-best thing.

He sent Jones to collect some intelligence.

Before departing, Jones whispered the name of Ulster’s hiding place to Payne, so both of them would know it, then he dashed into the jungle, between the Ossario Group and the main entrance to the site. From there, he hoped to learn as much about Angel as possible. Was he Mexican police — a Federale — a criminal, or something else? Was he acting alone, or did he have a team of gunmen at his disposal? And if he had a team, what type of weapons did they possess? Answers to those questions and several more would help Payne decide what they should do next.

Meanwhile, Payne realized he couldn’t afford to stay in the open. Not only because he was a large target, but because he didn’t want to be seen with Tiffany. If she was a wanted woman, he didn’t want to be linked to her in any way. He quickly surveyed their options, then ordered her and Hamilton into the closest grove of trees, where the three of them could analyze the site while waiting for word from Jones.

Jones ran, jumped, ducked and scurried through the jungle until he was hiding in the underbrush less than 20 feet from Angel, who’d positioned himself near the main entrance to the site. He was standing there with a scowl on his face, staring at people in the passing crowd. His left arm was in an elaborate sling. It had multiple straps around his back and waist, which took the weight off his shoulder while keeping his arm anchored against his stomach — as if any movement at all would cause his wounds to reopen. There was also thick wad of surgical gauze protruding from the collar of his shirt, some of which appeared to be stained with blood.

Standing by Angel’s side were two thugs who looked like they had just escaped from a Mexican prison. They were covered head to toe in tattoos, including teardrop tattoos under their eyes. In some Hispanic cultures, it means the bearer has killed someone while they were incarcerated. From appearances alone, Jones didn’t doubt it for a second. Everything about them screamed danger. If they were Federales, they were the best damn undercover officers he had ever seen, because their ink probably took two years to complete, if not longer. They also had a look in their eye that said, If you touch me, I’ll turn your dick inside out.

All in all, they were not happy men.

Jones stayed in the weeds for several seconds, trying to learn as much as possible about them. He didn’t flinch, despite feeling ants and spiders crawling across his legs and into his clothes. He simply blocked it out of his mind, as he’d been trained to do in sniper school. Back then, he had been required to remain motionless for hours at a time under the harshest conditions imaginable. A few minutes in the undergrowth wouldn’t kill him.

The three men didn’t talk, but Jones still managed to learn a lot about them in a short amount of time. Under the back of their shirts, they had solid bulges that went halfway up their backs. Probably large-calibre handguns — the kind with serious stopping power — or smaller pistols with silencers already screwed on. Earpieces were visible in their right ears, which suggested a network of gunmen that extended wider than the three who were visible. He assumed the two thugs who wouldn’t leave Angel’s side were bodyguards.

Unfortunately, Jones had no way of knowing who else worked for Angel. The odds were pretty good that they wouldn’t look like Mexican gangbangers. Otherwise, they would be too easy to spot amongst the crowd of tourists. If he had to guess, he would say that Angel’s scouts probably looked and acted like normal folk — with one major exception.

They would be wearing earpieces.

Jones backed away from his hiding place and called Payne, who listened intently as Jones described the three men near the entrance. He also detailed his theory about the earpieces. He felt they could be used to identify sleepers around the site.

Payne thanked him for the info. ‘Anything else?’

‘Simple question: yes or no on Angel?’

Payne groaned. He knew the query would be coming. Unfortunately, he still didn’t feel they had enough to go on to kill a man in cold blood. Just because Angel looked like a bad guy didn’t mean he deserved to die. And even if he did, Payne wasn’t going to ask his best friend to pull the trigger on a whim. They were soldiers, not executioners. Sometimes there was a fine line between the two, but Payne knew at that moment they were on the wrong side of the line.

‘That’s a negative. Repeat. That’s a negative. Do not shoot Angel.’

‘Are you sure? There are no friendlies in the way.’

‘Still a negative. Repeat. Still a negative. Fall back and regroup.’

‘Understood. See you soon.’

Payne ended the call, only to find Tiffany staring at him.

She said, ‘You are such a pussy.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard what I said. You’re a pussy. Jones had the shot and you ordered him down. Why would you do that?’

‘Why? Because I don’t trust you. Not one bit. I’m not going to take a man’s life on your word alone. For all I know, you lured me here to do just that.’

She shook her head. ‘You are such a disappointment! I had heard so many stories about your exploits I had built you up in my head. But now I know you’re just a coward.’

He shrugged it off. ‘I’ve been called worse.’

She continued. ‘Actually, now that I think about it, I’m glad you gave the order to pull back. I’ve learned more about you in those three seconds than I could in a hundred war stories.’

‘Is that so? What did you learn?’

She stood from her hiding spot. ‘If you don’t have the balls to shoot an armed killer, then I know you don’t have the nuts to shoot an unarmed woman.’

He stared at her. ‘Try me.’

She smirked at him. It was the same smirk she had flashed at the security camera in the petrol station. It let him know that she had figured him out. ‘And based on your indecision, I know you were this close to giving the order. That means if I make a play for Angel, you aren’t going to stop me. In fact, I’d be willing to bet you’ll give me support.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t. But it would be nice.’

She tossed Payne an extra clip, then darted through the trees on her way to find Angel. She’d had missed the chance to kill him the day before. She wasn’t about to screw up again.

Meanwhile, Hamilton remained behind. He sat there in silence, studying Payne like a poker player looking for tells. After several seconds, Payne glanced at him and winked.

Hamilton laughed. ‘I’ll be damned! You played her. You gave the order not to shoot in front of her, because you knew how she’d react. You knew she’d go after him.’

Payne fought the urge to smile. He didn’t want to gloat.