The Death Relic

62

As far as Payne was concerned, he viewed Angel and his men as potential threats, not targets. After all, they hadn’t fired upon Payne or his friends, or endangered them in any way. In fact, the only person who had hurt anyone at Chichén Itzá — at least to his knowledge — was Tiffany.

Of course, that didn’t mean he thought Angel was harmless. Based on the number of gunmen who were gathering near the pyramid, Payne sensed they were out for blood and didn’t care how many people got hurt in their effort to find Tiffany. Still, despite the mounting evidence against them, Payne’s moral compass wouldn’t allow him to open fire on anyone unless he was provoked. The moment that occurred, he would go after them with guns blazing. But until that happened, all he was willing to do was prepare for the worst.

In many ways, it reminded him of his mindset in the military. His unit usually knew where their biggest threats were located — Afghanistan, Iraq, North Korea, etc. — but they weren’t allowed to engage the enemy until a line was crossed. In the meantime, they used their time wisely. They moved supplies. They cleared terrain. They probed for weaknesses. They did everything they could possibly do until they got permission from the Pentagon to attack.

Then they kicked some serious ass.

To prepare for the looming battle, Payne made his way through a cluster of trees that defined the southern edge of the Great North Platform. He moved with speed and stealth, two things that didn’t seem possible for a man his size, and he did so with little effort. Though he had worked hard to increase his strength and stamina over the years, he was a natural-born athlete who had been blessed with the sort of physical tools that would make an Olympian jealous.

Payne eased to a quiet stop a few feet from the trail that led to the Ossario Group to the south. In order to get into position for Jones’s plan, he had to cross the path at some point, and he’d hoped to do so there, where the trail was narrow and shaded by trees. He glanced left, then right. Everything looked clear on the path itself. He was ready to dart across the trail and continue his journey forward when he spotted one of Angel’s men hiding on the other side. Wearing a camouflage jacket and pants, Jorge blended in with the foliage ahead. The main thing that had given him away was the movement of his hand as he attempted to swat bugs away from his face. If not for that, Payne would have run right past him and been shot.

Now he had a chance to take him out.

The decision to become aggressive was an easy one for Payne when he saw the weapon Jorge was holding. It wasn’t a handgun. It was an FN SCAR-L, a heavy assault rifle used by a few special operation regiments in the US Armed Forces. Similar to the AK-47, it’s a gas-operated, rotating-bolt rifle that is capable of killing a lot of people in a short space of time. One look was all it took. Payne knew he had to do something about the weapon. There was no way in good conscience that he could let someone walk the grounds with that much firepower. Not with kids and families scurrying for safety.

It was an accident waiting to happen.

Fortunately for Payne, Jorge didn’t hear his approach or see him in the weeds. He was too busy swatting at the bugs that had descended upon him to notice anything else. This gave Payne plenty of time to figure out the best way to acquire Jorge’s weapon. Eventually, he settled for the simplest method possible. He was going to run over and steal it. After all, the rifle was just dangling at his side, hanging from a strap around Jorge’s neck. His hands weren’t even on the trigger. That meant the odds of getting shot were pretty damn slim.

They were odds Payne was willing to take.

Payne burst from his hiding place and made it across the path in three powerful strides. By the time Jorge saw the blur headed his way, it was too late to do anything except raise his arms to protect his face. Payne buried his shoulder in Jorge’s sternum with so much force that he cracked two ribs in the initial blow. Jorge cracked two more when they crashed to the turf. Payne scrambled to his knees and was prepared to knock Jorge out with a swift elbow to the chin, but that had already been taken care of when the back of his head bounced off the hard ground.

Wasting no time, Payne took the assault rifle, a few clips of ammo and Jorge’s radio, then scurried into the woods ahead.

There was somewhere he needed to be.

Angel didn’t have much experience in the ways of war. He was a criminal, not a soldier. Most of the fighting he’d been involved in had occurred on the streets of Mexico City, not in the jungle. The difference between the two was significant. There were no cars. Or houses. Or any of the things he was used to. Instead there were ruins. And trees. And wide open spaces. Yesterday’s battle at Zócalo was his first shootout in two years, and he had barely made it out alive.

Here, against these opponents, he didn’t stand a chance.

Neither did his men.

Sure, most of them were skilled with guns, but not like this.

It was one thing to hit a bull’s-eye at a shooting range. It was quite another to hit a moving target that was returning fire with the accuracy of Payne and Jones.

They knew the tactics. They knew the angles.

They knew all the things that Angel’s men didn’t.

And they were more than willing to take advantage.

Angel made three major mistakes in his initial strategy. To begin with, he minimized the value of his superior numbers by bringing his men together in one place. They would have been far more effective had they been scattered around the site, slowly closing in on Tiffany’s last-known position like a hangman tightening a noose. Secondly, he chose a staging area for his troops next to the most visible building at the site. El Castillo stood nearly 100 feet tall and was almost twice as wide. It could be seen from every corner of the ancient city. No matter where Payne and Jones went, they always knew where Angel’s men were. In the middle of an open plaza, they were more visible than a lighthouse on a clear night.

Finally, and worst of all, Angel ordered his men to find and kill Tiffany at all cost. Had that order been given at the OK Corral, Payne and Jones would have sat back and watched the violence unfold without intervention. After all, it wasn’t their fight. But everything changed when Angel’s men gunned down four innocent tourists who’d been hiding behind one of the smaller ruins. The instant they tried to scurry past the pyramid on their way to the main exit, Angel’s men opened fire. No rhyme or reason. No mistaken identities.

They simply fired upon them in cold blood.

Jones saw the incident from across the plaza. He was sickened by the sight. In a heartbeat, he went from an interested spectator to an active participant.

His initial plan had been to protect Petr and Maria by luring Angel’s troops away from the market. His new plan was to protect everyone at the site. In his opinion, the best way to do that was to eliminate every criminal with a gun as quickly as possible.

He pulled out his phone and called Payne, who was still scrambling to get into position. The phone rang several times before he finally answered.

‘Are you OK?’ Payne asked.

Jones explained what had happened. He also stressed it was time to get involved.

Payne nodded in agreement. ‘I just picked up a weapon that will help our cause. I got a SCAR-L from one of his men. I also got another radio.’

‘How much ammo?’

‘Enough to make them extinct.’

‘Good. Because that’s what we need to do.’

‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Same plan as before. The only difference, shoot to kill.’

Maria felt the phone vibrate in her hand. She glanced at the screen. It was a call from Jones. Her chest tightened as her heart started to race. She was being summoned to war.

‘Hello,’ she whispered.

‘You’re on.’

‘What do you need me to do?’

‘I need you to leave Petr and come here.’

‘You need me to leave him? Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘Trust me, he’s safer there than he will be here.’

‘But—’

‘Maria,’ he said, ‘give him the damn phone.’

She did as she was told.

Ulster came on the line, curious. ‘Hello?’

‘Petr, I need to borrow Maria for a few minutes, but she’s reluctant to leave your side. Please tell her that you’ll be fine without her.’

Ulster gulped, unsure. ‘Will I be fine without her?’

‘Of course you’ll be fine. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing this.’

‘In that case, she’s all yours. I’ll send her on her way.’

‘Feel free to keep the gun. She won’t be needing it.’

‘All right, David. I’ll do just that. I’ll send Maria, but keep the gun.’

‘Perfect. Let me talk to her again.’

Ulster assured Maria it was OK to leave as he handed the phone back to her. She complained briefly, but eventually agreed.

‘OK,’ she said to Jones, ‘where do you need me to go?’

‘Exit south through the jungle and meet me near the trees on the western side of the market. Do you know where that is?’

She glanced at her map. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. I need you here in two minutes.’