Angel continued his hunt late into the night. He eventually passed out in his office chair, thanks to a combination of painkillers and exhaustion. Remarkably, he was back at it with the rising sun, awakened by the memory of his fallen friend and his desire for retribution.
Less than an hour into his morning search, he came across a photograph from a small village in the Yucatán. It wasn’t a fuzzy mobile-phone picture, like so many he had seen in the previous hours, but a series of clear shots of a redhead, taken with a telephoto lens. He recognized her face instantly, like a mother identifying her young. There was no doubt or indecision. He knew it was the woman who had killed his friend. Somehow she had been spotted a time zone away and tracked to a tiny camp ground near the ruins of Chichén Itzá.
Within seconds, he was on the phone.
Within minutes, he was rounding up troops.
Within hours, he was flying across Mexico to get revenge.
He didn’t care who or what got in his way. The bitch needed to die.
Led by Payne, who kept a close eye on Tiffany, the group left the jungle path and marched through two zones (the Central Group and the Ossario Group) in the site as if they were on a field trip with guns. Payne and Jones did their best to conceal their weapons, but there was only so much they could do with so many witnesses around. Fortunately, most people were paying attention to the Mayan ruins, not the six foreigners who were about to be attacked.
They had just re-entered the Great North Platform when Tiffany spotted a man near the entrance who resembled Angel Ramirez. At first, she assumed her mind was playing tricks on her. She was in Chichén Itzá, nearly a thousand miles away from Mexico City. There was no way in hell he could have found her that quickly. Besides, didn’t Angel die at Zócalo? She was pretty damn sure that Church had killed him at the beginning of the shootout. Or did he? Before she had a chance to ask Church, he had been shot himself. In the aftermath, she had assumed that Angel had been killed, either from a bullet to the head or the bomb in the SUV. Now she wasn’t so sure. From a distance, the guy looked like Angel. Same face. Same build. Same mannerisms. And his arm was in an elaborate sling. Not the kind someone would wear for a simple sprain, but the kind someone would wear if he had been shot and lived.
‘Oh shit,’ she mumbled to herself. ‘It can’t be.’
Payne heard her comment. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Can we stop and talk?’
‘Of course we can. Would you like some tea?’
‘I’m serious,’ she pleaded.
‘I’m not. Keep moving.’
She stopped anyway. ‘Listen, I know you’re not going to believe a word I say—’
He pushed her forward. ‘Exactly. So why even try?’
‘Because we’re walking into a trap.’
‘Speaking of traps,’ he said, ‘shut your trap and keep walking.’
‘Listen,’ she said urgently as she hid behind him. ‘If I wanted to make a scene, I could do it with ease. All I have to do is start running. Trust me, I’ll scream so loud they’ll hear me in Florida. I know it and you know it. The only reason I’m playing along is because you’re doing everything that we anticipated. Do you really think I would have used Hamilton’s credit card at the petrol station if we didn’t want you here? I stared into the camera on purpose, you know.’
Payne had figured as much. ‘Go on.’
‘See that man in the sling?’
He looked towards the entrance. ‘Yep.’
‘We tried to kill him yesterday. Apparently, it didn’t work. My guess is he won’t be happy about the attempt.’
‘Who is he?’
‘His name is Angel Ramirez. He’s a dangerous man with a lot of dangerous friends.’
‘How dangerous?’
‘Let’s just say there’s a reason we left you a boxful of weapons in the Hummer. We didn’t want you to be unprepared in case he slipped past us.’
‘Which he did.’
She shrugged. ‘We’re not perfect.’
‘What do you expect me to do about it?’
‘That depends. Did you bring the AKs?’
‘Nope.’
‘The C-4?’
‘No.’
‘Shit.’
Jones moved in from the rear. ‘What’s wrong?’
Payne answered. ‘According to Tiffany, we’re about to be attacked.’
‘By whom?’
‘The guy in the sling.’
Jones looked ahead. ‘No problem. I’ll just shoot him in the other arm.’
‘He might have friends.’
‘How many?’
Tiffany answered. ‘More than us.’
Jones grimaced. ‘I don’t know. I’m on Facebook. I have a lot of friends.’
She shook her head. ‘Unless they have guns, I don’t think they can help.’
‘They might. Do I have time to tweet?’
Payne ignored him. ‘Does Angel know who we are?’
‘Yes,’ she lied.
‘All of us?’
‘Yes.’
‘So hiding won’t help?’
Worried about her safety, she continued to lie. ‘For the short term, maybe. But not for the long term. These are the type of guys who will follow you home. America, Italy, Switzerland — it really doesn’t matter. They won’t stop until we’re dead.’
Payne stared at her, trying to gauge the truth. Unfortunately, she was a trained CIA agent — someone who lied for a living. There was no way he could detect a lie with any certainty. ‘What do you recommend?’
‘That depends. Are you as good as they say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we can take them.’
Jones interrupted. ‘What’s this “we” shit? We’re not giving you a gun.’
‘Of course you will, if you want to live. You’re severely outnumbered.’
Jones shook his head. ‘Right now I count one guy in a sling. He may or may not be a bad guy, who may or may not be looking for us. How are we outnumbered?’
‘I’m telling you,’ she assured them, ‘guys like this don’t come alone.’
Payne continued to stare at her, searching her eyes for any signs of truth. He simply couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. ‘Petr, come here.’
Ulster hustled over. ‘You rang?’
‘How well do you know this place?’
‘Quite well. Why do you ask?’
He continued to stare at Tiffany. ‘Where’s a good place to hide?’
‘From what?’
‘Possible gunmen.’
Ulster gasped. ‘The jungle, I would think.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want you leaving this site.’
‘Well, in that case, I would say—’
Payne cut him off. ‘Whisper your answer to DJ. I don’t want the others to hear.’
‘But—’
‘Just do it.’
Ulster did as he was told. He whispered the answer to Jones.
‘DJ, you got it?’
Jones nodded. ‘I got it.’
‘Good.’ Payne pulled out Tiffany’s gun. He handed it to Ulster, who was tempted to object, but the look in Payne’s eye kept him in line. ‘I want you to take Maria to that hiding place. Stay there until one of us comes and gets you. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘If anyone else comes, shoot them in the face.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘But, what?’
‘What about Terrence?’
Payne shook his head. ‘Sorry. Don’t trust him. He’s involved in this, but I don’t know how. Until I do, he’s on his own.’