The trail was easy to follow because it was white and the jungle was close and dark. She felt the smooth touch of the sea grape leaves and the tickle of ficus and she heard the shallow crunch of her shoes on the sand and the steps of the man up ahead. The trail branched once to the left then once to the right, as on Bradley’s map. They climbed a slight hill and the path went left again and then it ended in a wide flat clearing. In the middle of the clearing was an almost perfectly round body of black water. It shimmered in the heavy air, a ribbon of moonlight across its center.
Just like on the map, she thought. I am here. I will be here in two days and we will escape.
“It is very deep,” he said. “Thirty meters. The water comes up from the ground century after century. The Maya used it for drinking and irrigation and for sacrifice. The sacrificed person would be weighted with stone and jewels and gold and silver so the offering was more valuable to the gods. The gringo who built the Castle used breathing devices to remove some of the treasure. He did not want to sell it or give it to the government, so he buried it near the guard house. My workers discovered it when they dug a new trench for the sanitation system of the Castle.”
“The statues and calendars and plates.”
“And the chains of gold.”
“The lepers watch over it.”
“But I try to add to the treasure, not to take away from it. I like to make it grow. I like to multiply the sacrifice. I have thrown kilos and kilos of the treasure back into this cenote. And not only the original treasure, but gold watches and diamond rings and gold-plated pistols. The WBA welterweight belt belonging to Manny Mendez is down there. And the super-lightweight belt of Julio Serro. There is a gold-top Les Paul guitar once belonging to Carlos Santana that I purchased for a great price. There is a microphone used by Bonnie Raitt that I bought also. There are many Cartier and Rolex and Patek watches that have been paid to me. And one yellow Corvette that belonged to a beautiful American outlaw I admired. All in the water now.”
“Why?”
“For balance.”
Armenta stepped closer to the ring of black water and he flung the silver candlestick high into the air. Erin saw the faint turn of it in the moonlight then heard the splash. She tried to draw the Defender, but her will was not enough. She watched the rings expand across the water. And she realized that in spite of the fact that he was evil and she was not, he was the stronger here and now. In spite of all the life she had to give, and all the life he had taken, he was the stronger for it.
“Throw in the plate,” he said.
She held the plate in both hands, testing its weight and balance, then reached back and unleashed it like a flying disc. It sailed briefly then sliced into the water and was gone.
“Good,” he said.
“Yes.”
“There is bad news about Charlie Bravo.”
She felt her anger spike and her exhaustion return, but she said nothing.
“He was difficult to understand on the telephone. Evidently he became lost in Mexico. He mistook Monterey for Merida and now the hurricane has closed the highways. So he cannot be here on the agreed day. Of course, he cannot get on an airplane with such money. He begged for your life.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Mrs. McKenna, I have never in my life been untruthful to a promise.”
“So, on that day you kill me.”
He looked at her for a long moment but his back was to the lowering moon and she couldn’t see his face. “However I am now willing to negotiate with you.”
“So, negotiate.”
“I will give Charlie Bravo one additional day to get here if you will write and record the song. It is to be about me and this time and place in which we live.”
“I’ve never written a song in three days.”
“The studio would be yours.”
“The greatest narcocorrido ever written. In three days.”
“Yes.”
“What if I fail? What if you don’t like it?”
“I ask for a work of your heart. Not for the heart itself.”
“Or you take my skin.”
He nodded as if annoyed. “Maybe you would like to walk from your room to the studio when you desire. Then go back to your room when you desire to go. You would have Owens to be your escort for these small journeys. And perhaps this freedom would help you write.”
Erin felt emotions trying to form-hope, joy, gratitude, exultation. But they were only partial, still paralyzed by her fear. One more day to live was one more day to escape. One more day for Bradley to get here, if he was having any trouble at all. Take the day, girl. “You leave me no choice. Yes.”
“I am very pleased. We shall now celebrate with a very good dinner. You will tell me about being a girl in Texas. And I will tell you about being a boy in Veracruz. Did you know that Veracruz means true cross? Because Cortez landed there on Good Friday in fifteen-nineteen. Four hundred and ninety-three years ago-the first European city in Mexico. Cortez brought flamenco and folklorico and violins and cellos and guitarons! Or, perhaps these came later. We will talk and talk and talk. Then you will begin the writing.”
26
The next morning Hood walked through the lobby of the Merida Hyatt Regency, then into the growing heat of the city. Twenty-four hours in Merida and nothing, he thought. Didn’t Armenta want his cool million? The thought crossed his mind that Armenta may be playing him like a starting pitcher, letting him go as long as he needed before bringing in the closer-the sicarios would just swarm in, take the money and kill him once and for all. He was in the heart of the Gulf Cartel’s turf, at Armenta’s mercy.
He lost himself in the sidewalk crowd and called up to Luna again. Then he went to the street corner and bought another cup of iced coffee from a vendor and walked back the way he had come, past the lobby, to the next intersection. He stood and watched the cars and trucks go by. He bought a pack of gum off a cart. Merida was a colonial city but the hotel was in the newer financial district. Ivana had trampled the northeast and now the weather was hot and humid. There were still downed trees and power lines and a shortage of fresh water in parts of the city but Merida was back to business so far as Hood could see.
He took his time walking back to the lobby, where he got another newspaper and tried to remain obvious and approachable. He got his boots shined and ate breakfast in the hotel cafe while he tried to read the paper. The satellite phone buzzed on his hip.
“Has he called? Where are you?” asked Bradley.
“Hold.” Hood pocketed the phone and went into the men’s room, bolting himself in a private stall at the far end of the row. “Merida. Nothing from Armenta. Silence.”
“Wednesday’s the payday, Charlie. Day after tomorrow. You can’t stall out in Merida.”
“I can’t just show up at the Castle, either. I’m not supposed to know where she is, remember? He’d kill me on principle, and probably her too. Where are you?”
“Close to her. Two-point-four miles of jungle away. I got in yesterday. I’m a gringo fisherman staying at the Hotel Laguna in Bacalar. Cleary is my fishing bud and Caroline Vega is his girlfriend. We’ve got a rental car and a rental motorboat and tackle for tomorrow. For tarpon fishing off Cayo Lobos, you know? But if Erin can hit her mark, the four of us will be across the Bacalar Lagoon and headed for the airport in Chetumal. We’ve got Fidel and his men for protection. We’ll be in the air about the time Armenta knows she’s missing. Now, if something happens to me or she can’t get away to find me, that leaves you one day to get the money to him. You’re the clean-up hitter, Charlie. If you can’t deliver, we’ll have to use force.”