of luggage. Digging through it, she didn’t see any shoes. Nearing the bottom, inside a pocket on the side, she found two passports. She flashed quickly to her uncle, but both had pictures of the same stranger.
“Pike, what’s going on here? Two passports for the same guy. One’s from Saudi Arabia and the other’s from the U.S. for some guy named Carlos. The picture’s the same in both. What do you suppose these are for?”
Pike blew out the air in his cheeks. “I really don’t know, and our time’s running out. Please keep looking.”
Jennifer dropped the passports and moved into the bathroom. Here she discovered a pair of ratty leather sandals, four sizes too big for her. She tried them on and found they would just about stay on her feet.
“Okay, I found something, but I’d probably be better off wrapping my feet in newspaper.”
“Good enough. It’s time to go. After you dress, we’re going out the same way I came in, through the woods down to the Jeep. We’ll be moving fast. If you have any trouble keeping up, say something. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re good to go. Any questions?”
Jennifer paused, then said, “Yeah, actually, I do. Why don’t we steal one of their vehicles right here instead of running through the jungle? They’ve got a bunch of Suburbans in the warehouse where you found me.”
“That sounds like a plan. Do you know exactly where they are?”
“Yeah. Head back to the place where you found me, but go into the door on the end of the warehouse. I saw the vehicles when they dragged me through there.”
“Okay. Get dressed. When you’re ready, we’ll go.”
I covered the outside of the room, waiting on her to put on the clothes. I was running contingencies through my mind when it dawned on me that I hadn’t done a single thing to find her uncle, the only reason we’d come down here in the first place.
“Jennifer — I’ve been in just about every room on this compound looking for you. I didn’t see any indication of your uncle.”
I felt sure the uncle was dead and didn’t want to spend a single second hunting for him. I looked her in the eyes, knowing if she wanted to search, I’d do it.
Her answer surprised me. “He’s dead. That fat bastard who runs this place told me so. If we get out of here alive, I’m going to do everything in my power to cause him a slow death.”
On her face I saw a little of the rage I keep hidden inside me. “I killed him, but it was quick. After seeing what they were doing to you, I wish I had taken my time.”
She looked up from putting on the sweatpants, a weak smile on her face. “Don’t beat yourself up. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were waiting outside for the perfect moment. You came in the nick of time. They didn’t do anything to me.”
I couldn’t believe the relief that washed over me. I felt a valve release. “I’m sorry about your uncle. I wish I could have done something to help him.”
“It’s done,” she said, finishing dressing. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Following her instructions, we had no trouble finding the vehicle bay. Two Suburbans, each with the keys in the ignition. Seconds later we were out of the compound, heading down to the highway. A quarter mile after leaving we saw a single set of headlights approaching. Since we were still on the compound road, it had to be someone related to Miguel. I tensed up, telling Jennifer to hold on tight. My entire assault on the compound had lasted a little over an hour, which, with driving time, meant that Machete’s men had only attended two of the meet times at the Plaza Mayor. With any luck, they had another hour before the men grew tired. Whoever this was probably had no intention of trying to stop us. We passed the vehicle at a high rate of speed, the headlights masking whoever was behind the wheel.
42
Abu Bakr watched the vehicle recede in his rearview mirror, wondering why it was going so fast. He passed through the inner gate, seeing it open, something that had never happened in the week that they had been there. He parked at the end of the drive and went to the front door. Entering, he advanced cautiously into Miguel’s study. First he saw Miguel apparently asleep in his chair, then a body on the floor, hands outstretched toward a weapon against the wall.
Bakr paused, catching the familiar slaughterhouse smell of bodily fluids slowly crusting. Somebody had hit Miguel’s enterprise, but how on earth had they gotten past Jake and all the rest of the security? He approached Miguel, stopping short five feet away. The back of his head was a raw crater, the wall splattered with bone and brain matter, reminding him of the martyrs he had seen die in Fallujah.
It looked like Sayyidd was going to get what he wanted after all. Now that Miguel was dead, their original mission was destroyed. The long-term infiltration into the U.S. had depended on his smuggling network. No doubt, someone would rise up and take charge of the massive organization, but it would be years before the infighting was done and someone was crowned king. No matter what Bakr had thought of the idea initially, getting to the temple and finding the weapon appeared to be the best course of action now.
Bakr raced from the room to his bungalow, seeing it had been ransacked, with their belongings thrown about haphazardly. He went straight to the box designed to test Miguel’s network and grabbed the GPS systems, test tubes, and the respirators, leaving the rest of the equipment. He then packed their clothes as fast as he could. He found everything but his favorite sandals. He looked under the bed and in the bathroom but couldn’t find them. Why would someone want those? They were old, worn out, and nasty, but had great sentimental value, as he had worn them on the hajj. He had no answer but had wasted enough time looking for them.
He grabbed the luggage, returned to the car, and raced out of the compound, heading back to the restaurant. Right after making the turn onto the main highway, he passed a caravan of Suburbans led by Jake. There was one answer: Jake hadn’t been on the compound. When he found out what had happened, Guatemala City was going to turn into a bloodbath.
Abu Bakr returned to the restaurant, relaying to Sayyidd everything he had seen. Sayyidd was fascinated by the story, seeing it as another example of Allah’s will. “Now we’re the only ones looking for the temple. Everyone else is dead. If that isn’t a sign of God’s plan, then nothing is. We’re going to succeed.”
Bakr wondered how Sayyidd had managed to live as long as he had when he deferred all decisions to blind faith. “That may be true, but we still need to be careful. Allah guides the righteous but turns his back on fools. We need to get rid of Miguel’s vehicle and get out of Guatemala City. We need to plan our next move, not simply run into the jungle half prepared.”
With that, he stood up, throwing some money on the table to pay for dinner. Sayyidd followed him outside. They unloaded the Suburban and took a cab to the main bus station in Zona 1. Sayyidd moved to a corner and loaded the GPS data from the thumb drive into the Garmin.
Moving back outside to allow the GPS to see the sky, Bakr waited for it to lock on to the satellite signals. It eventually beeped and showed them their current location.
Bakr went to the waypoint manager and looked at the waypoints now stored in the GPS. They numbered fifteen, without any special labels. He frowned. This gave them the general location, but without knowing which waypoint was the location of the temple, they would be thrashing around the jungle for months.
“This isn’t going to work. We don’t have the time or experience to go treasure hunting.”
Sayyidd took the GPS. “Let me look at something.”
Sayyidd went to the main menu and pulled up “tracks,” a setting on the Garmin that left a bread-crumb trail wherever the GPS went. The latest track stored went generally straight, weaving here and there, passing through all of the waypoints. When it hit waypoint fifteen, it began a looping journey, moving north, then back south, continuing back crazily through the jungle before ending at the start point of the expedition.
Sayyidd smiled. “The boy Eduardo didn’t put a waypoint at the temple, but the professor ran the GPS with the track feature on. It shows everywhere they went. It looks like waypoint fifteen was the last camp where the boys took the GPS. All we need to do is mark another one at the farthest location, where the track loops back onto itself.”
Within seconds he did exactly this, labeling it sixteen. “Now, we simply need to move to this location.”
