"It wouldn't be a bother, would it? I won't lie, it was a bit of a trek from the resort and as you know, the town is crawling with General Blackmarket's troops."
"Bardales," he corrected.
"Whatever. Where's that file at? I might as well learn what I can."
The already dim room suddenly grew darker, as if a cloud had moved in front of the sun. Both Blatt and I instinctively looked to the dingy windows and realized it wasn't a cloud that had dimmed the sun, it was people. Blurry shadows moved behind the windows and a split second later we both jumped at a sudden loud banging at the front door.
"Señor Blatt. Please open this door immediately, on behalf of the Department of Cuban Antiquities," a heavily accented but firm voice called out in English.
"Shit!" Blatt exclaimed. "Bardales must know I'm after the Alma too."
"What does that mean for you? Hell, what does that mean for me? I'm not exactly here legally, Doc!" I reminded him.
Another loud pounding from the door increased my desperation. Panicked, I ran to the back kitchen entrance and took a hasty glance. More hazy shadows stood fidgeting behind each of the windows. There seemed to be no way out. The house appeared surrounded.
"Chase!" Miles whispered. "Listen to me. I am most likely about to be arrested. I have a way for you to get out, but I'm no adventurer, I won't run from this. There is a file hidden in the bookcase. It has all the information you need. Once they leave, sneak back in and get it. It will lead you to the idol."
I paused long enough to collect my wits and wondered what trick he had up his sleeve. As if he had read my mind, he slid the giant work table aside and lifted the corner of the rug to reveal a hidden trapdoor.
"What if they find the file?" I asked, already moving towards the door.
Blatt pulled it open and motioned me inside. "Pray they don't. Stay down there until they leave. The passage comes out in the rain forest on the east side of the village. If they follow you, don't stop until you're well away."
"How the hell did you know about this?" I asked, surprised.
"I didn't choose to rent this rundown old shack for nothing. Now go! Don't worry about me. When the idol is gone, Bardales will lose interest and let me go."
I hesitated a moment, just as another warning boomed out from behind the heavy front door.
"Señor Blatt. This is your last warning," the voice bellowed.
Blatt's head snapped towards the door and he yelled out in all his Scottish glory, "I'm comin' ya lavvy-heided wankstain!" He then swiveled his head back towards me and urged me on. "Go, lad! Get down there."
I nodded at him, silently wishing him luck, and clambered down the stairs into the unknown. As soon as I was clear, he replaced the trapdoor and rug. I could hear him sliding the table back into place as the front door of the old villa exploded with a loud crack. Gruff voices filled the room above, drowned out by the colorful, but foul, protests of Miles Blatt.
The voices raged back and forth, growing in both volume and intensity as men filed into the house. Finally, someone shouted something in Spanish, loud enough to rise over the commotion, and a moment later Blatt's insults ceased with a sickening crunch. A single low moan escaped the Scotsman as he collapsed to the floor above me. An ear-splitting silence filled the room for nearly a minute until someone dragged his unconscious body away.
CHAPTER SIX
Blatt's precariously stacked towers of books crashed down one after another as the soldiers searched the house. I pressed my head against the trapdoor, trying to glean whatever information I could from the rapid-fire Spanish being spoken above. What little I could understand was muffled, the rest might as well have been gibberish.
Footsteps boomed overhead, and every few minutes I could hear the flutter of book pages followed by a dull thud as someone threw book after book across the room. The sound was regular and methodical. Flutter. Thud. Flutter. Thud. I realized they must be searching for Blatt's file on the Alma del Taino.
Years of dust and dirt rained down on me from the floorboards. The urge to sneeze came on me slowly, compounding upon itself the longer I held it. I forced back wave after wave of the violent and involuntary seizures, my body spasming with each one. Finally,a single small squeak sneaked past my lips, and mercifully, the sneezing fit stopped.
The noise above ceased as well, going deathly silent for several moments. In my mind, I could picture half a dozen heads cocking as they strained their ears for the slightest of sounds. I kept myself frozen, muscles tensed, ready to flee if I had to. Eventually, the soldiers resumed their efforts to tear apart the house, and I pulled the collar of my shirt over my nose to use as a makeshift mask.
The men above hunted for another ten minutes, ripping apart the furniture while they searched. I listened for a triumphant shout or some other signal they had found what they were looking for, but it never came. The tenor of their voices slowly morphed from expectation to frustration, the search becoming more brutal as the minutes ticked by.
"Vamonos!" A gruff voice commanded, loud enough to be heard clearly from my hiding place under the floor. Immediately the noise above slackened, and the footsteps of the soldiers faded away as they filed, one by one, towards the front door.
I waited five minutes, checking my watch obsessively before I was convinced they were gone, I pushed against the trapdoor. One corner lifted about an inch and then stopped. I pushed harder and
