She noticed my gesture and held up the envelope, "Looking for something?"
"You know I can't let you leave with that," I said, taking a step towards her.
She knelt down and snatched up her pistol from the mess on the floor. "You can stop right there. Move back into the corner."
I froze. Fifteen feet separated us, too far to attempt disarming her again. Seeing no other choice, I slowly backed into the far corner of the kitchen.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Hawkins, I have a treasure to find. If I was you, I'd scurry on back to that little sailboat of yours," she said.
My jaw dropped. "How do you know my name?"
"A gentleman never asks. A lady never tells. This was fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime," she said, favoring me with a seductive smile.
"Could you at least tell me your name?" I asked, as she reached the back door.
She opened the door, and for a moment I thought she would vanish without telling me. "It's Jaye Mercury."
"I'll be looking for you, Jaye Mercury," I answered.
"I'm sure you will," She said confidently, and then as an afterthought added, "Oh! I wouldn't stick around too long if I were you. That gunshot will bring those army goons back any moment."
"What gunshot?" I asked, confused.
She took her aim off of me, pointed the gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger twice. Two deafening cracks echoed through the house.
"That one," she said and disappeared through the back door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I made it to the door in time to see my only lead to the idol disappear. I sprinted out of the house, pumping my arms, but immediately came to an abrupt stop. From around the corner of the old woman's house came one of the lumbering, green military trucks. It skidded to a stop outside of the front door of the villa. Ducking behind the low garden wall, I scrambled on my hands and knees back to the house. From the front of the house I could hear a man's voice barking orders in staccato Spanish, and seconds later I could hear the thud of boots hitting the ground as the truck disgorged its troops.
I flung the door shut and slid the lock. Back in the main room, I could already see shadowy forms moving past the windows on all sides. They had surrounded the house again. For the third time in an hour, I was sure I was caught.
The cellar! My eyes darted to the table, and then to the rug placed over the trapdoor. The soldiers had knocked the table askew in their search. Books and broken glass covered both it and the rug. The sounds of the approaching men grew louder. Any moment they would come pouring through the busted front door.
I threw the rug back and yanked open the trapdoor. I couldn't just close it and make a run for it. The troops would instantly home in on the exposed door and follow me. I had to cover my tracks somehow. Quickly, I grabbed the nearest table leg and slid the behemoth table back towards the middle. It slid easily and quietly on the carpet. Then I grabbed the corner of the rug and threw it over myself as I stood in the hole in the floor. With any luck, the old rug would lay flat once the trapdoor was closed. I descended the rickety wooden stairs, letting the hatch fall into place above me.
Silently, I slunk back from the stairs, feeling my way in the dark. After a few minutes, my eyes adjusted to the blackness. The floorboards above were spaced far enough apart to allow traces of light to filter through where they weren't obstructed by rugs and furniture.
Shadows flitted across the lines of light as the soldiers moved above me. They talked little. Occasionally I would hear a curt order given by a man with a gruff voice. Less frequently I would hear the whispered reports of his men. This continued for several minutes until I heard furniture being moved around. They weren't giving up so easily on their search this time. There was nothing left for me here, and remaining increased my chances of being caught. It was time to go.
I pulled a small but powerful flashlight from my pocket and covered the end with my hand before turning it on. It was bright enough it cast a reddish glow around the cellar as the light filtered through my hand. It wasn't hard to find the escape tunnel Dr. Blatt had spoken of. A stone archway spanned a black gap in one wall, large enough for two men to walk upright side by side. Beyond the opening, a flagstone path led into the blackness away from the center of the house.
I slipped into the tunnel and removed my hand from the flashlight. Its tightly focused beam cast a small circle of blindingly white light wherever I pointed it, but provided little in the way of ambient illumination. I swept the beam around the tunnel, noticing the rough-cut stone. Small piles of masonry dotted the pathway where roots had broken through the stonework.
The tunnel looked to be ancient, possibly from the colonial era. There were small alcoves built into the walls every ten feet, probably holders for lanterns or torches, I guessed. I counted the sets of alcoves, attempting to keep track of how long the tunnel ran, but gave up after reaching a hundred. Still, the tunnel ran off into the darkness, bending slightly to the right.
After what felt like a half a mile later, the black gloom in front of me brightened to a midnight blue. I rounded one of the tunnel's gentle curves and had to shield my eyes from the sunlight spilling in from the entrance. When my eyes adjusted, a wall of green and brown jungle surrounded the opening, encroaching almost into the tunnel itself. It was just as Miles Blatt
