The Eye of Heaven by Clive Cussler
“Sam! What did you find?” Remi asked.
Sam’s expression was dejected as his gaze landed on each of their faces. He sighed deeply and then his face broke into a grin.
“Oh, nothing. Just the biggest emerald I’ve ever seen. It looks Incan to me, but what do I know?”
Sam led them down the stairs, warning again about the suspect eighth step as everyone followed him to the vault where he’d found the Eye of Heaven.
“Be careful. Try to walk in my footsteps. I don’t trust this floor. There could be a deadfall trap anywhere in here,” Sam cautioned. Remi took care to fit her feet into the prints Sam had left in the dust as she neared the glowing jewel. Lazlo followed, slightly more unsteadily, glancing around warily at the spiderwebs that drifted like ghostly tendrils from every surface. Antonio and Maribela were more confident in their approach, the environment their natural habitat after years exploring ruins.
They stood facing the stone. A decayed wooden chest rested nearby on the chamber floor like an afterthought. Sam cleaned off a thousand years of calcium that had accumulated on the emerald face with his bandanna and they took in the way the jewel refracted the light, glowing as if possessed of an inner energy. The stone was clear, nearly flawless, and easily the size of a grapefruit. It sat in a hand-beaten gold casing with stylized depictions of Quetzalcoatl on it.
“It’s stunning,” Lazlo whispered. “Like it has a life of its own. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Remi moved to the side and crouched down to study the remnants of the chest, the wood long ago rotted away, only the rusty bindings hinting at its original form. “I’d say it’s safe to assume that the Toltec made it into Inca territory. The emerald would have had to come from the Inca empire in what’s now Colombia. Look at these statues.”
Antonio nodded. “This is truly a priceless find.”
“How many carats would you say the emerald is?” Lazlo asked.
“I wouldn’t even know how to guess. Is ‘huge’ a number?” Sam said.
“Close enough, old man. Well played, by the way, all around. Been a busy week for the Fargos by any measure.”
“Yes, we’ve been very fortunate,” Remi said, returning to his side. “But now the real work begins. Antonio’s team needs to take over and make sense out of all this. All we did was follow a few clues—which we couldn’t have done without your help, Lazlo.” She paused. “As I’ve said numerous times, you’re a genius.”
“Never argue with a lady,” Lazlo said, beaming.
Maribela glanced at her watch. “I just realized that with all the excitement we haven’t eaten since breakfast. Does anyone want something for a late dinner? I can run to the nearest town and get something. The officers will want to eat, too.”
Sam turned. “Good idea. There’s not a lot more we can do here other than ensure nobody disturbs the site until we can get it properly secured.”
“I’ll go while you’re taking photographs. Are we planning on staying here tonight?” Maribela asked.
“I suppose so. No way I’ll be able to get any sleep now,” Remi said. “Tell you what, I’ll go with you.”
“No need. It could take a while to find something that’s open. Are chicken enchiladas good for everyone?” Maribela asked.
They all nodded.
“Perfect. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Do you want some money?” Sam asked.
“I’d say that you’ve made enough contribution to Mexico over the course of this adventure that we can buy you take-out food. It’s the least I can do.”
When Maribela had gone, Antonio looked around at the cave. “I’m going to get one of the work lamps from the temple so we have light.”
“Good idea. And while you’re at it, see if you can arrange more security. Finding this changes everything,” Sam said.
“Will do.”
Lazlo moved to the chest and examined the icons, careful not to touch them. Antonio returned a few minutes later with an LED lamp and set it near the Eye of Heaven so Remi could get photographs of everything. Once she’d filmed each item in the cave, they moved back to the landing, where she repeated the process with the carvings. When she was finished, they wearily climbed the stairs to the temple, Sam leading, Antonio behind him, Remi and Lazlo bringing up the rear.
An explosion of gunfire erupted from above, sounding like cannon fire in the enclosed space. The body of one of the officers tumbled down the stairs, his rifle clattering next to him. Sam stopped the man’s fall, checked his pulse, and grabbed the rifle as Antonio freed the man’s service pistol. Nobody said a word, their ears ringing, the policeman’s lifeless form blocking half the stairway.
Janus Benedict’s voice called out from the temple above.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Fargo. This isn’t the hill you want to die on, old chap. I assume you’re down there and by now have your hands on the guard’s rifle. Just put it down, nice and easy, and come out with your hands up.” Janus Benedict’s voice was calm and reasonable, like he was discussing a chess move.
Sam’s eyes searched the opening. “How do I know you won’t butcher us like you did this poor man?”
“Not my style. But my local partners aren’t as patient as I, so if you don’t drop any weapons, you’ll be facing a group you have no chance against. And they look jumpy.” Janus paused. “And, of course, there’s the Mexican woman. They’re holding a gun to her head. If this goes any further awry, it’s on you. Put down the pistol and it will all work out. You have my word.”
“Your word? A thief and a murderer?” Sam spat.
Janus’s tone hardened. “This is your last chance and then I’m afraid the lads here will shoot the young lady and toss her body down to you as an indication of their resolve. We don’t have a lot of time to quibble now that there’s been gunfire. Reinforcements will be here soon and I intend to be gone by then. So what’s it going to be? Prove a point and the girl gets it, or be sensible and live to fight another day?”
Antonio exchanged a look with Sam and shook his head, but Sam rose and tossed the rifle through the gap. Antonio scowled and then tossed the pistol up.
“We’re unarmed,” Sam called out and raised his hands.
“Yes. That’s much better,” Janus said as Sam climbed out of the opening, followed by Antonio. Maribela was standing next to Janus by the tomb entry, Reginald holding a pistol, Guerrero behind them with his own handgun, its ugly muzzle pointed in their direction.
Antonio’s face radiated relief, and then confusion, as Maribela smiled and stayed by Janus’s side as he approached. Guerrero moved to the discarded guns, kicked them a few feet farther away, and took up a position next to Reginald, his weapon trained on them.
Sam locked eyes with Janus. “Even for you, this is a low moment, Benedict. This is how you want to be remembered?”
“Not my doing, old chap. Really. But the locals do things differently and it’s their ball, so to speak. When in Rome . . .” Janus said, shaking his head. “Believe me, all the killing is as appalling to me as it is to you.”
“But you didn’t stop it.”
“Couldn’t. But I don’t condone it. I requested that this be done as antiseptically as possible. But I’m afraid that there’s a limit to how far I can influence the natives. A bloodthirsty bunch. Not my choosing, but there it is.”
“You’d have been right at home in Nuremberg.”
“Shut your filthy mouth or I’ll add your body to the pile,” Reginald threatened, his pistol pointing at Sam. “Who do you think you are, anyway? You’re lucky you’re still breathing, you ignorant American pleb.”
“What’s this, Janus? Brought your brother along to do the dirty work? Didn’t want to break a nail with the bloody stuff?” Sam taunted.
Reginald stepped forward and struck Sam across the face with his pistol. Sam grunted and held his hand up to where the butt had split his cheek open.
Janus turned to Reginald. “Now, then, no need for that. I??
Sam returned his stare but didn’t say anything for a few beats. “Rot in hell, Benedict.”
Janus shook his head, as if dealing with an ill-behaved child, and pulled an iPhone from his pocket. “Never mind. Ah, I see she’s down on the stairs. Hoping for one of your infamous Fargo miracles, I’d wager.” He cleared his throat. “Remi? Be a dear and don’t make me come get you. I know you’re there. Come out and play.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “A tracking device?”
“You are a bright one, aren’t you? Yes, I’ve been aware of your every move since Spain. Your wife’s lucky talisman is also my lucky talisman. Well worth the paltry sum it cost for the homing device.”
Several moments later, Remi moved from the gap, slowly, her flashlight gripped tightly, an expression of loathing being Janus’s reward. Lazlo lagged behind, looking shocked, his hands raised over his head.
Remi sneered at Janus. “I thought I smelled vermin. Should have known it was you, Benedict.”
“There, there. Don’t be such a bad loser. Not becoming at all.” Janus shrugged. “I love your necklace, by the way. You really have no idea how much.”
Remi tore the necklace off and tossed it on the ground. Maribela stepped forward and picked it up. “Very nice. A little vulgar, for my taste, but I’ll smile whenever I wear it.”
Remi started forward, fury in her eyes. “You scum.”
Janus stepped toward her. “Now, now, dear woman. I’d hate for your last breaths to be tarnished with unpleasantness.”
Sam spat blood on the dirt at his feet. “Then you are planning to kill us. So much for the moral high ground. You’re nothing but a two-bit thief and a murderer. Never bright enough to locate your own treasures, always reduced to stealing.”
Janus frowned. “You’ve got quite an ugly mouth on you, haven’t you? Both of you. I won’t be doing any such thing. However, my colleague here probably isn’t predisposed to leaving any loose ends, so I’m afraid that it doesn’t look good for you celebrating another anniversary together. The brother will be spared, with the promise that if he speaks a word, both he and his sister will meet with untimely ends. But you two pose a problem for which there’s only one obvious solution. If it’s any consolation, I’ll put in a request that it be swift and painless.”
Janus consulted his Patek Philippe wristwatch. “Do try to enjoy your final moments.”
“You’re cursed, Benedict,” Sam promised, drawing Remi to him.
Janus looked past the Fargos and eyed the stairway opening, taking in the slab off to the side. He moved closer and looked down into the dark space while Guerrero and Reginald kept their weapons trained on the group. After several seconds, he stepped back and turned to Maribela with the hint of a smile.
“Maribela, why don’t you take Reginald down to see the emerald while I sort out this unpleasantness?”
“Very well, Janus. Reginald?” Maribela said.
Antonio stared at her, confused, and then he shook his head and cursed in Spanish. “No. Why on earth . . . ?”
Maribela shrugged. “Shut up, Antonio. This is for the best. We have the photographs. The actual emerald isn’t going to do us any good—it’s not like we’re going to get a bonus for locating it. You yourself said that the treasure of the Toltecs was their history. We’ll still have that.”
Sam shook his head. “What kind of woman are you? Men died because of . . . what, greed? How much is he paying you? How much does it cost to betray everything you’ve worked for? I’m curious.”
Janus waved his statement off. “That’s none of your concern. Though I can’t deny that the lovely Maribela will be handsomely rewarded for her efforts. Now, go. We don’t have much time.”
Antonio looked devastated. “Maribela . . .”
“Let it go, Antonio. Trust me on this. In a week, we’ll be able to fund our own explorations and not have to beg for coins from the government. You may be fine living like this but I’m not,” Maribela said scornfully, and then pointed to the opening in the floor. “Come on, Reginald. I’ll show you the way.”
“Wait. I am going with you,” Guerrero snarled in heavily accented English.
“I’m not sure that’s necessary,” Janus said. “You’re rather more in need up here, I should think.”
“I am going,” Guerrero insisted, eyeing Reginald distrustfully.
“Ah, well, then, I see. But who will take care of this lot in your absence?” Janus asked, his civilized demeanor cracking, if only momentarily.
Guerrero walked over to where he’d kicked the guard’s Beretta pistol and scooped it up, then handed it to Janus, who held it like it was a live snake.
“You can. I’ll be back. When I am, I’ll finish the job for you,” Guerrero said with an ugly smirk. He called outside and a gunman holding an assault rifle filled the temple doorway. “Come in and watch these two,” he ordered in Spanish. The gunman moved inside.
Guerrero turned to Maribela and switched to English. “Lead the way. Your boyfriend’s right about one thing—we need to hurry. It won’t be long before the security force from the plant gets here, and we don’t want to have to shoot it out with a squad of soldiers.”
Maribela stepped down into the gap. Reginald descended the stairs behind her, his pistol in his belt, a look of false bravado on his face as his eyes nervously tracked the tunnel ceiling.
“Don’t worry. It’s held up for a thousand years. It should be safe for five more minutes,” Maribela said.
“I’m not worried. I just don’t much care for confined spaces,” he said, his voice cracking on the final words.
“Many people don’t.”
They made their way to the cave, where the work light was still illuminated, and approached the emerald.
“Bloody hell. That’s bigger than I thought it would be. Massive, isn’t it?” Reginald said in awe.
Maribela nodded, her gaze locked on the stone. Reginald stepped closer to it.
“The Eye of Heaven. It’s magnificent. Truly breathtaking,” he whispered, avarice and cunning in his eyes as he took in the priceless jewel.
“It is. There’s no telling how much a collector will pay. Many millions. Perhaps hundreds of millions,” she said, calculating her likely cut.
Reginald drew his pistol and turned to Maribela. “You really are a greedy bitch, aren’t you?”
Shock and fear played across her face. “No. I’ve . . . I’ve done everything you asked.”
“Which makes you stupid, in addition to greedy.”
She shook her head, panicked. “Your brother gave me his word . . .”
“Yes, well, I didn’t. I’ll take care of Janus. He’ll see the light when he’s saved the twenty percent he was going to pay you.”
The 9mm parabellum round struck Maribela in the center of the forehead. Her body stiffened and she collapsed, lifeless, to the ground. The sharp crack of the pistol reverberated in the stone chamber like a bomb detonating. Reginald slipped the weapon back into his belt and returned to the emerald. Guerrero grinned and clapped Reginald on the shoulder as they eyed the priceless jewel.
“So, cabrón, you like your money as much as I do, eh? Good. More for us!”
In the temple, the cartel gunman’s eyes never left the Fargos, his finger on the trigger of his Kalashnikov rifle, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Janus held the Beretta on Antonio, distaste evident in his expression at having had to sully his hands with the vulgar task.
The deafening sound of Reginald’s shot exploded from the stairwell, and then time seemed to compress and move in slow motion. The gunman instinctively turned to face the noise, if only for a moment—but long enough for Sam to pull his knife from his pants pocket and flip it open in a single move and fling it at the man’s throat. It plunged into his neck, the three-and-a-half-inch razor-sharp blade slicing through his trachea. His finger reflexively jerked the trigger of the
Janus tried to aim the Beretta at Sam but Remi’s booted foot connected with his wrist, sending the weapon spinning to the ground. He lunged for it, but Remi was a split second faster and he was almost on the gun when she grabbed it and slammed the butt into his temple. His eyes went out of focus and he slumped to the ground as Sam got hold of the cartel gunman’s rifle.
Sam dove for the work light and switched it off, plunging the temple into darkness. More shots rang out from the exterior of the building, but Sam held his fire as he waited for his eyes to adjust. He knew that without the light to target him and the others inside, the gunmen would be firing blind at the entry—a slim advantage but the only one he had.
“Antonio. I’m betting the gunman had a pistol. You ever use one?” Sam asked.
“I’ll figure it out.”
Guerrero’s voice echoed from the stairs. “Jaime! What’s going on up there?”
Remi crept to Sam’s side and murmured, “I’ll take them. You take the shooters outside.”
Sam quickly sized up the situation and nodded. “Deal.”
He saw movement in the dim exterior moonlight and sighted down the barrel of the rifle, then squeezed off three shots. Sam heard a grunt outside and crept forward to where the gunman’s corpse lay on the step. More shots sounded from outside and thumped into the body. Sam gritted his teeth and ignored the fire, focused on reaching the man and checking his pockets. He reached the entry and groped with his free hand, the rifle pointed into the night as he felt for the telltale shape of a thirty-round magazine or a pistol. He found a revolver in the man’s belt and pulled it loose, then slid it across the stone floor to Antonio.
Sam heard a rustle from the brush to the left of the temple and emptied the rifle into it. His fingers felt two magazines in one of the windbreaker pockets. He tore them free and rolled away as a hail of bullets blasted overhead. Sam ejected the spent magazine and slapped a new one in place and then chambered a round and squeezed off measured bursts at the killers outside.