Bones of the Sun God Page 10

  “It is stored in the rubber,” Elio said. “I don’t know how. I heard Azeem talking about it with Mr. Ramos out by the pool. It is the latest technology from America. Very expensive. Mr. Ramos spared no expense with his park.”

  “This is pretty cool,” Sam said, admiring his suit with newfound respect. “So the sacrifices are grabbed by the crocs and dragged under the water and they breathe on the mouthpiece until Mr. Ramos makes the crocodiles leave?”

  Elio nodded.

  “But why do the crocodiles let go of them?”

  “I do not know,” Elio said. “Mr. Ramos says he has the power to command the crocodiles, given to him by the Sun God.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  Elio shrugged. “The crocodiles never touch him. And on his command, they release the sacrifices.”

  Sam looked at his suit. “Your idea for my escape doesn’t involve me being grabbed by a crocodile, does it?”

  “No,” Elio said. “I told you. Except for the untrained crocodiles in these cages, all the rest are sent out to the river at night to hunt for their food. You will be quite safe.”

  Sam didn’t share Elio’s confidence in his statement, but he stayed quiet. “So, what is your plan?” he asked.

  “You can swim up the tunnel to the main pool.”

  “Swim?”

  “Yes. That’s why you need the suit. It is too far to hold your breath. You will need the air in the suit.”

  Sam nodded. In the dark, he couldn’t see Elio’s face, and he had no idea how confident the boy was, but he didn’t sound as if he was sure about the idea. “Then what?” Sam asked.

  “You can pick the lock to the door into the gift shop and escape down the tunnel.”

  “Won’t the main door be locked too?” Sam asked.

  “Yes,” Elio replied. “But neither are combination locks, so you can open them, yes?”

  Sam wasn’t so sure. A door lock was tougher than a padlock. Not impossible, just time-consuming. Then he thought of something else. “What about alarms?”

  “Not in the pools. Only once you get into the gift shop,” Elio said helpfully. “But you can be out before Azeem comes, yes?”

  “What do you mean, before Azeem comes?” Sam asked. “Do he and Ramos live here?”

  “Not Mr. Ramos. He goes home to his mansion,” Elio replied. “But Azeem sleeps in a room near Mr. Ramos’s office.”

  “Oh, great,” Sam said. Even if he could pick the first lock, he would have to run down to the main doors and attempt that one. There was plenty of time for Azeem to grab him. His slim chance of escape was becoming a zero chance, but then his mind went back to alarms.

  “Elio, why did the fire brigade come the other day?”

  “A fire in the gift shop,” the boy replied.

  Sam thought about the fire Azeem had set at the hotel. His inspiration for the stunt must have come from the Xibalba fire. “Are there any fire alarms by the pool?”

  “No,” the boy said. “They are all inside.”

  The silence in the cage room was interrupted by the muffled opera singing coming from Sam’s phone again. This time he reached into his bag and grabbed the device. He clicked accept, but before he could speak, Mary’s high-pitched voice screeched out of the earpiece.

  “Sam Force, are you there? Now, before you get mad, I know it is three a.m., but I couldn’t sleep. I had to call and see how you are doing.”

  Sam rubbed his ear and moved the phone away from his head, but he could still hear Mary perfectly.

  “Are you there, Sam? If I’ve got your voice mail again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “I’m here. Okay.” Sam laughed. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk really, really fast? No. Don’t answer that,” he added quickly. “Look, Mary, I can’t talk right now. I’m in a bit of trouble.”

  “And let me guess, you don’t have time to explain.”

  “No, I can explain,” Sam said. “Felix Ramos caught me and locked me in a cage in his crocodile park.”

  The line went silent for the first time since Sam had answered the call. Then Mary said, “Are you telling the truth?”

  “Kind of,” Sam replied. “I got out of the cage, but I’m still stuck in the crocodile park.”

  “Sam, are you okay?” The humor had left Mary’s voice. “I mean, you’re obviously not okay. What can I do?”

  “I don’t know. What can you do?” Sam knew he should sound more worried. He wasn’t trying to impress Mary by acting cool about the situation. Perhaps, he thought, he was just too exhausted to get any more afraid.

  “Do you have a plan?” Mary asked.

  “I did,” Sam replied. “I was thinking about setting off a fire alarm—you know, for distraction.”

  “Would that work?”

  “Maybe,” Sam said. “If I could get to a fire alarm without setting off the burglar alarm.”

  “Maybe I can help with that?”

  “Are you talking about hacking into Xibalba’s computer system?” Sam said.

  “No,” Mary said. “I tried that when you told me about Felix Ramos. But it has better security than the US government websites.”

  “Figures,” Sam said. “This guy likes his tech.”

  “But I don’t need to get into his computer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I bet the Orange Walk Fire Department doesn’t have an encrypted computer system,” Mary said confidently. “I bet little old me could walk right in there, digitally speaking, and trigger Xibalba’s fire alarm from that end.”

  Sam smiled, and Elio saw the change. “Sam, what is it?” he asked.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute,” Sam said to the boy.

  “Is there someone with you?” Mary asked in Sam’s other ear.

  “Yeah,” Sam replied. “But that’s a long story. How much time will it take you to set off the fire alarm?”

  The line went quiet for a few seconds. “Give me thirty minutes,” Mary answered.

  “What?!” Sam protested. “I can’t hang around here. It’ll be morning soon.”

  “Okay, okay. Twenty minutes. Give me twenty minutes to get in position.”

  “In position? What do you mean? What time is it in Switzerland?”

  “Just be ready,” Mary answered firmly. “I have to go. I have things to do.”

  The line went dead, and Sam put the phone down.

  “Who was that?” Elio asked.

  “A friend,” Sam said. “Tell me about the tunnel into the main pool?”

  14

  HELP FROM ABOVE

  THE CROCODILE WAS STILL IN the pool. Sam still couldn’t believe how real it looked.

  “Have you found the control box?” Elio’s voice sounded dull behind the glass wall. Sam had another pang of guilt about leaving the boy trapped in his cage, but he had insisted and time was running out.

  “I found it,” Sam hissed, not brave enough to shout. According to Elio’s map, Azeem was well out of earshot, but he didn’t want to risk it.

  The fuse box on the wall opened to reveal two rows of red buttons. Following Elio’s instructions, Sam pushed B1 and B2. He felt the vibrations under his feet that Elio had told him would mean the door to the tunnel that led to the main pool was opening.

  “I’m going now,” Sam said in the direction of the cage room. He heard Elio’s muffled “Good luck” as he lowered himself into the water.

  In his suit, he didn’t notice the change in temperature. The Kevlar-impregnated rubber insulated him from the cold. Sam checked the zip at his neck was pulled up tight, and he placed a hand on his waist, where he could feel his notebook and phone. They were essential, but he had been forced to leave his backpack and his father’s trench coat behind. Elio’s last words to him in the cage room had been a promise to look after his father’s lucky coat.

  Sam pushed the button on his left sleeve. The breathing unit popped out, and he wrapped his mouth around it and took a breath. The air tasted stale and rubbery
, but it was breathable. As he slipped below the surface, Sam took another, deeper breath. His lungs filled, and he kicked off the side, heading for the tunnel below.

  Sam hovered outside and peered into the gloom. At first all he could see was black, but then he made out a tiny blue rectangle of light. The exit into the big pool looked a long way off. He felt his doubts growing, but before the feelings could take hold, he started kicking. His body straightened, and he entered the tunnel with his legs pumping up and down the way the swimming coach at St. Albans had taught him.

  It was pitch-black inside the tunnel, like swimming in ink. The only guide Sam had was the small block of blue light in the distance. It didn’t change in size, and as he swam on, he got the feeling he wasn’t making any progress. He imagined a current coming down the tunnel holding him in place, trapping him in the darkness. His breaths got shorter and faster. How long would the air last? Surely the suit couldn’t hold much. This new thought triggered fresh fears. With every breath, he expected the unit to fail. He kicked harder, fueled by the image of an agonizing death in the watery tomb.

  Gradually, the block of light ahead got larger. Sam’s legs were aching, and his lips stung from holding the mouthpiece in place, but the pain was forgotten as he popped out into the main pool. Sam surfaced, spat out the breather, and sucked in a lungful of the fresh night air.

  Lights in the bottom of the pool cast a soft blue glow out of the water into the front rows of seating. As Sam hung there, treading water, he suddenly felt like a massive target. A black blob in the middle of a glowing blue circle. The image spurred his legs back into action, and he kicked to the edge of the pool.

  Water dripped off his wet suit as he clambered out. The noise echoed around him and sounded disastrously loud. Sam ran for the shadows of the second row of seats but looked back in horror at the wide, wet trail he’d made from the pool to his hiding place. He hoped Elio was right about there being no guards inside the complex at night.

  Loosening the zip of his wet suit, Sam fished out his phone. The message on the screen from Mary read, CALL IF YOU CAN, and Sam’s heart sank as he hit the green button.

  “Sam, is that you?” Mary whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Sam whispered back. “I’m the one who’s hiding.”

  “Sorry, a nervous habit,” she replied, but she kept her voice low. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “What’s wrong? Can’t you get into the fire department’s system?”

  “That’s all set,” Mary said. “I’m ready to go. But I think I can be of more help.”

  “How?” Sam asked.

  “I can guide you out,” she said. “Once you get to the main door, I’ll have eyes on you, so I can help you across that car park.”

  “Really?” Sam was impressed and confused. “How are you going to do that? Have you hacked into a satellite or something?”

  “Something like that. I don’t have time to explain. Call me the moment you get out the door, and keep the phone to your ear. You might not be able to talk, but I’ll be able to tell you where to go to avoid the people in the car park. . . . Sam, are you still there?”

  Sam was; he just didn’t know what to say. He knew Mary was good with computers, but this was way beyond anything he could imagine.

  “So what next?” he asked.

  “My computer just told the Orange Walk Fire Department computer that every fire sensor in Xibalba is going off, so they’re responding to a massive fire. Get ready.”

  After Mary hung up, Sam moved closer to the double doors that lead to the gift shop and tunnel. Last time he had been here, he was on his knees, crawling through a crowd of tourists. Not for the first time, he reflected on what a bizarre day it had been.

  The amphitheater was deathly still. The terraced seating blocked out any wind, and the only noise came from Sam’s movements. He stood by the doors like an overeager shopper lining up to be first for a sale. Away from the light of the pool and decked out in his black rubber, he felt almost invisible, but as he stood there, paranoia got the better of him. He imagined security cameras watching him and decided to move back to the cover of the nearest seats.

  Sam lay down between two rows and ran through what was about to go down. The place had stayed silent. That meant the fire alarms had only been triggered at the fire department, which was a good thing. There would be little or no warning for Azeem when they arrived. What would he do? Elio had said the small pool and cage room were secret. Azeem wouldn’t be worried about the firemen finding his prisoners. His first instinct would be to run straight to the main entrance to find out why they had turned up. Then what? Sam pictured the Scar-Faced Man and the firemen rushing down to the gift shop to fight the fire. They would spend a few minutes checking before deciding it had been a false alarm. That was when Azeem would get suspicious. He would run back to Ramos’s office and down to the small pool and find Sam gone.

  Sam suddenly felt sick. Lying there running through the events that were about to go down, he spotted a huge flaw in his plan. The firemen were expecting a fire in the gift shop. Sam was in the amphitheater. If they didn’t come out through the door, he couldn’t get away. He patted his body madly, like he was on fire. He finally felt his pocketknife. He had tucked it in along with his notebook and phone. He pulled it out of his wet suit and opened the lock-picking attachment. He was going to have to try his luck on the door anyway.

  Sam heard the sirens as he got to work. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid. Picking a door lock was hard enough, but he had just made the job even tougher. The first bit of good news was that the lock didn’t look too complicated. Sam tried to block out the noises drifting into the amphitheater. Over the sirens, he could hear screeching tires, and then men shouting. From the other side of the door, he heard a thumping sound that had to be the main doors being thrown open.

  He moved the picking device around; the urge to speed up the slow, circular movements was overwhelming, but he knew it would be a mistake. The first rule of lock picking was patience. He stopped, took another cautious breath, and resumed his work, ignoring the sudden noise of shouting men in the tunnel.

  Finally, Sam was rewarded with a tiny click. He let out a hushed yes in celebration. He grabbed the door handle, then froze as he remembered the burglar alarm. Would it be off? As he weighed up the risk, the noises on the other side of the door grew louder, and he knew he had to make a move.

  He pushed down on the handle, opening the door just enough to slip through, and then shut it immediately.

  The only light in the gift shop came from a small aquarium behind the counter. Sam moved away from it, searching for the long row of shirt racks he remembered. He found it just as a group of men, weighed down by bulky equipment, burst into the space.

  Sam kept moving, using the cover of the clothing racks. He knew it would only take a few moments for the men to work out that there was no fire and, worse, find the light switch. He ran at a crouch, out of the gift shop and up the tunnel, relieved to see the light boxes with the croc heads weren’t on; the tunnel was pitch-black.

  Sam was in another black tunnel heading for a rectangle of light. Instead of blue, this was filled with flashing red. Sam could see more figures rushing around outside. Judging by the noise levels, Mary had done a great job summoning the fire department. He ran on, wary of the side door he had been taken through to meet Ramos. He didn’t want to run into Azeem, not when he was so close to escaping.

  He reached the door and peered out, surprised to see only three fire trucks in the parking lot. From inside it had sounded like the entire Belize fire brigade.

  A car with a flashing red light sped in through the front gate. The men standing by the fire trucks walked over to greet the new arrival and Sam used the opportunity to dart out into the darkness and move along the wall toward the staff car park.

  Immediately, his phone began vibrating in his hand. He’d been ready to call Mary, but she had beaten him to it. He put the
phone to his ear, and she started speaking.

  “Stop. Get down,” she ordered.

  Sam’s first thought was that Mary’s ridiculously complicated scheme was going to fail. He had been doing fine without her. There was nothing coming his way. He stopped anyway, thinking of the simplest way to tell her he didn’t need her help. As he got down on one knee, a car roared into life, and moments later it sped out through the gates of the staff parking lot, heading for the main entrance.

  “That was close,” Mary said.

  Sam could only manage a whispered “Thanks.”

  “There’s no one else near you,” Mary said, and Sam took comfort from her calm tone. “When I tell you, I want you to run straight ahead. And don’t stop till you get to the fence.”

  Sam’s doubts came racing back. The fence looked a mile away, across wide-open ground. He’d be spotted for sure. He desperately wanted to question Mary but held his tongue.

  “Don’t go until I say,” Mary said.

  Sam forced himself to relax. He took a deep breath, but Mary shouted, “Now!”

  Sam got up and ran. The sound of his feet thumping on the concrete sounded so loud Sam expected to hear the men by the trucks call out with every step.

  “Keep going. You haven’t been spotted.”

  Mary seemed to be reading his mind, and Sam wondered how she was seeing him. Was he a tiny, grainy, night-vision-green image on a screen? Could she really know he was safe? The doubt and fear gave him more energy, and he increased his pace, or at least he imagined he had increased his pace.

  The pitch-black sprint came to a sudden and undignified end. Sam had run the whole way holding the phone near his ear, but he’d struggled to keep it in place. A few feet from the fence, he heard a few garbled words, and as he wondered what she’d said his foot hit empty space and he crashed down a small bank.