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“Anyone have any C-4 explosives?” Jordan asked.
“Pretty sure that would cause this tunnel to cave in, Scott,” said Friedlein, his partner, doubtfully. “And we’d be announcing ourselves. It’s not our mission.”
“We could rig it with explosives and a trip wire,” suggested Mercado.
“Quiet,” Suki said. There was something approaching them from behind. Her insides shriveled with worry. “Someone’s coming.”
“Infrared,” Jordan said. The soldiers all switched to night vision.
“Nothing,” said another, dropping to a knee and aiming his rifle into the corridor.
The stone behind them grew brighter and began to grind and lift.
“Uh-oh,” Jordan muttered, turning as the stone began to rise.
A jaguar shrieked as it bounded out at them. One of the soldiers pulled his trigger on reflex, sending bullets spraying down the corridor.
Suki brought up a web of kem äm in front of them just before the ricocheted shots killed them all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
JAGUAR TEMPLE
CALAKMUL BIOSPHERE RESERVE
January 10
Jacob soared over the temple compound in the form of a native peregrine falcon. Its speed and fierceness suited him. Beneath his wings, he saw the glowing structures of the pyramids and buildings of Calakmul. In the past, the city of Calakmul had been a dominating force for the ancient Maya. Jacob’s family had deposed the original rulers and taken over the kingdom—renaming it in their image—and made it even grander, more prosperous. It would be so again.
The whir of a drone came from above. Jacob banked sharply and focused his attention on the military weapon used for spying and surprise attacks. It hovered above the protective strings of kem äm, which formed a semispherical shell around the compound. The military had tested the aerial borders of Calakmul, and each time, the magic had repulsed the drones. But more had been sent, and now Jacob and his people were being monitored with their cameras. With an angry thought, he sent a pulse of magic and fried the circuitry of the drone as he passed it. He saw sparks lash out from its hull, and the drone plummeted until it hit the shell of kem äm and ricocheted off it into the blackness. He wanted an audience. He just didn’t want to make it too easy for them. Games were no fun when the other side presented no challenge.
Jacob did another circuit around the compound. As he passed over the arena, he gazed down at the crowd assembled there. These were the faithful, awaiting the victory that would put them into prominent positions in the new order. They’d gathered from around the world to protect themselves and their families from the devastation about to be unleashed on the population of the planet. They’d received the glyph that would protect them from the disease ravaging Europe and, soon, the rest of the world. Each had invested time and their winnings from the death games to furnish protective compounds where they’d live while death ravaged the world and depleted the population. There would be tens of thousands of homes left vacant by the plague. And the faithful would inherit them. Gangs schooled in the kem äm would be Jacob’s enforcers. Already they were preparing to cross the borders and wreak havoc on America. And after that conquest, they’d turn their vision on other countries, which would be destabilized and vulnerable.
Jacob had thought he’d be feeling a sense of triumph. But his victory would feel bittersweet because he’d had to kill Angélica. With her dead, the only other person who knew the general location of Aztlán was Suki Roth. He’d offered her the chance to be someone powerful in his new world, and she’d spurned him. She’d be dealt with. He’d see to it she died too.
Banking sharply, he used his magically enhanced senses to locate Victor, his chief of security. He sensed him down in the plaza near the main temple at Calakmul. Tucking in his wings, Jacob sped down like a bullet and transformed back into a man as he landed.
Victor, walking at a fast pace along a sacbe path, was so startled by his sudden appearance he nearly dropped the satellite phone he was holding. “I need to go,” he said into the phone. “Mr. Calakmul just arrived.” Then he ended the call.
“Who was that?” Jacob pressed, walking alongside his longtime servant. The Maya had made this network of plaster and limestone roads that literally glowed in moonlight.
“Arturo in Cozumel. American paratroopers landed at the ruins in San Gervasio.”
“How does he know they’re American?”
“The patches on their uniforms are from the 82nd Airborne. It’s a quick-strike team.”
It was concerning news, but Cozumel had little strategic interest for Jacob at the moment. His resort on the island was where he’d lured the wealthy into the death games. It had been abandoned, temporarily, and would be returned to after victory was achieved.
“Does Arturo know what they want?”
“He has no idea. I was going to send the Mexican military in to deal with them. I tried to reach Angélica to report this to her, but no one knows where she is.”
Just the mention of her name made Jacob wince.
Victor knew his master’s moods and noticed the reaction. “Is there . . . trouble?”
“She’s dead,” he answered flatly, trying to be unemotional about it. He’d invested so much in her. Had cared for her deeply. He felt himself losing control of his composure, his face muscles twitching.
