Outcroppings — what the Aztec had called terraces — slipped by at a rapid rate and the valley floor grew closer with every passing minute. Twice more the mercs above attempted pot shots and twice more Healey and Russo dissuaded them. After a while their enemies must have decided that pursuit was the better option; the trained soldiers could move faster than Crouch’s team.
Russo called along the line. “At least nine to a dozen still chasing us.”
Alicia surveyed the floor of the valley, now huge and startlingly close. Sunlight bounced off the rocks and filled her forward vision. For all the tech Crouch and Caitlyn had brought to the team, the one thing they had forgotten was bloody sunglasses.
Still, it had been a wild ride since leaving Mexico.
Just how she liked it.
Gaining the flat ground, she immediately unslung her weapon and covered her team’s race to safety. Once they passed her she turned to run as Healey in turn dropped to one knee. Running this way, shielding each other, they traversed the exposed ground, moving more slowly but in a far safer formation. Crouch made them zigzag their run and drop behind random boulders, further confusing the pursuit. Alicia reminded them that Coker had left at least one man positioned back at Paria Canyon.
“Then it’s the Colorado.” Crouch pointed off to the left. He knew that America’s great river snaked within a few miles of this position and, although inaccessible for much of its length, offered two manageable staging areas not far from where they were.
“Satnav it, Caitlyn,” he said. “We haven’t a moment to waste.” As she worked and ran he put in another call to the authorities.
Alicia took her turn once more, protecting their escape with a few well-placed shots. Ahead now another ridge line became visible, a mini-cliff that formed the higher banks of the Colorado at this point. Caitlyn guided them toward a break in the ridge, where satellite photos had earlier revealed a viable route down to the river. More of a plan D, Alicia had never expected to be white water rafting during a treasure hunt, but those that adapted quickest survived. Or so she believed.
Reaching the top of the incline, and with Coker’s men about a quarter of a mile in their wake, Alicia swung her pack around and unfastened one of the zips. Dragging out a soft object in a bag she readied herself for the upcoming maneuver. The dinghy would inflate automatically and she’d have to be inside it by the time it hit the river. There were three dinghies between the team, the others held by Crouch and Healey.
Alicia slid between the upstanding rocks, each spire craggy and pockmarked, worn with age. The moment they dropped out of sight of their pursuers the team didn’t waste a moment, spurring on and wrenching out their durable dinghies, first reloading and then stowing away guns and electrical equipment. Below them, the dashing waters cut their way through the canyon, running narrow and fast and not without risk here.
The team inflated their dinghies and Caitlyn and Cruz, Lex and Russo jumped headlong into the crafts as Alicia, Crouch and Healey held them as steady as they were able. Water smashed against the side of the canyon and splashed back into their faces; the low, narrow boats bounced from trough to trough, unguided at first. Alicia gauged their distance from their pursuers as they paused beside the river.
“If they have dinghies they’ll be right at our backs.”
Crouch’s phone rang. With a laugh and a finger aimed toward all the gods of inappropriate timing, he unzipped his pack, unwrapped the phone and put it to his ear.
“Yes! This better be bloody good!”
Alicia tried to guide their dinghy whilst watching the enemy. After a few fruitless minutes she gave the primary task to her boat’s other occupant, Laid Back Lex.
“Keep us away from the friggin’ rocks.”
“Oh thanks, never would have thought of that!”
“Belligerent bastard.”
Alicia felt her heart sink as Coker’s mercenaries broke out rubber dinghies of their own, flinging them easily into the water and jumping aboard. Within a few moments there was a hot pursuit down the Colorado, bullets pinging and whickering through thin air and bouncing off the sides of the canyon.
Crouch’s shout drowned out even the automatic gunfire. “No way! You’ve got to be fucking kidding!”
Alicia again found herself shocked by the man’s outburst. The stresses of this expedition and the weight on his shoulders might be bigger than running the Ninth Division, but still Crouch was not a man partial to nonsensical flare-ups.
The news had to be bleak.
Crouch shouted into the phone, his words lost as a hail of gunfire pounded into the approaching rock wall and Alicia screamed at Lex to adjust their course. Raging waters sprayed and splashed to every side of them. A moment later, Crouch, in the lead boat, turned to shout.
“Our recovery team’s been grounded,” he cried, his words bitter with disbelief. “Sounds like someone in charge was paid off. They’re effectively buried for now with no idea when they’ll be cleared.”
As if in answer, Alicia ducked under another onslaught. Coker’s goons drew closer. Now their flight wasn’t just about staying safe for an hour, it was about returning to save the treasure too.
And they were going the wrong way. Fuck!
“Someone stopping the recovery team isn’t simply about grounding a chopper,” she told Lex quietly. “The authorities were en route too. Military maybe. Who can call off that kind of rescue operation at a moment’s notice?”
“The President?” Lex struggled to keep them away from a midstream rock cluster.
Alicia pouted, taking a face full of water. “You’ve clearly never met him. And shit, I didn’t mean anyone of such importance. I’m thinking more local. I’ve come across my share of corrupt politicians in my time.”
“Shocker.”
“Point taken. Police then. Army. Do they have a mayor of Arizona?”
“How the hell would I know?”
Alicia gave up, knowing Lex wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk and, for now, was probably right not to. She concentrated on shouting directions as Coker’s men heaved closer and the stream quickened, dropping through a series of narrows with white water cascading over the sides at every twist and turn.
The front of their dinghy smashed hard into the left rock wall, rebounding and losing momentum. Alicia staggered. Lex paddled hard to align their course. A bullet skimmed off the surrounding waters, skipping over the waves. Alicia decided enough was enough and returned fire, though the ever moving craft blew even her careful aim to bits. She began to think the best way to score a hit was to bounce a bullet off the damn canyon wall.
Ahead, Crouch let out a warning cry. Alicia gave up the potshots to take a tight grip of the side straps as their dinghy plunged through a set of rapids. With the bows dropping at an alarming angle the team simply held on as their crafts fell and crashed through churning water, their back ends skimming to left and right. Alicia felt them being bounced from rock to rock, fizzing across rapids, controlled by the torrent. With a huge jolt they hit the bottom of the sudden drop and found themselves in calmer waters.
Crouch used the reprieve to bark an order. “A little further up to the right,” he shouted, “is our second potential entry point. We need to use that now as an egress point and get back to that mountain!”
Alicia fired once more as their pursuers hit the rapids, claiming a lucky shot as a bullet ripped apart a plummeting dinghy and spilled out all three of its men. Before she could utter a word their enemy’s first dinghy was upon them and Crouch was shouting about another, worse set of upcoming rapids.
“Time to fight or die,” she told Lex. “And earn my respect, biker boy.”