Yeah, he could see it. A gunboat had entered the mouth of the Tambo River and was cruising along the far shore, about a hundred yards downstream and headed his way.
Creed took out his binoculars and keyed his radio.
“Cartel cowboys in an RPB,” he said when he heard Dylan’s beep, letting him know it was a river patrol boat. “Twenty or so, well armed. One woman, Asian, a gringo in a fedora-yeah, you heard me right-and sonuvabitch.”
“Continue,” Dylan ordered.
“I-” Creed stopped the transmission, looked harder at the boat crew. He didn’t want to make any mistakes, but hell no, it wasn’t a mistake. He keyed his radio again. “I found Waldo.”
“Again.” The order came back at him.
“Killian. He’s on the boat.”
Creed didn’t actually hear Dylan cussing, but he knew exactly what couple of words were coming out of the boss’s mouth.
In their business, surprises sucked. On the other hand, it was good to have a friend in the enemy camp. Creed had worked with Dax on the streets of Denver, stealing cars, and once in Afghanistan three years ago, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind whose side the man was on. Suzi’s for sure-and he had to wonder, really, when did the art game get so damn dangerous?
He keyed his radio again. “Maybe it’s time to make a trade.”
“Roger. I want you and Zach back at your OP. If Farrel wants his girl back, he’ll deal with us before the boat party arrives.”
“Roger.”
Suzi gently turned the Sphinx on its side and looked for any marks on the bottom of the statue. There were a couple of scratches in the granite, and she duly notated them in the notebook Con had given her. Sure, he’d said she could have the ancient artifact, a mind-boggling idea, but she was a long way from home, and a lot of other people wanted this thing. Quite frankly, she wouldn’t have put five bucks on the chance of her being the one to get it out of Paraguay.
Not that she wasn’t going to give it her best shot.
Conroy Farrel was pacing. He was very quiet about it, walking from one door to the next, looking outside. Looking for the girl, Scout? Suzi wondered. She hadn’t seen her since last night.
“There’s a scanner in my fanny pack,” she said. He had it clipped through a couple of belt loops on his BDU pants. “May I have it?”
He didn’t hesitate to pull it out, look it over, then walk over and hand it to her.
She wished he’d give her the whole damn fanny pack, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath on that. Her phone had rung three times, and each time he’d answered it and given a set of directions. Nothing more.
Somebody was coming, Erich Warner at the least-and Suzi couldn’t imagine that was going to be good for her.
She picked up the scanner and let out a short breath. If nothing else, she would at least know if the damn thing worked, and if it did, Dax’s farfetched theory about the Faraday cages in Beranger’s basement would be true. She hoped to hell she got a chance to tell him.
Without further ado, she turned the scanner on, and it lit up, clear as day. So simple, and after a moment it beeped in the completion of the GPS locator function, and that was that.
Well. Somehow she felt better, like she’d done her job-found the damn thing and locked in its location.
Great.
She was sure there would be a bonus in there somewhere, if she could just get out of this damn country alive.
She set the scanner aside and went back to cataloguing every little thing there was to catalogue about the great Maned Sphinx of Sesostris III, a.k.a. the Memphis Sphinx. Howard Carter himself had discovered this thing. He’d held it in his hands. He’d drawn it-and Suzi could feel it all, the depth of the statue’s history, the power of the legend. In Grant’s office, she’d scoffed at the idea of the Sphinx having occult powers, but holding it in her hands was enough to make a believer out of her-almost.
The gold mane framed a regally serene face and draped down onto the black granite shoulders of a lion. The rock-crystal eyes were small and elegant, set into the granite eye sockets like a pair of stars, no bigger than the irises would have been. The thing was beautiful, the lion’s paws placed firmly and squarely on the statue’s base, the beast’s tail curled precisely around its body, the animal emanating an innate power, an unexpected suppleness of form. It was an amazing piece of art, the golden mane luminous, the crystal eyes catching the sunlight-a magnificent sphinx.
The moment held her, and she placed both her hands on the statue, one on each side of the lion body. It was truly beautiful, conceived and created on the banks of the Nile four thousand years ago. The granite was warm against her palms, with a luster that caught the light. It wasn’t pure black; there were flecks of gold and gray in the stone, which made it seem to shimmer.
Magical, indeed.
And for the moment, hers.
People had killed for this statue, possibly hundreds of times over the centuries, and suddenly what had seemed so abhorrent before made sense. This black and gold beast with the cut-crystal eyes was worthy of blood, of sacrifice.
She slid it a few inches across the table, into a stream of sunlight, and the crystalline eyes lit themselves from deep within.
Ahhh, she thought. This is it. And when this happens in moonlight, the power of the creature is unleashed. The doors of time will open, either to give or to take-but the power is there, lying latent and heavy in the rock.
With the sunlight catching on every facet of crystal, she reached for the left eye and slowly twisted and pulled, and hoped beyond hope that the piece would release and fall into her hand. She wanted to see inside, to touch a place of ancientness.
This Sphinx was made for Sesostris III, King of Egypt and the Nile, two thousand years before the birth of Christ.
So clearly, she heard the voice of history, of pain, and loss, of being buried in the crypt, of crying out to be released.
Released.
The rod of crystal pulled free, and Suzi’s pulse began to race. She couldn’t pull her gaze away from the dark abyss of the empty eye socket. She leaned closer, her heart in her throat-so dark, like the far reaches of coldest space. Her breath vaporized along the surface of the supremely serene, one-eyed Sphinx.
Impossible.
But she exhaled again-and again the coldness of the statue turned her breath to visible vapor.
She tilted her head slightly to one side, peering deeper into the empty socket. The stone was shot through with gold and gray flecks-and as she looked, noticing each cluster of flecks in the dark night of the eye socket…they seemed to move… in orbits. She blinked and leaned in closer, curious, enchanted… enthralled by the-
“No, Suzi. That’s not for you.” Con grasped the Sphinx by its head, covering the empty socket, and with his other hand, he relieved her of the crystalline eye and set it back into place.
She blinked, feeling a cold shiver trickle down her spine.
Oh, my.
Her phone rang again, and she turned to look at Con. He had the Sphinx in one of his large hands and her phone in the other.
“Go,” he said when he answered.
He listened for a moment, and as he listened, she watched his face turn very grim.
“Dylan Hart. I won’t forget.”
Good Lord, Dylan. The relief flooding through her was palpable. Dylan would be able to find her.
“How many?” Con asked.
She thought about calling something out, but all she could think was-
“Costa del Rey!” she hollered as loudly as she could.
“No,” Con said into the phone, giving her a very cold look.
It shut her up. She’d gotten her point across.
“If you hurt her in any way, I’ll hunt you down, Hart. You bring her back to me, the Toussi woman is yours. If not, you can pick up the pieces when I’m gone.”
And Conroy Farrel had most definitely gotten his point across.
Geezus. Dylan and Hawkins had snatched the girl. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t outrun Con, and she couldn’t outgun him, but there had to be a way.