Free The Death Relic by Chris Kuzneski Page A

and grabbed the phone. He did a double take when he read the caller ID. The name on the screen was a blast from the past. Not Payne’s past. His
own
past. For a moment, it took his breath away, like a sucker punch to the gut. Why in the hell was she calling Payne in the middle of the night? The two of them didn’t talk – or did they? If so, his best friend had been keeping it from him.
    Suddenly his world was filled with doubt.
    Payne searched for his next shot. ‘Who is it?’
    ‘Maria,’ he said softly.
    ‘Who?’
    Jones cleared his throat and spoke louder. ‘Maria.’
    ‘Maria who? I don’t know any Marias.’
    He glared at his friend. ‘Maria Pelati.’
    Payne stopped what he was doing and focused on Jones. From the look in his eyes, it was obvious he wasn’t happy about the call. ‘Really? Why’s she calling me?’
    He continued to glare. ‘I was about to ask you the same thing.’

13
    Angel Ramirez was second-in-command within Hector’s organization. Pronounced ‘AHN-hell’ in Spanish, Angel was phoned a few hours after Hector received the proof-of-life call from the kidnappers. Hector wouldn’t tell him what was going on. He just told him to get his ass to the mansion as soon as possible. He would explain everything when Angel arrived.
    Hector was waiting for him in the library. As he paced back and forth, the look on his face was one of rage. Not anger, but all-out fury. Unaware of the crisis, Angel assumed that he had done something to upset his boss. He racked his brains, trying to remember any mistakes he’d made in the last few days, but he came up empty. Nevertheless, Angel was so concerned about Hector’s wrath that he glanced at the floor to make sure plastic hadn’t been laid down to protect the wood. On more than one occasion, Hector had fired an employee by
literally
firing at him.
    Angel breathed a sigh of relief when he saw floor.
    Still pacing, Hector blurted out, ‘They have my kids.’
    ‘What?’ he said in Spanish.
    ‘They have my fucking kids.’
    ‘Who does?’
    ‘How should I fucking know? If I did, I would get them!’
    Angel shook his head in confusion. His boss wasn’t making sense. ‘Hector, what are you talking about? Someone stole your children?’
    ‘Yes!’ he screamed. ‘They got my kids!’
    ‘When did this happen?’
    Hector paused in thought. For him, the last thirty-six hours had been a long nightmare. At some point, one day had run into the next. ‘Yesterday. While we were sleeping.’
    ‘They took your kids from here?’
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘How did they get in?’
    Hector glared at him. ‘I have no fucking idea! I’m not a detective!’
    He picked up an antique globe and flung it across the room. Solidly constructed from a single piece of metal, the globe struck a series of Aztec masks that were displayed on the far wall. One of the masks was obliterated on impact, and another was damaged when it fell and bounced across the floor. Hector immediately regretted his outburst.
    Other than his kids, those artefacts were his pride and joy.
    Growing up in Mexico City, Hector was fascinated by the history of the Aztecs, an indigenous group that had ruled the region through power and fear. Even as a small boy, when most of his friends were focused on baseball and soccer, he preferred the local museums to the neighbourhood parks. He simply couldn’t get enough of Aztec culture. Eventually, once he reached a point in his life where he had more money than he could possibly spend, he returned to his childhood passion, buying Aztec artefacts by the dozen. The shelves and walls of his library were lined with the relics he had collected in recent years.
    Angel urged him to settle down. ‘Hector, listen to me. I know you’re upset. You have every right to be. I can’t even imagine the terror you’re feeling. But I need you to tell me everything. Not a little. Not a lot. But
everything
. It’s the only way I can help.’
    A few seconds passed before Hector