Chris Kuzneski - The Death Relic

PENGUIN BOOKS

PENGUIN BOOKS

Published by the Penguin Group

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First published 2011

Copyright Chris Kuzneski Inc., 2011

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

ISBN: 978-0-14-194625-2

PENGUIN BOOKS

Chris Kuzneski is the international bestselling author of The Secret Crown, The Prophecy, The Lost Throne, Sword of God, Sign of the Cross and The Plantation. His thrillers have been published in over twenty languages and are sold in more than forty countries. Chris grew up in Pennsylvania and currently lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida. To learn more about Chris, please visit his website: www.chriskuzneski.com.

Present day

Thursday, 9 February.

Mexico City, Mexico

The phone rang in the dead of night. One ring, then a second. He sat up in bed and turned on the light. It rang a third time as he rubbed his eyes and focused on the clock.

It was 2.43 a.m.

Someone was going to pay.

No one was to bother him at this hour. Not his high-priced attorney, his top lieutenants, or anyone else in his organization. In his mind, they simply didnt deserve that kind of access. The only people he truly cared about slept under his roof. Everyone else could fend for themselves especially after midnight.

He was the boss. Those were his rules. No one would dare to break them.

The last person who did was no longer alive.

On the fourth ring, he picked up his BlackBerry, only to discover it wasnt ringing. He stared at the device, trying to make sense of things, wondering if it had been a dream. His question was answered when he heard the fifth ring. Thats when he located the source of the sound. It was coming from his private mobile phone on the dresser. How could that be? Only three people had the number: his wife, his daughter and his son.

He glanced back at his wife, whose naked form was partially concealed in a tangle of sheets. God, she was beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, huge breasts. The perfect trophy wife. Three hours earlier, they had worn each other out. Now she was dead to the world. Except for the rise and fall of her chest, she hadnt moved in minutes. He knew she was capable of some amazing things in bed, but placing a call without a phone wasnt one of them.

That left two possibilities: his daughter or his son.

Suddenly anxious, he climbed out of bed and hustled to his phone. Thanks to technology, he knew it couldnt be a wrong number. He subscribed to a service that required callers to punch in an access code before the call was routed to his phone. The service cost a lot, but it was worth every peso. No solicitors. No crank calls. No one got through except the people he loved.

At least they hadnt until tonight.

It was now 2.44 a.m.

His nightmare was just starting.

He glanced at his phone. The screen said, Daniela Garcia. The call had been placed from his daughters mobile.

He answered the phone. Daniela?

The caller replied in English. His voice, digitally altered to conceal his identity, sounded like something from a horror movie. Is this Hector Garcia?

Yes. Who is this? Where is my daughter?

The voice laughed. I have the bitch. I have your son, too.

No, you dont! You cant! he said defiantly.

Is that so? You want me to call you from your sons phone next?

Hector nearly panicked. He ran his hand through his rumpled hair, imagining the worst. In his business, he had made a lot of enemies the kind who would do anything to get even. Now someone had his children, the most important things in his life.

Or did they?

Hector hit the mute button on his phone and screamed at his wife, Sofia!

She rolled over and whined in Spanish, Im tired. What do you want?

He snatched a book off his dresser and hurled it at her from across the room. It missed her face by a few inches. Wake the fuck up!

Used to his temper, she took the insult in her stride. What is it?

The kids! Check their rooms! Tell me if theyre there.

What? she said, confused.

Someone took my kids! Check their fucking rooms!

She blinked a few times before it sank in, then sprang into action. She snatched her bathrobe off the floor and sprinted towards the door while trying to get dressed. The entire time she was cursing the devil in rapid Spanish.

Hector waited for her to reach the hallway before he hit mute again. In situations like this, he couldnt show weakness. Not to one of his enemies. If he did, the problem would only get worse. Do you know who I am? Do you know what Im capable of?

Of course I do. Thats why this is so much fun. After all these years, youre on the wrong end of a ransom call. I bet youre dying inside, not knowing if your children will make it through the night. Knowing youre not in control of who lives or dies.

Hector growled at him. I swear to God, if you hurt my kids if you so much as lay a finger on either of them I will devote my life to finding you.

The voice laughed at his bravado. Your life? Shouldnt you be more concerned about their lives? Or dont you care if they survive?

He started to pace. Of course I care! Thats all I care about.

Really? Then why havent you asked the question?

What question?

Come on, Hector. You know the question. You hear it all the time.

What are you talking about? he demanded.

Dont play dumb with me! I know all about your organization. I know how you make your money. Over the years, how many times have you placed this call? How many times have you heard the terror that youre feeling now? One hundred? Five hundred? A thousand? During those calls, I guarantee youve heard the same question over and over. Whether the families were rich or poor, I guarantee they asked you the same fucking question. And yet for some reason, youre refusing to ask it. Is it ego? Is it denial? Is it hubris?