We loaded up for the third site, where the owner waited for us at the locked gate off the road. Santiago waved us through, then closed up and walked to his Jeep. He led us a few miles into the jungle, stopping in a small clearing. Linda got out and started filming as he greeted us. “The Cenote is down this trail,” he said. “I’m too old for it, but you kids have fun.”
We geared up as Juan gave us the brief. “This Cenote is a pit-type, with sheer walls and almost a hundred feet deep,” he said. “There is a layer of hydrogen sulfide at sixty feet that looks like fog. You can go beneath it, but you’ll be out of sight, so don’t do it alone.” Hydrogen sulfide was a poisonous gas produced by rotting organics, and the layer meant there was no current to disturb it. Juan went over the dive plan and safety stops; we would have only a few minutes below the layer. We left our security and Santiago at a picnic table by the rocks that formed the edge. It was a four-foot drop into the water, and a rope was hanging down to pull yourself out later. This time, we were all staying together. We jumped off the rock into the cold water, stopping at the first safety stop at ten feet to do buddy checks.
The narrow opening to the pit meant natural light wasn’t as plentiful, and that sunlight broke up in the jungle canopy. The net effect was to have narrow beams of light that penetrated the clear waters to the bottom. Combined with the crystal clear water, it would look great on television.
There weren’t the cave formations or fish like the previous dives, but the water was crystal clear. The natural light was so striking that Linda didn’t use artificial lights to brighten it up. The walls opened up into a slightly larger canyon as we descended, and Linda took lots of photos looking back up at us as we followed the walls down.
As we got closer to the milky fog of the hydrogen sulfide layer, we started to see the remains of trees sticking up through it. They must have fallen in when the sinkhole collapsed, and now they were spooky black skeletons poking up through the mist. We stopped at fifty feet, spending a few minutes exploring the cave just above the swirling fog.
Linda dove below it with Juan, signaling for us to wait one minute. When we couldn’t see them anymore, we counted until it was time, then the four of us dove through the layer as Fiona and Carly filmed from above. The layer wasn’t as thick as I thought, and I could see Linda’s camera lights as I swam down. Under the layer were more trees and clear water, and we clicked our lights on to explore. After five minutes, it was time to go back up. This time, we emerged like ghouls from Hell through the mist as my security team filmed.
We made our safety stops on the way up, finally emerging near the entry rocks. Juan exited first, then collected the camera equipment, tanks, and fins, stacking them by the rocks. Once he did that, we each grabbed the rope so he could pull us out of the water. Soon, only Linda was left, as she took a few more shots of the scenery from the base of the rocks. We were all smiling like fools; this had been a great day of diving. I needed to come back here again.
It was Fiona who reacted first and linked me. “Something is wrong. Our police aren’t here. Santiago’s bag is at the picnic table, and he isn’t.”
We all quieted at her warning and took a sniff; a breeze came through, bringing with it the scent of blood. “Stay here, something is wrong,” Fiona told us. She grabbed a pistol out of her bag as I reached for the knife strapped to my calf.
“I wouldn’t do that,” a man’s voice said. Looking up, three men carrying AK-47’s, their heads covered so I could only see their eyes, stepped out from behind the trees above us. “Toss the knives and guns in the water, and put your hands on your heads.”
I looked around, seeing more men with guns. Where the hell were the police? “I don’t see a good option,” I sent. “Do it,” I said. I tossed my knife behind me, the splash joining the others. I was glad Linda hadn’t said anything. Hopefully, she was hiding, and they wouldn’t notice she was missing from our group. “Don’t say anything about Linda, and don’t look back. If they don’t take her, she can get help.”
A shot rang out, and I looked in horror as Juan’s chest exploded in red. He fell back into the water, dead before he sank out of sight. “WHY? He didn’t DO anything?”
“Our orders were to bring the women. Walk up here single file and into the van. If you resist, you die.” Keeping our hands on our heads, we walked up towards the gunmen.
“The hidden faces are a good sign. It means they want to ransom us, not kill us,” Fiona said.
Santiago’s body was in the trees along the trail, one bullet in the forehead. He was a nice man who didn’t deserve to die. Reaching the parking area, I could see the police vehicle was gone. “I don’t know if they were scared off or on the take,” I said.
“Either way, they are dead men,” Fiona promised.
Our hands were zip-tied behind our backs. One of the gunmen held the door open to a beat-up panel van, while two newer SUVs parked in front of ours. The back was hot and bare, a cage separating us from the driver and armed guard. We sat on the floor as the door slammed shut, and the van lurched forward towards our uncertain future.
******
Linda’s POV
This cenote had been truly epic. The cinematography of the girls slowly emerging from the misty depths was a highlight of my directing career, and I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and start editing.
I stayed back as the others exited the water, getting a few shots from just above and below the waterline. The clear water and high sun through the trees illuminated the sinkhole walls, setting light and shadow in clear contrast. I had my camera in the water, breathing through my snorkel when I heard Fiona’s warning. “Stay here. Something is wrong.”
I hugged the underside of the boulder we were using to exit the cenote, making sure nothing metal banged against it. I was out of sight unless you walked to the edge of the boulder and looked down.
“I wouldn’t do that.” I didn’t recognize the voice, and as a mermaid, I wasn’t in on their werewolf mind link. “Toss the knives and guns in the water, and put your hands on your heads.”
Shit. Where the fuck were the cops we hired? I should have known better and hired some mercenaries; they were more reliable than the police around here. “Do it,” I heard Vicki say. I stayed quiet as knives hit the water near me, sinking quickly towards the depths. There was a louder sound as the gun skittered across the rock before dropping to the water, almost hitting me. I grabbed the barrel just before it sank, tucking it into my belt. I kept the camera rolling, thankful that the shell necklaces they all wore contained hidden microphones.
I jumped as a shot rang out, followed quickly by a body hitting the water next to me. I could see Juan’s face as his lungs filled with water, and he started to sink. With his tanks off and a weight belt, he’d go right to the bottom. The girls screamed, and Vicki’s voice rang out. “WHY? He didn’t DO anything?”
“Our orders were to bring the women. Walk up here single file and into the van. If you resist, you die.”
I waited as I listened to them walking away from me, back up the hill towards our cars. I waited until I hear them being ordered into the van before I slipped my tank and fins off, stashing them in a crevice. I grabbed the rope and pulled myself up to where I could peek over the edge. The GoPro on my right wrist was recording; I didn’t see anyone, so I climbed out as quietly as possible. Our clothes were still where we left them on the rocks, with our phones smashed to bits next to them. I doffed my wetsuit and put on shoes before picking up the pistol again and moving towards the trail.
I saw Santiago’s body, cursing myself once again as I tried to get closer without being seen. I caught a glimpse of the girls just before the cargo van door was closed. I hid behind a tree, using the camera to record the license plate numbers of the two older SUVs and the van. I had no chance to stop them; there were six men, all armed with rifles, and I was one woman with a pistol. I watched them drive away, thankful they hadn’t burned or disabled our vehicles.
I had to call for help, but my phone was dead. I ran over to verify my laptop was still locked in our car; the kidnappers hadn’t disabled or stolen it, only taking the women. I thought about the implications of this as I turned back; they weren’t worried about being followed, or that our gear would provide clues for the Mexican Police. I ran back down the trail, gathering up the clothes and dive masks on the ground. Fiona’s pocket had our keys in it, so I put those in my cargo shorts before carrying all I could back up the trail. I opened the doors, tossing the bags in the back, and dug out my laptop. It had its own cellular data connection.
Getting in the driver’s seat, I fired up the rental SUV as I opened my laptop on the console next to me. I drove back towards the road carefully, making sure I didn’t get spotted. My computer booted up, and I used a voice command to tell it to video call the person who could call out the cavalry. “Linda? What’s going on?”
“Kidnappers took Vick, Amy, the twins and their security about seven minutes ago,” I told a startled Luna Adrienne. “Fucking Mexican police squad we hired for extra security took off. Six men were wearing black hoods and jungle camouflaged uniforms, armed with AK-47’s and AR-15’s. Three vehicles, two silver Jeep SUVs, and one older white panel van. I got some video, but I don’t know if I got plates. The property owner and our scuba guide are dead.”
“Are you all right?” I could see the door to her office opening and people coming in.
“I hid in the water, and they never saw me,” I said. I quickly told Vicki’s aunt everything I’d done and seen. I reached the gate by the road; when the kidnappers left, they put the chain back up. I stopped behind it. “SHIT. They are on the main road. Just a minute.” I got out of the SUV, taking down the chain before looking at the tracks. Jumping back into the car, I moved the laptop, so I was on camera again. “They headed south from my location.”
I gave her what I could, the address of the land, and everything I remembered. That’s when it hit me. “The microphones,” I said with a grin. “I bought them from the same supplier who does Survivor and other reality shows. They have a GPS transmitter in them; it sends a signal to a satellite every fifteen minutes as long as the microphones are on.” I pulled up the program, sending the address and password to Adrienne as I logged on. “I’ve got them,” I said with a smile. “All four together, heading towards Nuevo Durango on 109. I’ll call the cops.”
“No,” Adrienne said. “There were cops in on this, and we don’t know how high the corruption reaches. We don’t want them to find out we can track the girls. We’ll send a team to retrieve them.” I could see people in the background talking on phones; I had a feeling there would be a big flight of warriors coming down from Minnesota on vacation.
“What should I do?”
Adrienne thought for a minute. “Call the police. Tell them about the kidnapping and murders, but don’t let on you saw anyone or anything. Two people are dead, and we can’t hide that.”
“All right. What about the video I shot?”
“Send the files to me. Take anything that shows the kidnapping or after and hide the memory cards. Once that is done, call the cops, then the American consulate.”