Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) by Nathan Hystad (ereader iphone .TXT) 📕

of the catacombs, and we lowered another two flights of stairs, crossing under a bridge overhead before the path ended. Marcus’ knife wound appeared to be superficial, and we tore a piece of Tripp’s shirt off, tying it around his forearm.

“Is this a joke? Another deceit?” Tripp asked her, the gun ever-present in his grip.

“No. The corridors have secret passageways,” she said, appearing to vanish. As I advanced closer, I saw the illusion for what it was. The wall looked the same as the opening, and we entered another hall. This one was colder yet, with water streaming from the ceiling. I thought about the street we’d been at in the early hours of this day, with the constant rainfall. This would be directly below that location, but perhaps a few stories under.

There were no skeletons here, just mud and slippery rocks and rats. I wondered what Luis had thought as he strode these hallways thirty-something years ago, trying to hide one of the Tokens. Had he seen my father using the Bridge? Was that why he was so adamant on burying them?

“Juliette, you were never here. Got it?” I asked.

She glanced at Tripp, and then to the gun.

“Lots of places to hide a body, pal. We don’t have to let her go,” Tripp said, and I hoped he was only trying to scare the woman.

“I won’t tell anyone. I have no reason to.”

“You might want to rethink your choices in friends. And maybe select a new career path,” Veronica said. The other woman had already run off with the second half of her payment, and I decided this scammer might consider it hush money.

“Take the cash and leave,” I ordered her.

She didn’t need to be told twice, and I watched her dart through the doorway, hearing her shoes rush across the stone floor.

“Marcus, you’re tracking our path?” I asked, and my sidekick nodded as he pulled out his phone with his uninjured arm.

“Got it here. We’re good to escape.”

“That just leaves the reason for this whole mess.” Tripp shoved the gun into his belt, and we proceeded forward.

“I’m impressed,” I told him.

“What? Back there? It was nothing.”

“If you say so.” I peered to the walls, then the ceiling, searching for any markings.

And there it was. A jaguar claw, like the symbols under the causeway at El Mirador. It was carved into the bumpy partition, pieces of dark stone chipped away to form the emblem. Water dripped over it, and I followed the flow, finding it creeping behind a stack of skull-sized stones. “Give me a hand with these.”

Marcus bent over and, despite the cut, used both hands as we attempted to relocate the pile, which appeared to be supporting the wall. Structurally, I doubted it was, and imagined Luis here, rolling the stones into a neat line, then placing more on top. It looked purposeful.

With all four of us on the case, the removal was quick, and soon the dirty sack’s corner stuck up from the mud. Without a second thought, I dug with my bare hands, freeing the bag. I grinned at the others, Tripp’s flashlight illuminating the sack as it spun in my grip. I passed it to Veronica, and with a flick of my blade, I cut the bottom out, letting the Token fall into my palm: a half moon over a spoon shape.

“Let’s leave,” Veronica whispered.

They exited the room, and I waited, using a rock to bash the etching Luis had carved from existence. When the claw was gone, I grabbed the flashlight on the floor and splashed after my team.

The third Token was in my pocket.

9

Two more days. Time was strange when you traveled around the world in such a short period. I struggled to remember what day of the week it was as I stared at the vast ocean from the window. Hunter had a property in Malibu, but he didn’t dare use it.

“And why can’t we hide at your mansion?” Marcus asked him.

“Because they’re watching it. Waiting for us to screw up,” Hunter said. He was clearly exhausted after the last week or so, and I wondered how he was coping.

Francois, his serving man, stepped into the room, holding a cell phone. “Sir, the doctor is here.”

“Yes. Yes. Let him in. Do you mind if I have some privacy?” Hunter pointed to the living room’s exit.

This might not have been his mansion, but it was a large rental with five bedrooms and an infinity pool, complete with a theater room and games area. Marcus was the first to stand, and I glanced at the bandage on his arm. It was healing up nicely, and I’d already apologized for my part in the injury.

I hadn’t seen Veronica yet today, but there she was, outside on the deck, lying in the sun. While this was cold for most of the locals, it was far warmer than we were used to, and she soaked up the rays, wearing a tank top and tights.

“I should be the one to get the Token,” Tripp muttered, leaning against the glass railing to stare at the splashing waves.

“You have the grace of a black bear,” Veronica said without opening her eyes. “Old Rexy can really ham it up when he needs to, can’t you? Harvard-educated.”

“You don’t live in Boston and mingle with the stiffs Rex does without picking up a few things,” Marcus said with a laugh.

“I’ll be watching,” Tripp finally said.

The wind picked up, and water sprayed my face as I made my way beside the ex-SEAL. “You can sound really creepy, you know that?”

“Keep it together, Rex. Tonight is important. It’s not like barreling into the stone forest or smashing an icicle. This is covert business, and you can’t break character for a moment.” Tripp was tense about something, but I didn’t know what.

“Why are you suddenly so invested in this trip?” I glanced at the living room to find Francois gazing at me. He closed the blinds with a snap, but not before I