Pandora's Temple Read Online Free Page A

meaning it this time.
    Morales’s eyes returned to the briefcase. A woman clad in a tight satin dress laid a heaping plate she had filled from the lunch tables down before him. Another woman who might have been her twin refilled his glass of sangria, making sure just the right amount of floating fruit spilled in. Their moves looked robotic, rehearsed. And the fact that they remained cool amid the scalding heat made them appear like department store mannequins devoid of anything but beauty.
    “You have brought your deposit?” Morales asked.
    “In exchange for the first shipment to be delivered within the week. That was the deal. A fair exchange.”
    “Then let me see it,” Morales said, again angling his gaze for the briefcase cuffed to Sal Belamo’s wrist. “Of course, I could always have one of my men cut your man’s hand off.”
    “But that would leave him with only one,” McCracken noted, unruffled. “And then I’d have to take one of yours in return. Also a fair exchange.”
    Morales grinned broadly, his threat left hanging. “You are good at math, señor.”
    “Just as you are with women.”
    The grin vanished.
    “Sal,” McCracken signaled.
    At that, Belamo pried a small key from his shoe and unlocked the handcuffs from both his wrist and the briefcase. Then he handed the case to Morales who laid it in his lap and eagerly flipped the catches, slowly raising the lid. His breathing quieted, his eyes widened.
    “Is this some kind of joke?” Morales asked, clearly dismayed as he spun the open briefcase around to reveal nothing inside but two pistols, a sleek semiautomatic and a long-barreled Magnum revolver.
    “Those are very valuable guns, señor,” McCracken said, as Morales’s personal Zeta guards steadied their weapons upon him. “Men have perished under their fire, many with prices on their heads. You’re welcome to the rewards in exchange for the hostages.”
    “Who are you?” Morales asked, tossing the briefcase to the veranda floor as he rose again.
    “I’m the man doing you a big favor, Morales. Someday you’ll thank me for showing you kidnapping doesn’t pay, at least not when you’re bringing in as much as you are from your drug business. Here,” he said, handing Morales a ruffled piece of paper.
    Morales straightened, trying to make sense of the number and letter combinations. “What is this?”
    “The latitude and longitude marks denoting the locations of your largest storage facilities. If I don’t leave with the hostages, all four go boom.”
    Morales smiled, chuckled, then outright laughed. “You are threatening me ? You are really threatening me? Here in my home , in front of my men ?” His voice gained volume with each syllable. He seemed to be enjoying himself; the challenge, the threat.
    “I’m going to let you keep your drugs, against my better judgment, but the four Americans, the college students, leave with me.”
    At first it seemed Morales didn’t know how to respond. But then he threw his head back and laughed heartily again, both the women and his guards joining in for good measure. Only his wife, Elena, stayed quiet, too busy swiping the tears of pain from her face.
    “Just like that?” Morales said, the veranda’s other occupants stopping their laughter as soon as he stopped his.
    “Yup, just like that.”
    “And what do I get in return for accepting your gracious offer?”
    “You get to stay in business.” McCracken tapped his watch for Morales to see. “But the clock’s ticking.”
    “Is it?”
    “You have one minute.”
    Morales started to laugh again but stopped. The two women nuzzled against him on either side in spite of his wife’s presence, his private guards slapping each other on the back.
    “I have one minute!” he roared, laughing so hard now his face turned scarlet and he wheezed trying to find his breath.
    “Forty-five seconds now.”
    Morales jabbed a finger at the air McCracken’s way. “I like you, amigo. You’re a real