
THE MAYAN PRIEST
by
Sue Guillou
This Edition Published 2011. Copyright Sue Guillou 2011.
The Right of Sue Guillou to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted in accordance with the Coyright,Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means other than what was intended
without permission of the author
ISBN: 978-1-921642-69-2
Gillian frowned as she sprayed insect repellent on her tanned torso and cursed loudly when another fat, blood filled mosquito landed on her cheek. She wiped her face and looked about, noting that the streets of Guatemala were exactly as she expected. It was hot, sticky and overrun with residents competing for a meagre income from the tourist trade. She grabbed hold of Fred, eager to avoid the crush of the crowd as they hurried to the waiting van driven by an old white-haired guide.
As they were the only passengers that morning, Gillian sat behind the driver, next to her fiancé, and reached for his hand. He did not return her affection, so she looked at him in confusion.
Fred was an attractive man, pretty almost, with his thick black hair, piercing blue eyes, chiselled chin and lithe, well-muscled body from years at the gym. She had first thought he was shallow, too focussed on his body image and how the public viewed him to be worth a second thought, but her opinion changed dramatically when she witnessed him in a pair of shorts. He had two large scars running vertically from his knee to his ankle, caused by a motorcycle accident that nearly took his life. The doctors had informed him that only extensive physiotherapy and muscle building exercises would restore full use to his legs, hence the hours at the gym.
Gillian felt particularly small for misjudging him, and their relationship had developed from their unified love and dedication to archaeology. Unfortunately they were equally articulate, determined and very competitive, leading her to understand that he considered this dig to be another contest. She was annoyed and dropped his hand, fearing that her father's dislike for Fred had some weight to it. He did not like Fred and openly voiced his opinion at every available opportunity, much to her vexation.
This was something she had to fix, but how? She did not know.
Gillian subconsciously moved away from Fred, wiped her auburn hair from her eyes and mopped the sweat from her brow. Fred looked equally uncomfortable in the humid climate and she knew he would have much preferred the dry atmosphere of Egypt, but the discovery of a vault on the outskirts of Tikal was too much to resist.
The call had come three days ago from her friend and mentor Professor Richard Deinhart, a kindly sixty-one year old archaeologist with medium length grey hair, a full moustache, beard and mischievous grey eyes. He had been nicknamed 'Santa' by his six year old granddaughter Eva, but his wicked sense of humour and enjoyment of practical jokes far removed him from the Christmas icon. He had been her history lecturer during her studies at the University of Houston, Texas, and was a staunch advocate of and advisor on the board of the Archaeological Institute of America. He was well loved and respected by all who knew him.
'Jilly ... something has come my way which I know you won't be able to resist. It's just your thing,' his voiced boomed down the phone line.
'Well ... don't keep me in suspense, Professor,' laughed Gillian, the professor's strong but cheerful voice bringing memories of times she spent poring over books with him. It had been two years since they had caught up and she missed his company.
'A colleague of mine has spent the last few weeks excavating on the outskirts of Tikal and they have come across a vault ... not unusual in itself, but the hieroglyphics indicate it belongs to someone of importance which is odd considering it's located in the midst of the farmers' precinct. I thought you might like to take a look.'
'Wow ... you really know the way to a girl's heart,' teased Gillian as she heard the professor chuff in amusement.
'It's been a while, but I still know you well, Jilly,' referring to her passion for the ancient american cultures.
'So, when and where?'
'I have arranged for my good friend Mitchell Coates to accompany us. If you remember, he's an expert on hieroglyphics.'
'Us ... who's coming?' queried Gillian, recalling Mitchell Coates with a smile. He was a small man, determined and set in his ways with an ageing body that defied nature. He could outrun and outwork anyone half his age, including Fred. He was Richard's best and most loyal friend.
'You didn't think I'd miss out on this adventure, did you? I'll meet you on Friday,' he paused before continuing, 'bring Fred if you want,' he added as an afterthought before hanging up the phone with a loud clunk.
'Are you all right? It's not like you to miss the scenery,' nudged Fred as the small van hit a bump, forcing her sideways into Fred's arm.
'I was thinking about Professor Deinhart. I'm looking forward to seeing him,' mused Gillian as their driver unexpectedly sped up, racing towards a raucous crowd of native Americans blocking the road less than six hundred feet in front of them.
'Hold on!' he yelled, his accent thick and emotionless as he gave the old vehicle as much stick as it could manage. It responded faithfully, lurching forward and pelting directly into the crowd, much to Gillian's dismay.
'What are you doing?! You'll hit them!' she yelled.
'They want your money. If we stop now they will most likely rape and murder you,' responded the elderly man as the van picked up momentum on the downward slope. It was almost as if the crowd refused to believe that they would lose their booty waiting until the last second before moving aside. Gillian felt stupid and naïve. The native Americans were well-practised in the art of deception and if Fred had not insisted on using a guide, they could have been killed.
As they neared Tikal, Gillian cursed her decision to drive from Aurora Airport to Tikal via Flores. It took six hours longer then if they had flown, and she feared that Richard had started without them. Normally calm and collected, she was now in a minor state of panic. Her life revolved around timeliness, imposed by her father, and she was stressed when she was late.
'We're there,' tapped Fred as she looked up and found herself staring directly at the Temple IV, which at two hundred and twenty-five feet high towered over the adjacent treetops. Gillian gladly stretched her legs and paid the bus driver a small tip before disembarking and proceeding with enthusiasm to the ruins.
Tikal was an enigmatic place overwhelmed by an invasive, fast growing forest that added to its mystery. Indeed it looked like something from a fairytale, with the lichen covered buildings, vast green plateaus and lofty canopies that threatened to engulf the city like a spider on its prey. Gillian shivered. The city was beautiful with its monumental pyramids, ancient palaces and numerous outbuildings, but Gillian knew that they had barely scratched the surface of the treasures this metropolis offered. At one time, approximately 500 AD, Tikal spanned some eight miles and was home to 200 000 people and almost 300 000 buildings of which only a fraction had been uncovered to date. She also found it eerie to be standing on ground that was once a bustling hub of activity. Thousands of men, women and children had walked on this very soil, undertaking their daily duties, and here she was, many lifetimes later standing in the same spot. The feeling was akin to wandering through a long abandoned graveyard, the experience causing shivers to run up her spine.
She allowed herself the luxury of a moment to imagine the colour of Tikal in its heyday. The bright Mayan costumes, the clean fresh limestone buildings towering into the hot sunny sky, the highly decorated palaces no doubt covered in jade and obsidian, fancy corbelled arches wrapped in hieroglyphics and engravings and highly painted iconology probably in the colours of their compass -- white (north), red (east) yellow (south) and black (west) and green for the centre of the earth.
Gillian smiled to herself in delight, her reverie broken by the screeches of the howler monkeys and a familiar looking figure walking towards her -- Professor Richard Deinhart
'Professor!' she cried unashamedly as she raced towards her friend and jumped into his arms.
'You haven't changed much,' said Richard, his Irish accent thick with joy as he gave Gillian a peck on the cheek. Richard was born and raised in Ireland until the age of fifteen when his parents immigrated to America. He had been an American citizen for forty-three years, but he still carried his heritage with pride.
'I know, but I do have a new appendage,' she teased, referring to Fred who scowled at her attempt at good humour.
'I've heard. Nice to meet you, Fred,' said Richard, offering his hand in greeting.
Gillian noticed the two men sizing each other up. Fred had a smile of 'you might know a lot, but you're old' and Richard's eyes reflected 'ah, another young whippersnapper who wants to be like me'. Gillian grinned.
'So, where from here, Professor?'
'We're headed about 300 feet past what is known as "the Plaza of the Lost World". It is one of the earliest occupied sites at Tikal, having been built somewhere during the Middle Pre-Classic period around 500 BC. My young friend has discovered the ruins of a farmer's building,' said Richard as they made their way down the Miler Causeway, through the Great Plaza and Central Acropolis before heading past Temple V built around 750 AD.
'What's strange about that? I'm sure there are thousands of them,' mocked Fred, pausing to take a couple of photos of the ancient buildings on their way past.
'Most common buildings were made of wooden poles, thatch and limestone slabs, but this one is entirely of limestone in the shape of a pentagon. It is most unusual, something so unique that we took the trouble to excavate the inner courtyard,' replied Richard, ignoring Fred's comments.
Gillian took Fred's hand and squeezed it gently. She knew Fred was feeling uncomfortable in Richard's company. The professor had a manner about him that reeked of intelligence and this threatened Fred. Fred squeezed back and smiled at her.
'Can you imagine our surprise when we discovered a slab in the courtyard, most unusual considering courtyards are usually dirt, but then when we removed part of that slab, we found another one underneath, identical and built at the same time. Someone had obviously taken great pains to carry out concealment. Mitchell found this imbedded in the very centre of the base foundation,' said Richard as he opened his palm to reveal a pentagonal shaped tile about the size of a fifty cent piece with a logogram engraved in the centre.
'I know that symbol. It stands for "holy",' said Fred excitedly.
'Yes ... usually representing a holy place or person, so I wonder what it was doing in the middle of a commoner's home,' mused Gillian as she viewed the ancient tile with much thought.
'That's why I've asked you to join us. When we removed this small tile, a greater tablet was found behind it. The tablet was sitting above a large stone block, which we have shifted, albeit with great difficulty. It has revealed a set of stairs leading almost vertically underground. We are yet to venture into the unknown, keen to ensure that we have correctly deciphered the tablet first,' said Richard.
With that Gillian laughed aloud, unable to contain her amusement. 'Don't tell me that you have waited for me to decipher the hieroglyphics for you. You are the professor -- my professor. The person who taught me what I know. Why ask me?'
'Because you have far exceeded my own miserly skills, my dear. Even I know that,' replied Richard with a chuckle as Fred just looked on, a nonchalant gaze flickering across his eyes.
'Come on, let me introduce you to the team,' grinned Richard as he marched them pass the Plaza of the Seven Temples which dated back to the Pre-Classic period and contained three ball game areas and the unexcavated Southern Acropolis.
They veered left and headed out beyond the Lost World Pyramid and into the dense jungle surrounding the outskirts of the city centre, coming quickly to a roped area which they proceeded to climb under. The farmer's home was virtually indistinguishable, having been concealed by 1500 years of dirt, vines and other unidentifiable vegetation. The limestone walls were barely standing and no roof remained. Still, Gillian could see that this house had been built with care and she found it strange that it was situated just behind the Lost World Pyramid, which had been used for rituals although this would be in keeping if it was the home of a priest or holy man.
They passed through the remains of an arch which were engraved with examples of long-count (Mayan dates) and large drawings of Kinich Ahau (sun god), Ix Chel (moon god) and Chac (rain god) and into a partially excavated courtyard that was approximately thirty feet across from the widest points. It was a large space that would have boasted a well-tended exotic garden in its prime but was currently no more than large mounds of dirt. This saddened Gillian who always felt a sense of loss when uncovering civilisations that had succumbed to the ravages of time, but perhaps this was part of the appeal, exposing the mysteries of past lives and learning from them.
'This is my young friend Redmond Paisley who discovered the disk,' introduced Richard as a slight young man with wide, enthusiastic eyes quickly wiped his dirt covered hand on his shirt before offering a greeting to Gillian. She could barely conceal a grin; the name 'Paisley' suited his outrageously bright clothes and spotted bandana to a tee. She liked him immediately.
And these are my other partners in crime, both of whom you know,' said Richard as he led her to the centre of the courtyard where Mitchell Coates and Richard's long-time partner Julia Charters were digging. Julia was a few years younger than Richard and was the love of his life. Together they had travelled the world, sharing their passion for life and the adventures it offered. Where Gillian would have declined, Julia took up every challenge from sky and scuba diving, abseiling and long treks. She was also a strong, confident businesswoman who frequently donated her time to those less fortunate. Gillian gave Julia a kiss on the cheek. Mitchell did likewise, much to Fred's annoyance, evident by the scowl on his face.
'And last but not least is Samuel Thomas a last-minute inclusion from the Mexican government. He is representing their interests,' said Richard, the slight lowering of his eye and barbed tone of voice speaking volumes to Gillian. He disliked the six foot five, olive skinned man immensely and she could see why. He looked powerful and lean with black flashing eyes, buffed skin and pearl white teeth. His nails were far too neat and clean to be an archaeologist's and he sported a missing ear, partially concealed by his long wavy hair. He had a well-groomed façade, but Gillian somehow guessed that it was just that ... a façade. She suspected his nature was not as unsoiled as he appeared. Even Fred took a step back and went to join Mitchell in removing the last of the dirt that had caved in over the stairs they had uncovered.
'So, what do you think, Jilly?' asked Richard.
'Well ... for one thing, the dates in long count on the entrance archway indicate that this home was built somewhere around 520 AD. That puts it well before any of the more infamous temples such as the Temple of the Great Jaguar erected as a tomb for 'Hasaw Chan Kawil' about 700 AD. I would imagine that it belongs to a priest or shaman although I think priest is more likely,' she responded.
'Perhaps this hole is a chultune used to store the food and precious objects of their owners,' suggested Fred as he knelt down and examined the stone blocks they had removed to gain access to the stairs.
'I don't think so,' replied Gillian. 'These blocks are covered in engravings of Itzamn and Ix Chel who were the deities of medicine. Priests and healers invoked them in their prayers.'
'See? That's why I wanted you along,' grinned Richard as Mitchell hollered loudly.
'Everyone! Come and look! It's incredible!'
Julia went first, followed eagerly by Fred, then Redmond, Richard, Samuel and lastly Gillian who had been so intent on the engravings that she had barely heard the call.
The tunnel was dark, lit only by the small torches they were carrying. It descended almost vertically into the ground for twenty feet before levelling off and running in a southerly direction away from Tikal centre.
Initially the walls were plain and unadorned, but the further they ventured, evidence of the richness of Mayan life came into light. The cold air and lack of humidity had served as a preservation tool for the wonderfully rich Mayan paintings, and they paused to gaze at scenes of gods, Tikal at its peak, a royal ceremony depicting the announcement of a new heir and ancient scenery. Gillian noticed with a passing curiosity that the heir was a girl, something she had never seen before. She made a point to remember to study it on the way out.
They had walked close to a hundred feet before Mitchell came into view.
'Took you long enough,' he snarled, his pretence at anger producing a chuckle from Julia.
'You always try so hard to be assertive, but you fail miserably,' she said.
'Familiarity produces complacency, so I'm going to have to try a new tack,' asserted Mitchell as Julia patted him fondly on the shoulder.
'So, what have you discovered, Mitch?' she asked as he stepped aside and used the battery powered lantern he'd been carrying to illuminate the entire wall before him.
They all stood mouths agape at a corbelled archway built from solid jade with such precision that there was barely a visible join. On both sides of the arch was a glorious impression of a priest that had been hand carved with an exactness that was beyond comprehension. In the dark, it was almost as if you were looking at the man himself, but in reality Gillian knew he would be formed from jade, obsidian and other precious jewels.
Above the pillars in the unique stepped pattern invented by the Mayans was a distinctive arrangement of glyphs. Supposed to be read in columns of two starting from the top to bottom, Richard began to decipher what had been carved.
'The first few columns appear to say something like "you are", then we have a picture of a shield followed by two glyphs representing the sun and moon god. After that appears further characters representing friendship and B'alam which of course means "jaguar", the most revered animal in the Mayan world.'
'So ... what does it mean?' asked Redmond in breathless, youthful enthusiasm.
'I know,' commented Fred with confidence as everyone shone their lights on him and waited expectantly for his explanation.
'This is the tomb of a king. I would have thought that was conclusive considering the two uppermost gods, and the jaguar symbol commonly used by the kings are clearly evident.'
'Well ... I disagree,' added Gillian, knowing that only the darkness shielded her from Fred's scathing look.
'Those life-size carvings are clearly of a priest,' she said, gesturing to the side pillars. 'It is evident by his clothing and simple headgear. A king would be decked in his full regalia. The hieroglyphics in my view say something like "you are protected by the gods of the sun and moon. You are my friend and that of the Jaguar". I think this magnificent archway was carved as a dedication to a friend and priest,' concluded Gillian as Richard and Mitchell murmured in agreement.
'Is there a tomb here or not?' boomed Samuel irritably, his deep, resonating voice taking everyone by surprise. This was the first time he had spoken since Gillian and Fred were first introduced to him.
'Of course,' replied Gillian confidently. 'I just don't know how to gain access yet.'
'Blow the bloody door. It's not as if we're dealing with the Egyptians and all of their fancy traps. These people were primitive,' snarled Samuel, his expression of disregard for history sickening Gillian. She wondered how he ever got the job here.
'You're a real piece of work, Samuel. Can you imagine what damage you could do if you used explosives in here? Not disregarding the treasure that may lie on the other side of that panel,' said Mitchell as Samuel snarled in a reluctant concurrence.
'I might be wrong, but I think this is what we're looking for,' said Julia unexpectedly as she took the lantern from Richard. She lifted it up to a fully working Calendar Round, the Mayan calendar that could calculate up to fifty-two years with two rotating cycles, one inside the other. It was fashioned from jade, was five inches across and had a pattern of inverted hieroglyphics. Right in the centre was a hexagonal shaped ruby about the size of a walnut. 'I've seen many of these before but never with a stone in the middle. As the stone is clearly significant and the inscription above it means "entrance", it's my guess that this is the key,' and with that Julia lifted her hand to press the glittering centrepiece.
Gillian momentarily scanned the hallway, taking everything in. She looked at the paintings, carvings and colour, realising that the creator of this room was not ostentatious. He had simply depicted Mayan life as best as he could, dedicating his work to his friend. It was unclear if this passageway had been created before or after the death of the priest, but either way the only jewels used had been to embellish the priest's image. It was totally out of keeping having a jewel of such large proportions imbedded in the Calendar Round. She suddenly experienced a sinking sensation that something was wrong, out of place, planted. Gillian opened her mouth ready to voice a warning, but it was too late. Julia had pressed the stone and a deep, earthly groan rumbled beneath them.
The entire back wall had begun to shift sideways. Created from a solid block of stone that must have weighed many tons, Gillian expected that it would be stiff and noisy, but it moved as fluidly as water flowing down a stream. She was utterly amazed by the expert artisanship not seen before in the Mayan world.
'Wow!' exclaimed Richard and Mitchell in unison as the limestone disappeared into the wall and an elaborately painted room of approximately thirteen foot square came into view. It was totally covered by murals with not a blank space visible. Again it depicted the life in Tikal, but this time it was a little more personal, with paintings of the same priest in various scenes before a king and in his personal life at home.
Richard, Mitchell, Julia and Redmond moved enthusiastically to the back of the room, enthralled by the treasure trove of information before them. They stepped aside for Fred who shuffled in beside them, photographing the room for later studies. Gillian knew he would spend the next few weeks decoding the meaning behind the paintings and create meticulous records of their discoveries.
'Come and look, Gillian!' called Fred in awe as she turned to go to him, a swift, almost shocking crunch escaping from the roof above her head. Acting on instinct, Gillian dropped to her stomach and rolled away from the noise. She hit her knees and elbows hard against the floor, the pain going unnoticed as an iron gate plummeted to the ground, missing her by less than an inch.
Gillian groaned and sat up quickly, realising that she was on the opposite side of the gate to her friends. They were trapped, and the look of horror on her friends' faces as the limestone block reappeared terrified her. She yelled and screamed, but there was nothing she could do as the limestone wall slid back across the opening, almost sealing shut before Redmond slammed the pickaxe he'd been carrying with seconds to spare.
Gillian stood up, almost tripping over Samuel's unconscious body as she hurried to her friends. She was surprised to find that he had also escaped, and a quick check of his vitals revealed that he was going to be fine.
She rushed to the gap created by Redmond and called. 'Are you all okay?! If you give me a moment, I'll find a way to get you out!'
'Jilly ... I fear we're stuck here. The inner walls are made of a thin wood veneer that is likely to collapse with any drastic movement. We would be killed instantly. I still can't believe that we were dumb enough to fall into this trap,' moaned Richard.
'And you might want this. I can't be sure what it is, but I have a hunch this is the clue to our escape,' he added, reaching through the gap and passing her a square jade tile approximately two inches in diameter 'I found it imbedded in a hole on the inside of the wall, but it's too dark to translate the inscription ... although if I'm not mistaken, its medieval Latin with an arrangement of unusual hieroglyphs on the back.'
'I don't understand. Latin was not introduced to America until Christopher Columbus in 1492,' replied Gillian as the handle of the pickaxe began to splinter, the weight of the wall too much for the small tool.
'Yes, but this room is genuine. Look, Jilly, we don't have much time. A few months ago, I unearthed a box at the base of the Temple of the Sun in Teotihuacán. It has these inscriptions on it and engravings that match this plaque. You need to get it and find out what's inside. You'll find it on my shelving, under "M" ... oh ... and not to put any pressure on you, but we have just found a small crack in the floor. It seems we are hanging over a deep pit of some sort. Goodness knows what's at the bottom, but we don't really want to find out,' added Richard, and with that, the axe gave way and fell into the abyss below.
Gillian was in shock, but she did not waste time. She dropped the tablet into her pocket and started to run towards the vertical stairs only to find that her right foot was snagged. Glancing downwards to sight the cause of her obstruction, Gillian instantly recognised Samuel's bucket-like hand wrapped around her ankle. He had come too, and the look of greed on his face made shivers run down her spine.
'Give me that tile,' he hissed as Gillian leapt onto her remaining foot and swung around, kicking him in his right shoulder. Samuel reacted by releasing her foot and giving her a few precious seconds to scramble free. Gillian sprinted the a hundred feet to the exit only to hear Samuel thunder along just behind her. He reached her just as she climbed the first two steps, grabbing her legs and bringing her crashing onto her already tender knees. She tried to swipe him with her fist, but he held her fast.
'Come on, bitch. Where's the tile?' he growled as he began to rummage around in her pockets, his distraction allowing her to thrust out her left foot, the force of her kick landing directly in his groin. Samuel groaned in pain, dropping to the floor as Gillian scrambled into the light. She knew she had only won a small reprieve, her suspicions confirmed as she heard him roar in anger behind her. On instinct she reached for the abandoned spade Julia had been using earlier and swung a scoop full of dirt into the hole behind her.
'You bitch! Just wait until I get my hands on you!' he screamed, leaving no doubt that she had deposited the entire load onto his face.
Gillian ran for her life. She had to get to Houston as quickly as possible, but her biggest problem was time. It was many hours to Guatemala Airport and a further two and a half to home. On top of that was the knowledge that Samuel would be on her heels. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that he had stumbled to the surface as she had feared.
Gillian sprinted to the Lost World Temple, desperate to find somewhere she could stop for a moment to clear her mind and formulate a plan. She quickly located a crumbling arch that had fallen into three pieces, creating a small alcove that was only about waist height. It was just below Samuel's line of vision, so she hoped he would pass by without looking. Gillian ducked in and held her breath until she saw his enormous feet lumber past a few short seconds later. She exhaled quietly.
Sighing in relief, Gillian's frantic mind explored every escape scenario, eventually locating and dropping the word 'mobile phone' into her consciousness.
'Damn bloody fool,' she swore silently. She had taken her mobile phone with her, turning it off and depositing it into her pocket when she had boarded the airplane. She could not believe she had forgotten about it.
Gillian hastily located the old Nokia inside her thin cotton vest and turned it on only to be met with a beep and the symbol for low battery. Fury welled up inside her at her own stupidity. She guessed that there was only enough power for one call and with luck eventually falling her way and the phone registering adequate reception, Gillian dialled her father's work. It was a long shot, but she hoped he could pull some strings to help her.
Praying he was at his desk, Gillian looked out of her hiding spot and saw Samuel come to an abrupt halt. He had realised she was no longer in front of him and the innocent look of puzzlement transformed instantly to fury at the realisation that he had been duped. Gillian had to get out of there and quick.
She scrambled to her feet with her phone plastered to her ear and sprinted out into the open. She heard her father answer her call, but she ignored him for a moment whilst she got her bearings and raced across to the Central Acropolis. She fervently hoped it was inundated with tourists.
'Dad ... I need help ... my friends are in danger and I'm being chased!' she screamed as she pushed her toned legs to the limit ¬¬-- ducking, weaving, jumping every obstacle in her path. She was pleased that she was supremely fit, but the effort at being forced to take two steps for Samuel's one drained her, and with this heat, she was unsure how long she could keep it up.
'Where are you!' Dale yelled, his deep voice tense and worried.
'Tikal ... Guatemala,' Gillian replied as the phone dropped out. She desperately hoped that her father had understood the message.
General Dale Bright had been sitting in his office sipping a cup of strong black coffee and reading the report from the latest reconnaissance mission when his office phone buzzed repeatedly. He was tempted to ignore it, but a quick look at the caller ID screen conveyed his daughter's number in a highlighted orange. He picked up the phone immediately. It was not unusual for her to call; in fact, they spoke on a regular basis, but it was abnormal for her to ask for assistance. It was for this very reason that he knew her life was threatened.
Dale swung into action. He checked his schedule and noted that he was expecting a group of eleven men to return that afternoon from Campeche, Mexico. They were the closest to Tikal and probably his only viable option. The UH-60 Black Hawk they were flying had a top speed of 115 miles per hour which meant that they could reach Tikal in about an hour and a half. He hoped that was soon enough.
Dale picked up the radio and called Georgio Catalino. They had known each other since the Vietnam War in 1970 when the helicopter piloted by the small Greek had received a direct shot through the windshield, rendering Georgio comatose. Despite being a foot soldier and having no training in flight, Dale took the controls and flew Georgio back to base, saving his life. They had kept in contact ever since.
'We're on schedule, Dale. We're just about to leave Campeche and with two planned fuel stops, I'd estimate that we'll arrive back at Fort Sam Houston at 21 hundred hours.'
'That's not the reason behind this call. I have a situation that requires the utmost confidentiality and it will take you a couple of hours out of your way.'
'Name it. I owe you one anyway.'
'You don't owe me a thing, Georgio, but it appears my daughter has found herself in trouble at Tikal. I need you to get her out'
'Consider it done. For the record, it appears that I've hit a little snag that will take me four hours to resolve. Unfortunately I'll have to log the extra tank of juice and I'll make sure to include the added delay and changes in the register,' said Georgio unwaveringly and in good humour as he abruptly ended the call.
Dale placed his hands behind his head and reclined thoughtfully in his chair. Georgio was a good man. He'd keep the matter quiet and he trusted him to bring his daughter back safely. His rank as general allowed Dale to order any changes to a mission without question, but he was loath to let his men learn that he was wasting government funds for his own benefits. It was imperative that no one discovered his small indiscretion.
Contemplating his many missions with the small, slightly overweight Greek who loved anything that started or ended in 'food', Dale automatically screwed up his foam coffee cup and aimed for the bin near his office door. In the ten years that he had occupied this office, he had never missed the basket, but this afternoon it bounced against the bookcase and landed defiantly a foot away from the intended target. Frowning in concern at his unusual failure, he hoped this was not a sign of things to come.
Not as worrying as his daughter's predicament, but nonetheless concerning, was the failed covert operation Georgio had been on in Campeche and in a small town in Guatemala called San Marcos. They had received some intelligence about a drug smuggling ring involving high-ranking officials throughout Mexico and North America.
The list of suspected operators was as impressive as it was powerful and Dale had hoped to get a foothold into the group and break it wide open. This was not the first time the army had attempted to infiltrate the secret operation, knowledge of the congregation becoming known over fifty years ago. In fact, they had tried on many occasions but each time failed miserably.
The suspected leader was a man named Arun Keane. What little they knew about him came from a woman they had discovered wandering the streets of San Marcos, Guatemala semi-naked and alone twenty years ago. She had been horribly mutilated. Her fingers were cut off to the knuckles on her left hand, her genitals pierced and sliced so badly that she required reconstructive plastic surgery. There were horizontal cuts to all the major veins in her body. It was as if she had been bled than sewn up only to have it done all over again. From all reports, she should not have survived such a traumatic event.
She had been immediately placed into an induced coma designed to allow her body the maximum amount of rest and recovery and it had been a few days before Dale was allowed to interview her. He admitted to being nervous and had struggled to control his emotions as he had entered the hospital room.
Dale studied her face and despite the considerable scarring along the left ear and cheek, she was very attractive. Her long black hair was glossy, her eyes large and expressive and she had an unusual, extremely detailed tattoo of the Mayan Calendar Round between her neck and shoulderblade.
Throughout most of the interview she had ranted and raved, a deep psychosis causing the loss of most of her memory, but in the occasional moments of clarity, she revealed that she was a true survivor, a trait Dale greatly admired. He had also discovered that her marred exterior was simply a shell for a beautiful personality and Dale felt strangely drawn to her which surprised and puzzled him. Perhaps it was her resemblance to the ideal soldier that attracted him, able to put her body on the line but strong enough for it not to affect her psyche.
In her daze, she had revealed sketchy details about elaborate ceremonies and vast quantities of white powder being shipped out on a weekly basis after each ceremony. It was not much for him to go on, but it was a start that led to subsequent arrests and the uncovering of other group members, which allowed them to make inroads on the operation. He also secretly kept in contact with Reynata, visiting as often as possible.
Turning his thoughts back to his latest mission, Dale wondered how it had gone so wrong. They had uncovered an entire cocaine storage facility outside Eagle Pass near the border of Texas and Mexico three months ago. In it they had been lucky enough to find a small notebook that contained the names of Arun and a surprisingly well-known list of clients leading to a prominent and illustrious mayor being arrested and charged for possession. It was he who had given them the location of the facility in Campeche, under extreme duress, of course and with the assistance of his expert interrogator who never failed to obtain the required information. Still, it had not led to anything substantial and it frustrated him.
In the hour that had passed since she had called her father, Gillian had covered every area of the Central Acropolis, North Acropolis and Great Plaza in a bid to outwit and outrun Samuel. It was very late in the day and the sun was beginning to set. There had been no tourists as she had hoped and Samuel was right on her tail.
Gillian had managed a small reprieve for fifteen minutes after locating a tunnel in which to hide, but Samuel had found her. He was persistent, but her years of training had given her endurance and speed. She was much quicker than him, but her legs were beginning to fail her. They had passed their pain threshold and were something akin to wobbling pieces of jelly.
Samuel had also produced a large hunting knife and only moments earlier had grabbed her by the hair and slashed her right forearm. Gillian escaped by rolling away and leaping the six feet from the ledge onto the side of Temple I. Her landing had been unbalanced and even the grassy surface had been unable to cushion her fall, causing her to twist her ankle.
The pain was horrendous, but she picked herself up and continued her escape only to find that the throb in her leg brought about a lack of concentration. She was limping and tired and she could sense that her will to fight was failing her. She longed to rest and was in the midst of indulging in that pleasant thought when she tripped over a concealed, discarded building block.
She tried to peel herself off the ground, but it was too late. Samuel was right behind her. He grabbed her and placed a knife to her throat. 'At last I have you. You may be quick, but you are a stupid, red-haired bitch' he hissed as Gillian felt his sweat drip onto her head and clothes. It carried a revolting stench of body odour that took all of her control to stop from retching.
Her first reaction was to give in, but that was not in her nature, so she decided to fight. Gillian turned her right hand out from his grip, thankful that his hand was not big enough to contain both of hers. She twisted, lifted and slammed both of her elbows into his chin with as much force as she could muster. Her unexpected, powerful drive slammed his head backwards and forced him off balance. Still, he was not deterred and immediately moved to raise his knife and stab her somewhere towards her stomach, but Gillian was expecting him. Her senses had sharpened and she danced sideways as the deadly blade glanced off her shoulder and shot into empty air. Samuel screamed in frustration and desperately scrambled to grab her, his hands ensnarling her long hair and dragging her to her knees.
Gillian spun backwards and mustered as much courage as she could. She unleashed a powerful kick into his legs and was rewarded by a hiss of pain and instant freedom which she failed to take advantage of. In her haste she had tripped on a loose piece of dirt and her right leg flailed in the air, giving Samuel something to grab hold of.
He snagged her foot, but Gillian leapt outward on her hands and scissor-kicked him squarely in the face with her free left boot. He yelled in fury, the frustration at being matched fairly by a woman etched in vehemence on his already flushed features.
He scowled deeply and lunged again, only this time his mouth was open in anger and the force of his dive caused him to unwittingly sink his teeth into her ankle. Gillian screamed. The pain was excruciating, made all the worse by the visualisation of her blood on his lips. He made for a gruesome sight with wild hair, filthy face and torn clothes matted together by his sweat, and now her blood.
Desperate to eliminate any harm and knowing that her adrenaline would wane any moment, Gillian decided to remove the object that posed the most danger to her -- his knife. She knew this could be fatal, but she had no idea how long her father would be or even if he had understood her. She had to take the chance.
She flung herself unexpectedly at Samuel and caught him off guard. She attempted to seize his knife and managed to wrap her hands around the base of the handle and was about to pull at it when she caught sight of his eyes. He was looking at her with a mix of utter hatred but, more importantly, the need to succeed. She understood in that one instant that he was being driven by an unknown force to become this hunter that he did not necessarily like but was compelled to fulfill. The man he had developed into was not necessarily a true reflection of his nature. He blinked uncertainly at her and was caught by surprise as she rammed the handle of the knife and her fists up into his chin.
Samuel reacted quickly and, with his hand still enveloping the top part of the handle, managed to jerk the knife outward and downward towards her stomach, but Gillian had the advantage. With an instinctive jerk, she pulled it from him, slicing his palms as the blade passed through his hands.
He yelled in fury and stood looking in shock as his blood dripped readily onto the lush green grass between them.
Gillian ran for her life with the knife still firmly encased in her grip. She scrambled frantically up the man-made terraces and ran into the open space left of Temple II. It was here that an unusual sound caught her attention. Initially she was unable to locate the source of the noise, but within a minute or two, a set of fifty foot rotors whipped into view. The two General Electric motors powered the five ton machine through the sky as if it was a featherweight, and Gillian felt a surge of relief at her impending rescue.
The Black Hawk landed sixty feet from where she was standing and a young man adept to jumping from the machine quickly disembarked and ran to Gillian. She keenly followed his instructions and kept her head low whilst running back into the downdraft of the helicopter, stopping only to see Samuel make his escape into the thick jungle nearby. She wondered where he was going, her question answered as a group of tourists came into view. They were excitedly beholding their glorious surroundings, clearly unaware that their vehicle, and only means of leaving Tikal, had been stolen.
Gillian watched from above as the dirty van whizzed hastily from the car park, forcing a billow of dust into the air. She was just about to tell the pilot (whom she recognised as her Dad's friend Georgio) that the tourists required a replacement vehicle when she heard him on the radio to the La Aurora Airport requesting a substitute taxi. A wry smile crossed her face. Despite his gentle façade, Georgio was highly intelligent. He rarely missed anything and when he saw the speeding car making a getaway, he had put two and two together.
Totally exhausted, Gillian introduced herself to the kind soldier who assisted her onto the Black Hawk.
'Welcome aboard, ma'am. My name is Tom,' replied the innocent looking, wide-eyed man who appeared as if he just stepped out of college.
'Now, if you'd let me, I'd like to take a look at those injuries,' he said, pointing to her bleeding ankle and removing a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet.
'Thank you,' replied Gillian as she sat on the floor and pulled up the leg of her pants to reveal the bruised ankle and deep incisions caused by Samuel's teeth. She suspected they needed stitches, her thoughts confirmed as Tom prepared a local anaesthetic accompanied by a needle and thread.
'Don't worry ma'am. This is my job. I've done it many times before,' said Tom, reading the look of distress on her face.
Gillian was not afraid of needles but did not like seeing them inserted into her skin. She looked away as he repaired her wound and wrapped the ankle for support.
'You'll have to rest it for a bit,' said Tom gently as he left to clean up and attend to his duties.
Gillian knew he was right, but the next twenty-four hours were crucial for Fred and her friends. There was no way she would let her little injury get in her way. She would just have to put up with the pain.
Gillian napped most of the next six hours back to San Antonio. She knew that it would be her only opportunity for rest for some time and she took advantage of it.
The helicopter landed at 1am with no greeting party other than her father.
Dale Bright was approximately five foot ten and of average build. He had a deep set of hazel eyes and a full crop of brown hair that had only just begun to grey. Those who met him would tell you that their first impression of him was unmemorable, but when he spoke they listened. Dale had that rare ability to easily portray his thoughts in a forceful but concise manner that left listeners feeling in awe. He was a powerful man who disliked being defied and always took a matter seriously, only recently developing a sense of humour that was often ill timed or simply not appropriate. This was one of those occasions.
Dale saluted his daughter in a mock welcome as she descended onto the helipad with the aid of Tom's arm. His attempt to be humorous at 1am after her ordeal was not well received and Gillian frowned.
'Welcome, daughter. I see Tom's taken good care of you. He's a good soldier. You would do well with someone like him instead of that man you're with,' the praise bringing a blush to Tom's cheeks
'His name is Fred, Dad,' retorted Gillian, knowing that her father disliked him enough never to refer to him by his name. It was always 'that man' or 'him'.
'Yes ... yes,' said Dale, brushing off the subject as he put his arm around his daughter's shoulder and escorted her to his office.
'Now, tell me about what happened at Tikal,' asked Dale as he made a coffee for both himself and Gillian who gratefully accepted the soothing beverage, keen for the caffeine it provided.
She required no prompting, quickly reciting the day's occurrences and earning her father's undivided attention.
'Do you have the small jade tile Richard gave you?' he asked when she had finished. Gillian nodded and retrieved the item from her pocket, noting the look of confusion and curiosity on her father's face. It was unlike him to show so much attention to a small archaeological object, so she immediately knew another agenda was at play.
'Don't try to hide it, Dad. I know that I've captured your attention. Perhaps you would care to share thoughts with me?'
'It's nothing really,' he replied, his twitching eye giving Gillian a clear indication that he was lying. Her father had a mild case of astigmatism, so when he was concealing a matter of importance, his eyes would shake. It was a dead giveaway that she found incredibly amusing.
'Dad!'
'Okay ... perhaps you can help me, but this is classified top secret. I can't afford for it to get out,' he replied reluctantly.
She responded by pretending to zip her mouth as he produced a photo of a woman with a tattoo at the base of her neck. Her first reaction was one of shock. The woman was emaciated and her hair was entangled with months of grime, but it was the haunted look in her deep blue eyes that she found chilling. She was also quite young. Perhaps early twenties, but it was hard to tell. She looked as if she had lived many years in her short life and Gillian wondered what sort of trauma would cause a person to seem so sad.
'Who is she?' asked Gillian, her father's lack of response and hardened gaze warning her that he did not wish to answer her question. Gillian did not pursue it.
'The tattoo is a depiction of the Mayan Calendar Round. This tile is also Mayan and has the word "zip" engraved repeatedly in Medieval Latin. In Mayan, the word "zip" reflects the third month of the Mayan calendar and means "obsidian butterfly, vulture, wise and realistic". This is reconfirmed by the "zip" hieroglyph in the middle. Although they look different, they are representative of the same thing,' mused Gillian as she compared the symbols and size.
'Yes ... my thoughts exactly. For many years we have been attempting to infiltrate a tightly held drug ring. We suspect that many high-ranking officials are involved, but we have had little success in tracing them. To date, the only evidence we have been able to uncover that binds the organisation together is this picture. This calendar has turned up on various pieces of evidence we have collected over the years, but it is nothing more than circumstantial. I am hoping that there is a connection here, even if it's small and I'm grasping at straws,' said Dale. He continued, 'It's for this reason that I would like to help you save your friends and hopefully uncover some more information for my case. I would presume that the next logical step is to locate the obsidian box that Richard Deinhart spoke about.'
'Yes,' responded Gillian in surprise. This was more than she could have hoped for. She had expected to do this alone, but the assistance of her father was greatly appreciated. 'Shall we head off in the morning?'
'There's no time like the current. I am eager to get this underway, considering we are unsure of how much time your friends have. Due to the sensitivity of this matter and my ongoing case, I do not want to involve the police. I will, however, send some of my best men to Tikal to check on the wellbeing of your friends and see if there is an alternative way to get them out,' responded Dale as he helped Gillian off her chair and back to the UH-1 Iroquois helicopter.
'Are you ready to fly, Georgio? We've got an important mission,' ordered Dale as he prodded his slightly tubby friend, in the hallway.
'Of course, General. Always ready to fly for you, day or night, hungry or tired.' Georgio bowed in a mock gesture of respect, his humour bringing a smile to Dale's face.
'It's only to Houston,' replied Dale.
'I know what your "only to Houston" means. It means I'll be there for hours, but it's fine as I'm used to waiting around for you. The helicopter's like a second home to me now.'
'You're a good bloke, Georgio,' said Dale as he patted his friend on the back.
\*\*\*
After an hour of flying in the dark under the eagle eye of Georgio Catalino, they found themselves safely on the grassy oval of a vacant school. It was less than a street from their destination and the only area in the highly populated suburb where a helicopter could land.
Dale exited first before assisting his daughter. 'We won't be long!' shouted Dale through the din of the rotating helicopter blades.
'I've heard it all before. Don't worry! I'll be here when you get back!' replied Georgio as he switched off the machine and, as cool as a cucumber, lay back and pretended to sleep.
Dale shook his head in amusement. 'Come on,' said Dale, encouraging Gillian to increase her pace as they passed through the school gate and into the adjoining street dominated by old freestanding Victorian style homes.
Richard's home was only 300 feet from the school and during the short walk, Gillian noticed that each house had been meticulously maintained with Richard's own circa 1820 home recently receiving a new paint job, wrought-iron railings, ornate fretwork and an elaborate garden.
It had been a couple of years since she had been to Richard's home and she stared nervously at the empty building. It was strange, almost eerie, to be entering his private residence whilst he was in trouble thousands of miles away.
'Stand aside, Gillian. This is a job for me,' ordered Dale as he started to attach an explosive device to the white painted wood exterior.
'Stop!' commanded Gillian, the urgency in her voice surprising even herself. For one thing, blasting the door was not necessary, and the other was that this door had a sentimental emotion attached to it. As an impressionable young adult she had stood at this very door, fearful of the man everyone called 'Professor'. Her dread had been so extreme and the nausea so overpowering that she had been unable to move. It was only that he had seen her approach and opened the door that she had entered. The rest was history and other than her father, he was the most influential man in her life.
Dale looked at her in surprise and moved aside as Gillian pressed a hidden spring-loaded cover on the side wall. It opened to reveal a coded keypad instead of the traditional door key. Without hesitation Gillian punched in the date of his first successful dig and was rewarded by a click of the lock.
'We're in,' said Gillian, feeling the need to whisper for which she was unable to find a logical explanation except that she felt as if she was trespassing.
The house was deathly quiet with the only sound being the regular ding of the grandfather clock in the hall. In an automatic reaction, Gillian went to switch on the lights, but her father stopped her.
'We're not supposed to be here and I don't want to promote further suspicion. We have no idea who might be watching us.'
Gillian nodded and directed her father through the foyer and left into the study.
It was extremely dark, lit only by the occasional ray of moonlight that filtered through the thick blue curtains. The heavy ornate oak bookshelves loomed ominously, throwing their bold oppressive shadows onto the striped regal wallpaper. The oak desk sat overwhelmingly to the left of the door.
Gillian had been in this room many times and easily made her way around the two chairs and past the fireplace. She approached a side table below the casement window and paused to look at the gruesome skull of an ancient shark. It was the ideal hiding spot. Quickly placing her hand in the mouth of the long dead fish, she pulled the far right tooth and waited for a moment until the left bookshelf shifted slightly.
Behind the bookshelf was another keypad and this time she pressed the numbers ten and eleven, the sizes of Richard's uneven feet. Once again she heard an audible click and a false panel masquerading as plasterboard slid sideways into the cavity, revealing a set of stairs that descended into the dark.
Gillian reached in and switched on the light.
In absolute silence, Dale and Gillian descended the two flights of stairs until they arrived at the bottom landing where Gillian moved to the ten cubes fitted into the wall like a child's game. Each cube was like a six-sided die with an Egyptian hieroglyph on each face. She quickly turned the ones that represented 'Geb', the Egyptian earth god, and pressed them into the wall.
'The security at Sam Houston pales in comparison to this place,' admired Dale in awe as the steel-plated panel slid sideways to reveal a trove of veritable treasures. It was the culmination of Richard's life work. 'Phew,' whistled Dale in appreciation.
They stepped into the room that looked like a museum with it numerous pedestals and large glass display cabinets. As always, Richard was fastidious. Large racks dominated the right side of the cavernous room and each rack represented a letter of the alphabet. For example, any archaeological items Richard had found in Australia where on the first rack whilst Canada was on the third and so forth. The most precious items of his collection were in individual glass cases that littered the room, each with their own specialised security and alarm system. Richard had left nothing to chance.
Gillian went immediately to the 'M' aisle, representing Mexico, and reached for a container that had Teotihuacán written in a black smudge-proof marker on the front. Inside was a box about the size of a biscuit tin, wrapped in bubble wrap. She lifted it out and placed it in a leather carry bag Richard had lying on the nearby examination table positioned against the right wall.
'Are you sure it's the right one?' asked Dale as Gillian nodded definitively. Richard had given clear instructions that it was 'on his shelving under M'. This was the only box shaped object there.
'Good. Let's get out of here,' said Dale, the urgency in his voice not missed by Gillian. He was eager to get back to the safety of the helicopter.
They hurried back the way they came with Dale having to assist his daughter up the last flight of stairs. Gillian ensured that all doors were properly sealed on their way out, but when they reached the study, Dale hurriedly put his hand over Gillian's mouth. He gestured to her to be quiet. Gillian nodded; she had heard it also. Someone was at the front door and although Richard and Gillian could not see them, they could hear the keypad click in an attempt to gain entry. Clearly frustrated at their inability to crack the code, the person swore before placing something up against the door.
Gillian immediately realised that they were going to resort to explosives. She was infuriated but recognised the need to get out as quickly as possible. Richard needed her to save him. Putting her life at risk for his possessions was not an option.
'Is there another way out?' Dale hissed.
'Yes, the laundry door, but it leads to a solid walled courtyard and I don't think there's a rear exit,' replied Gillian.
'It'll have to do,' whispered Dale as they rushed through the kitchen and into the side room at the same time a small explosion rocked the house. It was not loud enough to alert the neighbours, but it created sufficient shock to duplicate the shaking effect of a mild earthquake.
Dale yanked at the rear door, exiting just as the voices of two people registered in the hall.
The courtyard replicated the garden of a French provincial home with box hedges, topiary and a centre water feature. On initial inspection it appeared impassable, but it soon became evident that the small garden shed was about the same height as the cream painted walls and as luck would have it, a garden ladder lay discarded on the otherwise neat paving.
Placing the ladder against the side of the shed, they both climbed onto the roof and jumped over the wall.
The adjoining alley was used only by residential traffic and was the dumping ground for discarded rubbish. It was littered with old boxes that Gillian and Dale used to soften their fall.
'Shit!' swore Gillian as she jarred her foot, bringing about a jolt of pain that brought her to a grinding halt.
'Sorry, love, but we can't stop,' insisted Dale, lending Gillian his arm as she hobbled down the cobblestone alley to the waiting chopper.
'Almost there,' he added as the school came into sight and they both visibly relaxed. The helicopter was only around the corner and Gillian was suffering from exhaustion and pain. She longed to rest even if it was only for the hour back to Houston. She was also eager to study the box and sighed in relief as the rotor blades came into view.
Scaling the low boundary fence with renewed enthusiasm, they ran to the waiting Black Hawk, their progress terminated as the helicopter burst into flames before their eyes.
The explosion was deafening, the disbelief and absolute shock of witnessing the loss of Georgio and their opportunity to escape stopping them in their path. Totally dumbfounded and with their voices caught in their throats, Dale and Gillian dropped to the ground in an automatic reaction to avoid the flames and a deluge of falling debris. The sky had lit up with an eerie red glow that radiated for miles and it was only moments before the neighbouring community and the local fire brigade was alerted to the commotion.
'Oh, my god!' exclaimed Gillian as she glanced at her father. The colour of his face had drained completely, leaving an ashen complexion as he gazed at the scene unmoving. She understood what he was feeling, but it would do them no good to stay here. It was clearly not an accident and with her father's revelations about the widespread drug ring, the strange actions of Samuel and the breakin at Richard's home, she realised that the perpetrators were likely to be hunting them.
'Come on, Dad. We've got to get out of here.'
'No. I must go and see what happened. We were on an official mission and it's my duty to report this loss, especially to Georgio's family,' his voice wavering in despondency.
'You can do that later, Dad, but right now we still have five people relying on us to rescue them.'
'To be honest, Gillian, right now I don't give a damn about your friends or any mission we were on. My friend has just perished in that explosion and I owe it to him to at least find out what happened,' he retorted angrily, his reaction not unexpected or unwarranted.
Gillian did not respond. She had seen him like this before after the death of a couple of close comrades. It was his way of coming to terms with his loss and she had to let him do what was necessary regardless of the consequences.
Dale went to stand, his body almost fully upright when someone leapt on him from behind. Neither Gillian nor Dale had seen the person approach and their first reaction was to fight. Dale rolled and tried to tackle the intruder to the ground whilst Gillian went to pull him off.
'You bloody idiots. What must a man do to get the attention of his friends? I tried whistling and waving, but you're both as blind as bats.'
'Georgio, my friend, you had me half scared to death. I was sure you died on that chopper.' Dale hugged his friend in delight, the display of emotion catching both Georgio and Gillian by surprise.
'My god, he does have a heart after all. I would never have known,' chuckled Georgio as his expression turned serious.
'I'd just stepped outside for a wee when I saw them approach. Five of them, I reckon, but it was hard to tell. Thankfully the grass was high and I hid whilst they searched the plane. I would normally have expected them to come looking for me, but my guess is that they thought this was the getaway vehicle and decided to blow it.'
'Shit, so they know we're here,' replied Dale.
'Who's they?' asked Gillian as both Georgio and Dale glanced at each other in a unified understanding.
'The same people who are after that tile,' said Dale as they picked themselves up and hurried to the side fence where they were afforded cover from the large overhanging trees. Dale immediately rang Fort Sam Houston and reported the helicopter accident, knowing that it would be in the news the following morning. His secretary would take care of all the details for him, coming up with a suitable explanation for the explosion if necessary. He then requested a backup vehicle which was promptly dispatched from Houston, arriving at the school only a few minutes later.
Dale would normally have been concerned about the criminals trailing them, but the explosion had brought out nearly every fire engine and police vehicle available in the area. It had created a virtual no-go zone and they were safe for the minute.
Thirty-five minutes later Dale, Gillian and Georgio were delivered safely to Georgio's brother's house in Houston. His brother was currently away on vacation and had predictably left a spare key under a nondescript moss-covered rock in the garden bed. Unlike Georgio, who was a security freak, his brother cared very little about alarms or deadlocks and it had taken a good deal of convincing just to get him to hide the key.
'There's not much furniture,' observed Gillian as they walked into a small lounge with pale yellow walls and brown carpet.
'My brother is a bachelor.'
'Ah ... that says it all,' laughed Gillian as she placed the plastic container she had retrieved from Richard's home onto the small stained and dinted coffee table.
They opened it carefully, the well-packaged item causing Gillian to wonder what damage the intruders had done to Richard's home. She hoped it was minimal, but she feared that would not be the case.
Once the plastic container had been removed, Gillian unpacked the bubble wrap and lifted the contents from its protective covering. It was a plain box made of solid obsidian, the very simplicity of the object giving the first clue that it had been carved by a master at the height of his craft. It was perfectly symmetrical and square, faultless to the last inch.
In the centre at the top was the word 'zip', accompanied by the matching Mayan hieroglyphic.
Richard had been right to connect the two.
Georgio whistled in appreciation. 'Today's manufacturers could learn a thing or two.'
The lack of outward decoration drew the eye to the highly polished volcanic glass that glimmered in the light. It was not marred by a tool mark or line and it took Gillian a few minutes of careful scrutiny to locate a small notch three-quarters of the way up one side.
As careful as a jeweller handling a diamond, Gillian ran her nail through the centre of the groove and discovered an almost indistinguishable ridge. She levered this up only to find a second box snugly positioned inside. Following the same procedure, she found a third box that had a visible seam running lengthways across the top and a square indentation in the middle.
Above and below the central decoration were the words 'Way B'alam', engraved in Mayan hieroglyphs. This translated to mean 'the spirit of the jaguar', a common description given to the leaders of the Mayan world who considered the jaguar to be the holiest of all creatures. To be compared to the jaguar was the highest acknowledgement of all.
Gillian reached into her pocket as Georgio and Dale looked on in utter fascination. She withdrew the tile Richard had given her and placed it in the indentation. It fit perfectly although she had to ensure that the grooves on the back of the disk were in line with the ones carved into the box. Twisting it gently to the right, the two halves of the lid clicked and sprang open.
They all bumped heads in their eagerness to look. 'Do you mind?' chastised Gillian in good humour as they grinned sheepishly and withdrew.
Gillian looked for a second time and was confused.
At the base of the box, in the same condition as it had been created, was a singular sheet of lime-covered vegetable fibre paper with an exceptionally preserved coloured drawing of the Calendar Round. It was glorious and they all gasped in unison.
'Well, it's not the cache of jewels we were expecting,' commented Gillian before her green eyes lit in deliberation. 'Dad, do you have that picture of the woman with the tattoo I was looking at on your desk?'
'Hmmm ... yes,' he muttered as he took it from his wallet and handed it to her.
'The drawing is similar to the tattoo, but there is one major difference. Both the tattoo and common illustrations of the Calendar usually show it as having a solid centre although you will occasionally see a picture of it with a circular hole.
'This drawing is really left of field. I have never seen the Calendar Round with a hexagonal core. In fact, the hexagonal shape is so unusual that I cannot help but draw a similarity to the hexagonal ruby Julia pressed to activate the trap at Tikal.
Gillian sat silently for a moment
'I have an idea although I'm not sure how proficient it is. What we have is an unusually detailed drawing with a hexagonal centre, a hexagonal ruby and the common denominator of the same creator. Surely the scarcity of such a shape confirms they are connected.'
'That's all good and fine, but now what? I can't see how paper is connected to a real jewel,' said Dale as Georgio interrupted.
'Perhaps this drawing is a clue in itself. Perhaps it's a drawing of a real calendar round.'
'There's an inscription on the inside of the second lid,' his words taking a couple of seconds to sink in before Gillian diverted her attention and followed his gaze.
'I didn't see this,' she muttered as she began to read the lines of Latin text. 'The real treasure depicted in this box belongs to my true heir. The one I cannot claim as my own although he is of my blood.'
'That's rather sad. Whoever carved this wanted to leave his treasure to his child although it seems that the child did not know who this person was,' mused Gillian as Dale scowled irritably.
'Who cares. That was fifteen hundred years ago. All the inscription means is that there is a real treasure out there somewhere. So, if you want to save your friends, we need to find the disk depicted in the drawing and I haven't the faintest idea where to start. For all we know, it's buried under centuries of dirt.'
'Any thoughts, Georgio?' asked Dale.
'The Internet is as good a place as any. You never know what you might find on it. Only last week I managed to find a rare cricket card to finish my collection,' chuckled Georgio in an attempt at humour.
No one was laughing.
'You and that bloody Internet. I don't know what you see in it. Whatever happened to the good old book,' Dale replied.
'He might have a point though,' said Gillian as they turned and looked at her in amazement.
'You've got to be kidding,' said Dale as Georgio stood up.
'Follow me.'
Gillian stood up and followed him to the only expensive electrical item in the entire house -- a desktop computer and a scanner.
Georgio logged on and deftly entered the words 'ancient jade disk'. It bought up numerous entries, but the most interesting was an auction item on Ebay.
'Come and look at this!' he hollered.
Dale rushed to their side.
'It's definitely similar,' pondered Gillian as the picture downloaded onto their screen.
'I reckon it's identical,' added Dale.
'Bloody right. It's one and the same, listed by someone called Adam Housner only a half hour ago in Australia,' spat Georgio.
'Shit. And he used his real name ... brainless fool. And it's my bet that we're not the only ones to have discovered it,' said Dale, shaking his head in disbelief at the man's stupidity.
'How will anyone else know about this? We're the only ones with this paper,' queried Gillian.
'Yes, but this disk is a very important symbol for Arun's and treasure hunters in general. They will come for it even if only for that reason,' said Dale.
'We need to get to him before someone else,' contributed Georgio as Dale stood up and left the room.
Gillian looked questioningly to Georgio. 'Your father has many contacts. He'll ensure he reaches Adam Housner before Arun's men.'
Gillian nodded. She observed her father's rigid posture and knew he was asking for a favour. Georgio grinned. 'If he stiffens up any more, he'll turn into a statue.'
Gillian laughed and waited patiently for her father to return.
'It's all sorted. My friend Air Chief Marshall Harris Barnes from the Royal Australia Air Force has sent someone to pick him up and they have kindly offered to bring him to us aboard an F-111 as it seems they have also been trying to break the same ring of criminals as us. With a speed of 1660 miles per hour and an approximate distance of 8938 miles, I would expect that he'll be here in approximately eight hours, allowing for the time it will take to find him in the first place. In the meantime, we need to get back to San Antonio. We'll be expecting the plane to arrive at the Brooks City-Base.
'See? That's why you're the General and I'm not,' said Georgio, grinning at Dale's elongated and comprehensive speech.
Dale frowned at the realisation that he was being mocked.
Gillian laughed. When her father was on a roll he could out talk and out 'statistic' the best of them.
They moved back to the lounge as the distinctive sounds of a helicopter hovering outside shook the glass in the window frames.
'Ahhh, they're here to pick us up,' said Dale as both Gillian and Georgio stared at him in confusion. 'What, did you both think we were going to walk back to Sam Antonio,' Dale chuckled as Gillian snatched the obsidian box from the table but dropped it in her haste.
'I'll get it,' offered Georgio as he leant over and paused for a moment. 'I didn't see this before,' he noted as he handed Gillian the box, noticing that the inner compartment had been dislodged and a false base revealed.
Her heart missed a beat in excitement as she took out the loose substructure and found what seemed to be a diary. This was fantastic, her feelings akin to a child receiving a pile of presents on Christmas morning. She longed to read it, but the time was not appropriate, so she placed it back into the box for safekeeping. She decided to read the script when she returned to San Antonio. She would have a few hours to herself until the Australian arrived.
Gillian limped out onto the road and paused for a moment, turning to look at the house they had just left. She could not put her finger on it but felt that someone was watching her. Seeing no movement, she presumed it was a figment of her imagination, most likely as the result of exhaustion. She needed to rest.
Samuel sat in a room at the Hotel Aeropuerto adjacent to La Aurora Airport. He had failed his ahaw (Mayan ruler) by allowing the red-haired woman to escape. Ahaw had insisted he attend this dig due to the likelihood of rare and exciting riches and it was his duty to ensure things went to plan. The ensuing entrapment of the archaeologists and escape of the woman with the plaque had infuriated him, but Samuel had one thing in his favour. He had overheard the old man known as Richard tell the woman that he had unearthed a box at the base of the Temple of the Sun in Teotihuacán with matching inscriptions. It had sounded so important that he had rung his ahaw, on the way out of Tikal, who immediately deployed a contingency to capture her.
Unfortunately their first effort failed when Dale Bright simply replaced the helicopter they had destroyed, leaving Samuel feeling guilty. If he had captured her in Tikal then Ahaw would not have sent men to Houston, so the entire failure to date was his fault. He knew his ahaw would see it the same way and he dreaded the call he had to make.
Samuel's fingers could barely dial the familiar numbers on his mobile phone.
He did not speak. Ahaw knew who it was.
'You failed me, my son, but I'm not angry. It is not your fault alone although I have come to expect more of you. Nevertheless all is not lost. I have the location of her destination and expect you to do better next time.'
Samuel cringed. A second failure would surely spell his death.
He paid undivided attention to his ahaw and learnt that a plane would be sent to take him to San Antonio at which time a list of directives would be provided. He was expected to follow the commands faithfully without diversion.
Before hanging up the phone, his ruler also ordered him to ask the gods to forgive his failure and look favourably upon the next part of his mission. In particular he was required to pray to Xaman-Ek, the god of the North Star, depicted by a black monkey head. He needed to ask for direction and guidance in his journey and this had to be accompanied with the 'bloodletting' ceremony.
Samuel always came prepared, learning from experience that the failure to produce evidence of appeasing the deities after a flawed mission resulted in consequences. His first assignment almost five years ago was to send a traitor to mitnal, the ninth and worst level of the underworld. He had succeeded in releasing him of his earthly life but had forgotten to take the heart as proof of his victory. Ahaw punished him by leaving the head of his only friend Can-tel on his bed that evening. At first it had upset him, but he came to realise that it was the result of his own failings and the all forgiving Ahaw would accept his mortal weaknesses if he could demonstrate he had repented.
Reaching into the small bag he carried around his waist, Samuel produced a specimen jar and custom made threadlike, surgical steel spike. The balled end of the bloodletting tool had been engraved with his name and presented to him when he had been given the greatly desired privilege of defending their community from intruders.
His home was a vast labyrinth of rooms carved by their ancestors into the peak of Tajumulco some 13 000 feet from the ground. It afforded them views of the lower grounds where all of the lesser children of the gods resided. It was these people, jealous that Samuel's community contained the chosen students of Hunab Ku, who had mounted an attack against them. Samuel was sent to assist in destroying their world and stop the spread of their evil influence.
Samuel took one long sniff of the revered powder to dull the pain and dropped his pants to his ankles. He then lowered his underwear and lifted his flaccid penis, rubbing it slightly until it was somewhat erect and easier to work with. Quickly locating the thick pulsing vein at the back of the organ, Samuel took the sharp spine and jabbed it into the membrane, pushing it until it had completely penetrated his entire manhood. He withdrew it immediately and placed the specimen jar underneath, catching the stream of blood as it spurted from the hole he had created. When the clear, yellow lidded jar was full, he rubbed a pinch of the white powder into the wound to staunch the bleeding.
Dressing the wound with gauze, Samuel then withdrew a few drops of blood from the container and placed it on a piece of paper which he burnt. The resulting flames and smoke would make its way into the sky where the Paua tun (the four gods that hold up the sky) would smell his scent and know that he had given up some of his very essence to request their forgiveness. The rest would later be presented to Ahaw for his consideration.
Samuel recalled the first time he had been requested to complete this special ceremony. Initially he had trouble with the pain, but with the insistence of his leader, Samuel had soon learnt the white powder greatly assisted him. He had also discovered that his own mind was a powerful tool in quelling pain and he had almost reached a level where he no longer required relief. The only problem was that he enjoyed it. It made him feel invincible and this gave him great confidence.
Recently, though, the red-haired woman had caused him to question himself. She had outrun and outwitted him, singularly causing the failure of his mission. He was not angry with her -- women could not be held responsible for their own actions -- but rather at his own lack of ability. Women were only useful as breeders and to provide amusement. They certainly did not have the supreme intelligence of a man, so he could not understand how she had out-manoeuvered him. It was something he would have to consider further.
Samuel gazed at his body. Until he had ventured from his home five years ago, his body lacked muscle and stamina. His skin had been white and translucent from the lack of sun and his eyes were unused to glare. Now he was tanned, lean and well defined. His hair was black, glossy and wavy and his skin was clear and healthy; however, he had not stopped there. He had learnt minimal skills from the ancient Japanese art of karate to assist in his protection and etiquette that allowed him to integrate more readily into the population he wished to walk amongst. His only flaw was the missing ear which had been taken from him as punishment for asking about the woman whose body he had come from. He never questioned his deliverance into the world again.
He quickly brushed his white teeth, untarnished from the ravages of sugar and corrosive drinks, and turned to see a rat scurrying across the floor. He reacted quickly, grabbing an exposed shaving razor from the vanity unit and spinning around, his unexpected movement momentarily startling the rat and giving him enough time to whip the blade across its neck. He had almost severed the spine and tendons and his right hand was covered in blood. Samuel smiled in pleasure. This would make a small but suitable offering to Hun Honshu and Xbalanque, the two hero twins of creation. He hoped they would consider him favourably and pass some of their bravery onto him.
Samuel quickly placed the decapitated body and severed head onto a sheet of paper and carried it outside. He prayed before leaving it near the front door and moved back into the unit, suddenly caught by surprise as his mobile phone rang. In the five years he had possessed one of these strange machines, he was still unable to get used to it. He answered the phone tentatively and waited until he heard the divine voice of his supreme ruler.
'Samuel, the plane is waiting for you in hangar three. It is a small jet with the name "Renalda" on the side. My further instructions are inside,' his raspy, ageing voice forcibly demanded. His ruler was old, somewhere over seventy, but he commanded complete respect and conformance from all of his children, and they loved him. He was the provider of their shelter, food and water. He was their king.
'I will go immediately, as you command.'
'Do not disappoint me this time. Of course I would try and protect you, but I fear the wrath the gods will afflict on us if we cannot show them our loyalty. The council will also be upset. The sacred Juun (book) has long foretold of a discovery of a great treasure that will ensure the continuance of our community. It would be a shame to tell the populace that they have been deprived of this great treasure because you failed to defeat a female.'
'I will find the woman for you, my ahaw,' replied Samuel, the thought of failure never even entering his conscience.
Samuel zealously ensured he had removed any traces of his existence before walking the 450 feet from Hotel Aeropuerto to the airport. He had been to La Aurora Airport previously and required no direction to the outfield where the hangars were situated. It took only a few moments before he located Hangar number three, noticing that a lone figure of a woman was waiting for him at the door.
'Welcome. You must be Samuel. My name is Alandra and I'm your pilot this afternoon'
Samuel looked at her in surprise. She was small and elegant with a nice waist and generous breasts. She moved fluidly and her speech was slow and articulate. He found it surprising that a good-looking woman had chosen to use her brain rather than her body. A woman pilot. He had never heard of that before.
He did not accept her hand in greeting as this would only lower him to the status of a female. Instead he nodded and ascended into the private plane owned by the wealthy and influential real estate baron, Haldon Renalda. Haldon was also a member of their council.
It never ceased to amaze Samuel how far and wide his ruler's influence reached. He was truly a great man.
Samuel positioned himself at the rear of the plane, enjoying the luxury of the sumptuous cream leather and airconditioning which was a welcome relief after the humid weather of the tropics. He stretched his legs and relaxed only to be interrupted by an attendant.
'I have been instructed to hand this to you,' the young, well-presented man advised as he passed him a small parcel wrapped in inconspicuous brown paper. Samuel nodded and gingerly unwrapped the package to reveal an XREP Taser stun gun. It was a wireless prototype that could be fired from a 12 gauge shotgun. Attached to the base of the Taser was a note that detailed the time frames it took for vehicles to move about the Brooks City-Base and a tag that had five words written on it: 'Bring her to us alive'.
Samuel grinned in delight. He knew Ahaw wanted to use her as an example to the community, most probably as a sacrifice.
The thought of a sacrifice caused shivers of pleasure to run through his body. It was an amazing experience and something the entire community looked forward to. Everyone dressed in his or her very best, the men in simple cotton pants tied around the waist and a tight, sleeveless vest. The women wore wraparound skirts and oversized tie-dyed blouses called huipil. There was a feast of fresh fruits, rabbits, turkey and deer and sweet maize cakes for supper. A rare delicacy of cocoa and milk were supplied to drink. It made a wonderful change from their staple diet of agouti, plain maize, squash, beans and amaranth.
They were given the day off work and the men, women and children were allowed to mingle. The spectacle was a sight to behold with 600 people filling a cavernous room the size of the hangar he had just been standing in. They would chant and cheer as their leader ascended the forty steps to the ornate stone altar followed by the sacrifice which was led up behind him by five guards and tied down, their chest exposed.
Just before their heart was offered to the gods, the voices of the thirteen deities of the upper world could be heard voicing their approval from the roof and everyone fell to their knees in awe.
After the ceremony, they were allowed access to a large barrel of pulque (a thick alcoholic drink made from the sap of the agave tree) and could celebrate until the next morning.
Samuel exhaled in delight and took a moment to indulge in the memory as the plane took off down the runway. He was keen to continue his pursuit although he considered the word 'keen' to be an understatement. Ardent to the point of desperate more closely represented his true feelings. He felt like a hunter searching for his prey and he longed to get his hands on her. She would bring him great favour and he could almost visualise the applause he would receive in front of his people.
Samuel zealously clutched the Taser and drifted into a trouble free sleep as the plane reached its cruising altitude.
Very little bothered Richard! He considered himself to be a calm, sensible man who had always taken life one step at a time and it was for this reason that archaeology was a perfect fit for his nature. Delving into the past took considerable patience and he enjoyed spending months uncovering mysteries of the past. His only fear had been claustrophobic tunnels, caves and the insides of ancient tombs, but by forcing himself to face this trepidation as a young man, he had developed the tools required to deal with most occurrences, this one included.
When the door slid closed, locking them into a small, impenetrable room, he readily accepted his fate and was neither startled nor worried. Gillian was a smart girl and if anyone could get them out, it would be her. His faith in her was unwavering, but even he knew that not everyone was infallible. It was for this reason that Richard had no intention of sitting about and waiting for a rescue. The Mayans were smart people, but it did not take much intelligence to know that they were not the inventors of the metal cable and that the most likely thing stopping them from falling into oblivion was a rope, and an old one at that.
As soon as they realised they were entombed, the first reaction was one of amusement. They could not believe that a group of five highly intelligent individuals had been outwitted by a civilisation long since passed, but this soon elapsed as the full comprehension of their predicament and the confines of the tiny room, less than three square feet, brought them down to reality. Tempers began to fray with Fred and Redmond being the worst offenders, forcing Richard to bring order.
'Now, listen!' Richard raised his voice. 'No amount of squabbling is going to bring forth a magic genie to grant us three wishes and let us out of here.'
Julia saw the funny side of Richard's comment. 'You always did like Aladdin.'
'I think I could recite it backwards,' replied Richard, referring to the amount of times he had watched the film with his granddaughter. 'So, we need to stop acting like caged rabbits and find a way out of here.'
'It's not like I can see an escape hatch,' replied Fred, his sarcasm causing Richard to cringe. He never did have much patience for that boy.
'Well, it's quite obvious that we don't have any food or water and we could be trapped here for days. I for one have no intention of withering and dying like a sacrificial victim,' said Richard as Julia, Mitchell and Redmond replied with a 'here, here'.
Richard contemplated the situation at hand and did a mental calculation of the tools he had with him. As a rule, he had a large cache of equipment at the dig site, but he had always carried a small tool belt in light of his ageing years to save him the energy of running back and forth. He had investigated in a good quality, lightweight hiker's belt that contained a small hammer, chisel, tiny hand spade, Capewell retractable grappling hook and nylon rope for safety. A small torch with a set of spare batteries was also included and for which he was thankful. Unfortunately he did not have the one thing they required -- food or water.
'We should all empty our pockets and combine anything we may have with us,' suggested Richard.
Everyone agreed and they were able to put together an eclectic mix of sustenance bars, tissues, a couple of pocket knives, two mobile phones, pens and odd pieces of paper. Redmond also had a complete packet of jelly snakes that he had to give up.
'This is not looking good,' muttered Julia.
'I know,' replied Richard, frowning. 'All the more reason to find a way out.'
'Surely Gillian and Samuel will bring a rescue party,' said Redmond.
'I have no doubt, particularly as her father is a Major General in the United States Air Force. I would expect that he will be here as soon as he hears about my predicament. It is also possible that our rescue will receive media attention and we could be famous,' said Fred, the darkness covering what Richard knew would be a smug expression.
Richard remained silent. He did not want to dampen anyone's spirits, but the odds were stacked against Gillian. For one thing, there was no transportation from Tikal other than the vehicles conveying the tourists at irregular intervals, there was little coverage for mobile phones and he suffered a nagging distrust of Samuel. Something about him did not ring true despite his obvious knowledge about the ancient Mayan society. At first Richard had been unable to pinpoint the problem until he recalled the first time he knew he would become an archaeologist. He was so passionate about his chosen future that he ensured everyone knew about it. It was passion that was the key. Samuel did not have passion. He was mechanical, without feeling. The picture of the jackal, a dog not to be trusted, came to mind and he suddenly feared for Gillian. All was not well, but he was determined not to share his concerns with his companions and moved to another topic.
'Now, we have enough battery power here for at least four to five days, but we must use it wisely ...'started Richard as Mitchell intervened.
'I don't know if this is helpful, but when the door closed on us, I caught a quick glance of an inner wall. It was revealed just as the grate closed and the internal door sprang loose.'
'Well, what did you see?' asked Julia impatiently.
'Obsidian.'
'What ... the entire wall was obsidian?' asked Richard in amazement.
'I didn't see much, but yes, it seemed to be obsidian.'
'So, what does that mean?' queried Redmond.
'It means we're in a whole lot of shit. That's what it means,' snapped Fred as Richard called for calm.
'If Mitchell is correct, and I suspect that he is, there is the possibility of four walls of impenetrable obsidian, but we can't go on that assumption. We need to see for ourselves and the only way we can do this is to escape this room first,' said Richard.
'Well, that's bloody logical,' retorted Fred as an amount of shuffling, swearing and complaining at having to share two torches could be heard.
'It's rather stifling in here,' muttered Julia as she switched on her torch and began to study the wall paintings in detail.
'They're simply magnificent,' agreed Mitchell.
'Yes, but not as idealised as the usual Mayan work. These are far more natural, more representative of true Mayan life. Look at this one,' said Richard as he pointed to a lifelike picture of a child.
'What a beautiful child. In fact, the entire room is of the same person,' added Mitchell.
'Hmmm ...'murmured Richard, 'fascinating, but I don't really care at the moment.'
Julia snorted in disgust as Richard continued. 'I'm only interested in locating a way out.'
A shuffle of bodies revealed that everyone was once again focussed to the task at hand. The ensuring minutes were spent searching every nook, cranny and hollow, but to no avail. The room was supremely manufactured and reinforced, making escape through the side impossible. The floor had a slight crack which had allowed them to see into the darkness below, but this was of no benefit.
'Its bloody useless,' cursed Fred.
'I'd have to agree,' added Julia in obvious frustration.
'Well, the last time I checked, a room was made up of six sides. Four walls, a floor and a roof and as far as I can tell the roof remains unexplored,' suggested Richard, his voice full of sarcasm but with a humorous lilt. 'I need someone to give me a lift.'
Fred volunteered but was unsuccessful in hoisting Richard up the seven foot high gap, so Redmond and Mitchell combined their strength by forming a trampoline effect with their hands.
'Hurry up, Rich. Either you need to go on a diet or we need to find another way to do this,' complained Mitchell.
Richard ignored him and attempted to take a common sense approach to his dilemma.
To date the builder of this place had proved himself a fine artisan, so he saw no reason for that to change. Logic told him that the weight of the lift would need to be supported by the framework and load bearing corners. Any weakness or possible trapdoor would have to be away from these areas, leaving the centre as the most probable location. This was where he needed to search; so, with sore shoulders, a cramped neck and aching arms, Richard began probing the plaster in search of any obvious joins.
'Come on, Rich, I'm dying here,' grumbled Mitchell.
'Patience ... patience, my friend. I may have found something,' replied Richard as he detected a tiny ridge that had been painted over to conceal the difference in plaster heights. 'Pass me my small chisel,' he ordered as Julia handed him the tool of choice and he began digging. Richard knew that such glorious paintings should be in a museum, so it caused him considerable pain to be acting like the common vandal, but he ignored his discomfort and continued.
The breakthrough came two minutes later when the plaster broke and collapsed on the group below. They hollered at him in disgust, using expletives of all varieties, but to their credit, they did not waiver in their duty and continued to hold Richard until he gave a yelp of joy. 'I've found it! It's stiff, but I can open it.'
Richard expected a draft of air, warm or cold, but he received none. It was as stagnant outside the lift as it was inside, but he did not let this dampen his spirits. Using what little power remained in his arms, Richard pulled himself up through the hole and shone a torch about.
What he saw brought shivers of fear.
The lift was encased in a massive wooden frame held together with solid, interlocking wooden junctions resembling the dovetailed joints used in modern carpentry. These frames ran along each edge and formed an 'X' shape on all flat sides before running up to a square along the top four corners. A large, reinforced wood block on each corner of the lift held an impressive multi-plaited rope that extended skyward like a pyramid until it was halfway to the roof.
With the underpowered torch, Richard could just make out what appeared to be a solid stone with two hollowed centres. The rope extended through one opening and back into the other before shooting off through a tiny gap in the wall. Adding to his woes was the solid obsidian walls and casing the structure was fixed to. Even with specialised tools, it would be impossible to break through without risking the safety of the entire group.
Richard mentally went through his options. Climbing from the lift down to the base of the shaft was not a possibility. It was simply too far and they did not have enough rope. Climbing up was just as challenging and it did not take much intelligence to realise that the rope was probably linked to the Calendar Round that got them into trouble in the first instance. Gaining access was likely to be as hard as it was to uncover the code Gillian was seeking.
Still, something was bugging Richard. Notwithstanding the resin-coated rope that had begun to stretch was the fact that this tunnel was still man-made. In order for them to manufacture such a shaft, they must have had access. But where was the question.
The sun had barely crawled over the horizon as Adam kicked off his blankets and placed his purple socked feet onto the wool carpet. He gazed around his room and sighed. His room was reasonably clean, but he had painted it in various tones of creams and browns which was hardly creative. Even his high-backed timber bed and matching chest of drawers were shaded to suit the cream and brown striped curtains and bed linen. The rest of his small flat was much the same, only broken up by the lack of clutter, collection of books and three bright paintings in his living room.
Adam paused for a moment to consider the paintings. They were unique and by an unknown artist. He had an antique dealer appraise the paintings and the strange disk willed to him by his paternal grandmother after her death six years ago. Unfortunately, and much to his disappointment, they were unable to place the exact origin or allocate a suitable price. There was simply nothing on the market with which to compare them except that they eventually agreed on the Mayan heritage.
Adam had been fascinated by them and after months of determined research, he had discovered that each painting depicted a different Mayan landmark. One was a step pyramid in Palenque, another pyramid in Teotihuacán and the third was still unknown to him. Also present in each of the vibrant, sun-soaked pictures was the same man standing at the base of each of the buildings. Adam eventually concluded that his regal coloured garb and headpiece made him someone of importance, but who he was remained a mystery.
Adam shook off his early morning reflections and proceeded to rummage sightless around the top of his bedside table, knocking off an unwashed coffee cup and a Reader's Digest magazine before he located his semi-frameless glasses. He was short-sighted and would usually put his contact lenses on first thing in the morning, but it was still only 6 am and his eyes were grainy from the lack of sleep last night.
Tomorrow was the 27th of June 2009 and in his home town of Melbourne, Australia, it was the final school day for term two. He had been required to spend many late nights finishing the midyear reports for his grade six students and thankfully he had only one remaining. He had planned to complete that this morning.
Adam had been a teacher for twelve years and at the age of thirty-two, this was the first time he had taught anyone over the age of seven. In grade six, the average age was eleven and he found that he enjoyed the maturity that came with the older children. He no longer had to console crying kids, help them eat their lunches and combat temper tantrums. Even the fanatical parents who constantly invaded his office to criticise his teaching and ensure the wellbeing of their precious little ones had drastically reduced the frequency of their visits. It made for a pleasant change.
Although teaching afforded him a reasonable wage, it was barely enough to cover those unexpected bills that life threw his way and last week was the bearer of a beauty. He was thrown a huge curve ball when he was pulled over by the police and his vehicle declared unroadworthy. The local mechanic gave him a hefty account of three thousand dollars to repair the 1997 Toyota Corolla, leaving him gasping for breath and feeling like he needed to rob the local bank. Not that he was the sort of person to commit a crime, but he had no idea where to find the finances. Although that wasn't entirely true. He could approach his parents, but getting money from them was more painful than mowing the lawn.
Ever since they had learnt of his desire to become a primary school teacher, they had rubbished the thought and when his wishes became a reality, he was often belittled. His father had been a successful tennis player and his mother a golf pro. After their careers had finished, they both taught up-and-coming youngsters and referred to their work as 'an extension of their illustrious professions'. True to their characters, they both charged exorbitant rates for their 'exclusive' services and as such often jested at Adam's measly pay. Their ridicule at his expense hurt more than he cared to admit, but in the end he concluded that teaching children to read and write was far nobler than their endeavours. He simply learnt to avoid them where possible.
Therefore, when Adam concluded that he could not ask his parents to foot the three thousand dollar bill and he had to find the funds himself, one particular hexagonal shaped disk came to mind. He did not want to sell the paintings because of the enjoyment they provided, but the disk was of no significance to him and the obvious choice. He had pulled it from its box the previous evening and noted the finely crafted hieroglyphs, the gold and jade inner and outer trim and the precision with which it was created. It had to be worth at least three thousand dollars if not more. He proceed to list it on eBay for three thousand five hundred dollars as a 'buy now' price.
Reaching into his built-in cupboard, Adam grabbed a pair of black slacks, a creased but clean casual green shirt (he hated ironing), a brown jacket and his favourite RM Williams boots before quickly dressing. He hurried to the kitchen, stopping via the spare room to turn on the computer, and made himself a large mug of coffee and a slice of vegemite toast. He detested nothing more than the small cups he received at a restaurant, often finished before he had even begun to enjoy it.
The large hall mirror revealed that there some work required before he would look respectable enough to go to work this morning, but right at this moment he did not really care. He only wanted to know if someone had bought his disk, so he switched on the computer and waited until the familiar red, blue, yellow and green eBay symbol popped up in the top left-hand corner. Adam punched in his username and password, his eyes glued to the screen in expectation, in the hope that he was out of debt, but it was not to be. A big fat '0' shone depressingly in front of him. Not one person had placed a bid.
Adam swallowed his coffee in one large gulp. If it did not go today, he would have to lower himself and pay his parents a visit. He could see it now. The subordinate tone of voice he would have to adopt, the righteous pitch of theirs. Having to confess he chose the wrong profession, hearing about how great theirs are. Pleading for the money, being told they were doing him a great favour.
The thought of it made him ill.
Tossing his cup in anger against the vinyl clad door, he watched it shatter as it bounced onto the brown hall tiles. 'Shit ... shit ... shit,' he cursed in frustration as he jumped up and went to the laundry to collect the old broom and shovel, all the while running each probable scenario on the outcome with his parents.
He did not like any option.
Deep in deliberation, Adam disposed of his mess before proceeding to the bathroom to put in his contact lenses. He had just finished wiping away the resultant tears when he was interrupted by a shuffle at the front door. It was a faint sound that could only be detected with excellent hearing, something which Adam could boast to having. He glanced at his Casio wristwatch, noting that it was still only 6.30 am, much too early for the mail carrier or any visitors. Perhaps it was an animal or the tabby cat from next door that annoyingly chased the native wildlife from his front garden.
Dismissing the sound as nothing of significance, Adam turned back to the mirror and gazed at his reflection. He had olive skin and a dark, thick mop of hair. Unlike his parents who were both sporty and well built, Adam was wiry and thin. His height of five foot eleven also made him smaller than his six foot two father who often jested that he was someone else's son although old family photos had him as a spitting image of his paternal grandfather.
As a child, Adam had always been called a nerd and he supposed that was the image he still projected. His face was slender and clean-shaven and his slightly hooded hazel eyes were wide set. He had small but well formed lips, a boyish grin and small scar across his cheek from a cricket bat. But despite what he considered to be reasonable charm, he still had trouble finding the perfect woman. Perhaps he was too picky. His thoughts were interrupted again by another noise outside his bedroom window.
Adam's senses were suddenly on full alert and he was bothered by the fact that his bedroom window only sported a small ledge. There were no trees or other climbing apparatus near it to allow a cat or any other four-legged creature like a possum or mouse access. The logical explanation would have been a large bird, like a crow or a magpie, but the bang had been too loud, so he decided that it was time to investigate.
By nature, Adam was not easily afraid, but he was cautious, so he decided it was best to see what he could discover by peering up under the thermal-lined fabric. Lowering himself onto the floor, Adam slid across until he was positioned to the right of the window with his head just beneath the overhang. It afforded him the perfect spot and initially everything appeared to be in order, but within a couple of seconds a hand came into view. It held a tool that he recognised as a glass cutter, leaving no doubt as to the intruder's intentions. They were going to break into his home.
Adam crawled out as silently as possible and raced for the phone. He had intended calling the police but was restrained by an unknown hand that had just clamped itself solidly over his mouth. His first reaction was to struggle, but fighting was not his strong point, so he allowed his body to slacken and accept its fate, all the while his heart pounding furiously against his chest. To say he was nervous was an understatement.
'Shoosh, Adam,' whispered his attacker, the sound of a calm voice catching him completely by surprise. 'I'm not here to hurt you, rather to get you out of here before they break into your home.' His comment coincided with the shatter of glass in his room. 'But first we must get that jade disk. It's what they've come for.'
Adam turned and found himself gazing into the imploring eyes of a member of the police force. The blond-haired, blue-eyed young man smiled, and the look of genuine kindness convinced Adam to trust him, not that he had much choice in the matter though. He pointed to the drawer in the television cabinet which, when opened, revealed itself to be the proverbial junk drawer. On the top was a shallow blue box the size of a small dinner plate and inside an exquisitely carved disk. Adam nervously scanned the room, grabbing a hessian shopping bag from the nearby couch and throwing the disk inside.
Adam raced after the police officer down the short hallway to the rear door located in the shoe-box size laundry. It was still slightly ajar with no evidence of having been forced. Adam frowned. He wondered how the officer had gotten inside so easily, his query answered when the officer flashed the hair clip he was still holding. When this was over, Adam decided that he would buy an alarm.
At first Adam had expected that his rear yard would be inundated by intruders, but he was surprised to find it empty. The thieves had clearly made the decision to enter down the sideways, which allowed easy access to and from the busy road in which he lived. So many cars drove up and down his street that an extra one would not attract any attention even at 6.45 in the morning.
As he exited the house, Adam heard the squeak of the bedroom door and felt a moment of melancholy and regret. One part of him wished he had stayed to defend his humble abode, considering he knew they would ransack and break what little he owned.
'No need to worry. I've reported the intruders to the local station and they will be here shortly,' said the officer, grinning as he noted the distressed look on Adam's face.
Adam was very confused. The officer had reported the 'break and enter' before it had occurred. How could he have known that unless he was in with them?
Coming to a sudden halt, Adam was about to turn to the officer when a man garbed in a black ski mask jumped the fence, landing less than six feet from where they were standing.
Adam froze to the spot, his arms and legs stuck to him like glue. Even if he wanted to move, he didn't think he was capable; he was too scared. The man was pointing a gun directly at him, his demands to hand over the bag going unheard as Adam felt himself drift in and out of a trance-like state. He had never experienced anything like this in his life, and the sudden understanding of how fragile his life was scared the shit out of him.
After what seemed like an eternity, Adam cocked his head slightly to the left and noted that the police officer had managed to slip his hand unnoticed under his jacket. He realised in an instant that if he ducked, the officer would have a direct line of fire to the intruder. Adam dropped to the ground quicker than a lead weight, his actions stunning the intruder momentarily and allowing the officer to fire. The intruder died instantly.
'Hurry!' snapped the officer as they fled to the left side of the house and scaled the fence, dropping into the neighbours' yard as the further shots imbedded themselves into the wood only inches from where they were standing.
Adam raced after the police officer down a concrete path, through a garden bed and into a waiting white Holden VE Commodore before speeding off in excess of 94 miles per hour. He was left with no doubt that the officer was trying to assist him and was not part of the gang as per his initial thoughts.
The officer placed a siren on the roof of his unmarked car, the action distracting the pursuing black Chrysler, which dropped back quickly. It was one thing to chase an unknown person but to pursue the police would bring the full wrath of the force down onto the hunter, who could ill afford the attention.
Adam sank into the black fabric seats in relief as they sped past the beginnings of the early morning peak hour traffic and through the city. His mind was a blur and he felt as if he had been imbued by a full force hurricane. In the last half hour, he had been faced with his own mortality and then the death of another human being. He had seen a bullet penetrate a skull as easy as a knife cutting softened butter and the back of the head splatter like a watermelon all over his plants and garden seat. The final vision of his white iceberg roses and small garden table dripping in blood and brains had made him feel ill and even now his stomach still churned with the memory.
Adam lifted his head and gazed out of the window. They had travelled much further than he had first thought and he started to worry. The city was becoming a speck in the distance and it was very clear that they were not headed to the nearest police station. He started to wonder if his companion was a police officer at all. Perhaps he was another kidnapper after the disk that was quickly becoming a prized object. Adam gazed at the young man's face, wishing he could read his mind.
'Where are we going? I have students waiting for me today,' asked Adam, his words not sounding like his own. He found himself wishing he had given into his reservations and asked his parents for the money.
'Sorry, Adam. I have my instructions not to tell you anything until I get you to the safety of the headquarters,' and that was all he said until they pulled into the Point Cook Air Force Base ten minutes later.
The officer drove his car through the front gates and directly to the main command centre where they were met by a group of ten men in official uniforms. His companion exited the vehicle and hurriedly but confidently approached a daunting and hefty middle-aged man who stood at least six foot six. Adam was hesitant; the man looked imposing, but the quest for information overrode his desire to stay in the vehicle, so he climbed out and followed behind.
'Thank you Karl ... good job, and within the specified time too,' the formidable and evidently authoritative commander said to the police officer before turning his attention to Adam. Adam took a step back, feeling somewhat overwhelmed and inferior by contrast.
'Welcome Adam. My name is Air Chief Marshall Harris Barnes and I'm about to send you to America on board that plane,' and with that he gestured to a sleek F-111 only six hundred feet away.
'Fuck, you've got to be joking, Mate!' exclaimed Adam in disbelief. 'What for?' was the only sensible question he could trust himself to ask.
'It seems that disk of yours can save the lives of a group of archaeologists trapped in Tikal in Guatemala. Don't ask me how, but the call came from my good friend Major General Dale Bright from the United States Air Force. Anything he says, I believe. So, when he asked for an unknown school teacher stupid enough to advertise his name and that disk on the Internet to be flown to the United States, I agreed.'
Adam was speechless. It was as he suspected. It was the disk they were after and a moment of complete insanity -- or better described as desperation -- to sell the disk that had caused him all this trouble. He should have known that the disk was special and on top of it all, he had used his real name without thinking. If only his parents could see him now. They would be revelling in his humiliation.
'What if I say no? I'm not good at flying,' his words belying his true feelings. In reality, Adam had never done anything more exciting than attending the few gatherings his parents had insisted he attend. He had never travelled any further than Melbourne, partied with friends (probably because he didn't have any) or experienced an event greater than the odd movie at the cinema complex not far from his home. The thought of flying in that plane thrilled him but also made him weak at the knees in fear.
'Sorry, Mate. You don't have any choice,' directed Harris Barnes. The utter conviction and determination in the already compelling tone of voice left Adam no option but to comply. In one sense though he was relieved; he could not think of a suitable argument anyway.
'I presume you have the disk with you,' questioned Harris Barnes.
'Yes, of course.'
'Good. Just don't want to go to the expense of flying you without the precious cargo,' the comment leaving Adam slightly displeased. It was the disk that was precious, not him.
'Well, we're ready,' said a man who was clearly the pilot. He carried with him a helmet and suit which Adam hastily put on before being helped into the navigator's seat of the F-111. Adam's mouth was agape. He was not an expert on planes, but he did know that this one was a supersonic, long-range strike aircraft. It was seventy-eight feet in length and just under twenty feet high with a seventy feet extended wingspan. It was not a new plane, having been first built in the 1960s, but it could travel at twice the speed of sound and with regular upgrades. It was still the fastest and longest ranging combat vehicle in the Asia Pacific. It sported a targeting system that could locate targets in bad weather or at night and sported a radar warning system and laser designation for laser-guided weapons.
Adam held his breath as the plane took off, the first lift almost causing him to spew in his own lap. He attempted to study the complicated dials as a distraction, but this soon gave way to further nausea and bile burning the back of his throat. He also knew that he must have turned a ghastly shade of green by the amused look of the pilot who gave him the thumbs up and a wide smile. This was going to be a long flight.
Dale showed Gillian to a spare room reserved for the occasional guest to the base. It was comfortable but meagre, sporting a single bed, robe, chest of drawers, television and unsuited pair of leather chairs. Decked out in tones of muted cream, it was either very boring or relaxing depending on the opinion of the occupant. Gillian found it relaxing. She dearly wanted to read the journal they had found in the obsidian box but had held off until she had some peace and quiet, and this room provided the perfect surrounding.
She had slept for an hour in the helicopter but was forced awake by a bad dream that consisted of a dark, bottomless tunnel and suffocation. Gillian recognised it as being an imitation of what Fred, Richard and the others would suffer if they failed to make it back in time to save them. She was frightened for them, Fred in particular. It had taken such a long time for her to find someone she could share her life with and she did not know how she would cope if she lost him now. A small tear trickled from the corner of her eye as she lay back on the fluffy pillows and opened the vegetable fibre book.
Gillian's first impression was of a professionally bound but unadorned book that was reluctant to reveal its secrets. Her hands trembled in excitement as she flipped the first page and allowed her eyes to fall onto an ancient script that was not at all what she expected. It was written entirely in Medieval Latin with the number thirteen surrounded by a ring and highlighted in bold font at the top of the first page. She had no idea what the significance of the number was, but it was the font that had her excited. It was proof that this book was genuine and that Latin had permeated America before Christopher Columbus. It was an exciting find.
On initial observation, she noted that the script was refined and extremely elegant. It was also very small, almost as if the author was afraid that they would run out of paper before the story had been told. She eagerly began devouring the long forgotten narrative with an enthusiasm that took her by surprise.
Manuscript part one
I am dedicating this journal to my dear friend Yok Chac, for without him I am nothing. He is my one true friend. The only one I can trust to carry out my final plan. To Yok Chac I pledge my dying gratitude and love.
My name is Kinix. I am the son of a priest and noblewoman from the neighbouring city of Uaxactún. They were both taken by Ah Pach (death god) before the memories of my first years came into being. There is little left for me to discover of my heritage as I am the last of my line. Unlike other families, I have no one left who can tell me of my parents' thoughts, dreams or desires. Other than the small paintings that remain on the walls of the home that has long since been occupied by another family, no memories remain. In an exhibition of their kindness, I was allowed to be shown through what was once my hut and gaze upon what had been lost to me.
It was evident that my father was not a strong man, his slight features and weakness of soul reflected in his desperate eyes. I did not like the look of him. My mother on the other hand was a beautiful woman, refined and elegant, strong but slender. She had a glorious abundance of glossy black hair atop her head and a haunting set of hazel eyes. Her cheeks were full and high and her lips were small but well formed. She looked proud, confident and radiated with life. I too had the same oval eyes, lips and cheeks and I fancied that I looked more like her than like my father. At first I was fascinated, but as the portraits advanced the pictures changed and a marked sadness became evident in my mother's face. She lost her sparkle, her zest for life, and eventually she no longer featured at all.
I know from the death records in the Amatl (book made from the processed tree bark of the fig) held by the priests that my father was taken by Ixtab (moon goddess of suicide) to the upper heavens when I was three, but my mother's body was never located. It was presumed she accompanied him.
I suppose there was some ratification that my father took his own life. It is a brave and honourable act to end your earthly existence on the middle plains of being and ascend into the upper realm of the gods. It was also written that he was no longer in favour with the king, 'Chak Tok Ich'aak11', more fondly known as Bahlum Paw Skull, but he regained acceptance by slitting his own throat and offering his blood.
Apparently the priests found me sitting alone in my father's blood. They took pity on me and accepted me into their fold instead of giving me to another family who would have treated me little better than a common slave. I was raised with a firm hand and schooled in the arts of medicine, writing and the Mayan history, but it was not until the eve of my eighth birthday that I received a summons that changed the direction of my life. A minor wife of Bahlum Paw Skull had begun to labour with her unborn child and was progressing poorly. She was in need of assistance and the head priest, Kin Kawil (named after the sun god and the 'god of rulers'), had selected me to assist him. I was both shocked and frightened. I was considered advanced for my age, but I did not have the experience required to help in the delivery of a new life. It was an honoured event that should only be attended to by the head priests and I did not qualify. Kin Kawil thought otherwise and I was ordered to accompany him.
We quickly gathered the required tools and figurine of Ixchel (goddess of childbirth) before hurrying to the far right wing of the palace. Bahlum Paw Skull had been careful to keep his minor wives far enough away from his chief woman 'Lady Hand' but close enough for his convenience. We were ushered into a small private room where each wall was elaborately adorned with vibrant paintings depicting the amazing birth of many children and dominated by the deity 'Ixchel'. The floor was covered by a large, thin grass mat, woven into an open design to resemble maize plants. It was simple and light, allowing for easy removal and cleaning. There were several pots and a pile of beautifully embroidered cotton sheets stacked in the corner along with a mass of chichicaxtle cloth. In the centre of the room was a carved wooden bed that was raised at one end and flattened on the other. It had been made specifically for a smooth delivery and trouble-free access for the attendants.
If not for the screaming woman in the middle of the room, I would have admired the decoration more closely. I suddenly found myself fearful and nervous. I had never seen a woman writhe and thrash about in a manner that was akin to a dying sacrificial victim. Lamatna had an incredible terror and pain etched across her face as waves of agony overtook her. An attendant attempted to hold her down but to no avail, necessitating the aid of two more women who had been waiting outside the door should disaster strike.
The voice of Kin Kawil snapped me out of my morbid fascination and ordered me to grind up a mix of datura, candida and cacao bean into a paste to assist with the pain. I hurried to do his bidding and returned quickly to hand the thick brown paste to one of the attendants. Together they forced Lamatna to swallow the remedy, which proved to be very effective. In a few moments she had calmed considerably, allowing Kin Kawil to lift her wraparound skirt and examine the progress of the birth.
'Kinix, come here,' he ordered as I approached with trepidation. I had seen the birth of animals and studied the bodies of female sacrificial victims, but I had never experienced the beginning of a new human life. I was both anxious and excited.
I grabbed a plain piece of dampened chichicaxtle cloth and handed it Kin Kawil who peered between Lamatna's legs. I could see by the frown on his face that all was not progressing well and he soon snapped the words, 'Obsidian blade'. I quickly complied and watched with unmoving attention as Kin Kawil sliced Lamatna deeply between the birth tunnel and the anus. Lamatna screamed in agony, but the bindings that had just been placed over her arms and feet held her firmly to the bed. Blood ran thickly down the sloped base of the bed and onto the floor but Kin Kawil ignored the mess and plunged his hand deeply into the enlarged space and grabbed the child from within. On the next wave of pain Lamatna endured, Kin Kawil pulled the child from its mother. It was covered in blood, but it was alive.
Kin Kawil handed the child to me whom I held with trepidation. What an honour it was to be the first one to hold the King's son. I was so overwhelmed with delight that I almost dropped him as I passed him to an attendant. I then gave the revered priest a large vessel in which he placed the organ and still pulsing cord that connected the child to its mother. It would be prepared and presented to the gods as thanks for the safe delivery of the King's new son.
Upon the command of Kin Kawil, I passed a bone needle and thread of human hair to sew up the gaping wound which was smeared with the resin of the Balam shrub and dressed with the bark of the Bakalche tree. I knew from experience that these remedies would heal the wound within two to three weeks.
I had been initially overcome with apprehension, but I had handled the situation admirably for a child and to such an extent that I received praise from Kin Kawil and Bahlum Paw Skull himself.
The summons arrived the following day from the King's personal scribe and delivered to me by a trusted warrior. It was a beautiful, well-written document inviting me to the ceremony to celebrate the birth of the child and the subsequent sacrifice to the gods. My heart filled with pride even though this ceremony would be smaller than if the child was born of the principal wife 'Lady Hand' or announced as the royal heir.
It was some months later that the great holy King, a god to all men, invited me to his residence to attend the small injuries suffered by his family. My accomplishments and respectful manner soon made me a favourite and I quickly became a trusted physician. Even the King was pleased, his increased confidence in my ability leading him to request that I place myself in his company again tomorrow.
As I entered the glorious inner sanctum, Bahlum Paw Skull motioned for me to sit to on the mat of black jaguar pelt. I obeyed quickly and waited in trepidation until the King found it suitable to reveal his troubles to me. Even I admit that I was shocked by his unveiling. He wished to discuss the infertility of Lady Hand and I suddenly longed for Kin Kawil to be by my side.
As I understood, Lady Hand was twenty and they had been married for six years with no children. He was becoming increasingly concerned and found the topic of such a sensitive nature that it seemed I was the only one he could trust to keep his privacy. It was an immense honour for me and I had been pleased that I was able to rise to the occasion and recall my intense teaching on the subject. I believed it to be a disturbed flow of the ch'ulel (the life force that binds everything together) and this required healing before the body's physical ailments could be addressed.
With the guidance of my way (soul-animal companion) who took the form of an ocelot, I was able to suggest a combination of sweat baths to purify the body, abdominal massage and cacao to improve bodily functions. Initially my remedy worked and Lady Hand fell pregnant within six months only to lose the unborn child before it had taken on its human form. Despite the failure, I was treated like a friend and honoured guest as it was my doing that the pregnancy had actually occurred. I assured Bahlum Paw Skull that I would study the situation more thoroughly and come up with a suitable answer although I warned that there may be a malicious deity at work trying to separate Lady Hand's physical and spiritual body. I would need to pray on the matter and chose the most suitable plants to assist.
The following few months did not prove fruitful and I was beginning to doubt my skills as a healer until a group of travellers entered Tikal.
It was a very steamy afternoon and the entire population of Tikal had taken a break from their professions to escape the heat. The insects were buzzing around and there was little movement in the surrounding forest until a cry came up from the road the led to the city of our distant neighbours, Teotihuacán. Many people flocked to the street as a group of ten individuals struggled towards the large central marketplace. Their unfamiliar appearance drew wary looks and the cautious Mayans did not offer assistance even though it was clear the travellers were on the verge of collapse.
For the first time in my twelve years, I felt ashamed of my people. I suppose this came from being a healer and learning tolerance of all Hunab Ku's creatures. I appealed to three of the King's warriors whose respect for me surpassed their prejudice of the unknown and they quickly moved to assist, offering their arms in support.
By this time, Bahlum Paw Skull had learnt of the arrivals and had stepped from his palace. He looked like the god he was, glittering in his pure white robe and golden headpiece. I resisted the urge to fall to my knees in respect, fully aware that each Mayan would follow my lead and further endanger the lives of the strangers who required urgent medical treatment. I could only pray I would be forgiven for my indiscretion.
True to his greatness, Bahlum Paw Skull did not even mention my error, insisting that the strangers be taken to the guest wing of his palace. My respect for him had increased beyond what I thought possible. I humbly bowed as I passed through the corbelled arch and into the chamber adorned with friezes, murals of Tikal at war and red and orange swag curtains. In the corner stood a large vase full of quetzal feathers and on the bed lay three jaguar pelts to provide extra comfort. It was truly a magnificent room usually reserved for the lords of the neighbouring provinces.
Two women, three men and a skinny boy about my age sat cross-legged on the floor mats while the remaining four men sat on the bed. My first belief was that they were traders from Yucatan Peninsula selling amber, turquoise, salt or shells, but they lacked the typical Mayan clothing and showed no evidence of the usual ear piercing or adorned teeth favoured by the Mayan women. They also spoke with a strange accent that I was unable to place with any certainty.
My thoughts were interrupted as Bahlum Paw Skull entered the room and acknowledged one of the men with a raise of his royal hand. It was a rare practice for the King to lower himself from his god-like status to the level of a stranger, but the return smile from the visitor confirmed that they knew each other.
'His name is Suya Chan. He is the prince of the "City of Gods"(Teotihuacán), a direct relative of Spearthrower Owl (a king of Teotihuacán who reigned between 4.5.374--9.6.439 AD) from whom I'm also descended. He needs to be treated as you would care for me,' ordered Bahlum Paw Skull. I nodded in reply, lowering my eyes in respect and immediately began unrolling my bandages and preparing my medicines.
The men and women had bruises, broken bones and were lacking water. I ordered a drink of mixed herbs and cacao to help with weight gain and a meal of easily digestible boiled maize and cassava. Kin Kawil manipulated the bones whilst I went to the boy. He was desperately underweight for his height and at first I thought he suffered from the same afflictions as the rest of the group but, his malnutrition was far more advanced than I had anticipated. It was evident from the protruding bones, taut skin and hollowed eye sockets that he had been without nutrition for many months. He was gravely ill and when prompted, he was unable to talk with any clarity.
'We found him wandering the road without aim. We do not know who he is or where he came from although the jaguar tattoo on the upper right arm suggests he is of royal blood,' offered Suya Chan.
'I can care for him at home,' I suggested as the King nodded his approval and the guards carried him for me. The following two days went quickly as I gave him a mix of cacao and deer milk every three hours until his dark eyes and his irregular skin had started to clear. The swollen, bleeding lips and mouth ulcers that were impeding his speech had begun to absolve and I learnt that his name was Yok Chac. He was short for his age, with an honest round face and solid limbs. He had a wide pointed nose, small ears and heavy eyebrows and was the son of the Zapotec king of Monte Albá n. He told me that his family had been murdered by a rival town and many of the craftsmen and lesser nobles fled to Teotihuacán for protection. Yok Chac had been kept hostage and was scheduled to be sacrificed to the gods when he had devised an escape. Unfortunately his weakened state meant that he had made it only as far as the trade route and collapsed due to extreme exhaustion where he had been found by Suya Chan. It became evident that the wounds suffered by the visitors were the result of their fight with the pursuing Zapotecs intent on recapturing Yok Chac.
I learnt a lot about Yok Chac through those successive days. He had been raised with all of the privileges of the elite, but his father had been cruel and manipulative, imposing firm rules that he expected his family to follow without question. Any misdemeanour was punished by whipping or forced solitude and Yok Chac had a network of interconnecting scars across his back, buttocks and manhood. The pain he had endured at the hand of his father provided a survival instinct that allowed him to remain calm and determined during the chaos, and whilst his family had their hearts torn from their chests, he had escaped through the hole he had fashioned during the times of solitude. I was amazed at his resilience and told him this, receiving a smile of thanks in return.
When I reflect on it, this was the one defining moment of our friendship, the beginning of it all. I had shown Yok Chac respect and he had acknowledged my kindness.
Three days later, Tikal was host to a magnificent celebration honouring its illustrious guests. They were entertained by skilled musicians, choreographed dances by people in jaguar, deer and monkey costumes, a number of richly clothed dwarfs telling humorous tales and a complete re-enactment of a distant victorious war. Three criminals were sacrificed to the gods and the almighty Bahlum Paw Skull ordered a feast to the likes that I had never seen before. There were platters of deer, rabbits, wasp larvae, manioc, pumpkin filled tortillas, maize bread, plump avocado, breadnuts, honey flavoured atole, more fruit than I had ever seen in one place and luxuriously shaped chocolate pieces. It was a ceremony to remember.
The following four years flew by very quickly with little changing in our illustrious city. A previously agreed trade arrangement between Tikal and the 'City of Gods' that involved swapping salt for obsidian had been a success, but the needs of our neighbour had outstripped supply. There were stories of increasing famine and displeasure at their leader's ability to provide food for his people, which led to a growth in sacrifice. In a bid to beg for assistance from the gods, a greater number of people gave up their lives for the good of their community, but little had been forthcoming.
In our own city, the continuing infertility of Lady Hand was a subject of much displeasure for the King. The child I had helped bring into this world had died two years previously from a spider bite, leaving Bahlum Paw Skull without any trace of his blood to leave on our earthly planet. It was with a heavy heart that the King had decided to find a new principal wife. I knew that this decision did not come easily to him as he loved his wife and unlike his forefathers, he did not hold a steady group of minor wives for his pleasure. In my time with him there had only been two lesser wives, both of whom had died.
As part of our continuing agreement to assist the 'City of Gods', Bahlum Paw Skull had reluctantly agreed to marry one of their two royal princesses. Whilst this did not improve trade it would improve the 'City of Gods' standing and help promote their good name. I felt it was a good decision although I admit to being shocked when the king chose me to collect her as a representative of Tikal. What an honour although I did admit to suffering from a small amount of trepidation at being separated from Yok Chac for the first time in seven years.
When Yok Chac had first arrived in Tikal, Kin Kawil had housed him in a room next door to my own. At the time I was both glad and irritated. I had become so used to my solitude that I did not know how to cope with the constant intrusion of another person my age. I underwent moments of anger at being followed continuously from the study room to the kitchen and out into my favourite garden, but I quickly adapted and gradually learnt to enjoy the company of another who could relate to me on the same level. My tolerance of him grew as did my understanding that he was in a place that he was unaccustomed to. He had lost his home, family and friends and although he was not treated with kindness in his own homeland, it was nonetheless familiar to him.
Increasingly my pity transformed to an acceptance and eventually an agreeable friendship. I soon found myself asking him for his opinion on certain topics and valued his often intelligent and insightful responses. Yok Chac also had a sense of humour originally quashed but allowed to flourish in Tikal and much to my dismay, we found ourselves scalded by Kin Kawil for misbehaviour. Still, we had developed a strong bond that I had come to depend on and enjoy. He had become my best, and only, friend.
\*\*\*
Gillian climbed off the bed to pour a glass of water. She had been so enthralled by the story of Kinix that she barely realised five hours had passed since she had first opened the journal. She quickly swallowed two paracetamol tablets to ward off any adverse reactions to sleep deprivation and was about to recommence her fascinating story when her father walked into the room without knocking.
'Just had some news from the personnel I sent to Tikal. The room containing your friends is actually an ancient variation of a modern lift and whilst we are unable to get inside, our GPR system (Ground Penetrating Radar) was able to detect some interesting sub-surface images. It appears that the lift is free-hanging on a very old length of twine.'
'Fifteen hundred years at least,' concluded Gillian quietly.
'Yes,' agreed Dale as he continued, 'The walls and roof of the shaft are made from a solid sheer rock -- most likely obsidian -- and the depth of the vertical passage is one hundred feet from top to bottom. It is impossible for us to dig our way in and split the rock without risking the rope breaking. On top of that, the lift is hanging five to six feet from the face of each corresponding side, making it almost unachievable to reach. In short, any attempt we make to enter from the top or sides will most probably end in disaster.'
'What about the bottom? You didn't mention anything about that,' said Gillian desperately. She had hoped they could save them without the need to unravel the ancient mystery that may prove impossible to solve.
'Our GPR has revealed that there is a subterranean tunnel that interconnects with the shaft, separated only by a slab of rock which I would assume was a door. It is my presumption that it will be a coded door in the same manner as the entrance, probably leaving us with no option but to use explosives. It's just too risky.'
'You might be wrong. It could be a simple obstruction,' said Gillian, realising she was fast running out of options.
'Perhaps, but by the time we cart the tools required to dig the hole and complete a full excavation, it's going to be too late anyway,' said Dale with an expression of sympathy. 'So, if I were you I'd continue reading. It's going to come down to you and the boy from Australia,' noted Dale casually, his flippant demeanour causing Gillian frustration.
'Oh, and the Australian will be here in an hour or so,' concluded Dale as he marched out of the room and pulled the door determinedly behind him.
Gillian sank despondently onto the bed and fingered the diary thoughtfully. She desperately hoped it contained the information required to save her fiancé and friends, but it was looking to be a far more arduous task than first thought.
Despite his best efforts, Richard had been unsuccessful in locating an escape route and sorely felt the trials and tribulations of his investigations in his ageing muscles and bones. In normal circumstances, Richard was considered reasonably fit and energetic, but the combined mixture of heat and lack of fresh air had sapped his energy. He was frustrated and angry and to make matters worse, he could see the ropes that stood between life and death visibly stretch and fray. The fact that the 1500 year old ropes had remained intact at all was testimony to the ancient Mayan manufacturer and the lack of corrosive weather elements.
In order to keep up spirits they had spent a few hours learning about each other and telling tales of adventures. Richard had been surprised to discover that Mitchell had a passion for spider collecting, Redmond was a Stars Wars fanatic and Fred admitted somewhat sheepishly that he liked housework which caused Julia to clap with approval. Richard contributed to the discussion by revealing his lesser known love of the Shakespearean era including works by Shakespeare, and Irish beer, but it was his quick succession of jokes that had the group in stitches.
Julia even managed to entertain everyone with her surprisingly good voice and they all sang for a while until exhaustion took over and sleep beckoned.
Redmond woke first with his young keen ears picking up the distant sounds of digging. 'Richard, there's someone out there. I think we're being rescued.'
Richard heard it too, quickly making out the distinctive whine of a commercial borer. Over his years in archaeology he had often seen these large machines take core samples of deep, ancient soils and ice. These were used to determine the age of certain areas of the planet and had recently assisted in mapping the earth's cycle and project the course of global warming.
Why they had one here was a question he wished he could answer. His only fear was that someone would be silly enough to dig them out.
Julia grabbed Richard's hand in a quiet show of understanding. He noted that she was shaking and Richard knew it was likely that Julia was fearful of dying too soon. They were both young at heart and had many good years ahead of them which they had hoped to share with their children Sophie and Evan and their beloved grandchild Eva. Their daughter-in-law, Frances, was six months pregnant with their second grandchild and they longed to see this new addition to their family.
'It'll be fine, love,' he whispered.
'There is no possible way that they could know about the obsidian. Even if they did, what is the chance that they are aware of the condition of the rope? We will die in this hellish place,' complained Fred as Mitchell elbowed him in the ribs.
'Shut up, will you. If they were going to dig us out, they wouldn't be using a borer. They would be using an excavator.'
Fred scowled which Richard ignored. 'Shoosh, I am trying to listen,' said Richard as he heard the machine close slowly in on their position. He was suddenly optimistic. A borer is capable of a much greater speed than being demonstrated at present which allowed Richard to hope that they were aware of their predicament.
The minutes passed slowly as everyone waited in trepidation! No one said a word as the drill moved in on their position until Richard detected the machine slow slightly and come to a stop. A soft splutter was heard and a small shudder vibrated down the rope and into the lift.
'Quickly, lift me onto the roof,' ordered Richard as the men hurried to hoist him up through the gaping hole.
He took the opportunity to check the rope and noted to his dismay that the join where the four ropes intersected had continued to deteriorate at an increasing rate. He estimated two days at best. Sighing in frustration, Richard lay on his stomach and shone the torch at the wall directly opposite from the original entrance. At first nothing was visible, but persistence paid off when a metal pipe appeared from the hole in the wall and pushed outward towards the lift.
Richard immediately understood the intention and quickly calculated that the pipe would strike the lift almost halfway up, around the same position as the obscure painting of a doubled lined square that Julia was viewing earlier.
'Julia, give Mitch your hammer and chisel. You need to dig a hole into the wall right where my torch is shining,' his determined voice not giving them any room to argue.
Within moments the pipe was pushed across the gaping abyss and into the gap they had just created. Richard knew without a doubt that the accuracy shown in inserting the pipe meant that their rescuers were using GPR, which explained their actions. They understood the gravity of the situation.
Wrapped food bars and tiny bladders of water quickly fell out of the pipe and the little group gave a cheer of delight. Their situation had somewhat improved, but Richard's good humour was drastically diminished. The fact that they were delivering food instead of getting them out did not bode well. It usually meant that it was going to be a long wait and the one thing they didn't have was time.
With spirits improved, everyone became more talkative, but Richard remained silent. Julia instantly picked up on his mood.
'What's wrong?' she asked as she nudged him gently. 'I've spent most of my life with you, Dear. I know you better than you know yourself, so there's no point in keeping secrets from me.'
He knew that she was right. 'The rope holding this lift is disintegrating quickly,' said Richard, purposely raising his voice so everyone could hear him.
There was a lengthy pause.
'It doesn't matter anyway. We'll be saved before then,' said Redmond with delight in his voice.
'I would like to think that is the case, but we all know that they cannot breach this obsidian wall without risking even greater trauma to the rope. By delivering the food and water, it means they want to buy time. There is every possibility we will be dead by the time they discover a way out.
'I'm sure Gillian will be here before then. She never lets me down,' added Fred who sounded as if he was convincing himself more than anyone else.
'Gillian is a wonderful woman and I know she will do her best, but our situation is quickly becoming a disaster. We need to save ourselves,' concluded Richard.
'No disrespect, Sir, but the last time we looked, you were unable to find anything to help us. What makes you think that will change now?' asked Redmond.
'Richard has escaped a tomb in Egypt, a catacomb in Rome and an underground temple in China. If anyone can get us out, it will be him,' said Mitchell as Fred coughed in a manner that could be construed as defiance.
Richard shone his torch directly at Fred. He considered himself a patient, even-tempered man with a great sense of humour, but he did not tolerate rudeness. He was prepared to give Fred a piece of his mind when the torch caught the shape of the double lined square he had seen earlier. It was as if someone had just flicked a switch on in his brain. This tunnel was also square.
With renewed vigour, Richard moved to the panel in question and studied the picture with great consideration. The measurement between the inner and outer squares was comparative to the distance between the lift and the tunnel. The eye shape in the middle made no sense, but the drawing also consisted of two dots followed by the traditional hieroglyph for Tuun (stone). This was followed by the hieroglyph for hand.
Richard tried to interpret it: 'two stones per hand. What could that mean?'
'A hand every two stones, but that doesn't make sense either,' mused Mitchell.
'It's a good thing that every team has a smart woman,' laughed Julia. 'The hand impression is neither an open hand nor a fully formed fist. It is somewhere in between. More like a hand hold. The two dots followed by the Tuun means "every two stones". My interpretation of this little diagram is that there is a hand hold on every second stone, but it doesn't stop there. If you look at the next diagram,' Julia moved to the right, 'we have the same painting, but the Tuun is replaced by "Tok" which means "flint". This time there are three dots and the hieroglyphs meaning "room". I think there is a flint room, or tool room, behind the third stone.'
'The only problem with this is that there are no stones. It has all been covered by obsidian,' said Fred.
'Yes, but the shaft was constructed by human hand and there must have been a way for the craftsman to make his way up and down the tunnel,' concluded Richard. It agreed with his previous thoughts on the matter.
'If it helps, these hieroglyphs are against the upper wall depicted in the paintings, which would correspond with the west wall of the tunnel. There is also a distinct needle-like, hollowed stone in the centre of each tunnel that faces to the north.' Julia pointed to the small eye shape in the middle of the pattern. 'If we can find what that needle-like stone is, we will be able to get our bearings,' added Julia.
Richard smiled to himself. He knew exactly what the needle-like stone was. It was the rock that held the rope. He could not believe he had not made the connection himself. Trust Julia to figure it out first. She was always quicker than he was and the smug look on her face was typical of her expressions when she knew she was right. Richard grinned at her and requested another lift onto the roof.
Samuel parked the taxi in a side street only a short distance from the Brooks City-Base. He had driven around the unfamiliar area for over an hour until he had gained his bearings and located a position that afforded him the best view of traffic leaving and arriving at the base. His goal was to wait until the vehicle carrying the woman was halfway between the compound and the gate before moving from his parking spot.
Samuel grinned as he viewed the interior of the taxi.
He had wondered how he was going to make his way to the base until he had spotted the lone cab waiting for a passenger outside the airport terminal. It was a master stroke on his behalf as travelling about in a taxi would allow him to move easily without promoting suspicion -- an ideal arrangement.
Samuel approached the taxi with stealth. He noted that it was occupied by an elderly man who was around sixty years of age. He sat slumped in his seat, clearly on the verge of exhaustion after a long shift. His face was tired and lined and he looked depressed.
Initially Samuel had envisaged sliding into the taxi and slitting the throat of the driver before pushing him into the passenger seat and taking control, but for the first time, he felt a twinge of guilt. In his home, the elderly people, particularly ahaw, were revered for their knowledge and the strong beliefs they provided. This man, although belonging to the lower plains of existence was nevertheless an old man. Samuel decided to be nice to him and upon entering the vehicle, he placed a gun to his chest and ordered him to get out. The old man quickly complied but was struck by an oncoming vehicle in his haste to get as far away as possible. Samuel did not know if he lived or died, but it was of no concern to him; it wasn't of his doing.
The time was closing in on 10 am and by his reckoning the woman must have made it to the base before him. There was no movement at the headquarters, but that did not overly bother him considering the woman could not stay in there forever. He was a patient man and if the ahaw desired the woman then he would oblige even if it meant waiting. So, he settled himself into the driver's seat in preparation and was just about to pull out his binoculars when a plane flew overhead. He was taken by surprise. It was not an American fighter jet as he expected. It was Australian.
Samuel's interest climaxed. This was most unusual. If the Australian Prime Minister or someone else of importance was to visit America, it would be via a passenger jet. For a two seater F-111 to enter America so far from its home spelt 'emergency' and Samuel was keen to find out the reason. He contemplated driving a little closer but feared that may draw unwanted attention. It would be better to go in on foot.
Samuel climbed out of the taxi and was just about to leave when his phone rang. It was his esteemed Ahaw.
'Plans have changed, Samuel. It seems that a greater treasure has been located.'
Samuel could hear the hysterical excitement in his voice.
'We have located a genuine jewel-encrusted Calendar Round in Australia. It is arriving at Brooks City-Base as we speak.'
Samuel smiled. He had seen the plane.
'I want that disk, but more importantly I want it all, including the treasure we know exists at the excavation site in Tikal. I do not want to jeopardise any part of it. Success is what you must achieve.' Ahaw paused.
'Your task is to enter the base, find Major General Dale Bright's office and gather as much information about Tikal you can find. Leave the Calendar Round to me. I have a couple of my best men on site for that'
Samuel was about to ask why the men could not gather the information at the same time but decided it best not to question the wisdom of his ahaw. The very thought of second guessing him meant that Samuel would need to offer blood for his sins.
'The information must be faxed to me at once,' Ahaw ordered as he hung up the phone.
Samuel dared to wonder what would happen if there was no information about Tikal in the General's office.
Samuel sighed as he pulled out the needle for the second time in two days and pushed it into his penis, taking care to avoid the previous insertion site, which was still quite tender. He proceeded to finish the ritual in record time before zipping up his pants and crossing the road. From previous surveillance, he had already determined that the weakest link was in the fence on the western boundary. It was well covered by trees that would allow him to move unseen into the region of the outbuildings.
He kept low and guarded, stopping every few minutes to ensure he had remained undetected, until he reached the patch of evergreen trees he had seen on the surveillance. He was extremely pleased to discover that the associated fence had suffered previous damage from falling branches during a storm and the repairs had been adequate at best. Samuel easily crawled through the created holes accidentally encasing his body in a mound of freshly cut grass which he decided to leave as a kind of camouflage. Luck was on his side and he prayed to Nohock-Ek (the planet Venus) to give him guidance as he made it to the storage room undetected and proceeded to make his way through the six consecutive sheds and exiting behind the main building.
It was here that Samuel caught the movement of the men arriving at the main building from the Australian plane. They were walking across the tarmac with a confident swagger except for a dark-haired man who lagged uneasily behind. He appeared unsteady on his feet and stopped regularly to catch his breath, making it evident that he was the Australian carrying the holy disk. Samuel had an insane moment of wanting to shoot them all and take the disk, but he dared not infuriate Ahaw any further than he already had.
He ducked quickly behind a yellow sedan and waited until the men entered through the rear door.
Reacting almost instinctively, Samuel shadowed the men, pausing quickly to place a stone in the doorjamb before waiting to hear their voices fade down the hallway. Once he was confident they had distanced themselves, he crept cautiously into the building and followed the crevices until he reached the kitchen. It was strangely quiet which caused him concern until the sound of a trumpet echoed throughout. Samuel smiled at the realisation that the troops had gathered in the central courtyard, giving him an opportunity he could not miss.
Samuel grabbed a cooks apron to provide an excuse should he be caught and proceeded to tiptoe along the photo-adorned hallway until he had safely passed the utility rooms. The rooms within the headquarters ran in order from the lowest ranking to the highest and he simply had to follow the names until he found the one that stated 'Major General Dale Bright' on a bright silver identification tag.
Samuel pushed open the door and viewed the sparse but regal room with disgust. The wood cabinetry was rich and expensive, the carpet plush and the curtains extravagant. It was far more suited to someone of Ahaw's stature than an air force general.
Samuel closed the door behind him and was instantly drawn to the wall left of the door. It was covered in medals of valour and for one brief, traitorous moment he realised that Dale Bright had been honoured for his services to his country. He was akin to a gallant soldier fighting for the survival of his people, a man who did his own dirty work instead of ordering others, like his ahaw. A fleeting moment of anger bubbled in Samuel's chest before it was quelled by the slam of a nearby door. He was furious; he had dallied and wasted precious time instead of following the commands given to him. A failure here would mean the loss of his life and more importantly, the loss of the disk.
He moved quickly to the desk and immediately noticed various photos and laser images of Tikal. He was no expert in the field, but pointers scrawled in neat black pen indicating the shaft in which the archaeologists were trapped and a connecting tunnel at the base, sent shivers of excitement up his spine. Another passageway could mean only one thing: the shaft and elaborate trap must have been designed to conceal something of great importance ... treasure.
Ahaw was right about the treasure all along and would be pleased with confirmation of his judgement. Contemplating the admiration he would receive on deliverance of this new information, Samuel felt as if he would explode with joy. He would receive a feast in his honour and if he was lucky, a piece of the treasure as a keepsake to recognise his loyalty. Goose bumps of excitement ran over his body and he was in the midst of enjoying his forthcoming fruits when a set of heavy footsteps disrupted him. He was suddenly overwhelmed with an emotion that was unfamiliar ... panic. Samuel scanned the room but noted that there was little in the way of suitable hiding spots, so he ducked under the first thing he could find -- the desk.
The door opened and Samuel watched in absolute fear as a pair of black shoes strode purposely to the desk, paused for a moment and turned to retreat from the room. He let out a huge sigh of relief as the lock clicked shut and he clambered out of the cramped position as quickly as possible. He had to leave before he was discovered. It would ruin everything if they found him.
Samuel grabbed whatever he could, including a few photos and other nondescript documents. He did not have time to sort out what he really needed. He could do that later.
The hallway was clear, but he could hear raucous voices echoing down the passage in the direction he had entered. He had seconds to make his escape.
Samuel exited to the right, passing a room which contained the woman he did not want to name for fear of giving her an identity (he was much happier loathing her) and her father in deep conversation. He longed to capture her and take her as a trophy, but he had just made a critical mistake by indulging in his hatred. He had paused for too long and Dale Bright looked up at the same moment that Samuel stopped.
Dale scowled and reacted immediately, racing for the door as Samuel leapt into action. Samuel made a split minute decision to go back the way he came, knowing he would meet with hostility but also understanding that it was better to deal with a familiar route than arrive at a dead end.
Running headlong down the commercial grade grey carpet, Samuel heard Dale yell after him. He did not look back, extending his stride to his maximum capacity and forcing his way through a group of four men. They were so surprised that they did not take action until Dale's furious expression signalled the severity of the event. They joined the chase.
Samuel knocked two people over, punched a young woman for standing in his way and tossed three bags of luggage into the face of his pursuers. He could not stop them. They kept coming and as Samuel forced his way to the exit, he prayed to the gods that the yellow sedan he had seen on his arrival was still idling in the driveway. It was, and to his delight it was driverless.
Samuel jumped in and put the car into gear as the officers opened fired into the back windscreen and rear tyres. They shattered the glass and succeeded in splitting a wheel in two, but this did not stop Samuel who slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped down the driveway in record time. The vehicle was a mess, leaving a thick plume of burning rubber in its wake, but it worked in his favour, concealing him from his pursuers long enough to pull into a nearby car park.
He thanked the gods once again for giving him guidance and the intelligence to stake out the surrounding roads. His taxi could be easily accessed by jumping the fence and running through the small playground, which he did just as the trailing cars flew around the corner and pulled in next to the trashed yellow Chevrolet.
Samuel easily escaped, stopping at a local post office fifteen minutes later and faxing to his ahaw all of the documents he had collected along with a couple of photos. On his heading letter, he apologised for not sorting them out, but he thought it best to leave it in the knowledgeable hands of his ahaw to judge what he did or didn't need.
\*\*\*
Dale Bright surveyed his desk with disgust. He could not begin to comprehend the events of the last few minutes. This person had brazenly entered and ransacked his office whilst he had been only feet away and was most likely already in the room when he had come to collect his wallet. The lack of crime in this area had caused a lax attitude amongst the men and Dale also admitted to stupidly leaving his office open from time to time. It was bad enough that the GPR images were missing, compromising the security of his men in Tikal and the trapped archaeologists, but he had also lost the photo of Reynata. Even worse was that he had written her address on the back. He had effectively handed her back to the very people she had escaped from.
When they had first found her it had been discovered that she had been dumped, presumed dead, and she had been placed into protective custody for her own wellbeing. It was not known if she had represented a threat to them and as it turned out, she was unable to recall much of her time with the sect anyway. Over the years she had been either unwilling to help Dale break the ring or was simply too petrified. He presumed it was the latter. Despite this, it stood to reason that the group would not know that she had been unable to provide assistance, logic telling them that she was an unacceptable risk to their organisation. She simply knew too much and they would undertake to nullify her as soon as possible. Dale had been left with no choice but to abandon his daughter and travel immediately to her home town of Austin.
Gillian was shocked that Samuel had followed them to the base and gained access with such ease. Surely an American air force base would be the recipient of top security, the lack of which totally surprised her. Her father was a stickler for rules and regulations even going to the extent of locking up the photos of her as a child in case someone misplaced these precious items.
It was for that very reason that the uncommon sloppy safety measures, like leaving his office door unlocked, was totally out of character. Perhaps he simply had too much on his mind, her theory supported by his hurried and unexplained departure to Austin. She had attempted to question him, but the familiar furrowed brow and pleading look of understanding clearly told her this was an important mission for him. She let him go with a nod of acceptance, quite used to his unexplained exoduses.
Gillian was also puzzled by the objects Samuel stole. He had gone to great extremes to obtain the GPR images and the photo of Reynata, the only explanation being that he was aware of the possibility of treasures in Tikal ... but why Reynata?
It was all very odd, but it did indicate a connection between the tattoo on her neck, the Calendar Round arriving from Australia and the strange trail of clues left by a priest called Kinix.
Gillian considered the matter of Reynata for a moment. Why was it that she felt there was much more about the woman than her father was telling her?
Yes, the tattoo was rare. Yes, there was a connection with the Mayan society and her father's explanation of her involvement in the drug ring, but her photo had been in his drawer. He never left photos in his drawer unless they were of great value and importance.
For shit sake, there was only one photo of her, his only daughter, on his desk.
She frowned and left the room to seek any information she could on the robbery.
Unfortunately the intrusion had caused mass chaos at the headquarters, rendering Gillian's attempts to gain any further information useless. There were simply too many people running around trying to determine the course of events to submit an accurate report to the government for them to answer her seemingly insignificant queries.
One thing was quite clear though: Samuel must have had inside help. There was no way he could have located them and travelled the distance he did without a private jet or helicopter. In the time they had journeyed from Tikal to San Antonio to Houston and back, Samuel had managed to get himself to San Antonio and locate them. She was not even sure if he was behind the helicopter bombing in Houston, which would mean that he must have prior knowledge of their activities and friends in high places.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, Gillian's thoughts diverted to the Australian they were expecting.
If there was a sinister operation at work, the departure of her father could leave Adam and the Calendar he was carrying overtly exposed.
She cursed her father at that moment, suddenly understanding that she was the only one who could effectively protect him.
Gillian leapt into action as the adrenaline surged through her veins. She pushed her way through the crowds, tapping her pocket as she went, comforted that the tile, Kinix's diary and Calendar drawing was securely in her large pocket.
She ran from the mess hall to the kitchen and even to the male bathrooms, looking and listening for his Australian accent, but his location eluded her. It was complicated by the fact that she had no idea what he looked like and ten minutes had passed before she received a lucky break. The pilot of the Australian F-111 was still here and when she approached him, thinking he may have been Adam, he directed her to the centre courtyard. Gillian pushed her way passed a couple of grumpy kitchen hands who swore loudly at her and rushed frantically through a pair of French doors and onto the spotlessly clean cobblestone paving.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Gillian laughed as she caught sight of herself in the mirrored doors. God, she was a mess. The last twenty hours had taken its toll and she looked pale, exhausted and with her uncombed red hair, something akin to a fairytale witch.
She managed a wry grin in spite of herself and gazed at the only men in the small paved yard. There were four of them seated on a stone bench to her right. Their uniforms indicated that two were lieutenants and one was a corporal. The plain-clothed man wearing a pair of black slacks, untidy green shirt and brown jacket was so out of place that he virtually screamed the words 'alien'. He looked extremely uncomfortable and totally out of place.
He was the one she was looking for, but how was she to get him out of here all the while convincing him he was in danger and getting him to trust her.
It was a tough call but she had no choice; failure was not an option.
Gillian calculated the situation. She did not know the men surrounding him and she had no idea where her father's appointed custodians were. They would not appreciate her just walking up and insisting he leave with her. It would be too suspicious. She knew what to do, but the thought of pretending to be a seductive, half-witted woman made her feel sick; her true nature was the total opposite.
Gillian sighed, smoothed her hair, unbuttoned her top just enough to reveal cleavage and swaggered towards the men with as much confidence as she could muster. She felt like a fool, but the glimmer of interest and wayward expressions assured her of their interest. She hoped her twitching right eye would not give her away.
'Hello ... my name is Jilly.' Her decision to use Richard's pet name was made to give them the comfort of familiarity and not to alert them to her true attentions.
They all smiled at her.
'I would like to guess by your accent that you are the Australian we're expecting. Welcome, Adam, although this is probably not the greeting you were hoping for,' said Gillian, gesturing to the racket inside the building.
'Thank you. It is a little chaotic,' he said, his voice emitting an unusual twang that was not totally unpleasant.
Gillian sized him up. He was good-looking in a skinny kind of way. He had a generous mop of dark brown hair, intelligent hazel eyes and a boyish grin. She guessed him to be in his early thirties and not the adventurous type, although she had a sinking feeling that was about to change.
'If you have time, I would like to extend an offer of hospitality and buy you a drink. It's the least we can do after dragging you so far from your home,' offered Gillian as she flamboyantly and blatantly interlocked her arm with his and encouraged him to follow her. She did not meet with any resistance from Adam, although the corporal's expression darkened considerably. He was not happy and clearly the one to watch out for.
'I would think that would be my responsibility,' interrupted the corporal, his sharp, eagle-like features and glaring grey eyes flushed with fury. Gillian pretended not to notice and used all of her womanly wiles to her advantage, even bending forward to give them an eyeful of cleavage.
'Thank you for you kind offer, but I'm sure he'd appreciate the company of a woman,' she said as she winked at Adam who looked a little flustered but did not argue.
Gillian forced her laughter to be easy and joyous. She wriggled her hips, juggled her breasts and waltzed back into the mess hall with Adam in tow.
She was disgusted by her behaviour, having to continually reassure herself it was all for a good cause.
Gillian directed Adam to the very busy and well-populated bar, ideal for a temporary cover, and noted that Adam was watching her with a mix of interest and curiosity. There was no expression of disgust at her brazen antics or anything that could be considered demeaning. If anything, his gaze was weirdly comforting.
Gillian took the opportunity to introduce herself.
'Adam, my name is Gillian. I am General Dale Bright's daughter.'
Puzzlement crossed his face.
'Look ... I know you do not know me but first I must assure you that I am not as dumb as I look.'
Adam chuckled. 'I know. You may have had those men convinced, but the expression on your face as you forced your hips to move in a way that was completely unnatural was quite amusing.'
Gillian bit her lip. He read her like a book.
'Okay. I'll just get to the point.'
Adam waited.
'You are in danger and I need to get both of us out of here. I know that you have no reason to trust me, but I am telling you the truth. We do not have much time,' she implored, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutiny as he considered her comments.
A moment past before he replied. 'I may lack the intuitive skills of a female, but I'm well aware when things are not as they should be. In ten hours I have had my home robbed, flown in a supersonic jet and found myself ambushed by a group of untrustworthy men who tried too bloody hard to be my friends. I'm more than happy to come with you if you are who you say, but I was under the impression I needed to help save the archaeologists,' said Adam in a rolled speech that was calm and impervious.
Gillian was caught off guard by his intuition and stared at him in respect. 'Yes, it's my fiancé and friends who are trapped in Tikal. I will tell you all about it when we get out of here. You will just have to follow my lead and keep smiling,' said Gillian who was quite taken back by Adam's agreeable nature.
Adam responded by grinning widely and pretending to talk about a nondescript picture on the wall.
As quickly as she could without raising an alarm, Gillian hurried Adam through the labyrinth of halls using groups of people as cover. She knew they were being pursued, occasionally catching the reflection of the faux corporal behind them, but Gillian had an advantage. As a child she had spent many lonely hours at this base. She knew every nook and cranny backwards and recalled a particular day when she tripped over a trolley in the kitchen. She had hit the wall quite hard, but instead of landing on the floor, the panel had moved and she slid down an old unused rubbish chute into the cellar. After the initial shock passed, Gillian gained confidence and explored, discovering that the cellar had a rear door positioned only feet from the officers' private car spaces.
As a child it gave her a place to play. Now it proved to be her salvation.
As the ominous footsteps hurried through the adjacent kitchen, gaining on their position, Gillian ushered Adam into the large commercial kitchen and pushed against the old panel. She held her breath, knowing that it had been unused for over twenty years, but to her relief it swung upwards as quietly as the day it had been made.
'Get in,' she ordered.
Adam hesitated until he heard the hunters slam their way into the kitchen.
They both leapt in together and held their breaths.
The slide was steep and fast, delivering them onto the floor of the cellar with an unceremonious jolt complete with an arrangement of spiders and various animal parts that called the slide home.
Gillian gasped but did not delay. She grabbed Adam's hand and with the absence of light, led him sightlessly through a maze of unused wine barrels, crates and broken wine bottles.
'It's a good thing we can't see where we are go'n',' said Adam as a crunching sound reverberated from under his foot.
'Bones.'
'Ah ha,' agreed Gillian as she stepped up the pace, reaching the exit door at the same moment a light flicked on behind them.
They bundled into the blinding daylight that streamed between two large pylons supporting the roof of the car park. To their left was the exit and to the right, a row of privately owned vehicles.
It took a moment for Gillian's vision to clear before she was able to tow Adam unceremoniously towards her father's Mercedes Benz and locate the spare key on the inside of the back wheel hub he left in case of emergencies.
This was such an emergency.
Gillian jumped behind the wheel. 'No offence, but Aussies are far more adept to driving on the wrong side of the road.'
'The left side of the road is not the wrong side.'
Gillian grimaced. She had hit a nerve.
'No, but I know these roads better than you.'
Adam conceded with a nod as the Mercedes roared to life and carried them out of the compound in record time.
A black Chevrolet appeared in the rear-view mirror as Gillian veered left and planted her foot, forcing the Mercedes through a set of red traffic lights. The Chevrolet followed, swerving and sliding past oncoming vehicles as horns blared ferociously.
'Shit, they're gonna catch us!' shouted Adam as Gillian approached another set of lights and once again failed to adhere to the traffic rules. The cars facing the green lights screeched to a halt in a desperate bid to avoid an accident but failed as the Chevrolet was like a spanner in the works. It caused three cars to spin sideways and pile into each other in its wake. Two more burst into flames which made a spectacular sight. .
Gillian gasped. She sincerely hoped that no more people had died indirectly at Arun's hand.
'Bloody idiots. It seems they want you more desperately than I had anticipated. That disk you're carrying must be something special,' cringed Gillian as she rammed her foot on the accelerator. This forced the vehicle sideways between two street posts and up onto the footpath before ramming a newspaper stand and merging safely back into the traffic.
'Shit hot driving.'
'I take it that means my driving's good in Australian!' shouted Gillian as the black Chevrolet loomed large, forcing another vehicle off the road and into a brightly flowered garden bed.
'Bloody right, Mate,' Adam laughed as he corrected his language. 'We'll have cops on our tail if we don't get out of here.'
'Don't you think I know. I just can't shake them,' snapped Gillian, scowling as she slowed the vehicle down and entered a one-way alley. It was a tight squeeze and she lost considerable paint against a set of metal stairs that projected past the regulated standard. The Chevrolet fared little better allowing her to make a sizeable gain which awarded her a moment to gather her breath amongst the gun shots that ricocheted off the boot lid and tail-lights. Unfortunately the police had also received news of the chase and the sirens were heard long before they pulled in behind the Chevy as it exited the alley moments after Gillian.
Gillian completed an abrupt U-turn, once again forcing oncoming traffic to come to a halt, only this time she was going with the flow and managed to use the peak hour to her benefit. Although she did not increase her distance away from their pursuers, neither were they able to catch her and she did have one thing to her advantage. As a child she had lived in this area.
Gillian thought quickly. It had been many years ago and her memories were old and distant, but she did recall a small bridge that had served as a hiding spot for the local children. It would be ideal, but she just could not remember how to get there.
They passed a small shopping strip with the black Chevrolet less than fifteen car spaces behind and the cops taking up the rear at about the same distance.
Gillian gazed about, frantically trying to locate a landmark or anything that would jolt her memory, but nothing came to the fore until a distinct red letterbox in the shape of a house brought a smile to her face. In all these years it still looked the same. Small windows, grey roof and a large door that had 'Mail' written above it in gold. It had not changed.
She wrenched the steering wheel 180 degrees to the right and screeched into the side street before aiming for a vacant block of land on the opposite side of the road.
Gillian's whole life flashed before her eyes as she realised just how much she had underestimated the assassin's desperation for the disk Adam was carrying. She was also aware that they would take their lives in an instant and she had no choice but to escape. With images of Fred, Richard and the others flashing before her eyes, Gillian forced the car to a new speed and took a leap of faith.
Adam yelled.
Many years ago this block backed onto a small narrow stream with a flat bank hidden by large reeds and overgrown trees. Anyone looking down onto it from the vacant block would be met with a view of water but no indication of how far away the opposite side was.
Gillian was praying that it had not changed.
Sweat poured from every area of her body and her heart felt like an unleashed Rottweiler. It pounded so ferociously against her ribs that she fully expected to hear cracks of breaking bone at any minute.
Adam looked as if he had already died.
The car flew into the air, fighting the natural force of gravity with all of its might. It held true and steady, bouncing with a jaw-breaking jolt in amongst an overgrown jungle of narrow-leafed bushes.
It remained intact with the engine running.
'Wow!' exclaimed Adam, gasping for the breath that was forcibly expelled from his lungs.
Gillian fared little better but forced her brain into action. Time was precious and she had no doubt that the Chevrolet would find another way around. She placed her foot on the accelerator and gently fed the car through the weeds and dirt. It responded immediately, catching the firm ground with the front tyres and pulling the rear along like a train until all tyres obtained traction.
They sped through the overgrown reserve noting that the Chevrolet was surrounded by two police cars in the vacant lot preceding the small stream. They were not coming after them -- for the moment at least.
Gillian followed the edge of the park until she hit an old abandoned railway line and manoeuvered the vehicle in behind the partially collapsed bridge. It was low lying and well protected, affording them some time in peace.
Neither of them knew what to say. They were exhausted and drained.
Gillian broke the silence by offering Adam a drink from the small bottle of water her father carried in the car. He accepted gratefully whilst they took a moment to rest. Gillian was the first one to speak.
'I'm sorry today has been hard on you, but it is possible that the men who broke into your home would have killed you to get to that disk. It was simply good luck and good fortune that our people got to you on time. Unfortunately time is the issue and we're very short on it.'
'I understand and know this is important, but you'll need to forgive me if I'm a little worn. It's hard to comprehend the proceedings of this day and I still feel like I'm livin' a dream ... or nightmare. I'm not sure which yet.'
Gillian squeezed his hand.
'At least you're not on your own. We're in this together.'
Adam nodded in contemplation as he undid his jacket and removed a hessian bag that had been firmly fastened over his shoulder. He handed it to Gillian. 'I suppose you need this.'
Gillian glanced at him and accepted the offering with a sudden rush of nervousness. Her hands were shaking. She knew what was in this bag and to a layman, this disk represented nothing more than a pretty object, but to Gillian it was much more. It was a piece history of such importance that most archaeologists would pay to be in her position right now.
She lifted it out with care and gazed in wonderment.
It was round, about sixteen inches thick and quite light in weight. It had a hollow hexagonal centrepiece with an inlaid obsidian strip and six round two inch holes on the fascia sitting directly above each side of the hexagonal. Gillian visualised the ruby at the entrance in Tikal and was extremely disappointed to note that stone was considerably larger than the centre of this Calendar. It could not possibly be the key she had hoped.
A wave of frustration washed over her and she hit the seat in anger. She was back to square one.
'Not as you expected?' queried Adam.
Gillian sighed and shook her head but continued to study the artefact regardless. The fascia was completely covered in brightly hued hieroglyphics that were carved individually to different heights, giving the whole surface a multifaceted and lifelike look. Gillian turned it over and was surprised to discover that the reverse side, which was traditionally plain and flat, mirrored the front in decoration and creativity. Combined with the missing interlocking panel, she could only conclude that this piece was purely ornamental.
Gillian did not know what to make of it and was doubly confused by the deviation from the traditional hieroglyphics. She needed help. Normally she would go to Richard for his advice, but in his absence the local library was the next best thing.
Gillian looked up to see Adam staring at her. She found it amusing and had trouble wiping the smile off her face.
Adam blushed. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to stare, but I was fascinated by the look on your face. It was like a child seeing a kangaroo for the first time,' apologised Adam.
'Kangaroo,' laughed Gillian, 'that's hardly the same thing as holding this. This disk is every archaeologist's dream.'
'Why? I still have no idea what's so important about it. To date no one has told me why I was dragged halfway across the world other than to help save some archaeologists.'
Gillian did feel a little guilty. Adam had every right to a reasonable explanation, so she started the car and began to explain.
'Five days ago, I received a call from my dear friend Richard Deinhart inviting me to an archaeological dig in Tikal. Of course I had to go. To be asked by Richard is a great honour not easily turned down. My fiancé Fred decided to accompany me as he always does.' Gillian huffed slightly in frustration before continuing. 'They had discovered a tunnel under a fifth century home which indicated potential treasure, and in our excitement Julia, Richard's partner, inadvertently pressed what we now know was an elaborate trap to catch anyone attempting to gain access.'
'Trap? What was it?' queried Adam.
'The Mayans used to calculate days on a calendar system called the "Calendar Round". It is the same as your disk but not as ornamental and was always accompanied by a smaller, interlocking disk, a little like the movements in a watch. It was one of these Calendars with an unusual ruby stone centre that Julia pressed. A gate followed by a wall sealed them immediately into the rear of the passage. I was lucky to be on the other side with Samuel.
'Didn't you try to get them out?'
'My father scanned the area with a GPR system and we have determined that the vertical tunnel they are sealed in is made of solid obsidian. Any effort to break it will cause the fragile rope holding the enclosed platform to snap. They would die instantly. On the closure of the gate, Richard managed to pass me a small tile he had found on the inside of their chamber. It was the key to opening a box he discovered in the city of Teotihuacán which we later learnt contained a drawing of this disk and part of a diary,' said Gillian, losing her train of thought for a moment while she overtook a slow moving semitrailer.
Adam waited patiently for her to continue.
'It was at this time that we located your ad on eBay, but it seemed that our adversaries had also discovered your existence.'
'I presume it's stating the obvious that their intentions are not as noble as yours. I wonder that they want with the disk,' murmured Adam.
'It's an icon for their cult and they may want it for purely symbolic reasons, but my main concern is to find out how this disk will help me get my friends out of that hellhole. Originally I had thought that your artefact was somehow connected to the one in Tikal, considering they both had a hexagonal centrepiece, but that was not the case, so I was hoping you would have additional information about it that may be useful.'
Adam grimaced. 'Sorry. I inherited it from my grandmother's estate six years ago. We weren't close, so I have no idea how she came to own it. I only know that it was a family heirloom,' replied Adam regretfully.
'That's disappointing,' murmured Gillian as they pulled into the San Antonio library, parked the car and headed for the main entrance.
Adam followed Gillian into the large rotating doors. He felt out of place. He did not consider himself a dumb man, in fact quite the opposite, but she overwhelmed him. She was not classically beautiful, but there was something about her. She radiated a confidence borne of self-reliance. It reflected in her clear skin, unusual green eyes and even her walk. She was also intelligent, something which he greatly admired although he found himself electing to stay quiet instead of making a comment that could be construed as silly. It had been many years since a woman actually made him care how he sounded.
He was also quite tired. His last ten hours had been a whirlwind of activity and he was having trouble staying abreast of the unfolding events. Still, he had to admit to being both intrigued and curious as to how the next twenty-four hours would unfold and was not unhappy about spending the time in Gillian's company.
To be polite, Adam walked with Gillian to the division that stocked ancient languages and waited until she was seated before making a beeline for the espresso machine. He was dying for a cup of coffee, sensing he was going to be in need of many more before this quest was over.
Adam stood at the counter, contemplating which coffee to buy. He did not know Gillian well enough to make a suitable decision, so he went for the safe option -- the cappuccino. He grabbed a couple of sugars and eagerly paced along the parquetry flooring until he reached the small alcove Gillian was studying in. She was surrounded by a pile of books and seemingly intent on her work until he approached. Gillian looked up and smiled. 'Thanks, Adam, but how did you pay for that? You don't have any money?'
'The pilot handed me a few bucks before he left,' responded Adam as he placed himself habitually on the other side of the table as he would in an Australian classroom.
'Don't sit over there. I could do with your opinion on this,' she said as she swept her hand casually across the paperwork.
Adam was surprised. Archaeology was her area of expertise. He had no idea what benefit he could add to the process and feared that he would end up making a fool of himself. Nevertheless he appreciated the offer and moved as close to her as he dared.
Gillian had three research books and the drawing of his disk in front of her. He noted that each book was a compilation of Mayan hieroglyphs, none of which he recognised. He frowned uneasily and Gillian caught his expression out of the corner of her eye. She chuckled at him although it was not a laugh of defamation but one of genuine amusement at the face he had pulled.
Gillian spoke first.
'The key Richard had passed to me opened a solid obsidian box with a drawing of this disk, and a diary. I think it's safe to assume that the diary and disk belong to the same person who built the shaft. The shaft depicted drawings of a priest, further confirmed by the "holy symbol" we found outside in the diggings. The diary, although written in Medieval Latin, is also of the same vintage. The author is a priest called "Kinix".
'There must have been clues in the diary?' queried Adam. 'Perhaps there's something you missed.'
'No, I don't think so. At first I thought it was complete, but when I opened it to recommence my reading, I realised that the last few pages were blank with the exception of a series of detailed illustrations. The diary is about the early life of Kinix. There's no mention of a disk, tunnel or anything remotely relating to our current predicament, and on top of that, I've had no luck deciphering your Calendar.'
'Perhaps we need to go to Tikal and see if there is something you've missed.'
'No, all of our resources are here. We need to work it out now whilst we have the opportunity,' replied Gillian confidently.
'Okay, let's start over. Let's have another look at the diary,' suggested Adam as Gillian viewed him doubtfully but conceded. Adam could see by the squint in her eyes that she did not like being second-guessed, only choosing to give in because of desperation. She had spirit, but she was not rude and Adam liked that.
Half an hour passed and they were no closer to locating anything remotely useful in the book. Gillian had patiently given Adam an abbreviated version of each page ending at the last page where a number of black-and-white drawings became visible. They were both frustrated and Gillian offered to shout the next cup of coffee whilst Adam sat and contemplated what he had just learnt.
He flipped the last couple of pages and considered the drawings. They were detailed but no more than rough sketches akin to the current day doodle although there was something strangely familiar about them that Adam could not put his finger on. The more he looked at them, the further the answer slipped from his reach. He was tired.
Gillian returned with two cups of strong lattes and four Mars bars. Adam smiled gratefully. She seemed to know exactly what he wanted -- loads of sugar and caffeine.
He appreciatively sipped from the disposable paper cup and took a second look at the drawings. It was right there. The answer was at his fingertips and he was becoming angry at his inability to see it. Gillian patted his shoulder in empathy as he experienced a welcome and unexpected rush of clarity. The drawings were rough versions of his paintings at home.
He could see it now, the same pyramidal structures, complex backgrounds and general perspective. Only the vibrant, funny little man was missing.
'I know what these are!' shouted Adam in excitement, receiving a look of disapproval from the passing library assistant. She pointed to the 'silence' sign in reiteration of the library rules.
Adam ignored her, something he wouldn't have done yesterday.
'What?' asked Gillian eagerly.
'These drawings are copies of three paintings I have hanging at home.'
'What paintings? You never mentioned anything about paintings before,' snapped Gillian in a mix of frustration and excitement.
'I didn't think to. I had no idea that they were of any great significance. I tried to get them appraised once, but the valuer had no idea what they were or who painted them. The only thing we could agree on was the Mayan heritage.'
'So, where did you get them from?' quizzed Gillian.
'Along with the disk, they were the only items I inherited from my grandmother. Everything else went to my parents,' said Adam bitterly.
Gillian laughed. 'I detect a note of animosity in your voice which leads me to presume she was rich and left you with no money.'
'It isn't bloody fair,' smarted Adam, knowing that he sounded like a spoilt child but not really caring.
'Well, you may just have the last laugh. Don't you get it? You have irrefutably connected the disk with this book. That in turn links these items with the passageway at Tikal. I hope those paintings are in safekeeping.'
Adam's face fell. When he left his home yesterday, it was about to be robbed. He had no idea if they were still on his wall in one piece. He wanted to lie and say yes, but that would be of no benefit to him.
'My house was broken into yesterday and an attempt made on my life.'
'And most likely by the men who are after the disk now,' concluded Gillian, her crestfallen expression mirroring Adam's own thoughts. It was unlikely the paintings were still there.
'Well ... all is not lost. You have your memory. Let's see what you can recall,' said Gillian, her look of disappointment quickly replaced by optimism. Adam found himself spurred on by her enthusiasm and continued quickly.
The three paintings are identical to these drawings except they are brightly coloured and there is a strange little man at the base of each picture. I know from my research that two of the pyramids come from Palenque and Teotihuacán, but I was unable to locate the third,' offered Adam.
'Hmmm,' murmured Gillian. 'I didn't look closely at these before, but the background indicates that this first picture must be the Olvidado Temple. This is particularly interesting considering it was first thought to be constructed by their great king Pakal who ruled for sixty-eight years from the age of twelve until his death in 683 AD. We now think that the Olvidado group may be the site of the first royal families of Palenque, predating Pakal by up to 600 years. This may confirm that the temple existed in at least 500 AD and may have only been redecorated or restored by Pakal.' Gillian paused for a moment before moving onto the next drawing.
'This one is a little harder to work out as the drawing is less detailed, but it's my guess that it's the Temple of Masks in Uaxactun twenty-five miles north of Tikal. I can understand the valuer's confusion as Uaxactun is not a well-documented site. Added to that is that this temple was recently uncovered by archaeologists who removed the unstable late classic temple that was built over it.
Adam listened, intently fascinated by Gillian's knowledge.
'The third I would think is the Pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacán built about 100 AD. In Kinix's diary he refers to Teotihuacán as the "City of Gods" which would make sense as the name "Teotihuacán" was given to the city by the Aztecs some two hundred years later'
Gillian paused momentarily as Adam interrupted. 'I thought you told me that the obsidian box with Kinix's diary and drawing of my disk came from Teotihuacán.'
Gillian eyed Adam with an expression he could only describe as dumbfounded. 'Bloody hell, Adam, I think you're onto something.'
Adam dared not speculate for fear of saying something silly, so he simply waited for her to continue.
'Look, we have three paintings and three drawings, all of which correspond with each other. We know that Richard uncovered part of the diary and drawing of your disk at the base of the Temple of the Sun in Teotihuacán, so one would automatically conclude that the remainder of the book is spread between these other locations!' squealed Gillian, her face flushed and arms flaying in excitement.
'A little like a treasure hunt,' replied Adam as he ducked under one of Gillian's hands.
She grinned apologetically and placed her hands in her lap. 'So, what do you think?' asked Gillian.
'It makes sense, particularly if this Kinix character is a priest. His assumed intelligence would automatically allow us to conclude that it's unlikely he would hide only part of his works for the fun of it. It also leads me to wonder if the person in my paintings is Kinix himself or a friend,' mused Adam.
'Hopefully the paintings are still at your home for us to find out,' added Gillian before continuing. 'I only need to discover what this disk says.'
'Did you not say that Kinix wrote the diary in Medieval Latin? The only reason I can think for him to do this is to safeguard it if it was discovered,' concluded Adam.
'See ... you do have brains,' giggled Gillian, her teasing smile causing him to blush. 'I agree with you, but the icons on the disk have nothing to do with Latin.'
'Perhaps not, but what if Kinix used his own hieroglyphics to write in Latin instead of using straight Latin script. I'd reckon that if you look at the back of the tile you used to open the obsidian box, there will be an arrangement of hieroglyphics your professor was unable to translate.'
'Oh my God. You are too good to be true,' replied Gillian in astonishment, her look of genuine admiration causing Adam to squirm uncomfortably in his seat.
'Let me try this again,' she muttered to herself as she translated the hieroglyphs one by one and coming up with a sequence of letters that meant no more to Adam than the scribble of a prep student.
Comitoraridep meusaum digitusim adeoireiiitum imprimus ductulus were the first letters she wrote, followed by: Comitorari dep, meus-a um, digitusim, adeoire-ii-itum, imprimus ductus-us m and eventually broken down into: 'Follow my finger to first face'.
'We would conclude that he is referring to the Temple of Masks in Uaxactun, but I fail to understand what he means by "follow his finger". That is no help to me at all,' sighed Gillian, her face screwed up in a look of exasperation.
'I reckon I can assist with that,' replied Adam as he pointed to one of the pictures. In that particular painting the priest is sitting on the ground but facing sideways. Directly behind him is a carving of a mask he is pointing to.'
'Then Uaxactún is our next destination,' replied Gillian as her mobile phone rang loudly, causing them to jump at the unexpected intrusion.
'Bloody 'ell, Mate,' cursed Adam in fright, his Australian slang causing Gillian to grin.
It was General Dale Bright on the phone and he spoke solidly for two minutes before Gillian was able to interrupt long enough to request the use of an aircraft to fly them to Uaxactún. He could tell by the smile on her face that he had agreed.
'My father rang to tell me that his men in Tikal have managed to drill a small hole through the obsidian and insert a pipe into the suspended room. This has allowed them to drop a few water bladders and a number of sustenance bars to my friends, but my father is concerned. The lift has dropped which means the rope has started to fail. They've calculated the amount of stretch by the weight and determined that they only have forty-eight hours remaining. He will continue to monitor it and will keep us informed, but in the meantime, he assured me he would arrange our transportation.'
'I suppose we'd better get a move on if we're driving back to the base,' said Adam as he closed the books and threw out their scribbled waste.
Gillian grabbed his arm to stop him. 'Someone will pick us up from the roof.'
Adam gestured upwards, indicating the library roof and she nodded.
They hurried to the elevator, intent on making their way unimpeded to the top floor, but Gillian turned at the last moment. Adam could tell by the surprised look on her face that she had just seen someone she recognised and her look was not one of delight.
'Hurry. We don't have time. Take the stairs.'
Adam did not need any prompting. He ran.
Gillian was in front of him and they sprinted up the stairs two at a time, pausing only when a door slammed not more than thirty seconds behind.
The footsteps were closing rapidly and Adam did not think they were going to make it until he made a last-minute decision to toss one of the library books into the face of their pursuer. The surprise bought them just enough time to escape onto the roof and climb aboard the waiting helicopter.
Georgio Catalino smiled as they boarded. 'Need a lift?'
\*\*\*
Samuel was furious ... no, he was more than furious; he was livid with rage. This was the second time the woman had managed to thwart him. Ahaw was not going to be happy, but his leader's failure to obtain the Calendar Round from the Australian at the air force base gave him some gratification.
Something else was also on his mind and the more he considered it, the more troubled he became. If his ahaw was an almighty god, why had he not predicted the failure of his chosen men at the Brooks City-Base? Gods were supposed to be all seeing, but it seemed that his ahaw was not.
Samuel pushed his deliberation to the back of his mind in favour of locating the destination of his targets which he would require before ringing Ahaw and requesting transportation.
He scanned the library and decided that he needed to enlist the help of the librarian. If anyone had seen them, it would have been her. His only concern was that he would be required to come up with a convincing story and acting was not one of his strong points.
Samuel approached the librarian and took a deep breath before spinning a tale of flat tyres, long lost friends and the hope that they had left him a note.
She fell for it and directed him to the alcove they had been sitting at.
On his first inspection, Samuel came up empty, but a second sweep of the area revealed a stray piece of paper lying near the bin. It was just what he was hoping for, the rubbish revealing two intelligible words amongst dozens of doodles and undecipherable letters. The words were Uaxactún and Palenque.
Dale sped desperately along the narrow streets of Austin, throwing caution to the wind. Any attempt to keep to the speed limit had long been breached and he had undoubtedly amassed a sizeable collection of red-light camera fines. He ratified his actions by reminding himself that Reynata's life was in his hands.
The safe house was only two streets away, but the distant police sirens sent chills of fear through his body. He sensed that he was already too late.
Dale floored the accelerator and spun the car sideways into the one-way street. He straightened the steering wheel and screeched to a halt directly in front of the small, nondescript brick house. Two police cars were already in attendance and he noted a body bag on the front lawn. His heart leapt into his throat as he clambered from the car and ran through the neat garden to the first officer he could find.
'My name is General Dale Bright. I'm looking for the woman who lives here.'
'I'm not sure, Sir. We only received the report of gunshots half an hour ago and there are two bodies, both of whom are women. You'll have to speak to the boss,' gestured the young man as he pointed to a bald-headed officer busy writing a report.
Dale approached the officer of African American descent with trepidation but introduced himself with outward confidence and a strong handshake. He learnt many years ago that respect got him a lot further in life then insensitivity and rudeness.
The man replied by acknowledging him with a return handshake.
'I'm looking for the woman who lives here,' Dale repeated.
'We have two women, but we have yet to determine which one is the owner of the home. Perhaps you can help us with the identification.'
'Yes of course,' replied Dale. Years in the army had hardened him to the often gruesome nature of death, but it was not something he enjoyed. Seeing the passing of others reminded him of his own mortality and he took his hat off to doctors, forensic scientists and all those who dealt with the dead on a daily basis. It was not a job he could do.
'Both women were shot dead by a sniper. The one inside was targeted through the open kitchen window and this one appeared to have stepped outside to collect the paper. The officer walked over to the body bag and unzipped the side.
Dale blinked and gazed at the sightless eyes. The woman was approximately forty years of age with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was slightly overweight and sported purple facial bruises from an old injury. Most importantly, she was not Reynata. He breathed a sigh of relief although he felt a moment of guilt for not mourning the loss of an innocent soul.
'It's not her,' Dale muttered as he stood up from the blood-stained lush grass.
'The other woman's in the kitchen,' said the officer as Dale moved towards the front door 'It's not pretty in there!' he yelled as Dale acknowledged his warning with a wave.
Dale stepped into the old house. A mix of lavender and freshly baked cake permeated the walls, leaving him with a sense of familiarity and dread. He did not know how he would cope if she was dead.
He moved slowly down the tiny hall and turned right into the small lounge. As usual, the house was spotless. Reynata was house proud and despite her second-hand furniture and time worn flooring, she had made this place her home. It was friendly and welcoming, adorned with fresh flowers and samples of her fine needlework. Dale picked up an embroidered pillow and placed it nonchalantly back into the position on the couch he was so used to seeing it in.
With foreboding and a racing pulse, Dale stepped into the pale green kitchen. The awning window was shattered and blood was dotted across the walls and over the fresh butter cake that lay in slices on the central island bench. The body was crumpled sideways on the floor, attended to by a crime scene investigator who had turned her face up so they could prepare the body for removal.
Dale used the fridge to lean against. His legs were on the verge of collapse and nerves coursed through his body. The woman was not Reynata, leaving him relieved but with one question: where was she?
He knew that this was a safe house and the dead women must have been caught in the crossfire as a case of mistaken identity, but it was also unlike Reynata to run. She would never flee for her life and leave the house or her friends unattended. Adding further fuel to the fire was the small Chrysler in the driveway, set of keys and black purse near the sink. He automatically concluded she had been taken and it did not take much for him to work out by whom.
He had to ring someone ... but whom. Reynata was in protective custody and his involvement with her would surely be questioned. He was in a quandary, a feeling that did not sit well with him. He was used to getting immediate answers to his questions.
Dale wandered outside at the same time the senior officer approached him.
'Any luck?'
'No. It appears that the home owner is missing,' replied Dale.
'Look, I don't know if it is related, but five minutes ago I overheard a call on the radio about a woman found sitting in the gutter only two streets from here. She was dazed and unresponsive. The ambulance officers were unable to get an intelligent word out of her and have taken her to the Seton Medical Centre.'
Dale had to get there immediately. If it was Reynata, she would need him.
'Thank you!' he shouted to the officer as he raced for his car.
'It's at 1201 West 38th Street,' the senior officer replied.
Dale waved and started the ignition. The vehicle roared to life and Dale raced to the medical centre. If it was Reynata, he feared what condition he would find her in. A relapse would devastate her psyche and possibly undo all of the progress she had made over the last twenty years.
The short ten minute drive to the hospital seemed exceedingly lengthy, added by the lack of car parking. Dale was so frustrated that he used his status to pass the queue and walk straight to the counter. He could feel the eyes of the waiting patients boring angrily into his back and in any other circumstance, he would have taken his place in the line ... but not today.
The attending nurse gave him directions which Dale followed exactly, arriving at the ward in less than a minute. He approached bed number one with hesitation, fearful of what he would find. If it was not Reynata, he would have to start at the beginning. If it was her, would she recognise him? Was she hurt? There was only one way for him to find out. He pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the small cubicle.
The woman lay on the bed with her back facing him. He did not need to see her face to know that it was Reynata. The glorious dark brown hair that she used to hide the scars on her shoulders lay limp on the pillow. Her slender but tall figure was slumped in resignation under the cotton sheets and her left hand with the missing fingers was visible on the bed in front of her.
He was just about to approach when an elderly, grey-haired nurse entered the room.
'Sorry to interrupt. I was just about to change her drip.'
'Not at all. Can you tell me about her condition?' asked Dale.
'I was not here when they brought her in, but it seems that she was involved in some sort of altercation. There are bruises to her wrists and welts on her arms and face. She has not responded to any stimuli and has not eaten anything since her arrival. Technically speaking, she does not require the drip, but we are worried about dehydration.'
'She has not said a word since her arrival?' questioned Dale.
'None, but she is carrying many horrific scars. We were wondering if her current status has anything to do with her old wounds,' replied the nurse as she unhooked the saline bag and replaced it with a new one.
'I don't know,' replied Dale honestly as he moved around to the front of the bed.
Reynata's eyes were open, but she had a vacant, glazed expression. Dale was overwhelmed with a sinking feeling of guilt and sadness. He had not been there when she needed him most. He took her fingerless hand and stroked it gently, smiling at the nurse when she left the room. The nurse gave him an expression of sympathy.
'I'm sorry, Reynata. I was not with you when you needed me.'
'You're a right royal bastard,' she whispered in return.
Dale was taken aback with shock. He could not believe what he had heard. She was looking at him with bright focused eyes and a total clarity.
'What ... how?'
She gestured to him to come closer. Dale complied.
'I'm only joking. I'm not upset with you. I knew you would come for me,' she whispered in a voice so low that no one else could hear her.
'After my friends were shot and I was kidnapped, I knew immediately what had happened. Ahaw had found me. There was no way in hell that I was going to let them take me back to that place, so I fought. I fought for my life like you had taught me, Dale. After freeing my hands, I took the small can of mace you told me to keep in my pocket and I sprayed it in their faces. The driver slammed his foot on the brakes and I jumped from the car. I could hear an ambulance come around the corner at which time my kidnappers took off and I lay in the gutter, pretending to be injured. My ruse worked and they stopped for me instead of heading to my home. I knew if I could stay quiet until you came, no one would discover my identity and I would be safe. We need to get out of here before they find out where I am.'
Dale sighed audibly. Reynata was a smart and strong woman. It was what he loved about her.
'Okay, but I think it's time you told me why they want you so badly. I know that you remember Reynata and I have been patient. For twenty years, I have waited for you to come to me, to confide in me as I have in you.'
'I know, but it is painful and we all have our secrets. You have not told me that one enigma that rules your life,' accused Reynata as Dale hung his head. What she said was true. Dale's own life had been ruled by the ghost of his past that he had never revealed to anyone, not even to his own daughter who it affected most.
'I need time, Dale. For so long, I have pushed the memories to the back of my mind that I fear unlocking them. It's like being afraid of the dark and knowing that you have to open the door to step out into it. The thought fills me with dread.'
Dale lowered his eyes in empathy until he came up with an idea -- hypnosis. It could be the answer they needed. Yes, it could work.
Dale grabbed Reynata's clothes from the end of the bed and helped her to dress. He was keen to get her out before a nurse arrived and starting asking questions.
As the hospital was understaffed, no one had the time of day to stop and question two able-bodied people strolling down the hall. Their exit was unimpeded, but Dale took care to ensure they did not remain in the open for long. He had no idea who was watching them, his fears confirmed when he discovered the tyres of his vehicle had been slashed.
They had found him.
In the moment between knowledge and action, Dale heard a shot ring out. His years of military training came to the fore and he grabbed Reynata, shoving her onto the concrete more harshly than he had intended. The bullet rammed at full velocity into the post behind them, missing their heads by a few inches. Whipping his gun from its holster, Dale fired back while gesturing Reynata to move backwards. When he had first entered the underground car park he had noted that a Ford sedan had an open driver's side window. It was parked two spaces from his vehicle and could possibly provide them with an opportunity to escape.
Two more shots rang out to the right of their position and Dale stood up to return fire. He was ineffective with the shots being returned almost instantaneously. They were closing in and much to his chagrin, Dale had not been able to determine their position.
Reynata continued to edge along the ground until she had reached the front tyres of the sedan and knelt up on Dale's prompting to open the door. She quickly crawled into the front seat, followed immediately by Dale who fired a couple of shots in succession to deter their pursuers.
Although he was not an expert in the field of vehicle theft, Dale had seen a few of his mates hot-wire cars in his youth. He sincerely hoped his memory held true, but much to his delight, the car still had keys in the ignition. He sighed in relief and started it immediately.
Amongst rapid fire, Dale managed to accelerate out of the car park and towards the exit ramp. He noted two men trying to leap towards the back of the vehicle in an attempt to shoot them, their misfire shattering the rear window and right tail-light of the car. Glass sprayed throughout the interior, but the headrests acted as a shield from the flying shards. Dale kept driving.
Desperation overcame him and he drove at breakneck speed toward the local church. It might seem like an odd choice, but he knew the pastor well and he could ensure their protection. He had his suspicions that the sect had infiltrated all areas of the community and in light of the events over the last couple of hours, he felt that his beliefs were confirmed. He no longer knew who he could trust, particularly in an alien city.
'I know this is to do with my knowledge of Ahaw, but I don't understand why they are chasing me,' asked Reynata.
'That's what I want to find out. I understand your distress, but it has become a life and death situation for both of us and a group of archaeologists in Tikal.'
'Archaeologists in Tikal?'
'Yes ... it's a long story, but the dig in Tikal has uncovered a mystery involving the symbol tattooed on your neck. We have a group of very important archaeologists trapped underground in a shaft and it seems that the emblem is the key to freeing them. Unfortunately time is fast running out and we have no more than forty-eight hours.'
'Why don't you get the government involved? Surely they could get them out.'
'It's not as simple as that, Reynata. We have our suspicions that the group you lived with is widespread and have infiltrated various areas of the community. We strongly believe that they are making and selling high-grade cocaine and netting themselves a fortune. If this is correct then you may be the only one who can testify against them.'
Reynata looked at Dale with a horrified expression.
'So, I need to recall the trauma I suffered to help you uncover the identity of these men and save the archaeologists.'
'It would assist but it's not necessary,' said Dale, trying to ease the pressure on her but knowing full well that any information she could provide may prove to be vital. 'My daughter is helping to uncover the secret of the symbol and is making good progress. We are hopeful she will make a breakthrough in time to save the archaeologists and I have my best men trying to expose the ring of criminals.'
'But it would help,' pressed Reynata.
Dale nodded reluctantly, knowing the pain it would cause her.
'The priest we are going to see is also a trained hypnotherapist,' said Dale, revealing his reason for choosing the church.
Reynata frowned and Dale could see the fear on her face.
Gillian watched as the dense Guatemalan jungle came into view. From above it looked like a glorious green carpet that would be gentle underfoot and soft to touch, but Gillian knew that looks could be deceiving. The jungle was home to numerous snakes, scorpions, tarantulas, bats, jaguars, crocodiles, monkeys and small cats. It was a beautiful place but deadly to those who entered unprepared.
She cringed involuntarily as she tried to imagine what Fred must be going through in the damp darkness of the death trap. He would be terrified, although Gillian knew his pride would not allow him to admit his fears to any of his fellow occupants. She had no doubt he would be brave to the very end, but her concern was with her feelings about him -- or lack of. The frantic pace of the last day and a half had been all consuming, but it had crossed her mind that she should have been petrified for Fred's safety. She was not and this worried her.
Adam placed his hand gently on her shoulder.
'We'll save them,' offered Adam, misinterpreting her deliberation for angst.
'Yes ... I have every confidence that we'll succeed, but Georgio has just confirmed that the rope holding the lift is continuing to stretch.
'I know, but they are safe for the moment and we can't spend our time contemplating forthcoming events. We need to focus all of our efforts on helping them escape,' said Adam.
Gillian smiled. Adam was attempting to provide comfort and she appreciated his endeavours.
'Five minutes!' yelled Georgio as he motioned to the ground below. They had begun their descent into Uaxactún.
Adam slid open the door of the helicopter, inundating the cabin with humid jungle air that replicated the condition of a sauna. She had to blink momentarily to gain perspective and gratefully took hold of Adam's hand to steady her loss of balance.
Adam winked at her for showing her first sign of weakness.
Gillian scowled in jest but followed him past the slowing rotor blades to the adjacent jungle.
Georgio had landed in the middle of the Plaza of Ceremonial Buildings which boasted the only expanse of open space. Built in the early classic period, it consisted of the main pyramid, Structure E-V11-B -- or better known as the Pyramid of the Masks -- and three further pyramids to the east. Used for astronomical studies, the pyramids were perfectly aligned to measure the solstice and equinox between the eastern stairway of the Pyramid of the Masks and the other three pyramids.
'Grouse, Mate. What a place!' exclaimed Adam as he viewed the overgrown city, his mouth agape in awe.
'I almost forgot that you hadn't been outside of your home town before,' laughed Gillian as she placed her hand under Adam's chin and shut his mouth for him.
Adam laughed. 'I'm an adventure virgin. Anything remotely interesting is exciting for me, but seriously, this place is amazing. To imagine that this city was once home to hundreds of people is kind of eerie. It's a little like a treasure hunt, discovering the lifestyle of a forgotten society.'
'A man after my own heart,' joked Gillian, the lightness of her comment overriding a serious undertone. Adam gazed at her. Did her comments mean more than she had intended? He hoped so.
With the howler monkeys screeching in the background, Adam followed Gillian to the Pyramid of the Masks. It was a short structure with a stairway and a number of masks on each of the four faces. It was in remarkably good condition for its age due to the protection of the outer pyramid built by a later ruler in the late classic period. This had preserved the original building which had been discovered by chance when the crumbling outer walls had posed a safety risk for tourists.
Gillian watched Dale run his hands over the brickwork in deliberation.
'It's hard to imagine that the ancient Mayans fashioned these with such precision. It reminds me of the Egyptian Pyramids, leading me to wonder if they were somehow related,' said Dale.
'That's a common misconception. In reality the Great Pyramid of Giza was built in the 13th century BC long before the Mayans even existed. The Egyptians were masters of their time and their buildings far more advanced. The difference though lies in the use of the pyramids. The Egyptians built theirs as tombs whilst the Mayans used theirs for religious, ceremonial and astronomical purposes. The Mayans were also the first to design the corbelled arch and had the original working calendar predicting the earth's rotation with surprising accuracy. Unlike the 365 days spread throughout our twelve months, the Mayans had eighteen months made up of twenty days each. The remaining five were called the 'Wayeb' and were considered the dead or dangerous days. It was considered extremely unlucky to be born on any of those five days,' said Gillian as they approached the base of the pyramid depicted in Adam's painting.
'I didn't realise they were so advanced,' whistled Adam in disbelief as he gazed admiringly at the stones of the pyramid. 'In my painting, this pyramid is adorned with amazingly bright murals and shimmering stones.'
'Yes. The Mayans were also experts in plaster. They plastered and painted the interior and exterior of all of their buildings with the most important receiving extensive decoration. This pyramid would have been no exception,' responded Gillian.
'I'm unsure which side of the pyramid the priest was sitting at, but it was heavily treed behind the building and quite open at the fore. I would think that he was standing in the plaza as we are now,' concluded Adam.
'Then the mask you referred to must be this one,' said Gillian as she touched the rough facial features of the raised deity that sat proud amid the crumbling remains of the surrounding stairs.
'Hmmm,' considered Adam thoughtfully, 'yes ... that's probably it. But now what? I don't see any hidden treasure.'
'Did you think you would find an "X marks the spot"?' laughed Gillian as she produced the first part of the Kinix manuscript.
'Let's start from the beginning. We know from the painting that he was pointing to this mask and we suspect that the next part of the book or clue is in or near this mask,' said Gillian.
'Tell me something else I don't know,' mumbled Adam, his lips pursed with deliberation. He continued, 'The priest left a clue in the room at Tikal that allowed you to open the box in Teotihuacán, so it stands to reason that there would be a clue in the box to uncover the secret of this mask. Did you find anything unusual or out of place in the box?' he asked.
'No, not at all. The box was empty and the manuscript contained nothing out of the ordinary,' replied Gillian as she mentally ran through the script. Nothing stood out, nothing at all. She quickly scanned the script as Adam looked over her shoulder.
'What's that?' he asked, pointing to the number thirteen on the first page.
'Not sure,' mused Gillian. 'I would not think it was "out of the ordinary", but it certainly does not marry with anything in the script.'
'Could it be a clue?'
'Perhaps.' Gillian threw up her hands in frustration.
'So far, Kinix has hidden his true meaning by writing in Latin. Why would this be any different?' concluded Adam.
'True. In Mayan, the number thirteen comes in a few different forms. The Mayan calendar, better known as the Calendar Round, was made up of three smaller circles entwined with cogs like intermeshing gears. These calendars combined allowed them to accurately name 1 872 000 days starting from the year 3113 BC. The first calendar of the circle is called the "tzolk'in" and is a sacred calendar cycling 260 days. The second is the 365 day "haab", based on the cycles of the earth and the third is called the "tun-uc". This one is the moon calendar and mirrors a woman's 'moon' or monthly cycle. The number thirteen can mean thirteen days or years after 3113 BC. It could be the number system which is two lines each with the value of five and three dots on the top of that to make thirteen. It could be the thirteenth month of the haab which is called the 'Ben'. The possibilities are endless.'
'Okay, so let's take this number thirteen on face value. It has a circle around it, leading to the conclusion that this in a significant part of his plan. Perhaps the circle represents the earth or the moon.'
'I would suggest earth. The Mayans valued the earth as their home and the base of all things important,' said Gillian.
'Which cycle did you say related to the earth?'
'The "haab", and the name of the thirteenth day was called "Ben" and the thirteenth month was called the "Mac".'
'Ok, so what were the symbols for Ben and Mac.'
'Gosh, now you've got me. I think Ben is an oval with a few inner lines and Mac is a monkey,' said Gillian, screwing up her face in reflection.
'I can't see how the face in the pyramid looks like either of the symbols you've described. There is nothing that comes close to representing a monkey or an oval with a few inner lines,' said Adam as a familiar sound emanated from above.
Gillian looked up in surprise as another helicopter hovered just above the thick treeline. A quick glimpse at the ground reconfirmed that it was not Georgio.
'Who is it?' asked Adam.
'I've no idea,' replied Gillian.
Gillian was close enough to see Georgio twist his neck in an effort to view the intruder and that his face had crinkled with concern. He gestured to Gillian to hurry.
The unidentified rival hovered for a moment before determining that the only suitable landing spot had already been taken. It quickly climbed back into the hot blue sky and flew off in the direction of Tikal. Gillian guessed that it was most likely rich sightseers who would undoubtedly be upset at having the opportunity to visit Uaxactún taken from them.
'Tourists?' questioned Adam.
Gillian nodded.
'Now what?' queried Adam.
'Georgio has asked us to hurry,' advised Gillian as Georgio shouted from the helicopter.
'Can you two move your backsides! I'd like to get out of here!'
Gillian looked at Adam and they grinned in unison. The vision of Georgio's red nose and chubby cheeks duplicated the image of a clown.
They laughed as Georgio hammered his hand against the helicopter door in frustration and irritation at being ignored.
'In all seriousness, we'd better hurry. Storm clouds are closing in,' said Gillian as they both looked up and noted an avalanche of dark clouds on the horizon.
'Okay, let's think like Kinix. He was an intelligent man who knew that no one in his foreseeable future would be able to uncover his secret. For one thing, no one could read Latin and secondly, he had taken great pains to hide his manuscript. He had no reason to suspect that anyone other than the owner of your disk and paintings would come close to uncovering his secret. The small tile did not need deciphering to open the obsidian box, so it stands to reason that it would be simple to locate the hiding spot here,' concluded Gillian.
'Then let's presume he had used the circle around the numeral thirteen simply to highlight it and that the number was simply that -- a basic counting configuration. Did you not say that thirteen was two lines of five and three dots on top of each other, a little like a pyramid?'
'Yes,' replied Gillian, her fair skin suddenly aglow with enthusiasm. 'In the painting, was the priest pointing to the mask or above it?'
'I thought it was at the mask, but the figure is quite small, so I could possibly be wrong.'
'So, he could simply be telling us that it is thirteen steps above the mask. It is a step pyramid after all,' suggested Gillian.
'I thought you told me all pyramids were plastered and painted, so how would he know where the thirteen steps were?' asked Adam, his question leaving her aghast at his stupidity until she remembered that he knew nothing of the Mayan culture until today. His intelligent answers and easy conversation had caused her to forget he was a beginner.
'This pyramid was not like other Mayan temples that required constant maintenance to keep their beauty to an acceptable level for the gods. It was originally constructed with steps on each side so that the priest or king could walk up its surface with ease,' replied Gillian, trying not to sound too condescending.
'That makes sense,' agreed Adam 'so, let's go and look,' he said as he started to climb the crumbling stone.
Gillian laughed loudly as she clambered up behind him. She was so excited by their impending discovery that they did not notice the sound of the returning helicopter as it hovered momentarily just out of sight.
On reaching the thirteenth step and positioning themselves directly above the mask, Gillian knelt down to study the stone blocks. To the inexperienced eye, they all appeared identical, but the one in the very middle did not fit with the same precision. It was too small, out by less than just over an inch on both sides but clearly placed into the structure at a later stage.
Gillian took out a small nail file she carried in her bag and began to dig at the mortar when a shadow appeared from above. The rival helicopter had thrown its silhouette over the lush landscape like a spider web and two figures had dropped swiftly from the sky.
Gillian looked up in surprise, shocked that the intruders had returned but even angrier at her failure to hear their arrival. She had been so caught up in the moment that her senses had been dulled and she was like a horse with blinkers on. Stupid ... she was stupid.
Gillian shook her head as she saw two men in black exit the helicopter, lowered to the ground by a winch and a rope. They were too far away for Gillian to make out the type of firearm they were using, but she could tell that they were pointed directly at their heads. They were clearly experienced, and the name 'Samuel' came to mind.
A quick calculation told her she had about thirty seconds to uncover the secret behind the block before their position was breached and the adversaries stole the treasure. She knew their situation was dire unless Georgio had also seen the arrivals. She hoped he was not taking the opportunity to have a nap considering he was a notoriously deep sleeper and often required a decent shaking to be woken.
She looked at Adam and motioned in the direction of their helicopter. He nodded and she knew that he had understood her intentions. Gillian kept working. It was imperative that she uncovered the treasure before they arrived, so she kept her head down.
Adam turned to discretely locate Georgio. He was nowhere to be seen.
Gillian glanced up from her work and noted the puzzled expression on Adam's face. She knew that Georgio was not where he was supposed to be and this caused her heart to flutter in fear.
Where was he? He was their only source of protection.
'Dig! Dig, Gillian!' yelled Adam in desperation as he armed himself with a couple of stones and waited until their adversaries were within thirty feet of the top of the pyramid before aiming at their bodies. Adam was not a good shot and the rocks flung harmlessly into the air, missing their targets by an arm's length.
Adam swore loudly as the challengers boldly approached. They clearly thought Adam and Gillian were alone and that this was going to be an easy task. Their smiles were almost visible on their faces as Gillian broke through the mortar and ripped the block from its position. She reached in and dragged out a familiar obsidian box, her discovery seen by the arrivals.
Two shots rang through the air!
The next few moments passed in slow motion for Gillian who watched in disbelief as a shower of blood burst into the air, covering her arm as it gushed in a downward trajectory towards her right knee. The first of the intruders had lost the side of his face and he tumbled sightlessly in Gillian's direction just as the remaining mass of bulging tissue fell from the skull and bounced down the temple stairs. If she was made of less substance, she would have screamed, but Gillian was too intent on missing the second body to think about it. The other man had been shot in the side of his upper torso and he did not die instantly. Gillian heard him gasp in shock and look down at his chest, the realisation of his imminent death bringing disbelief to his eyes.
Her humanity came to the fore and she was just about to rush to him when he raised his arm and fired his pistol in her direction. Adam was standing slightly upward from Gillian and upon seeing the intended murder, he leapt downward, impacting Gillian's upper body and forcing her off balance. The bullet crashed harmlessly into the stone as both Gillian and Adam tumbled down the steps and landed on top of each other in a tangle of arms and legs.
It took a couple of seconds before Gillian was able to move her body. Adam had cushioned her fall, but every bone and muscle felt as if it had been stretched and pounded to its capacity. She cringed at the thought of her impending pain as the muscles stiffened over the next couple of days but managed to lift her body off the ground and gaze down at Adam. He was not unconscious, but his strained and reddened face revealed the agony he was in. He winced as she reached to help him to his feet, but the continued cascade of bullets that rained upon them from the retreating helicopter forced them to ignore their aches and pains. They stooped low and ran for the cover of the treeline as return fire from the opposite side of the pyramid continued until the helicopter disappeared from earshot.
'Bloody hell,' swore Adam as he gazed at his bruised and bloodied arms.
'Yeah, I agree,' complained Gillian as she held up her left hand and noted that her knuckles were stripped of their outer skin. She had clutched the obsidian box with such determination that her inner palm had been sliced by the edge of the box and the blood had begun to ooze down her wrist. The pain was excruciating, but she had barely noticed it until they paused for a breather under the trees.
'Are you okay?' asked Adam, his genuine concern touching Gillian who could not help but draw comparisons between him and her less caring fiancé.
'Yes, but I am worried about Georgio.'
Her fears were unfounded when the small man came running from beyond the ruins and into the open like a bulldog on a mission. The expression on his face was of anger and sheer determination, allowing Gillian to understand why her father valued him as backup. Georgio was strong, reliable and extremely cunning and he grinned in delight.
'Stupid idiots. Did they really think we were dumb enough to fly in here unprotected?' and then in his second breath, 'We've gotta go. I'm positive they will return with reinforcements.'
Georgio paused for a moment. 'Did you find what you were looking for?'
Gillian confirmed with a nod of her head.
'Good, then we'll fly to Tikal and seek protection from my men who are already on site.'
'Okay, but if I'm correct, we'll still need to fly to Palenque,' her comments ignored as Georgio ushered them quickly to the helicopter, ignoring their pleas of pain.
The large metal cross rattled slightly as Pastor Peter Bright opened the solid oak door. His bathrobe and haphazard impression were a clear indication that he was not expecting guests, causing Dale to straighten the old man's glasses before they fell off his nose. Without a word of greeting, Dale stepped into the aged building and gave the shrunken man a hug befitting a close family member.
Reynata looked on in confusion. This was not the type of emotion she was used to seeing Dale exhibit and it took her by surprise.
The Pastor gave him a generous hug in return.
Noting the confused look on her face, Dale offered a three word explanation. 'He's my Uncle.'
'Oh,' was all Reynata could say.
'I'd guess he's not told you about me, love,' Peter said, his wrinkled face and lined lips crumpling in a warm, happy smile.
Peter looked at Dale in a questioning manner of approval.
'It's fine Uncle ... she's a friend.'
Peter instantly beamed and wrapped his arthritic arm around Reynata's waist before marching her through the antique wooden pews and out into the adjoining kitchen. It was a warm kitchen, reflective of the years prior to electricity when everything was cooked over a wood stove and ornaments hung off the walls. The cabinetry was old but maintained and ran in a U-shape around the outer walls. A white-painted trestle table sat in the centre of the room with pots and pans suspended from the ceiling above. Peter had a pot of hot chocolate simmering on the stove and a loaf of freshly baked sliced bread on the centre bench. The smell was amazing and Reynata inhaled in delight.
'Did you bake this' she gestured to the bread.
'Of course. I am a man of many talents, but if you can excuse me for a moment, I need to have a chat with Dale -- men's business, if you know what I mean.' Peter winked and followed Dale back into the church.
'Is she the one? She looks as I imagined.'
'Yes.'
'Has she come willingly? We both know that it won't work unless she is ready to reveal the information,' said Peter as he sat down to relieve his tiring legs.
'I have told her that the lives of archaeologists and millions of potential drug victims are relying on her recollections.'
'I know the drug ring bit is true, but I haven't heard anything on the news about a group of trapped archaeologists,' reprimanded Peter as he waved his fingers in rebuke.
'No, it's true, Uncle ... all of it. It's hard to explain right now, but the archaeologists have stumbled across a secret that is somehow related to the religious beliefs of the sect. Any information Reynata can offer may help save their lives. Their time is limited to thirty hours at best and although Gillian is helping, she may not unravel the clues in time to save them. It's important to obtain any information we can.'
'I can understand, but I'm also worried that you're doing this for your own benefit. I know who you think Reynata is, but have you thought of how this could impact Gillian if it's true,' said Peter, his grey eyes reflecting his deep concern.
'I have, and I admit that my reasons are also selfish, but I have waited for so many years for answers, Peter. It is the right time, even if it only helps to save the archaeologists.'
'If only you had given me the opportunity years ago, you may never have needed to wait,' chastised Peter.
'You know me, Uncle.'
'Yes ... only too well. You've always been afraid of the unknown, of discovering something that may make you face your emotions and upset the little bubble of security you've created for yourself.'
Dale frowned and lowered his head. Peter was right, but he was not in the mood for this discussion today. He eyed his uncle thoughtfully and beseechingly.
'Okay, I'll do the hypnosis for you,' Peter conceded as his heavy eyelids blinked disapprovingly, 'but if I see any stress from Reynata, I'll have to stop.'
Dale noted the anxiety on Peter's face.
'Don't worry, old man. I trust you,' his comments sounding a little more sarcastic than he had meant. He was thankful Peter continued on as if he had not heard and responded without malice.
'The body might not be the best, but the brain is as active as ever,' commented Peter.
Dale pushed the swinging doors and re-entered the kitchen. Reynata was seated at the bench consuming a mouthful of bread, but the nervous twitch in her eye and shaking of her hands exposed her true feelings. Peter would have to tread carefully.
The room was deathly silent with no one knowing what to say at first. In the end, it was Reynata who stood up.
'Come on. Do you two think I'm stupid? Let's get this over with.'
Dale grinned. Reynata's mouth full of food had given her bloated cheeks and created a comical appearance.
They all laughed!
Peter led the way through the door to the left of the kitchen and into a comfortable sitting room. The small room was furnished sparsely with a large fireplace, two recliners, a couple of stools and one small sofa. The walls were wallpapered in an old floral design and an aged musty smell filtered throughout the room. To either side of the fireplace was a large book shelf that contained Peter's prized collection of rare religious manuscripts.
Reynata chose a comfortable position on one of the recliners and Peter placed himself on a stool opposite her. Dale sat on the other recliner and watched intently as Peter instructed Reynata to concentrate. He sincerely hoped this would be successful.
Peter produced his small pocket watch which hung eloquently on a long gold chain. It had been handed down to him by his father, Dale's grandfather, and was one of the few items of value he owned. He treasured it and carried it with him always.
Peter asked Reynata to relax and concentrate on his swinging pendulum. She complied without fear and it was only a matter of moments before her eyes glazed over and there was a lack of pupillary reflex.
'She's ready,' whispered Peter as he began asking her a series of basic questions such as where she lived, what food she liked and how old she was. Peter then gradually progressed back through the years until he reached the time she had come out of a coma. Up until then, her answers had been forthright and honest. There was no note of tension in her voice and her expression was happy and relaxed.
Peter turned and looked at Dale, ensuring that he was happy for him to proceed.
'Slowly,' suggested Dale.
Peter acknowledged his request with a blink of his eyes.
'Reynata, you have just come out of a coma, but I want you to go back further. I need you to tell me what you were doing just before you fell asleep.'
Reynata did not respond for a moment, but her relaxed demeanour gradually began altering as her mind searched for the long lost memory. Gentleness transformed to fear and her body grew rigid in the chair. A deep blush ran from ear to ear and her hands shook uncontrollably. Dale wanted to go to her, but Peter ordered him back.
'I'll bring her back if it becomes too difficult,' said Peter.
'What do you remember, Reynata? You can tell me. I'm your friend and I will not let anything happen to you. The room you are in is warm and comforting and your friend Dale is here with me.' Peter's monotone voice was calm, quiet and soothing. He took one of her hands in his and stroked it gently.
She pulled away. Her entire body started to shake as if she was in a room of ice, but both Dale and Peter recognised it as a memory of the drugs she had been on. She began garbling unintelligible words and her arms began to splay widely, almost knocking the nearby lamp off the table.
'Reynata ... don't dwell on that time. I want you to go back a couple of days. What do you see?'
Reynata let out an ear-piercing scream so shrill that it drew shivers of fear from Peter and Dale. The scream was not the type let out by young girls having fun but of a woman pushed to the end of her endurance and in extreme pain. She did not move but continued to scream as her mind fought the demons of the past.
'Bring her back, Uncle,' Dale ordered, but as soon as Peter went to snap his fingers, Reynata unexpectedly stopped. She looked at Dale with sightless eyes but seemed to recognise him nonetheless.
'I know you. You were nice to me before I went to sleep, but I also knew you long ago. I tried to remember where I had seen your face, but my mind was not clear. I could not shake the fog that has invaded my brain.' Reynata drew her legs up onto the chair and began rocking.
She was quiet for a moment longer but suddenly started sobbing. 'I have lost her. I did my best to look after her, but I have lost her. She was all I had.' Reynata wailed continually until Peter took her hands.
'Reynata ... it's just a bad memory. I want you to go beyond that.'
'I can't. I want to find her first.'
'Find who, Reynata?'
'My daughter. She is too young to look after herself. I don't know where she is. She does not answer me when I call her name.' Reynata's voice raised a few decibels with angst.
'Your daughter is safe, Reynata. She is with me. Now I want you to go back a couple more weeks,' soothed Peter firmly, his frown confirming his fear that he was pushing her too far.
'Okay,' replied Reynata as she appeared to relax slightly and digest this new information before moving on.
'What do you see, Reynata?'
'My room.' Reynata started to smile.
'What is it, Reynata? What are you smiling at?'
'My children. They have come into the room together and they are happy. They are laughing and smiling and I think they've been playing together.'
Dale and Peter glanced at each other in bewilderment. 'Children', mouthed Peter.
Dale shrugged his shoulder. He had no idea.
Peter redirected his attention to Reynata. 'Who are your children, Reynata? What are their names?'
She did not reply, her face transforming into a contortion of agony. 'They are coming for me again. I can hear their voices in the corridor. Ahaw wants me and I know what he wants to do. He wants to force his fingers and wrinkly penis between my legs, but I won't let him. Not again. This time I will fight. I love my children but I can't do it again. The humiliation is too much for me to bear,' Reynata sobbed softly.
'But my children. I have to protect them,' she continued. Her expression softened momentarily at the memory of her children but hardened quickly. 'If he passes me to the other fat man, this time I will kill him.'
'Who is the other man, Reynata? What is his name?' asked Peter gently.
'Ferrero. He calls him "Ferrero, the Lizard Man" because he has two lizard tattoos on his arm.'
'I think that's enough,' whispered Peter as Reynata began to shake uncontrollably. She began screaming again. 'God, no! God, no!' she cried at the top of her voice. 'They want to show the rest of the group what happens when someone defies them. I told him I'm going to tell the world about him, what a monster Arun Keane actually is, and now they want to torture and murder me.' Reynata cried as she was near hysterical.
'Peter ... now,' Dale ordered.
'He will kill my girl. He knows she is not his daughter.'
And with that Peter snapped his fingers.
Reynata glanced at Peter and Dale with unease, noting the shocked looks on their faces.
Peter mopped the sweat from her brow.
'Did you find out what you wanted?' she asked.
Dale nodded, his mouth open with shock. He had discovered more than he had thought possible, including the name 'Ferrero the Lizard Man'. Ferrero referred to Senator Ferrero Santiano, one of the 128 members of the Senate. He was well-known for his flamboyant lifestyle and refusal to cover up the tattoos of his beloved pet lizards. He was not favoured amongst the Senate, but his loud mouth earned him a small loyal following of people willing to do what was necessary to ensure Ferrero was listened to. He was like an Achilles heel to the government that they could not shake.
Dale had to leave. It was important for him to find Ferrero, but he was worried about leaving Reynata. She had opened herself up to them, revealing the trauma she had suffered at the hands of Arun Keane and Ferrero Santiano and he did not want to desert her now.
Weighing on his mind was also the confirmation that she was the girl he had met in the darkness of a sleazy hotel on a warm summer's night twenty-five years ago. His drunken stupor did not allow him to remember what she looked like or where she came from except that she has escaped from some camp or group for the night. He was far too interested in having sex to care.
Four years later, a brutally tortured young woman was found wandering the streets with a child in tow. She was on the verge of death and was unable to recollect her name, where she came from or even if the child was hers. Dale took custody of the child and it was not until Peter expressed his surprise at her uncanny likeness to his sister, Dale's mother, including the unusual shade of red hair and pale skin, that they had her DNA tested. Although common sense said that Reynata was the mother, her memory loss, Dale's drunken stupor and lack of recognition of the woman he had slept with did not provide him with the one hundred per cent confirmation he was seeking. The last straw was the lack of opportunity to test Reynata's DNA for a match, or so he told himself. Whilst he visited her regularly he had always forced this issue to the back of his mind, like a dirty little secret that could not be revisited. Reopening that door would create immensurable consequences, so he simply chose to ignore it.
This forced his hand and any doubts of her paternity had been put to rest. Reynata was Gillian's mother and in one sense he was relieved, but it also gave him a massive headache. In order to protect Gillian from any traumatic memories she may have experienced, he had led her to believe her mother had died. In addition to that, it seemed that she may have a half brother that she would need to know about. It was one conversation he wasn't looking forward to. She would be furious.
Dale looked at Peter and noted the expression of serenity and composure. His uncle possessed an uncanny ability to take everything in his stride and it often left Dale feeling somewhat jealous. He often wished he could let go as easily.
'It's fine, Dale. Reynata is safe with me. You need to go and find that man, Ferrero Santiano.'
Dale smiled gratefully and left the room. He had a lot to do. Without the assistance of Georgio, he would need to go on his own although he did need to ring him. If anyone knew the location of Ferrero Santiano, it would be Georgio.
Dale reached for his mobile phone and dialled.
It did not take Richard long to gain his bearings and he quickly located the hollow rock that held the rope against the roof. If it lay against the north wall, as Julia thought, then the handholds should be built into the west wall, but a quick scan proved fruitless. He needed to look a little more carefully and logic told him that the niches he was searching for would be hidden or covered over with infill. The architect was too thorough to leave anything unfinished.
So as not to overbalance, Richard lay on his stomach and stretched out across the roof of the lift. He shone his torch horizontally at the far west wall, straining and aching with exertion as he moved the torch back and forth in an attempt to pinpoint the elusive join. Just as he began to doubt Julia's wisdom, Richard located a narrow, hairline crack that created a small rectangle approximately six by two inches. He felt like screaming with joy, particularly since he now knew what he was looking for and readily identified another ten. They were spaced four feet apart and extended as far down as his torch would allow and up to ten foot from the roof. It was here that Richard knew he would find the tool room and he experienced the first flutter of excitement since he had become trapped.
Climbing back into their enclosure, Richard eagerly shared his discoveries with his friends and discussed the best strategy to reach the tool room.
They quickly determined that there was no way they could stop the lift falling when the rope broke. Richard momentarily considered connecting his Capewell retractable grappling hook to the eyelet near the ceiling but, even with a weight-bearing capacity of 1600 pounds, it was unlikely to hold.
'We have no choice but to try and open the tool room,' said Julia.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
'But there lies the problem. How do we get to it?' asked Redmond.
'We have already determined that we can't use the grappling hook to support the lift, but perhaps we can use them to individually swing ourselves over to the tool room,' concluded Fred.
Richard continued, 'Yes, that could work. Swinging over to the wall may be a problem and I am certainly too old to be considering such acrobatics, so I thought Redmond might like to give it a go.'
The horrified look on Redmond's face spoke words, but Richard did not concede. Redmond was the logical choice. He was young, fit and certainly able to carry it off.
'You are our best option, Redmond. You have the skills to open the room and I know you enjoy hang-gliding and rock-climbing in your spare time.'
'I suppose I could try,' replied Redmond, his wide, expressive eyes and mop of brown hair flopping about as he nodded in reluctant acceptance.
'Good boy.' Richard slapped him enthusiastically on the shoulder as Julia passed out a small meal of sustenance bars, thinly rolled tortilla and juice.
'Enjoy the food whilst we've got it because there won't be any when we move,' said Julia.
'Now I know why you've been stockpiling it,' said Richard proudly as he kissed Julia gently on the cheek before attaching his belt to Redmond and hoisting him onto the roof.
When he was in position, Richard joined him and pointed out the ring he needed to shoot the grappling hook into and then directed him towards the supposed location of the tool room.
He sincerely prayed that he was right.
'Good luck Redmond,' offered Richard as the young man gazed at the destination in fear but quickly steeled himself as he prepared for his mission. Within moments Redmond fired and with intense trepidation they watched and waited as the grappling hook flew straight and sure. It struck the hollowed stone straight in the centre, spreading its tentacles out behind the axis.
Richard pulled at it and was satisfied that it was secure.
He smiled at Redmond who immediately took the rope, connected the ascender and began to pull himself upward until he was free of the lift roof. Once clear from any possible obstruction, Redmond swung uninhibited towards the north wall, showing his experience by landing firmly against his feet and continuing to hop along the fascia until he reached the west side.
Richard held his breath whilst Redmond searched and located the footholds gesturing joyfully towards his discovery. He then proceeded to chisel at each consecutive grip until the inserted covering stone popped free to reveal a well-cut hollow.
Eventually Redmond reached the area they had pinpointed as the tool room and began to work at it with the small hammer and chisel Richard had provided him. It took him more than half an hour of digging at the obsidian before Redmond made a breakthrough.
'I've found something. It looks like a small room!' he shouted as he eagerly continued to remove the obsidian covering.
This was a big breakthrough and Richard was joyous, but for some unknown reason, warning bells were ringing. The architect of this tunnel was not careless, nor was he dumb. He had managed to construct an impervious passageway complete with an elaborate ruse to protect the secret he was hiding. It simply did not make sense for Redmond to break in so easily even if it did take half an hour. The architect had built this tunnel from the outside in, finishing and polishing the obsidian last. Any large tools used to finish this passageway could not have been removed, so it was quite probable that the engineer would have protected those tools by inserting a trap.
Richard panicked. 'Redmond, get out of there!' he screamed, but it was too late. A rumble omitted from above, increasing from a barely audible groan to a deep roar. Centuries old dust exploded from the hole as did a large boulder that teetered on the edge before succumbing to gravity and falling from above. It knocked Redmond from his perch, the force pushing him away from the alcove and slamming him into the outer wall. Richard heard him scream in pain, but it did not end there. The boulder fell as if in slow motion and for a moment, he thought it might pass the lift safety, but it caught one of the corners, ripping the wood and rope as it smashed its way into oblivion. The already weak rope that held the lift aloft bore the extra strain nobly, but it had also begun to unravel. Richard quickly understood they had an hour or two at most to save their lives and to make matters worse, he had no idea what condition Redmond was in.
Julia screamed as Richard lowered himself into the devastated room. An entire corner had been torn away, leaving a gaping hole that opened out into the vast darkness. It had been fortunate that Mitch, Fred and Julia had been on the opposite side of the destruction, but even that did not protect them from injury. A flying piece of wood had pierced Fred in the upper arm, leaving a wound that would need at least two stitches. To his credit, he bore it without a whimper, choosing to help Mitch who had a slightly more serious cut across his hand. Julia had escaped unscathed but was distraught over the loss of food that had been stockpiled in the ruined corner.
Julia took one look at Richard. 'We're in dire straits, aren't we.'
Richard nodded. 'We have an hour or two at best and it appears we may have lost Redmond.'
Julia did not weep. She stood up and spoke to the small group. 'So, what are we waiting for. We have one grappling hook left, so let's get out of here.'
Gillian felt sore, dirty and very unattractive, but she was too excited at the prospect of opening the second box to care. She also noted in amusement that Adam had fared little better. He looked as if he had been dragged through a pile of mud, but to his credit he glanced at himself and then at her before breaking into a chuckle.
'Appealing, aren't we.'
Gillian laughed in reply but suddenly grew serious. The light rain had increased dramatically and Georgio began slowing the helicopter to combat the increased hazard. This gave Gillian major cause for concern, considering any excess rain could cause ground movement and possible instability at the site in Tikal. She was not one for praying, but she mentally implored God to stop the rain before it caused any major damage.
'About five minutes!' yelled Georgio, referring to their descent into Tikal.
Gillian's face lit like a lantern on a dark night.
'Can't wait to read the next part of the "Kinix" book,' noted Adam in amusement.
'Is it that obvious?' replied Gillian, frowning thoughtfully. 'This is also my first opportunity to check on Fred and Richard and I'm worried that they're not faring well. What am I going to do if we can't save them in time?'
Adam paused for a moment before replying. 'I haven't known you for long, Gillian, but I'd reckon that failure isn't something you're good at. You'll give this riddle your unsurpassed attention and I will do my best to help you. If the undesirable happens, it won't be for lack of trying.'
Gillian started to reply, but Adam wasn't listening and interrupted her. 'That sounds like hail outside, but we're too high.'
'So, what is it?' asked Gillian, immediately worried.
Adam shook his head as the window behind them shattered, spraying glass across the floor and rear seats. The shards missed them by inches.
'Bloody 'el! They're friggin' firing upon us!' yelled Adam as Georgio instantly responded by dropping the Iroquois to 13 000 feet in the hope of escaping their attacker.
They were not successful.
'Fuckin' hell!' screamed Georgio as the sounds of ripping metal brought gasps of fear from Gillian and Adam.
'If we don't get outta here, we'll die for sure!' shouted Adam.
'Don't you think I know that!' replied Georgio as he increased speed to the maximum 135 miles per hour. The machine climbed rapidly back up to 7000 feet with the G-force pushing Adam and Gillian backwards in their seats. Unfortunately, the shattered window acted like a vent and forced air into the helicopter at such a rapid rate that it became a whirlwind of noise and power. They struggled to breathe.
'Anyone good with a gun?!' shouted Georgio as both Adam and Gillian looked at each other in confusion.
'I'll do it!' gasped Adam bravely as he staggered to the gun door and viewed the mounted M60D armament subsystem with fear. He clearly had no idea what to do with it.
'Step aside, Adam! My father has shown me how they work!' panted Gillian as she mustered her energy and pushed Adam aside.
'But have you actually fired one?!'
'No!'
Gillian hoped her act of daring sounded more convincing that she felt. In truth she was shitting herself and knew that failure was not an option.
'For this to work, we need to fly no more than 600 feet from the ground!' shouted Georgio as the attackers had once again pulled up behind them. Georgio acted quickly and pulled the levers, dropping the helicopter to an angle that seemed to defy gravity. The Iroquois was pushed beyond what she was built to handle and the metal groaned in agony with only Georgio's experience stopping them from spiralling out of control. Gillian struggled to keep her balance and clung onto Adam for support.
Thankfully the pursuers lacked Georgio's finesse which gave Gillian the precious time to feed the weapon belt into the machine and ensure that the canvas bag designed to capture the ejected casings and links was correctly attached. She removed the safety catch.
Gillian's nerves were at their peak, but she was blessed with a rush of adrenaline that allowed her to pull the trigger when Georgio spun and placed the Iroquois level with their opponents.
Gillian responded instantaneously, sensing their movement as they repositioned themselves near their guns. Her shot missed, but she still managed to hit the rear of the helicopter just past the doors. The unexpected burst of rapid fire brought a shout of anger from their opponents who had been caught unawares. They returned fire immediately.
Her heart was pounding, but Gillian managed to duck behind the gun, avoid the hail of bullets and pull the trigger, all at the same time. Amazed by her stroke of luck, Gillian prepared to return fire when Georgio veered to the right without warning. It threw her off balance and without the support of Adam behind her, she would have smashed her head against the solid metal bars of the passenger seats.
An unconscious understanding passed between them and Adam moved to support Gillian as she knelt and pulled the trigger, spraying the bullets left and right. Their opponents dropped back for a moment as Georgio accelerated and directed the machine to the right of a mountain and down into a large valley. It was his hope that the dense basin would provide cover, and whilst the imposing canyon remained narrow, he was successful. Unfortunately the valley was also short and Georgio was quickly confronted with a successive gorge that was much too tight for his machine to fit.
Georgio swore loudly when he realised there was no option but to fly upwards and face their rivals who were undoubtedly waiting for them.
He was not wrong and the large black machine rose like a monster from the other side of the range, coming face to face with them in the air. Georgio braked hard in an attempt to avoid contact, but his severe action also threw Adam and Gillian into the wall of the front compartment.
'Crap!' yelled Adam who just managed to clasp Gillian's arms and avoid further injuries.
'You both okay?!' Georgio yelled.
'Don't worry about us! They're about to fire!' screamed Gillian as the assassins released a missile directly at them.
Georgio was caught unawares but brought their responsive machine to life by accelerating into the lowlying clouds. His gauges revealed that the trailing missile was frighteningly close, so he fired a decoy in reply and avoided the resultant blast by three feet.
'Fuck!' spat Georgio as he dropped from the protection of the cloud and found the black helicopter directly below them and another mountain range to his immediate left.
Georgio spun around and headed for the cradle-shaped cleft at the top of the precipitous rocky array but discovered that in a straight line, their opponent was slightly quicker. Georgio could not outrun them, so he dropped to less than 50 feet from the ground.
'Ready to fire!' yelled Georgio as he hovered momentarily, allowing the assassins to level with them before spinning horizontally and aligning their side door with that of their opponents.
Gillian steadied her posture and leant back on Adam as she levelled her gaze and fired. Her first hit was successful and a cheer rose to her throat at the realisation that their opponent took a direct strike in his right arm. It brought him to his knees as the injury rendered his arm useless, forcing him to be pulled aside by his companion, a man Gillian recognised as Samuel.
It was as if all of her nightmares had arisen at once and she blinked, desperately hoping the image would disappear, but Samuel stood strong and true as he grinned in delight and took aim. The shot was deadly, hitting just below the rotors and bringing about the failure of the entire upper fitting. Gillian looked at Adam and in a split second they both understood that a crash was imminent. They shared a moment of despair as the machine coughed and spluttered, eventually coming to a complete stop seconds later. The satisfied look on Samuel's face as he left them to die would haunt her for many years to come.
The helicopter was going down, but Georgio had cautioned them of this possibility. He was known for being overprepared for every possible scenario, quite often driving his colleagues insane with his pedantic nature. After the first attack at Uaxactún, Georgio had insisted both Gillian and Adam wear the small parachutes he carried for emergencies and they were immensely thankful for his foresight.
The jungle floor was closing in rapidly and they had to react instantaneously. The side door of the helicopter was still open and provided the obvious avenue for escape, but it suddenly occurred to Gillian that the pilot's seat did not allow room for Georgio to wear a parachute. One look at his face confirmed her fears. Adam also noticed her expression and followed her line of sight. Without allowing room for error, Adam placed himself between Gillian and Georgio. He was going to Georgio's rescue and left no time for her to argue.
'Go!' he screamed in a voice that she dared not disobey.
Gillian frowned but went to leap, turning just in time to notice Adam fly towards Georgio and push him out through the adjacent open door. Adam entwined his arms with Georgio's and locked his feet around his legs, grabbing hold of the rope Georgio had been holding and wrapping it around their waists.
Pushing away from the doomed helicopter, Adam pulled the chute with less than 150 feet to spare. Gillian had just over 200 feet before the helicopter slammed into the jungle floor.
The resultant blast sent shock waves, flames and debris into both the chutes as Adam and Georgio's white fabric collapsed in on itself and sank into the trees.
Gillian had no idea if they had survived, but she was forced to turn her attention to her own predicament. Her green parachute suffered three small holes and a large tear from a spray of metal shards. Fortunately, some of the air in the upper bowl of the fabric remained and this slowed her freefall, allowing her to descend into the canopy like a deflated balloon.
Luck was on her side and the trees surrounding Gillian sported large limbs and broad leaves, decreasing the potential hazards to her and the parachute. Eventually Gillian was jerked to an abrupt halt ten feet from the ground.
A quick scan of her situation revealed she was unhurt with the exception of a few cuts to her hands, arms and face. She viewed the ground below and noted that the jungle floor was covered in leaves, moss and the odd stone. If she could free herself, there was every possibility of landing without injury. Gillian judged the situation carefully and began to untie the parachute. On releasing the last cinch, she closed her eyes and fell.
The impact was not as hard as she had expected, but every muscle and bone still ached and for the first time since this whole thing had started, she wished she could just give up. She was tired, sore and depressed, but the drive to find Adam and Georgio overwhelmed her and she painfully climbed to her feet.
She knew that her friends had come down on the opposite side of the helicopter, so the logical marker to locating them was to find the site of the helicopter crash. That task was not difficult with the stench of burning fuel and a distinct smoky haze filtering through the trees.
Gillian stumbled along the rough ground, coughing loudly as copious amounts of smoke necessitated the need to cover her mouth and nose. The flames had increased and she had started to find debris. Gillian was closing in, but she decided to veer slightly to the right in an attempt to avoid the immediate vicinity of the crash.
The going was difficult as unwieldy undergrowth hampered her progress, making the task that much more stressful, and then there was the nagging fear at the back of her mind. Snakes and spiders. Jungles were full of very large ones!
A good twenty minutes had passed since the crash and Gillian knew that she must be nearing the area her friends had come down in. She began calling their names, but there was no response.
Gillian sat dejectedly in the dirt with her head between her hands. It was starting to look hopeless when she felt an object hit the back of her skull.
'Ouch,' Gillian moaned but responded by looking upward. At first nothing was visible, but the glimpses of white in amongst the green foliage was a dead giveaway! Adam and Georgio were stuck high in the trees.
In a moment of relief and badly timed humour, Gillian laughed at their impossible predicament. How on earth was she going to get them down, considering they were more than ten feet high! Logic told her there were only two options. Either she scaled the tree and threw them a rope or she placed something on the ground that would cushion their fall. Her first option would prove to be an impossible task unless she was a monkey, so her mind turned to finding enough padding to protect them on impact. Leaves would not do it, but she did recall an inflatable raft Georgio had stored in the helicopter.
She prayed it was not burnt.
'I'll be back!' Gillian yelled as she scurried in the direction of the flames.
Adam and Georgio had come down much closer to the crash site than she had, leaving her in awe that they had survived at all. It really was a miracle!
The Iroquois was unrecognisable. A mass of smouldering ruins lay in place of the trusty machine and it took Gillian a few minutes to determine which was the front and back. The rear of the machine lay a short distance from the main cabin and the rotors had sliced through the nearby trees like a knife. They rested around sixty feet in the direction Gillian had fallen. The surrounding trees had begun to lose permanence and the ones immediately surrounding the helicopter had developed an inward lean, pointing towards an imminent instability. The possibility of a collapse was high, so Gillian had to think quickly. The raft was kept under the seat she had been sitting on and despite the pressure of the impact, the main cabin could still be identified.
Covering her face and mouth, Gillian jumped the burning debris and raced towards the wreckage. It was very hot and she could feel her face and hair burn as she approached. The shell lay in amongst a great deal of rubbish and did not allow access from her direction.
Gillian looked about. If she moved to the far side, she could possibly shadow the machine and make it around the front.
Gillian ignored the extreme temperature, leaping the debris until she reached the mangled cabin door. It was so hot that she could barely concentrate on the task at hand, but she collected her senses and located the fire retardant bag. It was intact with the silver material, designed for space travel, doing the job it had been manufactured for. It was also reasonably heavy, but Gillian was able to drag it out and lift it onto her shoulders, bringing about images of a pack animal. Despite her situation, she smiled and carefully picked the path she had entered through and struggled back to Adam and Georgio.
The raft was self-inflatable and upon the release of the tag, it blew up like a balloon. Clearly understanding her intention and noting that there was no other option, Georgio jumped first. He landed spread-eagled and face down. Adam was more ungainly, landing on his side, but nevertheless they both made it safely.
'You two scared me,' Gillian retorted in a pretense of anger but hugged both of them in relief.
Adam looked as white as a ghost, but Georgio smiled as if he had taken it all in his stride. 'Your father would be proud of you, young lady,' he said, rubbing Gillian's mottled hair fondly.
Adam grinned and pecked Gillian on the cheek. 'Geez, Mate. That beats my last theme park ride by a mile. Thanks for saving our arses,' he added.
'All right, that's enough niceties. Just before we crashed, my bearing showed us as being half a mile south of Tikal,' and with that he withdrew a tiny compass from his pocket.
'Always prepared,' Georgio continued as Gillian and Adam grinned at each other in amusement and fell in line.
Georgio made a cracking pace and despite her love of fitness, Gillian struggled to keep up with the man twenty-five years her senior. She wondered how he did it.
'If we are less than a mile from Tikal, why didn't your men come to our rescue?' asked Gillian as the revered pyramids of Tikal became visible over the treetops.
Georgio cleared his voice before he spoke. 'I don't know and quite frankly, it's got me worried,' the tension in his voice evidence that he was concerned.
They made good time, but with the setting sun, it became increasingly hard to see where they were going and there was also a noted quietness about Georgio. The nervousness he radiated made both her and Adam uneasy almost to the point that they had totally stopped talking to one another.
Various outer ruins of Tikal became obvious as they crept through the long forgotten buildings, stopping suddenly when Georgio put his hand up. He held finger to his mouth in a gesture of silence and motioned for them to drop to the ground.
They complied immediately and not a moment too soon as a man wearing army fatigues and carrying a large combat rifle approached their position. Gillian first thought that it was one of her Dad's men but the frown and angered look on Georgio's face confirmed that was not the case.
Georgio shook his head in fury and motioned to them to form a huddle. 'It appears my suspicions have been confirmed and that the group who shot down our helicopter have taken control of Tikal,' and with that he pointed through a small opening towards a troop of ten people no more than one hundred feet away.
'Shit. Now what?' asked Adam.
'Don't know, my friend, but without the use of a vehicle and time for Gillian to read the next part of the manuscript, we are screwed.'
'I know,' said Gillian excitedly. 'When Richard set up his last dig here, he used an old cave only minutes from the site to store emergency supplies and provide shelter to sleep. The area is reasonably well-protected and quite probably undiscovered.'
'Lead the way,' Georgio insisted as Gillian moved to the front and picked her way through the jungle to the approaching hillside.
The cave was located with the mouth facing away from the ruins. It had been discovered by Julia who had been looking for a private spot to wee when she accidentally slipped backwards into the opening. The cave had been empty, but the paintings on the walls depicted a number of 'coming of age' ceremonies which was most likely its original primary purpose. In normal circumstances, Gillian would have been fascinated, but today she barely noticed the elaborately coloured works as she pushed aside the lowlying bushes and located a small lantern on a crate inside the opening.
Gillian was about to flick the battery operated unit when Georgio stopped her. 'Not yet. Wait until we're safely inside.'
In the dull light they could determine that the cavern was approximately a hundred feet long and thirty feet at its breadth. It narrowed where the roof met the walls, but along the centre, anyone could walk around unimpeded and without having to duck.
A large amount of supplies lay near the entrance, blocking any shadow their small light would make, so it was without fear that they flicked the switch and the room came alive.
'Wow!' exclaimed Adam as they viewed the spacious surroundings and quickly located a number of camping mats and a crate of packaged food.
Gillian sank to the ground in relief, savouring the respite from standing on her aching legs and eagerly tucking into the can of cold ravioli and longlife chocolate milk. At the moment the food was as well received as a Sunday night roast.
'That was great!' exclaimed Adam and he rubbed his stomach in delight. 'All I need now is a nap.'
'Ha, ha, ha,' chuckled Georgio. 'No rest for the wicked. As much as I would love to sleep, we have only twenty-eight hours at best to save the archaeologists, and the cover of night will allow us to find an escape vehicle. In the meantime, Gillian can read the next diary.'
'Yes, although, I've yet to open the box and determine if our assumption about the book was correct. What if there is no next edition?'
'Well, don't keep us in suspense. Let's have a look,' said Adam eagerly.
The second box was identical to the first, right down to the line that circumnavigated the outer casing. Gillian opened it swiftly and with great enthusiasm. Once again there were two inner boxes and an inscription on the inside lid of the second box. It read: 'If the gods allow it, it is my hope to hold the one who looks so much like me'.
Gillian sighed. 'I'd love to know who he was referring to,' she muttered as she lifted out the third box and quickly realised that it could not be opened with the same circlet they had used previously. This one had a small keypad that required the pressing of the digits in the pre-allocated order for the lock to be released.
Gillian threw up her hands in dismay. 'I have no bloody idea.'
'You didn't expect this to be easy, Gillian, not after all we've been through,' said Adam as he peered closely at the box.
'Come on ... think about it. Up to now, Kinix has left us a trail to follow. There is no reason why this would be any different, so it's most likely he has left the clue to this puzzle in the last box.'
Gillian nodded sheepishly, noting Adam's common sense approach.
'Didn't the first box have the hieroglyphs spelling "Way B'alam" surrounding the hollow in the centre?' noted Georgio.
'You're right! I'd forgotten about that. This one has nothing except for six dotted lines, so perhaps what is missing here is related,' muttered Gillian as she thoughtfully munched on her fingernails.
Adam slapped her hands in jest. 'That's a bad habit.'
Gillian scowled at him "Way B'alam" means "Spirit of the Jaguar", so you would presume this has something to do with a jaguar.'
'If I didn't know any better, I'd think this was an ancient version of hangman,' said Georgio in jest as Gillian looked at him in amazement.
'Bloody hell, Georgio. I reckon you're onto something. If Kinix has translated this to Latin like the rest of his script, then we are looking for a word that relates to a jaguar with no more than six letters. In Mayan, Jaguar is pronounced "Ba-h-lam", so it's my guess they are the six letters we need.'
'Isn't that a little too easy?' suggested Adam in confusion.
'It is for us because English stems from Latin, and Bahlum is written as it sounds. We forget that Kinix was the only Mayan who could read and write in Medieval Latin. Other than Kinix, no one else would have been able to translate the word Bahlum to jaguar.'
'Except for the person he learnt it from,' added Adam.
Gillian contemplated Adam's words for a moment. 'That's true. I wonder who the teacher was.'
'Wonder later, Gillian. Punch the letters into the keypad,' ordered Georgio dispassionately as she nodded and pressed in the letters 'b-a-h-l-a-m' one at a time.
They were rewarded with a click and the separation of both halves of the lid. Inside was another perfectly preserved manuscript and a small gold scarab beetle. Gillian lifted the scarab beetle out and studied it with curiosity 'This is not something I expected to see.'
'Why not? All civilisations have beetles,' queried Adam as he gazed at the fine craftsmanship.
'Yes, but the Mayan's were not known to idolise these types of beetles. I would have thought this was Egyptian.'
'Why?'
'Well, for one thing, the Egyptians thought that the scarab brought good luck, so much so that real mummified beetles were buried with the dead. It is a variation of the dung beetle whose industrious efforts to place an egg in a ball of dung and heat it by the sun created an association with the sun god Ra. This in turn gave it life-giving powers and protected the dead from being devoured by Ammit the Devourer, a fearsome part lion, hippo and crocodile creature who guarded the scales of justice in the Egyptian afterworld.
'Well, aren't you a ball of knowledge,' jested Adam as Gillian grinned with smug satisfaction.
'So, perhaps you can explain why it is in a Mayan box,' continued Adam as Gillian picked up the manuscript as if it was the most precious thing in the world.
'I have no bloody idea, but I'm sure this will provide an explanation,' said Gillian as she waved Adam and Georgio away.
'Get lost, you two. Don't you have an escape vehicle to find?'
Georgio and Adam didn't even bother arguing.
With the faint light of the lantern, Gillian began reading.
Manuscript part 2
On the eve of my eighteenth haab cycle and with the assistance of Bolon Yookie K'uh (god of war), the army had a decisive victory over Calakmul. The war had continued for many moons over a large parcel of land, but the gods had favoured Bahlum Paw Skull and he was delighted. They had captured ten of Calakmul's finest soldiers, leaving the decision of their fate to the gods. My divine ruler in his wisdom offered them a game of Pitz. If they won, they would be returned to their home, but if the gods found them unworthy, they would be sacrificed as an appeasement.
I was given the honour of selecting three of our best men which I did with care. I chose two of our elite army and a man by the name of Kaloomte B'alam who was instrumental in the victory over Calakmul. They accepted my offer with enthusiasm.
The chosen month was the 'Kankin' which was the fourteenth cycle of the year (27th of April--16th May) and named after the tree of life. It symbolised advice and grounding and would bring luck to our men. The day was the Kan which was the fourth day of this month.
On the morning of the Pitz, we were awoken by the sounds of the trumpet and I jumped out of bed with great enthusiasm, dressing in my best embroidered cotton breechcloth. Yok Chac followed my direction but clothed himself in a less decorated outfit, showing respect to my standing as the King's physician. We made our way to the Halaw (rectangular ball court) and sat in the middle row next to the seating reserved for Bahlum Paw Skull and his family. This was the first time I had been given a position of such importance and I admit to enjoying the reverence it afforded both Yok Chac and myself.
Within a few moments, the six contestants appeared to great fanfare. They were suitably garbed in the padded outfits and took their positions along with the two referees who would determine if the OI (eight inch rubber ball) had been correctly hit. A moment of prayer to Hukte'Ajaw was undertaken before the King signalled the beginning with a clap of his hands.
Kaloomte B'alam took the first strike, hitting the ball with his elbow and pummelling it towards one his team. They managed to bounce it from the head and directly into the marker, scoring a quick goal to our side. A great cheer went up until the opposition handled three quick passes in succession and gained a subsequent goal by knocking the ball to each other from knee to hip. The Halaw was deathly silent.
The play continued until our team gave a goal to the opposition by touching the ball with one of the minor players' feet. The King raised his hands in disgust and the fading time meant two quick goals would be needed from our team before they could win. Failure would bring shame to Kaloomte B'alam and possible death as retribution to the gods. I feared this potential disappointment as the king's anger would be unbearable for almost two women's moon cycles.
With much relief, our men stood tall and proud, deftly knocking the OI from the opposition in midair and racing with renewed speed and drive to the marker at the end of the Halaw. The three men foiled many attempts to obtain the OI, but they bounced from pad to pad, eventually succeeding amongst a standing ovation. Tension was high as the winner of this next goal would be the victor.
I admit to asking for Hukte'Ajaw's blessing a little too loudly and receiving irritated glances from the people surrounding me, but I did not care. I was too excited. The youngest member of our team hit the ball from the grasp of the opposing side. It was shepherded along by hand and head until it was only one strike from the goal, but the rival captain knocked it away. In desperation Kaloomte B'alam put his body on the line interrupting the Ti Pitziil and receiving the ball as merit for his hard work. Unfortunately he also took a direct elbow to his face from the other captain and fell heavily to the ground.
By this time the crowd was on their feet in an uproar when they witnessed a miracle. In a final frantic effort, Kaloomte B'alam flung out his elbow as he fell to the grass. He was rewarded with a freak shot that saw the OI fly directly at the face of the target. The court was alight with the excitement of hundreds of fans as Kaloomte B'alam became an instant hero.
At the urging of Bahlum Paw Skull, I raced to the court to check on the wellbeing of Kaloomte. He had not moved, but on further investigation, I had determined that he was merely disillusioned which was a common side effect of an impact to the head. I checked his blood flow and the reaction of his eyes and knew that all was well.
I offered my hand in congratulations, but as I attempted to help him to his feet, he pushed my hand away and glanced unkindly at me. Other than Yok Chac, there was no one in the immediate vicinity to notice this strange reaction, but it left me feeling extremely uncomfortable and wary. Even Yok Chac glanced at me in concern.
Trying to put aside my alarm and with the insistence of Yok Chac, I was did my best to enjoy the following feast, but I could not shake the unease I felt.
That afternoon, the King summoned me to his palace to advise me that he intended to sacrifice the losing team. He wanted me to perform the ceremony and I agreed but informed him that the life of the captain would be enough to show reverence and that the other two men could serve as slaves to a couple of deserving families. The King agreed with my logic and suggested that the men should go to the home of Kaloomte B'alam. I dared not argue with his judgement and promised to arrange the transfer the following day. Once again I was left with a bad taste in my mouth at the King's sudden favouritism to Kaloomte. To give one slave was a mighty honour but two was almost unheard of. I voiced my concerns to Yok Chac shortly afterwards.
The remainder of that day was preparing for the sacrifice and I had to ensure my knife was suitably sharp. Tradition usually states that the gods preferred the heart of the sacrifice to be taken directly and raised as an offering, but as a healer, I understood the pain the person would experience. My interpretation of the ancient writings was not to inflict pain but to show our respects in the blood of life...to give back some of what the gods gave to us.
I approached our king with my concerns and in his infinite wisdom, he agreed with my findings. All sacrifices were changed to the removal of the head.
The preparations of today's sacrifice was more elaborate than the usual, considering that our team had won their game of Pitz and spirits were still high. The sacrifice was a continuation of the morning celebrations and it was highly anticipated.
Bahlum Paw Skull stood next to me at the top of the temple, impressive in his regal sparkling white gown, jaguar wrap and feathered headpiece and the people cheered as he waved to them. The learned musicians played their trumpets and drums and the populace roared in delight as the man in his early twenties lowered his head to the block. His offering was a necessary part of our society that would give us prosperity and allow him to ascend to the gods.
I raised my obsidian blade high above my head and swung downwards in a single solid blow. It was important to strike directly below the skull where the neck was the weakest and as usual my aim was direct and strong. The head separated from the spine with ease and rolled down the temple stairs to a standing applause. It was a successful sacrifice although I did admit to having concerns.
Just prior to the celebration Kaloomte B'alam had somehow managed to gain access to the King and suggested to him that a child sacrifice as well as the captain of the losing Pitz team would be a much greater show of our reverence. Whilst I did not disagree, my opposition to using children is well known and I feel that Kaloomte was trying override me and take favour with Bahlum Paw Skull. This left a bitter taste in my mouth and upon discussions with Yok Chac, who agreed with me, we determined that Kaloomte was one to look out for.
Three days later I was summoned to the King's presence. It had been almost twenty winal (a full year, or twenty months in the haab calendar) since the king had agreed to marry a 'City of Gods' princess, but up until now, he had not requested that I commence my journey. Today he suggested that it was time to go and expressed his increasing concern at his age and the need to have a child. I nodded my head in respect and agreed to comply immediately.
I also appealed for a companion and to my surprise, he permitted whomever I deemed suitable. It went without saying that I would choose Yok Chac and in my excitement to tell him, I almost forgot to bow on my leave from Bahlum Paw Skull's company. This would have been a shameful disaster which I only just managed to avoid.
It was almost an entire kin (day) before Yok Chac and I were packed and ready to go. I admit that we were both slow and fussed about a great deal more than necessary, but this was a big adventure for us. Yok Chac packed and repacked his clothes despite the fact that we had only a small travelling bag each and I had to ensure Kin Kawil was up to date with the royal protocol. Kin Kawil -- my mentor -- had promised to take good care of matters whilst I was gone and although I trusted him implicitly, I confessed to still being worried about leaving my post unprotected.
In order to draw as little attention as possible to our departure, we left under the cover of darkness and with no fanfare. The King did not want to make a big deal about the collection of his future bride and I respected his integrity.
Due to the extensive cloud cover, the humidity was much higher than expected and there was no moon to guide the way. It was a good thing that I had walked this path so many times before and was able to lead Yok Chac to the outskirts of Tikal without harm. Beyond the protection of the city, the risk of animal attacks increased in the dark, but we timed our exit to coincide with the rise of the sun. If all went well and we walked at a steady pace, we could reach Teotihuacán within eleven kin (days), allowing for a detour via Palenque.
On the first day, we were full of energy and marched with much more vigour than I had anticipated. Both Yok Chac and I were far more adapted to scholarly topics than outdoor exercise, so I was quite surprised at our elevated pace. I contributed this to excitement and the fact that we barely spoke. Prior to the commencement of our journey, we had made an agreement to walk in relative silence and concentrate on the agenda at hand, which was contrary to the reputation we had earned as orators. Still, I appreciated the opportunity to listen to the sounds emanating from the jungle, particularly the howler monkeys, flutters of birds, the rustle of deer and wandering tapir. It made a change from the comparative noises of Tikal.
It had been a long time since I had travelled and I noticed that the road was wide, well-maintained and used regularly by travellers. On our first day alone, we met with the families of three villages and many merchants wishing to trade their wares. My initial fear of vagrants was put to rest and I began to appreciate the many types of people we encountered with the exception of a group of young males who wished to take advantage of our lack of security. The vision of Bahlum Paw Skull's jade and obsidian sword with his likeness carved into the hilt was enough to send them running. To threaten the men carrying proof of the King's protection was invoking the wrath of the gods.
As night fell and the jaguars began to wander the jungle, we took shelter in one of the purpose built havens that lined the path. These were erected at intervals along the main trading roads and maintained by the lords of that province. Even in times of war, an agreement bound all provinces with the upkeep of their huts or risk exclusion from trade. Both Yoc Chak and I unrolled our lightweight deer pelts and curled up for the night, thankful for the sleep that was short but came with ease.
A visit from an unwelcome python awoke us suddenly the following morning as it slithered into the shelter and passed within arm's length of our beds. I was not surprised as snakes were reasonably common, but it was unusual to see one so large and particularly at this time of the morning. On further inspection, I noticed the exceedingly large belly and realised that it merely wished to find a place to digest it previous meal. We decided to leave it in peace but took care to mark the outer wall with the symbol of a snake to warn any other unsuspecting travellers against a sudden shock.
Before we left, I dealt out a quick meal of maize cakes and Yok Chac packed our small bags. Within moments we were back on the road and once again heading in the direction of Palenque.
Whilst we were both still eager, I did admit to feeling a little sore because of our efforts yesterday and would have welcomed a pib'nah (sweat bath). The thought of easing my body into the heated bath and feeling the steam rise from the hot stones sent shivers of pleasure through my body. I was determined to make up for it when I returned.
Yoc Chak grinned at me and proceeded to chastise me in good humour when I neglectfully failed to take notice of my step. My lack of concentration caused by more pleasant thoughts made me trip on a stone and land heavily on my side. I felt particularly silly, especially since we received the unwanted attention of two jade merchants who helped me to my feet.
In my embarrassment I failed to take notice of their status but was duly informed by the ever watchful Yoc Chak that they were from Palenque and carried the mark of the most well-respected jade dealers. It was from them that I learnt that B'utz Aj Sak Chiik, the king of Palenque, was ill and they could use my skills as a healer. At first I expressed my surprise that they recognised me, but they pointed out that the name 'Kinix' was well known and as I carried Bahlum Paw Skull's mark and dressed like a priest, they automatically presumed it was me. I was both honoured and stunned. Even Yoc Chak looked rather amazed and bowed to me in mock respect which bought spontaneous laughter from the men. I smiled in reply and within moments we had developed a good understanding. With promises to meet again and after sharing a small meal, we parted ways but with the blessing of a new found friendship.
It was another day and night before we wound our way through the steep and densely forested hills partially covered in mist. I paused momentarily to gaze at the breathtaking views of the coastal plains and take in the pastel shades of the temple summits as we closed in on the picturesque city of Palenque. It was a beautiful sight and I drank in the wonder as we proceeded down a set of partially concealed steps onto a lower plateau.
Our friend had warned us that the ill health of the King had created unrest amongst the city's population. He stated that the people had grown to love their king and were filled with fear that his death would ruin the delicate balance of their society.
This fear was evident the moment we walked through the corbelled arch into the marketplace and city centre. It was not the glyphs on the walls, or the meandering brook that caught my attention; it was the anxious eyes of the populace. They gazed at us with suspicion and there was a distinct lack of joy and celebration common amongst the Mayan people. Usual duties were being undertaken but with little indication of enjoyment or enthusiasm. All was not well.
Our arrival was noticed immediately by the royal guards and we were ushered quickly to the King's palace. The mood was solemn, but we received a suitable welcome from the King's personal priest decked in a feathered headpiece, large circular jade ear disks and an elaborate jade and shell necklace. He flaunted his regal attire with too much pride for my liking, but to his credit, he immediately offered us a type of amaranth bread, hot chocolate and a platter of agouti and turkey. It was a great gesture of goodwill, but as soon as we had finished our meal, the plates were hurried away and the priest ordered us to follow him.
The palace of Palenque was much smaller than the one Bahlum Paw Skull inhabited, but it was equally beautiful. Glorious murals adorned the walls and there was much evidence of skilled workmanship in the intricately carved roof and sculptures. I took a moment to gaze at the paintings depicting the royal history of Palenque, which was almost as old as Tikal, before being rushed along the extensive corridor to a room at the end.
The king's room reeked of a dying soul and I gasped with shock as I closed in on the royal bed. B'utz Aj Sak Chiik lay in a carved cot with an unusually thick base, four feet fashioned in the exact likeness of the paws of a jaguar and a jaguar head at each end. Fine animal pelts, two chairs and numerous pots filled the room. The walls were adorned with paintings, jade and shell inserts and bright tie-dyed curtains. I quickly moved to the bed and noticed that the King was a middle-aged, good-looking man with the high forehead formed from the soft childhood bones typical of royalty. His face was full of pain and he was sweating profusely. My first thought was that his way (animal spirit) had deserted him, but the extreme pain showed a distinct disturbance of ch'ulel (life flow of the body). Such an intense reaction could only be caused by the manifestation of mitnal in his body. I knew immediately that a Pul Yah (removal of pain) was required.
I pressed the lower area of the body where the body passes its waste. There was a distinct bulge that confirmed my suspicion that mitnal had made his way into the King, causing a growth that did not belong in that area. I immediately requested a 'Bulche' paste and inserted it into the anus before waiting for the usual signs of relaxation. With the assistance of Yok Chac and the king's attendants, I used my trusty obsidian blade and cut through the flesh, past the layer of fat and into the waste systems of the body. Much of the body's life force pulses through this area, so I took great care not to damage any precious vessels as I sliced into the large putrid sack. The smell was worse than anything I had ever experienced and I immediately requested a cover for my nose. The King was badly blocked with faeces which I had to remove before I could find the obstruction. The attendants could barely stand with disgust but Yoc Chak was steady by my side.
It soon became apparent that a huge growth had concealed the departure of waste down into the anus, so I removed it with a skill and precision that pleased even me. On completion of my procedure, I sealed the wound with the life blood of the Balam tree and stitches of human hair. It was a good job.
Yok Chac and I agreed to stay in Palenque for seven kin to nurse the B'utz Aj Sak Chiik. I applied my usual medicines, prayed daily and banned the king from food or any movement for four kin. After the third kin, I noticed the ch'ulel began to correct itself and my efforts were paying off. The heat of illness had also decreased eventually, allowing me to administer small amounts of cacao and liquid from the silk cotton tree which would help with any potential infection. A gruel of maize was also introduced to his diet, but I was unsure if the King would ever be able to sustain a full meal again.
It was also during this time that I began to know the son of B'utz Aj Sak Chiik. Ahkal Mo'Naab was a mere fifteen cycles of the haab( one cycle is 365 days) and a gentle young man who reminded me a little of myself. He was clearly intelligent, but the unrest throughout Palenque meant that the people knew little about him. It was my guess that he had spent his many years studying but little time acquainting himself with the city he would shortly rule. I had hoped to help change this and in two remaining kin I took it upon myself to ensure that he became a familiar figure amongst the people.
We also accompanied Ahkal Mo'Naab on visits to the outer villages where we encouraged the Prince to hand out small sacks of salt as an offering. It worked and Ahkal Mo'Naab developed a reputation for generosity and honesty.
The following day Yok Chac and I prepared to depart for the 'City of Gods'. We gave thanks for the small but well-furnished room we had been given and I took one more look at the view of the magnificent temple from our window. Ahkal Mo'Naab was so appreciative of our help that he provided me with the secret to opening the sacrificial room of the great temple for my sanctuary if I ever returned. This was the highest honour bestowed on a visitor and I ensured that I left sufficient and strict instructions on how to care for the King after my departure to show my gratitude.
Ahkal Mo'Naab was suitably pleased and accompanied us to the outskirts of Palenque where he generously offered us enough food to ensure safe travel. I thanked him and knew that we had made a friend.
The journey to the 'City of Gods' revealed many new experiences for us! We travelled across rivers, through dense jungles and into drier regions. We even discovered a plateau on which we could see much of the surrounding environment. It was a little like standing atop one of Tikal's pyramids, the thought of which made me feel homesick. My initial estimate of being away for one Uinal and five kin (twenty-five days) was more likely to be two uinal (forty days) or perhaps longer.
Contrary to my initial thoughts, I found myself retreating into deep reflection of my life along the trek, often staying quiet for hours on end. Yok Chac was the more energetic of us both, taking great delight in meeting and communing with as many of the travellers as possible. We were, however, the most wary of the Zapotec as they had captured Yok Chac and caused the death of his family. We were thankful not to meet any!
'The City of Gods' came into view the following morning, the sight of which almost bought me to my knees in reverence. Stories did little to describe the immense size and overwhelming sense of presence it radiated. It was beyond words.
'The City of the Gods' was easily three to four times larger than my own beloved Tikal and even from this distance, I could hear the noise emitted by the throng of people waiting their turn to pass through the corbelled-arch entrance. The queue was complete with tradesmen wanting to sell their wares, slaves and masters, farmers leaving or returning and a number of travellers seeking refuge. Everywhere I looked I discovered a new colour, sound or activity and I was so enthralled that Yoc Chak took the liberty of closing my mouth, which unbeknown to me was agape in wonder.
Once we had endured the initial crush past the elaborate gateway which had not been designed to cope with such a large crowd, I took the luxury of gazing at the unusual architecture that surrounded me. Like a young child learning something new, I noted with interest the vast array of family homes and their inhabitants. No home was the same size, some catering for families of only ten whilst others of up to a hundred or more. Each home was made of wood and adobe and decorated to suit the status of the inhabitants with some displaying elaborate decorations and tiling whilst others were quite plain.
Much to the annoyance of my dear friend, I snuck into one such home and found that the walls facing the street were windowless but the homes all opened onto a central icon adorned courtyard. It had a room for sleeping, storage, eating, worship of the gods and a drainage system that ran out onto the road. Beautiful but unusual pottery was abundant as were intricate paintings which totally covered each plaster wall. The last room I ventured into was clearly a jade workshop and I could not resist overstaying my welcome by studying the skill of their craft. The work was intricate and of high quality although I was sure I could do better.
Feeling a little guilty at indulging my inquisitive nature, I hurried to the door to find Yok Chac deep in conversation with the occupants. The overly nice but beguiling tone of his voice indicated that he was attempting to stop them from entering their abode and catching me.
He flashed his eyes at me in disapproval and continued to scowl angrily once we were alone. I apologised but feared that he was well used to my incessant curiosity.
As we moved along the streets, I discovered that we had just seen the vicinity set aside for the tradesman. All of the passing men and women carried the wares of their craft such as pottery, jade, wood or obsidian, each of which worked from their home and either sold the goods at the local market or travelled. My theory was also confirmed by the decline in the amount of slaves I observed who were far more plentiful in the outer work fields toiling to reap and sow the grains and vegetables for their masters.
In our endeavour to find the King unaided, we followed the general flow of people and listened carefully to their discussions. Accents were varied with people coming from as far away as Monte Alban and Uxmal but there was an underlying discontent in their conversations and tone of voice.
They complained about the lack of food, fresh water and the freedom of will that this city had been founded on. This confirmed the plight Suya Chan conveyed to us on his visit to Tikal. Being a stranger, the people were wary of me, but on my exploration through the dwellings reserved for travellers from varied and faraway cities, I found an agreeable man who was of Mayan descent. Much to my amazement, the 'City of the Gods' allowed these migrants to build and live in buildings reminiscent of their own homes. The man confirmed the whisper of many and revealed that the people had become unhappy with attention showered on the aristocrats whilst food became limited and the general population was left to fend for themselves. I showed my understanding and gave the man my blessing in the hope the gods would look favourably upon him.
He gratefully thanked me.
Yoc Chak and I took our leave and followed his directions to the centre of the city where we found ourselves at the most amazing sight I have ever witnessed. To the local population, it was clearly a common spectacle and they barely blinked, but to me it was a miracle. An avenue ran from where I was standing to as far as the eye could see. To my right was an overly elaborate temple adorned with numerous symbols and glyphs and decorations of Kukulcan (Quetzalcoatl). This was flanked by a group of smaller buildings followed by a massive red pyramid, plastered, painted and bejewelled with pictures of K'in (the sun). It was the largest structure I had ever seen.
Beyond this was an equally impressive courtyard surrounded by twelve, four-layered structures, each topped by a glorious wooden temple dedicated to the most important gods of this amazing city. At the very end of this courtyard was another pyramid, not as large as the Pyramid of the Sun but equally as impressive. This one was also red and dedicated to the moon.
To the left of the avenue was a smaller but no less extraordinary arrangement of palaces, temples and another large plaza. The entire assembly of buildings was overwhelming, but they were not the feature that had captured my undivided attention.
Centred along the entire length of the avenue was a number of retaining walls that bordered an arrangement of circular pools of water. As a learned man, I understood the concept of water and it was evident that the avenue ran uphill as did the water. In Tikal, we used an arrangement of pulleys and buckets to transport water up a slope, but this would not be possible here due to the sheer size and volume of the liquid. I had also not overlooked the lack of an obvious transfer system. This was a mystery I longed to uncover, but perhaps the name 'City of the Gods' was a true representation of this great town.
The sun burst through the fine cotton curtains the following morning, bringing light to my eyes. I awoke with a start. The previous evening, the King 'Spearthrower Jaguar', named after his esteemed forefather Spearthrower Owl, had accepted me with great regard into his palace. He was a fine-looking man with glorious, long black hair, flashing eyes and features almost too dainty for a male. Despite his refined exterior, he was also very tall and carried himself with a dignity that was very commanding and quite frightening. Everyone fell to the floor in complete respect as he ordered a lavish banquet served immediately by slaves outfitted in highly coloured costumes. The banquet consisted of corn, squash, turkey and fish finished with a sauce made of sugared cherry and a cup of pulque.
This was followed by a ceremony to mark my arrival and the impending marriage of the Princess 'Lady K'in' to Bahlum Paw Skull. The ceremony which involved smoking K'aizalah Okox (psychoactive mushroom) also included the sacrifice of a pure girl child of six cycles of the haab. She had her hands and feet tied to her back before being clubbed on the back of her head. The skull fractured and she died shortly after.
I understand that most sacrifices were to honour the gods and to commit a child is the greatest offering of all, but I was never comfortable with the loss of a life so young. I know that it goes against the greater requests of the gods and our teaching dating back to the beginnings of civilisation, but the look of sadness and pain troubled me greatly. Kukulcan (Quetzalcoatl) also opposed these offerings and as a creation god, I could not believe him to be wrong. I decided that I must study further on this topic and Yok Chac agreed to assist me, knowing my position on this matter.
Today was an important day. I had duly advised that we would be leaving at sunrise tomorrow, so the King promised to allow me access to the most learned men in this city in a bid to preserve some of this great city's secrets. He too was well aware of the discontent in his home but was at a loss as to how to fix it. People were migrating to the city in droves every day and the food supply simply could not sustain them all. He had attempted to increase trade by growing the amount of goods produced in the city, but this in turn placed a heavy burden on the farmers who had run out of sustainable land.
Spearthrower Jaguar had also begun to rely heavily on appeasing the gods and as a result had tripled the amount of sacrifices and mural dedications around the city. Whilst it was not for me to judge one so wise, I would have thought the imbalance of the life cycle made it plainly obvious that this city was just too big and the only solution was to relocate some of the population. Spearthrower Jaguar would not listen to any of my suggestions.
Yok Chac came for me not long after I had dressed and prepared myself for the day ahead. Our first stop was to the head priest who, along with his advisor, controlled the most sacred documents of the city. Unlike Tikal where a number of people could read and write, only a couple of the priests and the King had this ability.
I was accompanied from the King's palace to an underground tunnel that ran beneath the royal palace to the Temple of the Sun. We met with a large grate that opened upwards after the King pressed three finger-sized blocks in the wall. He then gestured for us to move into the room but did not follow us. He said his farewell and returned to his duties.
Yoc Chak and I waited impatiently in the surprisingly large pillared room complete with enormous, predominately red murals representing the blood of life and depicting scenes of creation. I was fascinated and noted that their version of our foundation was strikingly similar.
Unbeknown to myself, the priest had been observing me whilst I studied the detailed murals. He approached from behind, leaving me in a state of shock as his voice unexpectedly echoed around the room.
'Welcome,' he uttered in a tone that was too large for his minute stature. I pride myself in my acceptance of all men, but even I was aghast at his short and disproportionate stature. I tried desperately not to stare, but this fully formed man barely reached my chest. He smiled in reply, clearly used to the type of reaction I had just displayed.
He gestured for us to follow him. Within a few strides, we had passed through another tunnel into what appeared to be a workshop and storage facility. The room, whilst still underground, had good natural light flowing in from four small holes in the roof and was full of artefacts, figures, jars and many other objects of significant religious and historical value. Once again I was faced with an unusual and surprising prospect when another man approached us.
The priest introduced him as 'one not from our land', an adept description considering he did not look like us at all. His skin colour was a light tan, he had large eyes outlined in black and a strange cloth and plain circular band over his glossy black hair. He displayed an air of extreme confidence and greeted us in a perfect representation of our language.
'His name is Mshai,' offered the priest as I looked at the strange man with curiosity. He could see in my eyes that I was longing for an explanation as to his origin and he answered without prompting.
'I have come from a land that has many large pyramids like yours called Mizraim (Egypt). I am following the family tradition of travel and to seek new information which I can take home to my king.'
I nodded. I had never heard of this country, but the thought of two places having the same buildings was incomprehensible.
'This is not the first time our people have visited your country; in fact, it is the meeting of our forefathers who collaborated and designed these great buildings that built a loyalty between us,' he said.
I was fascinated and we spoke about the differences in our countries, his long journeys across the seas and what discoveries he had made. He even offered to teach me a language he had learnt in a country called Greece. I agreed with enthusiasm, knowing that this would undoubtedly extend our stay. Yok Chac simply sighed rather obtrusively in the background.
It was ten kin later before we were ready to leave. I had taken advantage of Mshai's generous nature and indelible pit of knowledge to learn as much about his new language as possible. He was also nice enough to give me his two detailed scrolls, so I could continue to study the language in the privacy of my home, and a gold scarab beetle which I had learnt was their symbol of good luck.
I thanked him for his assistance and handed him my fine obsidian and jade necklace in appreciation. He smiled happily, leaving me to realise that I had developed a genuine relationship with this man, older than me by ten cycles of the haab. I was sincerely sad to say goodbye to him.
Up until now I had rarely seen 'Lady K'in' except during the evening meals. She was very attractive but did not have the flattened head typical of the Mayan royalty. The people of the 'City of the Gods' did not like the practice of placing boards against the heads of newborns to flatten their skulls, believing that it was unnatural to alter what the gods had intended. The rest of her gentle face was unadorned, but she wore a free-flowing, red and gold huipil, glorious jewellery and an unusual cotton headpiece to protect the glossy, waist length hair.
She was very quiet, but when she did speak, it was polite and well informed. She was obviously educated and clearly loved by the five slaves that accompanied her. As she was only seventeen cycles of the haab, I had expected her departure from her mother and two younger sisters to be emotional, but to my surprise, she was unaffected and led Yok Chac and myself out of the city amongst great fanfare and hope for a future blessed by the gods.
Dale hurried to the back of the church. He had entered through the front but was not ignorant to the potential danger of assassins awaiting his exit. He knew it was likely that they had found him, his fears confirmed the instant he opened the door. Bullets pounded the oak indiscriminately, causing Peter to rush to the relative safety of the small underground crypt to the rear of the altar. Dale reacted instinctively and dropped to the dirt. He forced himself into a roll, directly aiming for the cover of an old tombstone, and pulled out his automatic pistol on the way. The stone-filled grass dug into his side but his fit and taut frame barely noticed the pressure as he fired a round of bullets over the top of the grave.
Dale lay silent and the shots ceased momentarily.
A sudden flutter of birds beyond a row of rust-filled metal fencing revealed the location of his adversaries, so Dale lifted and dived, allowing himself direct aim at the long thick grass. He fired and was rewarded with a squeal of pain.
With his mind running at full speed, Dale quickly scanned the area for options. His own car was too far away and he had never seen Peter drive although the remote location of the church would necessitate transportation, but where? The church was not large and neither was the ground surrounding it. It consisted of a small vegetable patch, a chicken run, a fenced cemetery that had not seen a fresh body for a hundred years and two small sheds. It had to be one of the sheds. Dale fancied the slightly larger one with the white barn doors.
He lifted himself to his feet and ran for his life. There were at least three gunmen at large, one which Dale could sense was closing in on him from the rear. Once again he ducked and swivelled on his haunches, firing directly into the face of a man in a black suit and ski mask. He fell to the ground in a bloodied mess. Dale grimaced but did not delay, ducking and weaving between the trees and yanking at the side door. He paused momentarily as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His uncle owned an old Volkswagen Beetle and a motorbike that both looked as immaculate as the day they were driven from the showroom floor.
He decided to take his chances with the much faster bike and was not surprised to find the keys in the ignition. Peter always told Dale that you needed to trust a person as much as you would like to be trusted yourself. Dale in return thought he was a foolish but loveable old man. His sensitive and well-adjusted hearing detected a slight crunch of unrestrained gravel followed by the blinding light as the side door was flung open. Bullets rained into the barn, but the assassins had been foolhardy and abrupt. Dale had been prepared and whilst they were busy moving around the side of the barn he had opened the front doors and pushed the bike out. The assassins were met with an empty interior as Dale started the ignition, fled down the old dirt driveway and out onto the road. He could not resist a chuckle at his small win but knew that they would be only minutes behind.
As he sped along the road on the old but still powerful 1973 Kawasaki H1 motorbike, Dale was suddenly filled with a burning determination to fulfill his mission with a fervour he had never experienced before. At risk was not only the lives of those trapped by Arun's cult and the people he supplied cocaine to but also vindication for Reynata whom he had come to greatly care for. His mission was personal with the added gratuity of helping his daughter. He had many reasons to not fail.
With the surprise find of this beautiful old bike, Dale had been astonished to discover his Uncle had a hidden wild side. The bike was well used, polished to perfection and clearly loved. Why lime green though ... Dale did not know.
The machine rumbled pleasantly as the well-oiled engine easily accelerated alongside the large Wal-Mart semitrailer. Dale's only concern was the expectant backdraft as a second semitrailer carting livestock thundered alongside on the three lane freeway. It was at this moment that the phone rang indicating Georgio's mobile. Dale was desperate for the call and thankful that he had connected the blue-tooth on his phone, but a slight lack of concentration and increased turbulence caused him to sway. He was the first to admit that he was not an expert on a bike and fear coursed through his body as the front tyre came dangerously close to the wheels of the right truck. He truly felt like the meat in a sandwich.
'Don't hang up, Georgio!' he screamed as he placed his foot on the brake and slowed the bike enough to allow him to regain control.
'Sorry about that, buddy ... caught in a tight spot.'
'Sounds like you're in a windstorm,' chuckled his friend.
'This is no windstorm. I'm riding Peter's old bike.'
Georgio laughed heartily. 'No way. I thought the fall you had three years ago put you off bikes forever.'
'Yeah, but it was the choice between an old 1969 Volkswageon Beetle or the 1973 Kawasaki. I chose the bike.'
'So, what happened to your car?'
'It seems I've got a big red target on my back and its getting larger all the time. I couldn't get to the car with all of the assassins trying to gun me down.'
'Looks like you will need to have your wits about you. Ferrero Santiano lives in a small community called Bee Cave almost twelve miles west of Austin Central. You need to continue along route 360 until you reach Oakhill. Turn right down Route 71. He lives on a large secure ranch on High Canyon Pass. Word is that despite the seemingly open space, security is high and the place is wired to the extreme.
'Could be a time bomb, and I have to admit that I'm not keen to go it alone.'
'Sorry, Mate. I'm slightly indisposed and unless I can grow a set of wings, I'm of no help to you.'
'Is Gillian okay?' queried Dale, his voice tinged with worry.
'Good as gold. Has her head in the second part of that manuscri --' was all Georgio could say before Dale was shoved forward with such severity that he struggled to gain control of the bike.
He was furious, partially at their brazen attempt to force him off the road but mostly at his own stupidly. He had been so caught in his conversation with Georgio that he had failed to hear the approaching vehicle. The Mustang with a top speed of 175 miles per hour was far superior to the old Kawasaki, leaving Georgio clearly at a disadvantage. It did not take much intelligence for him to realise that he needed to outwit them and fast. Dale quickly sized up his options.
He was right in the middle of the three-lane freeway with high barriers and no exit ramps. His heart pounded fiercely as he searched for a possible decoy, his eyes falling on the trucks in front of him. The Wal-Mart truck was still travelling alongside the livestock-carrying semitrailer with the exception that it had moved over to the centre lane, positioning itself directly in front of Dale. The distance between the two trucks was six feet at best. If he tried, he could almost squeeze in between them, any indecisive notions he had pushed to the far reaches of his mind when a bullet shot past his ear, nicking the side of his black helmet. He was left with no choice. He accelerated as quickly as he could, but the roar of the pursuing vehicle and another bullet to the right handlebar alerted him to the severity of the situation. They were only just behind him.
Dale forced the bike to a new speed as the old engine protested unhappily but complied. He rapidly closed in on the trucks and was able to judge the distance he required to fit between them. The phrase 'like a can of sardines' came to mind as he battled the wind gusts before sliding into the Wal-Mart truck's slipstream. This allowed him to race behind momentarily before slipping into the gap between the trucks. He had only inches to spare but managed a sigh of relief until he looked in his rear-vision mirror. His pursuers had pulled up just behind him and had a Valmet M76 trained directly at him.
He realised he had made a terrible mistake. Instead of making his escape, he had cornered himself, giving the assassins a direct line of fire. Dale lowered himself as far as possible to the handlebars and kept riding, all the while praying for a miracle which did not come.
The truck drivers alerted to the gunfire had automatically braked and swerved slightly in their attempt to view the proceedings. The driver of the livestock semitrailer held steady, but the assassins had made the fatal mistake of hitting two of the Wal-Mart tyres. With the slight imbalance, sudden onset of rain and his avid curiosity, the driver of the larger vehicle began to veer sharply to the right causing the trailer to jackknife. It was like a bad movie unfolding as Dale, still sandwiched between the two trucks, watched the cabin of the Wal-Mart truck edge in towards him. He braked just as the cabin connected with the other semitrailer.
In an attempt to avoid a collision, the livestock carrier accelerated and forced Dale backwards just as the Wal-Mart truck attempted to avert a disaster by overcorrecting the front wheels. Unfortunately this only exasperated the problem and the trailer reacted by swinging fiercely in the opposite direction. Dale, seeing the gap in front widen once again accelerated and managed to clear the ill-fated truck that had just blundered into a deadly slide.
The tyres screeched as the driver tried in desperation to bring the vehicle to a stop, but the huge truck had developed a life of its own. It swung vertically around the centre of the road, swiping two other vehicles and the assassins who were unable to react in time. Eventually losing its fight to stay upright amid the loss of grip and increase in sway, the massive truck tilted and rolled. It careened dramatically into the side rails and crunched firmly into the solid concrete barrier before bursting into flames. The exhibition was as spectacular as it was loud with the inclusion of the assassin's vehicle caught underneath the falling cargo only adding to the scene.
In any normal circumstance, Dale would have stopped and rendered assistance, but this was far from the usual, so with considerable regret, he continued his journey towards Bee Cave. He noticed the scenery change from busy suburbia to a sparse land, full of water retentive trees and scrubs. This gave way to slightly larger homes and eventually taller bushes and a single lane residential street.
Less than one hour after the truck accident, Dale pulled into the relative secrecy of a few large shrubs and took advantage of the added foliage to conceal the bike. He was relieved that he had lost the assassins but was not ignorant enough to realise that he could not hide forever. The key to this mission was to get in and out as quickly as possible and gather as much incriminating evidence as he could on the Senator.
A large, three storey ranch-inspired home spread widely across the centre of the manicured lawns. It was surrounded by a mix of oak and poplar trees, sported a large circular driveway and flimsy looking white fences. To the right of the house was the stable complex and a number of outbuildings including two barns, and to the left was a swimming pool and tennis court. It appeared friendly and welcoming but looks were deceiving. Dale's trained eyes easily detected the trip-wires running around the boundary fence. He also knew that superior security would be employed in all areas surrounding the home and outbuildings. Hidden cameras and sensors would be employed as well as laser in the home.
Entry through the front was not likely but the space between the stables and the barn could be a possibility. He quickly viewed the surroundings and noted that the neighbours property had high stone walls. It was probable that the Senator had considered this security enough and that he had not used trip wires for the one hundred or so feet bordering the stables.
Using the high grasses as cover, Dale followed the wall until he was at the desired location. He jumped the stone and held his breath ... no alarms. He had been right, although he did pinpoint five guards. Three surrounded the house and two were patrolling the grounds with the nearest being ten feet from the end stable.
Dale lay on his stomach and wriggled away from the fence, ensuring that he stayed as low as possible. He detected no movement, but the deep, dark shadows spilling from the stable complex ensured Dale moved more cautiously than normal. He gazed at the guards and noted that two were on mobile phones, one was smoking and the other two had stopped for a chat. Their lack of concentration was clear evidence that intruders were a rarity which gave Dale enough confidence to move into the stables.
He did not find what he expected.
When he was a teenager, Dale had volunteered at the local police station for two months to show any future employers that he was eager to succeed. Unfortunately he had been put to work in the horse stables for that entire time and became familiar with the acrid smell of stale urine and large foul lumps of dung. Ferrero Santiano's stables sported rubber lined stalls, paved flooring and fine brickwork. There were all the usual saddlery, rugs, straw and food bins, but something was missing. At first, he could not pinpoint what it was, but it eventually dawned on him. There was no smell of horse, and on further investigation, no horse hair. In fact, Dale wondered if these stables had ever seen horses at all.
He edged cautiously through the shadowy building until he reached the second stall from the end. A crunching noise stopped him in his tracks. Dale dove for cover under the straw, hitting his left shoulder against the concrete floor. His bones groaned under the pressure.
He was way too old for this.
By the rumble of the diesel engine and fierce screech of the brakes attempting to bring a heavy load to a halt, Dale could tell that it was a truck. A number of doors slammed and within a few moments, the shuffle of many feet approached his position.
Other than the occasional whisper, there was no noise which Dale found odd, considering he estimated at least twenty people stood only three feet from him. Temptation proved too hard to resist, so Dale pushed aside enough straw to see a group of very young children forced into a cluster. They had hackles around their ankles, ropes around their wrists and tape over their mouths and eyes. Their lack of resistance and general movement led him to believe they had been drugged which was confirmed moments later when their captor gave each one a needle in the arm.
Dale could not believe what he was seeing.
The captors cleared the straw away from the first stall and lifted a hatch concealed underneath. They forced the children one by one into the darkened space below. The children obliged without argument.
Dale felt ill, sickened to his very core.
His initial reaction was to jump to his feet, shoot the captors and free the children, but he feared outing Ferrero Santiano would cause the entire operation to close down before they could infiltrate the core. He needed to save these children and find the Senator without alerting him to the loss of his captives.
His good friend Antony Larrami, the current DCIA (Director of the Central Intelligence Agency) was just the person he needed.
Fifteen minutes passed until the men secured the hatch and left in the large, fully enclosed single cabin truck, normally used for furniture removal. Dale immediately rang Antony Larrami and secured the childrens' freedom. He would have men here within the hour. This gave Dale exactly fifty-five minutes to get into the home and find the information he needed.
With years of covert operation behind him, Dale quickly lured the two men walking the grounds by creating a small fire in the bushes. He shot them before hurrying to a large oak and using it as cover until the guard on the front porch wandered by. Dale hesitated. His best combat years were behind him and the ability to take a life without a conscience had long since passed. He had to visualise the image of the poor children, some as young as two, before he could snap the man's neck.
With the element of surprise on his side, Dale easily overwhelmed the inexperienced guard at the rear door and crept unseen through the living area and up the finely crafted oak stairs to the second floor. He would have normally taken the opportunity to search the den and other rooms on the ground level, but the visual of two guards on the upper balcony informed him of the Senator's position.
He did not have time to waste.
The red carpet symbolised riches and power as did the family portraits and busts that lined the long bowling alley style hall. Large crystal chandeliers hung in regular intervals along with equally elaborate wall-mounted lights designed to resemble diamond teardrops. At least a dozen ornate doors were visible from the landing that gave equally exquisite views to the parquetry-inlaid galley style entrance hall below. As Dale had entered through the rear, he had not seen the glorious foyer that sported gold leaf chairs, handmade rugs and life-sized paintings, all gained at the expense of innocents. It made his blood boil.
With his nerves on edge, Dale was fortunate that the noise of the vacuum cleaner hid his steps as he tiptoed down the hall. The two cleaning trolleys and open doors to the right of his position automatically indicated that the Senator was in the opposite direction, his deduction proving correct as a couple of male voices echoed from a room nearby.
Dale could not stay in the hall for fear of being caught, so he moved into the room in question, noting that it had a small adjoining alcove.
Ferrero Santiano was in the alcove.
Dale paused and listened. A man with a small voice that reminded him of a timid mouse was busy complying to Santiano's every whim! All he could hear was 'yes, Sir. No, Sir,' with the fear of not meeting the demands greater than having to live with his conscience. The man was most likely young and inexperienced, caught up by the power Santiano represented. He felt sorry for him.
Santiano was sitting at his desk. He was a dark-haired, dark-skinned man with a large moustache, a solid upper frame and tattoos on his arms. His eyes were small and arrogant, his mouth twisted tightly in a snide grin and he had a large bulbous nose. He wore designer suit pants with an elaborate buckled belt and a short sleeve shirt, designed to belittle anyone who was of a lower social or monetary status, and an abundance of gold jewellery.
Dale listened carefully, peering through the door as Santiano gave the young man orders.
'The truck will be here by midnight tonight. The children must be prepared and loaded for immediate departure. You know how Arun is if they do not arrive on time and with a twenty-four hour journey ahead of them, it's going to be tight.'
Campeche was approximately that distance from here, but their previous attempts to locate a facility in that region had been a failure. Dale wondered if it was better to let the children be taken by Santiano to the facility and then follow them, but twenty-four hours was too long a time. If he was to assist his daughter at all, he had to uncover Arun's lair in less than twelve hours.
'Yes, Sir. I will ensure all is ready for you. We will leave right on schedule under the cover of darkness,' said the thin young man with a mop of blond hair. When he turned, Dale also noted the darkened circles around his eyes and the intense expression of sadness and loss. He was not a happy man.
Seeking cover between the wall and door, Dale waited for the boy to depart before drawing his semi automatic pistol and boldly entering the small room. He closed the door behind him.
'You better have a bloody good excuse to interrupt me,' said Santiano, presuming it was the young man who had returned and not bothering to look up from his paperwork.
'Too right. A better excuse than you could imagine,' muttered Dale, his voice neither malicious nor angry as he pointed the muzzle directly at the Senator's forehead.
He was simply doing his job.
Santiano looked up in surprise, the expression of astonishment quickly becoming anger at the unexpected intrusion and threat on his life. 'Who the bloody hell are you?!' he spat heatedly.
'Just someone who has a little bit of sympathy for the children you are holding in your stables.
Santiano's dark skin flushed with anger. The veins on his forehead expanded and he clenched his fists. His dark brown eyes fired daggers as Santiano tried to collect himself.
'You are trespassing. Get out of my home before I call my guards.'
'Go ahead,' taunted Dale. 'I neutralised them when I entered your home. Right now it's only you and me.'
Santiano blinked uncertainly, contemplating his response.
Dale moved around and buried the muzzle into his ear.
'I know about you and Arun Keane, your little cocaine business and the use of children as your slaves. You take them when they are too young to remember, bring them to your little camp and brainwash them to do your bidding.'
Dale was winging it now, but the look of disbelief on Santiano's face told him he was right. 'I want to know where the camp is. If you tell me, I'll let you live. If you don't, your brains will make a nice addition to that wonderful painting on your wall.'
Dale looked down momentarily, prompted by Santiano who had begun to wriggle uncomfortably in his chair. He had wet his pants. The strong man with the tattoos who allegedly feared no one had pissed himself.
Dale chuckled and Santiano looked mortified. He grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and shoved it at Dale. A quick glance revealed a detailed map.
Dale had no intention of killing the Senator; he was far more valuable alive. He bound the man's hands securely behind his back, taped his mouth and eyes and pushed him out of the room.
Unfortunately he could not risk leaving him in the home as it was likely he would be found by the maids and released, putting his scheme in jeopardy. The last remaining well-meaning guard witnessed their hasty departure and attacked Dale from behind, but Dale was prepared. His ageing body somehow managed to swing around in record time, allowing him to outstretch his hands and collect the man across the neck. The guard fell heavily to the ground, hitting his head on the Italian porcelain tiles and dying on impact. Blood ran from his ears as Dale pulled him outside and pushed him under the rear deck.
Securing the Senator to a metal ring inside a stall of the stable complex, Dale rang Antony Larrami and informed him that he had an extra person to collect.
He had made it out in fifty minutes.
Richard did his best to steady his nerves, but to be honest, he was incredibly scared. He felt the full weight of responsibility to save his friends and partner on his shoulders and he feared failure. Their lives hung on his next few decisions and even the unwavering love and trust in Julia's eyes did nothing to quell the uncomfortable sensation of fear.
He glanced at Julia and she dipped her head in the same manner he had seen many times over the years. It was her way of showing support even if she feared the outcome.
Richard sighed. His only regret was that he had never asked her to marry him and he had no idea why. To him, life was complete. He had a loving, supportive partner who shared his passion about archaeology and they had a beautiful family and home -- everything he wanted! Yet Julia had often intimated to the fact that it was the only thing she felt was lacking. He owed it to her to correct his mistake and vowed to surprise her when they escaped.
Richard weighed up the situation at hand. He had only one grappling hook at his disposal and no more than an hour to move four people. He did not need to be a mathematician to know that he was short on time, taking into account that it took Redmond twenty minutes just to reach the roof. If he was able to climb and save Redmond, this would allow him access to a second hook which he could use to haul two people up in quick succession. A spare twenty minutes would remain for the final person.
The only question was: who was going to be the last person?
'Okay, people, we have a decision to make. I have calculated that we have an hour before the rope breaks. I will go first and try to obtain the grappling hook from Redmond which I will drop along with mine. Two people will go next and one person will have to be last. My only demand is that Julia comes after me.'
'I will go last,' offered Fred as Mitchell's face lit with a mix of relief and guilt.
Richard eyed Fred with deliberation. His offer was chivalrous and brave, but the speed in which it was delivered took him by surprise. There was no way that anyone in their right mind would want to go last, yet Fred seemed very comfortable with his decision.
It was an odd reaction, but he wondered if he was misreading the situation. Richard shook his head in disgust. What was he thinking? There was no way Fred would have an ulterior motive. Predicting this situation would have been impossible and there was definitely no way out.
Richard accepted the offer with thanks.
'Good luck,' whispered Julia as she handed Richard her belt and grappling hook.
Richard quickly blew her a kiss before aiming the hook into the path of the preceding rope and holding his breath.
The hook flew straight and true, lodging itself less than an inch away from the clasp that precariously supported the unconscious Redmond.
With the agility of a much younger man, Richard employed his ascender and began to climb the cable. He made good time, reaching the desired height in less than eight minutes before swinging loose and catapulting himself towards the tool room. Redmond had already completed the hard work by opening the small space, making it easier for Richard to gain momentum and hurtle himself forwards.
His first attempt was unsuccessful, but his second effort brought him close enough to the obsidian wall to allow him a last minute grab at the rock before gravity yanked him away.
Richard held on for dear life, using all of his remaining strength to draw his body forwards and up into the small room before switching on a torch.
He had to think quickly. Redmond's lack of movement meant that he would need to reel him in unaided. He shone his small torch about the interior of the cave in search of an item that would suit his needs, quickly locating a long wooden pole amongst the pile of antiquities. It sported a strange hook that left no clue as to its intended use, but on this occasion it was perfect.
His worn and tired muscles screamed in pain as he stretched out towards his companion, taking two attempts before success. The hook slipped over the rope and the remaining archaeologists cheered from below as Richard hoisted and pulled, edging Redmond ever closer to the room. It took a further two minutes and an extreme lather of sweat before his young friend could be heaved to safety.
Even then, Richard did not delay. He ensured Redmond was secure and checked the time. Forty-one minutes remained when Richard threw the grappling hooks down to the stricken lift. His aim was true, but he held onto the rope from his end until he could be sure that Mitchell had secured it correctly.
All that was left was to wait. Success rested solely on those below.
Richard turned his attention momentarily to Redmond who had just started to make incomprehensible sounds and slight body movements. A touch of his forehead and feel of his pulse revealed a lack of temperature and even blood pressure, giving him an immediate sense of relief.
Redmond was going to be fine.
At least that was one less worry for him although the sound coming from the shaft immediately overrode any respite he may have experienced. Julia and Mitchell had used one grappling hook and ascender, each arriving at the correct horizontal angle to swing over to the room at the same time. Unfortunately Mitchell had swung sideways, entangling his rope with Julia's who was desperately trying to twist around and free herself. Richard checked his time. Twenty-five minutes to go and the rope holding the lift had started to unravel. Time was running out for Fred who was still waiting patiently on the roof of the lift although Richard could see the tension in his body.
It took a further five to six minutes before Julia and Mitchell swung one at a time to the safety of the small room and quickly unhook their lines, which Richard threw immediately to Mitchell. To his dismay, his first throw was unsuccessful and Richard was forced to re-launch. He also noticed that only a few strands of rope stood between Fred and death.
It was happening again.
Richard recalled the death of a colleague at the beginning of his career during the archaeological dig in Mycenae and drew comparisons to this situation. The man in question was being lowered into a concealed well when the rope caught on a sharp piece of protruding iron, causing it to break and the man to fall to his death. Although it was not his fault, the dig had been Richard's idea and he was never able to forgive himself for not checking for obstructions.
He suffered the same hopeless feeling as he had all those years ago.
There was nothing Richard could do to save Fred. He hoped and prayed that the rope held.
'Hurry, Fred!' screamed Julia as Fred wasted precious time glancing up at the fast disintegrating rope before releasing the grappling hook. It successfully connected with the target and Fred tied the rope to his waist.
What happened next was akin to a slow motion horror movie as the little group looked on, helpless, their mouths agape in dismay.
Fred ascended up and away from the roof of the lift with a smile on his face. His demeanour was one of relief and delight as he appeared unhurried and relaxed. In his mind, the danger had passed until the last piece of rope snapped and sent the lift plummeting to the base of the shaft. In an automatic response to being released from the oppressive weight of the room, the cable ricocheted upward at an incredible speed. It connected with the line that held Fred's life in its grasp.
Although Fred was not a lightweight, he was absolutely helpless as the cord bounced unrestrained around the room, treating him like a defenceless rag doll. It eventually slammed his head against the obsidian wall twice and caused rope burn across his face and hands.
Fred screamed in agony and fear as the lift impacted with the base of the shaft. The resultant explosion of centuries old dirt and debris rebounded upwards at an enormous rate, filling the tunnel in seconds.
Once again Fred was at the mercy of an event that he could not control, only this time it was not so kind. The force of the impact and sudden movement it created, along with centuries of stress, had created microscopic cracks in the eye-like stone above. As if in a bad story, the stone split and crumbled, falling away from the roof in increasingly large chunks.
Richard looked at Fred and saw a once proud and fit man overcome with injury and failure. The outcome was inevitable and as the last remaining piece of rock gave way, Fred managed once last gesture of friendship. He waved.
Then he was gone.
Julia burst into tears as did Mitchell and the fully conscious Redmond but not Richard; he was numb with shock and feelings of failure. Tears would do little to alleviate the sense of guilt he was suffering. Common sense told him he was not at fault and that it was no more than a bad series of events, but he did not believe that. There must have been something else he could have done, something he missed. Perhaps if he been quicker, or even if he had been last instead of leaving it to Fred. Then there was Gillian. She had just lost her fiancé and did not know it! How was he going to explain this to her?
Richard sat on the dirt floor with his head in his hands until Julia came and sat next to him. She put her arms around his shoulders and whispered in his ear. 'Some things are simply out of our control and if it were not for you, we would all be dead. Be thankful for the lives you have saved and respectful for the one we have lost. We need to mourn our friend, not feel guilty for uncontrollable events.'
She was right as usual and they all formed a circle to grieve for Fred.
The tendrils of darkness spread across the glorious ruins of Tikal just as the full moon rose to take its rightful place in the night sky. It shone brightly, desperately trying to make an appearance between the rain filled clouds but was shut out by the on again-off again storm. What little light it provided sprinkled amongst the dismal events that were unfolding below.
Samuel had ordered the helicopter to land on one of the long abandoned ball courts before making his way past the long shadows created by the towering and imposing pyramids. His destination was the stronghold created by a group of guards placed at the site by his ahaw. The men were highly trained in martial arts and marksmanship and were often deployed by Ahaw when a situation required protection. In this case they were used to keep out any intruders and to hold captive the men installed by Dale Bright. Due to his ahaw's high rank and status amongst the governing bodies of the country, he had managed to muscle his way into the Tikal National Park under the proviso of doing necessary government ordered repairs. In turn the national park had informed all of the local and international travel agents that the park was temporarily closed to tourists and various archaeologists. It was the perfect cover for the ahaw to carry out his activities in private.
Samuel acknowledged the guards with a nod of his head as they lowered their rifles and allowed him into the highly fortified area. Ahaw had given him complete leadership over the mission and Samuel thoroughly enjoyed the power it provided. He took every opportunity to take advantage of his situation from ordering the men to prepare coffees and meals to ensuring he was constantly kept updated about the progress of the dig.
Samuel prided himself in keeping a tight ship and he did not tolerate any men who stepped out of line. Only this morning Samuel whipped the head off a guard who dared to argue against a direct order to hunt a jaguar. Samuel simply could not understand why the man did not want to hunt at night. It was beyond his comprehension that he would disobey him and not bring him the pelt he so desired.
Sitting down for a specially prepared supper of fruit and bread, Samuel was interrupted by a cough at the tent door.
'Excuse me,' said Donnel, an overweight, middle-aged man who resembled the caricature of a hardened, uncaring police officer. He had an unlined, unsmiling oval face with narrow eyes, pinched lips and portly cheeks. His eyes reflected a lack of sympathy but also a deep sadness that suggested he had gone beyond caring what people thought of him and only tended to his own needs.
'The men want to know if you want them to break through the obsidian walls lining the shaft,' his voice short and direct. There was no respect in his eyes, only a drive to earn the promised income.
'No, the informer in Dale Bright's team told us to locate a tunnel at the base of the shaft which was confirmed by a copy of the scans he provided. Breaking into the shaft and saving the archaeologists is a waste of our time,' said Samuel with no emotion.
'I was under the impression that they have the intelligence needed to help us locate the disk,' replied Donnel.
'Our directives have changed. Unfortunately the disk perished in the helicopter fire along with the woman and the Australian. We are seeking a far greater treasure.' Samuel licked his lips at the thought of what they might find -- gold, jade, precious artefacts. He could think of no other reason why the engineer of this tunnel would construct such an elaborate trap and treasure hunt unless the prize was precious beyond belief. Much to his pleasure, his ahaw had agreed with him and fully backed his endeavour to discover where the tunnel led.
He dismissed Donnel with instructions to keep digging, knowing full well that he would have him killed when it was over. Donnel was useful for keeping the men in order, but he was driven by his own agenda and was likely to steal from him. Samuel could not risk a loose cannon!
With the images of a vast treasure swirling around, Samuel considered his actions over the last few days. This had been his first espionage mission and he had been looking forward to it with great anticipation. In particular was the opportunity to use his mind and intelligence by hunting the woman and her Australian friend. Unfortunately the journey was fraught with dangers of the psychological kind.
By following them, he had gained knowledge of their behaviours and mannerisms which unwittingly caused him to lose his purpose. He found himself dwelling on the woman more often than he cared to admit, but his thoughts were not of a sexual nature. There was something about her that he admired, a strength accompanied by an indomitable spirit that he had not seen before. It was for this reason that he could not mention her name for fear of developing a familiarity he would only need to remove. It was so unlike him to suffer uncertainty that he took to asking the gods for their understanding of his weakness.
Samuel performed his usual bloodletting in the hope that the gods would forgive his traitorous thoughts, but even this tried and true formula did not distract him from a long lost emotion that had crept into his awareness. The sensation crawled about his body like a nest of invading ants as they explored every nook and cranny. It was a warm but tingly feeling of familiarity that he could not place and despite his every effort to quell the discomfort, it defied him and continued to grow.
Samuel was a strong man with a singular purpose to serve his ahaw, but even he knew that he must identify and shut down any emotions that could cause him to stray from his plan. His life had been formed by the unyielding and often callous hand of his ahaw. He had learnt the benefit of a strict training regime and the punishment required to bring out the best in a person. Fear was a great motivator as was the loyalty this created. Samuel ensured that he passed these qualities on to his men. They knew that disloyalty brought death. Still, with his steely resolve firmly in place, Samuel could not shake his sudden awareness of something other than hate, fear or determination. It was a long lost feeling that he was afraid to rediscover.
He frowned uneasily. The rain was pounding the waterproof canvas tent with an increasing intensity that could delay the dig. He knew the guise of restoration would only last so long and it was imperative that they finish within a couple of days at the outside.
He gazed at the door of the marquee furnished with a table, chairs, fold-up bed and superior bedding and hoped that the rain would ease quickly. Not only was the dig important, but he had intended to travel to Palenque tomorrow. Over the past couple of days, he had followed the woman, tracking her activities with a new high resolution Nikon camera. Despite her death and the now defunct necessity to get their hands on the disk, Samuel had the distinct feeling that there was more on her agenda than just saving the archaeologists. They were clearly following a trail of clues, reiterated by the three unusual paintings found at the Australian's house. His curiosity got the better of him. His interest had been whetted.
Samuel's moment of contemplation passed when an unexpected shout from the workers resonated across the lush landscape. He sighed and reluctantly stood up, moving away from the cooling 'generator run' fan into the stifling night heat. Samuel was well adept to the Central American weather, but he easily recalled his first forage from the cool haven of his home, deep in the bowels of the mountains into the temperature of the outside world. Initially he had been overwhelmed by the change in environment and activity surrounding him, but he absorbed the stimulation like drought ridden foliage. It had been a delight to his senses and he still revelled in the changes it offered, although tonight was a little too extreme. The rain-filled clouds trapped the humidity like a blanket and Samuel inhaled deeply as he went to determine the cause of the disturbance.
'Sir, we have had an intruder,' a slender young man exclaimed frantically as he pointed towards the line of vehicles parked within the boundary of protection.
'That is not possible,' scowled Samuel as he surveyed the fleet and noted that one of the four jeeps was missing.
'I cannot accept that one of the captives escaped or that we have a traitor in our midst!' Samuel raged. He was furious and longed to punish whoever was responsible.
The young man shrank back in fear as Donnel stepped forward and looked Samuel in the eye. 'All captives are accounted for as are all of our men,'
'Well, who the bloody hell took it, then?'
No one responded.
Samuel was so angry that he longed to remove the heads of the guards who failed to protect their belongings, but he knew that would achieve little. It was one thing to keep a tight rein on his men, but he also wanted them to work hard for him and he knew there was a fine line between loyalty and mutiny. Anyway, another almost impossible thought had entered his conscience. What if the woman had survived! Their helicopter was destroyed and this camp was the only place that would contain the means for escape. He deliberated thoughtfully. If this were the case, the dark and hazardous conditions of the jungle would mean they could do little tonight.
He would wait until the morning.
Georgio stepped from the cavern with caution, followed closely by Adam. It had been decided that Georgio would go first considering he was the one with combat experience and Adam was the beginner, although he was catching on fast. He had learnt more about conflict and survival in the last three days than he had in his entire life although he was yet to decide if he actually enjoyed the fast paced, adrenaline filled existence. There was something considerably more enticing about sitting in the safety of his small home than being dragged through a hazard-filled jungle in Guatemala.
The weather had taken hold and although it was pouring with rain, the heat was oppressive and Adam removed his jacket.
'Put that back on,' ordered Georgio as Adam glanced questioningly at him. 'Your green shirt looks like a vibrant parrot and could attract unwanted attention.'
'It's not bloody bright anymore, Mate. Look at the amount of dirt it has on it,' Adam complained as he hoisted his brown jacket onto his shoulders.
'It's hard to imagine you're a clean-cut schoolteacher,' commented Georgio in good humour as Adam gazed at himself.
It was true. His kids would not recognise him like this. His slacks, shirt and jacket were ripped, burnt and dirty. His face and hands were full of abrasions and minor cuts and his hair looked as if it had developed a will of its own. He would give anything for a shower right now.
'Come on, Professor,' Georgio teased as Adam placed one foot at a time on the mud track. It was so oily that one false move could mean capture and possible death, forcing Adam to follow Georgio footstep for footstep.
As they encroached on the outer positions of the camp, Georgio put his hand out to stop Adam from colliding with him. 'Over there,' he gestured, pointing towards a nearby tree which provided a small amount of protection for the guard it sheltered. The guard was pressed as close to the tree as possible, his rounded shoulders, ducked head and general disposition clearly revealing that he was far more worried about how uncomfortable he was than the possibility of attack. He was an easy target.
Georgio crept up behind him using the cover of the night and curtain of rain as protection. He was within striking distance before the guard detected his presence, but by then it was too late. Georgio struck him viciously at the base of the neck, rendering him instantly unconscious.
Adam exhaled. He was glad that Georgio was here to do the dirty work.
They pulled the body up behind the tree, ensuring that all appendages were well hidden from any potential viewer before proceeding to crawl across a small open space using the remains of a boundary fence as cover. They quickly reached a grass-covered ruin with a wide archway and buckled walls, taking a moment to enjoy the shelter from the rain and stretch their aching legs.
Georgio chuckled at the sight of Adam's strained face before drawing his attention to a small window that provided a perfect view of Samuel's undertakings.
Adam gazed out of the window, thankful that Samuel had chosen to work through the evening. He had provided a flood lit arena that allowed them see where they were going and it was to their advantage.
'There are three men to the east and the west. Directly in front of us are another dozen men guarding a collection of heavy machinery and we know that there is nothing behind us. I would conclude that the cars are beyond the machinery,' observed Georgio.
'I'd take my chances with the group to the east. For one thing, they look considerably more relaxed in comparison to the ones to the west who seem on high alert as if they are guarding something,' offered Adam.
'Well noted. I'd agree with your observations, but it leaves me wondering who or what they are protecting.'
'It might be the archaeologists. Perhaps the shaft is down there,' offered Adam.
'I don't think so. From what I've heard, the shaft is sealed within a group of ruins and not out in the open. Anyway, Samuel does not wish to save them, so protection would be low on his agenda. I'd lay my bets on the men sent by General Bright. They are highly trained combatants, used to situations exactly like this. If they were allowed to escape, they would pose a major threat to Samuel's activities and could quite possibly shut him down,' said Georgio.
'Doesn't that make you wonder how they were captured in the first place?' mused Adam, his question bringing about a frown of concern from Georgio. Adam looked at the well-muscled, tanned face and noted deep lines of unease appearing in the corners of his mouth. It was clearly a question Georgio had pondered but could not answer. He did not reply and Adam dared not to press, knowing that the men were part of the group Georgio had served with over the years on their various missions. He would know each man intimately and understand the frustration they must be suffering at their capture.
'If we had time, I would free them, but the possibility of being caught would risk the lives of the men, Gillian and the archaeologists.'
Adam could tell that Georgio was not totally convinced.
'It's time to move,' muttered Georgio as he grabbed Adam and gestured towards an approaching group of men, all of whom were armed.
'Follow me,' he hissed as Adam quickly obeyed, thankful that he was not going alone as per the original plan.
They moved in an easterly direction beneath the darkness of the tree line, stopping only to avoid the occasional startled animal. Adam shivered. The forest was full of life with the sound of the howler monkeys and shadows of unidentified creatures adding to the eerie atmosphere. It was further enhanced by the thick teeming rain, dark forest and uncanny glow omitted by the portable generator-run lights Samuel had installed.
Taking care not to create any undue noise, they timed their approach by throwing a stone to create a distraction. When the three men turned their backs to identify the cause of the sound, Adam and Georgio snuck in behind a small overgrown building situated thirty feet from the required position. It created the perfect opportunity to study the challenge ahead and they quickly noted the three men relax after determining the noise did not pose any threat.
Despite his strict regime, Samuel had also provided the men with the protection of a portable shelter made of four retractable legs and a weatherproof canvas roof. It had the dual effect of keeping out the rain but also of lulling the men in a false feeling of security. Within moments they were busy chatting and lighting cigarettes.
It was time to strike.
Georgio looked at Adam as an unspoken understanding passed between them. Adam instantly realised that Georgio did not expect him to take the lead but to protect his back from any unexpected attack. He nodded in agreement.
His body was tense and his nerves on edge, but Adam felt clear of mind and prepared to do whatever he needed to assist Georgio. He sprang to his feet as Georgio leapt forward, targeting the man closest to him. The medium height, balding man did not even see it coming. With stealth-like ability of a man half his age, Georgio ran low to the ground, covering the thirty feet in a few leaps. He wrapped his thick arms around the man's neck and snapped it in an instant.
In the moment it took for the two other men to realise their companion had died, Georgio had made a beeline for a tall, black-haired Asian. The benefit of surprise had been lost and the Asian reacted instinctively by swinging a left hook at Georgio. Georgio ducked and slammed a fist up into his unprotected rib cage. He gasped in surprise but returned the punch with his right fist. The rain was impeding Georgio's efforts and he slipped when he attempted to return the attack, but he used his misadventure to his benefit. He slid along the ground, grabbing the man by his knees and pulling him down with him. They rolled over with Georgio eventually getting the upper hand and pinning the man beneath him.
The third man, of native American descent, dove for the twosome and managed to punch Georgio in his kidneys. Up until then, Adam had largely remained unnoticed which proved to his benefit. He knew he would not win in a fist fight, so he grabbed the first thing available to him -- a rock -- and whacked it over the head of his opponent. The man crumpled instantly along with his companion when Georgio slammed his fist into his upper jaw and temple, rendering him instantly unconscious.
'Phew!' exclaimed Georgio as they quickly pulled the men into a circle and sat them upright to create the effect that they were still in attendance. 'It was a good thing we managed that without gunfire although anything would have been better than your girly rock throwing. Whatever happened to the manly fist fight?'
Adam grinned. 'By the look of your developing bruises and my totally unwounded body, I'll go the girly option anytime.'
Georgio grimaced and favoured his kidneys. 'Okay, smart arse, you win.'
'So, where from here?' asked Adam.
'We're one step closer and if you look straight ahead, you can actually see the vehicle compound. The only thing I can envisage standing between us and our goal is the roving guards. See, there's a group directly ahead, but if we stick to the left we should be able to pass them.'
Adam nodded. 'What about Gillian?'
'Let's locate a vehicle first. I'll hot-wire the car and you can go back for her,' stated Georgio.
Adam did not reply. He was not keen on leaving without the protection of Georgio, but neither was he capable of starting a vehicle without the keys. He had no option but to agree.
They approached a vast open space and dodged the circle of light spilling out from the nearest lantern. Once again, the trees provided cover, but a zealous guard caught a slight movement from the corner of his eye and gestured in their direction. Adam quickly alerted Georgio who responded by pointing to the lowlying branches on the jungle boundary.
They ran and jumped with Adam gasping loudly as a large creature moved from behind them.
Georgio smirked in amusement but grew serious as the voices of the guards closed in on their position. They stopped three feet from their concealment.
'There's nothing here. It must have been an animal. After all, the forest is full of them,' said a guard in a genial tone of voice that revealed his lack of belief in his companions.
'Perhaps you're right. Anyway, who would be stupid enough to be out here in the middle of night amid all this rain. What do you think Caton?' asked a second deep-voiced youth.
'Hmm ... you can never be too careful,' replied Caton with the authority of a superior. 'I would prefer a thorough search,' he insisted as they started to obey but were interrupted by a shout from the nearby tent calling them to a meeting.
Adam sighed in relief and turned to Georgio with a smile on his face but was met with a look of pure wrath. He shrank back in disbelief. He had seen Georgio with fury in his eyes before but nothing that matched the current hatred. Was it something he did? He had no idea. All he could do was wait and hope Georgio revealed his problems, which thankfully came sooner rather than later.
Georgio exploded with an array of expletives that would make any innocent person blush. 'He was my friend, loyal to our troop and to Dale Bright. I can't believe he's a bloody traitor. It was Caton who led us to safety on two missions and we treated him like a brother, yet here he is, commanding that small group and clearly the one who helped Samuel capture Dale's men. He placed the lives of all the men here in the hands of that monster. God help me if they are harmed because of his disloyal actions. I will kill him,' his threat so easily voiced that Adam knew he was not joking.
Without adding to the conversation, Georgio got up and began to hurry towards the vehicles. The meeting provided a few minutes of safety and they quickly scanned the group of eleven vehicles. There were two small jeeps, three large people movers, one high-powered four-wheel drive and five four-wheel drive trucks used to transport all of the equipment used on site. The logical choice was one of the small jeeps which were perfectly situated furthest away from the main living areas. They chose the last one, which was unlocked.
'Samuel must be feeling extremely secure, which makes me fear what might happen when he finds out we've infiltrated his camp. By observing the outer perimeter's checks, I'd say you have ten minutes at best to fetch Gillian.'
Adam did not delay. He ran back as fast as his legs could take him, returning with Gillian in exactly ten minutes. It was fortuitous that the meeting had only just broken up and they made their escape under the cover of a sudden and well-timed thunderous storm that passed overhead.
Gillian, Adam and Georgio sped along the road under the cover of darkness and a passing storm. They had been fortunate enough to make an easy getaway, but Georgio did not sit on his laurels. He pushed the little six cylinder vehicle to the full extent of its power, taking the bends like a formula one race car. Gillian gripped the panic handle as if her life depended on it, only looking back just long enough to see Adam puke in the back seat. She grimaced in disgust but was able to sympathise with him; Georgio was driving like a man possessed.
The bumps, twists and turns became an endless roller-coaster as the vehicle rose to the challenge, leaping the obstacles and tilting on two wheels to avoid the road blocks. Eventually Georgio slowed and Gillian let out a long sigh of relief. 'What on earth was that?'
'Just trying to get us as far away as possible,' said Georgio.
'Do you even know where we're going?' asked Gillian.
'No, and I didn't see any other roads, did you?' said Georgio sheepishly.
'Palenque is north of our position and from what I can gather, we are travelling north-east. We'll miss it by miles at this rate,' said Gillian as she took out a small travelling compass.
'The best way to get there is via the tourist route, but it is likely Samuel would have radioed ahead to warn any scouts of our escape. This is the first place they'll look, leaving us little option but to find an alternative,' she added as she produced a small but accurate map of the ancient Mayan trade routes. 'If this map is correct, we must be less than half a mile away from the original Mayan roads.'
'Yeah, 600 year old roads that have likely vanished by now,' contributed Adam as he leant forward.
Gillian wrinkled up her nose. 'Your breath smells of vomit.'
Adam sat back in his seat.
'We've been lucky up until now, but if my ageing eyes are correct, I can see lights up ahead,' said Georgio.
'Me too,' agreed Adam.
'How far to this track?'
'We should be almost on it,' replied Gillian as Georgio swung immediately to the left. It was clear he was taking a risk, but he had calculated the distance between the oncoming vehicle and the time it would take to escape into the cover of the trees. He was left with no option but to hope Gillian was right.
Everyone held their breaths, fully expecting to dive over an unseen cliff or end up in an all too common quagmire, but the tyres held firm, striking a patch of dirt that had been compacted to concrete-like hardness after thousands of years of use.
'You're good, Gillian,' congratulated Adam as she grinned with a contented smugness.
'Yes, but we still have a long way to go,' noted Georgio as the four-wheel drive battled through the trees like a bulldozer, occasionally grinding against a fallen tree and unseen rock. The rain had also begun to ease which assisted Georgio with determining the direction of the old path. He was only thankful that the Mayans were known for their large and exceptionally maintained roads. Although they did not have vehicles or beasts of burden, these roads provided each city with their livelihood. They were as important to their society as the temples and homes. Even after years of uninhibited jungle growth, the roads remained, assisted by the numerous animals that continued to use them long after the Mayan civilisation fell into disrepair.
Gillian purposely did not disrupt Georgio from his task, choosing to use the time constructively and uncover the final remaining clue.
'Whilst we've got some time to kill, let's get to work on this last clue.' Her comments were met with silence and a lack of humour from Georgio who swerved to miss a wayward jaguar. His quick reaction and utter concentration saved them from catapulting down the ridge they were travelling over.
'Okay. Now I have a few moments,' Georgio grumbled as the terrain levelled.
'Unfortunately I can't read the second part of Kinix's diary due to the lack of light, but I do recall him writing about a visit to Palenque,' said Gillian.
'I'm sure he visited Palenque many times throughout his life, so what makes this visit so special?' queried Adam.
'On his arrival at Palenque, Kinix was instantly recognised as the great healer of Tikal. His timing proved to be fortunate for the king, B'utz Aj Sak Chiik who was unwell and not expected to live. Kinix was able to heal him and extend his life for a further six months which ultimately led to his acceptance as an honored guest. During this time, Kinix also reunited the prince Ahkal Mo'Naab with his people and it was this that secured a permanent safe haven for him whenever he needed it. As the final clue is in Palenque, it makes sense that Kinix used these ties to go back and hide the final box,' said Gillian.
'And if we follow the same clues as we did with the last two locations, the painting will prove helpful in discovering the location,' added Adam.
'What paintings?' queried Georgio.
'I inherited three paintings, and the disk we initially thought was the key, from my grandparents. It turns out the paintings are vital in determining the locations of the hiding spots of Kinix's clues,' advised Adam.
'That's interesting, but I wonder how they ended up with your grandparents. From what I've heard about Kinix and the effort he's gone to hide his secret, I find it hard to believe that he would hand out the disk and three paintings without a purpose. So, why you?' questioned Georgio.
Adam remained silent. He had often considered the same question. With the many of millions of people on this planet, why him? How did plain old Adam Housner, a simple schoolteacher, end up tangled in the midst of a 1500 year old mystery. That was a mystery in itself.
'So, what did the third painting show?' asked Georgio as Gillian reached for the small brown leather satchel she had found in the storage cave in Tikal.
Adam searched the back seat and handed Gillian a small torch.
'The drawing of the temple at Palenque clearly depicts the Olvidado Temple, but it is the painting that gives the clue.' Gillian left it to Adam to continue.
'I always found the final painting the most fascinating. Not only is it the most colourful, but the small man we believe is Kinix is squatting instead of standing as he is in the other two paintings. His robe is also more elaborate and although his facial features are not distinguishable, his general posture is considerably more apprehensive. It's as if he had constipation.' Adam chuckled, amused at the memory of the vision, that was not shared by either Georgio or Gillian.
They sat silently with a smirk on their faces, waiting for Adam to continue.
Sour buggers, he thought before commencing his story.
'Anyway, Kinix was definitely pointing to the pyramid behind him but more towards the ground as distinct to the Pyramid of the Masks where he was indicating to a position further up the side,' said Adam as Gillian interrupted.
'And if I remember rightly, Temple Olvidado is not a pyramid like the others. It is an arched building that sits atop a stepped mound that belongs to the unexcavated Olvidado Group. It is the least known area of Palenque but was most likely to be the religious centre in 500 AD. It makes sense that this would be the correct temple, and the lack of side steps would definitely indicate a hidden room.'
'Hidden room. No one said anything about a hidden room,' said Adam, his voice resonating with confusion.
'Yes, there was. It's in the second diary,' said Gillian. 'Kinix makes mention of being given the honour of learning the secret sacrificial opening of the great temple for his sanctuary. This corresponds with your description of the painting. The drawing in the small diary also gives fuel to this argument. It shows the same temple.'
'Okay, so it's agreed. We are heading to the Olvidado Temple,' said Georgio as the small jeep leapt over a tiny hump in the road and landed into a lowlying stream. Water flew everywhere and the occupants of the vehicle were tossed about like rubber dolls.
'Shit,' swore Georgio as he battled to steer the wayward vehicle in the right direction. With his arms straining and sweat pouring from his forehead, Georgio was the picture of intense concentration. Adam, on the other hand, prayed that the vehicle was well serviced and that the steering column would not buckle under the pressure.
Anxiety reigned supreme as the battle between the deceivingly fast-running stream and the small vehicle continued until the jeep spun sideways and started to drift. The engine roared to the full extent of its power and the small wheels battled to find firm ground. Georgio continued to accelerate, ensuring that he did not let the vehicle stall. The car behaved admirably, responding by finding a strip of gravel and taking full advantage of the temporary firmness. It lurched forward and seemingly grew wings as it threw itself up onto the far bank. Both Gillian and Adam cheered simultaneously and even Georgio couldn't resist a grin of victory until a fast-travelling light took away all feelings of exhilaration.
'What was that?' asked Gillian as the light suddenly vanished.
'Samuel,' said Georgio as he veered to the right, down a barely visible track.
'We are facing an impossible task. Three of us up against a group of trained mercenaries. He'll kill us as soon as he has the information he needs,' said Adam.
'Then we need to hope that either Dale makes a breakthrough and uncovers the identity of Samuel's boss or we outwit him and make it back in time to save the archaeologists,' muttered Georgio.
'We simply cannot give up on Fred and Richard. If I don't try my best to save Fred, I'll never be able to live with myself,' said Gillian angrily.
'Don't misunderstand me, Gillian. I have no intention of failing, but I do fear that we may be too late. I think we need to come to terms with the fact that it is likely we will lose them all,' said Georgio as Adam could not resist squeezing Gillian comfortingly on the shoulder. Despite her lack of conversation about Fred, Adam knew that Gillian was extremely worried although he did admit to finding it a little odd that she spoke far more about Richard than her own fiancé. It was clear that she cared deeply for the older man as a father figure, but he wondered just how much Fred actually meant to her. Gillian was a strange enigma to him. She was very smart and beautiful, but there was also a coldness that he couldn't quite place. Instinctively he felt that it would be a tough task to try to understand her.
Gillian patted Adam's hand fondly, only interrupted when the mysterious light reappeared. At first it was nondescript, no more than an unidentified radiance that was neither threatening nor gloomy. Unfortunately it gradually closed in, travelling slightly faster than they were and in a direction that would clearly cross their path. Georgio tapped the steering wheel with unease as a frown appeared across his forehead. He automatically pushed the car to its limit, but the heavy jungle impeded his progress and the light encroached with infuriating ease.
'He's fast approaching,' said Adam as he leant forward in the back seat.
'It has to be Samuel or his men,' said Gillian as Georgio nodded but did not reply.
The sound emitted by the encroaching vehicle increased to such a din that the contrasting silence in the car spoke volumes to the sudden fear they experienced. Adam did his best to quell the feeling of nervousness as Georgio attempted to outrun whatever it was that had just traversed with them, even sinking into the uncomfortable vinyl seat as far as possible.
It did not help!
The lights of their pursuer shone through the back window as Georgio drove admirably. A cat and mouse chase ensued, but the vehicle behind then was far superior and rammed the small jeep with such force that the three occupants were flung forward. Adam whacked his head against the driver's seat and Gillian hit the dashboard. Georgio yelled with a mix of anger and frustration, pushing the vehicle into a sideways skid in an attempt to control the sudden slide on the damp green earth.
He failed! The vehicle hit them repeatedly.
The ensuing moments were a blur for Adam. All he could recall was hitting his head against the roof as the little vehicle rolled over and careened into a large object before he blacked out.
\*\*\*
Consciousness came gradually. There was little pain with the exception of the egg that was developing on his head, and a quick wriggle of all his limbs revealed everything was intact and working. He sighed in relief but was suddenly abounded by panic when he recalled that Gillian and Georgio had been with him. He had no idea how they were, or if they had even survived.
With a determined frame of mind that involved him overcoming a bout of dizziness and disorientation, Adam sat up. He was met with a supporting hand from Georgio who helped him to his feet.
'Good to see you up and about,' he smiled the comments delivered with a genuine smile and twinkle in his eye.
Adam looked about. The darkness impeded his vision but he could easily make out the inverted wreck of the small jeep and a much larger diesel powered four-wheel drive with a damaged front end. It didn't take much intelligence to know that it had caused the carnage, but the question that was uppermost on his mind was the whereabouts of the men who were driving.
Gillian hobbled slowly to his position. The grimace on her face was the response to a cut on her leg that had been bandaged. 'I was worried about you,' she whispered as she gave him a quick chaste hug he had hoped would be a little more passionate. Never mind. He would take anything he could.
'Thankyou, but you don't look too good either.'
'Ah, it's nothing. Just another war wound to add to the collection.'
Adam smiled. He admired her grit.
'So, the question I'm dying to ask is, where are the men who attacked us?'
'Dead ... all dead. It seems that Caton was not disloyal after all. Apparently, he was not with the group when they were captured, so he improvised and pretended to be one of the men placed on site by Samuel's boss. He used his imposing figure and authority to gain respect and was able to discreetly drop food to his friends.
Not long after our escape, he overheard Samuel saying that he had initially intended not to follow the stolen jeep but that he had changed his mind. He simply could not take the risk of allowing us to reach the final clue first. Caton managed to climb on board the pursuit vehicle and eventually took control. Unfortunately, he was too late to stop the crash, but he did succeed in killing the assassins before they were able to execute us.'
'That's a convenient story,' muttered Adam.
Gillian blinked and pursed her lips. 'What do you mean by convenient? Caton risked his life for us and Georgio has faith in him.'
'You didn't see him with Samuel's men. He was way too comfortable in their company. For someone trying to improvise, he was an expert actor.'
'You're too suspicious, Adam. I trust Georgio's judgement,' replied Gillian stubbornly.
Adam did not comment. It did not take a great deal of intelligence to know that Samuel's men were all highly trained assassins quite capable of noticing an impostor. They would pick an unfamiliar face immediately. He would have to be on his guard.
Arun Keane leant his expansive frame back in his leather recliner and placed his feet, encased in brown Gucci's, on the pad of his expansive oak desk. He traced his fingers over the polished wood grain and recalled the day he had found it at the back of an abandoned antique store. Purchased as an acquisition for his extensive worldwide property portfolio, the store had been vacated with the exception of a rubbish-filled locked room. Arun had ordered it to be immediately opened and cleaned, the desk only coming to light once the piles of papers had been removed. At first it was considered to be like any other old but insignificant desk until Arun began to do some research. He soon discovered that it was a genuine Victorian, especially commissioned and used solely by Queen Victoria herself. How it ended up here was not known, but Arun did manage to locate a record confirming the theft of a furniture container on route to Buckingham Palace.
Since that time, the desk had become his pride as it brought him within the same league as the illustrious Queen.
It gave him shivers of delight.
Chuckling to himself, Arun lit a Cuban cigar and puffed it gently in contemplation. He had been born into a poor family of little means and took to pickpocketing out of desperation. Fortunately, this developed into a thirst for more affluence, which eventually led to a quest for items of greater value. By the young age of thirteen, Arun learnt the importance of antiques and developed a love for the ancient worlds they represented. This was beneficial in turning his rampant need for funds into a burning passion that he was unable to quench.
Once fuelled by this new found desire there was no stopping him and he soon learnt that the easiest way to acquire the objects of his desire was with the funding obtained from drugs.
Drugs were readily available and easy to dispose of. They provided him with an untraceable and endless stream of money, but he was greedy; he wanted more -- more drugs, more money and more antiques -- and the only solution was to manufacture his own drugs in a quantity that suited his appetite.
He wanted to be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. He wanted to leave behind the desperation of his youth and prove that he was worthy of greatness, that he owned the best of everything.
It was then that Arun decided to collect only one item of each group but with a stipulation that it was the finest example of its kind.
His first purchase was the highest clarity pink diamond available, followed quickly by an unrivalled black Australian opal. He continued on this line until he had one of each class of precious gemstone before moving onto paintings. He boasted a Van Gogh, Monet, Rembrandt, Da Vinci and many others, only missing a Picasso, which he was currently in negotiations with at a Paris museum.
He readily admitted that he took whatever means necessary to gain his current aspiration and often resorted to blackmail, quickly creating a vast network of people willing to cater to his every need. And he was generous, offering great sums of money for each transaction.
Arun considered the connections he had built up over the years and grinned in delight. He was so powerful that his influence stretched from the Mexican government to the White House and everyone in between. He had teachers, accountants, museum curators, police officers, shop owners and every other possible connection on his payroll, all funded by his cocaine factory.
Arun was unable to resist a chuckle. He had pulled off a masterpiece of planning and organisation.
When he had realised that the demand for drugs had outstripped his supply, he knew that he would need to manufacture it himself. But where?
He would require a provision that would allow him to process huge amounts of the drugs undetected, along with the facilities to house the people required. Then there was the problem of loyalty. To carry off his plan, he would need a crew that could not be bought.
It took careful consideration, assisted by a third straight glass of Makers Mark whisky, to hatch a plan that involved a Mayan-inspired cult. It was a perfect idea that would allow him to recruit children, the most innocent and easy to manipulate of them all.
All that was required would be the support of a couple of key friends, especially Senator Ferrero Santiano, and true to form, Ferrero had been instrumental in obtaining the children and keeping it under wraps from the government for over forty years. It was such a success that it made both of them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams -- until recently.
Fine cracks had started to appear in their venture and Arun was angry. He had received news that Santiano's home had been raided and the group of new children uncovered. This was a potential disaster that would require immediate rectification.
Santiano had been his closest ally, but Arun had no loyalty to him. He was merely a dispensable cog in the wheel that had once been an important part of the process. But not anymore! He had become increasingly sloppy, choosing children with families who had listed them as missing and leaving the address of the compound on his desk.
Arun was also aware that the threat of interrogation or prison would cause Santiano to crack, leaving no doubt that he would reveal the secret of the sect to save his own arse. He was a liability that Arun could no longer carry, leaving him little option but to nullify the risk.
Without further deliberation, Arun picked up his antique phone and dialled a phone number known only to him.
Tomas answered immediately, listening intently to Arun's orders before hanging up without saying a word.
Arun sighed. Tomas was his personal sharpshooter and his most highly paid employee, earning more than any politician or doctor could dream of. Initially Arun had hesitated at securing this investment for the safety of his business, but it had paid off handsomely in removal of at least half a dozen serious problems to date.
True to form, Tomas rang three hours later and confirmed that the job was successfully completed although Santiano had already arrived at the local police station, which necessitated the need to shoot him whilst he was in custody.
Arun cringed. The police station was normally a no-go zone, but Tomas had a clear view through a window and was far enough away to avoid capture. He also understood the urgency of the situation and pulled out all resources to follow his orders. Arun decided to reward him with an extra 100 000 dollars in this pay.
But his problems were still not over. The person who had infiltrated Ferrero's home posed a serious predicament to his security and Arun had no idea who he was. Until he had received Tomas's call confirming the death of Santiano, he had suppressed his emotions, determined to face one concern at a time, but now he could focus fully on the other issue at hand. An unfamiliar flutter of fear washed over him and he reacted instinctively by throwing his glass against the far wall and watching it smash into hundreds of shards.
It provided no release.
He skolled a straight whisky, catching sight of himself in his gilt mirror as he placed the decanter back on the African blackwood bookshelf. The years had not been kind to him and he had to swap his brooding good looks for those of an old, overweight, balding man. It greatly displeased him, but he still possessed something far more important than looks ... power. Power and money bought him everything he desired, even women who were prepared to close their eyes to his ugliness and treat him like a king. He relished his status more than his own life and would protect it with everything he had. It was for this reason that he must discover the identity of the intruder, and he knew just the man to do the job.
Once again Arun picked up the phone and employed the services of Michael Brewner, an ex-Navy Seal who gave up the fast-paced lifestyle for what he considered was staid detective work. He assisted Arun regularly with anything he needed found, from antiques, long-missing sunken ships, ancient cities and people. It was Michael, a member on the board of the Archaeological Institute, who informed them of the dig at Tikal and also Michael who helped Arun find General Dale Bright in Houston and eradicate the helicopter. Of course, Michael required a portion of every recovery he made, or a suitable pay as compensation, which Arun readily provided.
With his instructions handed out, Arun's thoughts moved to Tikal. This was an interesting dig that had provided much fascination for him and he keenly followed the progress Samuel made.
Samuel was his son, born from Reynata who was one of the original children they had stolen. She had been a delicious find and he had watched ravenously from the moment she reached puberty. With her glorious, long brown hair, blue eyes and sumptuous figure, he had taken her as his chief lady from the moment she reached womanhood, celebrating when his son and heir to his fortune arrived three years later. This was followed quickly by another child, but Arun's joy soon turned to anger and bitterness when his daughter did not bare the slightest family resemblance.
His suspicions grew to paranoia which fuelled his desire to learn the truth and this led to the discovery of an exodus ten months previously. Reynata had defied his rules and had escaped for an entire evening.
His fury knew no bounds. His daughter was not his and as a result, he was determined to make them pay. If it were not for his son, he would have had both their heads removed instantly.
Instead Arun tortured Reynata for a further three years until Samuel was five and able to fend for himself.
He grinned sadistically, recalling her screams as they cut her fingers, burnt her face, stabbed her with knives and repeatedly raped her ... not once but many times over the years until he decided to tether her and that abomination of a girl outside the compound for the animals to devour.
He had, had enough of her and wanted his son to himself. The boy was still at an age that would allow easy manipulation without him being too young to understand directives, so with that in mind, he proceeded to raise Samuel in the compound under the influence of the Mayan society. The ancient Mayans were strong and fierce and these were the qualities he wanted to impart onto his son. He did not tolerate weakness in any form and worked Samuel relentlessly in the arts of military warfare, archery and karate until he had developed into an obedient, well-rounded killing machine without compassion.
He was the perfect son and heir who would continue his legacy for many years to come, ensuring Arun's wealth until the end of his life and beyond.
Arun took a moment to envisage his tomb and elaborate offerings given to a supreme being. His coffin would be solid gold, his treasures would surround him and numerous sacrifices would be placed on the ground near his feet showing reverence for all eternity.
He shivered in delight until the phone rang.
It was Samuel.
'We are progressing well, but there have been a couple of incidents,' informed Samuel, the unease evident in his voice.
Arun wiped his brow with irritation. 'Well ... I'm waiting,' he growled. He hated disruptions to his schedule.
Samuel continued with hesitation. 'We had just made a breakthrough when there was an explosion in the shaft. It created a large amount of debris and caused some of the ground to give way.'
'So, what the hell does that mean?!' yelled Arun as he felt his face boil with anger.
'It will delay our progress by a day at least.'
'A day. We can't afford a day. If it takes that long, I will use you as an example of failure in front of our people!' bellowed Arun as he attempted to calm himself without success. 'So, you'd better tell me what the other incident is and be thankful that you are too far away to receive a whipping for the disappointment you've caused me.'
The phone fell silent momentarily as Samuel contemplated his next distressing revelation. 'One of our jeeps was stolen, our chase vehicle captured and the men murdered.'
Arun did not reply, choosing to disconnect the call and seek solace with the maid who had just entered the room. When Arun had finished taking out his anger on her, she required treatment for tears between her legs and bruises across her breasts. He passed her a thousand dollar bill to buy her silence, noting with satisfaction that she had shame written all over her face.
Arun was amused. He received fulfilment in knowing that he could buy whatever he wanted, even a woman's pride given so that she could feed her children.
It was still early morning, so Arun hurried to have a shower in his marble based, Italian styled bathroom, admiring his collection of elaborate furniture and art on the way. Unlike the coldness of the compound where he housed his drug operation, his home was warm and elaborate. It was the perfect example of his status in the society, exhibiting the best money could buy.
Inserted into the face of a cliff, the home was not visible from ground level and could only be accessed by boat. All staff were required to drive to a large fortified shed surrounded by a host of salt-resistant shrubs and trees. From there they caught the lift down to sea level and took a small boat to the private cove situated at the front of the home where they passed through a scanning machine before being allowed in. The entire project, designed to give Arun the highest level of security and privacy, took three years and 70 000 000 dollars to complete, although this did not include the cost and time to create the masterful natural rock and glass fascia that concealed the home amongst the rest of the cliff like a chameleon. Even Arun had trouble finding it on occasion and often relied on the GPS aboard his Baja series 405 cruiser.
Designed to handle all waters with precision, control and speed, it was also able to accommodate nine guests and sleep four. It was the ideal boat to entertain on and the pride of his fleet with the exception of his 30Y2K Superboat designed for speed in the open water no matter what the weather or conditions. As a child, Arun had made small wooden boats to play with to the scorn of his father who considered play a waste of time. If only his dead father could see him now. What pleasure he would gain from shoving his wealth in his father's face.
Unlike other families, Arun's parents succumbed to their poverty, selling him at the age of ten as a sex slave. He quickly escaped, physically unharmed but scarred with the trauma of being worth little more than a commodity. His hatred for his parents, although long dead from malnutrition, was the driving force behind everything he did in his life.
Quickly towelling himself off with his fluffy white Egyptian towels, Arun moved to his den and hurriedly consumed his breakfast of free range poached eggs and toast.
He was in a hurry.
Whilst in the shower, he had decided to fly to Tikal to chastise Samuel for failing to ensure things ran smoothly and to determine the status of the dig. He also wished to discover the reason behind the elaborate treasure hunt the archaeologists had embarked on and to wrap up proceedings at Tikal as quickly as possible. Without Santiano to act as a mediator between the government and the Tikal National Park, he feared that he would attract unwanted media attention.
Dale stared at the map in frustration. He had twisted it, turned it and stared at it but was no closer to uncovering its secrets or why Ferrero had chosen to give him this particular one in the first place. Common sense would tell him that Ferrero was having the last laugh, but Dale didn't think so. He had seen the fear in his eyes and the piss that ran down his legs. Ferrero was a coward and was not smart enough to try and outwit him. The answer had to be here ... but where?
Neither lateral thinking nor the addition of a magnifying glass was of any assistance to him, and Dale was on the verge of ripping it up when light filtered through the window opposite him. The rays shone through the thin paper, highlighting a barely visible black line traced on the opposite side of the map.
He had found it.
In conjunction with the road map and markers, the black line worked like a dot to dot puzzle and Dale could easily see the outline of a lizard. It's tail corresponded with Santiano's home and the tongue with a small inlet on the Texan coastline.
Dale swore loudly, 'Shit!' This was of no benefit to him. He was convinced that Arun's business was based at Campeche, but the map told him otherwise. When he had initially discovered the children, he had quickly put two and two together. Children, particularly orphans, would not be missed and would provide the perfect solution to manufacturing a worldwide source of cocaine. They did not require wages, would be faithful and not likely to escape. The only problem was the trail on the map ended at Galveston, which did not fit with his theory.
Dale stomped up and down a little like a child until his eyes fell on the large port that was home to many boats from ocean-going liners to small pleasure craft.
It suddenly clicked. That was it. That was how Arun was sneaking these children undetected into Campeche.
He longed to get his hands on this despicable man.
Now what? His trail had ended and he fully expected Arun to have informed the boat crew that the children were not arriving. Although if it was a purpose-built boat, as he suspected, it would have no reason to leave and may remain in dock until the next shipment. He had to find out.
Galveston was over 200 miles away and Dale had to get there quickly. He had no option but to ditch Peter's beloved Kawasaki at the airport and catch a plane. Although he had many employees capable of picking him up in a helicopter, Dale feared that the suspected spread of corruption had infiltrated his own office and could cause a breach of his initial directives. The long standing instructions had come directly from the White House many years ago and this was the first real opportunity they had to actually make a breakthrough. Dale could not afford to mess it up.
He decided that the most inconspicuous way to travel was by public transport, so he booked a seat on the first available flight from Austin-Bergstrom International Airport to Scholes Airport in Galveston. It was due to depart in eighty minutes, leaving him enough time to buy an extra large cup of coffee and properly secure Peter's beloved bike which, to his immense relief, had survived unscratched. Peter would not forgive him otherwise.
He boarded the plane with a couple of minutes to spare and settled easily on the short flight. To be honest, he was looking forward to being fussed over and he was pleased to discover that this airline had a host of good-looking attendants to occupy his time. One particular lady caught his eye, bringing about the familiar twinge of desire and anger at his beliefs. It had been a long time since he had experienced the delights of a woman, partially due to his own inability to share himself, but mostly because he was opposed to one-night stands. He had strong personal principals, which he tried to adhere to, but noted that they were often to his detriment.
His gaze settled wistfully on a tall, dark-haired lady, instantly recognising her resemblance to Reynata. Despite her scars and personal demons, he found himself developing a love for Reynata that was not quenched by his regular visits. She had a strength about her that he greatly admired and his long suspected suspicion that she was the mother of Gillian only made him feel all the more connected to her. He worried about her although he was comfortable in the knowledge that Peter would take good care of her.
A sharp dip to the left jerked Dale out of his reverie as the short flight came to an end. He sighed as he climbed reluctantly from his seat, reflecting on his brief time of relaxation that was way too short. He decided that he was exhausted.
The airport was familiar to Dale, so he quickly made his way to the taxi rank and flagged down a passing vehicle. The driver was a nervous young man with pimples and greasy hair who spoke a little too much for his liking.
'My name is Sean. Welcome aboard my limo,' he joked as he pushed two empty cans of coke from the seat to make way for Dale.
'Where can I take you to today? Your office, hotel, meeting?' asked Sean, mistaking Dale for a businessman.
'The marina please,' replied Dale as he grinned at the young man. Despite his cool demeanour and friendly manner, it was not hard to determine that this was Sean's first job. There were small beads of perspiration around his forehead and his hands shook as he put the car in gear. He smile was confident but his jaw and facial muscles tensed with fear.
'Why did you stop your studies?' asked Dale.
Sean's eyes flashed with surprise at the unexpected question. He answered with hesitation. 'Um ... my family could no longer afford to fund my education, so I left school to pay for my living and to help support them.' His face filled with bravery and determination belied only by his slouched posture and rolled shoulders. He spun the wheel and headed directly towards the masts visible in the distance. His driving was good.
'So, what would you have wanted to do if money was not an object,' asked Dale with interest. He liked this young man. The honesty he portrayed and the determination to assist his family to his own detriment was admirable. It was a characteristic most people could benefit from.
'Well, as a boy, I had a fascination with planes. I suppose this is a common form of play for a child, but it was more than that for me; it was obsession,' grinned Sean as he deftly avoided a couple of stray dogs and entered the gates into the port before pulling over.
Dale glanced down at the young man's holey shoes and did something he had never done before. He had no idea what came over him, particularly since he had only known Sean for such a short time. He feared he would live to regret his brash decision.
My name is Major General Dale Bright of the United States Military.
Sean bowed his head in respect.
'Here's my card. I am a little busy over the next couple of days, but I have a staff job available in the office. It is not much to start with, but we will also give you the opportunity to study in the field of your choice, and obviously we have aircraft.'
Sean did not move. He was stunned and Dale observed moisture in his eyes.
'You will have to move to the base, but we have free accommodation and you can still send funds to your parents.'
'Thank you,' Sean whispered in disbelief as Dale chuckled and stepped from the taxi.
'I will see you at the office in three days.'
Dale felt good. He had offered a young man a chance to fulfill his dreams and knew he would not be disappointed. He was obviously dedicated, keen and eager and would prove to be a loyal employee. By the time he reached the forefront of the marina, the taxi had not moved. He knew he would see Sean bright and early in three days time.
Dale viewed the yacht club with interest. It was large, noisy and brimming with activity. The boats numbered into the hundreds and ranged from small sailboats to multimillion dollar luxury cruisers.
Preparations were underway for the unloading for those arriving and the departure of many others. Dale looked about in awe, admitting that he had no idea which area to head towards or even what he was looking for. He mentally envisaged Arun's activities and requirements and determined the needs of his operations. If his conclusions proved correct then Arun was shipping the children in small groups to Campeche some 800 miles from here. He would need a cruiser that had the capacity to carry at least twelve passengers with a top speed of fifty knots. Even then, it would take at least thirteen hours to reach Campeche, but with all of the traffic, moving about the Gulf of Mexico and Bay of Campeche, a small passenger boat would remain largely undetected. The majority of normal cruisers were only capable of fifteen to twenty knots, so he needed something with more substance and speed, but what? The only boats capable of that pace were large modified navy boats or speedboats, none of which would fit the incognito requirements.
He stopped an older gentleman and asked for directions.
'You'll need to take this path down to your left and continue on past the restaurants and smaller sailboats. The larger yachts are the next berth over.'
Dale thanked the distinguished-looking man and readily followed his directions before pausing mid step. Years of training and a sixth sense set off an alarm in his head. There was a shadow behind him that did not fit into the landscape! It moved when he moved, ducked when he bent over and stepped sideways as he passed through the gate.
With an air of casualness and cautious movement, Dale wandered towards a large gleaming white boat with numerous glass panels. He knelt down, using the pretence of tying his shoelace, to view the reflection of the scene behind him. Initially there was nothing of note and Dale had to dally a little longer than he would have liked, but just as he had begun to move, a figure darted from behind the fence to an adjacent flagpole.
It was a definitely a man and he was quick. If Dale had blinked, he would have missed him. There was also an unmistakable action to his movement that was instantly recognisable as ex-military or the like.
He was being followed.
Dale quickened his pace as much as he dared. He instinctively knew that the detective was just behind him and it did not take much intelligence to realise that it was one of Arun's men.
Dale was worried but pushed the details of his pursuer out of his mind to concentrate on his search target. He was looking for a boat capable of high speed that was not a typical cruiser or sailing boat. It would not be brightly colored or signwritten so as to attract any attention and may even be a little time worn as an added diversion. Unfortunately it was like looking for a needle in a haystack until he spotted a hull that he was familiar with. To the layman it looked the same as every other boat, but Dale recognised the altered lines instantly.
Designed in 1986, Dale had been consulted on the boat design which was ultimately destined for the Israeli navy. With a low-profile aluminium hull and false hull bilge to store the diesel fuel, the Shaldag Mk-11 was capable of his estimated top speed of fifty knots. The excellent crew quarters could easily hold ten to fifteen children and the manoeuvrability assisted in escaping any unwanted attention. It was the perfect choice although the price tag of four and a half million dollars did surprise him. Arun Keane clearly had cash to burn with money not an object when it came to protecting his empire. He was evidently wealthy beyond belief, leaving Dale to wonder just how many people were on his payroll.
Dale moved with caution towards the boat, noting that it appeared to be deserted. This would provide him with the perfect opportunity to explore, but just as he stepped onto the gangway, the boat blew up in front of his eyes. He was violently and forcefully swept off his feet and slammed face first onto the concrete path twenty feet away. The noise was deafening and the heat from the flames swept over him with the ferociousness of a lion attacking its prey. The hair on his head and hands totally evaporated and the rubber soles of his shoes softened to a pliable material that was sticky to touch. His woollen slacks and jacket withstood the temperature but were torn to pieces, leaving cuts and bruises all over his extremities.
Dale felt his body to ensure it was in one piece before concluding that he had to move. It would be an additional disaster if he was discovered in the vicinity of the debacle, but the falling debris made his escape difficult.
Dale stifled a scream of agony as he tried to stand, driven onwards only by the desire to relocate to safety before the emergency services arrived at the scene. He could already hear the sirens in the distance, but his body did not respond to the commands of his brain and he was becoming desperate when a pair of strong hands reached for him and dragged him to the nearby grassy mound. Dale sank into the lush grass, savouring the softness as if it was his own bed at home, but he was still unable to see. The blinding flash had created spots of light which temporarily impeded his sight. He would have to wait a couple of minutes for it to clear.
His brain raced at a hundred miles an hour as he tried to determine what had happened, but it was evident that someone clearly wanted to keep their secrets hidden, and it was worth blowing up a multimillion dollar boat to hide. If only he had caught a glimpse of the interior or discovered a clue!
With his vision gaining clarity, Dale eventually opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a grim-looking Sean.
'It was your lucky day. One foot closer and you would have resembled that boat.'
Dale turned and looked at the scene behind him. Nothing but charred and decimated debris lay floating in the spot that was once occupied by The Shaldag. The boats situated next to The Shaldag, a large catamaran and a tri-level cruiser, looked as if they had been in a war. Their gleaming hulls were blackened beyond recognition and plagued with holes and the decks were littered a good foot high with charred debris. Both were tilting dangerously on the side that had previously faced the doomed boat.
What a waste!
'Thank you, Sean. I am grateful that you hung around,' said Dale as he noted that the young man had pulled him behind a supply shed that concealed him from the arriving firefighters.
'I was so blown away by your offer that I simply could not leave. It was then that I noticed a man following you.'
Dale sat bolt upright. 'Your saw him?'
'Sure did, but that can wait,' said Sean as he passed Dale a damp cloth and a change of clothes. 'Can you stand?'
'Yes,' stuttered Dale in appreciation as he viewed the first aid kit and jogging outfit Sean had given him. He also noted that Sean had removed his shoes and started to clean him up. He admitted that it was a rather strange turn of events. One minute he was the knight in shining armour and now Sean had returned the favour.
Bedecked in oversized Nike track pants, shirt, hat and runners, Dale felt both sore and stupid. He had never worn anything other than tailored clothing in his life and here he was looking like a wannabe teenager. Still, he was grateful beyond words.
Thankfully, in the few minutes he had spent recovering, a large crowd had flocked to the scene, providing them with complete anonymity, and they were able to escape unnoticed.
Once clear of potential hazards Dale's self-control failed and he almost collapsed in pain. His body throbbed and pounded in places he didn't know existed and his headache rivalled anything he had ever experienced before.
He needed painkillers and lots of them.
'So, what are you involved in?' asked Sean as they neared his car.
'Nothing,'moaned Dale as he sank to the ground near the front wheel of the taxi.
'Come on. I may be a pimply teenager, but I'm not stupid. You were being followed and it can't have been a coincidence that the boat blew up right when you were about to step foot onto the deck,' said Sean as he passed a bottle of water and four Panadeine Forte to Dale.
He swallowed the large dose quickly, not bothering to ask why this young man travelled with a complete emergency kit, clothing and painkillers.
'You're right. I'm on a mission but the destruction of the boat was a large setback that my body's not likely to recover from in a hurry,' replied Dale, feeling somewhat deflated. This was a major impediment to his plans and he was temporarily at a loss as to what to do next. Deep in thought, Dale almost missed what Sean said next.
'I've got the registration number of the car the detective arrived in.'
Sean repeated himself again after receiving no response.
'I've got the registration number of the car the detective arrived in.'
'What did you say?' replied Dale as he broke his reverie and tilted his head in Sean's direction.
'I've got the registration number of the car the detective arrived in,' grinned Sean.
'Why didn't you say so before?' chuckled Dale as he punched Sean joyfully on the arm.
Sean beamed from ear to ear as Dale rang Antony Larrami and ran the registration plate through the database. He came up trumps. The vehicle belonged to Michael Brewner, an ex Navy Seal, and was sold to him by a man by the name of Rossler Townsend with an address just outside of Campeche. Dale grinned. He was pleased on two accounts; one by the offer of a helicopter from Antony and two, the added proof that Antony was not on Arun's payroll.
Even Georgio's masterful driving skills did not ease the rough half a mile distance between the relative security of the ancient Mayan road and the well-worn tourist route. Without stable footings, the four wheel drive bravely battled the unpredictable landscape but occasionally succumbed to an overgrown tree root and steep hill. Twice they ended up winching themselves to safety and three times they were struck by impervious tree branches. Adam instinctively ducked as a side window was shattered and the front passenger door received a sharp blow that would require more than a panel beater to repair. He also managed to be thrown forward, coming in close contact with the back of Caton's undesirable bald head.
Even after a few conversations with him and admitting that he did have a charming smile and ready wit, Adam was no closer to liking Caton. There was something about him that did not sit right. For one thing, his bald head was too polished, his eyebrows too plucked and his muscles too toned and it did not stretch the imagination to see him at a gym, honing his persona in front of a mirror. Even the white veneered teeth hinted at a person trying to hide their true character.
Unfortunately Adam had no evidence of which to warn Georgio against someone he had known for years.
'We're almost there!' shouted Gillian suddenly.
'How can you tell? It's still dark,' responded Adam.
'Well, for one thing, there's a sign and we've also passed a couple of ruins,' replied Gillian as Caton chuckled in amusement.
'You could try paying attention,' Caton replied, his tone condescending with an edge of belittling humour.
Adam gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in fury. He was normally a mild-mannered person, but right at that moment, he would have loved to have punched Caton in his pearly whites. He did not appreciate being made fun of in front of Gillian.
He glanced at her, relieved to notice that she was too busy paying attention to a small animal that had crossed their path to hear a word Caton had said.
'Okay, guys. This is as far as we can go by vehicle,' advised Georgio as they pulled up in the vacant car park just outside the entrance complete with ticket box and gate.
'At least we don't have to pay,' laughed Gillian as she gestured to the five dollar entrance fee before walking into the park.
'I wonder what Kinix would say if he knew this magnificent place had been reduced to a mere tourist attraction,' muttered Adam as he looked about.
Once again, they were fortunate to discover that the storm had passed and the night stars shone brightly through the remaining wisps of cloud. This was beneficial whilst they meandered through Palenque's main plaza, but as soon as Gillian led them into the unexcavated western region, the oppressive canopy of lush forest blocked out any possible light.
They turned the torches on.
'Why are we going this way?' asked Caton, suddenly quiet as a couple of owls hooted nearby in the trees.
The whole effect was rather eerie. The filtering spread of light wove through the branches and only the rush of water from Palenque's streams and the rustle of animals could be heard. It did not take much stretch of the imagination for Adam to envisage the thousands of dead souls whose homes he now trespassed through and bring it to life in his mind. What a glorious place this would have once been. The jungle had reclaimed what was once its own and the masterpieces of construction were no more than unrecognisable crumbling ruins.
Unlike the area surrounding the main plaza, which consisted of the later buildings of the Temple of the Foliated Cross Group and the Temple of Inscriptions, built about 700 AD, the western area of Palenque consisted of much older, inferior construction. It had not survived in the same condition and now posed a hazard to those walking through without the benefit of full daylight. Thankfully Gillian knew her way around.
'You're better than a GPS,' joked Caton as he followed Gillian step for step through the thick undergrowth. Adam was third in line and Georgio took up the rear.
'I've been here before, years ago when I was involved in the Palenque mapping project. We explored the outer regions of Palenque to more accurately determine the age and history of this city. Unlike other Mayan superpowers like Tikal or Copán, Palenque is considerably smaller but more elaborate. It is also quite possibly older than we expected. The first king we have been able to establish is K'uk B'alam who resided between 431--435, but it appears that the area we are about to arrive at, the Olvidado Group, easily predates this time and consists of ten structures and four wide platforms that were ceremonial, not residential. This would have been the major centre of Palenque at the time Kinix would have visited and is consistent with his painting and scriptures.
'That's great, Gillian. I just want to get there and find the clue we're searching for,' muttered Caton, 'so, let's stop the chitter chatter and get a move on.'
The entire group fell silent for a few minutes.
Adam scowled, 'Who told you we were searching for a clue?'
Caton did not reply.
'I'm sure I've mentioned it,' responded Georgio with a barely detectible hesitation as Gillian pretended to be ignorant of the tension and gaily announced their impending arrival.
'This is the last crossing,' she advised as Adam jumped the small spring-fed stream with joyful enthusiasm, stumbling ungainly on the far bank and twisting his ankle. Caton laughed as did Georgio.
'Come on, Adam. We still have work to do. This is no time to injure yourself,' added Georgio as Gillian turned back and checked on Adam in concern.
'Are you all right?' she asked.
Adam smiled his thanks. He had just caught his foot on a loose rock, jerking his ankle outward, but any damage was minimal. He smiled as his heart flipped with joy at her concern.
Adam hurried to follow her lead up the bank and through the last 1000 feet of ruins to the distinctive stepped pyramid.
'It's a stretch to see the resemblance of this run-down disaster to the glorious painting that adorned my walls for years,' mused Adam as he shone his torch upon the large construction that had been built without the use of wheels or horses.
'Fifteen hundred years do take their toll, you know. I'd think that this building looks considerably better than you would if you'd been here for that long,' teased Gillian as a large shadow leapt unexpectedly from the shadows.
Gillian's ear piercing scream broke the silence, startling the bats and owls in the trees above. This created pandemonium as a sheet of black encroached on the group from above at the same time that the sleek, streamlined shadow pounced for Georgio. Adam did not know how to react. His first response was to run, escape from the problem, but Gillian's continuing panic forced him to react. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that Caton was scrambling up the side of the pyramid and Georgio was on his back, stabbing upwards. They were battling for their lives, waging war against a creature that was far more powerful and adept to fighting than they were.
They were failing.
The jaguars were hungry, spurred on by the excitement of the chase and the smell of fear and sweat from the victims, but they did not growl, nor did they strike with the intent to kill. It was as if they first intended to play before they attacked.
Adam did not know what to do. They all needed him, but he could not be in three places at once. He sized up the situation at hand and quickly came to the conclusion that Gillian was most at risk. She had her back up against a tree with the cat only three feet away. Its cold, malicious eyes gazed at her like a lamb to the slaughter and the lips were drawn back to reveal a horrendously sharp set of canines. The rippling muscles under the glossy black coat were taut and poised to spring like an overstretched bow and Adam knew Gillian would be ripped to shreds.
There was no bloody way that he was going to lose her now.
Adam felt fear rise into his throat. His heart pounded at a hundred miles an hour and he was overwhelmed by a dizziness that began to cloud reality and his senses. If he had the option of an immediate out, he would probably take it, but there was no such luxury available to him. The three jaguars were intent on obtaining an easy meal and once they were finished with Gillian, Georgio and Caton, they would come for him. A mental check of the items he carried with him did not prove to be fruitful and he did not possess any added benefit such as speed or strength. In short, he was sunk.
'Oh, fuck!' he swore loudly as he reacted on impulse and jumped from behind the rock and out into the open.
The jaguars reacted instantly, turning and growling in such fury that even Adam gasped. Their teeth, eyes and claws brought forth images of possessed animals portrayed in horror movies, and despite his best efforts, Adam felt as if his legs had grown roots. He was unable to move until they flew at him like unified murderous machines intent on annihilation at which time he literally panicked and ran.
Unfortunately his short-lived bravado had long vanished and Adam reverted to basic instinct. He had little time to stop and contemplate his actions, to determine what would be the most effective in deterring the animals. Nothing of any use came to mind, forcing him to rely on increased adrenaline and mother nature's most potent force -- survival instinct.
Adam wanted to live. Death here was simply not an option and he would do whatever it took to ensure he lived a full and satisfying life. For heaven's sake, he hadn't even witnessed the pleasure of a permanent relationship.
Adam sensed the jaguars were just about upon him. He could smell their nearness, the sweat on their coats and the strong scent of saliva.
He did not have long.
They were ready to leap when he ducked and threw himself onto his stomach, the unexpected action not giving them enough time to alter their chosen path.
The three animals collided into each other midair, landing heavily on Adam's back, forcing the air brutally from his lungs. Adam groaned in agony and gasped desperately whilst the unbearable weight seemed to compress his bones to a fraction of their former size. He felt sure that if he was not crushed to death in the next couple of moments, he would surely be eaten as soon as they clambered to their feet.
Unfortunately he did not have to contemplate his future actions as the ground gave way beneath him, plunging him into an unforgiving, devastating darkness with nothing to stop his freefall.
Panic overwhelmed him and his life flashed before his eyes. The way he saw it, he was falling to his death and if there was any chance of survival, it was thwarted by the jaguars that were plummeting at the same rate just above him.
Even if he did make it to the bottom in one piece, the jaguars would consume him at the first opportunity, so whichever way he looked at it, he was done for.
Adam was desperate to come up with a plan, but he was plummeting too fast and the lack of opportunity to grab any protrusion passed him by. He was left with little choice but to close his eyes and wait for the impact that would shatter him beyond recognition.
He regretted not even having time to mourn his own passing when he hit water with a resounding splash, quickly followed by three others.
Adam gasped for breath, but the water drew him under like a suction cup, pulling his body away from the giver of life -- oxygen. He began to feel disorientated and dizzy, the fear of being crushed upon the rocks or devoured by jaguars suddenly the furthest thing from his mind. All he wanted was to breathe, to draw in that sweet air, but it didn't come. He started losing the will to survive.
Adam was being pulled deeper and deeper with no respite. In the furthest recesses of his mind, he felt the presence of another being which was obviously one of the jaguars, but Adam did not care. He was beyond caring, beyond worrying what would happen to him. He was waiting for it to be over, but just as he started to drift away, he was ejected like an unwelcome visitor onto a tiny underground beach.
The breath he took was the most pleasurable sensation he had ever experienced.
Adam lay gasping like a fish for a few moments, experiencing a range of extreme emotions that were unfamiliar to him. The absolute relief that he had survived was overwhelmed by the fear of being somewhere in the bowels of the earth with no obvious way of escape. To make matters worse, he heard an unmistakable, familiar sound and quickly flicked the switch of the waterproof torch that hung around his neck. The sight of a familiar shadow dancing around the walls caused him to gasp in fear. The fluid, stalking motion and slight flicker of a slender tail left no room for imagination and Adam quickly realised he was the prey.
Damn those bloody things. At least one beast had survived and recovered much quicker than he had dreamed possible. He was exhausted and his body ached in spots he did not know existed. He also knew that he had no viable stores of energy in reserve to protect himself, so whatever he could dredge out of his diminished brain capacity had to require little to no physical effort. With an unbelievable amount of exertion and intensity, Adam clicked his brain into another gear.
Whilst his body was failing him, his mind had received an injection of adrenaline, forcing it into life. It was as if the cobwebs had been cleaned out and he had one hundred per cent clarity.
He hurriedly scanned the room, fully aware that the light of the torch was attracting the attention of the jaguar, but he deemed it necessary to understand the position he was in.
The cave was long and narrow with a beach that ran fifty feet along one side. It had a high roof, but there were no stalactites evident, nor were there any overly damp walls. It was reasonably fresh with a faint breeze as the fast-running underground stream whooshed over the series of cascades before being forced through a narrow exit. There were also a number of large rocks and a small amount of debris that had washed up on the beach, but nothing that was of any use to him.
It quickly became clear that there was no ready escape route, leaving little option but to fight. Adam had to be smarter than the cat.
He switched off the light and waited.
Common sense told him that the jaguar was far more adept to taking its prey by surprise and the rushing noise of the stream did not help his cause. He had no idea of telling when it would approach him, so he turned the torch on again.
The jaguar was standing directly in front of him, no more than three feet away.
Its teeth were bared.
Adam yelled.
The jaguar pounced.
Adam was forced onto his back as he felt a tooth sink into his arm. The pain was excruciating and he felt as if he would pass out, but his survival instinct kicked in and he battled the ferocious head in an attempt to reach the eyes.
It bit again, only this time it just missed, catching the top of his shirt. Adam took advantage and groped for tender flesh, quickly finding the eye. He plunged his fingers deep into the iris and felt the jelly burst and run down his hands. It was absolutely disgusting, but the cat howled in agony and pulled away.
It rolled its head and pawed furiously at the devastated tissue, giving Adam the advantage of the temporary distraction and allowing him to jump to his feet, locate a rock and slam it hard onto the jaguar's head. The great beast attempted to react, but it was unsteady and completely overwhelmed by pain to be of any consequence. With a complete lack of dignity, it stumbled and fell forward into the fast-running stream, disappearing amidst the white wash before resurfacing momentarily only to be dragged into oblivion.
Adam did not know how to react. One side of him was relieved, but without the threat of the jaguar to occupy his mind, the reality of his situation began to dawn on him. He was underground, presumed dead with no obvious way of escape and the way he saw it, there were only two alternatives available to him: wither and die underground which was what his parents would expect of him, or look for an escape route.
He was a new man, a survivor, and there was no way that he was going to give up now despite the fact that he knew it was unlikely that Georgio or Gillian would have time to look for him. They had a time limit to stick to and he was only one in comparison to the archaeologists and Gillian's fiancé.
Adam felt a twinge of jealousy. He knew without a doubt that he was falling for Gillian and he suffered an unusual mix of bewilderment and disgust. He took pride in his morals and strength and could not believe he had such feelings towards a woman who was already involved. He feared his reaction when the time came to save her fiancé and the joyful reunion that would undoubtedly follow. Adam suffered a moment of temporary insanity when he contemplated sabotaging the quest before his conscience gave him a swift kick in the butt.
He was a bloody fool, but then these were unusual circumstances.
Adam moved in an orderly manner across the outer walls, noting that they were smooth and of natural formation, but there was also the occasional puzzling inconsistency. Whereas the majority of the grain ran in a horizontal manner, there were a number of fingernail size cracks that progressed vertically up as far as Adam could see. This was unusual indeed and without the agony and bruises that were overwhelming him, he would have climbed to investigate the irregularities.
Instead Adam looked for something that would allow him to dig at the lines. He did not carry anything except for the hexagonal disk and the fact that he even contemplated using it revealed how desperate he was. He had to come up with a better plan ... but what?
Adam took a well-earned rest and sat on a rock, revelling in the slight breeze that whipped past his ears. It was refreshing and stimulated his common sense.
That was it ... the breeze. What a fool he was. He half chuckled at his stupidity. The breeze must be coming from an outside source.
With the pain coming in waves, Adam reluctantly straightened his aching joints and stood upright. He felt as if he had aged fifty years and would have given anything for a hot shower, but he had to soldier on if he did not want to die alone in the underground cave.
The first and probably only useful thing he had been able to locate lay at his feet: a thin, wedge-shaped rock. It was sharp enough to allow him to dig and strong enough not to shatter. He jammed it as hard as his arms would allow between the joins and placed the full weight of his body against the protruding portion. He pressed hard, wearing the rock imprint on his skin until he was rewarded with an almost undetectable grating sound.
Excitement coursed through his body and he was spurred on.
The rock had moved and the slight scrape in the dirt confirmed his thoughts.
He pressed harder; surprising himself with the amount of strength he had managed to muster, until the rock suddenly developed a life of its own and slid sideways on a pivot to reveal a soaring but narrow opening.
Adam stared in awe. It was dark and oppressive and in any normal circumstance, he would have turned and run, but he had changed. The turmoils of the last week or so had revealed a side of himself that he did not know existed and he had found an inner strength and integrity that surprised him.
He switched the torch on and stepped without hesitation into the enveloping darkness, pausing only to admire the ancient fissure that had been braced and propped to perfection to create a formidable work of art. .
Despite its obvious age, there was no sign of rising damp, collapse, or desecration from animals. The walls were elaborately painted and notwithstanding the extreme height, the decorations embellished the accumulation of plaster from floor to ceiling.
Adam had no idea how they managed to scale such a distance with less than three feet in width. He was awed by the colour and beauty that ranged from earthly toned hieroglyphics, bright depictions of war and a varying range of vibrant, flamboyant gods.
The darkened tunnel followed a gentle twisting path that worked its way up a gradual incline. If Adam had not been paying particular attention to the height of the walls, he would not have noticed that the distance between the dirt path and the roof had halved, bringing him unexpectedly to a steep flight of steps. The steps were made from thick planks of wood knocked into the old rock fascia and joined together by a thick twine and upright poles that acted as a hand rail.
Adam tentatively tested the first rung, assuring its security, before placing his full weight on the plank and moving up one at the time. His initial hope of a short gradient proved a disappointment as the stairs seemed to climb forever. The song Stairway to Heaven came to mind as his lack of energy and extreme tiredness almost overwhelmed him before he reached a thick, square door sporting three unusual dials that were evidently the ancient version of a combination lock.
Adam sighed. He was too tired for puzzles and collapsed momentarily against the top step to collect his thoughts. He longed to sleep but his mind did not turn off as quickly as his body and he began contemplating how to solve the puzzle.
He turned his head and gazed at the dials.
They each represented a modern-day spinning top with the point as the handle. Around the rim of the knob were ten unpainted, carved hieroglyphs that made no sense to him whatsoever. This was one for Gillian. Where was she when he needed her?
Adam considered his situation. For one thing, he had no idea what this tunnel was or even where it led. Normally he should have investigated the cave further, but the gentle breeze and eagerness to escape meant that he had not explored the remainder of the large room. He wished he had as it may have revealed some clues.
Adam studied the depictions with consideration noting with his limited knowledge that they all appeared to be varying pictures of very ugly men. Boy! Imagine what Gillian would make of his intelligent description (very ugly men). They were advanced works of symbols or gods of hierarchy and he knew she'd be laughing at him.
The thought of laughter and of an open mouth caused Adam to consider the figures more intently. He really had no idea what he was doing and he was quite possibly on the wrong track, but each dial had a figure with a side profile facing left. Perhaps that was it, but on second thoughts, it was probably too simple. Even the Mayans would not go to the effort of installing the locks and have an answer that logical. He chose instead the three figures that represented the elements of the weather (the only deities he actually recognised): the rain god (Chaak), the sun god (K'inich Ajaw) and the wind god (Ik). It was no better than a guess, but what did he have to lose.
Adam turned the knobs, hearing a distinctive click on each occasion. He waited in anticipation.
The door swung open.
Adam whooped in joy pledging, to buy a lotto ticket when he returned home.
He stepped into the darkness and shone his torch around.
The room was a remnant of a time long passed when men believed that sacrifice brought favour from the gods. It was only about twenty feet square but was elaborately adorned from floor to ceiling with the most vivid and graphic depictions of sacrifice Adam had ever seen. He cringed at the images of dying men and women having their hearts torn from their chest cavities, the slitting of throats and numerous decapitated bodies, and it was all done with pride. The artistry was exquisite and painted with a brush so fine that it would have rivalled any of the great European painters. Adam gasped at the obvious brutality of a people who were so skilled yet so barbaric.
He moved with fascination around the room, viewing the glorious stone altar, well-preserved baskets, various sacrificial deities, undamaged vases and fully intact obsidian knives, but it was the human skulls piled ten high on a bench near the far wall that provided a sense of morbid fascination. Adam couldn't help but wonder who these unfortunate souls were and what their final thoughts were before they died.
He shivered involuntarily as his focus was suddenly alerted to a noise outside the second door of the room.
He paused and listened, instantly recognising Gillian's voice.
Excitement coursed through his body and he fought the desire to rush and greet her with open arms, held back by an unusual strain in her voice.
Adam was instantly on alert and stood with his hand poised on the inner handle when a malicious forceful growl gave reason for his concern.
It was Caton and he was snarling a set of directives at Gillian. 'You seem like a smart little bitch, so it's time to prove your worth and save your friend. Let's make this simple. If you get the box for me, I will spare both of you. If you fail ...' Caton's voice drifted off and Adam heard the distinct click of a gun.
He couldn't believe it. He'd been right about this man all along and here he was, about to open the door to a murderer.
Adam thought quickly. He had two goals to achieve. The first one was to locate the box and obtain the contents before Gillian managed to break the code and let them in. The second was to make himself scarce. If Caton discovered he was still alive, he'd undoubtedly become his third intended victim, robbing him of any opportunity to save his friends.
Hurriedly recalling the picture he had seem for so many years hanging from the wall of his home, Adam tried to evoke any memory that would give him a clue as to a hiding spot, but he was unsuccessful.
He began to panic, resorting to running around in desperation, spurred on by the continual yelling at the door and the fact that it would be only a few minutes before they walked in.
He was desperate and he had to think.
Think ... he had to think ...
The room had little furniture, but the walls were highly decorative and perfectly able to conceal a hiding spot. Adam scanned the perimeter in a quick but deliberate manner, eventually finding something of interest. Close to him was a tiny self-portrait of a priest. Adam almost laughed out loud. If he was not familiar with Kinix, he would never have picked it. What a cheeky priest he was, standing so high and mighty atop a glittering gold pyramid and pointing to himself.
Adam pressed the pyramid and felt a sense of exhilaration as it moved inward then slid right ways, revealing a small hole at the back. As usual there was a glorious black obsidian box, only this time it had a keypad on the outside.
Without the benefit of any clues from the preceding box, Adam was running out of time. He could hear the knobs click and knew he would be lucky to have sixty seconds in his favour. His mind ran at a million miles an hour as he noted the totally indulgent picture Kinix had painted and he suddenly understood why he had been gesturing to himself. It was his name ... the name of Kinix. Adam was not an expert in any ancient language, including Medieval Latin, so he had to presume that it was spelt the same way as it sounded. He simply did not have the luxury to contemplate.
Adam pressed the name 'Kinix' and was instantly rewarded with a click.
Luck was still on his side.
He grabbed the inner box and replaced the outer container just as the final pin dropped in the third dial. He heard Georgio roar in anger, swearing loudly in response to an insulting comment Caton had dished out. Adam could understand the pain Georgio must be suffering at the traitorous actions of his former friend and he felt immensely sorry for him.
The door swung open just as the Kinix painting popped nicely back into position and Adam managed to seek refuge in the tunnel through which he had arrived. Thankfully the door had closed quietly, and Adam collapsed in exhaustion.
The thought that Adam had died was incomprehensible almost to the point of unendurable, made worse by the gun that Caton was holding to her head.
Gillian hated Caton, not for the fact that he may murder her at any moment but because he denied her the opportunity to search for her friends. He had dismissed her concerns, stating that it was easier to control two people instead of three and that Adam was of no significance to him. It was simply good luck that he fell.
Fury welled within her, but what could she do? She had a gun to her head and Georgio was bound tightly and positioned against an arrangement of moss covered stones. The situation was helpless, but the fear that Adam might think that she had abandoned him sickened her to the very core. She could not bear the thought of failing him and she knew that if the roles were reversed, he would move heaven and earth to save her. Unfortunately the cold metal pressed into her body left her no choice but to comply -- for the moment at least.
Still, despite her resolve, she had that sinking feeling that the quest to unravel the Kinix mystery and save their friends was on the brink of failure. She felt her concentration begin to fail.
Gillian struggled to control the nerves that gushed through her body almost to the point that her knees quivered and she began to develop a throbbing headache. She desperately needed something to allow her to regain focus and the only thing within the vicinity capable of assisting her was Georgio.
She glanced at him and saw a deep strength in his eyes. The immense betrayal he had suffered was expressed by the pucker of his mouth and frown across his brow, but his spirit had not been broken. He was a man who was not familiar with the word 'failure' and although he was physically restrained, his fortitude was not. His dark irises flashed at Gillian and she understood that he was encouraging her to be strong and continue what she had started. Giving up was not an option and she took his wisdom to her heart.
She smiled at him and mouthed the words, 'thank you'.
It was with a much greater tenacity that Gillian moved forward and took control of the situation, forcing the momentum in her favour. She slowed down in direct violation of Caton's orders, choosing to take her time studying the hieroglyphics depicted on the three knobs. In normal circumstances, she would have unlocked the clues minutes ago, but for some inexplicable reason, she felt obliged to follow her intuition and take her time. Pinpointing the cause of her concern was not possible, but whether it was caused by a sixth sense or an indistinguishable sound, she was determined to stick to her course.
Caton was becoming frustrated by her go-slow attitude and hit the back of her head with his hand, but Gillian gave him a scathing look and ignored him.
'Move that taut arse of yours or I will ensure your tender flesh is so bruised and bloodied that you will not be able to sit for months,' Caton snarled.
Gillian refused to give in to his commands, taking a moment longer than necessary to open the door before Caton shoved her roughly into the darkened room. He chuckled maliciously as she fell onto her face and cut her cheek on an exposed stone.
Extreme pain and dizziness overwhelmed her, but it was the unusual marks on the floor that grasped her attention and they took priority over her pain.
The floor was made of an extremely smooth stone that was coated with a thick layer of dust collected over many thousands of years, but instead of being undisturbed as she had expected, there were numerous footprints imbedded in the thick covering. To say she was surprised was an understatement and her mind whirled rapidly as she tried to determine the cause of the peculiarity.
She allowed her eyes to drift along the course the prints took and was able to establish the entry, exit and target point, immediately learning that this room had a false door hidden behind one of its elaborately adorned walls. The prints also ended at an obscure point no more than six feet from her position, heightening her curiosity as to the reason behind that particular location.
She moved to stand just as Caton increased the power of the torch and lit the area with a new intensity. Gillian caught a full view of the print in the dirt and she gasped in shock. The pattern was fresh and created by a distinctive thick rubber sole she knew well: Adam's beloved boots made by the iconic Australian shoemaker R M Williams.
'Oh ... my ... god,' was the only phrase she could think of to reflect her feelings. Adam was alive and she longed to exhibit her feelings by jumping for joy, but a more urgent matter demanded her instant attention. If she had seen the prints, so would Caton and that would certainly spell death for them all.
She had to cover them quickly and now. She could not delay.
Gillian picked up her aching body from the dirt and summoned every last amount of energy and determination she could find. She needed all her strength to feign the absolute excitement she needed to portray forcing her body into a buzz of activity. She jumped to her feet and ran frantically around the room like a woman possessed ensuring the floor had so many prints that distinguishing between them would be impossible.
'What are you doing, you bloody stupid woman?' hissed Caton as he grabbed her by the hair and struck her across the face with so much force that she stumbled backwards.
It was exactly what Gillian expected although the hit stung more than she had anticipated. She took it bravely and moved directly to the spot she had seen Adam's prints lead to. Caton followed closely.
Gillian gasped in surprise as she immediately noted the Kinix painting and the slight seam around the perimeter bearing minute cracks that were invisible to the untrained eye. It had been opened, and in an instant Gillian understood what had happened. Adam, the primary school teacher with no training in archaeology had uncovered the long lost hiding spot of the third Kinix clue.
She also guessed that he had removed the evidence to ensure that it did not fall into the wrong hands.
One thing remained to be done. She had to trick Caton into thinking the box was intact and somehow manage to secure both her and Georgio into this room. With intense concentration, Gillian easily opened the small safe, located the box and noticed the lid was marginally open. She quickly closed it.
'Give that to me,' Caton hissed with the glimmer of desperation and fervent desire in his eyes. He yanked the object from her and pushed her roughly aside.
'Excellent. Samuel will be pleased,' muttered Caton before turning his attention back to Gillian.
'Well, love, it looks like your use-by date has expired! We don't need you anymore. Samuel is highly experienced with these types of puzzles and will love the challenge. All that is left is to get rid of you two. My first instinct it to shoot and get it over with, but I'd prefer something more lasting, something that will allow you to consider your fate.'
Gillian prayed he would do the latter.
'Out of respect for my dear friend Georgio,' Caton's voice dripped with sarcasm, 'I will allow him to live a little longer.'
Caton pushed Georgio into the room and french-kissed Gillian before biting her lip. 'Just a passing reminder for you to remember me by.'
The look on Georgio's face was murderous.
With the door slammed shut behind them and the inner handle shot off to prevent their escape, Gillian was overtaken by an uncontrollable fit of laughter with Georgio looking at her like she was an insane lunatic.
'I fail to see what's funny about our predicament. We were foiled by a traitor, beaten to within an inch of our lives, had our final treasure stolen and on top of that, we've lost a friend. So, unless I've totally lost my mind, I can't seem to find the cause of your amusement.'
Gillian kissed the top of his head and waltzed with new found vigour to the secret exit and rapped on the plaster.
'If I didn't have the benefit of knowing you when you wore your hair in pigtails, I would have seriously questioned your wisdom. But this time your actions are a bit bizarre, so please explain.'
Gillian giggled and knocked on the panel once more until she was rewarded by the sudden tilt of the decorated panel and a smile from a familiar battered face.
'All clear?' was all Adam had time to ask before Gillian pounced on him in joy and squashed the oxygen out of his lungs. 'Gosh, Mate!' he gasped as he hugged her back, thoroughly enjoying the close contact until she pulled away, clearly abashed by her overzealous conduct.
Thankfully Georgio broke the uncomfortable moment. 'By golly, I've seen a ghost, a welcome one but a ghost nonetheless.'
Georgio embraced Adam unashamedly with relief and pride. 'It's good to see you, boy. I can't believe you're alive, but I guess that Gillian knew about this for some time.'
'I discovered Adam's distinctive boot prints as soon as I entered the room and quickly put two and two together. Thankfully Caton's malice was his undoing and he didn't even bother to check that the box was complete,' said Gillian.
Adam handed Gillian the inner container, noting the look of exhilaration and wonder on her face.
'Wow, I can't believe I am actually holding Kinix's third instalment. Unfortunately any desire I have to read it will have to wait until we can find a way out of here.
With the exit into Palenque well and truly sealed, Adam led the way back down the tunnel and eventually into the cavern that had played host to his life and death battle with the fearsome jaguar. He shivered uneasily as his eyes fell upon the stains left by the Jaguar's burst eyeball and was surprised to feel Gillian affectionately place her hand on his shoulder.
'A bad memory,' she stated in understanding as they began to search for a way out.
With the benefit of a couple of extra torches, it soon became evident that the cave was a natural formation but had been manipulated to become a man-made passage.
Gillian was the first to make a discovery.
'Hey, guys, look at these!' she called as Adam and Georgio hurried over and studied the series of stepping stones compressed into the side wall of the cave.
'Why would the Mayans go to the effort of building steps when they could walk on the sand or stones?' queried Adam.
'If this was constructed 1500 years ago, it was likely that this stream was considerably wider than it is now. The steps may have been required to pass the river,' offered Georgio as Gillian clapped her hands in enthusiasm.
'See? Spending so much time with me is starting to rub off. Good guess, Georgio, and I've no doubt that you are correct. Let's see where they lead.'
True to form, the stones led along the entire wall until they appeared to stop at a solid barricade.
'Let me,' said Gillian as she felt around and located a lever in a small alcove behind another obscure rock.
'How did you ---?' Adam's train of thought was interrupted at the sound of the sliding door.
The door revealed an ominously dark tunnel that was considerably more oppressive than the space they had just come from.
'You go first,' said Adam to Georgio, receiving a chuckle in reply.
'And I thought you'd developed some balls over the last couple of days,' he replied but conceded by stepping into the darkness with only the light of the torch to lead the way.
Unlike the passages that ran directly from the altar room, this one was considerably more eerie. The walls were lined with numerous recesses filled with the upright skeletons of children. Their vacant eyes gazed at the intruders. Adam gasped with a mix of shock and incredulity. This was not only sinister but downright creepy.
Gillian stopped for a moment and considered one of the long decayed bodies.
'This is unusual for the Mayans. As far as I am aware, they either buried their loved ones under the floor of the family home or, in the case of a sacrifice, an allocated allotment. On occasion a tomb will be discovered with a noble or a king and a family member, but never with such purpose. These bodies were positioned with the sole reason of sending a message.
'Message ... what message?' shivered Adam as he tried not to envisage the suffering these children must have endured when their lives were abruptly taken from them. It did not take a degree in forensics to see the cracked skulls and unnaturally broken arms and legs.
'The arms and legs would have been broken post mortem although the cause of death was most likely by clubbing,' said Gillian as if reading Adam's thoughts.
'Children were seen as the most pure of sacrifices, the ultimate appeasement to the gods. I do not think the positioning of the children was designed to frighten but more likely as a permanent tribute. We know that the room we came from was the altar, so it would be my guess that we will exit via a series of rooms designed to store tools and the various goods required by a priest to perform such important religious acts. My only hope is that the tunnel is still intact, but the remarkable condition of the structure would allow us to expect that the rest will be the same.'
The following few minutes proved Gillian to be correct. The cool, dry air had preserved the simple furniture and a number of religious icons and tools, but Gillian did not look pleased by her further discoveries.
'This is not right. Mayan priests loved to be decorative and flamboyant. They were very important and wealthy, so I would expect to see various elaborate paintings, vases, writing implements, obsidian and jewels, but there is nothing of the sort. The beautiful arches, large statues of their deities and intricate flooring are all here, but there is no colour. It's as if the place has been stripped but without the evidence of robbers.'
'I can see what you mean,' said Adam and they continued uphill along the paved path, eventually reaching another solid rock. This one had a similar lever as previously, but Adam paused in amusement before pulling the stone extension.
'Our dear friend has been here. Look. Another portrait of Kinix. He just can't help leaving his mark!'
Gillian pushed him aside.
'Twice in one place. That's unusual. I would have thought it was a piece of graffiti, but the picture is too meticulous and too similar to the one in the altar room to be a coincidence. He is definitely an enigma,' said Gillian as she sighed and pulled the lever which opened easily albeit with a few groans of disagreement.
They stepped into an overgrown, partially demolished ruin which was sprinkled with the first rays of morning light and the distinctive sounds of a helicopter rotor.
Georgio waved his hands madly, grinning like a Cheshire cat, when the machine sat down in a vacant plot just beyond a row of trees.
Both Gillian and Adam looked at Georgio in utter confusion.
'I may be old but I do own a mobile phone. Reception leaves a lot to be desired, but I was able to send a text message to Dale when our car was involved in that crash with Caton,' Georgio spat Caton's name out like a despised criminal.
'You deceiving old bugger,' chided Adam in good humour. 'I thought you didn't believe me.'
'Why didn't you tell us?' asked Gillian. She looked as if she had been deceived.
'Sorry, love.' Georgio wrapped his arms fondly over her shoulder. 'The reality was, that I had no way of knowing if Dale received my message and even if he did, there was no guarantee that he would find us. My coordinates of Palenque's location was rough at best. It was just a chance which luckily has paid off.'
'I thought my father was working undercover and not able to employ any assistance for us.'
'Dale is a very powerful man who simply does not like to use his position for personal gain, but they are also my men and I would have expected them to volunteer their time to assist us anyway. This could have been a mission to recover our bodies, so it's my guess that your father would have presumed the worst and came prepared.' His deduction was confirmed when two men came running frantically from the woods with stretchers in hand.
'Georgio ... you're alive!' exclaimed Tom, the young man Gillian had met a couple of days ago upon the Black Hawk.
'Yep, and I'm bloody grateful for that too. I'm too young and tough to upend and kick the bucket just yet,' replied Georgio as Tom turned his attention to Gillian.
'If you don't mind me saying, you really look like shit.'
Gillian pursed her lips but took it in the manner it was meant. 'I could do with a shower and some sleep.'
'Well, that's exactly what we're going to do. Dale has informed us that Tikal is under siege and we can't let you in there until we have secured the site. Clearly this whole situation is under wraps and we need to tread carefully. We have obtained a small hut just outside of the Tikal National Park which we can use as a base and allow you time to shower and rest.'
Gillian looked as if she had won the lotto and Adam's expression was akin to a moment of extreme pleasure.
'Sounds good to us,' Adam replied as the helicopter took off and ferried them the short distance to the shelter.
Gillian was the first to step from the machine and even managed a tired jog to the door of the wood hut that resembled more of a run-down shack than the upmarket resort style cottage they had conjured up in their minds.
'This is really crap,' said Adam with the distinct look of disappointment as he viewed the dilapidated crumbling exterior, shattered glass windowpanes and hole-ridden iron roof. 'I'd be lucky to get a cold shower in this place.'
'I'm sure you'll survive,' laughed Georgio, sporting a comfortable and somewhat smug attitude as he took it upon himself to open the door and usher them inside.
Adam was shocked and he could not help but whistle in appreciation.
The one-room shack was as ultramodern as any multimillion dollar apartment with a state-of-the-art kitchen, a comfortable lounge, two beds and a separate bathroom. False wall panels had been installed on an angle and the roof sported an artificial ceiling and drainage to create the illusion that the exterior was leaking. There was no possible way that anyone could have guessed at the hidden extravagance.
'It's often used by park attendants, guests or anyone of significance who required anonymity and protection. The hut is installed with premier security and monitoring and is usually kept reasonably secret, making it perfect for us. We were lucky to obtain it,' said Tom with pride written on his youthful face.
'I'm in the shower first!' yelled Gillian as she beat the men in a race to the tiny room. She returned after the specified five minutes to sit for a meal of pasta and coffee.
'This is heaven. I've never really been one for pasta, but right now it tastes as good as the best rump steak,' said Adam in absolute delight.
'Delicious,' agreed Georgio as his tough man image was temporarily marred by a blob of carbonara sauce on his clean shirt.
'What a slob,' laughed Gillian, although it was quite evident that her attentions were not on Georgio's misfortune but on the obsidian box that lay on the table. She was like magnet to metal that was unable to pull away.
'I vote for a nap. My brain is way too fried to unravel another Kinix puzzle,' said Adam.
Tom viewed his waterproof watch. 'We have time. There's still four hours until we receive the call from the General.'
'Excellent, Mate. Wake us up in three,' murmured Adam under the heady haze of sleep.
Dale could not help but smile at Sean's evident excitement.
'First flight's always the best,' confirmed Dale as the helicopter veered sharply to the right and ventured out over the vast expanse of the Gulf of Mexico.
It was a lovely morning and the crystal clear bay played host to numerous boats of all shapes and sizes. There were large liners steaming toward the Florida Straits, tankers moving cargo and a general clutter of pleasure and speed boats. It was a hub of activity that provided a wonderful vision as the sun rose over the horizon.
Dale massaged his neck. He had spent a very painful evening cramped into the back of Sean's car and in hindsight, a patch of grass or his much loved swag would have provided more comfort.
Sean looked at him with sympathy and understanding. 'Sorry about the car.'
'It's not your fault. This whole situation leaves a lot to be desired,' conceded Dale as Sean considered his words for a moment before replying.
'I know that there is a lot more going on than you have seen fit to tell me, but I appreciate being given the opportunity to help you. This is certainly a lot more exciting then chauffeuring around smelly, rude people all day.'
'Yes ... perhaps ... but we still have a long way to go. You were fundamental in saving me from becoming front page news, or worse, a suspected criminal. I am in your debt, but I am keen to ensure that you are not hurt. I owe you that, and a suitable explanation, but I just do not know where to begin.'
'Try me,' said Sean, his eyes brimming with curiosity.
'Not yet,' replied Dale. The time was not right and he feared the boy's reaction when he found out they were tracking a notorious drug criminal.
Sean did not argue but continued to view the commotion below as the helicopter encroached on their landing position.
They landed in a field just outside the inner fortified wall surrounding the centre of Mexican capital of Campeche. Home to 220 000 people, the town was conquered in 1540 by the Spanish Conquistadores, the very people who were touted as being responsible for the fall of the Mayans, although Dale was not so sure about that theory. Gillian had earbashed him enough about the failing of the Mayan hierarchy and loss of viable earth to grow food to shed a different light on the subject. The alternative thought was that the civilisation was already crumbling prior to the arrival of the Spaniards. They only hastened the inevitable.
'I thought we were in a hurry,' said Sean as he grabbed Dale's arm and jerked him from the helicopter and onto the grass just as a bullet whistled past Dale's right shoulder.
Dale winced and looked in shocked disbelief. He had lost a small piece of fabric and there was a minor graze. 'Shit that was close.'
'Who the hell is trying to kill us?!' yelled Sean as they dived for cover behind a small tree.
'A mean bastard by the name of Arun.'
'I thought we were looking for Rossler Townsend.'
'Rossler is only a lead; Arun is the one we are after, the leader of a massive drug ring that has infiltrated all levels of our society from the humble farmer to the White House,' responded Dale.
The level of danger had risen unexpectedly, putting his life, but more importantly, Sean's, in immediate danger. The time had come for Sean to know why they were here and to have the opportunity to get out.
'If you want to go home, now's the time! There's enough cash in my wallet to catch a flight!' yelled Dale as they sprinted down the pavement past the most fantastic arrangement of pastel coloured homes he had ever seen. In fact the whole hillside was a myriad of colour and under normal circumstances, he would have stopped to look.
Another shot pounded a nearby wall, blowing a haze of plaster into the air.
'No, I'm in for the long haul! Anyway, who will save your arse if I leave!' hollered Sean over the din of the passing traffic.
Dale shook his head in admiration. This boy had balls.
They continued their high speed sprint through a local store and out the other side, knocking a couple of stands on the way. Dale began to feel the stirrings of a stitch, which he forced to the back of his mind, and mounted the footpath before running past a set of reflective windows. It was here where he caught a fleeting glimpse of their determined, dark-haired pursuer no more than fifty feet behind.
He was aiming his firearm in their direction.
They both ducked in unison.
'Where now?!' screamed Sean as they approached the old fortified wall originally built to keep out invaders and famous pirates like Francis Drake and John Hawkins during the 1600s. Completed in about 1680 by a French engineer, the wall was roughly hexagonal in shape and encompassed the entire city. The eight corners and bulwarks had since been converted for alternative uses such as a museum, prison, city and sea gate and a botanical garden.
Dale gestured to a nearby busy hotel which he hoped would provide the ideal place to lose their pursuer.
They raced inside the tastefully renovated room, fully booked for lunch, and out towards the kitchen door. Men, women and children who had previously been sitting down for a relaxing meal suddenly found themselves with a lap full of food and drink as Dale and Sean barged through in a desperate hurry.
The rampaging gunman was on their heels with a pistol pointed in their direction.
'Duck!' screamed Dale as a bullet whizzed past their heads and lodged in a light fitting. The resultant shower of glass just missed the nearby customers.
The place was in an uproar. First from the unexpected intrusion and then from the fear of being shot! Everyone hid under the table and chairs, leaving a ready path for the gunman to follow his intended targets.
'I don't think we'd be welcome back any time soon,' said Sean.
Dale and Sean slammed the back door open, jumped down a small flight of stairs into a dirty alley and ran for their lives. They exited in an adjoining car park and Dale estimated that they had no more than thirty seconds to find the vehicle he was looking for.
As a young man he had been caught in a situation that required the hot-wiring of a car. Whilst he had not stolen the car himself, he had paid particular attention how to do it just in case the skill was ever required again. The catch was that he needed a Honda Civic, but any older car would do.
He found a Toyota in the next aisle that would be suitable, but to his disappointment, it was locked. Dale was stumped; unlocking a door was not on his resume.
'Move over, old man,' ordered Sean as he opened the car and started the engine in a mere twenty-five seconds.
Dale stood, mouth agape.
Sean grimaced but did not offer any explanation for his finely tuned skills.
'I'd be getting in if I were you,' Sean pointed over his shoulder as a black figure careened toward them.
The vehicle, whilst in bad condition, was not the sludge it appeared to be. It moved without the expected moans and groans onto the road, providing the perfect escape ... or so it seemed.
A grey sedan was not far behind.
'How's your driving skills?' asked Dale, concerned his life was in the hands of a boy barely eighteen years of age.
Sean grinned and seemed more animated than any other time. He was clearly in his element and forced the Toyota into a speed at which it seemed incapable of moving.
Dale shrank down into his seat and groped for the panic handles but was unable to locate anything of assistance. He was not enjoying himself in the slightest.
With finely tuned skills, Sean fed the car between the oncoming traffic and a number of parked cars. The pursuer did not fare so well and collided with a street sign and the open door of a Jeep allowing Sean to gain some well-earned ground.
Dale began to relax. This kid was good. Better than he would have been.
Sean accelerated along an open road, careened through a roundabout and spun into the lane between a petrol station and a car wash. The road led through an industrial park and out into a large, open car space allowing Sean to pull in between two large parked garbage trucks. This effectively concealed the vehicle from passing traffic. The small Toyota looked like the meat in a sandwich, but it served its purpose and the pursuer tore straight past them.
'Bloody hell. Where did you learn to drive like that?' asked Dale in shock.
'My parents brought me up well, respecting the law and all, but on occasion we were so desperate for money that something needed to be done. I stole a couple of cars to get us by. My parents didn't know. They thought I was working, but I could not earn in a year what one car gave me.'
Sean did not look Dale in the eye.
Normally Dale would have a criminal arrested without remorse, but Sean's illegal skills had saved his life. He had no right to judge this boy for his past actions, particularly not now.
'It's okay. We've all done things we're not proud of.' Dale had a few he cared not to remember. 'But we have to move. Arun knows we're here and will do his best to hide any evidence of his dealings.'
'Drugs ... so, this is about drugs? I suppose it makes sense. Why else would we be running for our lives?'
Dale could not tell if Sean was being sarcastic.
'My GPS tells us that the home of Rossler Townsend is only a block from here,' said Dale as he clambered from the car and waited momentarily for Sean.
'Let's go,' said Sean eagerly as they proceeded cautiously along the street, ensuring they retained cover in as many doorways as possible, arriving quickly at a pastel yellow two storey abode.
All looked quiet.
'I vote that we go inside and see what we can find,' said Sean as he waltzed brazenly up to the front door, exhibiting the inexperience and carefree attitude of youth.
Dale called for him to get away. He had studied the building, noting that the curtains were hastily drawn, but the tabby cat was busy eating a fresh meal from the blue bowl on the front step. A faint reflection on the side fence also revealed that a light in the upper floor was on.
He instinctively knew something was not right, but Sean had already opened the door only to find himself face to face with a fully loaded pistol. He quickly judged the situation, easily determining that the distance between himself and the gunman was too far for him to intercede. His only problem: inaction would surely spell Sean's death. He did the only thing he could do.
Dale dived between Sean and the gunman at the same time that the man fired directly at Sean's temple. Impacting with his waist, Dale was too late to stop the bullet from hitting Sean, but he did manage to force the boy in the opposite direction. The bullet missed the target, striking the soft flesh just below his shoulderblade.
Sean groaned in agony as the killer re-aimed his gun at Dale, but Dale had already rolled forwards and grabbed the assassin by his ankles. He had easily recognised the large, dark-skinned man with a formidable physique and long brown hair as the person who had been chasing them. But how had he known their destination? The only answer that made sense was that this man was Rossler Townsend and this was his home.
Dale yanked at the man's feet, bracing himself as Rossler fell backwards, hitting his head on the doorjamb at the top of the stairs. Unfortunately this did nothing to deter him. As Dale tried to swivel him around and wrestle the gun from his grasp, he elbowed Dale in his upper chest.
Dale gasped from the loss of air and the speed of his opponent's actions. He was not prepared and not nearly robust enough to beat him at his own game. He had to be smarter ... but how?
Rossler struggled to his feet, but just as he was regaining his balance, Dale hurdled himself onto his back. Rossler spun around but clung to him like a spider, collecting the porcelain bust on the pedestal in the hallway with his back. It went flying and shattered against the pale blue wall, causing plaster dust to burst into the air.
Rossler coughed, the temporary distraction giving Dale the moment he needed.
With added determination, Dale caught him off guard, grabbing him and flinging him backwards in an attempt to throw him to the ground. Unfortunately Rossler was well prepared, turning the move to his advantage and spinning a full 180 degrees before dropping onto Dale and pinning him between his overly large arms.
Rossler grinned. He had the upper hand and reached sideways to grab the gun that lay on the black and white tiled floor. Dale had no time to contemplate his actions -- doing what he always classed as devious and unmanly. He kneed Rossler in the balls.
Rossler howled in agony but still managed to grasp the gun and aim it in Dale's general direction. It was wildly off target and pierced the tiles behind him.
With opportunities slipping by, Dale tried to stand. In stark contrast, Rossler shook off his pain as if it was no more than a nuisance and slammed his fist into Dale's jaw. Dale howled in agony as the iron-like punch left him reeling and disorientated. He gathered his energy and retaliated with as much force as he could muster, punching Rossler in the stomach.
Rossler groaned but he was not deterred. He charged at Dale like a bull possessed, leaving no viable way out. Dale considered his options and noted that the only alternative was the stairs.
He ran and Rossler followed.
Dale waited until the opportune moment and spun around, allowing his movement to take Rossler by surprise. The pursuer became the pursued as Dale ducked and rammed him body full force into Rossler's legs. This forced him to tumble backwards and accidentally discharge his gun into the ornamental entry chandelier.
With seconds to spare, Dale leapt to avoid the shards of glass, but the men collided and Rossler regained control. 'Get up.' Rossler held the gun to Dale's temple. 'You're a bloody pain in the arse. Michael warned me about you and I regret not shooting you on sight. I'm only thankful that you're weaker and more ignorant of your surroundings than I expected.' Rossler's smile was smug and conceited.
Dale was cornered but not defeated, spurred on by the sight of Sean crawling up the steps to the front entrance. Logic had told him that a shoulder wound was not life threatening, but he did not know for sure. He was suddenly relieved when he recognised the look of determination in the young man's eyes.
Sean was coming to save him and all he had to do was distract Rossler for long enough to give him time. Dale had to occupy him.
'Michael ... Michael Brewner?' queried Dale.
'Yeah, the one and only. Arun's top man. He has been following you since you entered Richard Deinhart's home and took that first clue from his basement. Initially Arun was only interested in seeing what you had to offer, but when you separated from your daughter, you forced his hand. He employed Michael to trail you and his son Samuel to shadow Gillian. You were a fucking pain and Arun instructed us to kill you at the first opportunity, but your daughter proved to be a wonderful asset. Her puzzle solving skills are so extraordinary that Arun took the opportunity to let her do all the work for him. He has great plans for her when this is over.'
Dale snarled, 'Believe me, there is no way he'll get his hands on my daughter, if I have anything to do with it.'
Rossler tutted and waved his fingers. 'I would have thought that you had learnt your lesson by now. Interference only gets your friends and family killed.'
Dale was suddenly worried. 'What was he talking about?'
'For one thing, we took great joy in cutting the hands, feet and head off your friend, Antony Larrami.'
Dale gasped with disbelief as Rossler's grin widened with a malevolent joy at the sight of Dale's horror.
Dale swallowed in guilt. He should have known better. When he was first asked by the government to undertake this task, he was warned not to involve anyone else, but he had failed to take heed. He had become careless and Antony had paid for it with his life.
'Now it's your turn,' laughed Rossler as he rubbed the gun over Dale's stomach before sliding it slowly and purposefully up to his temple.
Dale shivered
'It's a pity you're so old. You would have been a formidable foe in your youth, but now you're no more than a waste of space,' and with that, Rossler cocked his gun just as Sean slammed the remainder of the porcelain bust down on Rossler's head, creating a massive concave in his skull and a spray of blood as the body collapsed in a crumpled heap.
Sean sank to the ground in exhaustion and incredulity. 'I can't believe I actually killed a man.'
'And I'm thankful you did. You saved my life for the second time in as many days. I think I owe you a promotion even before I've given you a job.'
Sean tried to smile but winced in pain as Dale assisted him to the kitchen, placed his phone on the bench and grabbed a clean cloth.
'Press this against the wound. It should stem the flow of blood until we can get you to a hospital,' said Dale, 'but for the moment, I need you to sit still. I have one more thing to do before we leave.'
Dale raced up the stairs. He needed to find something on Arun or this whole trip would have been a waste. With time at a premium, he avoided the obvious rooms like the living and sitting rooms, going with experience and heading straight for the bedroom. As a general rule, people hid things of value in the spots they perceived as being original and secure without realising just how predictable they actually were. Shoe boxes, underneath the bottom drawer of a dresser and the top of a cupboard were typical spots and true to form, Dale quickly located a taped package below a bedside table.
Tucking the small parcel under his armpit, Dale ran back to the top of the stairwell. He could hear voices from outside the front door and whilst they were not an immediate threat, the quicker they got out of the building the better. It would be a matter of time before someone discovered Rossler's body and he did not want to be here when they did.
Dale hurried back down the stairs, pausing only when he heard the same voices move on down the road, leaving him feeling slightly comforted that the coast was clear. With a renewed surge of energy, he stepped off the final landing and exited left towards the kitchen, only to find that he was face to face with a gun barrel.
To say that he panicked was almost true in more ways than one, but he quickly regained control, chastising himself for his careless actions and lack of caution. He should have known better.
During his life, Dale had revelled in being in control, yet here he was, having put both Sean and himself in harm's way for the third time in two days. Perhaps he was too old. He cringed at the thought of retirement. He was simply not ready.
Dale collected his thoughts as the two men, both smelling of alcohol and Cuban cigars proceeded to tie a cloth over his eyes. He had not heard Sean's voice for some time and by the general chatter in their native language, it was evident that they hadn't either.
Dale was relieved, but the question remained. Where was he?
The burden of responsibility fell directly on his shoulders with the boy's safety paramount. Dale dared not do anything to cause a fuss, intent on leaving the building as quickly as possible.
The gun to his head greatly assisted his decision and was a constant reminder of his mortality, so Dale did the only thing he could do: he stepped forward and pretended to lose his balance. If he remembered rightly, there was a hall table with a low shelf. He dropped the package, still firmly wedged under his arms, onto the floor and used his body to conceal his actions as he kicked it underneath the ledge.
God help him if Sean did not find it.
'Get up!' the man yelled, kicking him sharply in the ribs.
Dale almost passed out in pain, the fear of which forced him to stay conscious and focus his attention on the plan ahead. He had no option but to stay alive if he was going to be of any help, but somehow he felt that he was the one who was going to need saving.
\*\*\*
Ten minutes had passed since Sean felt safe enough to move from his hiding spot between the fridge and the cupboard. He was devastated and totally alone. What had he got himself into? His visions of a grand adventure, saving the world and becoming famous enough to buy a house for his family had evaporated into a wisp of smoke. He was terrified and he suddenly found himself wishing he was that little boy again, tucked up safely in his mother's arms.
A couple of tears rolled uninhibited down his cheeks as he moved to wipe them away, forgetting momentarily that he had a wound in his shoulder. The pain was excruciating, but he tried to fight his way through it, drawing on his father's faith in him to gain concentration. He could envisage his father's firm but kind support and encouragement, his insistence that determination and strength got you everywhere in life and weakness was a mere by-product that was not accepted.
Sean felt his body begin to relax and tension slowly disappear until he was able to regain control of his emotions. He took a deep breath and rose to his feet when the phone on the bench began to ring.
Sean jumped in shock, his heart racing out of control for the second in as many minutes, only this time he reacted promptly. The mobile belonged to Dale and it was important that he not miss it.
'Dale! Hello, Dale!' called the voice.
'Hello,' responded Sean timidly and with hesitation.
'You're not Dale. Can you put him on the phone please.'
Sean considered his options. He did not know this man and releasing any information about their mission could put the whole thing in jeopardy, but then there was the obvious. Dale had been kidnapped and they needed help urgently.
'My name is Sean. Dale has been kidnapped.'
The voice on the other end failed to respond immediately.
'How do I know that you're not lying. How do I know that you are not the kidnapper?'
'I'm not,' stuttered Sean. This was not going well and he desperately needed to convince the man he was telling the truth.
'Dale and I have just killed a man by the name of Rossler Townsend and I'm still in his home. We were on a mission to discover information on a man by the name of Arun ... I don't know his surname,' stuttered Sean uneasily.
The voice on the other end softened somewhat. 'What's your name, boy?'
'Sean,' replied Sean.
'Hmmm ... Dale told me about you. He said you're a bright boy who can be trusted. Okay, Sean. Are you on your own?'
'Yes, Sir.'
'All right. What I need you to do is to go to the front door and make sure its locked. We need to try and secure the building to give you the best possible chance of getting out alive. I want you to do it now whilst I wait on the phone.'
Sean's heart was pounding against his rib cage as he hurried to do the man's bidding. On the way back he looked down to safely navigate a patch of blood when something caught his eye. It was a small package that had been pushed under the side table. Sean was surprised as it had not been there earlier.
He picked it up and went to get the phone.
'I've done that, but I've also found something else.'
'That's good, Sean ... what is it?'
Sean opened the clear plastic bag and unfolded the single A4 page.
'It's a list of names. I reckon there's well over two hundred, and some of them I recognise. At the bottom of the page is a name in bold print that says "Tajumulco".' Sean then proceeded to read out some of the names.
'Oh, shit,' said the voice on the other end of the phone. 'It's far worse than I had expected.'
'What's worse?' asked Sean.
'The infiltration. What you have is a list of people on Arun's payroll, which puts you in immediate danger. I presume that your continuing existence means that the kidnappers did not see you?'
'Yes ... but this Arun fellow had both Dale and I followed.'
'So, it's only a matter of time before they realise you are not with him and come for you. Are you hurt, Sean?'
'Yes. I was shot in the shoulder.'
The man went quiet again for a moment.
'Okay, Sean. I'm going to send someone to come and get you. We spent some time in Campeche over the last couple of months and have gained a few trusted emissaries. What I need you to do is go out the back door and down the side alley towards the main road. A man will ride up on a motorbike and look at his wristwatch. That will be your signal to climb on behind him. Whatever you do, do not panic. Walk slowly and confidently regardless of who may be watching. Can you do that for me, Sean?'
'Yes ... yes, I can,' replied Sean.
'Good. Just remember that your life depends on you not panicking. If there are any spies around, they'll be looking for anything or anyone acting suspiciously.'
'Okay, but what if this person asks who I spoke to on the phone? I don't know your name.'
'Sorry, Sean. My name is Georgio ... Georgio Catalino. Dale's best friend.'
'Wakey, wakey,' ordered Gillian as Adam rolled over and snored loudly in defiance. 'Look, I've figured out how to unlock this last box.'
Adam opened his eyes with hesitation and peeped out with one eye at the box she held before moving his gaze up to her face. She had been crying.
Gillian noticed his expression and wiped her eyes. 'It's nothing. I'm just tired.'
Adam was not convinced. 'Come on. Spit it out. What's happened?'
Gillian burst into tears. 'Georgio has just told me that my father has been kidnapped, and to make things worse, satellite monitoring has revealed that Samuel's team is in a flurry about something. Chances are that Richard and Fred are dead.'
Gillian subconsciously rotated her platinum and yellow gold engagement ring as she attempted to direct her attention to the box in her hand.
Adam wiped his eyes and sat up. He had begun to realise that Gillian was not one for great displays of emotion. She had rarely spoken about Fred over the last few days, but Adam knew that she loved him, the realisation of which made him slightly angry. Bloody jealousy. It was a curse. He forced himself to quell his feelings before continuing.
'Your father's made of tough stuff, Gillian, and we can't be sure about Fred until we get there ...'
'That's right,' interrupted Georgio as he sat down next to them. 'Although clearly, without your father plans, things have changed. Dale's safety is of the utmost importance to this country, and the President himself has given me directives to treat his freedom as a priority.
Gillian's mouth was agape. 'What does that mean?'
Adam knew what her question meant. It was like a double-edged sword where she really wanted to know if the lives of her fiancé and friends were being abandoned for her father. How could she possibly choose between the two?
'Sorry, Gillian. I have to find your father first,' said Georgio.
'So, why can't we just send someone else into Tikal?' asked Gillian.
'We cannot afford to put more men at risk. The General's kidnapping proves that Arun already knows Dale was onto him, so it goes without saying that they will torture him until he reveals all.'
'But Dad won't tell them a thing.'
'Exactly. That's why I need to get to him before we are left with a horrendously tortured body.'
'So, we just leave them to die in Tikal!' Gillian shouted.
Georgio looked uncomfortable. 'This drug ring is far more widespread than even I had anticipated. Over 200 rich and extremely influential people are on the list and I have no idea who else is on the payroll. The truth is I do not trust anyone else to enter Tikal and take down Arun's men. We could possibly tip off the wrong men who will undoubtedly warn Arun and the people on his payroll. If that happens, they'll all go underground and we'll never be able to break the ring, putting many thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of lives at risk.'
Gillian's silence was deafening.
'Gillian and I could go by ourselves,' suggested Adam, wondering if his proposal was perhaps the most stupid thing he had ever said.
'That's silly, Adam. You'll be putting your lives in danger unnecessarily,' chastised Georgio.
'No. I agree. We simply can't just sit around and do nothing. At the very least, Adam and I can see what is going on and report back to you,' said Gillian eagerly.
Adam was already regretting his hastily made comments.
Georgio did not argue, either from knowing that arguing with Gillian would be fruitless or that he actually thought it was a good idea.
'Okay. I'll fly you as close as possible, but after that, it's up to you.'
'When do we go?' asked Gillian with renewed enthusiasm.
'One hour,' replied Georgio as he got up and left.
Adam was speechless. At the very least, he had hoped that Georgio would argue and he would get the 'good guy offering to help' votes from Gillian, but instead he was off to the war zone. He was not in the least pleased, but there was no way he was going to let her down.
'Come on, Gillian. Let's open that box. We have one hour for you to read the next portion of Kinix's journal.'
Gillian did not need any prompting to place the box in front of Adam.
'This one has a small indentation that requires the insertion of a key, but for the life of me, I can't see what would fit in that strange shape.'
Adam took a close look.'It's an oval shape with a slight point at the upper end' he mused before laughing loudly.
Gillian considered him with amusement before he replied.
'It's that silly dung beetle, the good luck charm you plucked from the last box.'
'Bloody hell, you're good. I'd forgotten about that,' replied Gillian as she pulled the glittering object from her pocket and pressed it into the hollow. It was no surprise that it fit perfectly and the lid flipped open as if it had been made yesterday.
Inside the container lay a much larger scroll than previously, a walnut size ball inscribed with numerous tiny hieroglyphs on both sides and a sentence carved into the base.
Gillian studied the small plaque. 'I presume this is the last key,' she muttered as Adam nodded in agreement before pointing to the sentence.
Gillian smiled, requiring no prompting to translate: 'My heart aches for those I do not have, but I can leave this for the ones born from my own.'
'I'd love to know more about his life,' murmured Adam as Gillian unrolled the script and began to read.
Manuscript part 3
All was quiet between Yok Chac and myself as we approached the final village before our entrance to Tikal. Word had spread of our approach and we were feeling particularly nervous about seeing the faces of those familiar to us after so many cycles of the haab. For me it was the face of my beloved King whom I longed to look upon and see the expression of joy as he viewed his new bride. After all, she was going to bring hope to our people.
Fear and excitement coursed through my body like an addictive illness as the farmers tending the crops gave up their work to line the road and cheer us by. This increased until the crowd was so dense that we were barely able to pass through and required the assistance of the army for safe passage. I felt like a king myself as Chac (rain god) also chose this momentous occasion to give us his blessing, causing an uproar of elation from the people. Their chants were akin to the birth or marriage of a royal family member. Even my usually sensible and level-headed friend, Yok Chac, was smiling like a newborn jaguar. Great celebrations abounded as the dancers, jugglers and musicians created their finest sounds until we eventually reached the steps of the great temple atop of which sat my king.
Bahlum Paw Skull did not smile, but I easily recognised the relaxed nature of his stature and the slight glint in his eyes ... he was pleased.
'Bring Lady K'in to me,' ordered the King as Lady K'in ascended the stairs, gleaming in a beautiful white robe and glossy black hair that flowed down to her waist. It would have been a beautiful sight except for the stooped figure of Lady Hand who stood just behind her king. She would be divorced and replaced by Lady K'in in a ceremony less than seven kin from now and I was saddened for our fallen queen. She had been a good queen, only failed by a body that had a broken ch'ulel.
Bahlum Paw Skull studied the face of the woman who was to become his queen and was evidently thrilled. For the first time, he broke into a wide grin and took her hand, gesturing to the people his clear intentions. A roar unlike anything I'd ever heard before broke out and we all collapsed to our knees in reverence. Lady Hand was accompanied from the temple, leaving the intended queen to bask in the glory bestowed by her new people. It was the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.
Almost ten tun-uc cycles later, Tikal celebrated the birth of a baby girl given the name of Lady Tikal in celebration of this great city. I was not surprised that Bahlum Paw Skull chose to go against tradition by giving his daughter her adult name at birth. Custom commanded that all children be named after the kin they were born under until they came of age, at which time they would receive their adult identity, but the royalty did not need to abide by this law. Bahlum had only one heir and he wanted to ensure her title was bestowed immediately.
I was twenty-two cycles of the haab at that time and enjoying the veneration our journey had bought us. Both Yok Chac and I had reached the status of priest and teacher and our wisdom was sought by many learned men from all areas of our country. My king had also enlisted my assistance in the raising and tutoring of his daughter which was the ultimate honour and recognition of my skills and status.
Lady Tikal was a beautiful child. Her hair was the colour of a jaguar coat, her large almond eyes a rare blue like the summer sky and her skin a warm chocolate. She had a laugh that caused everyone around her to smile and a sensible but warm nature. Added to this was an intelligence that was unmatched by any female rival. As a child, Lady Tikal could effectively understand the haab, the tzolk'in (our sacred calendar) and the tun-uc (our moon cycle calendar). She was also fluent in our language and the understanding of our creation. Some likened her to Ix Chel, the first woman to become a priest and rainmaker, and the King was supremely pleased with her progress although it bothered him that Lady K'in did not bear him another child, in particular a son.
When Lady Tikal was three cycles of the haab, I was called in to check the health of Bahlum Paw Skull. He advised that he had been feeling poorly of late and further bloodletting by piercing his manhood to please the gods did not receive favour. I was greatly troubled by this turn of events because not only was his skin pale, but he was also losing weight. A further ritual involving the sacrifice of a young man to the gods and a further contribution of Bahlum's sacred life-flow to allow him to join with the universe was performed. I was sure that this would be successful and for a short while, the King appeared to improve, but after two cycles of the moon, my fears increased. Once again I was called to the King's elaborately adorned chamber to find him in his bed, bedecked in a crisp white gown and large gold band around his head.
I summoned the assistance of my mentor, Kin Kawil, who agreed with my diagnosis. Our king was no longer processing his food and the yellowing of his skin proved that his internal system was shutting down. The gods were wishing Bahlum Paw Skull to return to his true home among them and I knew that it would not be long. We delivered our news to the King, who expressed neither sadness nor surprise. He merely thanked me and pressed a large red stone into my palm as appreciation of my proficiency.
I was immediately stressed and in a state of panic. During the reign of Bahlum Paw Skull, Tikal had flourished in more ways than one. Food was bountiful, the people were happy and we had considerable affiliations with our neighbouring cities. This was all at risk. Who would run our great city? Lady Tikal was too young and there was no other royal member who had the favour of the gods. My concerns were suddenly so great that I hurried home to confide in Yok Chac and seek his wisdom, but I did not like what he revealed to me.
'Yok Chac, my friend, our king is dying. Our world is about to change.'
There was no immediate reply. His fists were clenched and he looked to the ground in a manner I had seen many times before. He had something he wished to say but feared my reaction..
'My dear friend, in all the years we have been together, surely you understand that sometimes I get carried away, but in reality I'm harmless.'
Yok Chac grinned in acknowledgement but instantly reverted to an expression of seriousness.
'You know that I have many friends in this city.'
'Yes, you are well liked amongst all levels of our society. I have even seen the farmers discuss their crops with you.'
'Understanding all the aspects of our society is very important,' agreed Yok Chac before continuing, 'but I have also heard talk. Many people are saying that Kaloomte B'alam is planning on infiltrating the very soul of our world and may have already done so.' Yok Chac paused momentarily. 'It is even said that Bahlum Paw Skull's own guards have been replaced with those loyal to B'alam.'
'This cannot be so. Surely I would have noticed it.' My fear had increased beyond what I had ever felt before.
'I heard whispers this morning, so I took it upon myself to bribe the information from an old man with a jar of salt,' replied Yok Chac.
'What do we do?' I asked my friend, all the while my mind working frantically. B'alam was possessed by Zotz, the god of darkness, and I could not possibly let him control Bahlum Paw Skull or Tikal would be passed in darkness.
'You must see the King and discover his plans. You are still the most trusted priest and they have no reason to suspect that you have discovered the truth.'
'As always, you are wise, my dear Yok Chac. I will go tonight!'
I waited until the moon had risen and ventured along the quiet outer dirt paths of our city. It was hot and sticky with little relief from any passing wind, but the occasional drop of rain eased my displeasure and forced most people indoors. I approached the palace with care before ducking through an arch along a paved path that led into the hillside. The dense undergrowth hid a secret door that allowed access to the King's own chamber via a number of underground passageways. Initially built as a means of escape in the case of an emergency, the King often used it for obtaining pleasure from women. On many occasions I had caught the King in the midst of spreading his seed but had always prided myself on discretion. Today I used the secret door as a means to save our city.
I entered via a highly decorated wall that had been painted in such a way that the joins appeared to be concealed by overlapping panels. It was a masterpiece of disguise designed by Kin Kawil when he first arrived at Tikal. The door closed silently, allowing me to enter behind the King's bed and study him unseen.
I was shocked by what I saw.
His ch'ulel had deserted him and his body was already preparing itself for life with the Gods. The outer shell of skin and bone had shrunken beyond recognition and changed colour from a glorious brown to a sickly yellow. Little of his trademark long black hair remained and what was left was matted and torn. I was devastated at the undeniable signs of his impending passing and even more distraught when his sunken eyes failed to recognise me. Tears rolled unashamedly down my face at the understanding that I would be forced to face life without my King in as little as three kin.
I moved to the bedside and took his brittle hand gently in mine.
'My King, I shall look after your kingdom when you are gone. I understand that you will be watching us and I vow to do you proud,' I whispered in his ear.
I stroked his head with affection and stood to leave when I felt his hand grasp mine with an unexpected strength. He pulled me to him, bringing his mouth in line with my ear. Bahlum's voice was raspy and barely audible. It also carried a strange scent that I could not immediately place, but I put that aside as I concentrated on his faint words.
'Take some life blood ... and join it with yours.'
I audibly gasped.
The King had requested that I take some of his blood and mix it with some of my own. It was an unprecedented request that would link me eternally with him and ensure I was a part of his family in the same manner as his own children.
I did as he bid and sampled the blood with my tongue before he gestured to me, the effort of which caused him to collapse back into his jaguar skins and sweat profusely.
'I have always loved you like a son and now you are part of me,' he wheezed with the exertion of speech but was not put off by his weakness. The King continued, 'I was wrong, Kaloomte B'alam is not a good man. He commands the army, but that is not enough for him and he now wants to lead Tikal. He has also placed his men in my palace and I am convinced that he has poisoned my food, but I am helpless to stop him. My end is near, my dear Kinix, and I have only you to confide in.'
'What about Lady K'in,' I stuttered, barely able to command my voice.
'She is already influenced by Kaloomte B'alam. I may be unable to move, but I am not deaf. I hear the whispers between the guards and know that they share a bed. She is not loyal to me, Kinix, which is why I need you.' Bahlum rested a moment as I pressed some water into his mouth and waited for him to compose himself.
'Now that you are my son, you must promise to ensure that Kaloomte's blood never resides over my people. My heir is Lady Tikal and I have no doubt that Kaloomte B'alam will obtain the right to marry her when she is of age. I do not think that he will do anything to her until then, but then I fear that he will have a child with her and forever infuse his blood with the gods. I do not wish to share my next life with him,' Bahlum Paw Skull gasped and collapsed back into the soft pelt. His face had the familiar look of a man brushing with his passing and I had the sudden sensation of foreboding. It was now my task to ensure that Lady Tikal fell in love with a man other than Kaloomte B'alam. I feared this was not going to be an easy undertaking, but I was now Bahlum Paw Skull's son and had no option but to do my father's bidding.
'Grab the box under the bed,' ordered Bahlum as I scrambled to comply.
The box was a shade of wood I had never seen before and I admit to momentarily standing in awe as the glorious red shimmered in the moonlight that filtered through the window. I quickly reached for it, noting that the small size belied the weight it held. It was heavier that I had anticipated, but I lifted it with ease and placed the highly polished and skilfully carved object on the bed in front of the King.
Bahlum looked at me stupidly. 'Well, aren't you going to open it?'
I did not wish to seem unintelligent, but I could not find the opening and fervently hoped the King would take charge. To my dismay, he realised my stupidity and actually began to smile.
'The secret to this box is to see what isn't there.'
I cringed. He was talking in riddles to confuse me.
'Look closely, my boy. This box was crafted by my forefathers and the secret of it has been passed down through the royal family for as long as there are records. We use it to keep our private goods safe from prying eyes.'
I gazed at the outside panels for what seemed like an eternity until my eyes fell on a slight irregularity. It was like the faintest silvery strand of a spider web wrapped just below the edge of the upper surface. Using my sharpest fingernail, I ran it along the line, surprised to discover that the lid lifted quite easily. I removed the lid with the care deserving of a piece of craftsmanship made to a standard I had never witnessed before, only to discover that a second box lay inside. This one was unmistakably carved from obsidian, only this time there was a series of five octagonal spinning disks lined up together through the centre of the box. There was a long count figure engraved on each of the eight fascias of each disk. The first disk represented baktun, the second k'atun, the third was tun, the fourth winal, and fifth was k'in.
I looked at Bahlum Paw Skull quizzically.
'It's good, isn't it'
'Yes,' I replied 'but what is it?'
'Ahhh ...' mumbled Bahlum, his eyes lighting with enthusiasm for the first time. 'If you want to open it, you first must know the correct combination of figures or you may never break the code. In this case I have used my birth date.' Bahlum spun each disk until the figures of his birth date were aligned. A faint click was heard.
I was totally agape in awe of this amazing box and its creator. It was superbly clever and I could easily understand how hard it would be for someone to open it. The combination of figures was incalculable, making a chance opening as unlikely as a personal visit from the gods.
At the King's bidding, I removed the lid to find a bed of jaguar pelt with a number of the King's jewels laying on top. There was his jade and obsidian ring, a necklace with shells, a rare red stone and a small jade engraving of his likeness. My attention was drawn to the tiny obsidian container and lid sealed by tree sap.
'It is my life's flow,' answered Bahlum Paw Skull before I even questioned him as to the contents.
I nodded, understanding the value of keeping such a priceless substance.
'If you are unable to succeed in stopping Kaloomte B'alam from creating a child of his blood, you must infuse that child with this vial. The goodness of my life flow will override his and the child will become mine. But this is a last resort'
I lowered my eyes in acknowledgement as a rustle was heard just beyond the door.
'Go, my son. Go with my blessing and that of our gods.'
I grabbed the box and raced for the secret exit, making the escape just before the guard entered the room.
It was also the last time I saw my King as his ch'ulel chose that evening to shed itself of its ailing earthly body.
\*\*\*
The passing of a king is an event to be celebrated, but for the first time, I was unable to share in the joy. My mind was in conflict as it tried to counteract the sense of loss with the happiness I knew I should be experiencing, but somehow I felt burdened. The kin ahead was going to be challenging and I knew without a doubt that there were going to be problems.
Lady K'in had been given the role of guardian until Lady Tikal could reach the status of ahaw at six cycles of the haab. This allowed further opportunity for Kaloomte B'alam who revelled in the added power this brought.
The burgeoning army and people of our great city gradually took to following Kaloomte's lead and I soon felt the tide of the faithful move in his favour. Yok Chac as usual took the more sensible approach and entwined himself in this new society by ensuring he stayed in favour with royal family. To his credit, he dragged me along with his activities and I discovered the fruits of his endeavours allowed me continual access to Lady Tikal. It was only in my later years that I realised what a debt of gratitude I owed to my friend who forced me to keep focus of the path that I had to follow.
Yok Chac would always tell me: 'The truth lies in your heart. Use whatever means you have to follow that truth'.
The ensuing cycles of the haab passed quickly. Lady Tikal became queen, but she was merely a figurehead in favour of her mother who took the rule until she passed to the gods six haab cycles later from an undiagnosed illness. She had named Kaloomte B'alam as her co-successor, a decision that greatly angered her daughter.
Although a gentle and beautiful child, Lady Tikal was also strong of body and spirit. Her strange, blue, almond eyes shone brightly and her long black hair grew thicker with age. She was slim but curvaceous and had an affinity with children and animals. Her way was an eagle and she was as fierce and determined as the legendary birds in everything she did.
We spent much time together and it was I who would walk with her through my place of peace and reflection -- my glorious gardens. I would listen to her hopes and dreams and hold her hand when she needed someone to confide in. It was I who was there to explain what it meant to become a woman and how to cope with the release of the blood every cycle of the tun-uc and it was I who listened to her feelings about her mother and Kaloomte B'alam.
Early in life, Lady Tikal had desired love and nurturing from her mother, but it had remained largely unrequited. Her mother had fallen foul of her high status and easily passed the care of her daughter to those who served her. As a result, their relationship always carried the unfamiliar politeness reserved for neighbours or two people passing in the street. Neither really knew each other and Lady K'in made no effort to change it. If she had known her daughter better, she would have realised that she was quite capable of running this great city herself.
Angry at being overlooked, Lady Tikal did not want to attend her mother's funeral.
'This is a mistake. The people need to see you, to know that you have taken over in your mother's stead.'
'I have been queen for six cycles of the haab, yet I have never attended a ceremony, funeral or anything of concern. I have been totally unseen in favour of that man for my entire life. I see no reason, nor do I care to show her my respect.'
'Butterfly (my childhood nickname for Lady Tikal), it's not about showing respect to your mother, it's about letting the people know that you are their queen. That you count just as much as him.'
'I wouldn't even know what to do.'
'Yes, you do. I have spent my entire life grooming you for such a moment.'
'Yes, you have. You have always been there for me,' she said as she batted those large eyes at me with an innocence of a doe. I sighed inwardly. She was only twelve cycles of the haab but was already learning how to use her female attributes.
The following period until the sun rose into the centre of the sky was taken up in preparation for the great event. Food was supplied in vast quantities, dancers and entertainers were in abundance as was the amount of pulque drunk by the population. The atmosphere was of excitement and pleasure as the celebrations offered a break from the usual daily routine and time to intermingle with friends and family.
The weather was warm and sticky although the brisk breeze assisted in keeping the sea of noisy people from becoming too hot. They spread as far as the eye could see, an abundance of colour, size and age, all determined to take as much advantage of the festivities as possible. They were loud, excited and having fun, becoming silent only when Yok Chac amplified his voice by calling through the hollows inside the tower.
The fervour ceased, but a ripple of awe filtered through the crowd as Kaloomte B'alam was the first to arrive at the temple peak. The people fell to their knees in respect, quickly learning that Kaloomte chose not to perform the standard ritual of sacrifice but instead opting for the more important 'birth of a new era'.
Suspense could be felt as high upon the platform of the great tower, Kaloomte B'alam placed his manhood into his hands and inserted the needle of the stingray. His blood fell readily onto a cloth which was burnt as a symbol of his life blood spreading to the home of the gods. The crowd cheered as Lady Tikal also climbed the stairs. Despite not being of the age to marry, she too was required to perform the same ceremony but was allowed the cover of a shield to protect her childhood. Whilst her cheer was not as loud, it was at least given with a resemblance of respect. It was a start and I was satisfied that the people of our great city may learn to accept her in time.
Once the ceremony was completed, the body of Lady K'in was removed to the sacred cave of our people and buried beside Bahlum Paw Skull.
In passing I placed fresh wheat and a young jaguar pelt on the coffin of my one true king and father.
'I have not forgotten your request,' I whispered as I passed my soft words, heard only by Yok Chac who lowered his head in respect.
Two cycles of the haab had passed before my Butterfly came to me with fear in her eyes. At my urging, she had continued on her path of recognition and slowly the people came to acknowledge her. I easily recalled the time the first citizens bowed to her in respect as she passed. She was so excited that she ran to find me like a child discovering the wonder of its surroundings. Today she also ran to me but not in joy.
'What has happened?' I asked as Lady Tikal handed me a cloth she had been carrying in her hands. On it was the stain of blood.
'Did you hurt yourself?' I questioned with concern.
She shook her and pointed between her legs. I grinned in amusement but inside, my stomach felt as if it had been punched.
'You have become a woman just as I explained to you.'
'Am I to have the ceremony?'
I nodded. All children were required to show their reverence to the gods and thank them for allowing them to pass safely into adulthood. It was the end of one life and the beginning of another.'
My Butterfly looked as if she was withered and died as we both knew what this moment meant. She would soon be ready to marry and undoubtedly Kaloomte B'alam would waste no time in claiming his prize.
It was now time for me to hold true the promise I had made to my King.
\*\*\*
I had been planning this for so long that I knew each and every step backwards, but still I scoured the details for fear that I may forget something.
Yok Chac patted me on the shoulder in understanding. 'My dear friend, I understand that what you are about to do will burden you for the rest of your life, but you are bound by the blood of the king and your word.'
'If only she had shown interest in other boys, then I may have been able to use my power to insist on a marriage between her and another,' said Kinix.
'You kept her too occupied with all of your study,' laughed Yok Chac before taking on a more serious note. 'It would not have mattered anyway. She has never shown any interest.'
'But what if it fails? There are so many aspects of this scheme that can go wrong.'
'You know as well as me that it is unlikely. Anyway, I will be there with you to perform the operation.'
'I know ... but this does not feel right,' replied Kinix uneasily.
'We have been over every possible scenario and there is no other way we can get to Kaloomte before he takes her to his bed. Should we allow that to happen, it will be all over and we will have no chance of keeping our word,' said Yok Chac.
'But is deceiving him the right option?'
'We all know that Kaloomte B'alam had an illegitimate child with the daughter of a farmer. He knows that he can father children and by not allowing him to think he is the father of Lady Tikal's children will only put her life at risk.'
Kinix sat down before replying, 'But everyone will still believe they are his children.'
Yok Chac frowned at his friend. 'You of all people know that it's only what the gods see that is important. Bahlum Paw Skull will know that we have fulfilled his request and when our time comes, we will join them with honour.'
Kinix smiled for the first time that morning as Yok Chac readied his kit of surgical tools, placing them on the wooden bench against the door. He looked at me with a steady determination, his darkened eyes glimmering with an unshakeable conviction that we were doing the right thing.
True to our prediction Kaloomte B'alam announced his intention to marry my Butterfly immediately after her 'coming of age' ceremony, seven kin from today. It was tradition for royalty to marry each other, so it did not bring about any surprise from the vast population although it did cause my feelings to fall to an all-time low. I admit to holding a thin thread of hope that Kaloomte had other objectives, but as we had suspected, it was not to be.
The kin passed far too quickly for my liking and before I had time to convince myself that our actions were not for the best, the moment had arrived.
It was too late to change our minds.
Nervousness forced me to rise from bed long before the sun had chosen to grace us with her presence, but the quietness of the morning only allowed me to dwell on my fear of failure.
What if we were caught in the act? Shame would befall us and Kaloomte would sacrifice us as an example to the population. I could envisage our hearts being ripped from our chests and our heads rolling down the stairs whilst people laughed and pointed at our humiliation.
If there was another option, I would surely take it, but my heart was lighter with the knowledge that my Butterfly had been informed of our plan and agreed that it was for the best. How I loved and admired her. If I was ever asked to describe kindness, grace and beauty, I would merely mention her name. Unknowing and perhaps unwilling, brought on by the years I had spent by her side, raising her, knowing her as intimately as I knew myself, I realised that I had loved her from the moment I had delivered her from the womb of her mother.
She was a part of me like my dear friend Yok Chac ... a part of my soul ... a part of my body.
'Are you worried, my friend?' Yok Chac patted my shoulder as he passed.
'No!'
He smiled. He knew me better than that. 'It is time,' he said, his voice gentle and brimming with compassion.
I nodded and followed him out the door and down the path I had walked many times before.
The transition into adulthood was performed close to the life flow of our city and involved walking a considerable distance down into the darkness of her bowels. The many steps and coldness of the ancient rocks and earth were not noticed as we wound our way deeper and deeper until I could hear the blessed tears of Chac flowing steadily beneath us.
It was not long before the grand temple precariously situated on an island in the fast flowing river became visible. It was a beautiful sight.
Built by our ancestors, it had been carved out of solid white rock and transported piece by piece through the treacherous tunnels by the labourers until it was completed three haab cycles later. Five large, rounded pillars stood atop a series of steps on which was an ornamental altar. Above this was a square, stepped roof positioned so that the uppermost point reached the ceiling of the cave. On each of the pillars and lower square panels of the roof were many scenes depicting ceremonies that held great importance to us along with the images of our gods and the life tree.
As always I was momentarily overwhelmed by the importance of the occasion, forgetting to breathe as I took in the awe-inspiring sight.
Kin Kawil summoned me. I moved quickly to the front of the line as he pointed to the fifteen holes in the wall.
I nodded in acknowledgement.
To access the island, five fingers needed to be placed in the appropriate holes and a small lever pressed. This released a series of steps below the water which rose slowly and allowed the procession to cross without falling into the water. Unfortunately, placing your finger in the wrong hole or slipping into the water would spell instant death, so a mistake could not be made.
I used the secret code passed from priest to priest since the beginning of our time and waited for the bridge to rise.
It took only a few moments before the clicking could be heard and we were allowed to pass safely over.
The ceremony itself involved invoking the spirits of our gods and in particular Ix Chel to ensure Lady Tikal's fertility. I cringed involuntarily. The new name was not given, but Kin Kawil placed my Butterfly on the altar and spread her legs apart so he could insert a fine obsidian needle through the inner part of her genitals. A small amount of blood was collected which we burnt and prayed for the future health of our queen.
She was quickly pronounced ready to marry at which time Kaloomte immediately took her hand and advised that the wedding would be this afternoon. I was not surprised as it was well known that Kaloomte had pre-organised a celebration to a size never seen before. It was this that I was counting on.
\*\*\*
Every person had dressed in their best outfit, creating a vast sea of colour split into sections according to the status of the wearer. The wealthiest of our people wore the brightest colours of the gods and sat separate from those who were less fortunate. This spread out until the colours dulled and we reached the slaves dressed only in the tones of the dirt.
As per Kaloomte's orders, all people of this great city were allowed to feast on the many meats, fruits and vegetables that had been prepared for this occasion, although too much drink would eventually involve widespread riotous behaviour, but for once, I did not really care.
I sat fearful as my beautiful Butterfly appeared vulnerable at the top of the temple, splendid in a stunning white gown, offset by a rare feathered headpiece and large strings of jade and gold that extended from her glossy black hair down over her shoulders to her waist. She wore long gold and shell earrings and to my delight, the exquisite luminous blue stone set in a simple gold setting and chain around her neck that I had made for her many cycles ago. Purchased from a passing merchantman, I recalled being enthralled by the rare object to such an extent that I did not even quibble when he requested a rare obsidian knife and two jars of salt in return. To see it on her now was a delight, but it was her vacant expression that gave me the greatest relief. Just before the ceremony, she had approached me for something that would calm her nerves and I was pleased to note that my remedy was working!
I did not want her to be worried, considering a large portion of our success relied on her keeping a clear head.
Suddenly the crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer of approval as Kaloomte appeared beside Lady Tikal. I cringed in disgust. He was strutting about like a bird, too overconfident and sure of himself as he looked to the skies. He was revelling in his position, high above those he considered his inferior.
My stomach churned as I watched him devour my Butterfly with his greedy eyes, instantly confirming my fears that the life my Butterfly had to look forward to was anything but pleasant.
How I wished I could protect her, but the basic piercing and joining of blood followed by Kaloomte announcing her as his wife occurred before I could contemplate the union of my beloved to the one I hated.
'It's time,' said Yok Chac, interrupting my train of thought as I subconsciously squeezed the small bag firmly concealed in the palm of my hand.
'Yes,' I agreed as I moved quickly to the kitchen where the preparations for the vast feast were underway.
Initially I had worried that my intrusion into the kitchen would be questioned, but to my relief, I was both trusted and respected beyond reproach. I was not interrogated when I requested that the large quantity of powder I was placing in the cup of pulque was to ensure wellbeing and fertility of the king, nor was I questioned when I immediately requested it to be served.
Amongst the hundreds of eager hands required to serve an entire city, my little jaunt to the kitchen was quickly forgotten and I was soon able to rejoin the party without anxiety.
I caught the eyes of both Yok Chac and Lady Tikal, nodding to advise them of my success.
Within moments Kaloomte began to sway and seemed somewhat disorientated. It was as I had hoped, but it was now out of our hands.
Yok Chac and I watched and waited for Lady Tikal to keep her end of the agreement, noting that she had whispered something in his ear and that his face had lit with delight. Even in his confused state, he clearly understood her intentions and rose eagerly from his chair without advising the guests of their departure.
It was my signal to leave and I hurried to the secret palace door using all of my strength to remain calm.
I waited patiently until my Butterfly greeted me with a grimace on her face. She was frightened and I could understand.
I ushered her into the tunnel whilst Yok Chac came up behind her, surgical tools in hand.
'We ask that you wait out here. We will let you know when we have finished,' I whispered.
Lady Tikal nodded wordlessly as we closed the panel behind us and turned to our subject.
Kaloomte lay spread out on the bed, drugged and totally oblivious to his surroundings. He had been stripped naked and lay on his back with his hands crossed over his chest. His gentle breathing and roll of the eyes indicated unconsciousness and total lack of sensation.
It was as we had hoped.
'Are you ready?' he muttered his voice barely audible for fear of alerting the guards.
I nodded and quickly felt between his legs, instantly locating the tube that contained the male essence.
Yok Chac passed me the tiny but exceedingly sharp needle which I inserted unwaveringly into the back of puckered flesh.
Kaloomte did not stir, so I removed the needle and had Yok Chac pull the flesh until the perforation had stretched enough to allow me to pass a small but equally sharp knife into the incision.
It was an operation I had performed many times before on slaves who Kaloomte had wished to become infertile without their knowledge. The aim was to make a tiny hole behind the sack that was undetectable and stretch it to allow a sharper knife to pass through. Once I had cut the tube I could use the same small needle to pass a stitch through the now separated tube and allow the hole to close naturally.
It had never failed and this was no exception.
Yok Chac afforded his first grin for the day which I returned with enthusiasm.
'Do you want to clean the wound?'
'No. It will seal itself shortly,' I offered as I pressed a cloth against it until the tiny droplet of blood had dried and no evidence of our crime could be found.
Gillian looked at her watch. She had reached a separate small scroll that intertwined inside the main script. It was not written in the usual neat writing so typical of Kinix and it caught her unawares. She gazed at it thoughtfully, studying the tilt of the hand and slant of the words, noting that it was consistent with everything she had read previously.
She was confused. 'Adam, what do you make of this?'
He laughed, receiving a frown of annoyance as a reward.
'I'm not joking. This doesn't look like Kinix's writing,' she persisted.
'Yes it does. The joins, size and length are the same. It just looks scrawled, as if his hands were shaking,' replied Adam.
'Hmmm,' mused Gillian in deliberation.
Adam coughed loudly. 'Look, I'm no archaeologist or anything, but surely the fact that it is written in Medieval Latin means it was written by Kinix.'
Gillian's brow furrowed in anger. Adam had stated the glaringly obvious and she felt silly. She scowled at him, only receiving a look of satisfaction.
'You only have fifteen minutes before we need to leave, so unless you want to spend the next day or so wondering who the author was, I would suggest you get a move on.'
Gillian did not reply, knowing Adam was grinning widely at her expense.
She unrolled the smaller sheet of paper. This one had a short sentence on the top left side, prior to the body of work.
It said:
Manuscript part 4
If these following words were not such an important part of my life, I would never have written them for the shame I feel. Please do not judge me, for without this event, the wishes of my King would never have been met.
My Butterfly hung onto me with tears in her eyes. She was worried about the discovery of the wound and Kaloomte's lack of memory, but I assured her of our success. We had used a very strong mix of pulque and I reminded her of the time she had lost her memory to the same liquid.
My butterfly smiled and I held her close to me, her smell bringing about the memory of the first time I saw her naked after she lost the boyish looks of her childhood.
I easily recalled the glorious firmness of her newly developed breasts, the tender, rounded curves of her buttocks and stomach and the inviting softness between her legs. There was also a change in her scent and I had felt suddenly overwhelmed. She was my child, yet I had felt a stirring that shamed me so deeply that I had to walk away, leaving her care to a trusted attendant.
It was not a memory I had wanted to keep, yet here I was again, faced with the same problem only this time it was going to be far worse.
'I love you, Kinix. You know that, don't you?'
'Yes,' I replied, not truly sure what she meant. Did she love me as a man or as her father? I presumed it was the latter, but I did not have the luxury of time to dwell on the subject. Time was a precious commodity that we had little of and I was fully aware that the guards would check on Kaloomte as soon as the partying was over.
I could feel my arms stiffen around her until she began to squirm. 'Kinix,' she moaned uncomfortably as a hardness quickly formed in my pants. I was suddenly ashamed of myself and pulled away. This was going to be much harder then I realised.
'It's all right, Kinix.' My Butterfly looked at me with a sudden calmness and surety that took me by surprise. 'We both know that there is no other option for us. If I do not have a child, Kaloomte will become suspicious and there is no other man that we can trust with our secret. It must be you, Kinix ... my dear Kinix ... whom I love more than anything else.'
I cupped her face in my hands and she smiled at me.
She was right, even if I did feel like a common criminal.
I lowered my eyes in embarrassment, but Lady Tikal ignored me and placed her lips tenderly on mine. I needed no further encouragement.
Her skin smelt like fresh flowers and her almond-shaped eyes deep and affectionate. I drew in her scent and lost myself in the depth of her soul, quickly forgetting where I was. I had loved her for so long and the realisation of that was almost more than I could bear.
I began to lose control, fighting valiantly against my better judgement until Lady Tikal ran her hands brazenly between my legs. It was too much for me and any self-control I had evaporated as quickly as water in the sun.
Without thought I grabbed her more roughly than I had wanted, but she did not seem to care as she helped to unwrap her white gown and dropped it to the ground.
I could not breathe as I gazed at this beautiful girl who had become a god before my very eyes. The fine legs, flat stomach, beautifully rounded breasts were beyond what the finest craftsman could fashion and I knew that any attempt to paint her would only fall short. No one could do her justice.
I touched her with affection, relishing the feeling of her soft skin as I moved my hands along the fine curves, softly, feeling until she began to gasp and placed my fingers between her legs. The inviting warmth and dampness of her desire caused my knees to weaken and a hot flush unlike anything I had ever experienced spread throughout my body.
I felt a longing that had never been matched, but I resisted the urge to take her until I had lowered her softly on the ground, using her dress as a cushion. My desires had taken a second place to her comfort and wellbeing.
She smiled in encouragement as I lowered my pants and gently opened her legs using my fingers to create pleasure until she began to moan softly and reached for my manhood. My willpower collapsed like a crumbling wall as I suddenly and forcefully pushed myself into her softness.
She muffled a cry which was quickly followed by a gasp of pleasure as she began to relax and move to meet my every thrust. Pleasure overtook my very soul and I let myself go with an abandon that almost frightened me with its intensity.
She moaned in her joy and my own release came soon after, leaving me wanting for more, not only of her body but also of her mind and soul.
What was I to do? I had found the woman that I loved realising too late that I should have been the one to marry her. I could not believe my stupidity, for she had been in my care since her birth and I had failed to see the affection I had for her, losing her instead to my enemy. I knew that I would bed her many times to come, but suddenly that was not enough for me. I wanted her more often. I wanted to sit with her in our garden when the sun set of an evening and see her face next to mine when it rose in the morning.
I had been a blind man, only waking now to the reality of my actions. I had thought I was acting on the wishes of my King when really I was condemning myself to a life without my Butterfly. I knew that I would be tortured by the fleeting moments I would have with her, only to watch her return to the man to whom she belonged.
The pain will be mine.
Tears ran down my cheeks as I helped her dress and escorted her to the secret door.
I was thankful that the shadows hid my sadness.
\*
'We're leaving!' yelled Adam as he ran through the front door, stopping short when he noticed the red patches around Gillian's eyes. 'Have you been crying?'
'Nope.'
'Yeah, right!' His grin widened in realisation. 'I reckon someone in the manuscript has died.'
'Of course not! Even if they did, it would be no laughing matter,' Gillian scolded, her attempt at fury falling short when Adam patted her shoulder softly.
'Only joking!'
Sean struggled to come to terms with a strange mix of emotions. For the entirety of his life, his parents had drummed in the responsibility of family, that he was an integral part of their lives and ultimately responsible for an income, no matter what size. This was all he knew. He had strived to please them, to help as best as he could, but his monotonous days and small earnings seemed insignificant to the task he had been delegated. For the first time, he understood why men would risk their lives to save comrades at war. How the bond of these experiences created lifelong friendships. He experienced this with Dale. Dale's life and those of thousands of innocent people, relied on his success and Sean felt inspired by a sudden camaraderie and responsibility that did not allow failure. His pain was a side issue which he pushed away with ease, in favour of a new found determination to not allow this 'Arun' to win.
With willpower born from poverty and a need to better himself, Sean took the first tentative steps to the back door. His body ached and his shoulder was numb with pain, but he raised his head, straightened his back and strode out into the side lane with purpose. The view to the left revealed a row of back steps, a glut of rubbish bins, old boxes and long outgrown clothes. He was not the quickest of boys, but the years of living in the slums, battling gangs, vagrants and thieves had made him streetwise. Today though, Sean's surveillance was for his life.
A slight movement behind a nearby rubbish bin caught the corner of his eye, but a glimpse of a furry tail proved it was no threat.
Sean continued to swagger along until he reached the main road a few seconds later, but he could not locate his ride. He did, however, see a small silver car parked on the opposite side of the road and the driver pull out what appeared to be a map. Blessed with twenty-twenty vision, Sean could easily see that the map was in the shape of Australia. He almost laughed at the man's stupidity.
Sean weighed up his options. He had to buy some time, and a quick evaluation of his injuries confirmed that he would not be able to outrun any adversary. He had little alternative but to hope that the attacker did not recognise him. Common sense told him that the person in the silver car would be looking for an older man, someone who would fit the profile expected of a navy or army personnel. They would certainly not suspect a pimply, unwashed and scruffy teenager.
Sean lowered his pants so they hung just over his hips, quickly tore a few holes in the bottom of his top and ruffled his hair, although it was already greasy and disastrous. He lowered his shoulders and shuffled along, scowling with a look of dissatisfaction and anger that he hoped was indicative of the vast majority of youths. Just for the effect, he kicked a bottle out onto the road and crossed the street, dodging a couple of bikes on the way. A quick glance at the car told him it was working as the grey-haired man glowered at him in disgust.
Sean had trouble disguising his smile as he continued along the path away from the silver car, stopping only when a battered Triumph rolled up beside him. To his delight, it looked like it had just been pulled from the tip, matching his persona exactly. It could not have been organised any better if it had been planned.
The long-haired man who resembled a downtrodden gang member paused to consider the time on his equally filthy watch.
It was Sean's sign and he approached cautiously, taking note of a wink and nod of the head.
He jumped on as the unknown driver propelled them down the road, leaving the driver of the silver car to soak up the fumes and smoke from the dirty exhaust.
Sean felt like whooping for joy at his success, but his elation was short-lived when a large black Dodge Viper loomed up behind them.
The Triumph accelerated but was no match for the thumping V10 engine and was easily run down.
Sean hung on for dear life. He closed his eyes and tried not to watch as his companion unexpectedly ripped the Triumph into a severe right-hand turn and forced the old machine over a green nature strip and a number of flowerbeds before leaping across a small embankment. The Dodge Viper followed but crashed awkwardly onto the pavement, losing speed as the driver struggled to gain control. The Triumph responded admirably to the request for added speed, coughing and wheezing like a sick child but forcing past the obstruction and roaring away down the two-way street.
'Ah ha! I knew she still had it in her. Faithful to me, she is!' yelled the man in satisfaction.
Sean did not reply. He wondered if he treated his wife with more respect than he showed his bike.
The man turned as if reading his mind. 'It may be rough on the outside, but it will get you to safety.'
Sean wasn't convinced, particularly when the Viper raced up behind them.
'Hold on!' yelled his companion as he forced the bike up a steep incline until they arrived at the summit and began to descend. On the opposite side, crawling its way upwards like a caterpillar, was a slow-moving tractor followed by a large number of vehicles, many impatiently swerving as they looked for the opportunity to overtake.
On the left side, carved into the hill, was a narrow dirt track and Sean instantly realised what the man was going to do. He swallowed his fear knowing that failure of the plan would see them squashed like bugs under the vast wheels of the tractor.
He wished he could close his eyes but they were wedged open in morbid fascination as the bike powered down the road, receiving a constant battering from the black Viper as it attempted to force them down the adjacent cliff. A couple of shots whistled past his ears as the bike swung directly into the path of the oncoming tractor.
Horns blasted and brakes were deployed, but the Triumph held true and missed the tractor by less than a hair's breadth before gallantly powering up the path Sean had seen moments earlier. It left the Viper waiting for the trail of vehicles to go by.
Sean slumped in relief. They had escaped.
'It's a good thing that tractor makes it way up the hill at the same time every day. Most times I'm one of those cars cursing and swearing, but today I was sweating on it,' said the man in a strong Spanish accent as they meandered their way through a number of concealed paths, eventually arriving at a maintenance shack some fifteen minutes later.
A young attractive woman was waiting for them.
'Hello, Henre,' she laughed as she planted a kiss on his cheek.
Sean failed to understand how an old, ugly and uncouth man could get such an attractive woman. It was beyond him. Perhaps he was rich. Sean gazed at the torn, dirty clothing, matted hair and scuffed shoes in confusion. There was no way he could have money.
He turned his attention to the woman again. She had clear olive skin, a slim but sturdy frame, curly brown hair and large, sparkling hazel eyes. She was flushed with happiness, her look of affection clearly directed at the man by her side.
She reached up to touch his face and in one swift movement, grabbed his hair and yanked it forward.
Sean looked on in absolute horror, his eyes unable to comprehend that such a gentle woman would be so violent. He almost buckled over as bile rose rapidly into his throat.
'Ahh, that's better!' the man exclaimed.
Sean was convinced he was in the company of a psychopath and could not bring himself to look at what he thought would be a bloody sight.
'Henre, the boy's frightened. I don't think he knew you were wearing a mask,' said the woman.
Mask ... what mask? Sean raised his head uncertainly.
'Are you all right, young fellow?' asked a good-looking, neatly shaven man with a warm smile and equally sparkling eyes.
Sean squirmed uncomfortably. He felt like a fool, his embarrassment evident on his flushed, acne covered face.
'Sorry about that, Sean. I forgot that there was no way you could have known it was a mask,' said Henre apologetically, his smile a mix of wryness and understanding.
'Bloody good cover-up. You had me convinced.'
'Yeah, it's the highest quality, made by the people who create the costumes for high budget Hollywood flicks, and just for the record, my name is Fionella.' She held out her hand in greeting which Sean took hesitantly but gratefully. He was pleased to have someone who was nice to him.
'Sorry. Guess I'm rather jumpy at the moment. It's been a really long couple of days,' Sean replied.
'We already know. Georgio has filled us in, which is why we must move underground as quickly as possible. We need to keep you alive at least long enough to get you on board the helicopter. Standing here for any length of time will only give them the opportunity to locate our heat signatures and hasten our demise.'
'My oh my, you're in a positive mood today,' laughed Fionella as she opened the door to the shed and gestured for Sean to follow. Henre took up the rear, pushing the bike in and locking the door behind him. He quickly moved to open a concealed steel door in the middle of the floor.
Sean suddenly felt a tremor of apprehension. The path below looked dark and forbidding! It caused a wave of fear to wash over him. He was not claustrophobic or afraid of the dark, but he was worried about stepping into the unknown.
Fionella tucked his hands into hers. 'It's going to be okay, Sean. We'll take care of you.'
Sean could not detect anything other than sincerity and kindness in her voice. He trusted her and allowed himself to be led into the bunker below.
Henre waited for them to pass before locking another solid door at the base of the stairs and pulling the light switch.
Sean blinked and looked around. He had envisaged a musty, leaking dungeon full of spiders, handcuffs and other implements of torture. Even a medieval cellar would have been closer to his expectations than the stark, freshly painted luminous room that was little more than a weapons storage facility. Each wall was laden with guns, ammunition, hand grenades and other warfare Sean was not familiar with. In the middle of the room were a small table, chair and radio. To the right was a stash of bulletproof clothing, a small store of tinned food and water and to the left were a couple of stretchers, blankets and pillows.
'This is just one of many bunkers the army has positioned around the lesser populated states for our protection. They are designed for small and intermediate rated operatives like this, allowing us to be on site immediately without the need to go to the nearest base. Most have limited stocks but enough to get us by for a few days! As you can see, you certainly wouldn't want to spend more than a couple of days here anyway. There's not much to do, not even a television to watch,' advised Henre.
Sean did not know what the big deal was. His family did not own a television and they had learnt to make the best of their time by creating their own games and stories. He could occupy himself in even the most remote of situations.
He wondered how his family was coping. By now they would be frantic about his disappearance and may have notified the police, but there would be little to no resources allocated to find him. His family was poor and the police had greater priorities such as fighting crime and drugs. He would be the lowest on their list of priorities.
'Sean!' Henre called him twice before he answered.
'Sorry.'
Henre smiled in understanding before continuing.
'In little under half an hour, we will be leaving the comfort and security of this little bunker to meet the helicopter Georgio has sent for you. The only catch is that we have to cross 1500 feet to the nearest clearing.'
'So?' questioned Sean. He didn't see the problem.
'Arun will have a number of snipers waiting for you. You evidently pose a threat large enough that he wants to have you exterminated.'
'The use of the word "exterminated" makes me sound like a bug,' complained Sean.
'You are! A small nuisance in his massive scheme to control the drug runs of the world.'
'Great,' murmured Sean under his breath as Fionella threw him a bulletproof vest.
'Make sure this is concealed under your top.'
Sean did as he was ordered only to discover that the moment he sat down, he became violently ill. An all encumbering dizziness washed over him and he collapsed on the floor in extreme pain. In all of the adrenaline-pumping action and nervousness of his arrival, Sean had forgotten about his injury.
He barely felt anything as Fionella and Henre rushed to undo his dark top, which had concealed his blood loss.
'Bloody fool. He didn't say anything about this,' Henre muttered as they studied the bullet wound in his shoulder.
'I recall one young man who went for a day without treatment to a knife wound in his side,' Fionella chastised gently.
'Yes, but that was different,' said Henre.
'How so?'
'I was trying to impress you by not showing any pain,' Henre conceded with a laugh 'And look how silly I was. All that pain for nothing. I got you anyway,'
Fionella punched Henre gently on the arm as they opened a medical chest, jabbed a needle in Sean's arm and began to clean the wound.
'That hurt. What's that for?'
'Pain relief,' said Fionella as she bandaged and taped Sean's shoulder with a deftness indicated by many years of experience. He looked at her and smiled, his moment of appreciation broken when Henre interrupted.
'It's time to go. We have exactly ten minutes before the arrival of the helicopter.'
Fionella nodded and hurried into action. She fitted a bulletproof jacket to both herself and Sean and pulled on an ammunition belt and hat.
'Ouch,' whinged Sean as he climbed to his feet and hurried up the stairs to where Henre and Fionella were waiting.
They were looking at him with an uncomfortable intensity that caused him to stop in his tracks.
'There will be snipers out there. They will aim to kill and you will be their target. Do not believe for a second that the vest will save you because there are many other spots such as the neck or head that are vulnerable. It is absolutely imperative that you obey Fionella or myself and keep low to the ground'
'But ---' Sean was about to interrupt when Henre cut him off.
'My word is God. You will listen and obey or you will die.'
Sean nodded. This was worse than the telling off he'd received from his father for stealing food.
'Okay, let's go.'
Keeping a low formation and using the bushes to provide cover, Henre drew his gun, indicating to Fionella to do the same. They moved with Sean between them and forced him into an uncomfortable run, all the while ensuring that they kept their noise to a minimum. Sean was nervous and even more fearful when an unexpected shot pounded into the ground only feet from where they were moving. Henre gestured to Fionella to begin to run in an S-shaped pattern with the intent to confuse the shooters and was pleased when it seemed to work.
The subsequent shots were inaccurate enough to put most professional shooters to shame.
'Oh, shit! We're almost out of time!' exclaimed Henre as he stepped up their pace, spurred on by the distinctive whirling sound of the nearing machine.
Sean ran instinctively, his feet pounding through the dense undergrowth as the amount of shots increased dramatically.
Fionella screamed in agony and collapsed to the ground.
Henre turned to run to her, but she yelled at him in anger. 'You know the priorities! Finish the mission!'
He nodded in agreement although the look on his face was one of intense fury and frustration at being made to choose between his wife and his duty.
He turned to Fionella only to be met with a stare that ordered him to obey her.
'Don't fail me!' she yelled as another bullet hit her in the leg. She screamed in agony.
Henre grabbed Sean by the arm and did not look back.
The helicopter had landed and in the excerpt typical of a motion picture, eight fully laden army operatives jumped to the ground, their guns fully loaded. They viewed their surroundings, took control of the situation and fired selective blasts into the trees before separating into double formations. Two to the left, two to the right, two to assist Sean to the helicopter and the last couple ran directly to Fionella.
In moments, the bush fell silent as the gunfire ceased and four snipers surrendered. Sean was bundled unceremoniously onto the helicopter, accompanied a few moments later by the remainder of their party along with Henre and a seriously ill Fionella.
Three men stayed behind to attend to the snipers.
Sean did not want to know what fate awaited the traitors below although it did not take much stretch of the imagination to know that they would be executed. He glanced out of the window and wished he hadn't.
He felt faint. The increasing loss of blood from his wounded shoulder, the overwhelming fear of being shot and the terror of witnessing an execution caused him to seek relief in the oblivion of unconsciousness.
\*\*\*
In his cataleptic state, Sean sought a peaceful void that he was neither willing nor able to wake from. His body worked hard to mend the mental and physical wounds he had obtained during the last forty-eight hours and it wasn't until the smell of food penetrated his senses and tempted his empty stomach that he opened his eyes.
He heard a chuckle and gazed up at a round-faced, slightly tubby greying man with lined eyes and an unyielding stare.
'Stuff the smelling salts. This works every time,' he muttered as he handed Sean an egg and bacon sandwich with double layers of cheese, and a glass of apple juice, albeit longlife.
Sean accepted gratefully and ate the meal like a man possessed. He had no thought other than fulfilling the gnawing ache and quenching his thirst, which he achieved in record time.
'I'd love another,' he asked shamelessly.
The older man shook his head. 'You've been through a trauma. Too much food and you'll throw up.'
Sean nodded unhappily. He did feel a little queasy, his moment of self-indulgence interrupted when a slim, red-haired woman, a wiry slender man with an unwieldy mop of dark hair and his previous companions crowded around him. They were all looking at him as if he was a specimen under a microscope and he felt uneasy. He threw his hands into the air.
'So what! I'm hungry. No need to stare at me.'
'Sorry, Sean,' said the slim man with a strange accent. 'Let me introduce my friends. My name is Adam, this is Gillian and the tall man over there who thinks he's far more superior than us is Tom. The old bugger is the one you spoke to on the phone. His name's Georgio and the others are just people pretending to be our friends.'
The three men stuck their fingers up at Adam in a gesture of mock annoyance.
Adam grinned as Georgio interceded.
'I understand that you are keen to rest, but we brought you here because of the important information you have for us. We really need to determine what you know and unfortunately, we must do it now. As you may be aware, a number of our close friends are in imminent danger -- if they are not dead already -- and we are behind schedule. Your book is so imperative for our success against Arun that we decided to wait for you.'
Sean did not immediately respond. He reached into his pants and pulled out a small packet which he handed directly to Georgio.
Georgio considered the document for a moment, his expression revealing very little about his true thoughts.
'What are you going to do with it?' asked Sean.
'My boy, this is the key to disbanding Arun's drug ring, but if I release the details too soon, his cohorts will disappear and any evidence disposed of. We must catch them in the act of selling and purchasing the drugs first! However, saving our friends are our first priority,' Dale concluded before continuing. 'Our only concern is that we have no idea where Dale would be held. We were hoping that you could help.'
Sean shrugged and gazed at the ground. He had just seen a look of desperation in Gillian's eyes and he did not know what to make of it. Her wild expression of anxiety worried him.
Georgio also noted the uncomfortable exchange. 'Dale is Gillian's father.'
Sean suddenly understood. He would try his best. 'Give me a moment,' he asked as the little group nodded.
Sean thought about Dale and frowned. Dale had given him confidence, understanding and friendship and he easily recalled the conversations he had with him on the plane. He learnt more about the man in an hour than during any of the surrounding times and although he couldn't pinpoint one thing in particular, he did remember his conversation about a woman call Reynata. It had only consisted of a few sentences, but the context revealed that this woman had suffered greatly at the hands of Arun over a period of many years. If she was with him, it was possible that she would know where he lived. Surely Arun would have taken Dale to the same place.
Sean quickly revealed this information to Georgio who immediately dialled a number on his mobile phone. He spoke to a man called Peter who Sean recognised as Dale's uncle.
Adam and Gillian looked at Georgio in expectation as he hung up the phone.
'Tajumulco is the name she gave me. This is confirmed by the same name that appears on the list Sean has just provided. Reynata has agreed to fly out here and assist with the search for Dale.
'Who is this woman?' asked Gillian. The look on her face was one of confusion.
Sean caught Georgio gazing uneasily at the ground, leaving him with a feeling that there was something Georgio knew about this woman that he did not wish to reveal.
'We are expecting Peter and Reynata in approximately three hours, so we are going to use that time trying to infiltrate Samuel's little congregation down at Tikal. Departure is in five minutes. Gillian and Adam are coming with us, but you are going to the White House with Henre. Fionella will stay here as she is not well enough to travel,' said Georgio.
'Why?' Sean stuttered in fear and shock. He had never met anyone famous in his life and here he was about to meet the President of the United States.
'Arun's influence is so widespread that it will be impossible for anyone other than the President to give it credence. Anyway it was the President who authorised our involvement in the first place.
'Fuck!'exclaimed Sean. What if he embarrassed himself? He could stutter, forget his words, fall over, fart, dribble, faint or anything else that would bring permanent shame to him and his family.
'You forget one thing, Sean. It is your bravery that got us to this position. You're a hero and the President knows that. Stand tall, boy, and be proud of what you have done.' Georgio patted him on his shoulder on the way out.
'Now, hurry, Sean. The helicopter is waiting.'
Georgio smiled and saluted as he left the building.
\*\*\*
Morale within the little group was so low that Richard felt depression seep over him like an uninvited visitor. They were beginning to succumb to the ravages of dehydration and starvation, and the once buoyant conversations had dwindled to little more than an empty shell of relevance.
Richard looked at his wife and felt a tremor of fear. She had become pale and lethargic. Her usual optimistic and vibrant nature had receded to little more than a shell of its former self. He knew that she had begun contemplating death.
He also feared that they were going to perish undiscovered, clearly caught in something that had far greater repercussions than their insignificant lives. And where was Gillian? It was so unlike her to abandon her friends without an attempt at rescue. He knew she would pull out whatever stop necessary to save them, only making her absence more distressing. If she had deserted them, it would only be if she had been physically stopped. Richard shuddered involuntarily as he dared contemplate her death.
For the first time, tears had begun to well and he chastised himself for his weakness. Men did not cry, but the overwhelming sense of inadequacy made him feel like a failure. His friends would die, his wife would shrivel up before his eyes, and to make the situation worse, the sounds of heavy-duty machinery had increased to an extent that the ground vibrated and dirt had begun to fall around their bodies. At first Richard had been excited. He envisaged a rescue and the joyful looks on their faces as they escaped this tomb, but it soon became clear that they were not here for them. The digging continued incessantly around the clock and the terrible reality dawned on him.
The words 'treasure hunter, pirates, plagiarism' crossed his mind and the recollection of the glorious paintings he had seen in the lift told him why. There were undiscovered riches here and that's what they wanted.
Richard gazed into the eyes of his companions and saw dejection slowly begin to override hope.
He knew that they did not have long.
Without thinking, Gillian grabbed Adam's hand for support as they rattled and bumped their way to the Tikal site in a Jeep made for work instead of luxury. It was their plan to drive as far as possible without causing suspicion and walk the remainder of the way in a small group consisting of Georgio, Adam, Tom and two armed guards. They had contemplated calling the army which would have negated the risk to their lives, but Georgio feared this would cause Arun to retreat into hiding, causing them to lose the possibility of cracking open the drug ring and further endangering Dale's life. As a group they had determined it was better to wait until the President had deployed his own task force and sent a contingency to Tikal.
'We're here,' announced Georgio as he clambered eagerly from the car and waited for the rest of the group to join him. Gillian watched his expression, noting his obvious eagerness with interest. She knew him well enough to understand that his enthusiasm was a representation of how desperately he sought retribution. He wanted nothing more than seeing such a lecherous criminal in jail where he belonged.
'Okay, my plan is simple. We're here to observe and act only if the opportunity arises. Ideally, I would like to release Dale's men who may be able to assist us in saving our friends.'
Gillian grimaced which Adam took as a look of sadness at the mention of her father's name and squeezed her hand in encouragement. She held on tight, enjoying the compassion that he offered. She did not need to explain to him that the inevitable was closing in on them. That it was only a matter of time before they found out if their friends had lived or died.
Stepping into single file, they battered their way through the ancient trees, untouched and witness to many generations of Mayans. Gillian often wondered what these trees had seen in the past and found herself contemplating the many tales they could tell. Her inattention caused her to miss the usual marker, the pyramids, so she had to rely on her knowledge to point them in the right direction. Her unfailing guidance was assisted by the distinctive sounds of the machinery and they reached the edge of the treeline unimpeded.
Using a low line of undergrowth as cover to view Arun's progression, the little group sank to their knees and watched.
'Oh, hell. Their numbers have doubled!' cursed Georgio.
Gillian squirmed. She was uneasy and noted that her friends shared the same tense posture. The increase in men at the site clearly meant that Arun was close to a discovery of importance and this did not bode well for them.
'We've no chance of even getting close to that place,' confirmed Adam as Gillian nudged him gently and was about the say something when the trees were abruptly parted.
She was yanked to her feet by her long hair. Gillian screamed in fear and pain as Adam jumped to her rescue, only to find himself surrounded by five very ugly and fearfully imposing men twice his size and bulk.
Gillian felt her hair being ripped from the scalp and a large set of arms wrapped around her waist and across her neck. An extreme mix of adrenaline, terror and agony circulated rapidly through her veins, causing confusion in her mind. She longed to fight, to kill these bastards, but there was one small problem called restraint. The possibility of escape was nil considering Georgio, Tom and their two armed companions were equally bound and contained.
Gillian could not see Adam. Her heart beat at such a rapid pace that she felt nauseous. Where was he? In her confusion she had not seen what happened, but Adam's absence allowed her to consider the possibility that he remained undiscovered.
God ... she hoped so. His freedom gave her hope.
'You look nervous,' sniggered her captor as he ran his hand slowly and deliberately across her chin, down her neck and into her top. He eagerly squeezed and manipulated her left breast until Gillian gasped at the unexpected intrusion.
Georgio looked furious.
'Rail! Let her be. Samuel asked for them to be delivered to him untouched.'
The man reluctantly complied, ensuring he wrenched her arms behind her with such force that the tendons ached.
Gillian screamed. The man kissed her open mouth in retribution before yanking her in line and marching them out onto the lush, treeless ground and towards the distant marquee that Samuel had assembled for his private use.
They felt like monkeys in a zoo, glared and laughed at by the workers as their captors revelled in the glory that came with detaining intruders.sd
Gillian felt embarrassed and humiliated, none more so than when she was presented to Samuel. She had failed to outwit him and he was to have the last laugh.
Samuel chortled loudly. 'Well, now, what do we have here? I thought you'd kicked the bucket back in the jungle, but your resilience continues to surprise me. It's such a shame that I'll have to hand you over to Arun. I could've had fun with you.'
Gillian spat at him. 'You're fuckin' kidding if you think I'm going without a fight. There is no way my father will let you win.'
Samuel grinned with a maliciousness that was chilling 'I think it's too late for your father.'
Gillian's heart sank as Samuel shoved her unceremoniously to her knees and forced her into a submissive position.
She was terrified and almost beyond rationale. Her heart was suffering from severe palpitations and she was trembling. Every second that passed seemed like a lifetime until she could bear it no longer.
She looked up, fully expecting to receive the extent of his fury at her disobedience, but instead she was met by a set of deeply confused flashing eyes.
Gillian did not know how to respond. This was most unexpected. Samuel was Arun's instrument, incapable of feeling, compassion or sympathy, yet she swore that he was suffering some sort of emotional battle.
The glazed expression, unmoving face, twitching facial muscles confirmed a man who was suddenly uncertain what his next move was going to be. He was confused and out of sorts. His intention had been to hurt her, to punish her, but for some inexplicable reason, he had changed his mind and Gillian failed to understand why.
Perhaps he was human after all, but she did not think this was the reason.
Gillian moved to stand, checking his expression for any hostility but receiving none. Instead he reached out to touch her in a move that was extremely disconcerting. His face had morphed into a person opposite to the Samuel she had grown to fear, and for a brief moment, she experienced an uncomfortable sensation of déjà vu.
Her mind raced, searching and delving into the untouched depths of her psyche as she attempted to make sense of the strange sensation of familiarity that had washed over her. Her deliberation was not helped by Samuel who was studying her in a manner of intimacy unlike anything she had previous experienced. On the outset she would have been concerned, but his guise was not sexual. It was of someone in the throes of recognising a dear friend that they had not seen for years. Gillian could not comprehend how that could be. She did not know Samuel ... or did she?
The seed of doubt was sown and for the briefest of moments, her mind forced a memory to the fore. Her heart skipped a beat at the distant recollection of a boy who held her hand at night and tucked her into bed when their mother did not return of an evening.
Gillian was frightened. Her body began to shake and she felt the blood drain from her face.
She knew without a doubt that the memory was real. That it was something she had experienced as a young child but forgotten, suppressed, due to trauma.
Who was this man and how could she have memories of him? What did he have to do with her past and why did his expression of tenderness cause her so much fear?
Gillian's mind forced her to confront further memories, bringing forth a flash of uncomfortable sensations that horrified her to the very core. A revelation began to form that threatened her entire existence to the extent that she could not cope.
Her body suddenly did the only thing that it could to provide relief. It went into survival mode and she collapsed unconscious onto the floor.
Fear coursed through Adam's veins as he watched Gillian lie unmoving on the floor. This was ridiculous. All he wanted was to go to her, but he was restrained by Arun's guards. Anger built involuntarily until he could no longer contain himself and he did the unthinkable. He broke loose, but even more surprising was Samuel's lack of response. Samuel did nothing to recapture Adam, waiting patiently for him to discover if Gillian had a steady heartbeat.
It was so out of character that Adam was momentarily stunned. He nodded at Samuel with the stirrings of acceptance. He almost considered the word 'respect', but that was way too strong a compliment. It would take something spectacular for him to use the word 'respect' and 'Samuel' in the same sentence.
Adam exhaled in relief as he felt Gillian's blood surge beneath his fingers. It was a wonderful feeling and he smiled. A collective sigh was evident from Georgio, Tom and their companions and even Samuel looked almost happy. He felt at ease until a sudden and unexpected change enveloped the room.
At first Adam did not sense it. He was too caught up in Gillian's wellbeing to feel the sudden change that bristled throughout the area, and it was not until Tom nudged him that he looked up. Standing at the door looking like a murderous bulldog was an ugly, fat old man. Whilst he looked slow and incapacitated, his piercing blue eyes were alert and angry. He was anything but stupid and Adam instinctively understood that he was extremely dangerous.
Samuel's reaction to the man was of immediate subservience and instantly Adam understood that the repulsive beast was Arun Keane, the vicious bastard behind this whole thing. He studied the man intently, taking note of the large, hanging jowls, drooping forehead and rolls of fat around his girth. His hair was thin and grey and he smelt of trapped sweat in areas that could not be washed. It made him sick and he found himself scowling involuntarily.
If Adam had his way, he would shoot this man and watch him deflate like a balloon, taking pleasure in his demise.
Adam checked himself emotionally. The strength of his reaction to this man worried him. He had considered himself a gentle person, kind and considerate, yet here he was quite prepared to remove this leech from the planet. He understood that this man had killed many people using his drug syndicate and this angered him, but that was not what caused his current concern. Samuel's recognition of Gillian automatically connected her in some way to Arun ... but how? Perhaps she had known him when she was very young but neither Gillian nor Dale had ever mentioned it. This was an intriguing and worrying piece of the puzzle.
Without considering his actions, Adam turned and checked Gillian. She was beginning to open her eyes and he was exhilarated, yelping in joy before suffering a blow to the back of his head.
He was flung onto his back.
It all happened so quickly that he barely realised that he had cut his head and was lying on his back at Tom's feet. Fury welled within him and the headache that threatened to assert itself rapidly took a back foot as Adam moved to sit up. He fully intended to tell that fat bully what he thought of him, but Tom's feet kept him firmly pinned to the floor.
Adam's immediate reaction was to yell and scream. How dare Tom hold him down, How dare he restrain him, how dare Arun hit him! He looked up at Tom for an answer only to receive a stony face of silence.
Something was wrong. Tom looked scared yet determined, as if he had set his mind on something of great importance. What was Adam missing?
He turned just enough to see Arun standing over Gillian with a gun pointed to her head ... and he understood. Any unprecedented movement would cause both his and Gillian's death.
He dared not move a finger and listened intently to the angry conversation that quickly took place between Samuel and Arun.
'Is this woman distracting you from your work?' His voice was condescending and demeaning.
'No, Sir.'
'I think you're lying to me. In fact, I know you're lying to me. You have that expression of weakness on your face that I have tried so hard to get rid of. You have allowed yourself to become involved with this woman and if my ageing eyes have not failed me, I recognise her as the woman you told me you had erased. For some reason, you have lied to me.'
'I did not know that she was alive,' Samuel replied, his voice edged in fear.
Arun chuckled, his voice malicious and righteous. 'Then what is she doing in this tent? I know that she has her friends with her, but I cannot see a missed call on my phone. You did not even try to alert me to her existence despite knowing that she might be valuable in opening the door you have uncovered. It leaves me to wonder exactly what you were hiding. Why you found it necessary to conceal her existence from me.'
'I ... I was not hiding anything from you.'
Arun turned to his guards.
'Did my son have time to tell me that she was alive?'
They all nodded.
Arun whacked his son across his arms and chest with his walking cane before withdrawing a sharp stingray blade from a container around his waist.
He ordered Samuel to drop his pants and insert the spine straight through the side of his penis.
Samuel complied robotically and without contemplation. His representation of puppetry made Adam ill. It was so sickening to see a grown man, clearly suffering from years of mental and physical abuse, do as he was told. A normal person would suffer embarrassment, anger, disgust, but Samuel showed no response. It was a reaction as automatic and unthinking as brushing your teeth or going to the toilet. He simply obeyed.
An uneasy silence overwhelmed the room as Samuel completed his punishment and burnt the blood-ridden cloth as a gesture to the gods. Adam did not know where to look. Staring at Samuel's penis seemed rude and uncouth, but the alternative option was less pleasant.
Arun was grinning at his son's obedience like a Cheshire cat, indulging in the moment of supreme control with joy and absolute satisfaction. It made him insanely angry at this man's smugness, almost to the extent that he was about to break free of Tom's foot and strangle him with his own hands. Unfortunately Georgio reacted first and uncontrollable bedlam broke out. Arun's guards raced to protect him, shots rang unchecked throughout the room, penetrating the thin walls, and Georgio was thrown roughly onto his side. They were outnumbered three to one and did not stand a chance, finding the furore over in less than five seconds with guns pointed to each of their heads.
Adam looked around just in time to see Gillian and Samuel forcibly yanked out of the room with Arun gloating just behind.
He stopped shortly before leaving. 'Throw them in with the other captives. We'll keep them alive for a while longer.'
To say they were stunned was an understatement. It was over before it had begun and they marched like slaves on a chain to a pit in the ground. A ladder was quickly lowered and they were forced down one by one, joining Georgio's captured comrades.
He greeted the captives with affection, but Adam felt out of sorts. The space was claustrophobic, the men dirty, hungry and thirsty and the minimal fabric roofing did little to ease the sunburn and dehydration.
Adam felt disheartened as he sank onto the dirt floor. There was no way he could help Gillian now.
Gillian found that she was forced into a cavalcade of men and positioned directly behind Samuel. She stared at his back in contemplation, wondering exactly what her life meant. Only a couple of weeks ago she had been so sure of her future. It had been mapped out, plotted down to the last minute detail ... but not now. It was like a derailed locomotive that was running on sheer propulsion with no avenue of return. The man she was supposed to have loved was now taking a back foot to the concerns for her dear friends Richard, Julia and Mitchell. Were they still alive? She hoped so, but a nagging feeling of fear brought doubt to her mind.
Then there was her beloved father, the harsh man who had raised her to believe that she was the most cherished thing in his life. He was never easy to live with or easy to please, but he had always been truthful ... or had he? She was no longer sure!
Gillian's mind turned to Samuel. As much as she didn't want to believe it, she remembered him. She recalled long lost memories of a time she spent with him as a child, but why hadn't her father told her about him? He must know who Samuel was.
Gillian wiped away a stray tear. Worst of all was the location of her father. Where was he? Was he dead? She could not bear to consider the possibility. Despite his mistakes she loved him dearly and always would. She smiled suddenly and thought of Adam. He was unlike any other man she had known and despite constant attempts to control her emotions, she was drawn to him like a magnet to a fridge. There was no rationale to it. No reason for this to have happened. Never before had she allowed her feelings to take control of her common sense, but it had happened with Adam. She was lonely when he was not there, she enjoyed his company whether they were communicating or not and she respected his advice, intelligence and fortitude. Despite his inexperience, he was never afraid to give things a go and she respected that. If it was possible to fall in love in less than a week, then she had done it!
She munched on her lip thoughtfully and a sudden push to her back caused her to bite into the tender flesh. A small drop of blood developed as Arun called them to a stop. Gillian looked about, noting that they had arrived 600 feet to the east of the original dig site and shaft that hopefully still contained her friends.
Directly in front of her was a large circular bore that was being used as a passageway to remove dirt and debris from the site below the surface. She watched as the procession of workers decked in hard hats and lights stepped at regular intervals from the tunnel and into another tent where they emptied the buckets they were carrying.
'We've finished with the heavy machinery and the men are removing the final build-up of dirt near the door I was telling you about,' Arun directed at her. 'It will be ready momentarily and I would suggest that the only way for you to save your friends is by co-operation,' he added.
'Why me? I would have thought that a rich, intelligent man like yourself would have the highest and most expensive technology at your disposal. Surely you could just blast your way in and steal like always?'
Arun slapped her face. 'You will do as you are told. Now, get her ready. She leaves in five minutes,' Arun demanded of Samuel.
The tension between Arun and Samuel was almost unbearable although Gillian detected a distinct change in Samuel's attitude towards her. Where once he was her stalker and potential murderer, Samuel now appeared to deem her worthy of deliberation. His eyes had softened and he placed the hard hat and protective vest on her with care. Gillian nearly thanked him before remembering him for the killer he was. She stiffened involuntarily and moved away, although Samuel did not appear to notice as he ushered her back out into the open and towards the shaft.
Gillian looked down. It was deep, dark and wide enough to allow two baskets to pass each other without touching. Despite her anger, she was impressed by the scale of the operation which bought about an amusing thought. Arun had obtained two large camouflage semitrailers ready to leave once they had been loaded with their expected treasure. It would be a fitting and somewhat humorous end if Kinix's treasure was something that he cherished of a personal nature instead of the expected gold and jewels. She'd love nothing more than seeing Arun's disappointed face.
Samuel nudged her to gain her attention before ordering Gillian into one of the wicker baskets that looked like the base of a hot-air balloon. He had it lowered and followed in the one behind.
Gillian took a deep breath. The hot, humid air gave way to a cool and pleasant environment and she almost found herself enjoying the forced isolation. Approximately thirty-five feet had passed before the distant light glowed brightly and she came to an abrupt halt on the bare dirt. She had expected dust to billow upwards, but the floor was damp and slippery, showing signs of water. She found this particularly disturbing as this area was known for its underground streams and the last thing she wanted was to drown.
Gillian touched the walls and was relieved to note that they were dry although the lack of bracing or sealing worried her. This dirt had been compacted over many years, so when a large horizontal hole was excavated, the earth became unstable. In fact she had already noted a couple of fine cracks along the surface of the roof.
Samuel followed her gaze.
'There's no way my father would allow us access unless it was safe.'
Gillian did not respond. Arun did not give a damn about anyone other than himself and his earlier actions proved that even his own flesh and blood meant nothing to him.
She was pushed forward roughly. 'Hey!' she muttered angrily as her objections were ignored and she was forced past a small group of workers before entering another tunnel that veered off in a westerly direction.
Instinctively Gillian was aware that they were heading towards the original excavation site although they were a good five feet deeper. The current tunnel continued to descend a further twenty feet until it levelled out and twisted in a southerly direction. The temperature increased a couple of degrees and the air graduated from a cool but flowing breeze to a stagnant, stale atmosphere lacking in oxygen. Gillian slowed her breathing and stopped suddenly, her actions causing Samuel to crash into her back.
He cursed loudly but Gillian was not listening. Her attention had been drawn to a subtle change in the wall colour.
The earth had darkened and it was damp to touch.
'Shit ... shit!' she said.
Samuel's expression of doubt had altered to concern, but this quickly faded and he pushed her forward regardless.
Gillian scowled. Despite the strange connection she had developed with Samuel, she was no closer to liking him. He was a murderer then and an unpredictable bastard now. Still, he had piqued her curiosity and she restrained from arguing with him, choosing to walk quietly instead.
She also noted that she had begun to tire which she feared was the lack of oxygen.
'We're almost there,' Samuel announced unexpectedly as they turned another sweeping corner to find themselves face to face with the back of an excavated stone wall.
Gillian gazed in wonderment.
In the very centre was a hole that had been created. It was approximately ten bricks high and five bricks wide, big enough for a reasonable-sized man to pass through. Gillian's excitement escalated as she touched the ancient masonry with the nervous trepidation she often experienced when she was discovering something new.
Gillian was eager and energised as she stepped through the gap, eyes wide and senses alert. Her expectations were high and she anticipated the discovery of something great.
She was bitterly disappointed.
With the use of a lantern, Gillian discovered something so devastating that that she felt physically ill and heaved involuntarily. With her head between her legs, Gillian took a close look at the wreckage of the lift that she had last seen her friends imprisoned by.
'There was no one in it,' insisted Samuel, his response characteristically abrupt although she sensed it was meant to bring her comfort and for that she was appreciative.
'Are you sure?'
He nodded as he gestured to a tunnel on the opposite side of the circular room.
Gillian obeyed, her mind confused by the one burning question she longed to know: where were they?
Perhaps they had escaped. She could only hope.
She gazed at the floor and noted the beautifully crafted stone shattered upon impact by the falling lift. It was almost sacrilege to see such devastation as she bent to examine the blocks, each measuring just over three feet square and a minimum of a foot thick. She marvelled at the finely chiselled and expertly fitted joins, the highly polished surface and beautiful shades of colour the exquisite rock exhibited.
Gillian picked up a small piece that lay broken just beneath a chunk of timber and held it in her hand, musing at the apparent misjudgment in size. This piece of block was only two inches thick and her thoughts began whirling as to the reason. Kinix never did anything by half and the unexpected inclusion of a two inch, faded but unmistakable figure on the opposite fascia made her laugh. Kinix was up to his old tricks. He had marked a spot in the floor that hid something of significance by using his own portrait. Only this time she was confused.
His likeness was created specifically to blend into the colour of the tile. In fact it would be virtually impossible to pick out the image unless you knew what you were looking for.
Her heart beat rapidly. The subtlety was so out of character for Kinix that it could only mean that she had discovered something that he had wanted to keep a secret.
Samuel rushed to her side. 'Did you find something?'
'No,' Gillian lied as she picked up a random sample of debris and tossed it aside using the distraction to slide the piece in question into her pocket.
Samuel gazed at her with distrust in his eyes. 'Get a move on. We don't have time for your garbage.' He was displeased at the delay and pushed Gillian roughly towards the opening.
She did not argue, intent on keeping her secret and keen to discover what lay on the other side of the opening.
Gillian was not disappointed this time. She felt as if she had stepped back 500 years.
The room could only be described as large and ostentatious, and Gillian absorbed the details like a dry sponge. The floor was unpolished but glorious in its pale natural state and offset the highly coloured walls to perfection. The ceiling was constructed with twenty plaster panels, each painted with alternating scenes of Kinix's life and the general living conditions in Tikal. Gillian indulged in the mating ritual of the jaguar, the abundance of food in Tikal, the advanced building talents of the Mayans and Kinix's many journeys. The walls were equally telling and Gillian was able to follow Kinix from his first days as a priest to the confusing time after the death of his beloved Bahlum Paw Skull. It was so wonderful and she was so captivated that it took a few minutes before she registered the existence of a door in the wall to her right. Gillian moved to it with slow deliberation, taking a moment to make sense of what she was looking at.
The door was of solid stone and set into an equally solid square frame. A series of twenty rotating blocks with a standard arrangement of Mayan hieroglyphics were placed in the centre, allowing Gillian to recognise the same type of code she used to enter the room where they located the third Kinix diary. In principle it looked to be quite basic, but it was this simplicity that caused alarm bells to ring. Kinix was not simple and, combined with an overly elaborate room, she sensed a bluff. It was almost as if this room was like a fly trap, designed to draw in its prey and move them towards an entrance that promised further treasures beyond. The simple access code was just enough to seem realistic but easy enough to break. Gillian had that sinking feeling that treasures on the other side were anything but.
She wondered why Samuel had not just blown the door like he did with the walls.
He seemed to understand her thoughts. 'Our scientists have hit a wall. There appears to be some type of shield blocking our ground-penetrating radar and we've been unable to determine the contents of a solid mass behind this door. As far as we are aware, the Mayans did not have access to this type of technology.'
Gillian did not respond. She recalled a thesis she read a couple of months ago about vast sheets of mica being used in the pyramids at Teotihuacán. Its purpose was unknown but its heat repellent properties could certainly deter radar.
'Surely you could just drill through?'
'We could, but Arun does not want to damage any potential treasures.'
'You don't need me to open this door. The lock consists of twenty blocks, the same amount of panels that are contained in the roof. The corner of each painted panel has a Mayan hieroglyph that represents their gods. It's my guess that you just need to place them in the order of their importance.'
Samuel gazed at her with an expression that she almost mistook as admiration. She shook her head; there was no way that this brute of a man would show her respect. She would not be silly enough to believe that his intentions were anything but selfish even if there was a clear case of brainwashing.
'It's time to open the door,' Samuel insisted as his demeanour reflected determination and obedience. He would do whatever was necessary to fulfill Arun's demands and Gillian almost felt an inkling of sympathy for him. It would be awful to be controlled by another human to the extent that you were unable to think for yourself.
Gillian studied the locks and quickly spun the dials until they hit their predetermined order, pausing only when she arrived at the final combination.
Samuel growled in anger, but Gillian refused to comply. She was fearful of what she would find. The entire situation was wrong. Kinix loved puzzles and yet there was nothing here to connect the journals or any of the clues they had discovered to this room, in particular the small square plaque they had found in the last obsidian box. All did not bode well and she did not want to be here when the door was opened.
Samuel's face reminded Gillian of an angry puffer fish. Blood rushed rapidly to the surface of his skin and his eyes reverted to the cold, calculated glare she had become used to. Any semblance of his more considerate side had vanished and he raised his hand to strike her when a very familiar voice interceded.
'Gillian, my love. How I have missed you.'
Gillian felt her heart leap. An uncontrollable mix of overwhelming relief and love flooded her very soul and she longed to run to him with a newly found, unabated joy. Emotion overtook sense and she spun where she stood to find herself face to face with her beloved fiancé. The familiar, well-groomed black hair, piercing blue eyes and toned body filled her with so much adoration that she almost threw herself into his outstretched arms.
Her feet refused to move and try as she might, her heart was unable to overrule her brain. Gillian could not make sense of her feelings. What was wrong with her? Why was she unable to go to him?
'Are you all right, love?'
'Yes,' Gillian lied as she looked at his face and saw what she had overlooked all of these years. It was almost as if someone had drawn back the curtains and revealed to her what her treasured father had failed to impart to her despite his numerous warnings. Gillian felt like a fool as she gazed at the man with the smile as false as zirconia.
'Where are my friends, Richard, Mitchell, Julia and Redmond?'
Fred's smile faded. 'You saw the lift on the way in.'
'Are you telling me that they did not make it, yet you escaped without a scratch?'
Fred scowled. 'My fall was halted when my belt became caught on a protruding stone lever. I was just lucky.'
'Lucky, my arse! What did you do to them, Fred? Did you murder them so you could survive? And why are you here with Samuel?' Gillian shrieked in sudden understanding. She felt sick to her very core and despite the fact that she was not a vindictive person, she would have gladly shot Fred where he stood.
'You were in on this all the time. That's why you agreed to accompany me in the first place.'
Gillian was so horrified that she could barely contemplate the thought that crossed her mind: if Fred had been bought by Arun, perhaps their whole relationship had been a fake. She felt betrayed, soiled and cheated. Fred had used her. Arun's desire for antiquities was well known and he had instructed Fred to get close to Gillian for the purpose of obtaining inside information on new digs. Although Fred was also an expert in archaeology, Gillian was closer to leading authorities like Richard and she was also far more knowledgeable on hieroglyphics. It was also her connection to Richard that led them all to Tikal. In effect, Gillian has caused her friends' potential demise. She was devastated.
'Where are my friends, you bastard!' she screamed in fury as she pummelled Fred with all her might before ripping off her engagement ring and throwing it in his face.
'My love, why are you so angry? All you need to do is open that door and I will tell you where to find them.'
Gillian gained control of her emotions and took a moment to note the shallow and somewhat demonic expression that fleetingly appeared on Fred's face. In some ways, she realised that he was even worse than Samuel. Samuel had been brainwashed from childhood. His gentle essence had been squashed and manipulated before he had the sense to choose for himself. Fred, however, made his choice as a thinking adult. He had been bought with the promise of wealth and notoriety.
She spat in his face and watched in disgust as he licked the dribble that ran past his mouth.
'My dear ... as I recall, we have swapped more spit than I care to remember.'
Gillian was mortified and barely reacted when Fred forced her to face the door. He kissed her passionately on the lips before smacking her backside. 'Now, be a dear and open this door.'
Gillian considered her options. She was surrounded by two burly men and was very much alone. There was no option but to comply.
She spun the last dial and heard a resounding click. The door unlocked and seemingly developed a life of its own as it swung inward, revealing a dark abyss beyond. It was both beckoning and frightening and Gillian paused. Samuel and Fred did not.
They stepped forward with confidence, backed up by an unexpected group of people who had arrived in the room behind them. Gillian turned to see the immense hulk of Arun's repulsive body and gagged. He was the epitome of evil, the lowest of the low. If the Mayan society still existed, he would be a member of mitnal the lowest and most horrible of the nine hells of their underworld. It was ruled by the decaying and skeletal death god Ah Puch and was reserved for those who would suffer for all eternity.
Everyone moved aside for Arun as he stepped in behind Samuel and Fred and lit the room with a large fluorescent globe.
Gillian's mouth dropped in awe.
The room was not overly large but sported a high vaulted, pure white plaster ceiling. The walls were erected from large stone blocks and alternate panels of solid jade and gold. The floor was a white marble. However, the feature piece was the solid jade carving of the Mayan world tree that stood atop a gold and obsidian mound in the centre of a very large pool of water. The effect was quite striking with the glistening walls and fifteen foot tree reflected in the water and rebounding off the pure white ceiling.
Arun was the first to speak. 'I want it. I don't care if this is all there is. I want that tree. Can you imagine what it would be worth? I will be the toast of the society with something like this in my possession,'
His greed was beyond comprehension.
'Get it for me,' he ordered as a general unrest filtered throughout the room. Gillian was aware that everyone was of the impression that they would receive substantial payment for their time and assistance. They had no intention of leaving unrewarded, yet no one dared defy Arun despite the sudden understanding that he planned to take the entire treasure for himself.
Gillian contemplated the scene carefully. She knew that this was a decoy. Rich enough to allow potential thieves to believe they had found the mother lode and remove them from the area that contained the true cache. It also posed the question that continued to puzzle her: the presence of water that appeared as fresh and new as the day it was first placed in this room. The only answer she could think of was that there must be a running spring, but where? It was not immediately evident although the lack of movement would suggest a slow but continual seep in and out of the area. It would have to be placed beneath the circular pond, the most likely position being under the central mound that contained the tree. Her only concern was the trap she knew lay in the room.
Gillian scanned the walls and floor. There was no obvious evidence of any ruse, but it was in its apparent emptiness that the greatest threat lay. It was almost like a trapdoor spider, unseen until its prey strayed into its lair. The roof looked to be secure as did the outer walls. The floor was also safe, taking into consideration that it was supporting half a dozen people. As a matter of deduction, the only threat remaining resided in the water.
Gillian viewed it thoughtfully. On the surface it resembled a large pond complete with intricate border tiles and raised surrounds. The edges were well-connected to the floor although years of training allowed her to discover a very tiny gap between the floor tiles and the upright surrounds of the pond. She found this curious, taking into account the expert craftsmanship otherwise exhibited. The opposite side appeared to be equally fashioned and even though she could not see an equivalent join, she suspected it was there.
'Get a plank,' ordered Arun as his servants hurried to comply, returning momentarily with an electronic extension ladder long enough to span the thirty foot gap. One of the assistants went first which created an unstoppable chain of events.
As soon as a certain amount of weight was spread across the ladder and imposed on the pond, a small change began to occur. Gillian noticed it immediately and stepped back in concern. The entire pool had dropped almost an inch, but it was enough to bring about an increased flow of water. Bubbles began to appear on the surface and a distant but resounding clunk shuddered throughout.
And then it happened.
The pool dropped five feet into the ground, retaining a level so perfect that even the finest of engineers would have been proud. Water spouted unabated like a fountain from large square holes cut into the base of the central island, drenching all those on the opposite side. The rush was sudden and unexpected, filling the room at a rate that was almost impossible to measure.
Everyone panicked and ran for the exit, finding that they were blocked by Arun's massive bulk and caught between possible death and the repercussions of pushing him forcefully.
They chose the latter, deciding that death was the less favourable option, causing Gillian to ignore the urge to laugh. In less dire circumstances, she would have found the situation highly amusing although the rapidly rising water quickly brought her back to her senses.
Gillian yelled. She was stuck between Fred and Samuel and forced to wait as the water swirled around their legs with such intensity that it had extended up past her calves before rapidly and unexpectedly receding back into the cavity.
They were given a few precious moments to move back into the preceding room before the tide rushed them off their feet.
Arun's fury knew no bounds. He cursed and screamed as he was hustled forward and was hoisted back into the entrance tunnel and to the surface. He was embarrassed and incensed at losing a treasure that he had touted as his own.
The water managed to retain a steady level, allowing Gillian to wade progressively towards the next basket where she was jumbled uncaringly into the wicker and accompanied by Fred. He grinned at her with the look of familiarity and smugness that she found absolutely disgusting. She hated him with a vehemence that was unprecedented and despite his obvious arrogance, she noted the slight twitch in his fingers that symbolised his unease at her presence. She took a small measure of comfort at the knowledge that she still had the ability to rattle him. This pleased her.
Samuel approached and Gillian was surprised by the sense of relief she suddenly experienced at his presence. How things had changed in a few short days! Samuel was her arch enemy. He had done everything at his disposal to kill her. Fred was her beloved fiancé whom she had been prepared to spend the rest of her life with. Now she had discovered that Fred was actually the traitor, using her for his own benefit and most possibly assisting Arun with his distribution of drugs. Samuel, on the other hand, whilst equally bad, had been forced to become someone in conflict with his basic nature, and if memory served her right, she had known him, but how. She had the sinking feeling that their connection went deeper than just friendship.
Her recollections revealed a boy she spent most of her days with. A kind, gentle person who shielded her from things she was too young to see. He treated her like kin, like a brother or sister, but this simply did not add up. Her father had told her nothing of this boy and she trusted her father implicitly. Surely he would have informed her about something so important.
Samuel took Gillian to the pit that held her friends. He ordered her to join them and she did not argue. After all, Arun was watching from the nearby tent.
Sean was so nervous that he barely controlled the quivers that ran rampant throughout his body. He even took a moment to view the fabric between his legs to ensure that he had not made a mess. In fact, he was so out of sorts that for the first time, he wished he had a decent haircut and owned a can of deodorant.
He quickly wiped his palms to ensure they were clean before clasping the outstretched hands of the president.
Marcus Winston chuckled. 'At ease, young man. From what I hear, you have every right to stand tall and proud. You have served your country admirably and for that you will be well rewarded.'
Sean dropped to his knees on the luxurious red carpet and took a moment to check his surroundings. He was convinced that this was a dream and had to pinch himself to ensure it was reality and not fantasy.
'Get up, Sean.'
Sean could not. The President actually spoke his name. The insignificant boy, born into a family fraught by poverty, was actually kneeling before the leader of his country who knew his name. It was a miracle.
'It's okay, Sean!' Marcus Winston knelt to his level 'My family came from a generation of corn farmers who lived in a house no larger than a standard farm shed. I too was once in your position and I remember the overwhelming impression of grandeur this place represents as if it was yesterday. What you need to remember is that you have earned your right to stand in this room.'
'The Oval Office would have been better,' muttered Sean as he forced himself to get a grip and stand up like a man.
The President chuckled. 'You understand the necessity to keep your visit a secret, hence this underground room, but when this fiasco is over, I will give you a tour of the Oval Office myself.'
Sean smiled.
'Now it's time to get down to business. Georgio's phone call provided little information except that you hold in your possession the one thing that will bring down Arun Keane's entire drug smuggling operation. He also told me that you obtained this yourself after Dale was kidnapped.'
'I did ... with Dale's help,' muttered Sean as he handed the President the small book he had been carrying.
'Let's hope we manage to save Dale in time,' said the President as he opened to book and began to read the list of names.
His lined but upstanding face was burdened with shock and disbelief. Sean thought his rugged good looks had aged ten years in an instant.
The President sat down for a moment. 'I had no idea it was so widespread. I recognise many of these names. Some are even in my immediate employ. It is a disaster, but not one that can't be dealt with.' He seemed to contemplate the issue for a moment before continuing, 'Sean, I understand the urgency to return to Tikal, so it is my intention to send an entire army battalion with you. From a previous conversation with Dale, I also realise that a number of his comrades were captured and are still imprisoned by Arun, so the opportunity to catch Arun red-handed is too good a prospect to miss. It will be enough for us to hold him until we can gather sufficient evidence to convict him for life.'
Sean nodded. He was beyond words. The President had calmly learnt of a corruption that involved many of his perceived loyal employees. Revelations of such treachery, if leaked to the media, could cause immeasurable damage to the presidency, but Marcus Winston took it in his stride like a walk through the gardens on a sunny day. Sean supposed that the leader of the country would face many issues like this, but he still admired the great man for his sense of calm and duty.
He dwelled on the President's words for a moment, suddenly recalling what Marcus Winston had said. The battalion was to return with him. What did he mean by that? Was he to command the battalion? Surely not. Sean gazed at the President in horror.
'Fear not. You will be well protected, but we could use your assistance.'
Sean felt as if he would burst with pride. A request from the President was an honour that he could not ignore. He could imagine the look on his parents' face. They would be so proud. Sean frowned. His parents would presume he was dead by now and that upset him. He wanted to ask the President for a favour, but how could he do that? Sean had never asked for help from anyone in his life.'
He went to speak but stuttered mid sentence. He had made a fool of himself.
Marcus Winston sat patiently. 'What is it, Sean?'
Sean tried again, forcing his voice out of his dry throat. 'I would like to let my parents know that I'm alive.'
The President's laugh was full and vibrant. 'Why didn't you just ask? You can use the phone.'
'They don't have a phone, Sir.'
'Not a problem. I'll send a messenger,' replied Marcus Winston as he requested the service of a government aide.
'All taken care of. Now you have to go. The plane leaves in under half an hour.'
Sean moved to thank the President, but he was stopped in his stride.
'There's time enough for that later. I'll see you when this is all over,' said the President.
Sean did not turn back; he hurried towards the exit to meet Henre who was waiting for him on the other side of the solid steel door.
Gillian was the first to hear the change in sound.
They were too far below the surface to see what has happening, but the general chatter and noise of everyday activities had ceased momentarily until a sudden incursion of gunfire and screaming filled the air.
They were so surprised that everyone ducked involuntarily, even Dale's men who were suffering from heat stroke, dehydration and sunburn. They quickly formed a protective huddle, but it soon proved to be a waste of time. Bullets ricocheted across their heads, causing them to shout in fear.
Gillian's heart seemed to burst from its cage and her hands shook in fear. Millions of explanations as to the sudden inclusion of extra men with guns whirled around her brain, but she could only come to one assumption: they had come to save them.
She started yelling, ignoring the panicked looks in the eyes of her friends. She yelled until her throat hurt and she was sure that they had heard her.
The first face she saw was the pimply boy her father had befriended and she jumped in joy. She never thought an average countenance would bring her such elation, but it did and she turned to hug the first person next to her ... Adam.
Dale's men were the first ones assisted from their prison with immediate emergency assistance given. Stretchers, re-hydration drips and liquid glucose were used and helicopters deployed. Gillian, Adam, Georgio and Tom climbed out afterwards and they celebrated immediately until Sean came running toward them.
'Arun has escaped!'
Gillian looked at Adam and she immediately understood. The only place they could escape was from the compound where they had originally hidden the cars. It was the same place Georgio and Adam had stolen the Jeep, chosen by Arun because of the large canopy of trees that protected their presence from overhead satellites. He would be intending to make his getaway with Samuel and Fred his likely companions.
They had no time to waste. Every second spelt failure.
Gillian grabbed the gun thrown her way and she pounded the grass like never before. Adam and Georgio were not far behind although Georgio struggled to keep up with them. His huffing and puffing brought a snigger from Adam and a general look of amusement from Gillian who in any other circumstance would have used the opening as an opportunity for an exchange of banter. Georgio was fun to stir and Gillian recalled many occasions of laughter with him.
They were closing in now, fighting the rising humidity and sweat that was pouring from their foreheads, but Gillian could smell success. She was spurred on by the sight of the one remaining Jeep and the two men attempting to force Arun into the passenger seat. She feared they would not make it, but luck was on their side. Fred and Samuel slipped and fell, accidentally dropping Arun to the ground. He cursed loudly, oblivious to onlookers who were witnesses to his embarrassment.
Gillian stepped forward. 'Going somewhere, lard arse?' She could not resist the jibe although she knew it may come back to haunt her.
Arun looked as if he was about to explode. 'Get them!' he screamed to Samuel and Fred.
'With pleasure.' Fred complied immediately but Samuel hesitated.
'Move now or you will suffer for your disobedience later,' said Arun.
Samuel lunged forward. It was almost as if someone had flicked the switch from light to dark and Samuel represented the darkness. His eyes had transformed from a typical compassionate human to a blank, unthinking robot. His body language became stiff and defensive and his expression was one of extreme anger. Gillian had seen this look when he'd tried to kill her after her escape from Tikal. He was to be feared and she reacted immediately.
Gillian spun and instinctively veered to her right. She moved in between Adam and Georgio with the intention of forming a solid line, but Fred was ready for them. Gillian was well aware that Fred was a karate expert, but so was Samuel and they ran at them like bulls to a gate. Adam and Georgio ducked, Gillian twisted and let loose with a kick of her own. She collected Fred on the shin and wore his wrath with a striking blow to the cheek. Gillian yelled, catching a quick glimpse of Arun in the background as she turned. He was enjoying the scene so much that he resembled a fan at a ballgame. Gillian was so sickened that she almost missed Fred's next punch to her stomach.
She reacted just as he connected with her skin, dredging up a fist from her own armory and hitting Fred where it hurt -- his balls. He stumbled forward but grabbed her ankles and yanked her forcefully to the ground along with him. She fell, instinctively calling to Adam and Georgio for help, but they were already struggling to contain Samuel.
Fred snarled. 'You bitch. You always did think you were better than me. Well, this time you are wrong. You are going to die and your dear friends will not be able to help you.'
Fred had rolled onto Gillian's body, pinning her feet with his own. He reached for a nearby piece of wood, ignoring her attempts to wriggle free, and raised the stick above his head. Fred whopped Gillian over the top of her head, but he had misjudged his angle and instead of a deadly strike, it was merely a glancing blow.
'Shit,' he swore as he spat at her face and raised his weapon for a second attempt.
A gun fired and everyone stopped to locate the cause.
Gillian cried in fear and relief as Fred slumped forward, leaving blood smears over her face and clothes. He was dead and a moment of disturbing realisation flooded her mind. She had shot Fred. The man she had been prepared to marry. She had shared her soul with him and now he was dead by her own hand. Horror and disbelief at the reality of her actions threatened to overwhelm her and she felt sanity slipping from her grasp. Gillian longed to retreat into the depths of her mind, to seek relief from her guilt until her inner strength came to the fore. Damn it, he was going to kill her. He would have murdered her and suffered no regret. Gillian was merely defending her own life, and she deserved to live. She had every reason to enjoy a full and happy life as the next person. Fred had no right to take than from her.
Gillian sat up. She had expected Georgio and Adam to come to her aid, but they were still in a violent fight with Samuel. To their credit, they did not look like they were losing but neither were they any closer to winning. Punch was met with punch, kick with kick and each was as bloodied as each other.
Gillian fondled the gun in her hand. She had the option of ending the fight with a simple gunshot, but she was well aware that shooting was not her strong point. She dared not risk the lives of her friends.
Gillian contemplated her options and just as she moved to join the fight, a large arm wrapped itself around her neck. Her first reaction was to pull away, to strike at the owner of the arms of steel. She struggled and fought, finding that it was no easy task. Despite the immense size, the owner was extremely strong and Gillian knew without looking that it was Arun.
He had made his way from the Jeep to her side whilst she had been busy dwelling on her supposed guilt. She had let her guard down. She was an idiot.
'Ahhh, my pretty. You've already murdered one of my people. There is no way that I will let you take the life of my son.'
Gillian felt enclosed, smothered by a whale as he used his immense bulk to limit her movement. Still she continued to fight, even when Arun placed his hand over her mouth.
'You have done enough damage and whilst I admire your intelligence and determination, I no longer need you. My work here is done and even though I may have failed for the moment, I will come back. I will find the treasure I have been seeking, but in the meantime, I need that box of papers you have been carrying about. Long after you've expired, I'll be able to continue with my quest for wealth and riches. There is no stopping me. I am God,' and with that Arun ripped off Gillian's small brown leather satchel and put his hand over her mouth and nose.
Gillian fought at first. She sought to keep what little oxygen remained in her body circulating for as long as possible, but it soon proved too difficult. She began to give in until a small amount of hope came her way.
It was not the person she expected. Gillian knew Georgio was the logical choice to save her life. He was stronger and far more skilled in combat than Adam and he could easily overwhelm Arun despite his bulk. Adam would also give it his best. She knew that he had come to care about her and he continually proved his loyalty and bravery despite the trials he faced.
But it was neither of them.
Gillian recognised Samuel's voice instantly. He was not pleading or talking, he was shouting. The words he said imprinted themselves in her brain for all eternity.
'You will release her, or by the will of the gods, I will shoot you.'
'You stupid boy. You have feelings for this woman. How can you be such an idiot. Women like her are only good to fuck. They do not obey and are certainly not loyal. No, my dear son. She deserves to die and you will not defy me.'
'For the first time in my life, I will not do as you have ordered. I will not be bullied by a fat tyrant who masquerades as a father. If you do not let her go, I will kill you and you know that I'm more than capable.'
Arun did not reply, his retort interrupted by a stampede of feet encroaching on their position.
Gillian realised that the army had come to their rescue and, true to form, they arrived on the scene within seconds. But the feet stopped. What were they doing? Why did they not rescue her?
Gillian suddenly realised that they must have recognised the threat on her life and considered it safer to wait for the outcome between Arun and Samuel. Interceding now would only cause Arun to react impulsively and remove the problem between them -- her.
Samuel was her only hope.
Arun removed his hands from her face and clinched her neck in a vice-like grip. She struggled to breathe.
'Okay, boy. Give me one reason why I should not snap her neck like a bird.'
Samuel leaned forward and placed his mouth near Arun's ear. Gillian listened intently, knowing that the information she was about to hear would be fundamental in her release. She wanted to know what Samuel could possibly say that would convince Arun to let her go.
'She is my sister.'
Arun gasped and dropped his hands immediately. His eyes did not reflect an understanding of how Samuel's revelations could be true, but the memory of a wife and a young daughter passed off as his own came to the fore and he screamed. 'She is dead! I made sure of that!'
He went into an absolute flurry, his total loss of control allowing the army to grab him and place him into custody. His charges were imprisonment, desecrating a world heritage site and attempted murder, but no one was cheering.
They were shocked.
Arun did not give up as they hoped. He continued to fight, continued to defend his honour. He loudly accused his advisers of leading him astray and confirmed that his principal conspirator was Samuel.
'He may be my son, but it was his visions that I followed. I would never have come to Tikal if he had not encouraged me to do so. If anyone should be accused for the mess here, for the desecration of this site, the imprisonment of the men, it should be my son. It was entirely his fault.'
Samuel scowled and lunged for his father before being restrained by the army. 'You lying bastard!' Samuel screamed as he struggled to free himself before continuing to curse the men holding him.
'Don't touch me! Fucking let me go! I'll rip those traitorous eyes from his head, strip the adulterous heart from his chest, cut his head from his body and leave it as a warning for all who want to be like him!' Samuel screamed and could barely be controlled as they dragged Arun away. He wanted to kill him and those who knew Samuel did not doubt that given the opportunity, he would do it in a minute and without regret.
Gillian did the only thing she could, the only thing that seemed right. She went to Samuel. For some inconspicuous reason, she was not afraid of him. She was more afraid of potential disaster if he was allowed to escape and play out his fantasy.
Killing Arun was not an option. They needed him as an example to the world.
She placed her hand on his arm and stared at him. Her words were firm, short and to the point. 'He has controlled your entire life. Don't let him manipulate you now.'
Samuel's rage did not to abate, but a shadow of doubt flickered across his face. He lowered his murderous eyes and looked at her for a moment, considering her comments despite an overwhelming anger that required revenge to quench.
Gillian saw the inner battle that he fought, the desire to show Arun just how much he hated him. Samuel was a killing machine and she knew that it would take very little to murder the man who had influenced him for so long. She stared at him and for the second time saw a new side to the man who had declared himself her brother. A man who momentarily resembled the boy that stirred her distant memories. Gillian had no love for him, but there was the stirring of empathy that broke open new feelings. She had no aspiration to see him pay for the death of a man who had murdered so many.
Extreme self-control reigned and Samuel tossed his hands in the air in a desperate move to gain control. He knocked over the men restraining him with little effort and walked away.
A collective sigh ensued and Gillian felt a sense of achievement. It had worked, but there was another urgent matter at hand that required their immediate attention.
She turned to Georgio and Adam with pleading in her eyes. She did not need to speak; Georgio knew exactly what she wanted.
'Let's go and find them,' he said.
'Do you think they are still alive?' she asked.
'I don't know. I truly don't know.' Georgio shook his head.
They had successfully rallied the troops and those who remained collected around the entrance to the original dig site.
Gillian took control. 'These are the facts as far as I know. The lift fell, but there was no evidence of bodies and Fred had also intimated that they were alive.'
Tom interrupted. 'But how did Fred make it out?'
'Fred always came prepared for any situation. The failure of the ancient lift rope would have come as a surprise, but it was likely that he used an abseiling harness to escape death.' Gillian could barely mention his name. The hurt and betrayal she felt was extraordinary, but there was also a sense of relief. She was so much better off without him.
Gillian continued, her voice projected so everyone could hear her. 'I do know that Kinix would have had a small room built at the same time that the tunnel was excavated. This would be to avoid the exposure of his secret and to ensure all tools and equipment were on hand. The power of deduction concludes that this is the only way my friends could have survived.'
'So, where do we start looking?' asked one of the soldiers.
'Your guess is as good as mine although it is not likely that it will be near the base of the tunnel. Easy access would demand it to be closer to the surface, so I would suggest digging from the top down,' replied Gillian.
'Damn obsidian is going to cause problems though. I have no idea how we are going to cut through without shattering the entire tunnel. It was the reason why Arun avoided the passageway altogether whilst excavating,' said Georgio.
'Diamond drill,' responded Adam brightly and suddenly.
Georgio chuckled. 'You could be onto something, but where are we going to get one of those in time. Unless I'm missing something we are many miles from a manufacturer.'
'I know where to find one.'
Everyone turned in response to the booming voice of authority.
It was Samuel.
Gillian raised her head and waited for him to answer.
'We have one here, Ahaw ... ' he paused for a moment, seemingly in pain, 'I mean, Arun ... had almost every drill available.'
'So, why didn't you use it?'
'There is no real way to determine if it's going to work and Arun did not want to risk damage to any treasure, so we used the traditional method.'
'Well, what are we waiting for?' asked Gillian as she clapped her hands and gestured impatiently. 'Let's go and find them.'
Everyone rallied. A few people ran to get the drill and various digging equipment whilst Gillian located the top of the tunnel which lay thirty feet from the ancient residence.
Within minutes they had begun to dig through the dirt and antiquated rubble, revealing a myriad of items used on a daily basis by the Mayans. In normal circumstances, Gillian would have been enthusiastically rummaging like a dog for a bone, but today the thousand year old plate and the hand-modelled figure of Chac meant nothing. All she cared about was her friends.
She was becoming increasingly impatient the longer it took, although in reality it was less than thirty minutes before they reached the top of the tunnel marked by a solid stone roof.
Again, another thirty minutes passed before they were able to see the first signs of the obsidian which, true to form, was black and ominous and as sharp as if it had just been cut.
Gillian felt a tremor of excitement. They were close and the moment the drill began to pierce the stone without so much as a wayward crack, Gillian relaxed. She allowed herself a rare moment to think that everything was going to be okay.
She had to believe that she was not too late. That her friends had survived.
Gillian suddenly felt ill. Bile rose in her throat and she bent forward to regain her balance.
Adam placed his arm over her shoulder.
'It'll be all right, Love, you'll see.'
Gillian half smiled. She longed to believe him, but fear overwhelmed her. Perhaps they were too late after all.
A large piece of obsidian broke away and fell all the way to the bottom. Sunlight burst into the tunnel and Gillian was able to witness the exquisite precision of the passageway for the first time in 1500 years. Kinix did not do things by halves and this was the perfect example of his unique craftsmanship.
Although it was made of many pieces of obsidian, barely a join was visible which made locating the larger seams of the small room extremely easy.
It was positioned about twenty feet from the surface and as Gillian had predicted, the expected panel that would have been placed over the opening of the tunnel had been removed. They were inside.
To their credit, Georgio and Adam both offered to be the first to view the feared disaster, but Gillian felt it was her duty. She did not want anyone to soften the blow. She wanted to see what had happened for herself.
Gillian buckled up the harness and looked at Adam. He winked at her in encouragement.
Gillian smiled. Adam always supported her no matter the situation.
'Okay, I'm right to go,' determined Gillian as Georgio waited for her to find her footing and lowered the rope.
Although she was an experienced rock climber, Gillian moved one step at a time. The obsidian was highly polished and extremely slippery and she did not want to make a false move which could potentially spell her death. As a result, her progress was slow and infuriating, giving her plenty of time to dwell on her thoughts. A nagging feeling of disaster had infiltrated her like a death wish and even though she fought to push it aside, she did not have to delve too deeply to discover the cause. She knew that if her friends were alive, they would have heard their voices and shouted for help.
They heard nothing. It was as silent as a tomb!
Gillian reached the entrance of the room in a little over ten minutes, pausing momentarily to switch on the torch and move to the edge. Before she entered, she shone the torch above her to check that 1500 years had not compromised the internal structure of the roof which remained as solid as the day it was built. She sighed in relief, lingering on the original eyelet that still contained remnants of the shattered rope. Her assumptions about the failure of the lift had been correct, but how her friends had managed to make it into the tool room from the lift in the first place was a mystery. Undoubtedly the plan would have been Richard's, reconfirming her conviction that he was the most resourceful man she had ever met.
Gillian swallowed. Her throat was dry and her palms sweaty. What would she find?
She was so frightened that it took a moment of extreme bravery to lower her body to the same level as the opening and shine the torch inside.
The room was approximately ten feet wide, twelve feet deep and six feet high. It was plain and clean, with the only remaining implements lined up along the back wall. An out of place, large, flat block lay at the entrance, bringing forth memories of an old-fashioned trigger that Gillian immediately recognised as a trap. It was missing the projectile it had been designed to hold.
Her eyes scanned the floor. She did not see what she was looking for. There were no bodies.
Gillian began to doubt her convictions. How could she have been so wrong? Where the bloody hell were they?
'Gillian, what do you see?!' yelled Georgio.
'Nothing! Absolutely nothi ---' Gillian swallowed her last word when she noticed a small crack in the wall to her left.
She unhitched the harness and hurried to the plaster, ripping away the panel like a person possessed. It came apart easily, having been opened recently to reveal a narrow passageway which Gillian stepped into without hesitation. She almost ran the winding thirty feet of precisely cut footings before dropping suddenly towards an ever increasing noise. At first she could not make out the source of the sound, but six feet revealed a small running stream and a tiny cave. She bent down so as not to hit her head and burst through the opening like a bull at a gate.
The first thing that struck her was the small amount of natural light filtering from a small fissure in the rock face situated over the stream. It was not enough to illuminate the cave, but it did allow her to look about without her torch.
With her heart in her throat, she ran to the group of huddled bodies lying in a small alcove to her left.
She paused. They were not moving.
Fear ran through her, chilling her veins and causing a total disassociation with her body.
Gillian's head was raging with anger and common sense, ordering her to take control of the situation and check to see if her friends were alive. Unfortunately her body would have none of it and she stood frozen less than three feet away. The unknown was so much more pleasant than the known, proving that ignorance was bliss.
'A little overdue, aren't you? If this was an exam date, you would have failed.'
Gillian gasped as a suitable response remained stuck in her throat.
She barely believed what she had heard. It was Richard's voice. Her dear friend!
Gillian stepped forward, fell to her knees and embraced Richard with the tenderness of a child. She burst into tears as Julia, Redmond and Mitchell sat up to greet her.
They were all alive.
Her wishes had been granted.
'I'm so sorry to have taken so long,' Gillian started to say as Julia squeezed Gillian's hand with what little strength she had left.
'It doesn't matter. What counts is that you found us in time.' Her thin face stretched in agony as she tried to lean forward and embrace Gillian.
Gillian burst into a fresh set of tears. 'I have so much to tell you all,' her fear giving way to a high, fuelled by adrenaline and excitement, 'but first I must get help.'
'Jilly, Love. Before you go, there's something you must know.'
Gillian gazed at the faces that barely resembled the plump, well-fed people she had last seen many days ago and knew what they wanted to tell her. As far as they were aware, Fred had died honourably and they were preparing themselves to give her the news they thought would devastate her.
She could not let them suffer any more than they already had.
'Fred did not die. Not initially anyway,' said Gillian.
Their faces lit up with surprise
'He was a traitor,' she added.
Gillian looked at their shocked expressions and realised she owed them one hell of an explanation. They did not know about Samuel, Arun, the kidnapping of her father and the time she wasted following Kinix's trail which had proved to be unnecessary in saving them. They were unaware that Fred had died, that she had met a wonderful man and that a pimply taxi driver was actually the one who paved the way for their rescue.
'I may have spent the last couple of days surviving on water and the odd wayward fish, but I am not so fragile that you have to protect me. I know that his body must have been a mess after that fall,' said Richard as Gillian cradled his head and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
'I am telling the truth. He did not die from the fall, but there's time for that later on. I need to get you out of here.'
The process was painstakingly slow as the survivors were moved one by one. Redmond was first with a broken ankle, followed by Mitchell who suffered considerable dehydration and then Julia and Richard who were both able to walk with the aid of an assistant. Their fortitude had been attributed to Richard's knowledge of the Mayans and his belief that they must have had a ready source of water to build the tunnel. His persistence had paid off and he had located the false panel that led to the stream. Whilst food was scarce, the occasional fish had been captured, giving sushi a whole new meaning.
Their survival was met with a rousing cheer of joy as everyone rushed to greet them. They were fussed over, attended to by the two physicians on site and given the best beds, linen and clean clothing available.
Everyone felt that sense of achievement, as if something good had come from bad and they were all enjoying the moment.
Gillian was forced to wait for the hullabaloo to pass before spending the ensuing hour filling Richard in on the events that had occurred over the last many days. He expressed surprise that she had managed to survive, let alone save them from certain death.
'I must read those Kinix manuscripts,' Richard reiterated for the tenth time during their conversation.
'Don't you think you should spend some time recuperating?' Gillian chastised.
'You know me. I'm a stubborn old bugger.'
'Only too well.'
Gillian laughed and handed Richard the manuscripts before noticing Adam by her side.
'Ah ... the Aussie!' Richard exclaimed. 'I heard you were flown out from Australia and were instrumental in locating the position of the last two clues.'
'Fat good it did us. The whole reason for doing that was to open the lift to get you out,' replied Adam.
Richard had a twinkle in his eyes as he sat upright on the temporary stretcher.
'I studied the first manuscript and clues thoroughly. Believe me when I tell you that whilst decoding the evidence was not necessary to save us, Kinix holds a mighty secret that needs uncovering.'
Gillian eyed him thoughtfully. 'Good luck, my dear friend,' she was about to say when she recalled the small Kinix tile in her pocket. She plucked it out and handed it to Richard.
'My dear departed fiancé and his illustrious leader, Arun,' Gillian spoke with a bitter sarcasm, 'missed this and a number of other tiles that were considerably thinner than the rest at the base of the tunnel.'
'Hmmmm,' Richard grinned like a Cheshire cat and carefully rotated the tile in his hand. 'Let me think on this, but right now you need to go and find your father'
Georgio was so deep in conversation with the President that it took ten minutes before Gillian could gain his attention.
'So, what did he say?' she asked.
He grinned before reverting to an expression that demanded her concentration.
'The President has a window of twenty-four hours in which he can keep Arun's arrest a secret. Along with an increasing time frame also comes a greater risk of Arun's drug trafficking ring escaping before we can name and shame them. Added to this complication is the fact that Arun is considered a supreme leader and his absence will not go unnoticed.'
'We have twenty-four hours to locate where the drugs are manufactured?'
'Yes, and only then will we have the irrefutable proof required to bring him down.
'Along with the assistance of Sean's book?'
Georgio nodded before continuing. 'The President's original intention was to do it quietly, to remove the filth while keeping the whole operation a secret, but considerable pressure from his advisors suggested that it would be better to make an example of him. To show the world that power and wealth does not make you immune to prosecution. The only catch is to find his place of business.'
'The same place where my father is being held,' said Gillian.
Georgio nodded. 'The President hopes we are killing two birds with one stone.'
'Well ... Tajumulco was the name that Reynata gave us,' responded Gillian.
'That is also confirmed on the list of names Sean discovered,' concluded Georgio before adding, 'Peter and Reynata will be here shortly.'
Gillian did not respond. She sat in a stunned silence. 'How could I be so pathetically stupid!' She held her head as if she was in pain. 'Samuel,' was all she said.
Georgio looked at her in confusion.
'Samuel was his son. He will know where it is,' she said.
'Of course. I can't believe I missed that,' Georgio looked disgusted with himself.
'But where is he?' mumbled Gillian in deliberation, suddenly realising that she had not seen Samuel since the rescue.
Georgio frowned and confirmed Gillian's thoughts. 'I haven't seen him either.'
She raised her hands in confusion just as a familiar voice filled her consciousness.
'Hello, Dear. I would love to say you are looking great, but to be honest, you look a little worse for wear.'
Gillian turned in excitement and enveloped her Uncle Peter in a huge bear hug. She planted a kiss on his cheek, one which he returned with equivalent affection.
'These are my good friends Georgio and Adam,' she said.
'Ahhh. I know Georgio, but I have not met this young man before,' smiled Peter as he shook Adam's hand. Nice to meet to you, Son. And this is my friend Reynata.'
Gillian turned to welcome the woman with the intent of friendship, but she paused in her tracks. The woman was quite tall, perhaps five foot ten. She was slender with an athletic build not unlike Gillian's own figure and had glorious, long brown hair that swept over the left side of her face, concealing her eye and cheek. Her eyes were blue and she had an olive skin that would tan easily given exposure to the sun. A gust of wind caught Reynata's hair, blowing it away from her face long enough for Gillian to see that the concealed side of her face was badly scarred.
She gasped. Not with the intent to offend but that the vision was merely unexpected.
Gillian frowned, disgusted by her own reaction.
Reynata smiled and used a gloved hand to stroke Gillian's red hair, lingering with affection.
'It's a reaction I'm used to, Dear. Don't feel bad.'
'I do apologise. I had no intention of upsetting you.'
'I have lived with this for a long time. I am not easily offended.' Her smile was warm and tender.
Gillian gazed at her in length, quickly forcing her eyes away in fear of lingering too long. She did not wish to be impolite, but there was something about her that she felt drawn to. It was not her looks or the knowledge that she had seen Reynata in a photo. It was the sense of familiarity that was very similar to the emotions she felt with Samuel. Her eyes were deep and understanding. The smile brought a feeling of comfort.
Gillian shook her head. She was feeling rather uneasy but could not place the origin of her discomfort.
The last words Gillian heard Reynata say as they climbed aboard the helicopter to commence their journey to Tajumulco was: 'I had a daughter with that colour hair.' Her voice was muted and sad.
The ride to Tajumulco took less time than Gillian's daily morning slog to work and she barely had time to organise her thoughts before the 2640 feet high mountain rose into view. The highest mountain in Guatemala, Tajumulco, was listed as protected in 1956 and is rumoured to sit atop an extinct volcano with twin cores. It would make the perfect hiding place for Arun due to its inaccessibility and potential for multiple underground caverns.
Gillian analysed her feelings and was surprised to discover that she did not experience the same nervous sensations she had when looking for Richard. She had been unsure if Richard had the ability or opportunity to survive, but she felt certain that this was not the case for her father. A few things came into play. First was that her father was amazingly resilient and the second that the society Arun had created was missing their ahaw. It was unlikely that they would perform a sacrifice without him although it was possible that he had been subjected to torture.
She fervently prayed this was not the case.
Gillian grimaced, her eyes gazing at, but not seeing, the rich reds and luscious greens of the landscape backed by the hot afternoon sun and blue sky.
Peter took her hand. 'Come on, Love. We're here.'
Gillian looked up and smiled, gratefully accepting his assistance and stepping from the helicopter onto the sparse earth.
Her brain clicked into action.
Tajumulco was frequently scaled by mountain climbers and to date there had been no reports of any unusual activities in those areas. Following her directions, they chose an area rarely seen due to its inaccessibility less than 8000 feet from the summit. It was the most logical position and bought an immediate reaction from Reynata.
She gasped loudly and collapsed to her knees in the dirt. The horror on her face was indescribable. Her eyes were wild and primal, reflecting a long-hidden fear and unspeakable terror.
Peter ran to her immediately, comforting her and whispering in her ear.
Everyone stared although they meant no disrespect. It was hard to ignore someone so visibly in pain and Gillian admitted that it made her a little uncomfortable. She did not know how to react. Some part of her longed to run and comfort this strange woman, but another part made her wary. It was an unusual reaction for Gillian who found her sudden onset of emotions very troubling.
Georgio bent forward and murmured in Gillian's ear. 'She was left to die here many years ago, brutally mutilated and alone. She bears many scars both physically and mentally, including the loss of her children and the removal of the fingers on her left hand.'
'Oh,' was all Gillian said as she gazed at the black gloved hand and admired the obvious strength this woman possessed.
'I will lead,' said Reynata, her smile forced and haunted as she stood upright and marched with determination up the steep rocky incline fraught with large boulders and tufts of hardy grasses.
The walk was not as long as expected and although the temperature had dropped considerably, Gillian was hot and sticky. She did not easily perspire, but the stress and uncontrollable nerves had begun to take their toll on her. She knew they were nearing the entrance which undoubtedly meant espionage and the potential of gunfire. It was to be expected that Arun's home would be well protected.
Moments passed before Reynata muttered the words: 'We're here.' She pointed to a narrow chasm fitted between a small rock face.
Gillian studied their position carefully. It was an isolated area and it would be impossible to seek help if they needed it. She was further worried about Reynata. They could not in good conscience ask her to accompany them any further, but she was the only one who had ever been inside. Her assistance would be invaluable.
Gillian looked at her and suffered that same flutter of familiarity that had overcome her earlier, and it was really beginning to bother her.
Shit ... she had to get over it. Gillian forced her brain to pay attention to the task at hand.
Tom volunteered to go first, but to her credit, Reynata stepped in. 'I will lead. I'm the only one who has ever been in there.'
Reynata shuddered but set her face in a mask of steely determination and ran towards the entrance without waiting.
They all drew their guns and hurried after her, following her lead through the arrangement of rock formed by nature and enhanced by the human hand. Years of experience easily allowed Gillian to pick the excellent imitation moulded over the natural shape to create a hidden pathway. She knew it would be fraught with dangers and Reynata's guidance saved them from incalculable grief.
They reached the colour-coded door within record time, but the lack of intervention was cause for concern and Georgio ordered them to stop before they entered.
'I'm fuckin' worried. Where are all the guards? This place should be protected to the hilt, but it's not' he whispered, his face crinkled in concern.
Reynata responded. Her voice was soft and shaky. 'This place is full of security. The only time the guards vacated their post was to witness a sacrifice of importance.'
Gillian's eyes welled with tears. Her father would be an important sacrifice.
Adam placed his hand on her arm, but she shrugged him off. This was not the time for weakness or sympathy. Her father needed help.
'Open the bloody door,' Gillian ordered, her face set and determined. She was not going to take no for an answer. They had come too far to abandon him now.
Georgio grinned. 'It's good to see you so fired up. You might actually be useful.'
Gillian felt like slapping him, distracted only by the sliding of the camouflage door and the steel-lined tunnel it revealed.
Georgio turned to Tom. 'Reynata is too important in the case against Arun for us to risk her life. She requires protection, so I need you to stay with both her and Peter. If we are not back in an hour, you must leave. It's an order.'
Tom nodded. 'We'll be waiting. Sixty minutes and counting.'
Raising their guns for the second time, stopping only to take brief instructions from Reynata, they leapt from their positions and ran on their toes along the windowless hallway.
Georgio led, followed by Gillian and Adam at the rear. They moved quickly and with stealth, pausing momentarily before veering left at the small fork, thirty feet from the entrance. A further forty-five feet passed before they came to another metal door with the familiar Calendar Round symbol imprinted into the centre and a modern keypad with Mayan numerals. Georgio did not hesitate to press the four dots atop three lines, symbolising the Mayan number nineteen, and prayed that Arun had not changed the code since Reynata's departure.
A collective but quiet sigh escaped their mouths as it clicked and swung inwards, quickly closing behind them, causing Gillian to turn around and view their escape route.
She gasped. There was no internal handle and no obvious way to reopen the door.
She put it to the back of her mind for the moment, concentrating on the task at hand.
They had just reached a set of stairs which in itself was insignificant, but the evolving surroundings gave rise to a new level of fear.
Cut into each polished marble wall were five niches of two feet wide by five feet high. In each niche was a rope stretched from top to bottom and strung up by that rope was an entire body of a recent sacrifice.
Gillian gagged, more at the smell than at the sight. Over the years, she had seen many sacrifices, but these had been bled out from top to bottom whilst still alive. The eyes were still wide with shock, the mouth agape in their final screams. Bruises were still visible on the wrists and ankles where they were shackled in an upright position against a wall or post. The skin had begun to show clear signs of contraction, shrivelling and drying against the internal skeleton whilst the internal flesh began to liquidate.
She turned to Adam and stifled a laugh. He had turned a bright shade of purple and was holding his hands over his eyes to ward off the macabre view.
'Oh, come on, Adam. Stop being such a child.'
He gave her a scathing look and gestured for her to follow. They did not have time to spare.
Pounding the elaborate floor, they quickly entered through a typical corbelled arch and into a room of cavernous proportions. Gillian looked about in amazement. Clearly designed to either impress or terrify, she considered the latter to be her response.
Constructed entirely from limestone, the walls had been separated into two portions. The lower half was smooth and painted in red, the top half was rough and almost entirely covered in human skulls. It was a sight to behold, not in the sense of enjoyment but in the total bewilderment at the number of humans required to complete such a task. The skulls would have numbered in the thousands and Gillian simply had no words. She was speechless.
Adam's response was a simple, 'Bloody 'ell.'
With a morbid sense of curiosity, Gillian gazed at their features, noting that the mix consisted of larger skulls, most likely to be men, with an approximation of thirty per cent being women, children and babies.
It was so revolting that the hideous, lifelike sculpture of the Mayan god, Cizin, positioned in the centre of the room, barely captured their attention.
In any other surrounding, Gillian would have been suitably taken aback by the squatting figure with the oversized head and large, fearsome teeth, but in this room, it was almost as pleasant as a statue of Venus.
'Let's get out of here,' urged Adam as they required no further encouragement to run from the room, barely missing a contingent of guards who were marching by.
'Ouch!' exclaimed Georgio as he slammed his body against Gillian and Adam, forcing them into a small alcove containing a statue of the rain god, Chac.
'Sorry,' mouthed Gillian as Georgio gestured for them to stay put whilst he checked the hallway.
He was only gone for a moment. 'It's clear,' he advised before adding, 'Reynata advised us to continue along this path and veer left, through another gathering room, down a grand set of stairs and into the sacrificial chamber. She also noted that important visitors were able to view the sacrifices from an exclusive room on an upper level, restricted to the general population,' whispered Georgio.
'We need to find that viewing platform. At the very least, it will give us the opportunity to view the sacrifice and determine how many people we will be up against. Something tells me that crashing a sacrifice unprepared would not be the wisest decision,' contributed Adam as Gillian led the way.
With their backs against the wall, they slid along the large, elaborate hallway bedecked with colourful Mayan paintings and numerous statues, resembling more of a museum than an underground sect.
Gillian paid attention to her surroundings. The bizarre skull room and this hallway were designed to impress. It would make sense that people of importance would continue to experience the same treatment for their entire visit. She simply needed to follow the most decorative pathways.
Winding casually downhill, the current hallway passed a set of interconnecting stone stairs and continued on to another ornamental, corbelled arch. On the opposite side of the arch, the hallway split into two further passages, one with a plain stone floor and the other carpeted in red.
They selected the passageway with the plush carpet, pausing when an unexpected intrusion of voices echoed from the stairway twenty feet behind them. Georgio ordered them behind the base of the corbelled arch.
They had prepared for this, but the inability to use their guns created a problem. Georgio had been resolute in his instructions to keep gunfire to a minimum until they reached the sacrificial room. Any warning of an intrusion would certainly alert their adversaries and spell their deaths.
True to form, Georgio ducked and ran to the opposite side of the arch. He held up three fingers as an indication of the three men coming their way.
Gillian was a bundle of nerves and Adam's white face indicated he felt the same. She searched her memory to find a moment in her life that she could draw strength from and found the first time she presented a seminar to 300 people. She had been terrified beyond words and resorted to creating a box in her mind in which she could lock her fear. She did the same thing this time and not a moment too soon.
The men were upon them within a few precious seconds and Gillian had no option but to react. She leapt from her position with as much energy as she could muster and targeted the shorter man nearest to her. Without deliberation, Gillian raised her gun and slammed it with all of her might onto the back of the man's head.
He fell to the floor instantaneously at the same time Georgio grabbed his target by the neck and wrenched it sideways until the spinal cord separated from the skull. Both men fell to the ground with a thud, allowing them to turn their attention to Adam's fight. He had drawn the short straw, having been allocated a man twice his weight and size, but the head of a nearby statue created a crater in the man's brain and he joined his friends in an increasing pile of bodies.
Moving quickly, Gillian assisted in pulling the bodies away from the middle of the floor and out of the direct line of vision. It was not a perfect concealment, but they hoped it would buy enough time before the bodies were discovered.
With time rapidly ticking by, Gillian almost broke into a run, coming to a complete stop a mere thirty feet later. Georgio and Adam also heard the rumble beneath their feet, both almost colliding as they knelt down and placed their ears against the floor in unison.
Gillian felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She knew what it was and her blood ran cold as panic surged through her veins.
They were cheering. Hundreds of people were roaring and clapping, creating a din akin to that of a large concert.
Gillian knew of only one reason for the entire place to be deserted of guards and people alike and it would be a sacrifice.
Georgio and Adam both looked at her with equal concern, their eyes reflecting the same fear.
They commenced their run, reaching another large room bedecked with faux jaguar fur, large plush couches and a number of tables and chairs. Large paintings of various Mayan buildings decorated the walls and ceilings and a mix of jade and obsidian light fittings were used throughout. Gillian glanced around. She needed to locate a path that would be forbidden to the general population -- and quickly.
She scanned the walls in deliberation. There were two further passageways, both of which were unimpressive and open to regular use. What she needed was something that was inspiring. Something that made the guests feel special, important.
Her eyes rolled over the paintings, panels and joins before falling upon a trompe l'oeil. From the distance, it appeared to be a typical stepped Mayan pyramid topped by a glorious temple. To the right and left sides of the pyramid were two smaller pyramids with a passageway into each structure.
That was it! Gillian ran to the painting and it was exactly as she suspected. The painted doorways were real, but which one was the right one?
Gillian studied them carefully, noting an engraved symbol of an open hand over the left entrance and a fist over the other. The left one was the entry and the right the exit. She pushed the door and they all stepped into a darkened hallway lit intermittently by a modern replica of the wall torch.
Gillian gasped.
Large panels of multifaceted copper sculptures lined the walls, the colour of which was picked up by the torches and radiated onto the solid obsidian floor. Glorious glittering rays crisscrossed the path, leaving the users with the impression of walking through beams of gold. It was simple yet effective, distracting Gillian for a second until she heard another joyous cheer.
She bolted to the end of the hall, reaching a sumptuous and bulky set of red velvet curtains which she was about to rip apart in a desperate need to see what was happening.
'Wait.' Adam shot her a look of warning as Georgio pushed his way in front of them and peered through the seams. He held up two fingers.
Adam took the right and Georgio the left, both pushing the curtains apart in unison and breaking the necks of the seated occupants before they even knew their lives would be over.
Gillian hurried into the viewing room and gazed at the scene below.
The room was the size of a small concert hall with an enormous vaulted ceiling, giant size wall banners depicting the various Mayan gods and a numerous arrangement of statues. Glorious polished tiles with inlaid hieroglyphics embellished the floor, but the pièce de résistance was a miniature version of a Mayan pyramid positioned almost fifteen feet directly below their viewing platform. It was approximately forty feet tall and painted in the five colours of the Mayan compass -- white, red, yellow, black and green. Atop the pyramid was a smaller, glittering, gold pyramid decorated with various precious stones, shells and a flat, front-facing plate that jutted out towards the crowd of approximately 400 strong.
Gillian's subconscious took in the scenery. She recognised the millions of dollars it would take to build such a room, the massive crowd of men, women and children separated into areas according to gender and importance. She also recognised the total adoration of the people towards the priest on the sacrificial platform, but it was her conscience that was screaming.
Her mind, her soul, her very being was silently yelling in disbelief and horror, yet her mouth remained shut. Even a whisper would jeopardise any possibility they had of saving her father.
Gillian watched as he was paraded about the platform like a prize steer. He looked drugged and his hands were restrained. She longed to load her gun and open fire, to end this ordeal as quickly as possible, but Georgio stopped her.
'If we shot the priest now, your father will be left unprotected. Undoubtedly the crowd or the accompanying priests would seek instant retribution and kill Dale before we even get to him. Somehow one of us must reach him and secure his freedom whilst the priest is disabled as a distraction.'
Gillian looked dumbfounded, but Adam's eyes glittered in determination.
'Look, I'm not much of an inventor, but those curtain cords are long enough to reach that platform. They are also on a pulley system, so whoever jumps and grabs Dale can be pulled back up.'
Gillian stared at him. Initially she thought the idea was totally ridiculous, but the more she considered it, the more it seemed to be the only option.
'I'll go. I'll need the strength of two men to pull us back up,' she said.
Adam opened his mouth to argue as did Georgio, but they quickly rescinded, both knowing that Gillian's idea was the only one that had any chance of success.
A cheer of immense proportions echoed throughout the room.
Gillian looked down. Her father's body was being positioned on the sacrificial altar, held down by four burly attendants. The priest withdrew a knife which he positioned directly over the heart and began to chant.
They were out of time.
Georgio fastened a temporary harness from the end of the thick cord, giving Gillian two seconds to prepare herself before the crowd noticed her standing on the balustrade.
She leapt, her mind and body total connected and focussed on the task at hand. This was the one and only time in her entire life that there was no room for error and she sought refuge in the adrenaline pumping through her body. The leap was terrifying and rough as she was forced through the air at a rate akin to the one and only bungee jump she had ever experienced.
Gunshots rang out and three of the guards immediately fell to the ground. The crowd took a moment to process the turn of events before screams of panic tore through the room and people began to run. The priest glanced up and saw Gillian fly towards him, quickly taking things into his own hands and forcing the knife downward towards Dale's heart, intent on carrying out his murder.
Another gunshot rang out, striking the priest in the head, forcing a spurt of blood outward in Gillian's trajectory. She wore the blood on her thighs as she landed on the platform only to find the fourth guard jump at her in desperation. Gillian tried to lift her legs and kick out at him, but she was restrained by the harness she wore. She took it off, ignoring the screams of protest from Adam, and proceeded to swing an elbow directly into the man's face as he pounced towards her.
Her first attempt was unsuccessful, but Gillian rebalanced herself and forced her mind and body to act as one. With a supreme effort, she alternated her direction, catching him off guard and forcing her elbow out and up. She connected directly with his nasal cavity, shoving the bone backwards into his brain and shattering the entire facial structure to an extent that he was no longer recognisable. The resultant bloodied mess was so disgusting that the she could not bear to look at the man who's all consuming rage caused him to ignore his horrific injuries and continue to come for her.
He was finished off by another gunshot from above, the fire further infuriating the crowd who had already begun to stampede in various directions. The women and children were directed to the exit, but the enraged men flew towards the pyramid, intent on vengeance. Gillian calculated that she had less than sixty seconds before they reached her.
With so little time at her disposal, Gillian focussed on her father. She jumped towards the sacrificial stone and quickly assessed the situation. Her father was so drugged that he appeared almost completely comatose despite the fact that he was able to stand on her insistence. He was unable to recognise his name and showed no sign of knowing her.
Gillian quickly realised that she would have to put off that emotional reunion until later, forcing her immense disappointment to the back of her mind and quickly strapping her singular harness to him.
Adam and Georgio began reeling him in without delay, the progress still too slow for the harness to be returned.
Gillian had to find her own way out.
She glanced around, spotting the small cavity used by the priests just as the crowd roared up the final steps to her position. There was no time to waste as Gillian took a leap of faith and jumped.
'Aaaaggghhh!' she screamed as her bones jarred on impact, forcing her to pause and gather her breath as she picked herself up and raced down the remaining stairs. The stairwell echoed with the snarls and yells of the pursuing men, giving new life to her legs.
She forced her slender limbs to stand by her one more time, telling them that the only thing that stood between her and capture was the ability for her muscles to find that little extra energy. She dared herself to fail, allowing herself to imagine what would happen to her if they caught her. Metaphors of losing her head, having her heart dragged beating from her body, rape and mutilation swirled about her head, somehow forcing her mind to achieve a greater clarity.
She had reached a small space and spun around, noting five passageways leading away from the room.
But which one was the right one?
Gillian conjured up previous experiences with Mayan architecture and realised that a priest would need access routes, namely to his private suite, the general population, the ahaw, a place to store his tools and an escape path. The emergency pathway would be used irregularly at best and was likely to be unkempt in comparison.
She looked for such a tunnel, noting that only one matched her desired description.
Gillian did not delay, taking a flying leap into the passageway, to ensure that her footprints were not evident at the entrance, before running for her life. She ignored the various cobwebs, crunching sounds beneath her feet and the numerous damp patches before reaching a solid grill imbedded into the walls.
It was a dead end!
The voices behind her had remained at a distance for a couple of minutes but they quickly separated and began to spread out, obviously intent on a methodical search.
As she suspected, the torches appeared behind her and she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gillian experience stirrings of panic and attempted to force her mind to concentrate and have faith in her judgement. She knew that she had not made a mistake in choosing the correct path and realised that the grill must be a further door. There must be a latch and the obvious place was concealed within the stone exterior.
Gillian ran her hand through the recessed mortar just as the men caught sight of her. They yelled in delight, roaring like a primitive race of victory as they barrelled towards her.
Gillian shuddered but pressed harder, her fingers bleeding as she probed the gaps in desperation.
Then she found it, a small knob no bigger than a button on a remote control. She pressed it just as the first of the men leered and dived for her.
Gillian heard the rattle of the grate and, for the second time in a few minutes, took a leap through the narrow gap, landing on her side and kicking the gate closed behind her.
Deprived of their reward, the men screamed in fury. They let fly with every obscenity available, but Gillian ignored them and picked herself up from the floor. One way or another, they would come after her, so she had to make the most of the time she had gained.
With her feet pounding the old path, Gillian made her way through a winding maze of channels. She had no idea where she was going but kept following what she considered the most logical direction.
Eventually the tunnel split into two and Gillian ran to the right. It was then that she realised she had made a mistake. Directly in front of her were two men, laughing at her sudden confusion.
What had she done? She should have gone left. What a fool.
Gillian turned around only to discover another man behind her and a set of steps rising from a lower floor to her left. They had been waiting in the off chance that she had come this way and their patience had paid off, catching her like a fly in a spider's web. In normal circumstances, she would have fought to every last remaining fibre of her being, but she was tired. Perhaps it was easier to give in, and for a moment she actually contemplated it until her fighting spirit came to the fore.
Damn it, she was not a failure. She would not give these men the satisfaction of thinking they were superior to her.
Gillian raised her fists, provoking a malicious and demeaning laugh. They approached her with a confident swagger, their eyes glinting in delight and expressing easy smiles given when someone believes they are the victor. Their only mistake lay in the fact that they had underestimated her.
Gillian stood there, allowing them to think she had accepted her fate, until they were just about to grab her. She ducked and scrambled between the singular man's legs. Surprise was at a premium and they all flew at her with one of the men scraping desperately at her calves. Gillian responded by forcing her leg outward with as much power as she could muster, scoring one of the men in the face. He screamed in disbelief and pain, his fury propelling him to lunge at her, slamming his body on top of her slender frame. Gillian scrambled for a weapon, finding a stone which she thrust into his eye. A popping sound and the release of jelly confirmed his blindness as he rolled away in agony.
In a conjoined arrangement, the two remaining men grabbed Gillian by her legs. One man tried to move in behind her with the intention of securing her hands, but she managed to seize a handful of dirt which she catapulted to her rear. She was rewarded by another yell and an incensed reaction by the remaining man.
Long past any sort of sensibility, the short, dark-haired young man struck her across the face. He grabbed her by the hair and forcibly wrenched her to her feet before whacking her with a clenched fist on the cheekbone.
Gillian felt her world spin as oblivion spread over her and she collapsed to the floor.
Moments passed before Gillian came to, only to find the man kneeling over her with his pants down to his ankles.
She refused to scream, choosing instead to try and wriggle, but he held her firm until he suddenly fell forward. It all happened so quick that she did not know what to make of the falling body until it revealed an absolutely furious Adam with a gun in his hand and Reynata by his side.
They had come back for her.
Gillian uncharacteristically burst into tears, foregoing any remaining dignity and pride. For once she didn't care that Adam was seeing her softer side, more keen on receiving a few moments of sympathy and understanding. She decided that she had earned it, but then so had Adam and Reynata who had risked their lives to come for her. She was being ridiculously self-indulgent.
Adam smiled and held her for a moment.
'Sorry, but we have to go,' interrupted Reynata with a look of sincerity on her scarred face.
Gillian pondered her expression for a moment, seeing someone of determination and genuine caring ... but those deep blue eyes ... Gillian suffered another moment of déjà vu and extreme discomfort, causing her to look away.
'It was you, wasn't it? It was you who came for me,' Gillian directed towards Reynata as they hurried down an alternate path.
'Yes. Adam, Georgio and your father escaped in exceptionally good time thanks to you. The entire collective were too confused by the events to organise a chase which allowed them to flee unimpeded. As soon as I saw you were missing, I was able to lead Adam to you. These tunnels are not difficult once you have used them a few times.'
'They were your escape routes?'
'Yes,' nodded Reynata as she led them to a hatch and ordered them upwards into the open air.
A pair of familiar hands lifted them to the surface.
Dale, still shaking from the effects of the drugs, grabbed his daughter's hand and held her in his embrace.
Twenty-four hours passed in hospital before she was allowed to crawl out of bed. It was so damned boring that she almost considered breaking presidential orders to sneak into the next ward and spend some time with Adam.
Gillian grinned. Georgio was four wards down, but she could still hear him swearing, complaining and generally creating havoc until the harassed nurse ordered him to shut up.
It was typical of him to be a pain in the arse.
Gillian crawled back to bed and contemplated the previous few weeks. A lot had come to pass that she had no answers for, although she did appreciate the fact that they were all lucky to be alive. They had come so close to dying on more than one occasion that the few cuts and scrapes they had received seemed almost inconsequential. Even her father had managed to escape with little more than a very large headache and dehydration. Still, the President had insisted on complete rest until the meeting and ceremony tomorrow, the topic of which was supposedly a secret.
Gillian mused. It did not take much to know that it was about Arun's arrest and their involvement.
Her mind began to drift, settling uneasily on the subject she had managed to avoid -- her brother, her father and stirrings of a strange woman with an unfamiliar past. It was so uncomfortable and tedious that she shoved it back into the little black hole from which it came. She would deal with it later as a nurse strode purposely into the room. She was elderly and resembled the ideal image of a gentle nurse. She smiled, her eyes twinkling in good humour.
'Your friend next door has been asking after you. If I didn't know any better I would have thought he was keen on you.'
She winked in amusement as she straightened the bed, handed Gillian a clean towel and left the room.
Gillian thought of Adam. He was a gentle man with a surprising inner strength that had earned the respect of her friends. He was not the sort of person she was usually attracted to, but he had grown on her, creeping into her very being like a slow infusion of drugs. Fred, on the other hand, had rarely entered her thoughts since his death. For someone she had presumably loved, this was an inconceivable notion. How could she have been so blind to his traitorous personality? She was relieved to lose her cancerous growth, giving credence to her father's numerous warnings. Gillian wished she had listened to him in the first place.
Shivering involuntarily, Gillian hurried to ready herself for their departure to the White House in less than an hour. Government assistants had delivered her favourite pair of pants, black shirt and flat heels which she accessorised with two strands of clear beads. She brushed her long auburn hair to its glossy best and applied basic foundation, mascara and a whisper of blush. Her pale complexion shone with renewed vigour after twenty-four hours of rest, and her strength had returned. A quick glance in the mirror revealed a nice reflection that increased her confidence as she walked out the door.
Dale, Adam and Reynata were already waiting and they were joined momentarily by Georgio who sauntered out with a smug smile followed by a blushing nurse.
'You dirty dog,' laughed Dale.
'At least I'm still desirable,' retorted Georgio with a grin.
Gillian rolled her eyes and gave everyone a quick hug, lingering longer with Adam than was necessary.
They were bundled into a black bullet-reinforced limousine and rode in silence for the twenty minutes to the White House.
A uniformed officer ushered them through the rear entrance.
Georgio whistled appreciatively. 'This place never ceases to impress.'
Adam was simply speechless.
They were met by the President who gestured that they follow him to a private room where Sean was waiting for them.
It was a nice surprise and Dale hurried to him with such a rush of emotion that even Gillian stopped to stare.
'It's good to see you, boy,' said Dale as he wrapped Sean in his arms.
Marcus Winston chuckled.
'Sean is part of the reason that we are here today. Not only do I need to honour him for the job he's done but to thank all of you for your services to this country. Your hard work has successfully allowed us to arrest one of the largest and most prominent drug dealers in our country. We have also managed to remand over 200 top executives, ten corporation CEOs and one from my own party. Countless drug runners have been named and we are currently trying to round them all up although this may prove to be an impossible task. Arun's clifftop house has been raided and we have uncovered numerous ill gained and stolen artefacts which have been placed with the appropriate museums. I have also placed my most trusted men in Tajumulco to deal with the community.'
'What's the plan there?' interrupted Gillian.
The President's smile was of genuine concern 'As you know, we have discovered a large child smuggling racket. I have dispatched my top welfare workers to locate and return as many of the children as possible to their parents.'
'What about those who were born and raised in that community?' asked Adam.
'Good question. I have given this considerable thought, taking into account that the removal of the drug manufacturing facility also eliminates their income. In light of this and noting that there are still a couple of hundred people who wish to remain, we have put together a funding strategy to allow them permanent residency. Their current drug manufacturing facilities are of a high standard, so the plan is to use this plant to produce, pack and store large quantities of spices and various other condiments.'
Gillian nodded. She was pleased with the outcome.
'Anyway ... down to business. It is my intention to honour each of you with an award for your services to this country. Your dedication and commitment was of the highest standard and this country has a lot to thank you for. Unfortunately, due to secretary surrounding this mission, these awards cannot be publicised, hence this meeting. I hope you all understand.'
Everyone nodded.
'So, with my pleasure, I now wish to bestow upon each of you the following. Gillian and Reynata, the President Citizens Medal. Georgio and Dale, the military's Medal of Honour. Adam, your situation is unique in that you are not an American citizen. As such, we wish to offer you permanent residency and unlimited flights, within reason of course, to this country at our cost ... and last but not least, Sean. You have been instrumental in the success of this operation. Without you, we would have failed. I wish to award you the President Citizens Medal, an immediate job as assistant to Dale Bright and a fully maintained government house for your family.'
Sean burst into tears amidst the raucous cheering from all in the room.
Gillian smiled at him in delight. Excepting her own recognition, Sean had removed his family from poverty and the look on his face was priceless. A home, which is quite often taken for granted, literally meant the world to Sean and he looked as if he was going to burst with pride and emotion.
Even the president was smiling.
'Thankyou, Sir,' gushed Sean as he showed his youth and went to leap at the President but restrained himself at the last moment.
'You deserve it, but let it be known that I am expecting great things from you. This offer is based on the prospects you offer this country and I do not want to be disappointed.'
'Yes, Sir. I will give you my best.'
'I know you will. Now I am going to ask that everyone leave this room with the exception of Gillian. My assistant will provide Sean with the house keys and Adam with his dual residency and airfare grant. Once again I would like to thank you all. Our country is better off with each of you in it.'
With that, the President handed out the medals and shook the hands of Reynata, Dale, Georgio and Adam.
Gillian stayed behind and waited anxiously until the President closed the door. She admitted to feeling a moment of trepidation at the departure of her friends, worried what the President might want from her. He was the leader of the free world and here she was by herself in his company.
Marcus noticed her tension and smiled with a look of gentle understanding.
'Gillian, I do not need to tell you that your actions saved both the archaeologists and assisted in uncovering the largest drug organisation in this country's history; however, this is not my reason for wanting to talk to you. During Arun's interrogations he mentioned a treasure greater than anything he currently owned. At first we thought these were the ravings of an insane man but the topic persisted. Further investigations and discussions with Professor Richard Deinhart have confirmed the possibility that Arun was telling the truth. This was backed up by the extensive digging Arun has completed at Tikal without our knowledge. I was hoping you could enlighten me.'
Gillian nodded and conveyed the proceedings of the last few weeks to the President, ensuring that nothing was omitted.'
He sat silently and waited for her to finish before replying. 'I am aware of the disk that Adam brought with him from Australia, but I have no idea the extent of this mystery.'
'Kinix is an amazing person and I am longing to uncover the rest of his secret. His trail of clues led us to believe that he is hiding something large which is backed up by the construction of the lift and associated paintings.'
The President sat silent for a moment. 'If it is as you say, then it could be the most important discovery in American history.'
'Yes. Now that we believe Kinix had contact with the Egyptians and other nationalities long before Christopher Columbus and even the Norse, it could change the entire way we view our history.'
'We would be ignorant to believe this was not the case anyway, but to have physical evidence would be wonderful.'
'The diaries I have reveal that Kinix met an Egyptian during his travels and had a clear understanding of Medieval Latin. This has been confirmed by the series of clues also written in the same language,' said Gillian.
'Yes, I understand that, but this is a major revelation and to have something more concrete would assist in clarifying these claims. It is for this reason that I am going to allow you one week at Tikal with a team of your choosing. I'm sure that I do not need to remind you that your assistants need to be trustworthy.'
'The professor, his team and Adam came to mind,' offered Gillian.
'Excellent, although I will be providing you with a contingency of my most trusted security guards.'
'No offence, but some of the people corrupted by Arun were your security guards. I would prefer to use my Dad, Georgio and some of his men,' said Gillian.
'Point taken. I'll look forward to your updates.'
'Thankyou,' replied Gillian as she shook the President's hand and left the room to find herself surrounded by her friends. They were looking at her like a germ under a microscope, waiting for an explanation of her preferential treatment.
'For me to know and you to find out,' Gillian teased as they all moaned in mock annoyance.
Gillian rang Richard's mobile phone and had to wait almost a minute before he answered.
'Yello!' he yelled amidst a raucous din in the background.
'Hi, Professor. It's me, Gillian!' she screamed.
'I know! Hang on! I'll go somewhere a bit quieter!'
'Okay, that's better,' he said a few seconds later. 'I have people repairing the house.'
'Is it all right?'
'Yes, thanks to your father. He had the foresight to request the same people who removed the helicopter to board up and protect my house. It was not the best job I've ever seen, but at least it was secure. Nothing a bit of restoration won't fix, but I'm sure you're not ringing about my house.'
'I have a proposal for you but best not to talk about it over the phone. I'm in your area. Do you mind if I pop over?'
'You don't need to ring and ask. You're like family to us and family do not require an invitation.'
Ten minutes later, Gillian arrived at the home of Richard Deinhart and was met by Julia. She gave her a big hug.
'It's lovely to see you. Come on in. I apologise for the mess, but at least the kitchen and parlour are undamaged.'
They were met by Richard a few minutes later. He welcomed her with another hug and kiss.'
'Okay, out with it. I always know when you are up to something,' he ordered after they had sat on the plush chairs with a cup of tea and Gillian's favourite chocolate biscuit.
Gillian placed her cup down and leant forward. 'I have just met with the President who was very keen to know more about Kinix. He believes that the notion of Christopher Columbus being the first learned man to discover America is so ingrained that it will take a major find to change their minds. Australia has the same problem in that it was taught for many years that Captain James Cook discovered the country when really the Dutch arrived a couple of hundred years earlier.'
'Yes, but we now know that the Norse preceded Christopher Columbus by 500 years. This is considered a fact,' added Julia.
'But the Norse were not widespread and did not infiltrate the native people. Kinix's friend, the Egyptian, did and this was an estimated 500 years before the Norse. It brings about the question that the world was far more widely travelled than we had imagined. Look at the pyramids, for example. They have been located in Egypt, Italy, Spain, France, Greece, China and more recently in Bosnia and Herzegovina. This forces us to consider the notion that it is almost impossible for so many different races to construct the same thing without knowledge of each other.
Take the pyramids in Egypt and Teotihuacán. The layout of both of these sites are exactly the same right down to the orientation of the three main pyramids at both sites. They align directly to represent the Belt of Orion. Kinix and his knowledge could be a crucial connection in establishing a link between the different continents long before we had envisaged,' said Gillian.
Richard considered her comments for a moment. 'So, what do you propose?'
'The President has allowed us exclusive access to Tikal for the next week. The only catch being that I need to choose my own team of trusted workers.'
'So, I'm a mere worker now,' noted Richard in jest.
'I didn't mean that.'
'He is only joking, Love,'added Julia with a grin on her face, 'and don't worry about Richard. He would not give up this opportunity for anything. You should have known his answer before you even asked.'
'That's not true. I would give up this opportunity for you.' Richard looked at Julia with a twinkle in his eyes.
Gillian had that uncomfortable feeling of being an unwanted addition to a personal exchange and wriggled uncomfortably in her seat until she saw an unfamiliar sparkle on Julia's left finger. She tried to look closer without staring but was caught out nonetheless.
'It has taken a lifetime but Richard has finally proposed,' clarified Julia, her cheeks flushed red with pleasure.
Gillian hooted with joy -- 'about bloody time' -- and rushed to congratulate them, almost knocking Richard to the ground with her enthusiasm.
'So, when's the big day?'
'It was to be two weeks from today, but we'll put it off until Richard returns from Tikal.'
Gillian realised her mistake. She needed both Richard and Julia's expertise but had accidentally omitted Julia's name from the request, presuming that they would come together anyway.
'Sorry, Julia. When I asked Richard, I automatically expected you to come with him. I will need both of you.'
Julia looked as if all of her Christmases arrived at once. 'I thought you'd never ask. When do we leave?'
'Tomorrow.'
Gillian said her goodbyes and returned to her hotel in Houston. They had flown directly from Washington to Houston for the sole purpose of requesting Richard's assistance and planned to fly to Tikal from there. Dale, Georgio and Adam were waiting for her, the sight of their familiar faces bringing about a rush of emotion. They were her family and she loved them all, Adam included.
'What's with you?' Georgio asked as they stared at her like a monster in an exhibit.
'I just found out that Richard has asked Julia to marry him,' she said.
'Well, that explains it all. A woman and a romantic proposal. It makes them emotional every time,' teased Dale as he elbowed Adam into agreeing with him.
Adam did not comment, the lack of response not going unnoticed.
'Hmmm ... I sense an exchange of feelings,' said Dale as he looked at Gillian and back at Adam. 'At least I like this one' his reference a comparison between Fred and Adam.
Gillian frowned and chose to ignore him.
Adam had a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat as did Georgio, who whistled in appreciation.
'Who would have guessed ... Gillian and an Australian teacher.'
Gillian walked away. The last thing she needed was her father to tease her about her feelings for Adam. This was not the time and place, but the issue of family did bring about another problem. Samuel. Where was he? They had not seen him since the altercation at Tikal and even though she did not particularly care for him, he was her brother.
Gillian gazed at her father. To date, she had avoided the topic of Samuel and Reynata, but another problem had arisen. Since receiving their medals, Reynata had returned with Uncle Peter to their respective homes. Their goodbyes were pleasant enough, but an uncomfortable barrier between Gillian and Reynata persisted. It was noticed by all, but no one had the fortitude to address the underlying issues, particularly Gillian who could not quash the sense of familiarity and comfort Reynata bought to her.
That evening, Gillian settled into the crisp hotel bed. She was looking forward to a decent, uninterrupted sleep but much to her chagrin, it did not come. She was haunted by bizarre scenes of murder and an ever persistent priest in strange garb. The smell of bacon and eggs was a welcome change.
Adam had cooked breakfast, his culinary skills putting her dismal dry toast attempts to shame!
'And you're a good cook as well,' she said.
'Yep. Not the best, but I can hold my own,' Adam replied as Gillian gave him an impromptu hug which he returned with tenderness and a small peck on the cheek.
Georgio whistled from the doorway. 'Well, the Ice Maiden has a heart.'
She scowled at him and pushed him aside in favour of her father who had just joined them.
'Our ride is due in fifteen minutes. We have to hurry as Richard, Julia and Tom will meet us at the airport. We are also lucky to have Redmond, Mitchell and Tom, who have sufficiently recovered from their ordeal to accompany us.
Gillian considered Tom for a moment. 'Why didn't Tom receive an award?'
'He did. He was promoted and given a considerable pay rise.'
'That's good,' replied Gillian 'Tom deserves to be rewarded for the part he played in this whole fiasco.'
No one replied as a knock on the door signalled their departure.
It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at Tikal, and the sun had begun to set. The general consensus was to start work in the morning, allowing them a night's rest in one of Samuel's remaining tents. It had proved to be a good decision and they slept in relative comfort until the howler monkeys woke them the following morning.
Gillian was the first to arise, eager to start their exploration. She had given this whole trap scenario careful consideration and quickly determined that speculating on any further snares was a waste of time. Field work was far more efficient and she was excited. This was the first time that she would have the opportunity to explore unimpeded without trying to murder them.
'I would like to thank you for giving me a whole new interest in life. This beats a classroom of snotty-nosed kids anytime,' said Adam.
Gillian pretended to ignore Adam who had just walked into the room. 'Are you telling me that my profession in better than yours?' Her response was smug and self-assured.
'Hell, yes. I couldn't sleep last night with excitement. I feel like I've rediscovered a new lease on life.'
'Well, Mister Archaeologist. Are you ready to come and explore with me?'
Adam grabbed Gillian's hand and drew her to him for a hug. She responded with affection.
Georgio wolf whistled as he joined the duo in the small tent. 'Okay, you two. Let's get a move on,' he ordered as he winked at Gillian.
She blushed but fell obediently into line as they walked briskly toward the dig site.
'Which way, Jilly?' asked Richard.
'We have two options. Through the tunnel created by Arun or back into the cave where I found you.'
'I did not locate anything of significance in the immediate area of our incarceration. It's my opinion that the stairway down to the river was for exactly that reason; to provide a ready source of water to the workers on site. I would suggest that the alternate route would prove to be more beneficial,' offered Richard as Gillian nodded.
'At least we have time on our side,' intervened Adam as they moved towards Arun's inactive machinery and lowered each person singularly into the shaft.
Upon reaching the bottom, Gillian was pleased to note that the water had subsided and they were able to walk with ease to the room that contained the ruins of the lift.
'Shit. That's a long way up. If we had remained in that lift, we would have died for sure,' said Redmond.
'Yes, it makes me wonder just how Fred made it out alive,' mused Richard as Gillian pointed to the lever just out of reach on the far wall.
'Apparently he stopped his fall on that.'
'So, what do you reckon the lever's for? It looks a little out of place,' asked Adam as Gillian glanced up in deliberation.
Richard interceded. 'Since our rescue, I've had a fair bit of time to consider the set-up of this passageway. It's my professional judgement ...' Mitchell sniggered in amusement as Richard cleared his throat and ignored him, 'that the lift was originally constructed as a vehicle to allow workers access to the entire tunnel.'
Gillian frowned as Richard sought to clarify his statement. 'The lift had a solid wooden frame that would have made the perfect platform to work from. The four walls were added later on completion of the tunnel.'
'That makes sense. So, how did they control it?' asked Georgio.
'Instead of being tied off at the roof, the rope would have extended all the way into the lift and be controlled by a pulley system. The lever would have been an emergency stop button or a switch to open something when the lift reached that level.'
Gillian considered his words carefully. 'I believe that it may have been a switch, taking into account that the builders turned the lift into a trap, clearly not wanting it to travel up and down as it had done previously. They would have considered the tunnel impervious, creating a series of traps at the base for anyone who bypassed the original shaft and tried to dig their way underneath, but the only way to find out is to try it. Who wants to give me a leg up?'
'I have a better idea,' suggested Adam as he grabbed a discarded piece of rope and tossed it towards the lever. His aim was true and the rope lay in suspended animation for a moment before dropping faithfully down the other side.
'Good shot,' whistled Gillian appreciatively.
'I did enjoy the occasional game of Aussie Rules Football,' replied Adam smugly as he grabbed both ends of the rope and pulled.
At first nothing happened and it required the assistance of Georgio, Dale, Mitchell and Redmond to force it downwards until it clunked against the metal base and could move no further.
Still nothing!
No door opened, no trap appeared, although Gillian did feel a slight shaking of the floor beneath her feet. She did not consider it to be of any significance until she recalled her previous thoughts: travel up and down.
That was it. She suddenly knew what they were looking for and it did not bode well for them.
The lift was intended to keep travelling down, tying in with the tile she found depicting Kinix's likeness. She recognised his pattern of self-gratification and understood that he was merely placing his signature on the newly created false floor designed to conceal what lay beneath them.
It was a moment of pride at completing his work! The only issue!
They had activated the trigger to open it and they were all standing on it.
Gillian spoke first, ensuring her voice carried the urgency and directive she required. They were all in extreme danger and any rash movement would cause all of their deaths.
'You must all stand exactly where you are. Do not move a foot.'
Everyone listened.
'I do not have time to explain, but right now, we are all standing on a false floor which we have just activated,' said Gillian.
'I should have known!' exclaimed Richard in extreme disgust at his failed deduction.
'Redmond, you're the closest to that rope. Please reach for it, taking care not to move your feet. Pull it off and throw one end to Julia.
'Julia, you are the only one not standing on the floor. I need you to tie the end of the rope to the hook we used to lower ourselves from the surface.'
Gillian quickly looked around. It was as she thought. Everyone was within one step from the edge of the tiles, but she was dead centre, right next to Adam. They had no possibility of escape before the floor collapsed.
Adam looked at Gillian, glanced down at the floor and suddenly understood her dilemma.
'Hurry up, Julia!' he shouted as her voice echoed in reply.
'Good to go!'
Gillian quickly but fluidly tied the rope around her waist and then around Adam.
'On the count of ten, I need each of you to leap for the edge closest to you. And you must not make a mistake! Your lives depend on it!' said Gillian.
She began counting, the tension mounting with each number until she eventually reached ten. Everyone leapt, the sudden shift in weight creating a massive crack through the thin layer of tiles below.
She looked at Adam, wrapped her arms around him and hung on for dear life as the floor split in two.
Gillian muttered a small prayer as the blackness enveloped her, bringing forth the memory of her first and only skydive. It had been so scary that she vowed never to do it again, but here she was again, only this time it wasn't voluntary. To make matters worse, she had no idea just how long the rope was or even if Julia had secured it correctly.
What if the rope was longer than the space through which they were plummeting down!
Gillian gripped Adam in absolute terror until they instantaneously came to a bone crunching, muscle stretching jerk before being ricocheted upwards for a few feet and unceremoniously dumped for a second time.
'Oh fuck, Mate,' cursed Adam as they lay dangling over an unknown space below.
'I feel as if I've broken every bone in my body,' complained Gillian as they remained dangling until she was able to free her hand and reach for the small torch she carried in her tool belt.
She switched it on and together they screamed until they could yell no more.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' was all Adam could say until Gillian forced him to calm down. They were face to face with a set of twelve mannequins that were positioned two feet from their position. Each one was so extraordinarily realistic, painted and detailed with such meticulous care that their intended purpose of frightening off intruders worked like a treat.
'Why are they so scary?' asked Adam as Gillian untied him and they dropped the short distance to the ground.
'Hmmm. If memory serves me right, they must be the twelve lords of the Xibalba.
'The what?'
'The twelve lords of Xibalba were the ruling lords of the Mayan underworld. They represent death and destruction and were designed to trap anyone who wanted to enter the city.'
'Well, they've done the job for me. The expressions on those awful faces is enough to give me nightmares for the rest of my life.'
'I'm sure it's not as bad as that, but they're bloody good though! Good enough to rival the best props used in movies these days.'
'So. What does all of this mean?' asked Adam as he joined Gillian in switching on his torch and shining it around the room.
The space was made to ensure that nothing in the room distracted attention away from the lords, from the unimpressive square room painted in dark hues to the rough stone floor and raw rock ceiling. It achieved the desired results.
'Legend tells a tale of a great underground city ruled by twelve very powerful evil lords. These lords loved to set up tricks to either confuse or kill their visitors and no mercy was given, even if they were able to overcome the trials. One of the victims was the father of the Mayan twins Hunahpu and Xbalanque. These twins were eventually able to defeat the Xibalbans and bring their father back to life'
'Wow, so what does this mean for us? Where do we go from here?' asked Adam as Dale shouted from above, his voice barely intelligible.' It sounded as if he was asking if they were okay and Gillian responded as loudly as she could.
'We're fine! We're going to look around!' Gillian did not know if they heard her, but she had to continue regardless. There was no immediate way out, only forwards.
'So, where do we start?' asked Adam.
'It's my guess that we have found ourselves at the beginning of a series of tests and if I recall the tale correctly, the lords would normally request a guest to sit at the table with them. If they complied, they would be burnt and humiliated by a heated cooking stone under the seat. The hero twins correctly identified the real lords at the table by sending a mosquito to bite them.'
'So, you're telling me that we need to look for a lord who has mosquito bites?' said Adam incredulously.
'I don't know. It's only a guess.'
'An excellent guess, I'm sure,' said Adam as they approached the figures with caution.
Close attention proved that the mannequins were as good close up as they were from a distance, but avid scrutiny proved fruitless until Adam spotted a slight fault in the outer coating of one of the figures. He touched it gently to ensure its validity before peeling it apart with the gentleness of a surgeon. He looked inside and received his second shock in a few short minutes.
'I have it,' he whispered, too stunned to force his vocals to comply.
Gillian rushed over and followed Adam's line of sight. It revealed a genuine skeleton.
'This is the one we want,' she said. 'Mosquitos would only bite a real body,' and in an act of impulsion, Gillian wrenched the skeleton from the bench and quickly located a small indentation in the seat. She ran her finger around the rim, noting the tiny marks, and could not think of anything she had discovered that would fit. Gillian took a moment to force her mind to correlate the clues Kinix had left to date, remembering that the only one she had not decoded was the small ball found with the last script. She was suddenly thankful she had not given the items to Richard along with the manuscripts.
Gillian pulled it out of her pocket and attempted to read the hieroglyphs, quickly learning that this one was simply a set of instructions and not a clue. It told her to press and pull which in ancient terms would have been hard to understand, but Gillian took at as being like the top of a medicine bottle and treated it accordingly. It snapped open to reveal a small drawing and another tiny ball with protruding lines. Gillian looked at the drawing and laughed. It was a picture of Kinix standing on the roof of a house with a smug expression on his face.
'What on earth is that?' asked Adam.
'It's Kinix's way of telling us that his treasure was in his home. That he led us on a merry chase, searching for clues when it had been here all along. He's poking fun at us.'
Adam sighed in disgust as Gillian inserted the ball into the indentation and pressed it down.
They were rewarded with a grating noise at the back of the room and their torches revealed an increasing gap as a portion of plaster split in half and collapsed into a dusty pile on the floor.
They stepped forward with caution, passing through the small gap into another room.
Gillian shone her torch about and studied what lay before her.
This room was painted in solid black and was a minefield of bottomless holes positioned in such a way that it would be impossible to miss them without light.
'I don't understand. What is the purpose of this place?' asked Adam 'and why the holes?'
'Try and imagine life 1500 years ago.'
'Well, for one thing, they didn't have torches.'
'Exactly! In the city of Xibalba, the lords had a series of six rooms, each designed to test the intelligence of the visitor. The outcome was always death if they could not ascertain how to escape. It is my guess that this is supposed to be the first of the six rooms often referred to as the Dark House. The purpose was to confuse and capture the intruders in the absence of light.'
'For once technology is on our side,' said Adam, waving his torch about.
Gillian laughed as they easily picked their way around the holes, reaching the opposite in record time.
'So, what was the next room?' asked Adam.
'I'm trying to remember, but I think it had something to do with cold.'
'What could possibly be cold down here?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Well, what the hell. We've got nothing to lose,' said Adam as he stepped forward and accidentally tripped over a thin metal line.
'Oh, no!' he exclaimed as a stone door slammed shut behind them, enclosing them in a small corridor.
Gillian looked about. The only way forward was through a small doorway, which she did not hesitate to hurry under. This led into a cavernous room made entirely from large blocks of grey stone matching in size and pattern. Even the floor looked to be carved from the same quarry, creating an impression of an impenetrable prison.
'I'm feeling chilly already,' shivered Gillian as a few drops of water landed on her arms.
She shone her torch upwards to discover the cause and noticed four large stone panels that were purposely out of alignment. This was coupled by a loud grating noise, a slight lifting of the panels and further water.
Gillian turned to Adam and pointed to the roof: 'A penny for your thoughts.'
'If this is the cold room, the only thing I can imagine would have been chilly in Mayan times was water. Water running in underground streams away from the heat of the day.' His voice was hurried and nervous.
'Above us,' she said.
'Yes, and just about to cause us a lot of grief!' Adam yelled as the first of the four panels had extended upwards enough to allow a measured amount of water to rain down on them. This rapidly increased to a steady stream, swiftly followed by the opening of the second panel.
'Hurry, Gillian. We have to get out before we drown.'
The third panel lifted in quick succession, causing them to realise they were standing ankle deep in a rapidly growing lake and fast running out of time.
Gillian wracked her brain. She was not familiar with the details surrounding this particular room in Mayan legend, but logic told her that there must be a way out. Recalling the legend would certainly assist, but if she was able to find the opening then perhaps it did not matter. She deduced that the doorway would not be in the roof or floor as these two surfaces were the main components of Kinix's plan. He would not compromise the strength of the structure, so it had to be the walls.
'Adam, check the walls! I'll meet you on the opposite side!' she shouted as she hurried to the entrance.
She was now knee-deep in a rapidly growing lagoon which had been assisted by the noisy opening of the fourth panel.
Gillian ran her hands along the walls, touching, feeling for anything that may resemble a lock or a clue. There was nothing and by the time she met Adam, they were waist deep.
'Is this it?' he asked.
'Don't be silly. We can't give up yet. This is only the second room.'
'Well, in that case, I would like to suggest that the Mayans were smaller than us, so perhaps we should look a little lower.'
Gillian did not reply for Adam to understand what she wanted. He simply began searching even as the water had started to creep up and over his chest, made all the worse by the fact that they were stooping at a height they thought Kinix would have worked.
Adam shouted first. 'Gillian! Over here!'
She waded across as quickly as possible and clasped his hand, following his direction to the indentation below the water line. It was definitely what they wanted and it took a few moments for her brain to process the square shape and connect it to the small tile she had uncovered in the box at Richard's home. She rummaged about in her bag, swearing loudly, before she located the object and inserted it deftly into the slot. It fitted as expected, but nothing happened until she accidentally felt a series of lines and dots below the tile. Gillian pressed the ones representing three, indicative of the word zip and not a moment too soon as the water had reached both of their necks.
A sudden rumbling beneath their feet caught them unawares and initially Gillian feared they had made a grave error, but this was quickly followed by a whooshing sound as the centre of the floor opened and the water was sucked out.
Gillian looked at Adam and grimaced. They were one step closer to the prize, but she feared it wasn't worth it. They were soaked, tired and each corner carried the possibility of death.
Adam simply grinned, making light of the potentially deadly situation they had just faced. 'I know as well as you that there is no way we can turn back now. Even if we wanted to, the doors are closed and unless you know differently, I don't see any illuminated exit signs. Anyway, you wouldn't leave even if you had the opportunity. This sort of thing is in your blood.'
Gillian laughed aloud for the first time in a while. 'Am I that predictable?'
Without the sun on her back and no way to dry out, Gillian was feeling extremely cold. She was only thankful that they were in Guatemala and not the Canadian Alps where survival would be impossible without a snow suit.
Adam was shaking like a leaf. He attempted a humorous grin but it froze halfway across his face before fading to an unhappy smile.
'Mate, this is cold!'
'Yes,' replied Gillian as they stepped down a short flight of stairs, squeezed though a narrow hallway and crept towards an unusual stone door that was as impressive as it was detailed.
Gillian viewed it with delight. It was covered in a panel of silver that had been etched and inlaid with tiny portions of mica to create a complete pictogram of a jaguar.
'Wow!' exclaimed Adam in amazement. 'I'd love to have this at home. What do you think it means?'
'The third room in the tale of Xibalba is the House of Hungry Jaguars.'
'That's not good. I don't know about you, but I've had enough of fighting jaguars for a lifetime. We only escaped the first time due to luck and I don't like our chances a second time around.'
'I agree. There are two options. Either Kinix has created some sort of mechanical jaguar or the room was designed as a den for the real thing. If it's the second option, there is a distinct possibility that the den may be abandoned or overgrown, considering it was created so long ago.'
'So, let's find out. I don't know about you, but standing around is not achieving anything and I'm getting colder by the minute.'
'And I thought you were a hot-blooded male.'
Adam grinned. 'Yeah, baby ... that's me.'
Gillian smirked and grabbed the lever, pausing at the last minute. 'Are we ready?'
Adam nodded as Gillian continued to press in a downward motion until they heard a resounding click and subsequent thump. The door sprang open, releasing a smell that made Gillian and Adam retch.
'Ahhhggg,' gasped Adam as they stepped inside.
Gillian held her nose and looked about. The room benefited from a small amount of light that filtered in from a vertical shaft and spilt out onto a dirt floor. There were no well-sculptured figures, finely carved blocks of stone or even a tiled floor that they experienced so far, but Gillian was not surprised. Kinix had stayed true to the Mayan legend and emulated a jaguar's cave to such detail that it required a trained eye to determine the difference between faux and true nature.
The rocks were a little too smooth and the walls too even although the penetration of tree roots and ground movement had erased the evidence considerably. Gillian noted that the original door leading to the outside had caved in and a number of jaguar bones remained, allowing her to conclude that it had been occupied for a quite a period as intended.
The collapse of the outer door occurred many hundreds of years ago and the smell was a rotting carcass of a small monkey that had become caught in the shaft before deteriorating to an extent that the remains had fallen through.
'It's safe!' said Gillian as she explored the interior, quickly discovering another puzzle inserted into the far wall.
'This one is interesting,' cited Adam. 'It reminds me of scrabble.'
'Hhmm,' mumbled Gillian as she viewed the two rows with deliberation. The upper level of the puzzle consisted of thirty singular tiles, each inscribed with a Medieval Latin digit. The lower level consisted of six square holes into which the upper tiles were positioned. The only problem was choosing the right ones.
'Can't you simply guess? There's nothing stopping you trying a few combinations,' suggested Adam.
'No, it's not as simple as that. If you look under each tile, you will see that it's connected to the wall by a metal post. If the tile is lifted off and inserted into the line below the post, it will fall away. It is my guess that removing the required tiles in their correct sequence will allow the right posts to hit a concealed trigger. If we are wrong ... who knows what will happen.'
'How can we be wrong? The code will be "b-a-h-l-a-m".'
Gillian did not respond for a moment, eventually throwing her hands into the air in a gesture of surrender.
'Bloody hell, I reckon you're right. Bahlum was the code for the third box and it's the right number of digits.'
Gillian quickly removed the tiles and was rewarded with a resounding click and the swinging of a concealed exit.
'Now, that's one for me,' said Adam smugly as Gillian conceded with a roll of her eyes.
'Hurry!' yelled Adam as the revolving panel swung inward, giving them less than ten seconds before it swivelled back into its original position. They raced, dodged and squeezed though the narrow opening, coming to an ungainly end on the opposite side. They landed in an embarrassing tangle of arms and legs and Gillian could not resist laughing at their efforts to free themselves. Unfortunately she also fell forward, accidentally hitting a narrow upright pole.
She gasped in horror as the pole tilted forward activating an invisible switch that in turn made a series of previously unnoticed panels in the roof vibrate.
Gillian watched in disbelief as the ceiling seemed to develop a life of its own and it took a few minutes for her to understand the reason.
'Fuck,' she uncharacteristically swore. The fourth room was the Bat House and it still fulfilled the purpose it was intended for. Thousand of bats lined the entire roof creating the impression of a vast expanse of velvet. It was an extraordinary scene.
Unfortunately, the bats had been rudely woken from their sleep and they were disorientated and chaotic. They instantaneously abandoned their perches and flew around in absolute disarray, screeching, fluttering and clawing anything that was unlucky enough to be in their way.
'Now what?!' yelled Gillian as Adam grabbed her by the collar and wrenched her to the ground.
'What was that for?' Gillian demanded, requiring an explanation as to why her wet hair was covered in a layer of dust, and bat faeces.
'We have no option but to crawl out. Any further movement will only agitate them and unless you want to be ripped apart like a piece of meat, this is the only way.'
'I beg to differ. It looks as if we have activated something else.' Gillian pointed to the rapidly descending grate at the far side of the cave.
'There is no way we can make that.'
'I don't see that we have any choice!' shouted Gillian as she jumped to her feet and ran. She moved like never before, pushing her legs until they ached with the effort. She noted that Adam was breathing down her neck, but even with him forcing her forwards, she did not think they were going to make it. The bats also impeded their progress, flapping about them, scratching any uncovered skin and tearing at Gillian's hair. The pain of the fearfully sharp claws was similar to a slash from a knife and she resisted screaming in frustration and anger, choosing instead to channel her energies to her muscles.
They had less than ten feet to go, but even at this rate, Gillian knew they would be lucky to make it.
Five feet remained.
Four feet.
Three feet.
Two feet and Adam yelled, 'Drop and roll, Gillian! Do it now!'
She obeyed and together they fell to their knees, dove onto their stomachs and rotated under the grate, which was less than a few inches above their faces and dropping.
The posts scraped over her cheeks, forcing Gillian to turn her face sideways. Unfortunately this action also gave her a clear view of their new surroundings and she quickly understood that their troubles were far from over.
Kinix was smart and their movements through the Bat House had set a series of events in motion that could not be stopped. The room they were entering was the Razor House, portrayed in legend as a space overflowing with blades and razors. Each tool moved about individually and was a created in such a way that it would be impossible to pass through without losing a body part.
The room was an excellent adaptation of the ancient narrative.
Gillian did not need long to note that the side walls sported at least fifty blades inserted into a series of holes. The roof accommodated an extra forty, extended from individual pivot poles that allowed the blades to swing freely.
'It gets better and better. If we're not skewered by those spears then we will be sliced in half by the swinging knives,' muttered Adam in disgust as he attempted to stand.
He yelped in pain, the scratches from the bats leaving numerous streaks of blood and puncture holes.
Gillian realised that she mirrored Adam's sore and sorry reflection. She was also covered in blood, had dozens of developing bruises all over her torso and a large bump on her head. She knew she was a mess, but for some reason, she did not really care.
She smiled at Adam whose expression graduated from fondness to extreme fear.
'Duck!' he screamed as he leapt onto Gillian for the second time in a few minutes just as a blade was ejected from the wall. It flew in their direction, missing them by a few inches before imbedding itself into the plaster behind them.
This was quickly followed by the sudden release of a swinging blade which also plummeted dangerously close to their position.
'Time to go,' ordered Gillian as they jumped to their feet, barely allowing a second to calculate the distance between their position, the open doorway opposite and the risk of being hit if all of the weapons were released at once.
It was at this moment that Gillian understood Kinix's intention. The purpose behind the open doorway was the same as offering candy to a child. It was meant to draw out those who wanted a quick way out. Unfortunately the reward was death.
Gillian had to find an alternative route, something just out of the ordinary but not too different to attract attention.
Adam tugged at her arm. 'Gillian, we have to go.'
'No, wait,' she insisted as she studied the room with an intensity that surprised her. She drew in all of the room's features from the tiled floor to the weapons, the plastered roof and brightly painted, rendered walls until her eyes fell on an uneven hidden panel to their left. It was the halfway point between their current position and the opposite exit.
'Look ... over there. It's probably a doorway.' She pointed it out to Adam. 'I see it, but there are two issues. The large axe swinging just above the panel is obviously intended to assist in our escape, but if we are not careful, the arrows pointed at the doorway will kill us,' concluded Gillian.
'Okay, so the only way to stop from being skewered is to release the arrows first,' said Adam.
Gillian scowled. 'I'm not volunteering to run in front of those things.'
Adam laughed. 'I had something else in mind,' he revealed as he grabbed an arrow from the ground.
Gillian gazed at him quizzically as he eyed the floor, aimed and threw the arrow with the expertise reserved for a javelin thrower. The direction was true and the arrow landed in a small custom-made indentation on the floor, immediately releasing a barrage of weapons.
Gillian was lost for words. 'How'd you see that?' she eventually asked.
'If you look carefully, the entire floor is covered in grooves. Unfortunately they are so flat that anyone with normal lighting or vision would not be able to pick up the discrepancy. I was simply lucky that my torch reflected on the one that was the trigger.'
'Well, aren't you smart,' Gillian chided in good humour as they both ran low and around the outer edge of the wall. They were minimising the chance of triggering a further barrage of deadly weapons but still found themselves doing their best acrobatic renditions as they ducked, twisted and weaved.
They reached their destination in record time without incident and Adam used his spear-throwing skills to activate the mechanism that held the axe.
'Duck!' screamed Adam as they both fell to the floor in desperation.
The axe plummeted from above, whistling loudly as it flung down, picking up speed until it slammed solidly into the plaster wall. The plaster burst outward, creating a cloud of white dust that covered them from head to toe.
Gillian erupted into laughter as did Adam when they caught sight of each other.
'Look at you,' said Gillian.
'And aren't you gorgeous,' teased Adam, taking the opportunity to wipe her face.
Gillian smiled at him before turning and stepping through the gaping hole into a furnace.
'This place is bloody hot,' complained Adam.
Gillian looked about.
The room was reasonably small and the walls were coated in mica, the use of which was not immediately evident until Gillian and Adam stepped forward and gazed into the gaping chasm that extended from one side of the room to the other.
'Lava ... it's lava,' said Adam.
'Well, the last of the six rooms was supposed to be the Hot House, so it makes sense that the builder utilised nature to its full extent. His only problem was keeping the heat in, so he used the only insulator known to them at the time ... mica.
'That's why the last room was cold,' said Adam.
'Yes, its insulation properties are excellent. Even today, it's still used in ovens for the same reason.'
'So, what's the purpose of this room?' asked Adam.
'Traditionally it was supposed to represent fire and heat, but in this instance, I'd take my guess at a deterrent or protection device.'
'Protect what?'
'That.' Gillian pointed to the camouflage indentation in the far wall. It was painted to match the mica and was almost indistinguishable with the exception of the lack of shine.
Adam gasped. 'I'd recognise that hexagonal shaped symbol anywhere. I lived with it for long enough.'
'Exactly, and for some reason, I'm not surprised to see it here. It was clearly connected, but to date we were unable to determine how.'
Gillian grinned as Adam patted his shoulder bag. 'Just checking that the disk is still there.'
She rolled her eyes and sighed in mock sarcasm. 'You and that bag. I don't think you'd even give it up for sex.'
'You haven't asked.' His comments were laced with seriousness which would have normally left her feeling uncomfortable, but not this time. Gillian gave him a quick peck on the cheek in response.
'Let's get over there and find out what it means,' she said.
'Unless I'm missing something, I can't see any bridge to cross.'
'Ahhh, but Kinix has thought of everything,' and with that Gillian pointed to the wall behind them.'
'Fifteen holes in the wall?'
'In the third manuscript, Kinix mentioned crossing over a lake of water to an island. He was required to place his fingers in five holes and press the internal levers. This in turn activated a series of stepping stones which gave access to the island.
'And you think this is the same thing?'
Gillian nodded, 'I do.'
'Well ... which holes?'
'That's the million dollar question. The only clue the manuscript gave was: "I used the secret code passed from priest to priest since the beginning of our time".'
'Why can't we just try them all?' said Adam.
'Apparently, placing your fingers in the wrong holes spelt instant death.'
'Mate!' Adam rubbed his forehead in deliberation. 'There's got to be something in it. What secret code would be passed from priest to priest since the beginning of time?'
Gillian shook her head and ran her fingers over the various symbols that were etched into the wall below the holes.
'They're the Mayan long count system' said Adam, looking at the carvings.
'Yes, and in no particular order.'
'Okay ... standing around is not assisting our cause, so let's think about this. The beginning of time in Mayan long count is represented in our time by "00000". This is consistent with the mention of five fingers in the manuscript,' said Gillian.
'So, what would it be in Mayan?'
'A zero in Mayan is a symbol that looks like an eye,' replied Gillian.
'And I can see five of those.'
'So, let's say we are right, then we need to place five fingers in the holes simultaneously.'
'And if we are wrong?' asked Sean.
'We will most likely be poisoned,' concluded Gillian.
'Excellent, and considering I am the chivalrous gentleman, I'll do it.'
Gillian went to argue, to discuss their deductions before continuing, but Adam didn't wait, plunging his fingers into the holes with the eye symbol before she could stop him.'
Gillian screamed and went to yank his fingers away, but it was too late. He was firmly imbedded in the wall and the look on his face was of total fear and extreme doubt.
For the second time in a matter of weeks, she was going to lose someone she cared about and her heart had gone into overdrive. Gillian began to panic until she noted the expression of terror slowly vanishing from Adam's face, replaced by the familiar lopsided grin and teasing twinkle in his eyes.
'Had you worried,' he said.
Gillian sighed in relief and allowed herself to relax. Nothing had happened and he was fine.
'Did you pull the levers?'
'Yes, and they moved as easily as if they were new which means that it must have worked.'
Adam removed his fingers and hurried to the edge of the chasm.
'Its working!' he yelled in absolute excitement as a fist slammed into the side of his face, dropping him violently to the ground.
Gillian gasped in shock and turned to see a dark-haired man swing for her with a gun in his hand. She was defenseless, unprepared and exhausted. Her body had lost any will to fight even though her brain screamed in defiance. She saw Adam unmoving on the ground and realised that there was no way she could save herself, let alone assist him. It was as good as over! She simply did not have the strength to form any type of rebellion and waited in disgust for the final knock to end it all.
It did not arrive.
Just as the large man moved to grab her, a familiar shape appeared from behind and fired a bullet directly into his temple. The resultant blood splattered across her front as he fell to the ground, landing only inches from Adam's crumpled body.
Gillian could not move as Samuel hurried to Adam's side.
Barely comprehending what had just happened, Gillian was not sure what shocked her the most. The sudden appearance of a murderer, facing her own mortality or that Samuel had saved her.
'How?' was all she managed to ask as Samuel rushed to Adam's side.
'I've been trailing Tomas for some time. He was my father's sharpshooter and even though my father is behind bars, his influence is still far reaching.'
'But ... Georgio and ...' Gillian did not finish her sentence before Samuel interrupted.
'They're fine. They had merely congregated away from the hole in order to formulate a plan to save you, allowing a small window of time for Michael to pass by unnoticed and abseil down the tunnel. I quickly followed.'
'Thankyou,' Gillian offered as Samuel simply nodded in reply.
Adam sat up a few moments later, rubbing his head and frowning when he caught sight of Samuel.
'Was this you?' Adam accused Samuel and pointed to the large lump on his head.
'No,' replied Gillian. 'Samuel saved us.' She gestured to the body of Tomas.
Adam glanced at the body, grimaced in pain and climbed to his feet. 'Thanks,' he muttered under his breath in Samuel's general direction before hurrying to the edge of the crevice.
During the altercation, a small but stable slab of rock had slid out from below their position and completely crossed the abyss. It had imbedded itself into a small slot on the opposite side.
No one wanted to go first, so Gillian looked at them in disgust, muttered the word 'wimps' and leapt onto the path. Within a few well-balanced and steady steps, she had made it to the other side assisted by a sudden rush of adrenaline. It had only just occurred to her that this adventure was almost over. That the secret they had been searching for was less than a few feet away. They were on the verge of a momentous discovery and she was excited.
'Come on,' she gestured and was soon joined by two equally enthusiastic men.
Adam gazed at the pattern in the wall in absolute trepidation. It was an identical imprint to the disk that he carried with him from his home in Australia, the one handed down to him by his grandparents and possibly his grandparents before that. He had no idea what this meant for him or even how his family had gained access to the treasure in the first place, but he had a distinct feeling he was going to find out.
'Come on, Adam,' Gillian urged as he reached in and pulled the disk from its box.
Samuel also looked on and in normal circumstances, he would have feared his inclusion, but his demeanour had changed considerably since he had declared himself Gillian's brother. Adam knew by his expression that it had been the truth and even though he still grappled with the dramatic turnaround from murderer to family relation, he had been convinced that Samuel meant no harm. If anything, he had proved himself by saving their lives on more than one occasion.
Adam turned to the task at hand and raised the glittering disk up to the wall. He aligned it with the imprint and pressed it firmly until it was securely imbedded in the plaster.
Nothing happened, so Adam looked to Gillian for advice.
'I can't see how this would have activated anything anyway. After all, its only plaster,' mused Gillian as Samuel interceded.
'I think we need to press harder!' and before they could protest, Samuel forced the disk inward with such power that the plaster began to crack.
'Not only have we ruined the wall, but you have also damaged the disk,' grumbled Adam, stopping midsentence as a reverberating click could be heard from behind the plaster.
This was followed by the sudden appearance of a centre block which projected out from the middle of the disk. It then rotated to the right before ejecting a further five posts which fastened to the fascia of the disk and drew it backwards into the damaged plaster. Within moments delicate, spider-like fissures developed into large fractures and the entire wall appeared in imminent danger of collapse.
It all happened so quickly that Gillian barely had time to scream 'run' as they jumped backwards, restricted by the gaping chasm behind them, leaving no choice but to bear the full weight of the plaster that rained down upon them.
'That's the second bloody time today,' cursed Adam as he wiped the powder from his face and clothes, stopping only when dust cloud cleared and they were able to see what stood between them and the promised treasure.
Adam gasped as did Gillian and Samuel.
The outer edges of the wall had remained untouched, providing a stark contrast to the elaborately carved centrepiece. In the tradition of the great Egyptian statues, two glorious life-size sculptures stood tall and proud! They were meticulously carved from stone and positioned inside two custom-designed, gold-coated niches. Each niche was arched and the entire fascia of the external wall was covered from top to bottom in Mayan hieroglyphics.
Adam moved toward the statues, noting that one to the left was female and the one to right was male. They were facing each other with their arms outstretched and within their grasp was Adam's disk.
'Wow! This is absolutely amazing. I haven't seen anything quite like this since my last trip to Egypt. It's quite evident that Kinix drew on his experience with Mshai to create this masterpiece!' said Gillian.
'Who do you think they are?' queried Adam.
Gillian laughed. 'Adam ... come on ... you should know. After spending so much time with me, it should have been immediately evident.'
Adam studied the figures. The male had an arrogance that was mixed with pride and authority. The woman was a gentle, delicate beauty dressed in an elaborate costume. They were clearly royalty, but it was the adoring expressions on their faces that gave away their identities.
He was Kinix and she was his Butterfly, Lady Tikal.
'Kinix and Lady Tikal,' said Adam as Gillian nodded.
'It is my guess that the two statues are guarding a joint treasure, something that was important to both of them, and these hieroglyphs seem to confirm my thoughts,' said Gillian as she ran her hand over the precise carvings.
'What do they say?' asked Samuel.
'There are three sentences,' replied Gillian as she translated them in the order in which they were illustrated:
"The real treasure depicted in this box belongs to my true heir. The one I cannot claim as my own although he is of my blood.
If the gods allow it, it is my hope to hold the one who looks so much like me.
My heart aches for those I do not have, but I can leave this for the ones born from my own"
'They are familiar,' concluded Adam.
'Yes. Each obsidian box we discovered had one of these phrases engraved on the inner lid.'
'It sounds as if this person had an illegal child,' laughed Samuel.
Gillian did not laugh and neither did Adam. What Samuel said made sense. It tied in perfectly with the last portion of Kinix's diary where he referred to his affair with Lady Tikal.
Kinix had a secret and this room held the truth.
Adam moved towards the disk that was now firmly embedded in the grasp of the two statues. 'Now what?' he asked more to himself than to receive an answer from Gillian.
'Twist it clockwise, Adam,' ordered Gillian.
'Are you sure?'
Gillian sighed. 'The disk is the key. Its insertion activated the projection of the centre bar and if you look closely, it is held by a rotating base. The hands of the statues are only supporting the outer shell and have nothing to do with the workings of the disk.'
Adam required no further prompting. He grabbed the disk and twisted it as far as he could. At first nothing happened, so Adam used his remaining strength and tried again. It moved gradually, almost an inch at a time until it seemingly locked into position and remained motionless for a moment whilst everyone drew their breath in anticipation.
They did not have to wait long as the disk quickly developed a life of its own. It began to spin, slowly at first but then quite quickly until it reached the required rotations and stopped. This action seemed to set off another mechanism behind the disk which made a series of clicks and loud scraping sounds.
Adam gasped, looking hurriedly for the reason behind the scraping noises until Samuel shouted.
'The statues! They're moving!'
Sure enough, both statues were sliding away from each other until they left a gap of a foot between themselves and the centrepiece containing Adam's disk.
Adam grasped Gillian's hand, neither of them able to move in anticipation. This was the pinnacle of their journey and they longed to savour every moment.
The centre wall slid slowly to its immediate left until it had reconnected with the female statue, leaving a gap of three feet on its right, a space just wide enough to walk through.
Adam looked at Gillian and Samuel, trying to determine who should go first.
'Gillian should be the one,' offered Samuel as Adam patted her gently on the shoulder in agreement. 'We will follow.'
With absolute trepidation, Adam took up the middle position and followed Gillian to the gap. With their torches blazing, they stepped inside.
Adam inhaled deeply. He was not sure what he was expecting, but this was certainly not it. His mind had been filled with imaginings of great treasure, of gold, jewels, statues and rare pottery, of a discovery equal in size to that of the Tomb of Tutankhamen. He had been anticipating this moment for a long time that he was extremely disappointed by the outcome.
Not so for Gillian, though.
The room was approximately fifteen feet square with every available space covered in elaborate paintings. The floor was made of intricate coloured tiles to represent all facets of the Mayan world, but it was not this that drew Gillian's attention.
She was standing over a small table that was positioned in the centre of the room. Adam hurried over to take a look.
'This room may not contain mounds of gold or jewels, but what we have here is far more important,' she said.
Adam gazed at the items on the table. There were six various sized obsidian boxes which Gillian had already opened. One contained a giant red ruby which he recognised as the jewel given to Kinix by Bahlum Paw Skull on his deathbed. Four of the smallest boxes held a tiny obsidian container sealed by tree sap in a bed of jaguar fur and the largest box revealed another diary.
Adam looked to Gillian for answers and it took a moment before she spoke.
'The four obsidian containers hold the life flow of the people whose names are inscribed on the lid. That would be Bahlum Paw Skull, Lady Tikal, Kinix and Bird Claw. As we know the Mayan ch'ulel or life flow is actually human blood. To the Mayans, this was the most important substance of them all and to Kinix it was his connection to his family. My only question relates to the last one which I presume was his child, but I would imagine that his diary will clarify that. However, what fascinates me the most is this diary. If you look at the cover, it is quite significantly different to the previous three with the most distinguishable feature being the perfect rendition of your Mayan disk,' said Gillian, referring to the disk Adam had used to open the small room. 'There is an unusual sentence below the picture in Medieval Latin that has taken me by surprise.'
Adam and Samuel looked over her shoulder and shook their heads.
'Well, you'll have to translate,' said Adam as Gillian began to read:
"To the child of my child, this book contains the teachings of our people and the place where my family has met the gods. It is meant for you only, for you were the one entrusted with my key. My true blood!"
'So, what does this mean?' asked Samuel as Gillian laughed.
'Adam will tell you. He has uncovered enough Kinix riddles to comprehend what it means.' she said.
Adam felt faint and overwhelmed. The meaning was almost too much for him to come to terms with.
'Kinix is telling us that he has left this book for his direct descendant, "the child of my child". It contains his and his family's final resting place and the answers to many Mayan mysteries.'
'So, the possibility of a tomb full of treasures still remains?' asked Samuel.
Adam nodded in confirmation as he continued:
"The child of my child is to be recognised as the one who has the key which is represented on the front of this book."
Gillian looked at Adam. 'Do you know how the disk arrived in your family?'
Adam shook his head. 'I was told that it was a family heirloom, passed down through the eldest child for many centuries.'
'So, you could be Kinix's direct descendant,' blurted Samuel as Adam nodded.
'It seems to be.'
'The only way we can find out it is to perform a DNA match,' suggested Gillian.
'And how do we do that?' said Samuel as Gillian frowned in disgust.
'We have four vials of blood which we can compare to Adam's.'
Samuel laughed. 'The irony of it all. My father groomed me to be a Mayan prince, yet here I am in the company of a real one.'
Adam did not reply. It was all a little too much for him at the moment. He really needed a warm shower and a comfortable bed.
'Come on, let's get out of here,' said Gillian as she placed the obsidian containers in her bag and passed the book to Adam. 'This is yours.'
Adam smiled and took hold of his treasure. It was Gillian's as much as his.
He gave her a gentle kiss which she happily returned.
Two weeks had passed since Gillian, Adam and Samuel were pulled to the surface, dirty and bleeding but victorious after battling the trials of Xibalba.
Their rescue was received with great joy although Samuel was the beneficiary of scepticism. His past actions bred doubt and it took some convincing for everyone to believe that he had saved Gillian and Adam from an assassin without having his own agenda. Thankfully they were eventually persuaded, but the tension between Samuel, Georgio and Dale increased with each passing day.
Samuel also had trouble coping with the expectations placed on him to conform to the requirements of normal day-to-day living and he often reverted back to old habits to escape his confronting emotions.
Quite frequently Gillian caught him burning his blood to please the gods which often placed her on the wrong side of his explosive temper. Unfortunately this also put considerable pressure on their already tenuous relationship.
The other issue surrounding Samuel was the possibility that he would be called to testify against his father, the stress of which would undoubtedly ruin all of the progress he had made.
The only thing in their favour was that his survival remained a secret, so it was for this reason that they decided it best to reunite him with the remaining community in Tajumulco.
Samuel was delighted, but his departure was bittersweet. On one hand, Gillian was adapting to his company and felt a slight stirring of sadness, but on the other hand it removed the reminder to the one topic they all avoided -- their mother!
Gillian knew who she was, but Samuel had not come in contact with Reynata to confirm her suspicions, although this suited Gillian.
She was not ready to confront the many issues surrounding the subject. There were simply too many questions which she feared, if answered, would open a can of worms and cause an irreparable rift between herself and her beloved father. There was no way that Gillian would accept anything that may compromise her feelings for him. To his credit, Dale had tried to bring up the subject on a number of occasions, but Gillian simply told him the same thing: 'Now is not the time.' She would deal with the issue when she was ready although she felt the time would come sooner rather than later.
Her father had feelings for Reynata and unless she wished to stand in the way of his happiness, she could not avoid the problem forever.
Imagine dinner parties together. She was at one end and Reynata at the other, not talking to each other. It would be incredibly uncomfortable for all concerned and it would be her fault.
Gillian sighed loudly and Adam laughed.
'Family problems?'
She nodded.
'I've had them for years,' replied Adam.
'And it seems as if you are going to have new ones. What will you do if these DNA tests prove you are the descendant of Kinix. It will mean that your father is also a relative.'
Adam squirmed. 'Gees. My parents will think they are a king and queen for real. I couldn't stand it.'
'You don't have to tell them, you know.'
Adam looked relieved. 'I suppose not. The sale of the ruby will ensure our financial independence and the disk was mine. My grandfather willed it to me, not my father.'
'Well!' Gillian waved the envelope in his face.
'Okay, open it.' Adam clenched his teeth and pretended not to look.
Gillian ripped open the envelope and read the results. She did not speak for a few seconds.
'The suspense is killing me,' murmured Adam as he continued to place his hands over his eyes.
Gillian kissed him on the lips. 'Well ... it seems I have my prince at last.'
'That was bloody corny,' replied Adam as he checked her expression for any hint of a lie. There was none.
'Bloody hell. It's true, then. I am Kinix's ancestor.'
'Seems to be,' laughed Gillian in delight as Adam whooped loudly, jumped up and down and threw cushions up in the air.
'Ninety-nine point nine, nine per cent sure,' she added.
'And to think that a couple of months ago, I could not even pay the bill to repair my car.'
'The ruby will set you up, but Kinix has clearly alluded to the fact that details of his burial site are in this book,' said Gillian.
'Which will mean further mysteries and treasure hunting,' added Adam as Gillian grinned like a Cheshire cat.
'Looks like you'll be staying with me for a while.'
Adam nodded and handed Gillian the last instalment of Kinix's diary.
'Well, what are we waiting for? Let's read the last part of his diary and perhaps we will have something of importance to give to the President,' suggested Adam.
'If Richard doesn't get his hands on it first,' said Gillian in mock annoyance.
'He's been nagging to have a look at this diary since the repairs on his house have been completed. It's as if he has nothing better to do,' added Adam fondly as Gillian opened the first page.
Manuscript part 5
The birth of my son should have been the highlight of my life, but it was one of my saddest. He bore my spirit but not my name and only Yok Chac understood my pain. Every moment I saw Kaloomte celebrate his good fortune and show my son to the people, I felt as if my ch'ulel was being sucked from my body. It was a pain that far exceeded anything I thought possible. Not pain of the body but pain of the mind. Little helped me with clear evidence of ha uay manifesting itself in my body. I attempted to take powerful medicines to help ease this pul yah but even this did not work and Yok Chac was becoming desperate.
He urged me to take some time for myself, to seek some direction away from the chores of my daily routine and gain perspective on the turmoils of my life.
I knew he was right. As my dearest friend, Yok Chac was far more intuitive of my needs than I, so I agreed to his proposal.
I was to spend seven kin on my own, drinking the liquor of the gods. This would allow me to speak to them and seek their ultimate wisdom. Only the gods could set me on the path to enlightenment.
The following morning, I moved myself to the cave in the hills behind Tikal that were reserved for the sole use of the priests and their immediate brotherhood. I located a small, dark and exceeding private area with a ready access to running water and a chultune in which I was able to store the liquid and food for the length of my incarceration. I began my journey immediately and proceeded to mix a blend of campanillas (mushrooms), tobacco and toad skin which I administered into my anus. I was expecting to be able to connect with my beloved Bahlum Paw Skull shortly and admitted to feeling a great deal of reservation. Would he be happy to talk to me? Would he approve of the path I had taken? Would he be pleased that I had given him a grandchild of his own blood?
I was frightened to find out.
With a heavy heart, I pierced my earlobes to allow a greater opening in which to hear the voices of the gods and my beloved Bahlum Paw Skull, knowing that I would be in no position to continue with my writing until this was over.
Fear gave way to a new level of clarification which allowed me understand my purpose as a priest and a human. The gods were kind to me, forgiving my every discretion and understanding the love for my Butterfly. Bahlum Paw Skull applauded the birth of our child and the deprivation of a human heir for Kaloomte, citing that it was a blessing that his evil seed was not spread throughout the human world. It also meant that no future king on their ascension could grant approval for his accompaniment, freeing my king from threat. They were pleased with me but also installed an understanding of the Mayan future.
The gods told me that my children's children would see a great change. Food and trade would become scarce and one who represents a god will visit our land. Unfortunately our people in their innocence would fall for the traitorous ones who would take advantage of their good nature. Combined with the lack of food and murderous slaughter, our people would flounder and disappear, a revelation that brought me to tears. I cried for an entire kin before I was forced to pull myself together. I could hear the gods whispering angrily to me, telling me not to be weak in a time of need. I apologised and listened to their requirements.
The gods and my beloved King ordered me to compose a 'book of learning', a compilation of all we have learnt, our medicine, our understanding of time and space, how we came to be, our first city and the purpose of the original pyramids and lastly, the greatness of my King. Bahlum also commanded that these secrets only be passed to one of his own blood and it was my duty to ensure this would happen.
I must come up with a plan, but I was exhausted and my brain failed me.
One kin passed before I was able to gain enough strength to walk out without aid. Although water and food was in abundance, my state of observation and reflection had caused me to forget the nourishment of my body. I was weak, tired and too overwhelmed to contemplate the mammoth task bestowed upon me by the gods until Yok Chac took it upon himself to bring me back to health. It was also Yok Chac who forced me to formulate a plan to bring the gods' strategy to fulfillment.
He was determined and angry at my lack of motivation, reminding me that I had spent my entire life exceeding expectations. I had become the chief confidant of Bahlum, I was a renowned healer and reader of the stars and above all, I was a trusted friend. Now was not the time to give up, especially as our greatest task was to hand.
I agreed, chastising myself for temporary weakness. If for no other reason, I owed it to Yok Chac and the children of my child, especially my beloved Bird Claw who I had only seen a few times since his birth. My eyes lowered in contemplation and sadness which Yok Chac picked up on immediately.
'Lady Tikal loves you as much as you love her. The child was born of love and for that you should be grateful. I personally had not had as much luck in my life.'
'You have a woman and a child of your own, my friend.'
'It was not true love for me, Kinix. It was simply old age causing me to fear leaving this human world without having a family.'
'But you adore the child.'
'That is true, although my woman can have no more.'
'It is a shame the birth was so difficult.'
'Yes, which brings me to another topic. Kaloomte would soon become suspicious of there being no more children.'
'I understand, but I fear that spending time with her will only make it much more difficult when I depart. I long to be with her always!'
'Then we will need to make that happen.'
I looked at Yok Chac with curiosity but did not seek clarification to his statement. This was my fervent wish and I dared not allow myself the possibility that this may happen.
Three cycles of the haab had passed before I had completed the 'book of learning' and despite the time it took, I was proud of my efforts. It was detailed and meticulous, drawing upon memories of our entire people.
During this period, both Yok Chac and I had also commenced planning the secrets required to keep this precious book away from the hands of those for whom it was not intended. We spent so many hours together that our relationship reached a new level of understanding and he was closer to me than a blood brother. Other than my love for Lady Tikal, Yok Chac's friendship was the most important thing in my life.
The ensuing five cycles of the haab brought about two more children with my Butterfly and despite our forced separation, she allowed me visits with the children, accessed through the covert passageway to the palace. I treasured these times and took solace in the fact that Kaloomte was rapidly growing old with an illness we could not diagnose. I long suspected that Yok Chac was giving him a potion but chose never to question his integrity. It was a convenient silence on my part. If I did not ask the questions, I would not get unwanted answers.
We had also commenced the building of the various traps made to keep the book safe and it was near the completion of these works that Kaloomte died and I unashamedly celebrated. I had achieved everything I desired. The gods' requests were nearly completed, I had my friend Yok Chac and now I will have Lady Tikal and my children. My life was complete.
\*\*\*
Adam looked up in concern. 'The style of writing has changed in this next section.'
Gillian frowned. 'This part was not written by Kinix.'
Manuscript part 6
I, Yok Chac, have just passed my dear friend Kinix to the gods. Just upon the pinnacle of his life, he suffered a tragic accident that released his ch'ulel and left his body empty. My grief is without words and I cannot determine how I will go on ... but I must.
He used his final breath to make me promise that I will bury him with the 'book of learning' and deliver his three paintings and ornamental Calendar Round to his first and most beloved child, Bird Claw. It is these four items that must be entrusted to the eldest child of each generation and only used if the Mayan way fails.
For me this is the end. With Kinix went my love of life and I have little left other than my own child and to ensure Kinix's family is raised as he would like. I have pledged an oath to the gods and to Kinix to care for them until my own time comes and I will not fail in my duty.
Kinix was a wise man with such a great passion for living and learning that I can only hope the one reading this will share those same characteristics. To be the child of Kinix's children is indeed a great honour and to be bestowed with his legacy is a privilege. I hope that whoever you may be, you take care of these precious secrets and do him justice.
My final duty for my friend is to give you his resting place which is located in his place of peace and reflection.
\*\*\*
Gillian sat in silence for a moment and stared at the document in deliberation.
'So, any ideas?' asked Adam as Gillian replied with a grin.
'Of course. Despite his complex nature, Kinix was a simple man at heart. His early years and most of his later life were spent at his home in his garden. It was the place he felt most at peace.'
'Do you think he was buried there?' asked Adam.
'I'm sure of it,' said Gillian.
Adam sighed. 'Does this mean another call to the President to obtain the authority to dig in the national park?'
'Yes, but we are not in a hurry. We have a wedding to attend to first and Richard would kill us if we didn't wait for him.'
Adam laughed. 'Well, it looks like we've got time to spare.'
'Well, my prince ... what shall we do?'
Adam did not require any further propositioning. He pulled her to him and kissed her properly for the first time, savouring every moment and counting his blessings. What an adventure his life had become and he had so much to look forward to. Discovering his legacy with Gillian and his new found friends was only just the beginning.
\*\*\*
Thankyou for taking the time to read this novel. Your support is appreciated. If you would like to know more about me or have a question you can contact me through my Smashwords page http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SueGuillou or
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