Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “What about an elf?” said Douglas. “He’d make a good elf. I have a green shirt like the cotton one he can borrow and I’ve got a long blond wig and a leaf crown.”

  Abe clapped his hands.

  Marco’s eyes shifted around the room. “What?” he said.

  Stan reached into his box. “And I’ve got eyeliner.”

  Abe clapped some more and jumped up and down. “Please, please, please!” he cried. “I’ll buy you a brand new sword, Stan, if you can get my Angel in eyeliner!”

  Marco glared at Jake and found the idiot smirking madly. “You are so dead, Ryder!” he growled under his breath.

  CHAPTER 15

  Rosa crossed one leg over the other and bounced her foot up and down. Staring out the bus window, she watched the jungle go by, a wild tangle of green. With CSIs and both Mexican and American federal agents making the trek to the Mayan ruins, Vega had thought it was best to take a small AFI bus. At least it had air conditioning.

  Once they left the coast, the vista had become a wash of trees and vines and thick green undergrowth. Since they’d been in Cancun, they’d experienced a number of quick thunderstorms. The sky would darken and the clouds would burst, pounding down a flash of rain, then dissipating, becoming sunny again.

  As she stared out the window, she saw huts and people moving back and forth through the jungle – little outcroppings of civilization cut from the dense vegetation. Occasionally she saw children waving at the bus as it went past.

  Sitting in the bench seat before her was Vega. Bass occupied the seat directly to their right. She leaned forward and tapped Vega’s shoulder, wanting anything to keep her mind off what they were going to find in Chichen Itza.

  “Federico?”

  “Sí, hermosa?”

  “Have you lived in Quintana Roo your whole life?”

  “Ah, sí, I was born and raised here. I went to universidad at Instituto Politécnico Nacional en Ciudad de México.”

  “Mexico City?”

  “Sí.”

  “Then you came home?”

  “Sí, to work in the policía, no?”

  She nodded.

  He shifted in the seat and looked at her. “Tu familia? Son Mexicano?”

  “Yes, my grandparents on my mother’s side came from Guadalajara. My father’s family lived in Mexico City. My parents met in Nogales, Arizona.”

  “Ah, sí. No habla Espanol?”

  “No, they wanted their kids to be fluent in English.”

  “This work for the FBI? You trabaja allí mucho tiempo?”

  She glanced at Bass.

  “You work for the FBI a long time?” he translated.

  She nodded in understanding. “No, I worked with Bass and Miller at the DEA most of my career.”

  Vega gave her a sad smile, patting her hand as it rested on the back of his seat. “This must be muy difícil, no?”

  Rosa leaned back in her seat and stared out the window. “Yeah.” She glanced at Bass and he gave her a solemn nod. “Muy difícil.”

  They arrived in a dirt parking lot and piled out of the bus. The oppressive sticky heat settled over them and Rosa felt like it was difficult to breath. Radar immediately removed his sunglasses from his pocket and put them over his eyes. She pulled the pair on top of her head down and rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt. She’d changed into a white long-sleeved shirt and black trousers, but she just couldn’t put on the jacket. Everyone else had done the same thing, their badges affixed to their belts. Rosa could already feel a pepper of sweat beginning to bead under her gun’s shoulder harness.

  A man in khaki shirts and shorts approached Vega and Bass, speaking to them in Spanish. A number of tour buses sat in the parking lot, their engines running, filled with tourists who were not being allowed to disembark.

  Rosa tried to understand what the man was telling the agents, but he spoke rapidly and gesticulated wildly. Vega nodded and asked questions in return. Moving over to Radar, she nodded at the man.

  “What’s he saying?”

  “Miller’s body is in the temple of Kukulcan at the top of El Castillo. We have to climb the pyramid to see it. They’re planning to take him out by helicopter as soon as we’ve collected our evidence.”

  “Helicopter?”

  “A rescue basket.”

  She shuddered. “Is the site closed to tourists?” She pointed at the filled buses.

  “Now it is. As soon as the tourist spotted the blood, they evacuated the site. Some of the buses arrived today, but they’ve not been allowed to disembark. As far as the temple goes, no one’s been allowed to climb the pyramid for years, which is why…” He caught himself, bracing his hands on his hips.

  “Which is why no one discovered Miller’s body?”

  “Right.”

  “How did his body get inside the temple?”

  Radar shrugged. “That’s a good question.”

  Tank moved up beside them, Bambi and Peyton a step behind. “In 1972, the Mexican government put all pre-Columbian monuments, like Chichen Itza, under federal ownership. The INAH closed the temple of Kukulcan in 2006 to tourists when a woman fell to her death. Now tourists can only walk around it. The site has an armed guard at night, but something must have failed in their security.”

  “The INAH?” asked Rosa.

  Tank nodded at the man in khaki. “The National Institute of Anthropology and History.”

  Vega and Bass motioned the man over to the Ghost squad. He was middle aged with strands of grey in his black hair. He had a moustache, no beard, and large dark eyes.

  “Agents, this is Manuel Ramos. He is a…how you say…arqueólogo?” said Vega.

  “Archeologist,” said Bass.

  “Sí, archeologist with INAH. He will show us to escena del crimen.”

  “The crime scene,” said Bass.

  Ramos offered his hand to each of them in turn, bowing a little. “Bienvenidos, bienvenidos.”

  “Bienvenidos,” said the team as they each shook his hand.

  “Ven conmigo,” he said, motioning to a pathway between two piles of dirt.

  Bass and Vega fell into step behind him with the Ghost squad trailing at their backs. The CSI team Vega had assembled brought up the rear. As they passed a public bathroom and another outbuilding that read Oficina de la Arqueología, they entered a dense jungle with trees draped with vines. A few feet beyond that and Chichen Itza opened up before them.

  Stone buildings in various states of collapse rose out of the cleared jungle, towering far over their heads. Rosa stared up, feeling the weight of ages pressing on her as she studied the buildings. The brown stones enclosed derelict courtyards or dark rooms where bats fluttered by in the shadows. As she stared into the buildings, she could almost imagine people working and playing, carrying on their daily lives just as the modern world did in its cities.

  She glanced at her companions and saw the same sense of wonder and awe etched on their faces as they stared around them, marking intricate carvings in the sides of buildings. She paused and studied a round circle with a skull carved into it, the forked tongue of a snake slithering out of its mouth.

  And then they stood before El Castillo, the massive stone pyramid rising in the midst of this Mayan city, an emblem of time immemorial. Vega muttered a prayer and crossed himself. Rosa swallowed hard, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was viewing.

  The pyramid consisted of nine square terraces of stone with a steep staircase bisecting the front of it. At the base of the balustrades were the carved heads of stone serpents. At the top of the pyramid was a small stone structure with open doorways leading into the temple.

  “Kukulcan, the feathered serpent deity,” whispered Tank. “During the equinoxes, as the sun fades, people say a serpent wriggles down the staircase, giving the temple its name.”

  Ramos turned to them, pointing at the pyramid, and let flow a string of Spanish.

  “Manuel says that the Mexican government ordered the excavación of El C
astillo in the 1930’s,” said Vega. “Inside they found una pirámide más antigua.” He motioned to Bass.

  “An older pyramid, smaller.”

  Ramos continued in Spanish.

  “Inside the temple chamber or the throne room they found the famous Chac Mool statue, I’m sure you’ve seen it, and the red Jaguar throne,” Bass translated.

  Ramos turned and pointed northwest, continuing his recitation.

  “In that direction is the Great Ball Court, where it’s assumed the Mayans played sporting games, and to the east is the Temple of the Jaguar, which also has the feathered serpent motif.”

  Ramos continued. Bass listened, then shifted weight, glancing up at El Castillo.

  “What?” asked Rosa.

  Bass chewed on his bottom lip and didn’t immediately answer.

  Radar turned to her. “The archeologist says the carved frescos on the ball court depict a decapitated head with snakes coming out of the neck like blood. The history of the Mayas is a violent one and Miller’s death is symbolic.”

  “Symbolic?” said Rosa, unable to keep the edge from her voice.

  Tank sighed. “He was sacrificed in the temple of Kukulcan as Mayan captives of old were.”

  “Let’s get on with this,” said Rosa, moving forward. Enough history lesson.

  Peyton caught her arm, turning her around so her back was to El Castillo. “I don’t think you should go.”

  “What?” Rosa planted her hands on her hips. A trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts and she felt her aggravation rising. While they were standing out here getting a damn history lesson, Miller’s body was rotting in that temple.

  “It’s too hard, Rosa. He was your partner.”

  Rosa narrowed her eyes behind her sunglasses. “I can handle it, Brooks.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you can.”

  “I have to identify the body.”

  Peyton shook her head. “No, you don’t. I can, I’ve met him, or Bass can, but you don’t.” She stepped closer to her, clasping her at the elbows. “He was family, Rosa. Don’t let your last memory of him be this.”

  Rosa looked away.

  “She’s right, Sarge,” said Radar. “You don’t need to do this.”

  She glanced up into Bass’s grim features. He gave a slight nod. “Fine,” she said, tugging out of Peyton’s hold. “Just get it over with and get him out of there. I can’t stand thinking of him lying there like this.”

  Peyton nodded. “We will.”

  Rosa didn’t turn around as they walked beyond her, headed toward El Castillo, but a shiver of premonition raced up her spine. The history of the Mayas is a violent one and Miller’s death is symbolic. It seemed pretty obvious that Miller’s death was a warning. She jumped as a flurry of wings flapped in the dark interior of the ruin directly in front of her.

  * * *

  The CSIs headed for the temple and began the treacherous climb, their gear packed in backpacks slung over their shoulders. They made a straight line and grabbed a hold of the chain running from the top of the pyramid to the bottom, affixed in a stone block at its base. Peyton paused next to Bambi, staring up at the pyramid, trying to take it all in.

  The moment they’d walked out of the jungle into the clearing, she’d felt a frisson of energy race over her, peppering her skin like goose bumps. She’d never felt time the way she did right now, pressing in on all sides. If she hadn’t believed in ghosts before, she did now. She could feel the indelible imprint of a civilization far more ancient than her own, but still a people who went about their daily chores, preparing food, raising children, building monuments…and worshipping at those monuments, praying for their families to have health and happiness.

  From an engineering standpoint, it was mind-boggling – the massive pyramid set enormous stone upon stone until it towered over the jungle, cowing it. The frescos and carvings and intricate designs crafted by artisans for no other purpose than to record their lives, their passage, their presence. These were a people who wanted to be remembered, who built monuments to their existence, who drove back the encroaching jungle to say we’re here. We lived, we loved, we conquered.

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “It’s daunting, isn’t it?” said Bambi in a strange voice, her eyes fixed on the pyramid. “It’s numbing.”

  Peyton looked at her. Her pupils were dilated and she was breathing rapidly, watching the crew slowly pick their way up the massive steps, clinging to the chain as if it would prevent them from falling to their death.

  “Are you okay?”

  Bambi nodded, once, sharply, but she didn’t remove her eyes from the temple.

  Peyton turned toward her and touched her arm. She jumped, her eyes flashing to Peyton’s face. “Stay here with Sarge.”

  Shame touched color in Bambi’s cheeks and she swallowed hard. “I should go.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. You should stay here with Sarge. She needs someone right now.”

  Bambi glanced over her shoulder at Rosa, where she watched the progress up the face of the pyramid. “This is stupid. I can conquer this,” Bambi whispered to Peyton. “I should conquer this. I hate weakness.”

  “This isn’t weakness, Emma. We all have our things. My heart’s pounding about out of my chest when I think of what’s waiting for us up there.”

  “Which is why I should be with you.” Bambi clutched Peyton’s hand in both her own.

  “Radar and Tank will be there and Bass can identify the body. I’ll just provide a secondary identification. It’ll be fine.” She squeezed Bambi’s hand. “Stay here with Sarge, please.”

  “I hate that I’m afraid to climb it.”

  Peyton smiled at her. “Are you kidding me? That just made you more interesting.” She leaned closer to her. “Perfect people are boring.”

  Bambi’s lips trembled, but she smiled. “Okay. Go. Radar’s gonna yell at you for being the last one up there.”

  Peyton released Bambi and waved her comment away. “I’ll beat Radar to the top every day and twice on Sunday. Just watch me.” She started to turn toward the pyramid, but Bambi called her back around.

  “Be safe, Peyton,” she said.

  Peyton nodded, then jogged to catch up to the others. Grabbing the warm, dusty chain in her hands, she started climbing. The stairs were not built for human feet. The tread was too short, her heel hung off the back, and the risers were too high. She didn’t even want to think how hard it must be for someone as large as Tank, and she wouldn’t let herself remember that she had to come down again.

  She went as quickly as she could to catch up to Radar and Tank. As she moved to Radar’s right side, he gave her a glare from behind his sunglasses. “Nice of you to join us, Sparky,” he grumbled. He wasn’t even breathing hard, although a sheen of perspiration shown on his forehead.

  “I figured I had a few minutes to take in the sights, old man. You’ll be out here by the time night falls again.”

  Tank gave her a quick smile, then focused on his climb again.

  “Good lord, the Mayans had tiny feet. They needed OSHA to oversee things,” she said, pulling herself up another stair.

  Above them, Vega laughed, nudging Bass with his hand. “OSHA? Sí, I have heard of your OSHA here. Where is the rampas para, uh…” He motioned with his fingers pressed together. “The wheelchair, sí?”

  “Sí,” said Bass, nodding, but his expression was grave.

  Vega laughed again, pointing down at Peyton. “Eres divertido.”

  Peyton nudged Radar with her shoulder. “You hear that?”

  “No,” he said, not looking up.

  “Yes, you did. He said I was funny.”

  “No, clearly he said estas loco.”

  Tank barked out a laugh.

  Peyton pushed him in the back. “Oh, now you speak Spanish, eh?”

  Tank laughed again, but didn’t comment.

  “Where’s Bambi?” asked Radar.

  “She�
�s staying with Sarge.”

  Radar paused on the next step, bracing his forearm on his thigh. Peyton felt the climb burning in her own muscles and the humidity was making her feel lightheaded. Wouldn’t do good to get lightheaded at this height. She glanced down behind her, but Radar grabbed her shoulder and forced her back around.

  “Don’t look down.”

  She stared at the steps again. He was right.

  “Bambi’s afraid of heights,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “So? She had to have some sort of flaw.”

  Radar gave Peyton a speculative look. “You certainly have become her cheerleader all of a sudden.”

  She shrugged. “Emma saved my life.”

  “I’ve saved your life and all I get is grief.”

  “You get what you sow or something like that.”

  “For whatever one sows, that will he also reap. Galatians 6:7,” said Tank.

  Peyton felt a chill shiver over her. Those who seek the truth run the risk of finding it.

  After a brief rest, they started climbing again. Peyton didn’t look at her watch, but she estimated it took about three minutes for all of them to make it to the top of the pyramid. Just before she climbed up the last step, Radar stopped her. The CSIs were unpacking their gear, Vega was talking into his radio, and Bass had stopped, bent over, his hands braced on his thighs, trying to get his breath back.

  Radar was winded now and sweat glistened on his face and throat as he faced Peyton. She struggled to get air herself. Fanning her shirt away from her body, she wished a breeze would blow through the jungle, but the air remained oppressive.

  “Wait here until I call you,” Radar said. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded. She knew he wanted to investigate first and prepare her for what she was going to see before she got in there. Her eyes strayed toward the temple and she could see the dried blood, appearing black in the heat of the day, staining the top stair and down the riser.

  Tank placed a hand on her shoulder, then he turned and followed the CSIs into the temple. Vega nudged Bass with his hand and pointed toward the temple, but Bass glanced back at her for a moment before he followed.

  “Wait here until I call you, Sparky. Got it,” warned Radar again.