‘Of course, Eminence. Of course.’ Felici maintained a neutral expression, but he felt a surge of satisfaction that his plans were falling neatly into place.
‘Good. Then I will give Nogara’s proposal careful consideration.’ Pacelli closed the file on Nogara and reached for the one marked Maya.
10
TIKAL, GUATEMALA
Levi Weizman struggled over the last of the broken steps that led to the small stone room at the top of Pyramid V. Breathing hard, he turned to survey the jungle below. A wind had sprung up, stirring the jungle canopy, and the moonlight danced eerily on the thick foliage. Levi reached into his satchel and took out a measuring tape. It took only a few moments to take the measurements of the small opening at the top of the pyramid, and Levi quickly worked out the ratio of height to width in his head.
One to 1.618. Levi whistled softly. The small room on top of Pyramid V had been constructed with the sacred ratio of the golden mean. Levi took out his compass. The tops of Pyramids I and IV were silhouetted, like shards of obsidian reaching for the centre of the Milky Way. Look for the centre, Levi thought. The middle of Pyramid I produced a bearing of 15° 30’, while the middle of Pyramid IV revealed a bearing of 352°, or 8° west of north. Would the crystals in the figurines reproduce those bearings at the winter solstice? Levi turned. As best he could judge, both bearings would intersect on the far wall of the room behind the opening. Levi took his measuring tape and calculated half the ratio distances on the wall. He played his torch over the masonry and his heart began to race.
It had faded over the centuries, but he could just make out the faint outline of the letter phi on a large brick in the centre. Levi took a small pick from his satchel and began to scrape at the sascab, the mortar the ingenious Maya made from crushed and burnt limestone. At first the mortar came away fairly easily, but as Levi reached areas that had not been subjected to the dampness of the air, the resistance increased. He took a finer pick, and a few minutes later it penetrated what appeared to be a cavity behind the stone. Look for the centre. He’d found a similar cavity in Pyramid IV, but that one had been empty. Now he knew why. It had contained another figurine until the shaman and the elders removed it for safekeeping. The brick began to wobble and Levi carefully inserted another pick and pried it loose.
The stubby rectangular figurine had lain there for centuries, just as the ancients had planned. A milky-green ceiba tree carved from exquisite jade, it was almost identical to the one Levi had brought back to Vienna, except there were both male and female jaguars etched among the buttress roots at the base. The presence of both male and female cats balanced the figurine, Levi reflected, so this was surely the neutral one. Now, if he could only find the female figurine that represented the lost feminine … the final balance for a world that was now dominated by males.
Even though 2012 was still more than seventy years away, perhaps the world needed the time to prepare, or to attempt to reverse whatever catastrophe the Maya were predicting in the codex. The Meso-American jade glinted softly and Levi held it up to catch the moonlight in the crystal. He could see the ancient artisans had again carved a hole through the ceiba tree roots in the shape of Φ.
‘So, what have you discovered so late at night, Herr Professor?’ Von Heißen appeared in the narrow doorway, his Luger pistol cocked and pointing straight at Levi. ‘Ah, the figurine. How very interesting. May I take it?’
Levi reluctantly handed over the priceless artefact.
Von Heißen pointed the pistol at Levi’s head. Levi could smell the whisky on the Nazi’s breath and he could feel his own heart pounding against his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm.
‘If you were not to return from this mission, Professor Weizman, it would be just another unfortunate accident.’
‘Perhaps. On the other hand, a pistol shot will not go unnoticed in the jungle, and, more importantly, Reichsführer Himmler will be less than pleased if you return with the figurine without knowing its significance for the master race.’
‘So what does it mean?’ von Heißen demanded.
‘I would suggest you put that thing away. I will report back to you once I’ve analysed the figurine tomorrow.’
The SS guard outside the tent lit a cigarette, but Levi was oblivious to his presence. He’d been studying the figurine all day, but still couldn’t believe it. Levi focused his magnifying glass on the hieroglyph beneath the sculpture of the jaguars. The date was unmistakeable: 21 December 2012. The two hieroglyphs next to it were equally clear, designations for ‘winter solstice’ and ‘annihilation’, but it was the next hieroglyph that took his breath away. Levi knew that the series of sawtooth markings were the Mayan designation for immeasurably powerful electromagnetic energy, and the markings pointed towards another hieroglyph that represented the stargate at the centre of the galaxy. Running on adrenalin, he put down his magnifying glass and gently moved the figurine back into the centre of his small collapsible table. Pacal had confirmed that the third, female figurine would be critical to locating the missing codex, the one item that Levi was increasingly convinced would hold the key to surviving 2012. But even if he was successful in finding the other figurine, the Nazis now had control.
The barking of the howler monkeys and the chirrup of the crickets, the sounds of the Tikal jungle at dusk, were already being drowned out by the singing coming from the mess tent at the end of the airfield. Someone had put on a recording of a brass band playing German drinking songs. Levi sighed. He was feeling tired and dejected, and he knew that after dinner he would have to brief von Heißen on his findings. He deeply missed Ramona’s calm and gentle counsel, and he missed her touch even more. As important as the hidden Maya Codex might be for humankind, Levi wanted nothing more than to be back in Vienna. The way he felt right now, he could happily leave the discovery of the codex to another archaeologist.
‘So, Herr Professor. What are we to learn from this discovery, hmm?’ Von Heißen blew some imaginary smoke from the barrel of his Luger and put it back on the table alongside a half-empty bottle of Glenfiddich.
Levi struggled to hide his contempt. The Nazi was even more drunk than usual.
‘As you can see, the figurine is in the shape of a ceiba tree, which to the ancient Maya was revered as the sacred tree of life. If you want an analogy, the Aryans who swept down from the north of Afghanistan about 3500 years ago to occupy the Indus Valley considered the birch tree in a similar vein. There is a parallel here.’
‘Reichsführer Himmler will be delighted,’ von Heißen slurred. ‘Perhaps you have your uses after all, Herr Professor.’
Levi said nothing, knowing his analogy was absolutely baseless.
‘I’m curious, though, as to how you knew exactly where to look.’
‘I’ve been looking for artefacts for a long time, Sturmbannführer. Very occasionally, you get lucky and find a loose stone, and, even more rarely, you discover a set of steps that will reveal a hidden tomb.’
Von Heißen refilled his metal tumbler. ‘Then you’d be well advised to make your occasional discoveries in the daylight, Herr Professor, when we can all share them.’ He glanced over Levi’s shoulder. Levi turned to find the beautiful young Itzel standing nervously in the opening of the tent flap.
‘Brunnen! Was haben wir hier?’ von Heißen leered.
Itzel turned away shyly and looked at the red-dirt floor. She was dressed demurely in her native traje: a colourful kamixa shirt, and an ankle-length wraparound skirt secured by a wide woven belt. Levi knew the shaman and the village elders would have sent her, but why?
‘I’m not used to being kept waiting, Fräulein. I expected you three days ago.’
Itzel looked at the floor again before reaching into her woollen shoulder satchel. She withdrew a pottery jug and a single mug fashioned in the shape of a monkey. Itzel placed the mug on the table and poured from the jug. The elders had mixed the pulque with mango and pineapple.
‘Hatsh mal-ob,’ Itzel said nervously, bu
t von Heißen was already focused on the top of her blouse. Itzel’s flawless brown skin gleamed in the flickering light of the oil lamp.
‘She doesn’t speak German or English, Sturmbannführer, but she is offering you a small gift of friendship.’
Von Heißen picked up the mug, and tasted the pulque. ‘Fruchtsaft! Fruit juice!’ He drained the mug and poured some Glenfiddich into it. ‘Have a real drink, Fräulein,’ he said, guiding her to a chair and letting his hand pass over her thigh.
Levi knew it was futile but he had to try. ‘I would caution you against doing anything that might make things difficult between your expedition and the villagers.’
‘Verpiss Dich! Piss off, Herr Professor! I’ll deal with you in the morning.’ Von Heißen got to his feet unsteadily. He reached for the figurine and locked it in his trunk, pocketing the keys.
Furious, and very worried about Itzel, Levi returned to his tent and turned up the oil lamp. Roberto Arana was sitting in one of his canvas chairs in the shadows.
‘Don’t worry about Itzel, Professor. Mayan princesses were often called on to make sacrifices and Itzel knows it is for the greater good of her people.’
‘She is a princess?’
Roberto smiled. ‘You must pack your things quickly,’ he said. ‘Just the bare essentials. It’s no longer safe for you here and we are leaving tonight.’
‘But the figurine …’
‘Do you know if the German drank the pulque?’
‘Just one mug,’ Levi replied, the meaning of Itzel’s gift dawning on him.
‘One mug is enough. The pulque was carefully prepared.’
‘So, Fräulein, come and sit on the bed, where we can get better acquainted.’ Von Heißen steadied himself with the help of the tent pole as he closed the flap. He turned, trying to focus, but the inside of the tent started to spin. He lurched towards Itzel but instead fell face-first into the red dirt, and Itzel did as she’d been instructed. She took the keys from his pocket, unlocked his trunk and placed the figurine in her satchel. She returned the keys to von Heißen’s pocket and made her way across the airstrip to where the shaman and Levi, together with a protection party of six young warriors from the village, were waiting. Levi had only had time to pack a satchel containing some toiletries and underwear, his tools, the two maps and Ramona’s precious letters.
‘Put this in your bag,’ Roberto said, handing Levi the jade figurine.
‘There is still one more to be found, but the maps will guide you. Safeguard the two figurines you have with your life, because together with the third, they will lead you to the Maya Codex.’
‘But how —’
‘It will happen when the cosmos is ready,’ Roberto replied as the lead warrior re-lit his torch.
‘What about the Germans?’ Levi asked as they moved off down the jungle track.
‘Leave them to us. The women and children of the village are already on the move to a safe hideout in the jungle. The warriors will take you by canoe downriver and on to Puerto Barrios and the Gulf of Honduras. One of our people will meet you there. We’ve arranged passage to Naples on a cargo ship, and from there you can make your way back to Vienna. It will take time, and it won’t be very comfortable, but going through Italy will be safer. Von Heißen will probably report you missing and they’ll be watching the airports.’
‘I don’t know how to thank you …’
‘Safeguarding the figurines will be more than enough,’ Roberto replied. He turned and smiled at Levi, his teeth flashing white in the torchlight. The sounds of the German marching band and the singing in the mess tent receded, supplanted by the crickets and a roar from one of the great cats.
11
THE VATICAN, ROME
‘I’ve done as you requested, Eminence, and interviewed anyone who might have information on the lost Maya Codex, including Father Ehrlichmann and the papal nuncio in Guatemala City,’ Alberto Felici said. ‘I’m now convinced it probably lies hidden in or around Tikal.’
‘So Himmler is on to something concrete?’ Pacelli observed.
Felici smiled enigmatically. ‘I’d be very careful of Reichsführer Himmler, Eminence, he keeps some very strange company. On the advice of a Karl-Maria Wiligut, a former colonel in the Austrian Imperial Army, Himmler has taken over a medieval castle in Wewelsburg and turned it into a Nordic academy for the SS. But I’ve discovered that Wiligut is a deranged, violent alcoholic who was only released from a mental asylum in 1927.’
‘Why would Himmler take notice of a deranged alcoholic?’
‘For one thing, Wiligut is a fierce opponent of the Jews, and he publishes an anti-Semitic paper called The Iron Broom. But there’s a lot more to Heinrich Himmler than anti-Semitism, Eminence. He’s feared throughout the Reich as a cold, hard, ruthlessly efficient administrator who doesn’t miss the slightest detail, but behind the scenes, the Reichsführer is heavily into the occult. Wiligut has been presented as a mystic who has access to lost cities and civilisations via ancient channels … He’s managed to convince Himmler that the final great battle for civilisation will occur around Wewelsburg in the valleys of Westphalia.’
‘Then we’re dealing with a crank?’
Felici shook his head. ‘Never underestimate Himmler, Eminence. He’s turning the SS into a new Aryan aristocracy, a noble order of warriors sworn to the Führer, modelled on the Knights Templar and the Jesuits. Himmler intends to develop Wewelsburg as an SS city, a pagan Vatican at the centre of the new world.’
Pacelli’s eyes widened.
‘Himmler is now relocating the villagers of Wewelsburg and remodelling the castle. He’s established a concentration camp in the Niederhagen Forests, where Jews are being imprisoned and drafted into forced labour. We’re dealing with the Devil here, Eminence. Outwardly Himmler’s prim and proper, but his mind is medieval. He’s cold, calculating and lethal; and as far as his treatment of the Jews is concerned, you may have to make some public remarks. International condemnation is growing.’
‘I’m aware of that, Alberto,’ Pacelli said, irritation in his voice, ‘but there are bigger issues to consider than the plight of the Jews.’
‘Are you also aware then, Eminence, that your papal nuncio in Istanbul is organising an escape route for Jewish children? Weizman confided in me that if things get any worse in Vienna, he may have to get his family out through Turkey.’ Felici watched carefully for any reaction that might reveal enmity between the powerful Cardinal Secretary of State and his subordinate in Turkey, Angelo Roncalli.
Pacelli made a mental note to speak with the archbishop in the Vatican’s foreign ministry. ‘Did Professor Weizman give you any idea of what might be in this codex?’
‘He thinks the Maya have encoded a warning of a coming annihilation; but he also thinks there could be a connection between the Mayan warning and the warnings of the Virgin at Fátima.’
Pacelli went pale. His own connection to Our Lady was strong. Pope Benedict XV had elevated him to archbishop on 13 May 1917, the very day the blessed Virgin Mary had first appeared to the three peasant children at Fátima in Portugal. The connection had never been lost on Pacelli, nor had the blessed Virgin’s three warnings.
‘Is the Vatican going to make these warnings public, Eminence?’
Pacelli didn’t answer. A heavy silence descended on the Secretary of State’s apartment. ‘It’s possible,’ Pacelli said finally, ‘that we may release the first two warnings. At present, all three are in the hands of the Bishop of Leiria in Portugal. The third – and this must remain strictly between you and me – the third contains a threat to the Holy Church itself, and it must remain hidden.’
‘Perhaps all three should be moved to the secret archives, Eminence, where they will be better protected? The existence of the documents and the miracle of the sun are quite widely known.’
Pacelli’s thoughts went back to the last apparition, on 13 October 1917, when on a wet and windy morning 70 000 people had gathered in the fields at Cova da Iria to w
itness the miracle the blessed Virgin had promised the three children at Fátima. As the clouds cleared, little Lúcia had called to the crowds and pointed towards the sun. Suddenly, the sun began to rotate like a catherine-wheel, shooting light in different colours, as the great crowds would attest. Several journalists from Portugal’s most influential newspapers, including O Século, a pro-government and anti-religious paper, reported the sun ‘zigzagging’ and reversing direction across the sky. The Lisbon daily, O Dia, recorded the sun as having a deep-blue light emanating from its centre, illuminating thousands of people prostrate and weeping on the ground.
‘The warnings are secure for now, Alberto,’ Pacelli said, ‘but, as you say, they should be moved to the secret archives. In the meantime I want you to keep a close eye on developments in Tikal. If the Maya Codex is linked to the warnings of the blessed Virgin, then it too must be secured in the secret archives.’
‘I agree, Eminence. We will need to watch Weizman very carefully.’
Felici acknowledged the salute of the Swiss Guard as he left the Vatican through huge bronze doors. He descended the marble steps and headed into the night across the cobblestones of a deserted Piazza San Pietro. His conversation with Pacelli had been illuminating. A seat on the board of the Vatican Bank would give him power. But as he walked towards the Tiber, he reflected on the meeting he’d held with von Heißen before he’d left Tikal. Von Heißen’s links to Himmler might put him in an even more powerful position. Felici was a master at the arcane art of the double agent.
12
VIENNA, 1938
The train slowed as it approached the Brenner Pass checkpoint on the Italian–Austrian border. The snow-capped granite of the Zillertal and Stubai Alps towered over the pass. When the train hissed to a stop, Levi watched in trepidation as the Nazi guards boarded. The closer Levi got to Vienna, the more insecure he felt.
THE MAYA CODEX Page 8