THE MAYA CODEX

by Adrian D'hagé

  ‘I’m on your side. So you can put that down,’ O’Connor rasped between deep breaths.

  ‘Not until you tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing in my apartment!’ Her hands were shaking.

  ‘My name is Curtis O’Connor. And strange as it may seem, I came to protect you.’

  The shaman’s words came flooding back … There are two more men, one of whom will deal with the other. You will come to trust one of these with your life.

  ‘Who are you?’ Aleta demanded again.

  ‘That’s a long story … ’

  ‘Give me the short version!’

  ‘I’m with the CIA, and right now they want you out of the road. You’ve pissed off some seriously powerful people.’

  ‘If you’re with the CIA and they want me dead, how come you’re here to protect me? And who’s he?’ Aleta pointed the knife at the corpse on her living room floor.

  ‘Antonio Sodano, a hired hitman, or he was. But why don’t you put the knife down and perhaps I can give you the longer version over coffee?’

  ‘I’m calling the police!’

  ‘That’s the last thing you should do.’

  ‘Why not? A mafia hitman just attempted to murder me!’

  ‘Think about it,’ O’Connor said quietly. ‘If you call the police, you’ll have every journalist in Vienna on your front doorstep. You won’t be able to move without a camera crew following you, and because there’s mystery surrounding who wants you dead, the journalists are going to keep probing.’

  ‘Which might give me a degree of protection from assholes like you!’

  ‘That’s perhaps a little ungrateful?’ O’Connor suggested with a lopsided grin.

  Aleta said nothing. She felt like bursting into tears.

  ‘And far from giving you protection,’ O’Connor continued, ‘if this gets publicity, the people who want you out of the way will redouble their efforts to silence you. These guys play for keeps and money isn’t an obstacle, Aleta. You’re going to have to trust me on this. The first priority is to get rid of the body.’

  Again the shaman’s words came back: trust him with your life. ‘So we get rid of the body,’ she said, her heart rate subsiding a little, ‘but when it’s found, the police are going to come looking for me. What then?’

  ‘Only if it’s linked to this apartment. When’s the garbage collected?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I’ll be back shortly, but if you don’t mind, I’ll use your bathroom first.’

  O’Connor looked in the mirror. ‘Not a pretty sight,’ he muttered, as he gingerly dabbed at his battered face. Several minutes later he left the apartment. Sterngasse was deserted. With a bit of luck it would stay that way, he thought, as he walked quickly down the narrow cobbled street towards several wheelie bins that were already on the street just past the bookshop. O’Connor chose a full one and headed back towards Aleta’s apartment, the load muffling the sound of the wheels on the cobblestones. When he reached the courtyard, he checked for any sign of activity in the rest of the block. Satisfied, he emptied the contents into Aleta’s bin and carried the bookshop’s empty bin up the stairs and into the living room. Aleta was sitting at the kitchen table.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Fine: one of the most dangerous words in the female lexicon.’

  Aleta glared at him. ‘So we just put the body out with the garbage, do we?’

  ‘Look, I know you’ve been through a hell of a lot, but, like I said, you’re going to have to trust me, because this isn’t over – not by a long shot. Sometimes, the simplest methods are the best. If we’re lucky, this bin will be picked up by a mechanical lever and emptied through the top of the truck. Unless someone actually sees the contents being tipped in, the body will be compacted with the rest of the garbage and may never be found. At worst, if the body’s discovered, the police will identify Sodano, conclude it’s drug-related and cross another young thug off their wanted list. They’re not going to come swarming around here, at least not initially, and if they do, we’re going to be well out of here.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘We. Because right now, whether you like it or not, you and I are in this together. If you put the coffee pot on, I’ll explain when I get back.’

  O’Connor searched Sodano’s body. He left the wallet and Italian passport in Sodano’s jacket but removed the cell phone.

  ‘Why are you keeping his phone?’

  ‘SIM cards can be tracked. But if I drop it into a passing barge on the Donaukanal, who knows where it might finish up?’ O’Connor said with a grin. He picked up Sodano’s body in a fireman’s lift and dumped it headfirst into the wheelie bin. Sodano was stocky but he was short, and O’Connor managed to bend Sodano’s knees and push his legs into the bin. He closed the lid and pulled the bin but one wheel had fallen into a hole in the carpet and O’Connor had to yank the bin free.

  ‘‘I’m afraid there’s a bit of damage to the floor,’ he said, peeling back the carpet in front of the fireplace. The old floorboard had been dislodged and O’Connor pulled it clear. There, in the cavity between the floor joists, was a battered old tin trunk. It was nearly a metre long and about thirty centimetres wide.

  Aleta, her animosity momentarily forgotten, helped O’Connor extract the trunk from its hiding place. Together they lifted it onto the carpet.

  ‘If this belonged to your grandfather, he wanted it well hidden,’ O’Connor observed, stepping back.

  ‘I think I know why,’ Aleta said, her fingers trembling as she pried open the latch. The lid creaked as she raised it to reveal an old yellowed notebook and two separate packages, each protected by red velvet cloth. Aleta unwrapped the first package to reveal an intricately carved jade sculpture, and she felt her heart skip a beat. ‘My God. The figurines!’ she gasped.

  O’Connor watched her unwrap the second exquisite carving.

  ‘You’ve been looking for these?’

  Aleta didn’t answer, turning the second figurine in her hands and examining it closely. She put the artefact down and looked O’Connor in the eye, her mind racing. Should she trust this man, as the shaman had suggested? He seemed to know who was out to kill her, and he had saved her life, but still she was wary. Very wary. ‘Give me one reason I should trust you,’ she challenged.

  ‘You shouldn’t trust anyone. At least, not until you get to know them, and maybe not even then.’

  ‘You say there are people out to silence me. How do you know that?’

  ‘Because I was sent here to kill you.’

  ‘What?’ Aleta recoiled in shock. ‘So why didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s a long story as well, but I’ll give you the short version.’

  Aleta listened in stony silence as O’Connor gave her a potted history of the events that had led to his interception of Sodano, and the involvement of Wiley and Felici. ‘Look,’ he said finally. ‘We can spend the rest of the night arguing, or we can call a truce. I’m not asking you to like me, but you’ll have to trust me … at least until I get you out of here.’

  Aleta stared at him frostily.

  O’Connor reached underneath his jacket, withdrew the Glock he’d recovered from the bedroom and proffered it to her. ‘Take it.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Take it,’ O’Connor insisted. ‘I could have killed you at any time,’ he explained, handing Aleta the weapon. ‘I came to protect you,’ he emphasised, pushing the barrel to one side. ‘It’s loaded.’

  Aleta looked at him quizzically.

  ‘And now you can kill me, or call the police, or both. Or we can call a truce and get the hell out of here.’

  ‘Tonight?’ She handed the weapon back to O’Connor.

  He shook his head. ‘Tomorrow. First I’ve got to deal with Pretty Boy Floyd over there and we both need some sleep. Have you got a spare bedroom here? I’d ask you back to my hotel, but it’s only our first date.’

  ‘Don’t p
ush your luck, Mister O’Connor.’

  ‘Have you ever heard of the Maya Codex?’ Aleta asked, plunging the coffee at the kitchen table.

  ‘I was at Monsignor Jennings’ lecture,’ O’Connor admitted.

  ‘Why am I not surprised?’ Aleta shook her head, her feelings of being watched and stalked returning. ‘Trying to pass yourself off as an archaeologist, no doubt.’

  ‘I did a couple of nights’ study, although it was a public lecture,’ he added sheepishly.

  Aleta nodded. ‘Then you would have heard the question about the codex.’

  ‘And Jennings dismissing it as a figment of the media’s imagination. Is it?’

  ‘It exists.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Now it’s your turn to trust me.’

  ‘So you think these figurines will lead you to it?’ O’Connor asked after Aleta had given him a thumbnail sketch of her grandfather’s work, and Dr Arana’s warnings.

  ‘Well, I can’t be sure of that. In any case, I still need to find the third one. The ancient Maya went to great lengths to ensure the codex would remain hidden until the time was right for it to be recovered.’

  ‘And José Arana thinks that time may have arrived?’

  Aleta nodded. ‘The discovery of these two figurines may not be an accident, and if you look at them closely, you’ll see that each one is in the shape of a tree, the Mayan tree of life. It’s a very powerful symbol that represents creation, which right now is under extraordinary threat. The male figurine has a male jaguar at the base, while the neutral one is in balance with both male and female cats. The third figurine will undoubtedly have a female jaguar – the lost feminine.’

  ‘The jaguar … one of the great cats of the Guatemalan jungle, and if I recall correctly, sacred to the ancient Maya.’

  For the first time since O’Connor had burst into her apartment, Aleta allowed herself a smile. ‘So those two nights spent studying had some benefit?’

  ‘Not enough, unfortunately.’

  ‘Don’t feel too bad about it. My grandfather spent a lifetime studying the Maya, and he only scratched the surface. We think we are the most advanced civilisation in history, but we’ve yet to uncover the real history of the ancients. When we do, we will find that the Maya, like the Inca and the Egyptians, were all much more advanced than pompous historians like Jennings allow.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ O’Connor agreed. ‘There is something in this codex that has both the Vatican and my government very worried. Both sides will do anything to get their hands on it, so that truce between you and I is going to have to last, at least until I help you find it.’

  ‘Why do you think the Vatican or the US government is after it? And why would you want to help me find it?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I know they’re both determined to get to this codex before you do, and if they do, I suspect they will bury it from public view.’

  ‘What about the warnings?’

  ‘They’ll take a chance on them. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time the public has been kept in the dark.’

  Aleta looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure what’s driving your government, but I think I know why the Vatican would be after it,’ she said finally. ‘The Vatican kept the Dead Sea Scrolls from public view for over thirty years because the contents threatened the uniqueness of Jesus’ message. The Maya Codex might be a much bigger threat than the Dead Sea Scrolls.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘My grandfather left some notes. He thought the codex would be found in the jungles of Guatemala, and that it would not only contain a warning of what might be about to happen to us, but it might be linked to the warnings the Virgin Mary issued at Fátima.’ Aleta allowed herself a smile. ‘The Vatican has always felt threatened by Mayan spirituality, Mr O’Connor.’

  O’Connor smiled wanly. ‘Do you think we might drop the “Mr O’Connor”?’

  Aleta took a deep breath. ‘Look, I do appreciate what you’ve done tonight … It’s just that I don’t have people bursting into my apartment with guns and knives every day of the week, and it’s going to take me a little time before I can trust you – if I ever do. Although if what you tell me is true, and you’ve defied your boss to protect me, they’re going to be after you as well.’

  ‘That’s probably an understatement, and all the more reason why we need to get out of Vienna and head for Guatemala.’

  Aleta shook her head. ‘Not before I find out what happened to my grandfather. Tomorrow, I’m catching a train to Bad Arolsen. The town houses millions of documents containing details on Holocaust victims, and they’re finally available to the public.’

  ‘Yes. I remember reading something about that. And you think your grandparents will be amongst them?’ O’Connor asked gently.

  Aleta nodded sadly. ‘Along with my father and his sister, although they both escaped.’

  ‘Well …’ Now O’Connor’s mind was racing. ‘Bear in mind that as soon as Wiley discovers what’s happened here, there’ll be a manhunt on that will make the search for bin Laden look like a walk in the park. How long do you need at Bad Arolsen?’

  ‘A day – two at the most. I’ve already booked my time through the International Tracing Service. The Mauthausen records will be grouped together.’

  ‘And another day at Mauthausen itself. So allowing for travel, we need another five days in Austria. We might get away with it, but it’ll be touch and go. In the meantime, you and I had better get some rest.’

  O’Connor scanned the Ringstrasse behind and then ushered Aleta through the old brass-handled wooden doors of the Café Schwarzenberg.

  They found a vacant booth in a quiet corner of the eighteenth-century café on the Ringstrasse opposite the Imperial Hotel, and O’Connor passed Aleta the breakfast menu. The café was only half full, and again O’Connor scanned the clientele, but there was no one out of the ordinary. They were mainly business people, heads buried in newspapers, with a croissant and a mokka or a schwarzer for company. It was too early for the tourists.

  ‘Kaffee, Kipferl, Marmelade und ein weichgekochtes Ei, bitte,’ O’Connor ordered. The old waiter’s black suit and bow tie matched the ambience of the café’s chandeliers, tapestries, wood-panelled pillars and old leather-padded wooden chairs.

  ‘Und eine Zeitung, Herr?’

  ‘Die New York Times, bitte.’

  ‘Und Ihnen, Frau?’

  ‘Ich werde Die Welt, und die Wiener Frühstück als Gut, danke,’ Aleta replied in flawless German, ordering the German daily and the same Viennese breakfast as O’Connor.

  ‘Danke schön.’ O’Connor thanked the waiter for the newspapers and handed Aleta the wooden rod that had Die Welt attached. ‘You’re making me feel inadequate.’

  ‘You seem to get by. How many languages do you speak?’

  ‘I’m fluent in German, French and Italian, and I get by, as you put it, in Spanish, Russian and Chinese.’

  ‘Very impressive. I dare say Russian was a product of the Cold War, but why Chinese?’ Aleta thought she saw a momentary shadow in his eyes.

  ‘That’s another long story. I worked on security for the Beijing Olympics.’

  ‘You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?’

  O’Connor smiled. ‘Comes with the territory, I guess. Danke schön.’ He thanked the waiter again as the coffees arrived, grateful for the interruption.

  ‘So what’s the plan? You need to check out of your hotel?’

  ‘Train leaves at 10.40 and my hotel’s just across the Ringstrasse,’ O’Connor said, indicating the Imperial through the high, curtained windows.

  ‘The Imperial? You do travel in style.’

  O’Connor shrugged modestly. ‘It’s a tough life, but someone has to do it.’ His eyes met those of a tall, thin man in a black overcoat and beret, standing by a newsstand on the opposite side of the Ringstrasse. The man immediately went back to reading his newspaper.

  ‘Don’t look now, but there’s a t
all guy in a beret across the road who’s got us on his radar. After I’ve left, wait until he follows me, then get a taxi to Westbahnhof. I’ll give him the slip and meet you there.’

  Aleta watched the man who had saved her life jog effortlessly across the Kärntner Ring towards the Imperial. As soon as O’Connor left, the thin man in the black overcoat and beret followed him down the Ringstrasse.

  35

  CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  Howard Wiley flicked on the last briefing overhead for the new president’s first visit to the CIA headquarters. From Wiley’s point of view, the election had been a disaster: the new president eschewed the use of force in favour of negotiation. It was a language Wiley had never understood.

  ‘In summary, Mr President, America faces many challenges around the world. Terrorist networks are widely dispersed and growing in number. Nuclear proliferation continues to be a cause for grave concern. We know North Korea has had access to reprocessed fuel rods and enriched uranium from their reactor at Yongbyon, and increasingly sophisticated ballistic missiles are now available from international arms dealers. Caution is also required in any negotiations with Iran,’ Wiley warned. ‘Tehran will not give up on enriching uranium, and unless we act against them, in a few short years Ahmadinejad’s threat to wipe Israel off the map could be a reality.’