by Tom Rich
“Yeah?” Trish waited for Aly to elaborate. Aly only darkened. “Well, could you at least give me a category? Lifetime plan? You were so impressed with the law enforcement industry… No? Uhh, look, all kidding aside, this looks serious. If there really is a Guacamolian death squad out to—”
“Burlington? Vermont?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, but—”
“And one other time you told me he was in Utica.”
“Umm…oh, Ithaca.”
“There. See what I mean?”
“No. No, I don’t see what you mean.”
“I watched a hell of a lot of cable the last three days. One thing I found out was the national press is not covering Blue’s college town tour.”
“Okay. Okay. So he calls me once in a while.”
“On my phone? Trish, how could you?”
“Hoo boy. Look, you guys were split. You said you never wanted anything to do with him again. And you were ten thousand miles away.”
“Not even five!”
“You know something? You know what? You have got to bee-lieve he was cheating on you the whole time anyway.”
“With you?”
“No. Not with me. I would never— We’re friends, Aly. I swear it was never until after you split.”
“How soon can you have your stuff out of my apartment?”
“Hey. Come on. Let’s not— Okay. All right. I already have some stuff in the apartment upstairs. I could finish it up tomorrow. But let’s not—”
“I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
“Not a problem. Clove said I can— Hey! Aly! Wait! Let’s not leave it like this. Come on. I’ll make you an Apocalypse. On me. No cherry. We’ll call it a Tailgater. Clove won’t mind, considering. At least let’s talk about this.”
Aly flicked a dismissive wave. The door pulled out of her hand and closed on its own before she could slam it.
The night was the coldest she’d felt in a long while, and that was a good thing. No rail yard spike rose up from the nearby tracks to seek out and pierce her aching heart. But the “It’s a cold world, kid” metaphor bracing all around assured her the world could occasionally strum a chord or two for the soundtrack of her life.
Aly thought about dropping by Jilly’s to hear some live music, maybe catch up with friends. Jilly’s was always her second choice on nights she didn’t feel like hiking all the way up to Night Town. Someone in Jilly’s might buy her a drink. But someone there might also ask her about Blue. Or, worse, ask about Trish.
Things suddenly looked bleak in the friend department.
Not to mention Jones Pelfry had her straddling the fence about whether or not Tencho had used her to get to Ukit Took’s artifacts. Everything was just too pat, Jones had said. Tencho showing up at the village just after she and Dr. Arbanian arrived. Tencho able to gain her trust by helping her overcome language and cultural barriers. Tencho rescuing her at the last possible moment, then having just enough money to get her home. Of course, that would mean her whole seven-day guerilla tour was a part of the ruse, and that seemed excessive.
If Jones was right, someone might come after her to lead them to the artifacts. All she had to do was point to Kurtwood Franz. She would do so gladly. If Franz had so much money he could get away with murder in his own backyard, then maybe a Guacamolian death squad would serve justice where justice was due.
Would that serve justice for Arby? It could be his death served justice to the set of ancient laws that guided the hand that took him. But didn’t she owe it to him to seek a justice within the set of laws that guides their world?
Aly skipped Jilly’s and headed for home. Bed seemed the best place to be.
Several minutes later she stood before her door. She shook out her keys, reached for the knob.
A man stepped from the shadows.
“Shit. Don’t do that.” Aly dropped her keys. “Hey! You were…” She backed a step. “You’re the guy…” Another step back, another step away from her keys. “You broke in the other night.”
“No, miss,” the man said very quietly. “I did not break into your home on that evening.” He bent down and retrieved the keys. He held them out. Aly took another step back. The man pushed gently on the door. “The door was already open. Like it is now.”
His sad air and quiet manner put Aly at ease. Dressed in a cheap suit, his poise made him look better dressed than his budget obviously allowed.
“Yeah, that would’ve been my roommate. Tenant. Ex-tenant. She’s the one with the open door policy around here.”
The man took a step back, regarded Aly. “You were in no condition to talk on the first occasion we met.”
Aly felt her door needed to be closed. But how? And from which side? “Look, I’m not going inside with you. I have no idea who you are, but I can make a pretty good guess—”
He stepped forward and placed the keys on the doorstep, then took five backward paces. “You know of the name Xaman?”
Aly pointed west. “A hundred miles that way. Everything you want is in Indianapolis. Got a car? You can be there in ninety minutes. My only involvement has been filling the cops in on Maya. By the looks of you, you could do a better job.” She stepped forward, snatched up her keys then stepped back.
“Alvaro Xaman?”
She weighed the keys in one hand. “Yeah. The guy that was chopped. Like I said, that was in In—”
“Did you ever meet Alvaro Xaman?”
“Definitely not.”
“He is my brother.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry. Really, I am. No one deserves what happened to him.”
“My name is Avendano.”
“Aly.” She nodded. “But you probably know that.”
“If you would have met my brother? And you do know something about our mythology.”
Aly didn’t need a book ten years in the making to add up two and two. “Oh, man. Man oh man oh man. Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me. Alvaro Xaman is your twin brother.”
“That is correct.”
“And you don’t believe Alvaro is dead, do you? I mean, you know his head has been severed from his body, but—”
“I did not ask to be at the center of what is soon to take place. Nor did Alvaro. Alvaro was a man of science and a man of politics. He used his education to help our people negotiate the modern world. But he did not believe in our ways.”
“But you happen to believe your brother has morphed into one of the Hero Twins, and that now he’s in the Underworld playing the ballgame against the Lord of Death and impressing the gods by putting on his swerve and getting everything lined up for the end of the Fourth Creation. Too bad your ancestors didn’t play the more superior game way back when. Your sacrifices would be a lot easier on the neck.”
Avendano’s eyes drifted out of focus.
Aly had hit the bulls-eye. But she sensed it wasn’t her nailing down his belief system that wounded Avendano. It was having those beliefs summed up so succinctly that drew him into himself.
“What do you believe in, Miss Roarke?”
“Yeah. I have seen the temple of Ukit Took. And all the artifacts that go with it. So maybe all of that does bear out his legend. But your brother’s death is about ownership of those artifacts and smuggling and I don’t know what all else except that some whacko billionaire is behind it all and he probably had him killed. That’s as deep as my belief in this whole affair goes.”
“By whose hand the stroke came from that severed my brother’s head does not matter. Just as myself and my brother did not ask for the roles we are to play. Things have been set into motion that cannot be stopped.”
“And I was counting on you guys to bring the rich man in Indianapolis to justice.”
Avendano shook his head.
“And you are here, why?” said Aly.
“We are not seeking a world platform with which to air grievances. Nor are we terrorists intent on making a poin
t with violence. We only want what is rightfully ours so that we can continue our way of life.”
“And if I don’t help you get those artifacts, you’re going to kill me?”
“It is not my role to kill, Miss Roarke.”
“What about Phillip Arbanian? Someone from your cult mutilated him, then tried to cut my head off inside Ukit Took’s temple.”
“I am not a member of a cult. And about Phillip Arbanian, I know nothing. I can assure you, though, that any harm done to anyone you know was not in retaliation for my brother’s death. And no one who is of my people would have spilled your blood inside that temple.”
“The guy had a machete to my throat.”
“Spilling your blood inside Ukit Took’s temple would have rendered it impure; ineffectual for our purposes.”
“What are you saying? That knowledge about a place that will get me killed is the only place I’m safe? That what you call irony?”
“Irony is not a part of my thinking. Irony is what people turn to when belief has been exhausted.”
Aly nodded, musing. “Yeah, well, I don’t understand what it is you want with me. You knew how to find me, you must know Kurtwood Franz has the goods.”
“It is very cold out here, Miss Roarke.” He opened a palm toward her front door.
Aly never felt more alone, never before felt there might be no one in the world she could trust. And the night was growing colder by the minute. “Well, I guess you look harmless enough.”
“I can remain outside. What I have to say will not take long. And if you would be more comfortable standing inside?” He took two further steps back from the door.
“Man, you people. Everything you’ve been through and still so gracious.”
32: Beers of the Bible
“This is Pelfry.”
“Jones, it’s Aly Roarke”
“Glad you called, Aly. I have a question.”
“You mean there’s something Detective Baney did not ask me?”
“Lloyd Baney is a piece of work, isn’t he.”
“He was a hell of a lot more interested in my personal life than anything that had to do with Maya.”
“Sounds like Baney, all right. He probably acted like it was all a matter of establishing your credibility, and now he’s jerking off over something you told him.”
“Not flattering. Not flattering at all. This is typical of Indiana tax dollars at work?”
“The reason you called?”
“I was contacted by Avendano Xaman.”
“Oh? And his relation to Alvaro Xaman is?”
“Brother. Twin brother, to be exact.”
“Did you contact the Cincinnati Police?”
“He’s harmless enough.”
“You’re that good a judge of character? Especially considering there may be killers coming after you?”
“Avendano came to me because he doesn’t want there to be killing.”
“If this has to do with the Ukit Took’s artifacts, it has to do with the murder of Phillip Arbanian.”
“Right. But even if I told the police they’d never find him. These people become invisible when they need to.”
“Maybe on his turf. He’s out of his element here.”
“Okay, I told you. You’re the police. Happy? Now, would you like me to tell you what they want?”
“They?”
“Avendano. His people they. Look, they’re not terrorists and they don’t have a political platform to spew all over everyone. And their organization doesn’t have a name. It’s not even an organization. They’re just people who want what is theirs and to go home and be left alone to be who they are. That’s not asking too much.”
“I see. Now…I need to know how you feel about those people, where your sympathies lie.”
“Oh?”
“What’s most important to you? Bringing the killers of Phillip Arbanian to justice?”
“You know how much that means to me. Bringing in his killers is the only thing I can do for him.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“What you just said about Avendano Xaman and his people? You can’t erase the fact that you’re about the only person familiar with artifacts that people will kill to get their hands on. And allow me to stress that these people whose cause you’re sympathetic towards have killed someone close to you. Yet you feel they deserve justice.”
“Justice has nothing to do with what they’re after. That’s what I need to talk to you about. They don’t care who killed Alvaro. They may have done it themselves. Or if it was Kurtwood Franz, that doesn’t matter to them. They see the whole thing as an ancient prophecy kicking into gear. The Fourth Creation is about to end. They need those artifacts to see if a Fifth Creation follows. What they want me to do is contact Franz and get him to show me where the Ch’ak of Ukit Took and the blank stela are.”
“Then what? An attack on Franz World Headquarters?”
“I don’t know. But nothing like that. Maybe diplomacy. These are poor people. They have no one funding their cause for them to have an arsenal. Don’t even call it a cause. They just want their way of life back. But they’re not going to drop out of the sky with assault weapons blazing. They just do not have the means.”
“Let me pose a very likely scenario. Suppose Kurtwood Franz is guilty of any one of the murders involved here. I don’t know, maybe he believes he’s the Second Coming of Ukit Took. He’s acts like he’s the Second Coming of something.”
“Oh? And where do your sympathies lie? Or lack thereof.”
“Right. Very good. Notice the checks and balances system you and I are developing. We’re becoming a team.”
“Aren’t you a smooth one.”
“Anyway, suppose I’m able to bring Franz in and he’s indicted and there’s going to be a trial. And suppose all governments involved decide the artifacts will go back to their rightful owners. Once the trial is over, of course, because the Ch’ak of Ukit Took and the stela are going to be exhibits A and B in the biggest murder trial of our young century. Now, considering the scope of this trial, and considering all the delays that’ll be thrown up by Franz’s legal team, exhibits A and B are going to be locked down for quite some time. Easily well past December 21, 2012. See what I mean? Even regarding the promise of a speedy trial, I hardly believe the coming of the end of the world will be enough grease to spin the slow wheels of justice.”
“So, what’s to be done?”
“Your positive identification of those artifacts being in Franz’s possession is what I need to move against him. As far as you getting in to see him, I believe I’ve already greased those wheels. As far as what you do for your south-of-the-border compadres, that’s something you’ll have to decide. But I’ll need to know what you do decide, Aly. You and I need to be totally together on this.”
“Do I have to take the Greyhound back to Indy?”
“I’ll come get you.”
“What if this takes a while? That motel was pretty awful.”
“You can stay at my place. Unless you think Trish might get jacked about it.”
“Tell you what, I don’t give a flying fuck what Trish thinks about anything.”
“Oh? I, uh—”
“Look, didn’t you say you had a question for me?”
“Right. Right. Something about the beer lineup at Clove’s.”
“My knowledge as a barfly is more important than what I can tell you about the People of the Maize?”
“Just something I find curious, is all.”
“Which is?”
“The four beers of the month. Their names are listed on the four mermaid tap handles.”
“Okay.”
“They’re from the Thoroughbred Brewing Company: Black Stallion Bock, Red Horse Ale, Belgian White and Palomino Pale Ale.”
“And you’re telling me this, why?”
“I guess you’re not familiar enough with—”
“Wait a minute. Would you cons
ider yellow to be pale?”
“A palomino is golden.”
“One of the end-of-the-world stories I heard down there had four birds that figure in. The birds are black, red, white and yellow.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. If those four birds rise up after a devastating eclipse, the world continues. Eclipses scare the hell out of those people. I think they believe a major blackout will take place on December 21, 2012. You already knew this?”
“No. But it jives with what I was thinking about. In Revelations the Four Horses of the Apocalypse are black, red, white and pale.”
“And now the Four Beers of the Apocalypse are featured at the End of the World Café.”
“And now you and I, who met at the End of the World, are linking up similar elements that come from different cultures that have to do with the end of the world.”
“Those beers are probably a joke on Clove’s part. Come on, she has her book where everyone records their version of the ultimate ending. Whoever is right drinks free for life. See what a joker she is?”
“The book came about from what you told Trish about the Mayan calendar ending on December 21, 2012. You’re one of the few people to have seen evidence that the prophecy of doom is about to kick in. Now, considering how we just linked that up with details in Revelations, and the fact that you and I met through the End of the World, plus Kurtwood Franz being tied in to it all by being a major player in the power grid’s instinct for—”
“The End of the World is a name Clove came up with because she has a bad heart. And speaking of books, that autobiography of Carl Jung you loaned me for my motel stay explains how all cultures use similar symbols in their myths. Archetypes, remember?”
“Which has been making me wonder if those similarities don’t start rushing together as time collapses towards its end.”
“Look, Jones, the most important thing to me right now, no matter how much longer the world is going to last, is nailing whoever killed Arby. Getting sidetracked by all the intrigue surrounding the end of the world sounds like great fun. But that’s just the kind of thing that keeps the real task from getting done. And I am trying oh so hard to beat this quitter thing hanging around my neck. Now, you say you have a plan to get me in to see Franz?”