THE
FORBIDDEN
SCRIPT
By
Richard Brockwell
Copyright © Richard Brockwell 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in, or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
To my loving daughters
Janica and Amanda
And
To Janet, who encouraged me to write.
Table of contents
Prologue
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Prologue
Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico.
Year 215 A.D.
The Mayan people were feeling the drought that has lasted for more than six months now. Crop fields were bare, and food rations were empty. Hunting was also in vain as wildlife migrated to richer grounds in search of food.
Children and the elderly were the first to feel the famine. Disease was everywhere. The people were in chaos and turned to their king for answers. The rulers people were now on the brink of survival.
King Piedras Negras summoned the high priests to call upon the gods in search of answers before his kingdom perishes. Just only a few days ago, he ordered the sacrifice of four of his people in an effort to please the gods.
But the high priests said, “the gods insist on more blood, and more sacrifices have to be considered.”
King Piedras has lost too many of his people to the drought and so ordered the priests to ask the gods for an alternative solution.
It was the first time a king had questioned the gods. Still the high priests were loyal to their king and dared not oppose the Mayan ruler.
So that night, unaware to the king, the priests gathered far outside the temple grounds. They were not planning to summon the heavenly gods, but went to a place forbidden to all others. They descended underground, where all twelve priests entered a sacred cavern and began the ritual for summoning the gods of the underworld. They had now entered Xibalba.
A fire was lit, and chants were sung. Each priest as an offering would draw blood either from their tongue or their wrists. With the fire burning and flames dancing back and forth, combined with the priest’s chanting, the cavern was transformed into a ghostly atmosphere. They continued late into the night, and after many attempts they had failed to make contact with the underworld spirits. They had failed their king, which they all knew failure would mean certain death to them all.
After a while of discussions, an elderly priest stepped out from among them, very old and fragile, leaning forward as he walked with the aid of a stick. He claimed he knew a definite way into the spirit world, but it would mean the sacrifice of someone royal, someone of pure blood, someone being the king’s daughter.
The priests argued among themselves considering the proposal made by the elderly one. They knew the king would never agree to their requests. Therefore, they decided the following night the king’s daughter was to be taken.
Later that night while all were asleep. Two of the high priests entered the royal temple. They crept past the king’s door and proceeded straight into his daughter’s chamber where she lay soundly asleep. One of the priests took out a piece of white cloth and carefully slid it around the young girl’s head gagging her mouth. With a sudden jerk, he pulled it as tight as he could, preventing her from making a sound. Instantly the young girl, barely twelve years of age began to struggle. Her eyes opened wide, confused and scared at what was happening. They carried her out of the temple and made their way down into the underground cavern where the other priests had begun the ritual.
With a fire blazing in the background, dark shadows came alive in every corner of the cavern. They tied down the young girl on the stone sacrificial table, forming a circle around her. The elderly priest then took out a bronze plaque that neither of the others had ever seen or knew of its existence. With a knife in one hand and plaque in the other, he drew blood from the girl’s wrists while reading aloud in some strange dialect.
Almost immediately, the whole cavern came to life. The fire roared and blazed high up into the stone ceiling, flames running down on all sides of the large walls. Next, an icy chill was felt all around them, while dark shadows flew from all directions, exerting screeching sounds that enveloped the cavern. The elderly priest kept on reading, lost in a deep trance. He began shouting out the underworld gods name 'Ah Puch', calling him again and again.
“Ah Puch! Reveal yourself! Take the offering we give to you, and in return redeem our people out of this dying land.”
As he continued to read from the bronze plaque, the dying girl’s body slowly began to levitate. Her bonds now untied she rose above the blazing fire as blood dripped from her slashed wrists. On seeing this, the elderly priest abruptly stopped chanting as the girl’s body was suddenly engulfed in flames.
After a few minutes, the fire died down to its original self. The cavern returned to its cold, damp state again as if nothing had happened. The priests overwhelmed at what they had seen, appeared to be frozen in time. It was something they had never witnessed before, something they would never want to witness again. They had seen the power of the great underworld god, the god of death.
The elderly priest then advised each one of them never to speak of what they had done. The sacrifice had been made, and the people will now live once again in prosperity. The priests turned towards the exit and one by one they made their way up the long flight of stone steps. All except the old priest, who stayed behind making sure the cavern entrance was sealed shut, leaving the dark figure behind, locked inside, never to be seen again. Or not?
CHAPTER ONE
Present day.
Mid-June. Eleven fifteen p.m.
On the outskirts of Miami Florida. At a sleazy bar, with only a ceiling fan to provide some relief from the hot sticky air, sits a lone customer. He has just downed his seventh shot of whiskey.
Feeling slightly intoxicated, he manages to stand up while holding onto the edge of the bar. He decides to call it a night and pays the bartender. He then waits a few seconds to clear his head before heading to the exit.
As he opens the cowboy style swinging doors, a young skinny looking kid with ginger hair bursts in colliding into him. Being a strong, well-built guy that he is, and almost six feet three inches tall, he hardly feels the puny kid who on impact tumbles onto the floor.
“Hey kid! Watch it you dumb ass! You blind or wh
at?”
The kid turns and looks up. “Sorry mister! My fault for rushing in.”
He leaves the bar and takes out his car keys to his black Ford Mustang. As he was about to open the car door, two Latin Americans rush past him armed with 9mm weapons.
They enter the bar shouting, “where is he? Where is that little shit?”
The sound of glasses and bottles can be heard being smashed against the walls. Outside, the lone drinker slams shut the car door, cursing as he takes a deep breath.
“Why me? Why now?”
He re-enters the bar to find one of the Latin guys pinning down the ginger haired kid with his gun pointed at his forehead.
“Where’s my money? Tell me before I blow your brains out!”
Over by the bar, the other Latin American is helping himself to a drink, his weapon laid down on the countertop. On seeing someone entering the bar, he quickly picks up his gun and aims it at the man standing between the swinging doors.
“Bars closed big guy! Turn around and leave!”
The stranger raises his hands in protest.
“Closed! I can’t see any sign saying closed!”
The guy with his gun aimed at the kid stands up and points his weapon at the stranger’s chest.
“We have a smart ass here do we?”
He slowly moves closer with his gun aimed at his target. Suddenly the ginger head kid gets up and runs for cover. That’s all the time the dark haired stranger needed. He was waiting for that split of a second diversion. Pulling out his firearm from behind his jeans, he swiftly, but precisely aims and shoots both men in their shoulders. As the bullets found their targets, both men are flung backward, their weapons flying from their hands. Shouting out in pain as they are being handcuffed, one of them yells out to the tall stranger.
“Who the hell are you man? You crazy son of a bitch!”
He drags them out onto the sidewalk like rag dolls and answers.
“I’m FBI agent Jason Mallock, and I despise drug dealers.”
CHAPTER TWO
Two days have passed since the bar incident. Jason had called the Miami P.D. and waited for a patrol car and ambulance to arrive to take the two injured men for medical treatment before being taken for questioning at the police department.
Jason’s cell phone rings, waking him up after a late night out drinking with his partner special agent Danny Langley.
“Who is it?” asks Jason, barely awake.
“Wake up you lazy drunk! Get your ass over here. The Chief has a new case for us,” says Danny.
Jason manages to pull the sheets off of him and sits on the side of the bed.
“How do you do it? We drink the same amount of alcohol, and we left the bar at the same time. I’m still not sober, and you seem as if you drank lemonade all night,” said Jason.
Danny laughs on his friend’s statement. “Well, maybe I can handle my drinks better than you can, and besides, I work out at the gym three times a week.”
Jason gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom and takes a cold shower. After freshening up, he puts on his usual pair of jeans, a black T-shirt and a pair of sneakers. Jason has never worn a suit to work and has no intention to. He prefers casual, comfortable clothes to suits, which are the official dress code of the F.B.I. Many a times his superior officer Matthew Berks has asked him time and time again to wear a suit. But Jason always gives him the same reply.
“Chief, I don't need a suit to do my job. And anyway the damn dress code is a give away. Any low life criminal will know we’re F.B.I.”
Matt has given up asking and just waves his arms in the air out of frustration.
Before heading downstairs, Jason checks in on his only teenage daughter Sally. Her bedroom door is closed, and he gently knocks.
“Sally, are you up?”
He slowly opens the door. The room is empty, and her bed is not made. Jason gives Sally the privacy she needs. She has just turned nineteen and is growing up fast. But deep down inside, she will always be his little girl.
Studying to become an anthropologist, Sally spends most of her time on school campus with other students. She is hardly ever home, either at some friend’s house studying or on some field trip that has to do with ancient civilizations. It was Jason who encouraged her to choose that particular career, since he has a degree in archaeology. He always mentions to her that they together will make a great team, the archaeologist father and the anthropologist daughter. Both careers involve exploring and discovering ancient ruins and civilizations. Jason was thrilled when Sally one day, came home and told him she would be taking anthropology as her major. He graduated in archaeology at the age of twenty-five and spent a few years working in Egypt. He became very interested in law enforcement after he discovered how many ancient artifacts and treasures were being stolen. Jason wanted to stop illegal smuggling, so he decided to join the F.B.I. Solving numerous cases involving stolen and smuggled priceless artifacts.
Jason closes the bedroom door behind him and heads downstairs, hoping to find Sally in the kitchen. On the kitchen table, he sees Sally’s cold mug of coffee, and a note under it.
“Left for school early. See you later. Love Sally.”
He smiles at the note and pours himself a strong cup of coffee and lights up a cigarette.
At the Miami FBI Headquarters, Chief Berks is growing impatient.
“Agent Langley! Give agent Mallock another call and tell him to get his butt over here asap!” Matt cusses and heads to his office.
Danny speed dials Jason’s cell phone.
“God damn it! I’m on my way!” said Jason.
“Well, hurry it up will you! The Chief is in one of his moods, and all he needs is you arriving late as usual.”
Danny waits for a reply from Jason but realizes his friend has hung up on him.
“Son of a bitch! He hung up on me!”
Fifteen minutes later, Jason arrives. He parks his Ford Mustang in the first available space, having no consideration whatsoever if he has taken somebody’s parking spot. Jason gets out and goes to the rear of the car. He opens the trunk and pulls down a panel revealing a hidden compartment where he keeps his secret stash of weapons, ranging from an Uzi submachine gun to a crossbow. He replaces his Heckler and Koch handgun for a standard Glock pistol, then closes the compartment and shuts the trunk.
Back in the office, Danny was just about to give Jason another call, when he sees him walking in with a cigarette in his mouth, and running his fingers through his sleek black shoulder length hair.
Anyone seeing Jason for the first time would have no idea whatsoever that they were looking at an FBI agent and also an archaeologist. Your first impression of him would be a good for nothing bum. Women are attracted to him like a moth to a flame. His good looks and bad boy attitude keeps the ladies on their toes, and Jason knows it.
Danny whistles over to him.
“Put that cigarette out will you. Matt is waiting for us in his office.”
Jason takes in a long drag of his cigarette and then stomps it out on the floor.
“Jeez Danny, calm down will you! I need another strong cup of coffee first.”
“Go get your coffee, but hurry it up,” said Danny on his way to the Chief’s office.
Danny opens the door to Matt’s office. Chief Berks was looking through a new file placed on his desk a couple of hours ago.
“Come on in Danny,” says Matt, waving him in without looking up from his desk.
“And where is agent Mallock? Don’t tell me he hasn’t arrived yet!”
Danny holds back a bit before saying, “he’s getting a cup of coffee Chief. He should be here…..”
Jason bursts in.
“Morning, Chief! What you got for us?”
Matt is startled by Jason’s sudden entrance. “Damn it Jason! Don’t you knock before entering?”
“Sorry Chief. Didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer.”
“Well, how considerate of you agent Mallock. Just
sit down will you.”
Danny hard-eyed Jason.
“What!” whispers Jason with his hands open.
Matt opens the file in front of him but then stops and closes it again.
“I would like to say a few words before I assign you two to a new case. Jason, that stunt you pulled a few days ago in that bar was risky, and you could have injured someone else. What were you thinking? This is the 21st century, not the wild west!”
Jason was about to say something, but Matt shushed him before he could say a word.
“We all know you’re a dead aim with any weapon. I’m sure you had a few drinks, which could have caused you to miss your target. But the two drug dealers you busted are wanted in three states for drug dealing, whom they mostly sell to young kids. Thanks to you another two low life’s are crossed off the wanted list.”
Jason spoke up, “if I knew they were selling dope to kids, I would not have aimed for their shoulders, and we would be rid of them permanently.”
Matt knows Jason has a mean streak when it comes to drug dealers, especially when manipulating young kids. Jason’s father was a drug addict, and severely beat him and his mother when coming home doped up from drugs.
One evening his mother was brutally beaten and hospitalized. After a few weeks in a coma, she passed away. Jason was only eighteen at the time, when his father was sent to prison serving a ten-year sentence, but was surprisingly released after just three years. A few weeks had passed after his father’s release, when he was informed that his father was killed in a hit and run accident. To this day the driver was never caught, leaving the incident an open case. Jason had never intervened with the hit and run of his father, and has no intention of finding the person responsible for the crime. When he was questioned by the local police department, he said, “my father got what he deserved for killing my mother.”
Matt presented two identical files in front of Jason and Danny.
“Now listen up! You two will be traveling to the Yucatan peninsula, the southeast of Mexico. Some ancient Mayan artifacts have been stolen from an archaeological site recently discovered just a few weeks ago. Two American citizens working there were found murdered at their camp site. The person who discovered and who is in charge of the site is professor Helen Shireberg. She thinks her life could also be in danger. With your archaeological background, we have more of a chance catching these criminals in lesser time than it would take another team from Mexico to solve the case.”
The Forbidden Script Page 1