The Fifth Kingdom

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Montezuma’s tomb and even better, something connected to the Aztec Sun Stone. He almost grew hard imagining how they could use such a find in their struggles. How whatever was within the tomb could provide them with the power they needed. Even if it turned out to be nothing earth-shattering, he had quite a number of clients who were not above paying top dollar for illegal antiquities. That kind of money could fund PM for some time.

  “So what do you want to do now?” Javier asked.

  “Only one thing. Have Miranda’s daughter lead us to the tomb.”

  Deanna rolled over in bed, the tenderness between her legs and the rasp of the sheets against her sensitized breasts reminding her of how she had spent the better part of the night. She couldn’t remember how many times or in how many ways they had made love.

  She just knew that she wanted to make love again.

  Bill’s soft snore, however, warned that she would have to wake him for what she wanted, but she was loath to do it. They had a busy day ahead of them and they both needed to rest.

  So she lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to find peace as her mind replayed the encounter with Lopez. In reality he’d had little to say, but she didn’t know whether that was a good thing.

  Fretful, she turned onto her side, facing Bill’s back. Focusing on that, but finding it even more unnerving than her current thoughts. A tracery of fine lines, varying in width and depth marred the otherwise beautiful skin over his thick deep musculature. Whip marks, but from what kind of weapon she couldn’t tell, although the marks were silvery and faded with age. Not the product of some CIA-related torture, but something older and more personal. Infinitely more dangerous.

  She laid her hand on one thicker ridge of scar, wishing that by doing so she could take away some of that long-ago pain, and he came instantly alert. Turning, he faced her, arms tight to his chest against the morning chill of the air-conditioning.

  “It’s early,” he said, his voice sleep-husky.

  “I couldn’t sleep anymore,” she confessed and shifted closer to him. He opened his arms and dragged her near. His body held the delicious warmth of slumber. “You feel good,” she sighed.

  She felt amazing, Bill thought, enjoying the press of all her soft curves and lean muscles along his body. Battling the reaction to all that lovely femininity, but failing. “I’m sorry about that. We should try to rest.”

  Deanna nodded and eased her hand from between their bodies to run it along his side before splaying it against his ribs. “I’m going to close my eyes now and try not to think about how nice that would feel—”

  “You are so not making this any easier,” he replied with a chuckle.

  “I’m sorry I’m making it so hard,” she bantered back and gazed up at him, deviltry glittering in her eyes.

  “You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?”

  She grinned, reached up and ran her hand through the short crisp strands of his dark hair. “Let’s just say I like seeing the human side of you.”

  “Well unless you want to see the totally crotchety grumpy side of me later, you need to turn around and let me get some more sleep.”

  “Men,” she grumbled and flipped over, but took her revenge by pressing her delicious derriere tight to his arousal. It took all his self-control not to part her thighs and drive into her from behind, but if he did that, he would never get any rest.

  Gritting his teeth, he fought back his body’s reaction and instead focused on everything they would have to get done that day, mentally making lists and going over and over them. Using them like counting sheep until he grew drowsy and her soft regular breaths told him that she somehow slumbered.

  He, on the other hand, remained in that state of sleep like a dolphin, part of him alert to everything around him, processing sights, sounds and ideas, while the other part of his mind shut down to rest.

  It was in that state he slowly roused, sunlight creeping in from the sun climbing up over the horizon.

  Deanna had not moved in her slumber and was still pressed against him, her temptation more than he could handle. Slowly he inched away, intending to shower and dress so he could begin work on their plan.

  In the shower he soaped up, running his hands along his body. Pausing to trace the rib injured by the bullet. Still sore, but not as sensitive. Moving his hand downward, he held back from relieving the want created by being near her. As painful as it was, he didn’t want to belittle what they had just shared by substituting it with self-gratification.

  Cleaning up and finishing his shower, he exited in time to hear the soft knock. He wrapped the hotel robe around himself tightly and opened the door.

  She stood there, likewise bundled into the other robe. “I need to use the bathroom,” she advised and he nodded.

  “It’s all yours.” He bowed and held out his hand and once she had passed, closed the door and quickly dressed. Much like the robes had created some distance for both of them, being armored in his clothing would help keep his mind where it should be.

  They had stashed the journals and their assorted notes in the hotel safe and Bill opened it and removed them. Took the papers out to the living area and the small dining table. The embassy had delivered a multifunction printer/fax/scanner that would serve them well for what they had to do today: fabricate notes and journal entries for Lopez when the time was right. He hoped that with such information, they could get Lopez to either bring them to Miranda, if she was still alive as he believed, or at least grant them access to more of the Primera Mexica members. Either might provide additional information on the fringe group’s plans and the supposed “weapon” which they would use.

  The slight creak of the bedroom door alerted him to her presence.

  She was dressed casually, in faded jeans that molded to her perfectly and a deep green T-shirt that hugged her curves and brought out the verdant hues in her eyes.

  So much for clothes somehow being a barrier to his attraction, he thought, but mustered control. It was time for work, but sadly, that also meant it was time to put themselves at greater risk.

  His one thought as she approached was that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She approached the table where he was setting up the multifunction unit and his computer. Thumbing through her mother’s research journal, she said, “If I understand correctly, we’re going to whet Lopez’s interest with some of these pages?”

  He nodded and finished connecting his laptop. “Do you think you can doctor a few pages of those notes to provide some info, but not anything really valuable?”

  “Because we don’t want to actually lead him to the tomb if Miranda did find it?”

  With a dip of his head, he confirmed it and added, “Do you think you have enough info to find the tomb? Or maybe figure out what could be the ‘weapon’?”

  Deanna understood what he was intimating: If Miranda was dead, could she complete her mother’s mission and locate Montezuma’s final resting place?

  She glanced at the various materials on the table, considering all that she had learned so far from Miranda’s research journal. The notes were copious and detailed. Well-documented and thoughtful. Although she had called her mother’s dream a ‘wild good chase’ the night before and had thought of it that way for most of her life, it was anything but a pipe dream.

  At least not if Miranda’s notes were accurate, and Deanna had not found anything there that contradicted what Deanna knew of the history of Cortez and Montezuma.

  “Possibly,” she said and grabbed hold of the journal and a folded map on which she had been plotting out some of the locations about which Miranda had written. She unfolded the map across the surface of the table, ran her index finger along the various spots she had documented.

  “Miranda noted each spot in her journal and I’ve mapped them out here. This is the last one so far, but I’ve got another hundred or so pages to go.”

  Bill likewise tracked his fi
nger along the points on the map. “And you think that by the time you’re done you’ll know where we can find Montezuma’s grave?”

  Deanna shrugged and glanced up at him. “I’ll know what her last camp location was. I suspect Miranda was too cautious about a discovery like this to actually provide the exact spot.”

  Bill stroked his chin as he considered the map before meeting her gaze. “If you’re right, that caution might have saved her life.”

  Deanna hoped that was true. Even though she had no interest in a reunion with her mother, she didn’t wish her ill. And if Miranda had made such a momentous discovery, it was only right that the world acknowledge it given what she had sacrificed.

  Picking up the journal, she motioned to the computer setup and asked, “How do you want to do this?”

  “It makes sense for you to finish reading through the journal so we do have the last location for Miranda’s camp. Then we can pick a few pages to whet Lopez’s appetite—”

  “Without giving him any worthwhile information. The same for the map, I’m assuming?”

  Bill nodded and smiled at her observations. “The same. I’ll have someone drop by a few more copies that we can play with and doctor one for Lopez.”

  Deanna scooped up the map and looked back toward the sofa in the suite. “I’m going to work over there. How about you?”

  Bill tapped the top of the laptop. “I’ve got some reading to do also. I need to know more about the PM members so we know who and what to expect. They surprised us in New York and I’d rather not have that happen again.”

  With that, Deanna left him to his work and went on with her reading and notes. About an hour later, a courier from the embassy brought the extra copies of the map Bill had requested. Deanna plotted out locations as Miranda noted them in her research. But when she did so, she discovered something in the final entries that was not what she expected based on her knowledge of Mexican history. What Miranda was proposing was something totally contrary to what the various accounts and codices told about the death and burial of Montezuma.

  “Amazing,” she said as she finished up the journal and then sat back to review her notes and the map.

  Bill looked up from his laptop and then rose, stretching as he did so. Grimacing a bit and grabbing at his side before walking over to the sofa. “I’m assuming your mother has surprised you?”

  “Totally.”

  Bill couldn’t fail to notice her excitement at what she had unearthed in the journal. He stood before her and examined the map, observing the notations, which seemed to be moving away from Mexico City. “I thought Montezuma was buried within the boundaries of the city.”

  “The assorted histories indicate that after his death Montezuma was carried to an area called Copulco, which we believe to be in the area of the Templo Mayor right here in the historic district.”

  “Where he was burned—”

  “And an immense foul order rose up. Some believed the odor was due to Montezuma’s betrayal in asking his people to give up their arms to the Spaniards,” Deanna explained, but then laid out the notes she had made from Miranda’s journal. “But Miranda believes that the odor was due to the fact that it was garbage and other items wrapped for burning while a very much alive Montezuma was spirited away by his trusted guards.”

  Bill shook his head and placed his hands on his hips. He considered Deanna’s research and the map. “How could they get that far? The Aztecs didn’t have horses, right?”

  Deanna glanced up at him, seemingly surprised by his knowledge. “You’ve been reading up on Mexican history?”

  Bill shrugged, a bit chagrined. “Your dad sent me a list of links so I could learn a little more. Figured it would help with the mission.”

  “You’re right about the horses. The Spaniards introduced a number of domesticated animals to the New World that changed the way of life in the Americas,” she confirmed and then grabbed up her notes, peeked at them for only a moment before resuming her explanation.

  “Miranda believes that it was arranged for Montezuma’s body to be taken away to a safe place far from the city due to the warfare.”

  “Here,” Bill said and jabbed at a spot on the map, but it was quite a distance away from the center of Tenochtitlán, the Aztec capitol which would later become Mexico City. That meant only one thing.

  “Montezuma’s men had horses somehow. That’s the only way they could have covered that much ground in so short a time.”

  “And they took their wounded ruler to a trio of pyramids, hoping to heal him within those sacred structures.” Deanna circled an area on the map that was roughly three hours northeast of the city and close to a large ridge of hills and valleys created by ancient volcanic eruptions.

  “But Montezuma died anyway. Miranda believes they traveled much farther into this area to safeguard his burial place,” she continued.

  “A tomb where they would have secreted his important belongings, including his weapons,” Bill surmised, recalling what he had read in the various online sources Deanna’s father had provided.

  “Which is why Primera Mexico wants to find the burial site, although I still think whatever they’re seeking is more about symbolic power. Or maybe they plan to sell it to fund their operations.” Deanna tucked her notes into her mother’s journal, sat back on the sofa and waited for him.

  Bill shook his head and paced back and forth for a moment before facing her. “But what if it’s more? Something that can be weaponized like the smallpox virus that the Spaniards brought with them?”

  “Anything is possible,” she admitted. Raising her hands in question, she asked, “What’s next?”

  “We prep what we’ll show to Lopez and wait for him to call.”

  Lopez seemed in no rush to contact them. Morning faded into early afternoon with no word from him, which left them with only one thing to do since they had finished assembling the documents they would use as a lure.

  It was time to act as the loving couple out in public to bolster their false identities. A poolside lunch was just the thing to accomplish that.

  Deanna emerged from the bathroom in the bikini she had packed to find Bill easing on a tank top. While she would have preferred to spend lunch staring at the commanding strength in his body it would have revealed too many telltale signs that he was not the businessman he claimed to be.

  The tank top hid the bullet wound, knife scar and the bruising from his latest injury, but still allowed a marvelous view of those strong arms that had held her so gently throughout the night. Arms she wanted to wrap around her once again despite the many thoughts that had skipped through her brain since last night. Foremost amongst them was that she had asked for a no-strings-attached relationship and somehow now, she wanted more. Plus Bill was not the home-and-hearth type. At least she didn’t think he was although she was still in the getting-to-know him stage of their relationship. If they had a relationship, that was.

  Those thoughts didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat as he swept his glittering gray-blue gaze up and down her body. Her nipples tightened against the filmy fabric of her bikini top and she snared a wrap from the surface of the bed and tucked it around her sarong-style to try and hide the evidence of how easily he could arouse her.

  “Ready to go?” she asked and tried not to smile when he murmured his strangled acquiescence and shifted the suddenly not so loose fabric of his board-style bathing shorts.

  She followed him to the living space and grabbed a large tote bag that now held Bill’s laptop, the original journals and maps tucked into a safe watertight envelope along with the papers for Lopez. Lopez and his PM friends were likely watching them, so the hotel safe was no longer a secure location.

  Tucking the tote bag tight beneath her arm, she wrapped her arm around Bill. He held his Windbreaker, which hid his pistol and slipped his free arm around her. Together they ambled to the restaurant in the pool courtyard. There was a table for two at the edge of the eatery. As luck would have it, the t
able was in a high traffic area and not at all private, making them visible to everyone in the area.

  Perfect, Bill thought, surreptitiously examining the periphery from behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. He had clear views of the entire area and because of the layout of the pool and restaurant anyone spying on them would likewise see them. A possible security risk if someone wanted to take a shot at them, so as Bill draped his Windbreaker over the chair, he made sure to place the pocket with his pistol in easy reach. Deanna, who he had discovered was exceedingly quick on the uptake, carefully placed the tote bag beneath the table and between her feet where it would be difficult to grab.

  He took the chair next to hers and shifted closer, draping his arm over the back of her seat. Leaned close and nuzzled his nose along her cheek affectionately, playing up their role of a newly engaged couple. Deanna smiled and gazed up at him lovingly. Caressed the line of his jaw before brushing a kiss against his lips.

  He nearly groaned because even that simple action awoke almost painful desire. Dragging in a breath, he said loudly enough to be overheard, “Querida, I wish we were somewhere not so public.”

  “Amorcito, control yourself. I would like to see some of the city while we’re here,” she replied and reached beneath the table. Her hand rubbed across his thigh and this time he couldn’t contain the groan that erupted from him.

  A discreet cough broke them apart. Their waitress stood beside the table, menus in hand and a bemused smirk on her face. “May I get you something to drink while you decide? I suggest something nice and cold.”

  Bill ignored the sarcasm and shot a look at Deanna. “Some champagne?”

  “I guess you want to keep on celebrating.” For good measure, Deanna lifted her hand with the large diamond ring so it was visible to the waitress and added, “We just got engaged.”