Kotler had done a fair amount of weapons and personal combat training, over the years, and felt confident enough that he could take care of himself. He wasn't certain about Graham, but the man seemed capable, and was at least at ease here. Only time would tell, then.
They were given a tour of the camp proper, with Sarge and one of his men pointing out the “galley,” which was primarily the smoker and ice chests, and the latrine, which was literally a large hole with a mound of dirt and a shovel near at hand. It was well away from the camp and the food, but it had been encircled with walls made from vines, saplings, and felled trees, and a short fence of barbed wire around its perimeter. “Don't want to be caught with your pants at your ankles,” Sarge said, solemnly. Kotler and Denzel could only agree.
In time, they were also shown to where they could unload their gear and bunk out for the evening. Tent space was at a premium, so Kotler and Denzel once again found themselves as bunk mates. They at least each had their own cots—a fact that Denzel celebrated with an acknowledging grunt.
They had spent half the day driving and laboring their way through the jungle, but had arrived at the base camp in the early afternoon. “We have enough light left in the day to survey some of the city,” Graham said. “But I'd like us to save the tomb for the morning. It takes a bit of time to get inside, and I hadn't had the opportunity to search and clear all potential traps, when I was here last. I've cleared a path to where Ms. Hamilton's body was found. The forensic team took that, as they entered and exited.”
“How much of the tomb were they able to explore during their sweep?” Denzel asked.
“There's a roped-off area in that outer chamber, just outside the tomb proper,” Graham said. “There are side-branches to the corridor leading in, and those haven't been explored. We didn't even realize those passages were there until work lights were brought in for the forensic team. I doubt that Ms. Hamilton would have used any of them, but it's possible.”
“And the tomb itself,” Kotler said. “It's still sealed?”
Graham looked at him, and Kotler could see a sort of electricity in his expression. “As far as I know, it has never been opened. Not from lack of trying on Ms. Hamilton's part.” He shook his head, clearly picturing how frantic Maggie must have been as she desperately searched for a way out. “We found no tools, so I believe she must have used stones or some found objects to chip away at the edges around the door, but it's clear she never made it through. I haven't had the opportunity to search for a trigger. I don't know how to open it, just yet.”
“This isn't an archeological expedition,” Denzel reminded them.
Kotler and Graham both looked at him, and nodded, separately.
“Maybe not,” Graham said. “But it's obvious that Ms. Hamilton was desperate to get into that tomb. It's possible her only goal was escape, but we can't know that for sure, can we?”
Denzel sighed. “You sound like Kotler,” he said, a note of dismay in his voice.
Kotler chuckled, and Graham said nothing. It was possible, even likely, that he did not find the statement to be a compliment. Which amused Kotler all the more.
There was more at stake than the potential of discovering Viracocha's remains, it was true. But Kotler knew that Graham's primary concern wasn't Maggie's death, nor the presence of a biological weapon. Graham was on the hunt for a god.
Kotler didn't blame him. But there were two gods at play here.
And one of them was a god of death.
Chapter 9
They had explored the perimeter of the main temple, as far as they were able. The jungle had claimed all of what appeared to be a complete Mayan city, and Graham's team hadn't finished clearing it all away before Maggie's remains were discovered. Still, just the small portion they had revealed, through clearing back the tendrils of vines and the tangles of undergrowth, wielded revelations that made Kotler's pulse quicken.
For a start, the temple was in close proximity to at least two other buildings, smaller but similar in design. By his estimate, and through the use of the previously captured LIDAR imagery, Kotler determined that the arrangement here was similar to previously discovered triads of pyramids, temples, and other pre-Columbian structures throughout Central America. It was also identical to arrangements in other old-world cultures, most notably the three most famous pyramids in the world—those of Egypt, in the Giza plateau.
Graham confirmed Kotler's suspicion. “It is Orion, making his presence known again,” Graham nodded.
This pattern of three, with one “grand” pyramid or structure associated with two smaller structures, was repeated so often in ancient sites and ruins that it had become easily recognizable. Three structures, oriented in a diagonal line, with the third and smallest structure slightly out of alignment in relation to the others, and all correlating perfectly to a particular constellation in the sky—the three stars known as Orion's belt.
Because of this correlation, the triad procession of ancient structures had become known as the “Orion correlation theory,” put forward by Robert Bauval, a Belgian author and an expert on ancient Egyptian culture.
When Bauval had written about his hypothesis, in the late ‘80s, it had caused both excitement and controversy among Egyptologists and other academics. Many critics were quick to point out that in order to make the correlation work, Bauval had to “flip the map” of the ancient pyramids, so they would properly align with the constellation. They pointed to this as proof that Bauval's hypothesis was pure conjecture, unsupported, and unworthy of serious consideration.
Flipping the map had always seemed to Kotler, however, to be a small concession. The fact that the patterns did line up, and that there was a further association in the relationship of the pyramids to the Nile river, compared to Orion's position in relation to the Milky Way—well, Kotler didn't believe in pure coincidence, when it came to history and human culture. And any doubts he might have maintained were slowly being excised from him by the repeat appearance of the Orion correlation, worldwide.
If it had been only the Giza pyramids that had this relationship, he might have dismissed it, alongside his fellows. But Kotler had personally seen this pattern in no fewer than five ancient complexes, spread across Africa, Asia, Europe, and most recently the Americas. The veneer of “coincidence” was wearing thin.
Kotler made his own observations and notes about Xi'paal ‘ek Kaah, tapping them into his phone, to be reviewed later. He'd give Graham a report to add to the ongoing research. Kotler would be lucky to get a footnote, as part of the discovery, but that was fine by him. This wasn't his site, nor was it his discovery. For that matter, the discovery was being shared between Graham and young Henry Eagan, which Kotler believed was humbling enough for the archaeologist. No need to pummel his ego further.
To his credit, though, Graham seemed to have lost all sense of rivalry with Kotler, now that they were both here, together in the oppressive heat and humidity of Central America's jungles, and making their way through the ruins of this lost city. It was a sort of camaraderie of mission, with two supposed rivals unified by one ancient and incredible site, and the wonders it could reveal. It was a cease fire, of sorts, and Kotler was glad for it. He had no desire to engage in petty politics and ego bruising.
How long the cease fire might last was anyone's guess, of course. But Kotler was perfectly willing to play the role of “research consultant” on this exploration, and leave the glory to Graham. And to young mister Eagan, naturally.
As the sun started to dip below the line of the treetops, bringing what was sure to be a deep, dark nightfall, Kotler and Graham made their way back to camp. Denzel had abandoned them hours earlier, preferring to spend time talking to Sarge and his team of ex-soldiers, pulling out any details he could, regarding the discovery of Ms. Hamilton's remains, as well as anything they knew about the local guerrilla faction.
As evening began to settle on the camp, Kotler and Graham both availed themselves of the limited shower facilities
, with a gravity feed of water still warm from solar heaters. Sarge's men made regular runs to the local cenote, so there was little need to be overly conservative with water.
Still, it felt natural to be a bit more frugal and conservative, here in the jungle. The world outside of here was so chaotic and busy, and natural resources were taken for granted so frivolously, it felt wrong to impose that attitude on this untamed landscape.
Kotler allowed himself only a moment of hot water running wide open, washing soap from his body, and helping to ease the ache of strained muscles. He then shut the valve, dried himself, dressed, and returned to the tent he was sharing with Denzel.
He entered to find Denzel propped up on his cot, leaning against the fabric of the tent, which bulged outward but held him well enough. He was reading from a sheath of papers.
“Letters from home?” Kotler asked, smiling.
Denzel looked up, and actually returned the smile, which Kotler took as a good sign. Denzel's mood had been a bit gruff, since arriving in Chichén Itzá, and it was good to see that haze lift, if just a little.
“Activity reports from Sarge and his men,” Denzel said.
“Anything interesting?”
“Details on the three guerrilla attacks. I'm trying to spot a pattern.”
Kotler considered this. “It's unusual, isn't it?”
Denzel nodded. “One attack, I can understand. They may not have realized anyone was here. Maybe they were planning to come in and use this place as a headquarters. The second attack, that one also makes sense. Coming in hot to take back what was theirs. A turf battle.”
“But the third attack says something else,” Kotler said.
Denzel nodded. “There's something here they want, I think.”
“Ah-Puch?” Kotler asked.
Denzel thought about this. “I'm not sure. If Ah-Puch really is some kind of biological weapon, why are they after it? Why would they have left it here in the first place?”
“Good questions,” Kotler admitted. It was puzzling, for certain.
For starters, Kotler was beginning to doubt the idea that the temple and the surrounding city had been some sort of guerrilla campsite. At least, he doubted it had been used as such recently.
In their exploration of the fringes of the city, it had become clear, very quickly, that some areas were impassable. From the descriptions Graham gave, it was likely this had been the case when he and his people had penetrated the city from the jungle. The growth and tangles had been dense and unwelcoming, and had required hacking and cutting just to make a path to get in, not to mention clearing space for a campsite.
So how had the guerrillas gotten here, before Graham himself had cut a trail? How had they camped here, prior to the existence of this clearing? By all indications, there had been years of jungle growth covering this spot.
Graham had explained that shell casings and a few other bits of evidence were found on the grounds surrounding the temple, as his team had cleared the undergrowth to make camp. The logical explanation, then, was that this had been a clearing once before, and likely made by the guerillas themselves.
But all signs pointed to the fact that for five years, at least, this place had been left to the wild, without a soul making an appearance. The jungle had reclaimed it, as the jungle always did, and the space where the guerrillas had once made camp had been overrun by foliage, until the day that Graham's team arrived.
Guerrilla fighters had camped here, five years ago, but had vacated suddenly? Leaving only expended shell casings and piles of ash behind?
It seemed as though an important detail was missing, and it nagged at Kotler.
He shared the information he'd gotten from Graham, and Denzel noted key facts in his notebook.
“So you're saying the guerrillas who are attacking this site aren't the same guerrillas who may have kidnapped Maggie Hamilton?” Denzel asked.
Kotler shrugged. “Details are too sketchy to jump to any real conclusions, but I'd put my money on that.”
“So what are these guys after?” Denzel asked.
Kotler had no immediate answers for that question, and no theories as to why they had started their attacks when they had. It seemed an odd coincidence, that the attacks began just after Graham and his people left the site, after leading a team of forensic specialists through the ruins.
How common was that knowledge—that Graham's team of ‘civvies' was no longer on site? It was possible that the first guerrilla incursion had occurred because they thought the site would be abandoned again, and they hadn't counted on Sarge and his men being around. But each successive attack made it more unlikely that this was just bad timing.
Kotler and Denzel chatted about this and other ideas, trying to cover any possibilities with at least a theory or supposition. They would learn more, they agreed, as they pushed their way into the temple in the morning. For now, the evening was growing darker, and they sought out the campfire and a hot meal, alongside the off-duty men of the camp.
They ate and chatted with Sarge and his men, swapping war stories, and even recounting the events from Pueblo, for the benefit of Dr. Graham. It was a pleasant evening, though Kotler was looking forward to retiring to his cot and getting an early start the next morning.
From the jungle, then, a series of rifle bursts broke the camaraderie of the camp fire.
Every man was up at once, armed, and making their way to the fringes of the camp, hunched and ready for whatever was coming. Denzel had his own weapon drawn, and motioned for Kotler and Graham to stay with him as he moved to take cover behind one of the military surplus vehicles.
Kotler drew his own weapon, and glanced at Graham, who did the same. Graham looked a bit unsteady and unnerved, as the gunfire erupted all around them, but Kotler watched him steel himself, his expression becoming grim and determined. Kotler turned away, putting his attention back on the impending battle.
“We stay here and stay low,” Denzel said. “Sarge's men can handle this.”
Kotler nodded, and peered around the side of the transport, into the darkness of the jungle.
The weapons fire was occasionally punctuated by the screams of injured men, and Kotler felt his blood pumping. It was impossible to know, from this vantage point, whether it was the guerrillas or Sarge's men, bellowing out there in the darkness. There was no way to know how many guerrillas were present, out in the tangles and underbrush of the jungle. Sarge's team was well trained and well-armed, but they were also finite in number, and on the enemy's home turf. It was always possible they could be overwhelmed.
Kotler caught a glint of something, in the tree line. He alerted Denzel, and the two of them peered into the wall of darkness, looking for any sign of someone closing in.
A figure stepped out of the jungle, dressed in camo, but with sleeves cut away and an olive-green bandana covering his head like a dew rag. He was crouched low, and carrying an aged AK-47 that looked like it was a prop from the set of a war film.
The man swept the scene, thankfully missing sight of Kotler and Denzel, and then motioned to the darkness. Two more men followed him into the firelight.
Denzel signaled Kotler and Graham, and the three of them leaned back. “We'll have to take them out,” he whispered.
Kotler nodded. Graham, sweating but looking grim and determined, also nodded.
Denzel took the lead, and the three of them timed a sprint from the back of the transport to the galley area, taking cover behind the steel canister of the smoker. From this vantage point, they could see the three guerillas clearly. They were keeping a low profile, avoiding contact with the contingent of Sarge's men who had been left as guard. It would only be a matter of time before one group discovered the other, but Kotler and his companions would, hopefully, put the bad guys down before they could cause any harm.
What surprised Kotler was the fact that these men were here at all. Their presence started to feel like a setup—the jungle attack was a distraction, to give these three men the
opening they needed to get into the camp. It seemed likely, Kotler realized, that these three had snuck to the border of the camp and waited for the fighting to start, to cover them as they made their way in.
They were looking for something.
“Spread out, when I give the signal,” Denzel said. “We'll flank them. Try to take them without killing them. But if they fire on you, don't hesitate. Take cover, return fire, and take them out.”
Kotler glanced again at Graham, who was sweating and nervous, gripping his weapon with white knuckles. He might know the dangers of this place, and he might have come well-armed, but it was obvious he wasn't experienced in combat. Kotler determined to keep an eye on the man, just in case.
Denzel motioned for them to move, spreading out in three prongs and making their way around the galley area, taking up better positions.
The three guerrillas were now searching crates and containers stored near one of the tents. Two of them stood guard while the third opened up everything he could find.
Denzel caught Kotler's attention, motioned forward, and nodded.
Suddenly, Denzel sprang to his feet, leveling his weapon on the three men. “Down!” he shouted. “Lower your weapons!”
The two guards immediately started to fire, before even realizing where Denzel was. Denzel didn't even bother taking cover, as the wild shots rang off into the night. Instead, he took aim, and shot one of the two in the shoulder, knocking him back.
Kotler aimed and took down the second guard, hitting him in the chest. It had been a tough shot, from Kotler's angle, and he was lucky to have made the target at all. He hoped the man would survive.
The third man spun, and took cover behind the crates he'd been looting. He raised his weapon, and a rhythmic burst erupted, peppering everything in sight with round after round.
The Girl in the Mayan Tomb Page 9