“Sounds like you have that all figured out then,” Denzel said, smiling.
Dawson nodded, returning the smile.
Denzel was about to hand them off to one of Sarge's men and go see to the two arriving agents when Knoll rushed forward.
“You'd better come with me,” Knoll said. “There's a problem.”
* * *
Sarge and two of his men were already standing outside of the door of the tomb, puzzling over the carvings. Denzel approached, kneeling beside them to inspect the ornate stone.
It was getting darker as the sun dipped below the line of the jungle, and evening began to settle in. The mosquitoes were already making their nightly appearance, buzzing and dive-bombing everyone in pestering swarms.
“We've tried the trigger a few times,” Sarge said. “No joy.”
“What happened?” Denzel asked.
“One of my boys was right here, checking the generator and batteries, when the door slammed shut like knees on a prom date,” Sarge grumbled. “Power lines were sheared, so it's gonna be pretty dark in there.”
“And the trigger isn't working?”
“Door won't budge,” Sarge said.
Denzel considered this for a moment. “What about air?”
“They should be good,” said the man next to Sarge. “It's not exactly air tight in there, in the first place, but it's also been open and ventilated for weeks. It's a large space, plenty of air for two people.”
Denzel shook his head. “Kotler must have triggered something,” he said.
“How do you know it wasn't Graham?” Sarge asked.
Denzel scoffed. “Because I know Kotler.” He considered. “Can we blast it open?”
Sarge shook his head, and held up his fist, counting off points one thick finger at a time. “First, my contract is to protect the site as much as to protect the people, so I have to be careful. If I damage anything, I'll have an army of squints playing proctologist on my backside for a month. Second, I'd normally say screw it anyway and blow it up to get those men out, but Dr. Graham already pointed out that the whole place is a little unstable. That might bring it down on them. And third, we have a few shaped charges, but that door alone is about four feet thick, and the walls are thicker. It'd take a lot to get through it, and a charge big enough would definitely bring on points one and two.”
Denzel considered this, and shook his head. Kotler's ability to get himself into these sorts of scenarios was uncanny. Though, he had to admit, so was his ability to get himself back out of them again. Chances were that Kotler was busy on the other side of that door, figuring out a solution to all of this.
If he was still alive.
That wasn't productive thinking. Denzel knew that in a crisis, it was better to assume positives. Hope for the best, plan for the worst, but operate as if the plans are going to work. Negative thinking led to hesitation and second guessing, which was more dangerous than barreling ahead with no plan at all.
Of course, that assumed there actually was a plan. Kotler might be actively working from inside, attempting to escape with Dr. Graham in tow. But they'd need a plan on this side of the door as well. And from where Denzel stood, options seemed slim.
Sarge's man had been the only witness, and Denzel started peppering him with questions. What had made the door close in the first place? Was there any warning before it closed? Had there been any other effects or activity?
But the answers were few, and not entirely helpful. The man had only been standing by, inspecting the generator and batteries, and really going nowhere near the stone door or anything else. “I'm sorry,” the mercenary said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I have no idea what happened.”
Denzel turned and once again studied the temple entrance, contemplating their options, few as they were.
“Agent Denzel?”
Denzel turned to see Liz Ludlum. He'd been aware that she'd followed him to the tomb door, but she had remained quiet and had hung back as the others had talked and continued to test the door.
“I'm not an archaeologist,” Liz said, “but I've studied Dr. Kotler's work, and Dr. Graham's. I think we'd be safe to assume that if the external trigger isn't opening the door, then it's locked from the inside.”
“You're saying there may be no way to reopen it from out here?” Denzel asked.
Liz shook her head. “I'm saying this door may be locked from the inside. There may be a way to unlock it from out here, we can't be sure. There may be another door, though. A hidden entrance. Or really, a hidden exit. An escape hatch, in case someone was trapped inside.”
Denzel thought about this, and turned to Sarge. “How much of this city has Graham uncovered?”
Sarge, chomping an unlit cigar, shrugged. “Hard to say. Most of it's tangled up in jungle growth. Maybe 20%?”
Denzel shook his head. “That leaves way too much to explore on our own, especially without the two experts to guide us.”
“Not to mention these things are full of traps,” Sarge said, waving his cigar toward the temple. “We'd stand just as much chance of being skewered as finding the back door.”
Liz spoke up. “There might be a way to narrow it down.” She pointed to one of the upper levels of the temple. “There's a fountain up there, and it looks like it used to feed into the little channels that line the roads. Probably a decorative water feature.”
Denzel shook his head. “I don't follow,” he said.
“If there's a fountain up there, it had to get water from somewhere. Probably from a natural source, channeled through stone pipes that have been blocked by jungle growth. If we can find the source, we might find a way into the tomb.”
Denzel frowned. “Seems like a stretch.”
Liz nodded. “I know. But it's a lead, isn't it? Do we have any others?”
Denzel and Sarge exchanged looks.
“There's the cenote, not far from here,” Sarge said.
“A cenote would probably tie in to a natural cavern,” Liz said. “That seems like the most likely option for an escape tunnel. The people who built this temple would have likely used existing natural caverns for passage ways, and built the temple on top of those.”
Denzel looked her over for a moment, and shook his head. “You may be more Kotler than Kotler is,” he said.
She smiled, and shook her head. “I'm all me, Agent Denzel.”
Chapter 16
Graham and Kotler started early the next morning, first turning on the work lights and entering the antechamber, just as they had the day before. After several contemplative minutes in the antechamber, Kotler surveyed the space and sighed. “John, I'm just not sure we're being productive in here. There's something we're missing. The trigger may not be a physical switch.”
“And what does that mean, precisely?” Graham asked, a strange edge to his tone.
Kotler looked at him, and saw that this might be challenging. Graham was convinced the trigger was somewhere within the antechamber, but Kotler had been taken with Denzel's suggestion—that perhaps the stone door of the tomb was meant to remain sealed, for reasons that might not be evident within the antechamber itself.
However, Kotler believed that was only partly true. Graham was right, that the presence of an ornately and intricately designed door, even the presence of the tomb itself, meant that there was a reasonable expectation of someone entering, at some point. No one builds a path unless they expect others to follow.
Kotler was reminded of a few current yet controversial theories regarding the ancient pyramids of Giza.
Some argued that the mere presence of certain features, such as the apocryphally named King's Chamber and Queen's Chamber of the Great Pyramid, were indications in and of themselves that these spaces were meant to be explored. In fact, the overall design and placement of the pyramids, according to this theory, was a signal to future generations: Explore this space.
After all, why place three giant pyramid structures out in the open, where they were sure to
be spotted by anyone who happened by, if the goal was to hide a tomb and its treasure for eternity? The three pyramids, alongside the Great Sphinx, could not be more titillating and inviting if they bore signs proclaiming, “treasure within, no guards on duty.”
This new consideration led many archaeologists and Egyptian experts to speculate that whoever crafted these structures—and it was absolutely certain that it was not the Ancient Egyptians—had intended from the start that they be discovered and explored and, eventually, understood for their true purpose.
The theory was growing in popularity, though Kotler would admit that not all of his colleagues embraced it with open arms. The mystique and charm of the pyramids as an ancient secret, meant to be hidden away in the sands of both the desert and of time itself, was too alluring. It held too much sway.
Still, Kotler found the theory appealing, which he was sure would come as no surprise to Graham. Unlike many of his compatriots in the field, Kotler believed that most ancient cultures were far more savvy about their place in history than many would believe.
The tendency to think of the pyramids, or of the ancient Egyptian culture itself, as being some sort of fluke, generated by an undeveloped and unsophisticated culture seemed absurd to him. These were a people who clearly understood science, mathematics, astronomy, possibly even physics. Certainly they had an understanding of biology, as evidenced by the infamous mummies themselves.
Kotler had put more stock into the theory of “the third party” than most others in his field would ever feel comfortable with, and for the simple fact that Kotler had seen too much evidence in support of the idea. Antiquity, as they knew it, seemed certainly to have evolved from something lost to history.
Given that insight, Kotler's view was that ancient Egyptians, and many other ancient cultures, including the Mayans, would certainly be aware that generations of minds would follow them. It made perfect sense to leave a message of some kind. The pyramids, by Kotler's estimate, were part of that message. By all appearances, they were meant to be discovered, and were an invitation for exploration.
The same could be said for Xi'paal ek Kaah, as well as the temple, the tomb, and the ornate stone door, now before them.
If the tomb did contain the remains of Viracocha, Kotler thought, it seemed unfathomable that the high priests and designers of this structure wouldn't want to be able to have access to those remains again, at some point. The dead held power, in Mayan culture. Powerful dead, in particular, were to be kept close at hand. It was beyond credulity that those in power in the Mayan culture would want to forever block passage to the remains of such a powerful figure.
“A little over a year ago, Agent Denzel and I were investigating a series of events that led to … an archeological site, on an island in the Indian Ocean.” That was as much as Kotler felt he could safely share about the site that was potentially the lost city of Atlantis, given its continuing exploration, and its ties to an ongoing Federal investigation. “While exploring the city, we came to a door, much like this one. The key to opening that door was a set of stones, which connected to each other via magnets, embedded within.”
“Magnets,” Graham said flatly, looking skeptical.
Kotler nodded. “It was ingenious, really. The magnets were arranged not only to hold the two stones together, but were aligned so that their poles alternated in a pattern that could match the pattern of magnets within the door. When placed just right, all the like and opposing poles lined up, and cylinders of magnets within the door were either pushed away or pulled forward, like tumblers in a lock. Once they reached their sheer point, the door could be opened.”
Graham considered this, and glanced at the ornate door before them. “Intriguing,” he said, quietly, distracted by the idea.
Kotler gave a light smile. “The point, of course, is that the trigger to open that door wasn't directly connected to the door itself. It was an outside object. Or objects, combined.”
“So you believe that the key to this door could be something similar? A literal key, rather than a trigger we can access from this room?”
“This antechamber seems ceremonial to me,” Kotler said, glancing around, clicking on his small LED flashlight and passing its beam over various details of the room. “I think this was a sacred space, because of its proximity to the tomb. But I suspect that the way in to the tomb itself was never here. If this was used as a ceremonial space, whoever built it might not want anyone to have direct access to the contents of the tomb.”
“So there may be a key,” Graham said, reaching reflexively to stroke the carved patterns of the door. “Do you see anything that might indicate that, here?”
Kotler peered closer at the details of the door.
The carvings were typical of Mayan stonework, really. Despite the fact that a prominent character was carved into the door leading to the corridor, there seemed to be no such prominence here. There was certainly an art present, in the details, and it hinted at reverence for whatever lay on the other side of the door. But there was no sign of Viracocha, or any other Mayan god. And certainly none of the symbolism associated with Ah-Puch.
Except …
Kotler leaned in to inspect the carvings. He had, by now, fairly memorized them. There were twists and curls and zig-zags adorning the stone, much like any Kotler had seen at other Mayan dig sites. There were also animals—lizards and birds, primarily. He studied one of these now.
“Graham, would you agree that this carving looks like an owl?”
Graham leaned in, and promptly turned on his flashlight, playing it over the surface of the door, lighting the design Kotler indicated.
It was subtle, but buried in the finer details of feathers and swirls of the stone Kotler was able to make out two distinct circles, two pointed ears, a small beak …
“I'll be damned,” Graham said.
In Mayan mythology, Kotler knew, the owl was closely associated with the afterlife. There was a great deal of speculation and professional disagreement about why this was so, but one fact was certain: Owls were considered to be symbols of death, among the prominent ancient cultures of Mesoamerica.
And Ah-Puch was the Mayan god of death.
“It's been here, right in front of me, the whole time,” Graham said. He looked up at Kotler. “Zebras, as you said.”
Kotler nodded. “I missed it too,” he said. “I was so busy thinking of this as Viracocha's tomb, it never occurred to me that …”
He paused, glancing at Graham, who had squinted his features and rested his forehead on the fingers of his left hand, rubbing gently. “That this wasn't the tomb of Viracocha, after all,” he said. He stood straighter then, and shook his head. “But why is Viracocha carved into the entrance to this antechamber?”
Kotler considered this. “Well … he was the creator god. A god of life, if you consider it one way.”
Graham cursed, and turned away from the tomb door in disgust. “You're right, of course. It means that the doorway to this antechamber wasn't an indication of the contents of the tomb at all. It was a ward, meant to keep Ah-Puch locked inside.”
He looked again at Kotler. “Your friend, Agent Denzel. He was right.”
Kotler nodded. “As far as he went,” he said. “He's right that the tomb is locked to prevent anyone from getting in. Or, rather, to prevent Ah-Puch from getting out. But you're right, too, John. This door wouldn't be here, this space wouldn't be here, if someone hadn't wanted to have continued access to it. There's a key. Now, all we have to do is find it.”
“And enter the tomb of the god of death?” Graham asked.
Kotler considered this. “Let's find the key first,” he said, “and then decide whether we should use it.”
They backtracked into the corridor, until they came to the side tunnel that had, so far, been ignored by Graham and his team.
“I meant to come back to this, once I had unlocked and entered Viracocha's … or rather Ah-Puch's tomb,” Graham said, shaking his head. “It n
ever occurred to me that this passage might be the key to getting inside.”
The entrance to the tunnel was recessed, among similar looking alcoves carved into the wall of the passageway. It would be easy to miss, particularly if one were moving through the main passage in near darkness, with only torchlight illuminating the path. Graham and his team had only discovered the passage when installing the lines of work lights, which had helped to illuminate and reveal the opening.
They stood before that opening now, peering into the maw of it, unable to penetrate the deep darkness by more than a few feet.
Kotler paused, feeling his nerves a bit. He wasn't given to being afraid of the dark. He'd spent quite a bit of time crawling around in dark and tight spaces, in his career. He knew, however, that Mayan structures could be riddled with traps—many of which were as clever as they were deadly. The dangers of the dark, here in this place, were very real.
“This will be slow going,” Graham said, glancing at him in the glare of the hanging work lights. “We'll need to use flashlights, for now. Once we've vetted a path through, we can come back and hang a line of work lights. I also have an electric lantern in my pack, which can help if we need to illuminate a larger space.”
Kotler nodded, and clicked on his flashlight. “We'll take it slow,” he agreed.
In turn, each of them entered the passage, with Kotler following behind Graham. They stepped carefully, measuring every forward inch in sweeps of light. Graham had a collapsible pole—the sort most often used as a camera's monopod or, more recently, as a “selfie stick” for taking photos at greater than arm's length. This one, however, was of the more durable variety, to be used as a walking stick, to help hikers stabilize while moving over uneven terrain.
Graham tapped the rubber-capped end of the walking stick on the ground and the walls ahead of them as they moved, testing for any trigger that might bring the roof or walls in on them, or otherwise engage some sort of trap, snare, or pitfall. More than once, they came to a spot in the floor that Graham suspected was a trigger. They would stop and carefully clear the spot of any loose debris, and Graham would take out a small can of bright orange spray paint. He would mark each spot with an “X.”
The Girl in the Mayan Tomb Page 15