“It's water soluble,” he said, catching Kotler's expression after the first use. “No permanent damage done. It's a bit like spraying chalk onto the ground.”
Kotler nodded. Neither of them had any wish to permanently mar this structure, of course.
This went on for quite some time—hours, in fact, as Kotler and Graham painstakingly inched their way along in the darkness. It was tense work, and made no easier by the knowledge that they could potentially reach the end of this tunnel and find nothing useful at all.
At one point, they stopped to rest in a cleared area of the passage. “This shouldn't carry on much further,” Graham said.
“What makes you say that?” Kotler asked, taking a sip of water from his canteen.
“The temple structure itself doesn't extend much further from this point, by my estimate. This passage could extend well beyond its walls, of course. But I believe that if there is a trigger to open the door of the tomb, they'd keep it close enough to be convenient. It's taken us quite a bit of time to crawl through this passage, but if someone knew the location of any triggers and traps, they could cover the distance we've covered much more quickly.”
“Assuming there's a trigger, and not some object that would be used as a literal key,” Kotler said.
“We found nothing in the antechamber to suggest that there was a key,” Graham sniffed. “No ‘key hole.'”
Kotler nodded. “That's true. So there's a good chance that what we're looking for really will be some kind of trigger. They did use one on the entrance to the temple.” Kotler thought for a moment, considering. “I think you're right.”
“The end of this passage should be just up ahead.” Graham raised his flashlight, shining it into the remaining length of the tunnel. “I believe we're on a downward grade,” he said. “The floor disappears at the line of the ceiling, up ahead, in the distance.”
Kotler added his light, inspecting the path and ceiling, noting that there definitely was a point at which their view of the floor became obstructed.
This was interesting, because ancient builders tended to favor the grade of the existing landscape, when designing a large structure. It was far more laborious to excavate a tunnel than to use an existing cavern, and tunnels required additional supports, to keep the ceiling away from the floor at all times.
Kotler passed his light over the walls and ceiling, noting for the first time that, though there were certainly carvings and other indications of human intervention, the tunnel itself did appear to be natural in origin. He couldn't detect any support columns or beams, which meant this was much more likely to be a natural corridor. It had been coopted by the temple builders, then, and used for their purposes.
Kotler thought for a moment. “There's a local cenote close by, isn't there?”
Graham nodded. “Less than a mile from here. Sarge and his men use it to replenish water supplies.”
Kotler nodded. “I think we're moving in a natural system of caverns, that might eventually link up to that cenote,” he said. He then shivered. “Of course, it's also possible that any one of these traps we're encountering could fill this corridor with water, trapping and drowning us here.”
Graham considered this. “That does seem possible,” he agreed, gravely.
“Let's not trip any of those,” Kotler said.
“Let's not,” Graham agreed.
Having rested and refreshed themselves, they got back to it. They'd been at this for hours now, but they were making good progress, in Kotler's estimate. And as they descended along the slope of the corridor, it became clear they were nearing the end.
The tunnel suddenly opened into a large cavern, which had been adorned with carvings along its stone walls. Painted figures emerged as Kotler and Graham played light over the space.
“Incredible,” Kotler said, his voice quieted with awe.
“I've rarely seen anything like it,” Graham responded, equally reverent. “It's intact. Every carving seems complete. Even the paint seems as if it were applied only a month ago.”
“Look,” Kotler said, nodding to where the pool of his flashlight illuminated a small, stone structure.
“An altar!” Graham said, smiling.
“And a good sign,” Kotler replied. “It has some of the same carvings as the tomb door.”
They moved to the altar, careful to watch for any triggers in the floor. For the next several minutes, each man swept for any sign of traps on and around the altar, clearing away any bit of debris, though there was little of that. The chamber was remarkably well preserved, showing very little sign of the kind of damage found in the antechamber. Whatever tectonic impact the temple may have suffered, it seemed to have mercifully left this chamber intact.
They continued their hunt for any traps or other dangers. They were meticulous, inspecting every corner, ever crease, every stone. Finally, the floor and nearby walls checked and vetted, they concentrated on exploring the altar itself.
It was a rectangular stone structure, approximately 1.2 meters tall from the floor to its top surface, and 1.5 by .9 meters to each side. The top was smooth, with only the lightly roughed texture of the stone from which it had been hewn. It showed signs of either having been polished, as part of the construction of the altar, or having been worn smooth with frequent use—it was difficult to tell, without spending more time studying it.
The side panels of the altar were intricately carved, and indeed bore the same symbols and flourishes as the tomb door. Kotler took this as a good sign, and stooped to inspect the carvings closer, holding his flashlight steady as he studied the markings.
Suddenly the room became brighter, and Kotler looked up to see that Graham had removed the electric lantern from his pack. He fiddled with it, expanding a collapsible cloth diffusion box that helped spread the light evenly around the room. He took a small tripod out of his bag, and to this he mounted the walking stick, screwing it to the top of the tripod base. The lantern hung from this the walking stick, raising it high enough to fill the room with light.
“Handy,” Kotler said.
“I only wish I had more of them,” Graham replied.
With better lighting, Kotler was able to stow his flashlight, freeing up both hands. He reached out gingerly, touching the tips of his fingers to the patterns of carved stone, tracing the rise and fall of their ridges, winding in intricate and intriguing patterns. The detail was incredible—calling into question the conventional thinking that these people lacked the tools or sophistication of civilizations such as ancient Egypt. The Mayans, and in fact all of the cultures of Mesoamerica, had a remarkable facility for intricate stone work, and an incredibly heightened sensibility for artistry.
Graham was also inspecting details on one of the altar's panels. He fished into the pocket of his jacket and removed a weathered Moleskine notebook. Flipping through this, he found whatever passage he was looking for. He held it up to the carvings he was studying, letting the light fall freely on the pages.
He tapped a spot on the altar with his index finger. “This part is an exact match to a section of the tomb door,” Graham said. “It includes one of the owl's eyes.”
“Only the eye?” Kotler asked.
Graham nodded. “There's a feather motif that coils outward from here, but the eye is the only part of the owl that is an exact match.”
“Wasn't the trigger to open the main passage embedded in the eye of Viracocha?” Kotler asked.
Graham nodded, thinking. “And the owl is a death symbol. It would make sense that the eye of Viracocha was the key to entering the antechamber, but the eye of Ah-Puch would be the key to entering the tomb itself. This could be the trigger for the tomb door.”
“Or,” Kotler said, “to play devil's advocate—it could set off a deluge of water, bring the ceiling in on us, or some other deadly trap. It's a symbol of the god of death, after all.”
“What do you suggest?” Graham asked.
Kotler thought for a moment, then shook his h
ead. “I'm inclined to try it,” he said.
Graham stared at him for a moment. “It's incredible to me that you have had such a long and prosperous life,” He said. He then sighed deeply. “The things I do for historic exploration,” he said, and then he reached out and put the fingers of his right hand on the eye of the owl, giving it a push.
There was a click, and from somewhere in the vast stretch of the temple, they could hear and feel a rumbling.
They braced themselves, but no flood came. No arrows pierced their bodies. No spikes or heavy stones dropped from the ceiling.
Kotler looked around, and finally let out a breath. “Well … I, for one, feel it's good to be alive.”
“Do you think this opened the tomb door?” Graham asked, still appearing a bit wary and ready for the roof to cave in.
Kotler shrugged, “Only one way to know for sure.”
He reached to grab his pack, fishing out his flashlight as Graham started to put away the lantern. He stopped, staring at the altar.
“Hey,” he said.
Graham looked up from collapsing and folding the diffusion box.
“That gap wasn't there before, was it?” Kotler nodded to the altar. The top had moved a few centimeters, revealing a gap in the stone. Graham brought the lantern closer, and they were able to peer inside.
With the light illuminating the darkness within the altar, they could make out a familiar sight.
“Steps,” Graham said, astonished.
“It's a passageway,” Kotler replied, nodding. After a moment, he said, “And likely the real entrance to the tomb of Ah-Puch.”
“What do you mean? We know where the door to the tomb is,” Graham said.
Kotler shook his head. “Zebras, John. Remember? We know where a door is. Or what appears to be a door.”
Graham thought about this for a moment. “You're saying the ornate door is a decoy?” He asked.
“Could be,” Kotler said, shrugging. “It would make sense, wouldn't it? What better way to keep people from entering the tomb, than to put up a fake entrance that can't be opened? Remember all those chips and scratches? Those guerrillas gave it a good go. Surely they didn't just give up. They must have come to the conclusion that the door couldn't be opened …”
“Because it isn't a door,” Graham said.
Kotler again shrugged.
Graham shook his head. “It certainly makes more sense than having the trigger to open that door hidden in a spot that isn't altogether close by. But if you're right, then we may have just opened the tomb of the Mayan god of death, here in this room. That could have repercussions,” he said.
“So, you're saying it's too late to worry about that now, and we should go ahead and enter?” Kotler grinned.
“It is astounding to me that you are not buried in the rubble of some collapsed archeological site,” Graham responded.
“Been there, done that,” Kotler said, kneeling to inspect the top of the altar. “I can see a pivot point, on the far end. This stone is meant to swing away. there's a grip of some sort on the inside. Whoever used this, meant to be able to close it behind as they entered.”
“All the same,” Graham said, “I would prefer to bring some spelunking equipment on this particular exploration.”
“You have some?” Kotler asked.
“Back at the camp,” Graham nodded. “It wouldn't hurt to bring in some provisions, as well, including a line of power from the generator. We can light the passage to this place, to make it easier to avoid the triggers we've marked.”
Kotler considered this. Though he was all for venturing forward, he knew it was smarter and safer to go in prepared. He wasn't particularly reckless, after all. Not as a rule.
“We can fill in Roland, as well,” Kotler said. “This is good progress.”
With that, they pulled their packs on, and made their way back down the corridor, stepping around the orange X's that marked the spot of each trap trigger.
They had been walking for a few minutes when Graham said, “Something is wrong.”
Kotler had been concentrating on his feet, making sure he knew where each step was going, and that it was not coming anywhere close to the orange X's in his path. He looked up to see Graham shining his flashlight into the deep darkness ahead.
“What is it?” Kotler asked.
“We should be seeing the work lights by now,” Graham said.
Kotler blinked. It was true—by this point in the tunnel, they should at least be able to see the glow of the LED work lights. “Do you think the batteries ran down?”
“The generator would have kicked on,” Graham said.
They didn't say another word as they picked up the pace. They walked side-by-side, each sweeping the floor ahead, warning each other as they came close to any of the triggers. Finally, Kotler saw something yellow and reflective, about a meter from the floor. It was the strip of yellow tape that lined the tunnel to the tomb.
“What happened to the lights?” Graham asked, standing in the middle of the main corridor, passing the circle of his flashlight beam along the line of dimmed work lights hanging from either side of the tunnel.
Kotler had an uneasy feeling. “Let's get back to camp,” he said.
They moved at a quicker pace now. The passage here was free of traps and triggers, and the going was much easier and safer. They were making rapid progress when they came to the main door of the tunnel, stopping short and staring.
The door was closed.
Graham stepped forward, and started passing his hands over the stone surface of the door, which was smooth on this side, completely free of carvings.
Kotler stood back, but moved his flashlight over the wall and the door. He stopped when he saw what he was looking for.
The power cables that supplied electricity to the work lights had been severed—sheared between the wall of the entrance and the stone of the door as it had swung closed, pinching the cables. The precise dimensions between the door and the doorway were so close, it had been like a large pair of stone scissors, cutting the power cables and letting them drop to the floor.
“Well,” Kotler said, “that doesn't look like good news.”
Graham gave him a look, and shook his head slightly. He stepped with confidence up to the door and stopped to place his hand on what looked like an inconspicuous, slight protrusion of stone, near the floor. It looked for all the world like any random blemish in a roughhewn surface. Graham gave this a push, and Kotler heard a click from within the wall.
And nothing happened.
Confused, Graham clicked it again, with the same lack of result.
“We're trapped!” Graham said. “This is the trigger to open and close the door from the inside. It's never failed before.”
“So you don't know any other way to open it?” Kotler asked, the dread creeping back.
Graham shook his head, feeling around the edges of the door more frantically now, searching for another possible trigger.
“Not good news at all, then,” Kotler said.
Chapter 17
Denzel selected two men to go with him—Chet Knoll, and Agent Walter Hicks. Both had SCUBA training, which might be necessary. Knoll knew the area best, including the temple and tomb itself. Hicks had also done some spelunking in his day, and had explored caves both in and out of water, and in Central America, which was a bonus.
“I'm going too,” Liz Ludlum said.
“Absolutely not,” Denzel replied. “Too dangerous.”
“I'm the one who gave you this lead,” Liz pointed out. “You might need me.”
Denzel considered it, but shook his head. “We'll be in radio contact. If we have questions, we'll ask. Otherwise, we'll just have to be clever on our own. I need you here to do your job, and to assist Dr. Dawson. There's a bigger danger facing the world. We need to identify whatever biological agent might be in the hands of the bad guys, and find a way to stop it.”
“He's right,” Dawson said. She had joined the
m as they made preparations. “The mobile bio lab is set up and all of the equipment is in place. I have the samples that Dr. Kotler collected. I need your help, Liz.”
Liz looked from her to Denzel, and finally nodded.
Denzel turned to Sarge and Agent Wilson. “We still need to find those guerrillas, and that statue,” he said.
“I've been coordinating with field agents in Valladolid and in Chichén Itzá, keeping an eye on the airport. Mexican authorities are monitoring other airports and exits.”
Sarge made a guttural noise. “That oughta be real productive,” he grumbled. “The Mexicans have done a hell of a job keeping drug runners and coyotes from crossin' the border.” He puffed his cigar, sending a billow of smoke out of his nostrils that engulfed the heads of everyone around him. “I got my boys diggin' up the jungle in every direction, seeing if these maggots will turn up.”
Denzel nodded. “I appreciate that. We can use all the help we can get.”
Sarge scoffed. “Ain't doing it for you, in particular. Those toilet brushes came into my camp and took something right out from under my nose, and that don't smell too pretty to me. But … yeah, we'll do what we gotta do to put this down. Savin' the world and all that. Renaissance men stuff.”
Liz Ludlum made as if to correct Sarge on his usage, but backed down when Denzel gave a brief shake of his head.
“I appreciate the help all the same,” Denzel said.
He turned to Knoll and Hicks. “We don't know for certain that this is the way in. It has the best shot, though. I just want to make it clear that this could be dangerous. So lids up, and keep alert.”
“No problem,” Knoll said. “The last thing I want is to be skewered like a kabob on some Mayan trap.”
The Girl in the Mayan Tomb Page 16