Graham had been showing signs of strain for the past 48 hours. The firefight, it seemed, had taken more of a toll than Kotler had realized. Graham, normally as calm and reserved as they come, had started to crack. And Kotler, normally alert to the subtle shifts in body language in those around him, had missed all the signs.
“John,” Kotler said, making no attempt to move forward. “You're not seriously going to shoot me in the name of protecting me, are you?”
Graham paused. Despite the current predicament, he was a rational man, after all. Reason still held some sway.
Not enough, it seemed.
Graham lifted the weapon and motioned to the main corridor. “Move, Kotler. We're going to that altar. We're … we're going to do something.”
Kotler eyed him, taking measure of him, and then turned and marched down the corridor, toward the front entrance of the tomb and, of course, the hidden entrance to the side passage.
He wanted to believe that his was a temporary lapse in judgment, and that Graham had no intention of shooting him. But he had read Graham, in that moment prior to being ordered to walk. There were signs of barely contained hysteria in his friend. Signs that he was close to breaking.
How had Kotler missed it?
He was too close, perhaps. Too distracted by their predicament. Or he'd made one assumption too many—figuring any strange signs in Graham must have been due to excitement over their discovery of the real tomb entrance. Whatever the cause, Kotler had completely missed the signs of strain in Graham, and had misjudged him.
Now, though, he knew. Now he could see. Graham was on the edge, and some of his animosity toward Kotler was bleeding over from professional rivalry—perceived or otherwise. But a larger part, Kotler believed, came from some inane sense of self-loathing. His chiding of Kotler for a lack of courage, for playing things safe, wasn't really aimed at Kotler. It was a criticism of himself. Graham was blaming himself for being afraid, after the confrontation with the guerrillas. The fear, after being shot at and nearly killed, had been just the match it took to ignite something dangerous in Graham.
They came to the split in the corridor, and Kotler knew he had to do something. Going deeper into the temple, into the dark and unexplored tunnels beneath them, might be suicide. They had no way to know what to expect, down below.
But more pressing was the fact that Graham couldn't be trusted, right now. He was dangerous. Doing whatever Graham said might get them both killed.
“John,” Kotler said.
“Keep going!” Graham shouted, and Kotler could hear the break in his voice.
“John, listen to me. Think for a moment. When we get to the altar, what will you do? The batteries in your flashlight will last only for so long. Even if you use the lantern and my flashlight, we might be trapped here for days. Eventually the lights will go out, and we'll be trapped in complete darkness, in tunnels that could be riddled with traps and other dangers. Does that seem wise to you? Your actions could get us both killed.”
There was silence behind him, and Kotler turned to see that Graham had stopped walking. He still had the .45 aimed at Kotler, but he was looking off into the distance ahead, as if confused about where they were going.
“I'll have to tie you up,” Graham said.
Kotler nodded. “That does seem like the reasonable course of action. But you shouldn't wait to do it. At least bind my hands now, so it's easier to deal with me when we get to the altar.”
Graham stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “Kotler, I'm not simple. I know what you're doing. You're trying to trick me.”
Kotler shook his head. “John, I'm only helping. This is a difficult situation. I'm trying to alleviate some of the tension and stress, for both of us. You said it yourself, I'm a coward. I don't want to risk being shot, accidentally or otherwise.”
Graham was again looking at him, as if considering this. Finally, he lowered the weapon. “I have some rope, in my pack.”
Kotler nodded, and Graham shrugged his shoulders, letting the backpack fall to the crooks of his arms.
In that instant, Kotler leapt, shoving Graham's gun hand aside and slamming a shoulder into Graham's solar plexus.
Graham emitted an oof, and doubled over, the wind knocked out of him. Kotler leapt to grab the gun.
Graham recovered quicker than Kotler had expected, however, and gave Kotler a kick to the side, sending him sprawling to the ground, a couple of feet from the .45.
Kotler scrambled then, trying to get to the weapon before Graham could recover enough to get his hands on it, but Graham had the superior position. He stepped quickly, stooped and picked up the weapon just as Kotler reached him. Graham, huffing and wincing, took aim.
There wasn't much time. All it would take was for Graham to pull the trigger.
Kotler snaked out his hands and took hold of Graham by the ankles, digging his fingers into the tops of his boots, and then rolled to one side, pulling hard.
Graham lost his footing, and as he tipped and fell he let out a cry and fired the weapon.
The shot was loud, and echoed throughout the stone corridor, the bullet ricocheting from the walls in a whine that faded into the distance of the side passages. Kotler had covered his head, instinctively, but looked up in time to see Graham stirring and trying to get to his feet.
Kotler leapt on the man, grabbing at his wrist and slamming his gun hand to the floor. The weapon once again skittered across the stone, coming to rest just against the wall. And again, Kotler and Graham wrestled their way to it.
Again, Graham managed to gain the upper hand by punching Kotler in the temple.
Kotler drew back, dazed, and stumbled to his feet. He saw that Graham was nearly to the weapon, and there would be no chance to wrest it from him this time. Graham was now firmly between Kotler and the main entrance, and in a second he would once again be armed and holding a superior position. Kotler's survival, at that point, would hinge on whether Graham's reasoning could return enough to keep him from pulling the trigger.
It was time for a new plan.
Graham's pack and flashlight had both fallen to the floor, during their scuffle. Kotler quickly grabbed both, took his bearings, and then turned off the light.
In complete darkness then, he sprinted in the direction of the side tunnel that led to the altar room. It was certainly not his first choice, but given the circumstances it had to be worth the risk.
“Kotler!” Graham shouted. “Get back here! I can't see!” A shot exploded in the darkness, as Graham fired the weapon blindly once, then twice. Dangerous. Stupid. But more proof that Graham was in no condition to be trusted.
Kotler kept moving forward, though he slowed a bit now, edging his way along the wall. This, he knew, was the safest path in the corridor, though it wasn't without its dangers. Some of the traps they had discovered, on their painstaking exploration of this tunnel, had triggers that spanned the whole corridor. In the dark, feeling and fumbling his way along, Kotler was far more likely to trip one of these.
He dared not use the flashlight, however. He couldn't risk giving Graham a signal as to where he was. Right now, his friend and colleague was the greater danger.
Kotler paused for a moment, and eased Graham's pack to the floor. He kept the flashlight, but he would leave the pack behind. He did, however, open it and fish around until he found the lantern and the diffuser. These might come in handy.
He hated to leave Graham blind and groping, but it couldn't be helped. And it might be the best thing for his friend, at this point. Time to regain his senses. Maybe he would grope his way back to the entrance, where he could remain safe.
Except Kotler knew that being trapped, alone in the dark, wasn't going to be helpful for Graham at all. In fact, it would more likely exacerbate the man's present condition.
It couldn't be helped. Right now, Graham was an enemy. To survive, Kotler had to keep going.
For now, Kotler was alone, in the dark.
The irony, that
he was now on his way to the very altar that Graham had insisted should be their destination, wasn't lost on him. Kotler, on the other hand, was just about as lost as he could be.
Chapter 19
Denzel, Knoll, and Hicks were making decent progress in the caverns, but they came to an abrupt halt when the path dipped into the waters of the cenote, blocking their way. It was incredibly dark in this passage as it was, but the light barely penetrated the depths of the water before them. The stone floor of the passage angled downward, disappearing in the gradient darkness.
“We're going to have to dive,” Hicks said, shrugging off his pack to start preparing the SCUBA gear. He glanced at Denzel. “You've done this before?”
Denzel nodded. “Ocean diving, though. Never in a cave.”
He was concentrating on his breathing, on keeping it steady and even. The passage getting here hadn't been so bad. He'd had a bit of flare up, and a slight anxiety, but he kept his attention on the cone of light from his flashlight, pretending he was outside on a very dark night. The shift in perspective helped. But coming to the water's edge, seeing the light grade to black in the depths, he was feeling the rise of panic.
“You ok?” Knoll asked. “You look pale.”
“I will be,” Denzel said, clenching his jaw. “Just need a breather.”
Knoll and Hicks eyed each other.
“Agent Denzel, Knoll and I can push forward on our own, if you feel you need to go back.”
Denzel shook his head. “No, we go on.” He looked at each of them. “I need to get through this.”
“Are you claustrophobic?” Knoll asked.
“Since the service,” Denzel nodded. “It flares up every now and then, but it's fine. I have a grip on it.”
Knoll and Hicks both looked concerned, briefly, but turned to their dive preparations.
Denzel took another deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He thought about wide open spaces. He thought about things that calmed him—Christmas with family, running in Central Park, having a cup of coffee on a chilled morning in the mountains.
It was working. Calm started to settle on him, a little hesitant at first, but he kept pulling it in, breath by breath. In some strange way, the darkness all around him began to help him to focus. Rather than feeling like the walls were closing in, Denzel again imagined that it was simply dark, and beyond the flow of their lights there lay a wide-open expanse.
The closed-in feeling subsided enough for him to function. The pressure remained, but it retreated to the edges of his awareness, instead of standing front and center. He could work like this. He joined the others, getting ready for the dive.
They pulled on insulated wetsuits, and stuffed their gear into water tight packs that would float along behind them, attached to slender cords they clipped to their belts. They each took turns assisting the other, checking valves, tank pressure, and lights. It took several minutes, but when they were ready, they each stepped into the cold water of the cenote.
They were using submersible lights now, strapped to their heads, and as they swam Hicks took the lead, signaling them from time to time, guiding them along the path that was most likely to lead to an opening, somewhere up ahead.
It was a gamble, of sorts. No one knew these spaces, or where they led. But Hicks had done some cave diving in this region, and had an understanding of the geology. That helped a great deal.
Still, to be safe, they were trailing a lifeline behind them, which they could follow to find a way back out. It was comforting in its way, being able to reach back and find that line, knowing that as it played out, the path was marked.
Underwater, with the rebreather and regulator forcing him to be even more conscious and in control of his breathing, Denzel found that he could let go of the terror that had been gnawing at his guts and at the periphery of his mind. The trek through the cavern had been unsettling, but somehow the waters of the cenote filled him with a peaceful calm. As he kept his sights on Hicks, swimming just ahead, and was bathed in light from Knoll, swimming behind, Denzel felt the tension ease, and the clenching feeling subside.
It was so liberating, he had to actually bring himself back around to the mission at hand—to find and rescue Kotler and Graham.
That was the extra jolt Denzel needed, it seemed. He became laser focused, and any hint of fear or panic left him.
They made their way through the underwater passage in a slow but steady movement, always forward, and rarely diverging from a straight line. They passed by several columns of stone, and occasionally came to a narrower gap that had to be negotiated in turns. All in all, however, their progress was steady and unimpeded. Eventually, Hicks angled upward, and Denzel and Knoll followed.
They emerged in a chamber that was similar to the one they'd left. Hicks removed his mouthpiece. “I think I know how the Mayans used this passage,” he said.
Denzel had his mouthpiece out, and removed his mask. “It seems like a long time for someone to hold their breath,” he said.
Hicks nodded. “Way too long,” he said. “Maybe with the right training they could make that route. They'd be doing it in the dark, and I have no idea how they dealt with that. But I do know how they made that route without drowning. I spotted markers, carved into the stone along the way,” he said. “I don't know what they mean, but I think they were meant to signal where it was safe to surface. Pockets of air, in the ceiling of the passage.”
Denzel considered this. “So if someone came this way, they could do this in stages?”
Hicks nodded and shrugged. “There were some pretty long stretches between markers,” he said. “But with the right training, it could definitely be done. Pearl divers go for much longer stretches. With practice and a little hyperventilation before diving, they could oxygenate their blood enough to make those hops. If this is part of an escape route from the tomb, whoever used it would know all about those waypoints.”
Denzel absorbed this new information. It was confirmation, at least, that they were on the right track. It was far more likely that this was a back door into the temple. “Ok, good to know. I don't think we'll need those air pockets ourselves, but it does show that the Mayans were aware of this passage.”
“Always good to have a backup plan,” Knoll agreed. He was looking around at the shelf of stone where they had emerged, and whistled. “Look at that,” he said, nodding to a far wall and holding his headlamp in his hand, using it as a flashlight.
Denzel and Hicks followed the beam, and caught sight of something glittering and reflecting light back at them.
“Gold,” Knoll said, his voice quiet, and a grin from ear to ear.
They approached, and Denzel bent to inspect the carved ornament that adorned the wall of the cavern. It was Mayan, of course, and Denzel was sure that Kotler could go into detail about what it meant, at length, if he'd been here. It was enough for Denzel and the others, however, simply to recognize it as another sure sign that they were on the right track.
“Seems like some kind of sign,” Knoll said. “What do you figure it says?”
“Exit,” Denzel replied, moving past the golden bauble and into the sloping passage beyond. Now that they were out of the waters of the cenote, with the walls of the cavern close, the feeling of being pressed from all sides was starting to return. Denzel took several deep breaths, and tried to rationalize his way out of an attack. He had literally been “pressed from all sides” while in the water, after all. Here, in the open air of the passage, he was completely unencumbered. There was nothing inhibiting his movements or his breathing.
It took a moment, but the breathing helped, as did the sense of mission. And slowly the grip of the attack faded. He could still feel that pressure, like a presence hovering just at the periphery of his vision, a gnawing at the edges of his stomach, a slight constriction in his chest. But it had eased enough for him to function, and his focus on finding and rescuing Kotler took care of the rest.
As Denzel dealt with the ves
tiges of his claustrophobia, a light suddenly erupted from the stone passage ahead, blinding the three men and freezing them in place.
“On the ground, now!” A gruff voice shouted. “Hands on the back of your head! On your knees!”
Chapter 20
Kotler edged along the corridor wall, desperately trying to keep a mental image of the landscape. He had moved quickly at first, but as he'd gotten deeper into the passage, he became cautious, moved slower. There were triggers in the floor that could unleash whatever creative and deadly trap the Mayans could think of, and in the dark, he was far more likely to trip one.
His one advantage, at the moment, was the fact that he and Graham had painstakingly crawled this passage only hours earlier, marking every trap. Kotler knew that most of the triggers were paver stones that were slightly raised in comparison with the stones around them, sometimes almost imperceptibly. These stones were scattered at random intervals, but nearly all of them were far enough away from the edges of the passage in this section that Kotler could skirt by them, if he kept close to the wall.
Eventually, however, he would come to a set of triggers that spanned the entire width of the corridor. This patch not only reached from wall to wall, but it covered about a meter of area from its fore-edge to its rear edge—wide enough that he and Graham had to leap over it, after testing the other side with Graham's hiking pole. There may have been a passage through the expanse of triggers—perhaps some pattern of safe stones to step upon—but it had been far more expedient to simply leap.
Now, in the dark, even that option was going to be exponentially more dangerous.
Kotler couldn't be entirely sure how close he was to this trigger, and he frankly considered it a miracle that he hadn't already set it off. He was certain, however, that the method he'd been employing so far wasn't going to cut it. He had a trained memory, and a very strong sense of spatial relationships. He could recreate environments in his mind, and explore them, but his memory was far from eidetic, and there were limits to how well he could keep the details of such a treacherous space in his head. Navigating this entire passage, blind, was out of the question.
The Girl in the Mayan Tomb Page 18