The Death Relic

by Chris Kuzneski

  But Jones, who’d heard some of the cadets’ comments about his age, ignored the order until he’d kicked away their weapons, officially ending the drill. He punctuated his victory by blowing on the tip of the device like a gunslinger, then tucking it into an imaginary holster. ‘Call me crazy, but I think this sucker works.’

  Payne nodded. ‘I think you’re right.’

  ‘Let’s find out for sure.’ With his foot, Jones nudged one of the cadets, who was sprawled on the tunnel floor. ‘Hey, kid, what do you think? Does the device work?’

  The cadet groaned, then vomited again.

  Payne scrunched up his face in disgust. ‘I think that’s a yes.’

  ‘Definitely a yes,’ said Jones, who was already thinking about his next meal.

  Blessed with an iron stomach, he studied the half-digested buffet that coated the tunnel walls, as if reading a menu. One entrée in particular caught his eye. ‘You know what? I think I changed my mind about dinner. Forget the beef and broccoli. Let’s get pasta instead.’

  5

  Maria showered and changed into a sundress before heading downstairs to meet her new employer, an American scholar named Terrence Hamilton. Knowing little about him except his work in the field of anthropology, she was a bit nervous and more than a little curious. They were scheduled to meet for drinks at Isla Contoy, a casual poolside restaurant at the Fiesta Americana, where he had promised to explain why she’d been summoned to Cancún on such short notice. The details he’d given over the phone had been vague at best, but she’d been willing to play along because of his sterling reputation and the first-class accommodation he’d arranged. Not to mention the tropical location of their meeting. For Maria, that had been the clincher.

  When she walked out of the rear entrance of the lobby and saw the view, she knew she had chosen wisely. Running parallel to the beach was a lagoon-style pool that stretched as far as the eye could see. Bisected by an arched bridge that led towards the turquoise waters of the Gulf, the pool was surrounded by swaying palms, white lounge chairs and multiple tiki bars. Guests in various states of undress relaxed in the water and around the stone deck, soaking up the last rays of the day as the sun inched across the sky, casting a golden hue over the entire resort.

  The temperature was in the low 70s, but felt cooler thanks to a gentle breeze that smelled like the sea. For Maria, the scent stirred up childhood memories of a family vacation on the Mediterranean. Though it had happened a lifetime ago, she could remember it clearly. She was playing with her brothers near the water’s edge while her parents looked on from a picnic blanket, where they were eating cheese and drinking wine. There was no screaming. Or crying. Or drama of any kind. Nothing but fun, love and laughter. It was a stark contrast to the way things became in the years prior to her father’s murder.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said a voice from behind.

  Maria blinked a few times, then turned around, fully expecting to see her new boss. Instead, it was a member of the hotel staff, who was dressed in a tropical shirt and khaki pants. He had a broad, flat nose and hair the colour of coal. A beach towel was draped over his left shoulder.

  He smiled warmly. ‘You are Maria, no?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m Maria.’

  ‘I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure. You were wearing different clothes earlier,’ he said with a thick accent. ‘My name is Carlos. I am a friend of Ernesto.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Carlos.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, too. I like meeting pretty women, and you are muy bonita.’

  Suddenly uncomfortable, Maria thanked him for the compliment while brushing the hair out of her eyes. It was a nervous tic she had developed as a schoolgirl. ‘Did you need something, Carlos? Or did you just want to say hello?’

  ‘Do you have a mobile?’ he asked.

  She took a deep breath, worried that Carlos was about to ask for her number. How in the world was she supposed to relax if the staff kept asking her out? ‘Of course I do. Why?’

  Carlos pointed at the scenery. ‘This is perfect time for photo. If you like, I can take picture with phone. Beautiful woman with beautiful view. Make all your friends jealous.’

  Maria flushed with guilt. She had been this close to brushing off Carlos, yet all he’d wanted to do was help. Obviously her people-reading skills had suffered from her recent lack of social interaction. ‘Actually, that would be great. Thanks for offering.’

  ‘No problemo.’

  Using her cell phone, Carlos took pictures of her from three different angles, making sure her smile was perfect before he snapped each one. When he was done, she thanked him with a quick hug, which he considered far more rewarding than a handful of pesos. The love-struck grin on his face was proof of that. Afterwards, she asked for directions to the restaurant. He pointed to the open-air structure between the beach and pool and explained how to get there.

  Maria thanked him again, then hustled to her meeting.

  Shaded by a massive thatched roof known as a palapa, Isla Contoy offered fabulous views of the ocean and the hotel’s sandy beach. In the distance, to the east, she could see the red-and-white-striped lighthouse at Punta Cancún, which is built on the tip of a rocky shoal that juts far into the channel. Waves crashed against the rocks, sending spray into the air like an angry whale. Yet somehow the water at the nearby beach was as calm and clear as a bath. Unsure how that was possible, she decided to spend the next few days doing research – while wearing a bikini and working on her tan.

  Maria scanned the restaurant and spotted her employer at a small table near the back, as far from everyone else as possible. Wearing a panama hat and an open-collared shirt, he could have passed for a tourist if it weren’t for the briefcase at his feet. In a restaurant filled with beachwear, it stood out like a surfboard on Wall Street.

  ‘Dr Hamilton,’ she said as she approached.

  Deep in thought, the American took a few seconds to react to the sound of his name, but once he did, he hopped to his feet with so much energy he nearly knocked the table over. ‘I am indeed. Which means you must be Dr Pelati.’

  She smiled and shook his hand. ‘Please, call me Maria.’

  ‘Only if you call me Terry. All my friends do.’

  ‘OK, Terry.’

  A few inches taller than Maria, he was in good shape for someone twice her age, even though he hadn’t been inside a gym in decades. Blessed with good genes and a high metabolism, his years in the field had kept him toned and tanned. A week’s worth of whiskers covered his cheeks, but couldn’t hide the smile lines near the corners of his mouth. They peeked through the grey every time he grinned, which was quite often during their conversation.

  Always the gentleman, he pulled out her chair and urged her to sit down. ‘So, what are you drinking? I’m halfway through a strawberry daiquiri, and let me tell you, it’s heaven in a glass! They make it with fresh strawberries, Cuban rum and clean ice – which is very important in Mexico. Coming from Italy, are you familiar with the term Montezuma’s revenge?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Trust me, you don’t want to become familiar with it. It’s a miserable condition that affects nearly forty per cent of all foreigners who visit this country. Down here, bottled water is a must. Never – and I mean, never – drink from the tap, even if the locals say it’s clean. And unless you’re in a nice resort like this one, stay away from the ice. It will get you every time.’

  ‘Good to know.’

  ‘And fruit,’ he said as an afterthought. ‘Only eat fruit if you peel it yourself.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because the fruit is washed with local water. Apples, pears and the like are OK if you remove the skin, but I’d avoid grapes. Those rascals are tough to peel.’

  She laughed at the thought.

  ‘So,’ he said as he called over the waiter, ‘what’ll it be?’

  ‘Tap water, extra ice. And a side of apple skins, please.’

  He burst out laughing,
glad she had a sense of humour. ‘I can tell already we’ll get along fine. For me, that’s my biggest concern on any project. Not the academics or the science – those things tend to sort themselves out in the long run – but the personalities of my co-workers. I’ve been on digs where we’ve found nothing, yet I couldn’t have been happier because I enjoyed my time in the field. On the other hand, I’ve made some major discoveries that were ruined by the miserable bastards I had to share my tent with.’

  Maria ordered a daiquiri as he continued to talk.

  ‘When you reach a certain age – and mine shall remain a secret until it’s chiselled on my tombstone – you learn there’s more to life than your achievements. If at any point you find yourself not enjoying the journey, you need to find a different path.’

  She nodded in agreement. ‘It’s funny you should mention that because I’ve been struggling with that problem in recent months. Don’t get me wrong: I love my work. But there has to be more to life than late nights in the library. There has to be something to balance it out.’

  He held up his drink. ‘You mean like daiquiris on a beach in the middle of winter?’

  ‘That’s a start. But I was thinking something bigger.’

  Hamilton smiled and leaned in closer. ‘In that case, this is your lucky day. Because I’ve stumbled across something that will blow your mind.’

  6

  Maria glanced across the table, trying to decide if Hamilton was serious. One look at his cocksure smile told her he was.

  ‘What did you find?’ she demanded.

  Hamilton laughed at her bluntness, enjoying the secret knowledge he possessed for as long as he could. To milk the moment a little while longer, he took a slow, pronounced sip of his daiquiri before wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin. The whole time Maria stared at him with unblinking eyes.

  ‘So,’ he asked, ‘how was your flight?’

  ‘My flight?’

  ‘I sprang for a first-class ticket. I hope you were comfortable.’

  ‘My flight was great.’

  ‘And your suite?’

  ‘My suite?’

  ‘Yes, your suite. Does it have a nice view?’

  ‘My view is great. So are my bed, my bathroom and the minibar. Now quit stalling and tell me what you’ve found!’

  ‘Boy,’ he teased, ‘you weren’t kidding when you said you were all business. We’ll have to work on that before you have a nervous breakdown.’

  Maria laughed, surprised that the two of them were hitting it off so well after such a short time. ‘OK! Be that way. But keep something in mind: you invited me here for my expertise. Over the next few days, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to get even.’

  ‘That, my dear, is a very good point. Perhaps you’ve waited long enough.’

  ‘Perhaps I have.’

  Hamilton glanced over her shoulder and frowned. ‘Unfortunately, it looks like you’ll have to wait a few more seconds.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘We have company.’

  As if on cue, the waiter returned with Maria’s daiquiri, plus a basket of tortilla chips and a dish of pico de gallo. Known locally as salsa fresca, the uncooked condiment was made from chopped tomatoes, onions and serrano peppers. The aroma was so strong, Maria’s nose and eyes started to run even though it had been placed in the middle of the table.

  ‘Santa Maria!’ she said, coughing. ‘I’m glad I’m sitting upwind from that concoction. The smell alone is giving me heartburn.’

  ‘I’ll gladly eat your share,’ said Hamilton, who dipped one of the tortilla chips into the salsa before shoving it in his mouth. ‘I’ve been here so long I’ve fallen in love with spicy food. Now I put hot sauce on everything, from eggs in the morning to steaks at night. Believe it or not, I sometimes top off my dinner with jalapeño ice cream. It’s a local favourite.’

  Maria scrunched up her face at the thought. In her mind, a meal wasn’t complete unless it ended with something sweet. Preferably something chocolate. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘In Cancún? Less than an hour.’

  ‘Really? I thought your crew was based here.’

  ‘Heavens no! Not a lot of research to do in these parts. This is a tourist city, not an historical one.’ Hamilton pointed at all the hotels that lined the beach. ‘Right now, there are approximately seven hundred thousand people living in Cancún, plus tens of thousands of tourists that visit on a daily basis. That being said, do you know what the local population was in 1970?’

  She took a wild guess. ‘Fifty thousand.’

  He signalled lower. ‘Try again.’

  ‘Twenty thousand.’

  He shook his head. ‘Would you believe, three?’

  ‘Wow! Three thousand is pretty small.’

  ‘Not three thousand,’ he said, laughing. ‘I’m talking three – as in one, two, three.’

  The number shocked her. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

  ‘I assure you, my dear, I’m completely serious. I can’t tell you how much money I’ve won over the years with that bit of trivia.’

  ‘Three people? How is that possible?’

  He explained. ‘Back then, this entire stretch of land was part of a coconut plantation owned by Don José Gutiérrez. The only full-time residents of Cancún were the three caretakers of the plantation. I jokingly call them the Three Amigos.’

  Maria shook her head in amazement. Based on everything she’d seen from the air, she had assumed Cancún had been around for centuries. ‘What happened in 1970?’

  ‘Well,’ he said as he stuffed another tortilla chip in his mouth, ‘the Mexican government realized how important tourism could be for the local economy, so they financed the first nine hotels in the region and poured money into the infrastructure. Their goal was to build the best resort city in the Caribbean. Amazingly, they pulled it off in less than twenty years.’

  ‘That is amazing.’

  ‘Granted, there have been some bumps in the road over the past four decades – most notably Hurricane Gilbert and Hurricane Wilma – but that hasn’t hurt the population growth in the city. It’s practically doubled in size in the last ten years.’

  Maria sipped her daiquiri, trying to remember how they had started on the topic. Mentally she traced the line of questioning back to when she had asked about Hamilton’s time in the city. She had assumed he was based locally since they were meeting at the Fiesta Americana, but he said he had been in Cancún for less than an hour.

  ‘So,’ she asked, ‘where is your team stationed?’

  ‘Wherever our research takes us. Right now less than a hundred miles from here.’

  ‘Anywhere in particular?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said cryptically as he dug through the wicker basket for the perfect-sized chip. ‘But if it’s OK with you, I’d rather focus on your role in things, not mine. I’m sure you must be wondering why we brought you here on such short notice.’

  She nodded. ‘The question has crossed my mind.’

  ‘Any theories?’

  ‘Plenty. Including some I’d rather not share.’

  He laughed at the insinuation. Somehow her statement had been playful and accusatory at the same time. ‘Now you’ve gone and done it. After a comment like that, I’m afraid you have to share.’

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  ‘I’m afraid you must. My reputation as a gentleman is at stake!’

  She blushed, realizing she had little choice but to explain her remark. ‘OK. But please keep something in mind: I had these thoughts before I knew anything about you, your research, or all the awards you’ve won in the field of anthropology.’

  He grinned. ‘If you’re buttering me up, this has got to be good.’

  She nodded, then took a sip of her drink for some liquid courage. ‘What can I say? A man I’ve never met calls me out of the blue and offers to fly me halfway around the world and put me up at a five-star resort for the weekend. What do you think I thought?’
>
  ‘That I was a dirty old man looking for action.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t know you were old during our initial phone call, but I did think you were dirty. I didn’t find out about your age until I researched you on the Internet.’

  He gasped in mock horror. ‘Wait! Did you just call me old?’

  She nodded. ‘However, I no longer think you’re dirty.’

  ‘Well then,’ he toasted, ‘here’s to small victories.’

  She clinked his glass and smiled. ‘Trust me, it’s a major victory in my eyes. Normally it takes a very long time to get on my good side. Yet you’ve managed to do it in two days.’

  ‘That’s the daiquiri talking.’

  ‘Maybe a little. But I think it’s more than that. I think it’s your passion for history. That’s what convinced me to accept your offer.’

  ‘My passion?’

  She nodded. ‘Like I said, I looked you up on the Internet after you called. I wanted to get a better feel for your personality before I took a job so far from home, so I watched several of your lectures online. Let me tell you, I was impressed. Your passion for history oozed through the screen. No wonder you’ve won so many awards.’

  Now it was Hamilton’s turn to blush. ‘Believe me, I don’t do it for awards. I do it for myself. In my opinion, there’s nothing better than making a discovery about the world we live in. It’s the reason I live in a tent eleven months a year, the reason I never settled down or got married. History is my first and only love. It’s the reason I breathe.’

  ‘Yep. That’s the passion I was talking about.’

  He shrugged. ‘I can’t help it. That’s who I am.’

  She shook her head. ‘Never apologize for passion. Like I said, it’s the main reason I’m here. I figured, if you’ve discovered something so secretive that you couldn’t tell me about it over the phone, then it was bound to be important.’

  ‘Trust me, it is.’

  She studied his face. ‘How important are we talking?’