The Death Relic

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘How’s the Fiesta Americana? I hear it’s lovely at this time of year.’

  Payne grunted his displeasure at being tracked by satellite. To show his annoyance, he looked out the window and flipped off the sky. ‘I thought you were going to stop doing that.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Tracking my mobile signal for your personal pleasure.’

  ‘And I thought you were going to stop calling me at work.’

  ‘I would, but you never leave work.’

  ‘That’s because I don’t want you to call me.’

  Payne laughed at the comment. The truth was Raskin never left work because he was a raging workaholic who consumed more caffeine in a single day than Starbucks served in a week. ‘Fine! If you don’t want to talk, I guess I won’t tell you about Maria.’

  Raskin’s ears perked up. ‘Maria? Who’s Maria?’

  ‘You mean you don’t know? I figured that with all of those fancy databases at your disposal, you’d already have her photo and dossier in front of you.’

  ‘Tell me her last name and I will.’

  ‘Sorry, my friend, you have to earn your reward. Find out what I need to know and I’ll fill you in on everything else. And let me tell you, Maria is just your type.’

  ‘In other words, she’s a woman.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Raskin groaned. ‘OK, OK, I’ll help you out. But only because I crave oestrogen. Do you know the last time I talked to a woman who wasn’t my mother?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, either. That’s how long it’s been.’

  Payne tried not to laugh. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘But it’s not my fault. I swear it isn’t. You’ve been to my office. You know what’s it’s like down here. My co-workers are all nerds. If I was a woman, I’d stay away, too.’

  Payne remained silent for the next few seconds. ‘Are you done whining?’

  Raskin nodded. ‘For now.’

  ‘Good. Because I need this information ASAP.’

  Raskin cracked his knuckles. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘I need background information on a Dr Terrence Hamilton. He’s an American professor who specializes in anthropology.’

  ‘How deep?’

  ‘Give me everything. Personal, criminal, financial and social. He disappeared from this hotel sometime last night. If anything stands out, and I mean anything – credit card, cell phone, ATM – I want to know immediately.’

  ‘Easy enough.’

  Payne walked across the room and grabbed Hamilton’s gun. ‘I also need you to trace a weapon for me.’

  ‘What kind?’

  ‘Smith & Wesson single-action revolver. It’s a long-barrelled thirty-eight. Probably fifty or sixty years old.’

  ‘Let me guess: a Mexican special.’

  ‘Well, we are in Mexico.’

  ‘Got a serial number?’

  He carefully read it to Raskin. ‘Hamilton was carrying it in his briefcase. I don’t know if he owns it, found it, stole it, or built it himself. Any info would be appreciated.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. Might be tough, though. A gun like that will have a lot of history that isn’t available online. Our amigos to the south are slightly behind in their data entry.’

  ‘Would a picture help?’

  ‘Of Maria?’ he asked excitedly.

  ‘Of the revolver.’

  ‘Oh.’ Disappointment filled his voice. ‘Sure. Can’t hurt.’

  Payne snapped one with his phone. ‘I’ll send it as soon as I hang up.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘That’s it for now. We just landed a few hours ago, so we’re still playing catch-up. If we need something else, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Great,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Can’t wait.’

  ‘By the way, DJ sends his love.’

  ‘I don’t want his love. I want a photo of Maria.’

  ‘Sorry. Ain’t gonna happen.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll settle for a random chick in a bikini.’

  Payne smiled. ‘Fine. I’ll see what I can do.’

  20

  Dressed in khaki shorts, a cotton blouse and leather sandals, Maria Pelati looked like she was heading out for a day’s shopping. Instead, she was on her way to the parking lot to break into Hamilton’s car. The absurdity of the situation put a smile on her face.

  ‘I have to admit,’ she said to Jones, who studied their surroundings with a suspicious eye, ‘things are never boring when we’re together.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s because you keep getting into trouble.’

  ‘You don’t have to be so happy about it.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do. Without trouble, we never would have met.’

  A few years earlier, Maria was a graduate student on an archaeological dig in Umbria, a landlocked region in central Italy. Led by Dr Charles Boyd, her long-time professor and mentor, they were searching for the Catacombs of Orvieto, the legendary safe haven of the popes of the Middle Ages, when they stumbled across a discovery that threatened to destroy the foundation of the Catholic Church. Fearing the damage it would cause, some high-ranking members of the Vatican tried to silence the problem by manufacturing false evidence against Boyd and leaking it to police agencies around the globe. In the blink of an eye, he went from respected academic to one of the most sought-after fugitives in Europe.

  And Maria was labelled his accomplice.

  Known for their ability to track and eliminate targets, Payne and Jones were coerced by the CIA to find Dr Boyd and Maria before anyone else could grab them and capitalize on their discovery. Using their unique skill set and vast network of connections, Payne and Jones found the fugitives in Milan and were threatening to turn them over to the authorities when they realized they had been set up by the men who had hired them. Over the next week, Payne and Jones protected the fugitives – and their shocking secret – like precious cargo, battling a private brigade of henchmen in Italy, Austria and Switzerland, while staying one step ahead of the law.

  Many had been killed to keep Maria alive, including her brother.

  During that period, Jones had saved her life on multiple occasions, and their romance had blossomed from there. It started with innocent flirtations, followed by dating, and eventually a long-distance relationship that had shown a lot of promise. The attraction was obvious, and so was the chemistry – which was clear to everyone – yet the timing couldn’t have been worse for the couple. Between Maria’s graduate studies in England and the steady growth of Jones’s detective agency in Pittsburgh, they didn’t have enough time or energy to work through the main issue that eventually tore them apart.

  An issue that had been kept from Payne.

  Out of respect for Maria, Jones had concealed the information from his best friend because he didn’t think the three of them would ever be forced to interact again, but a late-night phone call had changed all of that. Suddenly the three of them were in close proximity again, which put Jones in a situation he had hoped to avoid. Although he was excited to see Maria, he knew her re-emergence in their life would force him to have a difficult conversation with Payne, one that would test their friendship in a whole new way.

  Jones had wanted to discuss it during their flight, but had chickened out.

  Some things scared even him.

  Payne took the elevator to the lobby, where he hoped to find a map of the resort. If none was available, he would have to get directions from the front desk.

  Guests of all ages scurried past him, the sound of flip-flops and bratty kids echoing in the atrium. Payne ignored the noise and admired the view. Green ferns dangled from the floors above, a splash of colour clinging to the white walls that climbed all the way to the ceiling. Scattered throughout the lobby was artwork depicting native life in the region. Some statues, some paintings and a few modern pieces he didn’t understand.

  But that was common for Payne. Art wasn’t his thing.

 
‘Excuse me,’ he said to a passing valet, who was pushing an empty luggage cart towards the front entrance. ‘Do you speak English?’

  The valet nodded. ‘Sí.’

  ‘Where’s the security office?’

  Without saying a word, he pointed towards a side corridor that led to a private office. It was near the main lobby, just out of view of hotel guests.

  Payne smiled. ‘Gracias.’

  The valet replied in perfect English. ‘You’re welcome.’

  Payne laughed at the exchange because it reminded him of many conversations he’d had around the globe. Although language skills were never his strength, he had learned long ago that native speakers were far more likely to help a foreigner who attempted to use the native tongue during the conversation. It didn’t matter if they completely butchered the language. All that mattered was the effort, because effort was viewed as a sign of respect.

  A few seconds later, Payne knocked on the door of the security office, unsure how he would be received by the staff. Just to be safe, he had rehearsed the details of his cover story in his head, over and over again, until he was confident he wouldn’t screw it up. Like most cover stories he had used over the years, this one contained a teaspoon of truth and a gallon of lies. The goal was to get the information he needed while covering his trail for would-be pursuers.

  ‘Hola?’ Payne said as he knocked again. ‘Anybody home?’

  ‘Come in,’ someone shouted in English.

  Payne opened the door slowly, then stuck his head through the crack. ‘Hello?’

  ‘I’m in the back.’

  Payne closed the door behind him, walked past the unmanned desk on the left and made his way to the back office, where more than twenty video screens lined the far wall. Black-and-white videos, showing different areas of the resort, from the private beach to the guest parking lot, rotated through the monitors in regular intervals.

  Watching them all was a single guard, who sat in front of a large panel that looked like the mixing board in a music studio. Without taking his eyes off the screens, he spoke over his shoulder. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I’m here to report an incident.’

  The guard yawned. ‘What kind of incident?’

  ‘A break-in.’

  The guard cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to decide whether the matter was worthy of his time. ‘This isn’t a noise complaint?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or a lost pet?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Or some kid shitting in the pool?’

  ‘They do that?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  Payne winced. ‘No.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘I’m positive. No noise, no pets, no shit.’

  ‘In that case,’ said the guard as he whirled around, ‘you’ve come to the right place.’

  Until that moment, Payne hadn’t realized that the guard was in a modified wheelchair, and the guard hadn’t realized that Payne was nearly twice the size of an average man. The two of them stared at each other, revelling in their surprise, but unwilling to comment on the other until the guard could hold it in no more.

  ‘Wooeee! You sure are a big sucker. They don’t grow ’em like you in this part of the world.’ He pointed to an office chair that had been pushed out of the way. ‘Would you mind sitting down for me? I already got a broken neck. I don’t want to make it worse by staring up at you.’

  Payne grabbed the chair. ‘No problem at all.’

  ‘I’m sure glad you didn’t lose your pet. I can’t imagine how much damage Babe the Blue Ox could do in a place like this.’

  Payne laughed at the Paul Bunyan reference. A character from American folklore, Bunyan was a lumberjack of extraordinary size and skill whose lone companion was a massive blue ox named Babe. Working in unison, the two of them cleared tons of timber every day. ‘Unfortunately, I sold my ox when I lost my job. Damn tree huggers got me fired.’

  The guard, whose name was Jody DeJute, shook Payne’s hand. ‘Nice to meet another unemployed American. I came south when I lost my gig at a hi-tech firm in Houston. Corporate downsizing or some bullshit like that. But I landed on my feet – so to speak.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘A year or so. I helped put in this system. Did such a good job they kept me on to run it. About the only running I get to do.’

  Payne forced a smile. One of his best friends from the military had lost both of his legs when an IED – an Improvised Explosive Device – blew up under his Humvee while doing advanced surveillance in Iraq. For the first several months, his buddy was so ashamed of his condition and so afraid that everyone was going to tease him about it that he tried to beat everyone to the punch by making wheelchair jokes at every opportunity. ‘What can the system do?’

  ‘What can’t it do!’ DeJute proclaimed as he whirled back towards the control panel. ‘With the touch of a button I can access any camera I want. I can pan, zoom, or both. For insurance purposes, we store videos on site for a month. After that, we delete the local files, but we keep backup copies on some server in the middle of nowhere. I still have access, but it takes a while.’

  Payne shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. The break-in occurred yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘Yesterday? Shit, I worked yesterday. Did you report this to anyone else?’

  ‘Nope. You’re the first.’

  ‘And hopefully the last. I can’t afford to lose another job.’

  21

  Paco was proud of his Aztec ancestry. He stood in the middle of the plaza and urged everyone to gather round. He didn’t care if they were part of his tour group or not. His goal was to educate as many people as possible about the city his ancestors had built, a city so spectacular that conquistadores wept when they saw it because they thought they had found heaven.

  ‘Imagine a lake,’ he said as he spread his arms out wide, ‘one that stretches farther than your eyes can see. No cathedrals, no palaces, no buildings. Just a lake, hidden from the world by volcanoes and snow-covered mountains. Can you picture such a place?’

  Tiffany closed her eyes and nodded. She could see it in her mind.

  ‘Now imagine an island, no more than a hundred yards wide, in the middle of the vast water. The land is flat and unremarkable. It is surrounded by marshes, thick with vegetation. And yet, as you stare at it from the distant shore, you see potential. For the past hundred years, your people, known as the Mexica, have been wandering through the wasteland, searching for somewhere to live. You are used to deserts, not lakes. Cactuses, not trees. Everything about this island is foreign to you, but you are guided here by a vision: an eagle with a serpent in its beak, sent as a sign from your main god, Huitzilopochtli. Despite cries of protest from your tribe, you choose this island – this tiny island – as the place to build a city.’

  Paco paused briefly, just long enough for the crowd to open their eyes and focus on his weathered face. With his words, he was about to create a kingdom.

  ‘Amazingly, the gods reward your courage with a miracle. As the northern wind howls, the summer rain fades away. Over the course of a week, the waters of the lake slowly recede and your island starts to grow. What was once a pebble becomes a rock. What was once a rock becomes a boulder. And what was once a boulder becomes your home.’

  Tiffany shivered as he said it. Goose bumps covered her arms.

  ‘The city’s name is Tenochtitlan, and it is founded in the shallows of Lake Texcoco. In less than six months, the rains will return and your home will be underwater unless you can defeat nature. Channels are dug to great depths. Levees are built to soaring heights. Fires burn throughout the night to light your workers’ way. If you fail, you will be killed, whether by flood or revolt, but in your heart, you know you will succeed. You have seen the city in your dreams, one of astonishing size and beauty.’

  Paco lifted his arms above his head, then wiggled his fingers to indicate rain. The crowd was so transfixed they ha
lf-expected the skies to open at that moment.

  ‘Whooooosh goes the wind! Crash goes the thunder! And the dark waters start to rise. Standing in the middle of a growing lake, you do not know if you will survive. You pray to Huitzilopochtli with all your might, unsure if he will reward your bravery. Eventually, he gives you his response. Whether by fate or fortune, he answers your prayer and the water is held at bay. The year is 1325 AD. The island is underneath our feet. It is time to build an empire.’

  Paco pointed towards the northeast, somewhere between the Metropolitan Cathedral and the National Palace. ‘To honour Huitzilopochtli, construction begins on a temple made of earth and wood. To protect it, you build canals to funnel the lake and rainwater away. Before long, your island is interlaced with bridges and canals that allow you to visit every section of the city on foot or canoe. But there is a problem. The water that flows through your city is brown, muddied by runoff from the mountains. To fix the issue, your engineers build a dike that is ten miles long. It separates the spring-fed waters to the west from the dirty waters of the east. Next comes a pair of aqueducts – three miles each and made of terracotta – that pump fresh water into the city from the springs at Chapultepec. But this water is not for drinking. It is for bathing and toilets. Unlike the savages who came from Europe, our ancestors bathed twice a day and went to the bathroom indoors instead of in the woods.’

  Tiffany laughed at the description, as did most of the group. She had never heard Europeans described as ‘savages’ before. Normally, the natives were the ‘savages’, and the conquerors were the ‘enlightened’ – not the other way around. But from Paco’s perspective, the roles were reversed. Until that moment, she had never thought of things in a foreign way. Whether right or wrong, she had always viewed things from an American standpoint.

  It was probably why so many people hated her countrymen.

  Paco was ready to explain a crucial part of Mexico’s history. He waited for the laughter to stop before he continued. ‘In 1428, barely a century after the birth of your kingdom, a pact is made with two neighbouring city-states. Suddenly, three different groups – the Mexica of Tenochtitlan, the Acolhua of Texcoco, and the Tepanec of Tlacopan – are fighting under one name. This Triple Alliance of Nahua tribes is known as the Aztec Empire.’