The Mayan Priest

by Guillou, Sue

  Georgio embraced Adam unashamedly with relief and pride. ‘It’s good to see you, boy. I can’t believe you’re alive, but I guess that Gillian knew about this for some time.’

  ‘I discovered Adam’s distinctive boot prints as soon as I entered the room and quickly put two and two together. Thankfully Caton’s malice was his undoing and he didn’t even bother to check that the box was complete,’ said Gillian.

  Adam handed Gillian the inner container, noting the look of exhilaration and wonder on her face.

  ‘Wow, I can’t believe I am actually holding Kinix’s third instalment. Unfortunately any desire I have to read it will have to wait until we can find a way out of here.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  With the exit into Palenque well and truly sealed, Adam led the way back down the tunnel and eventually into the cavern that had played host to his life and death battle with the fearsome jaguar. He shivered uneasily as his eyes fell upon the stains left by the Jaguar’s burst eyeball and was surprised to feel Gillian affectionately place her hand on his shoulder.

  ‘A bad memory,’ she stated in understanding as they began to search for a way out.

  With the benefit of a couple of extra torches, it soon became evident that the cave was a natural formation but had been manipulated to become a man-made passage.

  Gillian was the first to make a discovery.

  ‘Hey, guys, look at these!’ she called as Adam and Georgio hurried over and studied the series of stepping stones compressed into the side wall of the cave.

  ‘Why would the Mayans go to the effort of building steps when they could walk on the sand or stones?’ queried Adam.

  ‘If this was constructed 1500 years ago, it was likely that this stream was considerably wider than it is now. The steps may have been required to pass the river,’ offered Georgio as Gillian clapped her hands in enthusiasm.

  ‘See? Spending so much time with me is starting to rub off. Good guess, Georgio, and I’ve no doubt that you are correct. Let’s see where they lead.’

  True to form, the stones led along the entire wall until they appeared to stop at a solid barricade.

  ‘Let me,’ said Gillian as she felt around and located a lever in a small alcove behind another obscure rock.

  ‘How did you —?’ Adam’s train of thought was interrupted at the sound of the sliding door.

  The door revealed an ominously dark tunnel that was considerably more oppressive than the space they had just come from.

  ‘You go first,’ said Adam to Georgio, receiving a chuckle in reply.

  ‘And I thought you’d developed some balls over the last couple of days,’ he replied but conceded by stepping into the darkness with only the light of the torch to lead the way.

  Unlike the passages that ran directly from the altar room, this one was considerably more eerie. The walls were lined with numerous recesses filled with the upright skeletons of children. Their vacant eyes gazed at the intruders. Adam gasped with a mix of shock and incredulity. This was not only sinister but downright creepy.

  Gillian stopped for a moment and considered one of the long decayed bodies.

  ‘This is unusual for the Mayans. As far as I am aware, they either buried their loved ones under the floor of the family home or, in the case of a sacrifice, an allocated allotment. On occasion a tomb will be discovered with a noble or a king and a family member, but never with such purpose. These bodies were positioned with the sole reason of sending a message.

  ‘Message … what message?’ shivered Adam as he tried not to envisage the suffering these children must have endured when their lives were abruptly taken from them. It did not take a degree in forensics to see the cracked skulls and unnaturally broken arms and legs.

  ‘The arms and legs would have been broken post mortem although the cause of death was most likely by clubbing,’ said Gillian as if reading Adam’s thoughts.

  ‘Children were seen as the most pure of sacrifices, the ultimate appeasement to the gods. I do not think the positioning of the children was designed to frighten but more likely as a permanent tribute. We know that the room we came from was the altar, so it would be my guess that we will exit via a series of rooms designed to store tools and the various goods required by a priest to perform such important religious acts. My only hope is that the tunnel is still intact, but the remarkable condition of the structure would allow us to expect that the rest will be the same.’

  The following few minutes proved Gillian to be correct. The cool, dry air had preserved the simple furniture and a number of religious icons and tools, but Gillian did not look pleased by her further discoveries.

  ‘This is not right. Mayan priests loved to be decorative and flamboyant. They were very important and wealthy, so I would expect to see various elaborate paintings, vases, writing implements, obsidian and jewels, but there is nothing of the sort. The beautiful arches, large statues of their deities and intricate flooring are all here, but there is no colour. It’s as if the place has been stripped but without the evidence of robbers.’

  ‘I can see what you mean,’ said Adam and they continued uphill along the paved path, eventually reaching another solid rock. This one had a similar lever as previously, but Adam paused in amusement before pulling the stone extension.

  ‘Our dear friend has been here. Look. Another portrait of Kinix. He just can’t help leaving his mark!’

  Gillian pushed him aside.

  ‘Twice in one place. That’s unusual. I would have thought it was a piece of graffiti, but the picture is too meticulous and too similar to the one in the altar room to be a coincidence. He is definitely an enigma,’ said Gillian as she sighed and pulled the lever which opened easily albeit with a few groans of disagreement.

  They stepped into an overgrown, partially demolished ruin which was sprinkled with the first rays of morning light and the distinctive sounds of a helicopter rotor.

  Georgio waved his hands madly, grinning like a Cheshire cat, when the machine sat down in a vacant plot just beyond a row of trees.

  Both Gillian and Adam looked at Georgio in utter confusion.

  ‘I may be old but I do own a mobile phone. Reception leaves a lot to be desired, but I was able to send a text message to Dale when our car was involved in that crash with Caton,’ Georgio spat Caton’s name out like a despised criminal.

  ‘You deceiving old bugger,’ chided Adam in good humour. ‘I thought you didn’t believe me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ asked Gillian. She looked as if she had been deceived.

  ‘Sorry, love.’ Georgio wrapped his arms fondly over her shoulder. ‘The reality was, that I had no way of knowing if Dale received my message and even if he did, there was no guarantee that he would find us. My coordinates of Palenque’s location was rough at best. It was just a chance which luckily has paid off.’

  ‘I thought my father was working undercover and not able to employ any assistance for us.’

  ‘Dale is a very powerful man who simply does not like to use his position for personal gain, but they are also my men and I would have expected them to volunteer their time to assist us anyway. This could have been a mission to recover our bodies, so it’s my guess that your father would have presumed the worst and came prepared.’ His deduction was confirmed when two men came running frantically from the woods with stretchers in hand.

  ‘Georgio … you’re alive!’ exclaimed Tom, the young man Gillian had met a couple of days ago upon the Black Hawk.

  ‘Yep, and I’m bloody grateful for that too. I’m too young and tough to upend and kick the bucket just yet,’ replied Georgio as Tom turned his attention to Gillian.

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you really look like shit.’

  Gillian pursed her lips but took it in the manner it was meant. ’I could do with a shower and some sleep.’

  ‘Well, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Dale has informed us that Tikal is under siege and we can’t let you in there until we have sec
ured the site. Clearly this whole situation is under wraps and we need to tread carefully. We have obtained a small hut just outside of the Tikal National Park which we can use as a base and allow you time to shower and rest.’

  Gillian looked as if she had won the lotto and Adam‘s expression was akin to a moment of extreme pleasure.

  ‘Sounds good to us,’ Adam replied as the helicopter took off and ferried them the short distance to the shelter.

  Gillian was the first to step from the machine and even managed a tired jog to the door of the wood hut that resembled more of a run-down shack than the upmarket resort style cottage they had conjured up in their minds.

  ‘This is really crap,’ said Adam with the distinct look of disappointment as he viewed the dilapidated crumbling exterior, shattered glass windowpanes and hole-ridden iron roof. ‘I’d be lucky to get a cold shower in this place.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll survive,’ laughed Georgio, sporting a comfortable and somewhat smug attitude as he took it upon himself to open the door and usher them inside.

  Adam was shocked and he could not help but whistle in appreciation.

  The one-room shack was as ultramodern as any multimillion dollar apartment with a state-of-the-art kitchen, a comfortable lounge, two beds and a separate bathroom. False wall panels had been installed on an angle and the roof sported an artificial ceiling and drainage to create the illusion that the exterior was leaking. There was no possible way that anyone could have guessed at the hidden extravagance.

  ‘It’s often used by park attendants, guests or anyone of significance who required anonymity and protection. The hut is installed with premier security and monitoring and is usually kept reasonably secret, making it perfect for us. We were lucky to obtain it,’ said Tom with pride written on his youthful face.

  ‘I’m in the shower first!’ yelled Gillian as she beat the men in a race to the tiny room. She returned after the specified five minutes to sit for a meal of pasta and coffee.

  ‘This is heaven. I’ve never really been one for pasta, but right now it tastes as good as the best rump steak,’ said Adam in absolute delight.

  ‘Delicious,’ agreed Georgio as his tough man image was temporarily marred by a blob of carbonara sauce on his clean shirt.

  ‘What a slob,’ laughed Gillian, although it was quite evident that her attentions were not on Georgio’s misfortune but on the obsidian box that lay on the table. She was like magnet to metal that was unable to pull away.

  ‘I vote for a nap. My brain is way too fried to unravel another Kinix puzzle,’ said Adam.

  Tom viewed his waterproof watch. ‘We have time. There’s still four hours until we receive the call from the General.’

  ‘Excellent, Mate. Wake us up in three,’ murmured Adam under the heady haze of sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Dale could not help but smile at Sean’s evident excitement.

  ‘First flight’s always the best,’ confirmed Dale as the helicopter veered sharply to the right and ventured out over the vast expanse of the Gulf of Mexico.

  It was a lovely morning and the crystal clear bay played host to numerous boats of all shapes and sizes. There were large liners steaming toward the Florida Straits, tankers moving cargo and a general clutter of pleasure and speed boats. It was a hub of activity that provided a wonderful vision as the sun rose over the horizon.

  Dale massaged his neck. He had spent a very painful evening cramped into the back of Sean’s car and in hindsight, a patch of grass or his much loved swag would have provided more comfort.

  Sean looked at him with sympathy and understanding. ‘Sorry about the car.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. This whole situation leaves a lot to be desired,’ conceded Dale as Sean considered his words for a moment before replying.

  ‘I know that there is a lot more going on than you have seen fit to tell me, but I appreciate being given the opportunity to help you. This is certainly a lot more exciting then chauffeuring around smelly, rude people all day.’

  ‘Yes … perhaps … but we still have a long way to go. You were fundamental in saving me from becoming front page news, or worse, a suspected criminal. I am in your debt, but I am keen to ensure that you are not hurt. I owe you that, and a suitable explanation, but I just do not know where to begin.’

  ‘Try me,’ said Sean, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

  ‘Not yet,’ replied Dale. The time was not right and he feared the boy’s reaction when he found out they were tracking a notorious drug criminal.

  Sean did not argue but continued to view the commotion below as the helicopter encroached on their landing position.

  They landed in a field just outside the inner fortified wall surrounding the centre of Mexican capital of Campeche. Home to 220 000 people, the town was conquered in 1540 by the Spanish Conquistadores, the very people who were touted as being responsible for the fall of the Mayans, although Dale was not so sure about that theory. Gillian had earbashed him enough about the failing of the Mayan hierarchy and loss of viable earth to grow food to shed a different light on the subject. The alternative thought was that the civilisation was already crumbling prior to the arrival of the Spaniards. They only hastened the inevitable.

  ‘I thought we were in a hurry,’ said Sean as he grabbed Dale’s arm and jerked him from the helicopter and onto the grass just as a bullet whistled past Dale’s right shoulder.

  Dale winced and looked in shocked disbelief. He had lost a small piece of fabric and there was a minor graze. ‘Shit that was close.’

  ‘Who the hell is trying to kill us?!’ yelled Sean as they dived for cover behind a small tree.

  ‘A mean bastard by the name of Arun.’

  ‘I thought we were looking for Rossler Townsend.’

  ‘Rossler is only a lead; Arun is the one we are after, the leader of a massive drug ring that has infiltrated all levels of our society from the humble farmer to the White House,’ responded Dale.

  The level of danger had risen unexpectedly, putting his life, but more importantly, Sean’s, in immediate danger. The time had come for Sean to know why they were here and to have the opportunity to get out.

  ‘If you want to go home, now’s the time! There’s enough cash in my wallet to catch a flight!’ yelled Dale as they sprinted down the pavement past the most fantastic arrangement of pastel coloured homes he had ever seen. In fact the whole hillside was a myriad of colour and under normal circumstances, he would have stopped to look.

  Another shot pounded a nearby wall, blowing a haze of plaster into the air.

  ‘No, I’m in for the long haul! Anyway, who will save your arse if I leave!’ hollered Sean over the din of the passing traffic.

  Dale shook his head in admiration. This boy had balls.

  They continued their high speed sprint through a local store and out the other side, knocking a couple of stands on the way. Dale began to feel the stirrings of a stitch, which he forced to the back of his mind, and mounted the footpath before running past a set of reflective windows. It was here where he caught a fleeting glimpse of their determined, dark-haired pursuer no more than fifty feet behind.

  He was aiming his firearm in their direction.

  They both ducked in unison.

  ‘Where now?!’ screamed Sean as they approached the old fortified wall originally built to keep out invaders and famous pirates like Francis Drake and John Hawkins during the 1600s. Completed in about 1680 by a French engineer, the wall was roughly hexagonal in shape and encompassed the entire city. The eight corners and bulwarks had since been converted for alternative uses such as a museum, prison, city and sea gate and a botanical garden.

  Dale gestured to a nearby busy hotel which he hoped would provide the ideal place to lose their pursuer.

  They raced inside the tastefully renovated room, fully booked for lunch, and out towards the kitchen door. Men, women and children who had previously been sitting down for a relaxing meal suddenly found themselves with a lap f
ull of food and drink as Dale and Sean barged through in a desperate hurry.

  The rampaging gunman was on their heels with a pistol pointed in their direction.

  ‘Duck!’ screamed Dale as a bullet whizzed past their heads and lodged in a light fitting. The resultant shower of glass just missed the nearby customers.

  The place was in an uproar. First from the unexpected intrusion and then from the fear of being shot! Everyone hid under the table and chairs, leaving a ready path for the gunman to follow his intended targets.

  ‘I don’t think we’d be welcome back any time soon,’ said Sean.

  Dale and Sean slammed the back door open, jumped down a small flight of stairs into a dirty alley and ran for their lives. They exited in an adjoining car park and Dale estimated that they had no more than thirty seconds to find the vehicle he was looking for.

  As a young man he had been caught in a situation that required the hot-wiring of a car. Whilst he had not stolen the car himself, he had paid particular attention how to do it just in case the skill was ever required again. The catch was that he needed a Honda Civic, but any older car would do.

  He found a Toyota in the next aisle that would be suitable, but to his disappointment, it was locked. Dale was stumped; unlocking a door was not on his resume.

  ‘Move over, old man,’ ordered Sean as he opened the car and started the engine in a mere twenty-five seconds.

  Dale stood, mouth agape.

  Sean grimaced but did not offer any explanation for his finely tuned skills.

  ‘I’d be getting in if I were you,’ Sean pointed over his shoulder as a black figure careened toward them.

  The vehicle, whilst in bad condition, was not the sludge it appeared to be. It moved without the expected moans and groans onto the road, providing the perfect escape … or so it seemed.