“Colts, I need a decision.”
Hurrying, Colts flicked through the photographs. He remembered taking several of the location, the best of which he’d later had developed.
It had been a long time since he’d needed to see them.
“Colts!”
Colts answered, “See, what you need to do, Ben, is get down into the basement. The venue may have changed, but I’ll wager the entrance is still there.” He shuffled his photographs, at last recognising scenes from the old cinema. “Can you do that?”
Ben continued down the stairway, now close to the main exit. He had noticed on the official website that an ‘experimental’ room existed below the ground floor; on nearing the bottom, he saw the stairway continued down. Two employees were chatting by the door.
He waited, hoping they would move away.
He whispered into the phone, “I can’t help get the feeling I’m not really supposed to be here.”
“A lot of places we’re not supposed to be, Ben. In this day and age how can one really be the judge of what’s right and wrong?”
Ben waited on the stairway, hoping for a break. A minute of waiting felt more like hours, but finally both employees headed away towards a staff-only area. Wasting no time, he followed the stairway to the bottom, finding himself outside an unguarded door.
He opened it and entered a large unlit room. Chancing discovery by turning on the light, he found that he was in a well-presented, comfortable room clearly used for musicians to practise.
“Okay, I’m in the basement.”
“Tell me what you see.”
Ben looked at the surrounding walls, concentrating on the colours. “The walls are white. Panelled lights on the ceiling.” He lowered his phone and started taking photographs. “Check these out.”
Colts waited for the picture messages to come through and studied them closely. The sparsely decorated storeroom seemed to bear little resemblance to what he had seen years earlier.
“What floor are you on?”
“Basement.”
“Where exactly? How did you get in?”
“Stairway from the main lobby. I’d guess about eight metres below the ground floor.”
Colts attempted to make calculations in his head, simultaneously taking in the subject matter. “The basement could still be too high or the same level. What direction are you facing?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“It’s not difficult, Ben. You entered from the south. You came to a stairway. Where are you now?”
“The basement is in the second building that backs on to the plaza.”
“So you entered from the south. The door was in the south wall.”
Ben attempted to make sense of the directions. “Yes.” He brought up the compass utility on his phone, which confirmed Colts was correct.
“The door is south. The room is rectangular. Heading north.”
“The area you are looking for was once a chapel.”
“What was it called?”
“At the time, there were several chapels in the vicinity, some of which haven’t survived. Now, if memory serves me correct, the chapel you need was either the Chapel of Santa Catalina or San Antonio de Padua. Both were homes to the more illustrious tombs.”
Hearing the name Catalina gave Ben the shakes. “Where were they?”
“Back in the monastery’s heyday, there was a chapel located above these known as the Chapel of San Francisco. The Chapel of Catalina was adjacent the north wall; back then it was one of the richest in the entire church. Alongside it, the Chapel of San Carlos Borromeo was added later, kinda like an annex.”
“When was it built?”
“No one knows exactly. Writings refer to the 1600s.”
That was the last thing Ben wanted to hear. “Columbus was buried in 1506. Cortés wrote this in the 1540s. It can’t be the same one.”
“Relax, Ben. San Antonio de Padua was also located along the north wall, with a second level beneath the ground. The main chapel was destroyed; the key pieces sold off. It’s probably this one you want. The dates check out.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but the chronology is better. The Chapel of St Anthony was built by the treasurer of Juan II.”
“Juan II. Wait. What was that quote again?”
“What?”
“The quote. The clue.”
Colts checked his notes. “A pilgrimage to the site of the admiral’s original grave, in the shadow of Christ our Blessed saviour. In the chapel of the finder and shepherd of the lost, pay homage at the base of the unknown sailor. We’ve been through all this.”
“Shepherd of the lost? Anthony of Padua was the patron saint of the lost and lost things.”
At the other end, Colts smiled. “Well, isn’t that convenient?”
Ben also smiled, suddenly convinced they were on to something. “Okay. How do we get in?”
Colts continued to scan Ben’s photographs on his phone, comparing them to those of twenty-five years earlier.
“You’re currently close to the north part of the church; perhaps even standing in the location of the original chapels. You need to get below ground level.”
“No kidding. Any ideas?”
Colts took a deep breath, his anxiety increasing. Recent renovations had completely changed the room’s layout.
“Back when I visited, there was a trapdoor put in in the basement of the hostel. Most of the time they used it as a storeroom though in theory it was also available for extra beds.”
“A trapdoor, are you serious?” Ben began to look closely at the floor. Like the lobby, the floor was timber, reflecting the overhead lights like a sandy beach.
Nothing obvious stood out.
“Where was the trapdoor? Where in the room?”
Colts had taken photographs of everything, both in location and time. Looking at them for the first time in over twenty years was like reviewing entries in a diary organised perfectly from start to finish.
“The walls have clearly changed, but the foundations could be the same. Try top right.”
Ben focused on the area right of the wall, the north-east section of the former church, he reasoned. There was a large woollen rug on the floor, partially hidden by boxes.
“All right. First I’m gonna have to move the boxes.”
*
Juliet applauded as the duet came to an end. She took a photo on her Android of the handsome biracial male singer as he left the stage and imagined a moment when the two of them were alone together. With luck, maybe she would run into him backstage.
Maybe give Ben a fright.
There had been no word from Ben since his departure; a good thing, she reasoned. If he had been ejected, she figured he would have contacted her by now. The thought made her nervous.
If Ben failed, it would be all up to her.
The all-girl trio were talking onstage again, thanking their recent visitor and plugging his forthcoming album. She made a mental note of the kid’s name and rose to her feet, disappearing behind the curtain.
There was no sign of life in either the lobby or on the stairs. Taking the futuristic stairwell downwards, she took in the features of the glass-walled offices and conference rooms before coming level with the bar area. The bar was closed, lights off; she remembered it had been lit on their arrival. On seeing the exit, she noticed the same usher standing alone by the door.
He saw her as she reached the ground floor.
“Hi,” she said, “I was wondering about tomorrow night’s show. I’m going to be really busy all day tomorrow. Would it be possible to get tickets now? Please.”
The man remained resolute, albeit less so than he had been with Ben. “I’m sorry. Ticket office is not open. You can buy them tomorrow morning or online.”
She removed her phone from her handbag and flushed. “My battery is dead. I came all the way from America without a charger, and they don’t work the same over here.” She looked at him, pa
thetic. “I’d really love to go. Can you help me, please?”
The usher looked at her, sighed and finally smiled. The woman was a beauty, no doubting. Why the hell do women like that always date the idiots?
“Wait here. I will see if I can help you.”
Juliet smiled widely as she finally got her way. She watched, satisfied, as he headed towards a door marked Staff Only, disappearing behind it.
Leaving her alone.
She had not seen Ben on the stairway. She had passed the toilets without checking; there were few other logical choices. The stairway continued downwards, ending at a room labelled Experimental.
If Colts was correct, they needed to head below ground.
*
Ben heard the door open and immediately turned his head in alarm. The slow, creaking sound followed by complete silence caused a sudden spike in his heart rate, making it difficult to breathe. He saw the door open fully. A woman entered.
“Juliet, you scared me half to death.”
“Maybe next time I’ll try twice as hard.” She smiled. “You just missed a great song, by the way. I’m definitely getting their album.”
“Maybe I’ll check them out on Spotify. Help me move these boxes.”
She saw him apparently reorganising the room. “Why? Are you working here now?”
“Colts thinks there’s a trapdoor that heads down into a chapel. Quickly. Next time it won’t be you at the door.”
Juliet eyed the discarded boxes and sighed as she bent down over the nearest. She tied her hair into a ponytail with a hairband from her handbag and helped Ben clear a path.
The corners of the rug were visible at one end, all the motivation Ben needed. Pulling it away, he noticed unevenness in the floor, then hinges.
He smiled and phoned Colts, activating the Bluetooth setting.
“I gotta hand it to you, Gramps. You might just have found us a way in.”
Colts had returned to the lounge, his eyes on the laptop. “Well now, I always said never underestimate the value of experience. You opened that thing yet?”
“Not quite.” Ben positioned himself on one side, gesturing Juliet to help him. She lined herself up opposite and pulled.
The trapdoor opened instantly.
They looked down.
Ben laughed loudly. “Like I say, I gotta hand it to you.” He activated the torch widget on his phone, looking into what appeared to be a bottomless pit. “How did you get down?”
“It was easy, really; we used this thing called a ladder.”
Ben grimaced. As far as he could tell, the drop was over ten metres.
“Wait.” Juliet noticed a large ladder propped up against one of the walls. “Help me.”
Ben turned and saw it. Despite its rugged condition, he guessed it had been placed there deliberately.
“Good spot. How will we know which chapel is the one we want?”
“Head through the trapdoor, you’ll enter the Chapel of Catalina. Anthony of Padua is next door. East.”
“Copy that.”
Ben helped Juliet remove the ladder from the wall and asked her to hold the light. Separating both lengths, he lowered it through the hole and joined the locking mechanism together when he felt it touch the bottom.
He looked down, retaking possession of his phone. From what he could see with the light, the base appeared to be set on solid ground.
“I’ll go first. Wait until I’m down.”
“I’ll hold the ladder.”
“Thanks.”
Taking the first step, Ben glanced apprehensively down before continuing his descent.
Kneeling over the top, Juliet frowned as she saw Ben disappear, the sound of his footsteps echoing as they made contact with the metal steps. She saw the light move around him in random motion as Ben’s hand continued to move. She held her breath, reassured by the sound of movement.
Then all went quiet.
“It’s okay. I’m down.”
Relieved, she followed him down into the blackness.
*
Close to the great ruins in the centre of Mérida, the maroon four-by-four pulled up outside an unlit terraced house. Within seconds, one of its female passengers alighted and entered through the front door of the house, its interior immediately blazing into light, a pale glow only visible from the outside through the gaps in the curtains. With the door closed, nobody was on hand to witness the resident hurry up the stairs to restock with clean clothes and fresh food before returning to the car moments later, her appearance greatly altered.
Nor did anyone pay attention as the car reversed out of the narrow street and make its way back amongst the traffic, heading north out of the city.
*
In the courtyard of the mighty castle overlooking the village of Medellín, Juan Cortés stood with arms folded as the engineer carried out the preflight checks before activating the ignition of the Eurocopter Tigre that had been parked on the moonlit take-off and landing pad for the past thirty minutes. Juan remembered hearing two years earlier that the unit cost of each model was in excess of €22 million, depending on specifications. He respected the number, and the source.
Fortunately, his personal outlay had been far smaller.
Claude stood alongside Eduardo, close to the keep. He had already taken the liberty of inserting earplugs into his ears, lessening the effects of the humming. As usual, he refused to travel by air, not that his presence would be necessary. Juan was satisfied. The old man had already earned his dinner.
At least now he could enjoy his retirement without the hassle of his nephew’s constant complaining.
Eduardo joined Juan on the landing site, sporting a black baseball cap and a thick windproof jacket.
“It’s good.”
“Good.” Juan removed the recently photocopied letter from his pocket, checked the content and immediately replaced it. “We take off in ten minutes. With any luck we should be there before dawn.”
30
Juliet felt the ladder wobble as she continued her way down. She tightened her grip as she felt it sway once more, the fear inside her intensifying with every step.
It was cold beneath the trapdoor. She sensed the surrounding area was primarily stone based, which explained the loud echo she heard as the soles of her feet came into contact with each rung. She slowed with every step, praying the bottom was near, and paid close attention to Ben’s clear instructions, grateful he was there to guide her. Despite the poor visibility, she sensed his presence nearby.
A gentle ray of warmth in the coldness.
She could tell from his voice, she was almost within touching distance. She made a further step with her right foot, then another with the left. As she proceeded down again, she felt strong hands grab hold of her midriff. A voice whispered in her ears.
“Almost there. Three more steps.”
Greatly reassured, she continued to the bottom and switched on the torch widget on her own phone. Her instinct had been correct.
The surroundings were made of stone.
Ben had moved to the centre of the chamber, his light aimed at the floor. Several of the original floor tiles remained largely intact, murky grey in the light. It wasn’t obvious whether the floor had been decorated, so great was the presence of debris. If there was writing on any, it was no longer legible.
Juliet joined Ben in examining the floor, moving slowly from wall to wall. Although the decorations varied little throughout, the walls were more ornate, reverent. A series of blocked-off archways displayed a clear religious pedigree, their appearance similar to those in medieval choirs. There was wall art in various places, dust-coated images with varying degrees of damage.
Nevertheless, more had survived than either of them had expected.
Juliet centred her focus on a long shadow that crossed the walls in the yellow light. Through the darkness, she noticed a hand. Then a face.
“Funerary statues,” she said, immediately getting Ben’s attention. “1500s.”
Ben joined her after finding less of interest on the opposite wall. In the torchlight he made out a bearded face above a ruffed neck and a cloaked body with hands joined together in prayer.
“Venero Leyva,” Ben said, confident in his guess.
“Who?”
“I remember reading about this place years ago. Colts was right about the names of the chapels. The Venero Leyva family won the patronage in the early 1600s. Most of their stuff was evacuated before the destruction.” He rubbed his stubble. “Strange this wasn’t.”
“1600s. That would be too late for Columbus.”
“Colts said it was in the next chapel. Antonio de Padua. Patron saint of the lost.”
Juliet remembered the clue and nodded. “How do we find it?”
Ben looked around, searching for a doorway. “I was just getting to that.”
The chapel was cramped; the presence of contemporary artwork and tombs lining the walls gave off the impression it could still be in use. Using the ladder as a guide, he explored the room, avoiding the tombs. The only exit was in the south wall, an arched doorway that headed into a cluttered corridor disturbingly reminiscent of a bomb site. He proceeded cautiously, terrified that even one wrong step could cause an avalanche of debris.
Just like at Godolphin, he cursed the absence of a hard hat.
The corridor began in a straight line, flanked on the left side by the outer walls of the chapel. Loose piles of rubble appeared regularly, making it difficult to find a safe foothold.
Juliet followed, walking slowly. Though she had changed her footwear on the flight, she still rued the absence of something safer than trainers.
Ben turned. “You okay?”
“I really wish you’d have told me about this when we packed.”
Ben grinned, mild relief. “What were you wearing in the mine?”
“Hiking boots.”
“Where are they now?”
Juliet ignored him. “Where are we going?”
“Why? You want a guided tour?”
The Cortés Trilogy: Enigma Revenge Revelation Page 83