by Cullen, Ciar
“Hurry, I need you. Come to Pacal!”
His heart beat wildly. Was he losing his mind? The voice of the King, the voice of Pacal, Shield Jaguar? Tam had heard it too, at the site. A warning. But hadn’t they been warnings to leave the site? Weren’t the warnings from an angry King who wanted his tomb to remain undisturbed for eternity? Or had the King been warning him of danger all along?
Ridiculous. He might actually be insane. What did it matter? The damage had been done already, so what help were warnings now?
The phone jarred him out of his self-pity. “Sí?”
“SinJin, it is Rosa.”
“Rosa, what’s wrong?” He could tell she was crying.
“I hoped to find you there. I believe, well, I know, that something is very wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“I called Jack Peders—the boy, you remember, Tam’s friend? I wondered if she had called him.” SinJin groaned in annoyance. He didn’t want the world to know he was dumped and pining.
“No, listen. Jack said that Tam does not have a brother, could not be going to Europe.”
“Well, she made up a stupid story, then,” he said uncertainly, remembering that she had said she was an only child.
“Listen, SinJin, how long have I known you? Your pain blinds you now. I can see clearly. You must trust me, trust my female instincts. Something is very, very wrong. Tam is in love with you. She was the happiest woman alive, and may the Virgin Mother, herself, appear to me at this moment if I am not correct. Tam did not leave you. Someone took her, I am sure. I think that she tried to tell you, by writing of a brother she does not have. Jack agrees with me, and he knows her best. Do you hear me, SinJin? I believe she is in very bad trouble.”
“Hurry!”
“I’m coming home, Rosa. Have you called the police?”
“Oh yes, they said it was too soon, and that she left a note saying what she was doing. Lover’s quarrel, they called it. They would not listen, do you understand SinJin? We must find her.”
“If she didn’t leave me, then we’ll find her.”
“She didn’t leave you, SinJin.”
* * *
Exhaustion swept over Tam. Ramirez had gagged her and left her alone in the dark heat. He had grilled her for two hours on SinJin, on the site, on the tomb. She had done her best to lie, putting enough truth in to make it believable and enough falsehood to keep her treasured memories private. Tam had held back some of what she knew of Shield Jaguar, managing to place a bit of doubt in Ramirez’s mind about the occupant of the tomb. But it all seemed pretty useless. He would kill her. No one knew where she was, and SinJin had probably believed the note. That was the worst part.
He would think she had betrayed him. Perhaps he’d never learn what had happened. She would die a few miles from Cozmano, less than a mile from the site, and he’d work there for years, thinking she was living her life in Europe. It would crush her parents. Tam cried herself to a fitful sleep and dreamt of a sleek cat standing atop a pyramid, gazing down at her. She woke with a start.
“Do not give up. I am here.”
The whisper came on a breeze through the small window of the hut, and Tam dismissed it as part of her nightmare. She had already given up. No one was going to rescue her. She would not spend her life with SinJin. Hope had slipped away.
* * *
Orlando regarded the tall handsome man curiously. He had seen him once, briefly, and knew that he was who he claimed to be. Alberto Ramirez, the head of the Mexican archaeological service. Ramirez had dismissed the workers, all but Orlando. Orlando had questioned him, but had not gotten an answer until they were alone.
“Now, Señor, it is time for my guided tour of Pacal. I want to explore the site fully, especially the tomb opening, and I do not want the entire crew to be here. There has been vandalism, and one of them is to blame. Tomb robbing will be next.”
“No! I can vouch for each man. In fact, I’m related to nearly all of them in some way. You are wrong, Señor.” He saw the flash of temper in Ramirez’s eyes. “I mean no offense.”
“Well, it is still best this way. Show me the tomb.”
“I do not understand why you do not want Professor Twaine to show you the tomb? He is only a few miles away. We can reach him easily. He would want to be here, certainly.”
“Orlando, is it? I am in charge of all the archaeological sites in this country. Are you aware of that?” He was practically hissing. “Twaine is in charge of nothing. Nothing! Is that understood? I strongly urge you to follow my directions.”
Orlando nodded obediently, realizing that something was very, very wrong. The man seemed possessed. Orlando had seen a similar look in Twaine’s eyes before, but SinJin had always shown restraint and proceeded calmly and kindly, no matter what urgency he felt. Orlando would take the risk. SinJin was a friend, if a gruff one. This man was not SinJin’s friend, and he seemed indeed to be his enemy.
“All right, Señor. Come with me and I will show you the place.” Orlando led Ramirez to the far side of the pyramid, where a tumble of foundations framed a small opening. Ramirez grunted, squatting to examine the glyphs on the slabs. He ran his hand over them and read the ones that were legible.
“Ah, Orlando, you have made a grave error. Here there are references to Shield Jaguar’s son. This would never be enough to convince Twaine that the father is buried at the site. You are holding back on me.”
Ramirez’s eyes burned into him as he drew a gun. Orlando felt his blood turn to ice and backed up, tripping on a chunk of foundation.
“Now, Orlando. You have one, I repeat, one chance to undo that mistake. If you try to mislead me again, I will maim you. Then you will be truthful. Now, what’s the point in that?”
Orlando realized he was a dead man in any case. Ramirez wouldn’t leave him alive to talk. He made a break for the jungle and heard the shot long before he felt it. His world spun away as he hit the jungle floor, and the last thing he heard was Ramirez’s curse.
Ramirez kicked at Orlando, who seemed unconscious and barely alive. He might still need him to find the tomb, but he’d be sure to kill him before leaving.
Then Ramirez heard the Land Rover. Well, he had badly miscalculated the girl’s affect on SinJin. He was back at the site, ready for work, evidently. It might be best, he thought. The boy genius would show him the tomb. In fact, wasn’t that what SinJin had been waiting to do for days? Ramirez smiled and waited for his old friend. He would be happy to see him.
He lost his smile when he saw SinJin’s face—anger, anguish, anxiety. He’d have to think on his feet. It was falling apart. He hadn’t really wanted to kill him, but it might come to that quickly. Ramirez knew SinJin always carried a gun in the jungle.
“Well, my old friend,” Ramirez offered his hand, “Here I am at last.”
“Where is everyone?” SinJin patted his colleague on the back when he released his hand.
“Oh, I couldn’t find you. Your crew chief, what is his name?”
“Orlando.”
“Orlando, yes. He told me you might not make it today. So I sent them home, not sure what you intended for them. By the way, buddy, you look terrible.”
“It’s, well, it’s about a girl. I’ve been seeing someone. Actually, she’s my assistant, and she seems to be missing.”
“Missing? She was here about an hour ago! Gorgeous blonde? Dr. Martin, that’s it. Dressed a little inappropriately for the site, I thought.” He laughed lightly and took in SinJin’s amazed expression. “She seems rather nice, Twaine. What’s the problem?”
“What was she doing here alone? How did she get here? What did she say?”
“Oh, she wasn’t alone. She had evidently gone for a walk and one of the workers saw her and gave her a lift. She said she wanted to see you, I suppose she expected to find you here.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Her bag was gone. You said that she was in a dress? A white dress? Why would she go for a walk with her suitcase? N
o, Alberto, something’s very wrong. It’s not adding up. No one seemed to force her to get into the truck? She didn’t seem frightened?”
“Not from what I saw, man.” Ramirez laughed again. “Very lovely girl. She did mutter something about needing to think and going away and then having changed her mind. All very romantic stuff. Seems like you two have a stormy relationship going on. Don’t worry, SinJin, no doubt she’s tucked safely away at Cozmano.”
“I just came from Cozmano. I didn’t pass the men on the road. Unless she asked to go somewhere else, asked them to take her to the bus station in Playa.”
“No, she intended to see you back home, no doubt about it. Seemed pretty smitten to me. They probably took the back roads to drop off some of the crew. Don’t worry.” Ramirez grew impatient with SinJin’s obsession with the girl. This was getting him nowhere quickly.
SinJin ran his hand through his hair. “I’m going home, I have to see her.”
“Look, Twaine, I know you’re anxious for the reunion, but I’m only here for an hour. I’ve been waiting most of the day and I have to get all the way to Merida tonight. If we’re going to look at this tomb, it has to be now. I can’t get back down for another two weeks, at least. At least let’s make sure it’s intact.”
SinJin sighed. He felt ill, thinking that she might be waiting for him. He looked at Ramirez, knowing that he couldn’t put off the man like this—he’d never get the permit for the full excavation if he did.
“Can we simply establish that it’s him, Alberto? I really have to get home.” SinJin was shocked at himself, realizing that even though he knew Tam was all right, she still meant more to him than Pacal.
“Of course, I understand. Show me the way.”
“Orlando didn’t show you the tomb?”
“No, he was insistent upon waiting for you. Quite a loyal crew chief you have there.”
“Well, it’s right behind you.” SinJin walked to the entrance and indicated a pile of rubble. “That’s what we removed of the outermost wall. I think it’s probably one of three, based on similarly dated tombs from other sites. Agreed?” Ramirez nodded. “If you look there,” he pointed to a recess, “you’ll see that we removed most of the second wall—enough to clear space for the final entrance. I waited for you to break through that last seal. By the book, Director.” He smiled weakly, wanting desperately to get the approval to proceed and get home.
“Looks promising. Now, show me the glyphs that convinced you it’s Shield Jaguar.”
SinJin pointed to five rounded symbols on the inner wall. “For some reason, some of the glyphs are…”
“Backwards in order, I know.” Ramirez examined the glyphs and began reading aloud.
“Also, I have a cacao cup that indicates ownership by Spear Jaguar and mentions his father. There are other pieces as well. I couldn’t read them all, but Tamara could.” Something pulled and poked at SinJin’s brain, and he couldn’t quite focus. What was it Tam had said? The glyphs on the pyramid were backwards in chronology, but only on the one side, and on this tomb slab. Everywhere else, they followed the standard Mayan chronology of rulers.
“Where did you see the backwards glyphs, Alberto?”
“Oh, everywhere, all over the site. Very unusual, not unheard of, though.” He waved his hand to indicate the whole site.
A breeze blew around him, and dirt swirled near Ramirez’s feet as he continued to study the glyphs. SinJin felt a tremor course through him.
“Listen, storyteller! Listen for the truth. Your beloved’s life depends upon it!”
“Right.” SinJin tried to sound nonchalant. His heart pounded fiercely in his ears. He could barely hear the noises of the birds and incessant buzzing of the insects. SinJin backed away from Ramirez.
“She is in danger!”
“I think you have it here, my friend. Well, I have it.” He laughed in a way SinJin hadn’t heard before. SinJin knew that Ramirez meant to own Pacal, at any cost. What had happened to obsess his friend? Why did he need this site so badly?
Ramirez backed out of the opening and brushed the dust off his pants. He reached to his hip, under his shirt.
“Don’t.”
He spun around and looked into the barrel of SinJin’s revolver. “Well, well, well. Seems I underestimated the boy wonder. Always beating me to the punch, Twaine.”
“Where is she?” SinJin’s eyes were pure fire. “I’ll kill you Alberto, I swear I will.”
“No you won’t. How will you find out where she is if you kill me?”
“If you hurt her in any way, I will kill you.” SinJin swallowed back his fear, praying she wasn’t dead already. His own life depended upon it.
“She’s fine. Probably a little thirsty, a little frightened. She told quite a nice tale about your adventures together, your little dark escapades in the bedroom.” SinJin hit him across the face with the butt of the gun and he crumpled to the ground.
Then SinJin heard the moan from the edge of the jungle. Tam? He turned for a second, in time to see Orlando staggering towards him. Time enough for Ramirez to pull out his gun and fire. SinJin fell, but before he passed out from the pain, he heard another shot ring out. Struggling to focus, he saw Rosa’s son, José drop a gun, arm shaking. The boy had killed Alberto Ramirez.
Orlando staggered to the boy and held him close.
“Uncle! Are you all right?” José was crying and shaking.
“I think so. What made you come back, José, and with a gun!” Orlando struggled to get the words out, pain sweeping across his rugged face.
“Shield Jaguar told me to.” Orlando looked at the boy in amazement, and then realized he must be in shock. He nodded towards SinJin. José knelt down and pressed on the wound to stop the bleeding. Orlando’s strength gave out, and he sat on the ground next to SinJin and whispered orders to the boy. “I will stay with him. Get his keys, take the Land Rover.”
“I don’t really know how to drive.”
“You do now, boy. Go.”
Orlando watched the blood drain from Ramirez’s chest onto the soil. He released SinJin for a moment to tie his shirt tightly around his own shoulder wound. It seemed that blood bathed all of Pacal. Even the first glimmers of the sunset were fiery red.
* * *
Tam heard three shots. The first had jarred her awake. Many minutes later, two came close together. She prayed that it was hunters. At least they didn’t hunt jaguars anymore, she thought. They were nearly extinct in these parts. She’d never live to see one. She fell back asleep.
* * *
“My Husband, will it really happen that way? The evil man will die at the foot of your tomb?”
“Yes, love, it really will. Now close your eyes. I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow.”
Her eyes pleaded with him and she kissed his cheek. “Please?”
“Oh, all right, but come closer and rub my back.”
“As you wish. Lord?”
“Hmnn?”
“I love you.”
Shield Jaguar’s heart shattered into a hundred pieces, and he pulled her close, pressed his lips on her head. “Ah, I had hoped as much.”
Chapter Eleven
Jack did his best to reassure the Martins. They seemed too naïve, too sheltered, perhaps simply in shock, to really understand what was happening. They were an odd, intellectual couple, Jack thought, but they were kind. They looked baffled, as if they couldn’t comprehend that anything bad could happen to anyone in the middle of research. He knew that they hadn’t yet imagined the worst. He had.
As the plane touched down in Cancun, Jack prayed for the hundredth time that they would find Tam happily settled in at Cozmano, and that the worst the Martins would have to deal with was an eccentric new boyfriend. He was terrified that it wouldn’t be that simple. Rosa wasn’t a hysterical type, and it wasn’t like Tam to take off and not tell anyone, especially her parents.
Jack looked at the handsome couple, wondering what they would think of Twaine. Well, he was cert
ainly the least of their worries. Jack desperately sought for some way to help soften this blow for the Martins. Tam was the spitting image of Sandra, whose looks were holding up really well, Jack thought. Maybe a little more makeup, a better wardrobe—but the woman was an astrophysicist, after all. George didn’t speak much, but he was clearly distraught.
They found their bags, grabbed a cab, and began the hour and a half drive to Twaine’s house. It was already well past two in the morning. Hopefully she’d be there.
* * *
SinJin woke and cursed. The burning in his shoulder was indescribable, but he felt the sting of a needle and knew he’d be numb soon enough. He tried to tell the nurse he didn’t want the drug, but he couldn’t shape the words and fell back into a troubled half-sleep.
Rosa sat near his hospital bed, holding his hand. “My baby, please help him.” The tears rolled down her broad cheeks.
A young doctor strolled in and picked up SinJin’s chart. He had heard Rosa’s comment and lifted a brow. “You are his mother?” he asked in Spanish.
“Oh, no, his housekeeper. Please, doctor, will he survive?” The doctor tried not to laugh.
“Oh, Mama, please, relax. The bullet is out, and he lost a bit of blood. There’s no infection at this point, he should be home with you tomorrow afternoon. Strong as an ox—good heart, good lungs. He’s very lucky, all things considered. I’ll give you prescriptions for antibiotics and painkillers to take with you.”