Stone of Truth

by Adam Hiatt

  Jaxon recognized the connection. Each scene depicted one of the diverse Stone of Truth legends. Moreover, the central figure in every event had a stone hanging from the neck. He couldn’t help but wonder how old the etchings were.

  “Jaxon, are you making sense of any of this?” asked Reddic. Turning to face his brother, Jaxon’s eyes fell on the altar. It was a collection of twelve large rocks, fused together by an archaic mortar substance. The top was flat like a tabletop.

  “It’s incredible,” he whispered.

  “Look at these figurines over here,” urged Reddic. Pulling away from the altar, Jaxon scooted to the far wall next to Reddic. Each of the four stone carvings was spaced exactly three feet apart. At first glance they looked like the sequence of a circle divided into fourths. He stepped forward and ran his hand over each artifact. The smoothness of each polished rock felt pleasant to his fingers.

  All of a sudden he was struck by an epiphany. “No way,” he mumbled. “It can’t be.” Jumping to the middle of the room his gaze followed the beams of light. His eyes seemed to glow with zeal. “Do you know what these are?” he asked.

  “Broken circles?” said Reddic.

  “No, they’re the four phases, or four seasons of the moon.” He pointed to each one. “Crescent, quarter, gibbous, and full. It’s just as the códice described.”

  “You’re kidding me,” replied Reddic, searching for a better view near the altar. “I assumed that the cipher had already exhausted its usefulness.”

  “Evidently not.”

  “If those are the four seasons of the moon, then the sphere over there must be the sun,” Reddic interposed.

  “Yes, it would appear that way,” said Jaxon, suddenly somber.

  “What’s wrong?” Reddic asked.

  “I don’t know. The cipher implied that the stone would be in the place where the sun looked over the four seasons of the moon. Well this is that place. So the stone should be on this altar, but obviously there’s nothing here.”

  “Jax, you don’t actually believe that finding this thing would be that easy, do you?” Jaxon grimaced and shook his head. “Now I don’t know about you, but I think there’s clearly something important about the moon phases, as you called them, and the altar. I can’t think of any other reason why they would be spotlighted.”

  “I can agree with that assessment.”

  Taking two long steps, Reddic stood in front of the crescent moon, staring. Impulsively, he reached out and gripped it with both hands and pushed. Nothing happened. He decided to yank on it; still nothing. Desperate, he twisted it clockwise.

  It moved!

  The dissonance of stone grinding against stone sounded throughout the chamber as he continued to rotate the chunk of obsidian. The crescent figure clicked when it reached the exact opposite of where it started. Reddic tried budging it farther, but it refused to move. It was locked in its new position. He turned around and shrugged.

  “Keep going,” Jaxon said. He shuffled to Reddic’s side with a new bounce in his step. “This makes perfect sense. The four seasons of the moon appear in reverse formation during the waxing and waning phases. I think we were supposed to have known that.”

  Reddic’s hands started to perspire as he twirled the other three moon pieces one hundred and eighty degrees clockwise. When the final carving, the full moon, locked into place, a deep vibrating drone came from within the altar. Reddic thought he heard the sound of a mechanized lever turning.

  Suddenly, a portion of the altar began to materialize from the center. Leaping to the middle of the room, they surrounded the ritualistic rock formation to get a better view. A dark green tetragonal block, one square foot in dimension, emerged from somewhere within the belly of the altar. Jaxon and Reddic circled it slowly, scrutinizing every detail.

  They noticed a small opening on the side of the box facing the bulbous torch. It was cut to the square and was about four inches deep. Pressed inside were three circular stone dials, set in a fashion to overlay one another. Each disk was razor thin, but varied in breadth. The bottom dial was the largest, measuring five inches in diameter. The second dial spanned four inches and the top dial three. Evenly spaced around the outer edge of each disk were seemingly random dots and bars.

  Clicking on his flashlight, Jaxon knelt on the floor and pointed it into the small cavity. “These are Mayan numerals,” he said. “Come take a look.” Reddic promptly took a knee next to Jaxon.

  “The Mayans used a vigesimal numeric system, which was based on the number twenty,” Jaxon explained. “Ten fingers and ten toes equal twenty units, right? Of course that’s different than the Arabic system that we use, which is based on units of ten. The Mayan system was not as easy as ours, but it was still pretty simple. Each dot was worth one and each bar was five. You can see that numbers one through nineteen are inscribed on each disk.”

  “How were numbers larger than nineteen calculated?” asked Reddic.

  “That’s a good question. As I understand it, numerical units were usually written vertically with the total sum being at the very bottom. Each level increased by a power of twenty. So all you would have to do is multiply the unit, which could be anything from one to nineteen, by whatever power of twenty was represented in that level. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, of course. The first level was twenty to the first power, the second was twenty squared, then twenty cubed, then twenty to the fourth, and so on. If I wanted to write forty-five I would put two dots in the second column and one bar in the first.”

  “Precisely,” Jaxon said, nodding reassuringly.

  “So what is this, a primitive combination lock?”

  “I think that’s exactly what it is.”

  “Well then, what are you waiting for? Unlock it,” Reddic insisted.

  “I’m not sure what the right combination is. There are three levels of numerals here. That means it could be any number from one to seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine.”

  “You know exactly what it is, you’re just not thinking. Don’t you remember the number in the cipher text?”

  A smile slowly grew on Jaxon’s face. He reached inside the gap and started turning the dials. He rotated the disks until the correct symbols were aligned in a vertical upright manner. Reddic stood over his shoulder double-checking.

  Jaxon pulled his hand out and looked confused. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Nothing happened. Maybe the combination is wrong.”

  “It’s not wrong. Two thousand two hundred and sixty-eight was the number on the cipher text. I would bet my life on it,” said Reddic. He surveyed the chamber, looking for anything that had changed. There had to be something. His eyes fell on the lunar sculptures on the far wall. He stared at them for a count. An idea began to form in his mind.

  He rushed over to the nearest sculpted artifact and heaved counterclockwise. It gave way. He spun it all the way to its original position. He swiftly worked to reverse each figure to where he had found it. As soon as he locked the final piece into place the green block atop the altar sunk down.

  “What did you do?” asked Jaxon heatedly. Reddic didn’t reply. He hovered over the altar as the block descended, silently observing. When it came to a rest the inexplicable happened.

  The top cover somehow slid open.

  The interior was hollowed out to a depth of six inches. A bundled-up piece of linen was the only item deposited inside. Reddic reached in to grab it. There was something inside the cloth. Holding it in his palm he unwrapped the covering.

  “Oh my gosh,” Jaxon exclaimed. “Please tell me I’m not seeing things.”

  “You’re not,” said Reddic, still not sure he believed what he held. “It’s real.”

  The mere sight of it mesmerized them. They were unable to pull their gaze away. In Reddic’s hand was a smooth white stone, maybe only two inches long. It had a transparent quality to it, as if it were made of glass. It was like no other stone either of them had ever seen.

  Reddic was
the first to look away. He still could not comprehend the inane obsession with this stone. Sure it was visually appealing like any precious gem, but that’s all it was, a gem, a rock. Nonetheless, Khalid Hasaan desperately wanted it, and now Reddic had it. Everything seemed to be working out as planned.

  Reddic covered the stone with the cloth and scooped up his backpack. “We’ve got to get this to Washington ASAP,” he said, carefully putting it away. Jaxon stepped forward in silent protest. “Don’t worry,” Reddic broke in. “I’ll make sure that it’s the central piece of your dissertation. Now let’s hurry.”

  They crawled back through the chamber opening and shot down the tunnel in a steady trot. They stopped just before arriving at the gated entrance. Reddic signaled Jaxon to put out his flashlight. Leaning in he whispered. “The guards probably smothered the fire by now, so we need to be invisible, okay?”

  Jaxon nodded.

  They edged their way up the short ramp and ducked under the metal roofing. With their backs against the Adosada they listened. There were no unusual sounds, only relative silence. Reddic tapped Jaxon on the chest and pointed east. Taking soft short steps they walked away from the pyramid.

  Suddenly, a beam of light shined up into their faces, temporarily blinding them. Reddic brought his hand up to shield his eyes. From the right a man lumbered out of the shadows and stood in front of them.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said. Reddic’s jaw almost dropped. He recognized that voice. He couldn’t believe his ears.

  It was Joseph Faulkner.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Astonishment was not a strong enough word to describe the predicament. Reddic was absolutely dumbfounded. With the precautions that he took it was a virtual impossibility that anyone could get this close without him noticing. But Faulkner was there, and had been waiting for them to come out of the pyramid. It was insanity!

  Footsteps seemed to close around them on all sides. Reddic pivoted around, taking a head count as he did so. There were six men, not counting Faulkner. One of them was Amjad Muhktaar. He could tell by his distinct profile. It was unmistakable. Even in the dark he could see the outline of his ferret face and crooked nose, and his thick bushy brows covering his narrow eyes.

  There was another one that Reddic recognized. All the other men in the group wore some type of dark garb fully covering their bodies, but this man didn’t. He was the only one wearing shorts. It was the same guy he had spotted at the bus station. He must have been the point man, assigned to trail and apprise the others. But how could he have followed them? Reddic never saw any other vehicles on the roadway that could have been tailing them. He made sure of it. He spent just as much time looking in the rearview mirror as he did through the front windshield.

  The only way somebody could pursue them without constant visual contact would be with an electronic tracking system. But if so, where was it located? He could eliminate the green Volkswagen as a possibility. It was too random. Unless, he thought, they planted a tracker there and left the keys inside the gas tank door knowing that it would have been the first place he would have checked. No way, he concluded, that plan would be too risky. Nobody could have predicted that he would have selected that particular car. Plus, there was still no explaining how they could have followed them all the way to the pyramids since they left the car in a parking lot two miles away. It had to be something else.

  In his mind Reddic reenacted the last encounter he had with Faulkner. He tried to remember if at any time he got close enough to where Faulkner could have planted a miniature homing beacon. He quickly decided that it was highly unlikely. He had intentionally kept his distance, primarily for that reason. Yet there was nothing on Jaxon either. Reddic performed a thorough sweep of his clothing before they left Salt Lake City. Not to mention they had already changed outfits twice since leaving the United States. The only item that Jaxon had on him was his cell phone.

  The thought slowly turned in Reddic’s mind until the realization of his own stupidity pounded at his head. It had to be the cell phone. He had made two calls to Faulkner on Jaxon’s phone, which meant that it was clearly in the vile man’s possession. Even the perfidious billionaire would have had a copious amount of time to install a low frequency tracking device. Reddic was beside himself. The fact that he disregarded such a possibility was frightening.

  He sighed heavily. His brother’s phone had led the enemy straight to them. He now had to accept the reality that his oversight may have made it impossible to get both of them out alive.

  “I commend you both on deciphering the códice,” Faulkner said insincerely. “Teotihuacán, certainly the last place I would have postulated. Although, the most unexpected occurrences are usually right out in front of you, are they not? I suppose that it does make sense when you consider that this monument has been a mystery to every scholar that has attempted to write about it. Fervent disagreement abounds whenever its purpose for existence is discussed. Nonetheless, we now know why these magnificent pyramids were erected, right gentlemen?”

  “How can you assume that?” asked Jaxon defiantly. “It’s inconsistent with every version of the Quetzalcoatl legend.”

  “Aw, but you see those legends are incomplete. The full story is much more stimulating.” Faulkner cleared his throat before continuing. “When the disciples of Tezcatlipoca intoxicated Topiltzin-Quetzalcoatl, the great ruler revealed to them the secret location of the Stone of Truth. When he did there was a change of power. As a result, poor Topiltzin was banished from Mesoamerica. For centuries, even before and after the disgraced monarch, whoever had possession of it ruled the land. Of course it changed hands several times before Moctezuma II got hold of it. After his demise it was never found again, until today that is.”

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong, buddy,” said Reddic. “The pyramid was a dead end. There’s nothing in there but a short tunnel and some jade figurines.” He rubbed his neck casually. “You can have a look if you’d like.”

  Without a word Muhktaar jumped forward and seized Jaxon from behind. He unsheathed a stiletto and held it to Jaxon’s neck. The point of the knife pricked his skin, causing blood to trickle out.

  “Hey!” Reddic shouted. “What are you doing?”

  “No more games, Mr. Smith,” Faulkner warned. “Give me the stone.”

  Reddic vacillated, paralyzed with indecision. He faced the one thing he hoped to avoid: choice. Choosing to complete his objective or choosing to save his brother’s life. The decision was tormenting. He had wrestled with the possibility over and over in his mind, each time concluding that personal matters were of secondary importance. He knew he could escape on his own. It wouldn’t be easy, but it could be done. However, everything changed when he locked eyes with his brother. He could see the anguish, the supplication for help. His life was in Reddic’s hands.

  “All right,” Reddic said. “I have it right here.” He held the backpack out for everyone to see. The henchman on Faulkner’s right marched forward to grab the pack.

  “Stay back, you fool!” Faulkner roared. “This is exactly what he wants you to do, can you not see? The minute you’re within an arm’s length he will have you and your weapon.”

  Reddic was stunned. How could a man like Faulkner have foreseen his intent? Was it just a lucky guess? He thought he made out a smirk on the old man’s face.

  “Remove the stone from your backpack with your left hand and place it on the ground. Move slowly, Mr. Smith, and keep your right hand in view. Any sudden movements will warrant a painful death for your brother. And this time I will not hesitate to do it.”

  Reddic meticulously did as Faulkner ordered. He dropped to a knee and gently placed the linen cloth on the gravel. As he backed away a light breeze picked up and unveiled the stone. At the sight of the precious jewel, Muhktaar shoved Jaxon away and scooped it up, holding it softly in both hands. On his knees he mumbled something in Arabic before raising the stone high above his head and crying out, “Al-Hjry Al-Hqyqt!” The
Stone of Truth!

  The armed terrorists fell to their knees and rhythmically chanted together. Reddic didn’t care to listen to what was being said. Instead he eyed Faulkner intently. The old man watched the proceedings with great amusement and satisfaction.

  “Amjad,” he said compassionately. “Come forth and deliver the stone.” He held out his hands, beckoning.

  Muhktaar’s eyes narrowed. His countenance turned icy. He reached for a gun inside his dark robe and aimed it at Faulkner’s head. “You are not worthy to hold our inheritance,” he howled scornfully. “I will deliver it to nobody but the Imam.”

  “Amjad,” Faulkner said, taking one-step forward. “Ana hw. Ana al-amam.”

  The words seemed to drain the blood from Muhktaar’s face. His cold expression dissolved into one that had seen a ghost. The other men looked around at one another, wondering if they had heard correctly. Confusion was written on every face.

  Reddic’s skin tingled. His instincts told him that if there was ever a chance to escape unharmed this was it. He shuffled over to Jaxon and bumped him with his hip. When he got his attention he nodded toward the Pyramid of the Moon. Jaxon understood the gesture and nodded back.

  Sliding his hand inside the backpack, Reddic felt for the flare. His hand made contact and in one motion he gripped, ignited, and tossed it at Faulkner’s feet. The flare burned hot and bright, stinging the eyes of anybody who looked directly at it. Jaxon raced across the Avenue of the Dead to the pyramid with Reddic in tow.

  Gunfire erupted, crashing into objects all around them just before they reached the tunnel’s entrance. They rushed down the ramp and pushed through the gate, momentarily evading the thundering bullets.

  Outside in the plaza Faulkner calmly took the stone and placed it in a small wooden box. Securing his prize, he grabbed one of the men by the collar, the man with the shorts, and spoke sternly in Arabic. “You stay behind. Nobody leaves that pyramid alive, understood?”