“I began the project on my own five years ago,” Chac continued. “Then, two summers ago Matt approached me asking if I’d be interested in partnering up for our projects.”
“What was he working on?” Dr. Peet asked.
“Jesus.”
Father Ruiz perked up. “Pardon me?”
“He was looking for evidence of Jesus.”
KC snorted. “I’d say he missed his mark. The holy land is over in the Middle East somewhere.”
“He’s not looking for Jerusalem,” Dr. Peet said. “BrighamYoung University has had a steady presence in Mesoamerican archaeology for nearly a century. They believe there’s evidence here of places and events described in the Book of Mormon.”
Despite Lori’s hard feelings, there was something comforting about listening to him talk. After all, the majority of her collegiate career had been centered upon his instruction. It was hard letting go of the familiar.
“Profesor Webb’s attempt to bring Muslims, Jews and Christians together cost him his job,” Father Ruiz said, continuing the conversation that seemed not to have noticed Lori’s withdrawal.
KC laughed. “What was he thinking?” she asked, wringing water from her hair. “Christians alone can’t agree whose denomination is right much less accept other religions.”
“Losing his job may not necessarily have curbed Matt’s interest in Mesoamerican archaeology,” Dr. Peet said. “The Mormons are dedicated to validating their doctrine.”
“He may be performing his religious exchange experiment on his own now,” Father Ruiz added.
Lori noticed the troubled look on Chac’s chiseled face. It was as though he was listening to them talk about a complete stranger.
“Didn’t Dr. Webb tell you any of this?” she asked.
“It seems there are a number of things he neglected to tell me,” Chac admitted. “And now he seems to have mysteriously disappeared.”
“Did he hint at where he might have gone?” Dr. Peet pressed.
Chac shook his head. “I can’t imagine him wanting to go anywhere. We hadn’t even finished documenting our latest fresco. He was excited about it.”
“What could be so exciting about a fresco?” KC asked.
They all looked at her, Lori perhaps holding the most surprise. Clearly KC didn’t have an archaeologist’s appreciation for fingerprinting the past. Even Father Ruiz looked a bit surprised by her blunt statement.
“I was hoping to disprove a claim that it signatured Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl presence in Chichen Itza,” Lori offered.
“Quetzalcoatl, Kukulkan,” Chac said in a steady tone. “It doesn’t matter what name you choose to call him. To Matt Webb, that fresco is the most compelling evidence of Jesus’ presence in the new world.”
Mayaland
Lori choked the swan perched on her hotel bed and shook out the length of the pristine white towel from which it had been twisted and shaped and carried it through the double glass doors where Dr. Peet waited, dripping on the veranda tile. He gratefully accepted the towel, folded it in half and laid it across the cushion of his wicker chair and finally sat down where he unlaced his sloshing boots.
Lori waited patiently as she spied a peacock strutting through the lush gardens sprawling just beyond. From the terra cotta pots edging the veranda to the brick-paved footpaths webbing around fountains and thatch-roofed bungalows, the gardens thrived with the lively calls of exotic birds fluttering in the canopy, showcasing all the romance and flair expected of a tropical resort, right down to the lanky royal palms framing the view of Chichen Itza’s ruins.
Lori couldn’t quite convince herself that she deserved such luxury. After all, the Mayaland Hotel had been booked solid for nearly two years in anticipation of December 21, 2012. Gabriella had made plans accordingly. Lori was a last minute arrival. However, Mike and Gabriella happily turned over their reservation for a couple of days, opting to enjoy the coast in Cancun while Lori met with Dr. Webb. For two days Lori had a place to stay but after that she would be on her own and she wasn’t about to argue. Considering the lavish suite that had just welcomed her, Lori almost regretted her earlier impatience with Mike’s car and Gabriella’s colors.
As Dr. Peet peeled off his dripping socks, Lori heard the shower kick on in the bathroom where KC was already washing off. Less than ten minutes ago, Chac had agreed to drive Father Ruiz back to the landing strip to collect a change of clothes for the sacrificed couple while Lori offered them her room to clean up. Now, there was something awkward about being in the room herself. The elegant suite was intended for lovers, not a researching anthropology student.
“Why don’t I wait for you two in the main terrace,” she suggested. It was awkward enough to be in the presence of a man who had spent the last semester avoiding her. Now she suffered an acute flash of third wheel syndrome.
Lori backtracked through the glass doors and hurried across the single-bed room. Just as she was about to flee the suite, Dr. Peet called after her.
“Lori, wait.”
She stopped with the door ajar in her hands. There was something heavy in his voice, something authoritative. A part of her suddenly anticipated an explanation, an answer to the question that had been plaguing her for months.
Why did Dr. Peet, her greatest mentor, abandon her?
The soppy man sloshed back into the spacious room and stood dripping on the hardwood floor, an unmistakable blemish to the hand-carved mahogany framework and tropical flowers intricately placed within the generous fill of sunlight. This was the man that had instructed her throughout her collegiate career, who had helped her retrieve the Effigy of Quetzalcoatl from the earth, the very same man that had saved her life while recovering the artifact in Mexico City. Surely he was finally going to deliver an overdue explanation.
“Please,” he said. “Shut the door.”
Lori hesitantly complied, all too aware of the shower still running in the bathroom. She lowered herself to the edge of the bed beside the towel-swan’s mate and waited, smelling Dr. Peet’s mud-musky scent as he pulled up a chair in front of her.
“Matt Webb isn’t the only reason I’m here,” he began.
Lori held her breath, her mind racing ahead, groping for his next words. Had he followed her here? No, that wouldn’t make sense. Who would travel so far just to make an admission? She thought of KC and Father Ruiz. Had he come to get married? Was he already on his honeymoon?
“I’m looking for John,” he said, bringing Lori’s clambering mind to a jarring halt. Her expectations collapsed beneath the weight of disappointment.
“Dr. Friedman?”
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
She thought a moment, her eyes dropping from the wet shirt molded to Dr. Peet’s chest to her own hiking shoes tucked against the papaya colored bedspread. Six months ago she and Dr. Peet had consulted Dr. John Friedman in their search for the stolen effigy. His expertise in Mesoamerican astronomy had helped piece together the thief’s motives. Since the recovery Dr. Friedman spent a lot of time with the museum in Mexico City, occasionally e-mailing them with updates on the Effigy’s exhibit.
“I talked to Dr. Friedman two weeks ago,” she said. “I called him to see if he’d be willing to show Dr. Webb’s fresco to me. He said he was too tied up in Mexico City, so he hooked me up with Dr. Webb himself who agreed to meet me here in Chichen Itza. But by the time I got here Dr. Webb was gone. Why do you want to know?”
The filmy white curtains reached for Dr. Peet’s bare ankles, temporarily pulling his attention away. He shut the glass doors, effectively muffling the birds outside and blocking the breeze that had blown life into the room. It was as though he intended to punctuate his next words with the sudden stillness.
“Matt isn’t the only one missing.”
Lori listened as Dr. Peet filled her in on the Effigy’s theft from the museum. She thought it was a joke at first. After all, what were the chances of an artifact getting stolen twice? Dr. Peet explained th
e breach in the museum’s security codes. He told her about the videos from the security cameras and Dr. Friedman’s sudden disappearance. It all raised suspicions, but how was any of it possible? Why would the highly-respected anthropologist steal the Effigy?
“There’s something else,” Dr. Peet continued. “The Effigy turned up at the Metropolitan Cathedral. It appears to have been exchanged for a reliquary cross which has yet to be found.”
“Ah,” Lori said. “That explains the priest. So you’ve come to Chichen Itza not only looking for Dr. Webb and Dr. Friedman, but this stolen cross as well.”
“In a nutshell. I suspect Matt may be preparing to deposit the cross amid some Mayan 2012 ritual.” He sighed as if regretting what he was about to say next. “I fear John aided this religious experiment by handing him the Effigy.”
Lori considered a moment, but something about Dr. Peet’s reasoning didn’t fit right. “That doesn’t sound like Dr. Friedman at all,” she argued. “He would never allow something so reckless, let alone participate in it.”
“I agree, but it’s the only way I can make heads or tails of this whole situation.”
Lori felt herself stiffen, her thoughts darkening. Obviously Dr. Peet wasn’t going to give what he owed her, and yet she felt him reaching for assistance as though it was expected of her.
“Now you’ve come looking for my help,” she stated accusingly.
Dr. Peet looked surprised. “Looking? No. I didn’t even know you were here,” he said. “I was just hoping this vague trail with Matt and the reliquary cross would somehow lead me to John.”
Lori crossed her arms. “Why are you telling me all of this if you aren’t looking for my help?”
“I guess I was hoping you’d want to help,” he admitted. “Dr. Friedman is our colleague.”
“You say that as though you and I are partners.”
Dr. Peet’s face fell blank. “Are we not?”
“You tell me, Dr. Peet. You haven’t spoken a word to me since Mexico City. You avoid me on campus. Hell, Dr. Friedman keeps in touch better than you do. What gives?”
A knock came at the door. Peet sprang to his feet, all too eager for an escape. With an irritable sigh, Lori all but collapsed within herself. She was just gearing herself up for the conversation she desperately needed and now Dr. Peet left her hanging there with a mix of emotions boiling inside. She ached for the openness she once had with him. They’d gone through too much to dissolve into estranged acquaintances and yet Dr. Peet’s behavior was putting his reliability into question.
Lori needed a release. She needed to scream at the man. Just what had she done to deserve this?
Dr. Peet answered the door, promptly allowing Chac and Father Ruiz in with fresh clothes. That’s when Lori realized the shower had stopped running. A moment later the bathroom belched a cloud of soapy steam around KC’s refreshed figure. She was wrapped in a long, white bathrobe, scrubbing her head with a towel. “I thought I’d never get that smell out of my hair,” she groaned.
Suddenly, the room was alive, shattering Lori’s chance to settle with Dr. Peet. Lori’s mind quickly shifted gears. One troubling fact remained—Dr. Friedman was missing. Denying Dr. Peet wasn’t going to find their friend.
* * * *
“I don’t think Dr. Webb is conducting a religious exchange,” Lori said, catching Peet by surprise. Even Chac and Father Ruiz paused to consider her words. Only KC appeared to not have heard as she finished toweling her wet hair.
“What benefit would there be?” Lori continued. “He may introduce traditional Maya to Catholicism, but why bring the ancient and relatively inactive religion of Quetzalcoatl to the Catholics?”
“Not to mention Matt is Mormon,” Peet agreed.
Chac nodded in agreement. “And the fact that Matt was in the middle of interpreting his fresco, something he claimed was going to give the Mormons more respectability among the religious communities. I doubt even the coming Christmas holiday could pull him away from that.”
“He probably made some big breakthrough,” KC spouted as she sorted through the clothes Father Ruiz brought her.
Peet glanced at Chac, giving KC’s flippant comment a moment’s credit.
Chac shook his head. “We were working together. The only breakthrough he had was finding his Jesus fresco. From then on he was consumed with cleaning and preserving it, not to mention documenting every piece of data he could pull before he chose to unveil it to the world.”
“Maybe he found something he didn’t tell you about, Chac,” Peet suggested, taking his neatly folded clothes off the man’s hands. He set them aside on the bed. The shirt was going to need ironed but not before he took his turn in the shower. It was going to feel good getting out of the stinking, itchy clothes still clinging uncomfortably to his body. “Do you think he could have returned to finish his work on the fresco without you?”
Chac shrugged. “I suppose he could have, but it’s unlikely. It’s risky going there alone.”
“Maybe he took the risk and found himself on the losing end of his gamble.”
“If he did he went without his gear,” Chac said, taking a seat in a hand-carved mahogany chair. “I found it all in the back of his Ford Explorer which is still parked at his residence in Piste.”
Peet noticed Lori pacing, her mind deep in thought. He knew that distant look, that studious expression that indicated she’d withdrawn inside herself to work out a problem. That was something he’d always liked about her. It didn’t matter the problem, she was always up to the challenge, turning the problem around in her mind, getting a good look at every possible angle and often finding something there that hadn’t been considered before.
In that moment he had to admire her ability to change gears, or was it her tact for not lingering on a personal grudge in the company of others? Peet knew she’d been fishing in their earlier conversation. He should have taken the bait while he had the chance. After all, it was the first time they’d been alone together in months.
Ever since they recovered the stolen Effigy they’d been bombarded by people. First it was the onslaught of news reporters and journalists. The notoriety hadn’t had the chance to die down before he was off on the field study exhuming The Trader’s body. Denying Lori a position on the field crew had created a rift between them, and the tension only worsened as they progressed into the demands of another school year. He just assumed she was distancing herself from him, and anyone else associated with the dig.
Or at least that’s what he told himself.
“Wait a minute,” Lori said, turning her attention on Chac. “Back at the ruins you told me Dr. Webb found evidence of Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl’s arrival in Yucatan. But now you’re telling me he found Jesus instead? I don’t understand.”
Chac leaned back in his chair with a smile. “It’s quite simple,” he said. “Matt believes Quetzalcoatl is Jesus. He believed the Maya were describing Jesus when they described the pale-faced, bearded man who brought wisdom from the east. But the Maya didn’t know him as Jesus; they only knew him as Kukulcan.”
“Then there must be something in that fresco that Dr. Webb picked up on,” Lori pressed. “Maybe it led him to another site that offers more three-dimensional evidence of his theory. It could be he was in too great of a hurry to tell anyone.”
“Again, how did he get to the site without his vehicle?” Chac asked. “Not to mention he left all his gear behind.”
Peet cleared his throat. “Can you show us this fresco he found?”
Chac shrugged his heavy shoulders. “I can’t imagine what that fresco could possibly offer, but you’re welcome to judge for yourself. There’s just one thing I need to know first.”
He glanced at Lori, then back to Peet.
“How well can you swim?”
Part II
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Uinal
“Whatever might be is simply not there: only murmurs, ripples, in the dark, in the night. Only the Maker
, Modeler alone, Sovereign Plumed Serpent, the Bearers, Begetters are in the water, a glittering light. They are there; they are enclosed in quetzal feathers, in blue-green.”
Popol Vuh
* * * *
Chicxulub
“Scuba Blue,” Lori said as Chac helped her mount the dual air tanks onto her back.
“Pardon me?” Chac asked.
“It’s a color someone once described to me,” Lori said. “See that cruise liner out there?”
Overhearing the conversation, Peet turned his attention away from his own gear to spot the ship Lori was referring to. Judging by its size the ship was enormous, despite the considerable distance. The bright morning sun gleaming off the water gave its pristine profile a shimmering effect. It was beautiful, serene, surreal.
“It looks like a squashed wedding cake skimming over a Scuba Blue sea,” Lori said.
Chac chuckled as he worked over her equipment. It was the first time Peet had seen the man really lighten up. Then again, Lori had a way of doing that. She affected him much the same way, though this morning, he found himself admiring her humor from a distance. Her enthusiasm, it seemed, was reserved for Chac Bacab. Meanwhile, she appeared to make a point of avoiding eye contact with Peet.
Perhaps that was why he fought the impulse to keep a close eye on the Mayan archaeologist. It was completely irrational, he knew. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Chac. Lori seemed to trust him completely. It was more a matter of longing for the confidence she once placed in him. But what did it matter? It wasn’t like Lori was going to be around after she graduated in the spring anyway. She was a student, he kept telling himself. Eventually she would be moving on to new projects with new partners.
He just wished he didn’t have to witness the transition first hand.
As Chac helped Lori into her awkward diving gear, Peet couldn’t help but notice the sun glistened over the curves of her black wetsuit. He rebuked his eyes for lingering. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the opposite sex. His admonition was a residue reaction to fraternizing suspicions back at the university—suspicions that nearly cost him his tenure. Although the accusations were proven false, the conclusion came long after he’d already fallen into the habit of checking his every move around his students—checking every word, every glance, every motion—an inner paranoia nurtured to prevent rumor validation.
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