by S. D. BROWN
"How big is it?" a man asked.
"60 meters, in diameter. For you Americans, that’s 200 feet. And it's 27 meters or 89 feet, down to the water table."
His lecture continued another ten minutes. It took another five until he'd answered additional one-on-one questions. We waited in the shade.
"Ancient life sounds pretty harsh," J.T. said. "It's one thing to rip out the hearts of your enemies for your gods, but what kind of parents would bring their kids here to be sacrificed? Tossed in a well to drown?"
"During droughts they believed it was necessary for survival," I said. "It's how they practiced their religion."
"Doesn't sound like religion to me."
I really didn't want to have this conversation. If god did exist, I was not a fan. "You do realize, the number of atrocities perpetrated by religion? Christianity is the worst."
"It's men who did the horrible things in the name of God, but that's not religion."
I allowed myself a bitter laugh. Remembered the untimely death of my parents. "How could a benevolent god allow evil to exist?"
An uncomfortable silence blossomed between us. Hopefully this job would end soon. The less time I spent with this boy, the better. J.T. touched my arm and I felt a shiver set off a host of tingles.
"Stand next to the cenote," he said. "And I'll take a picture of you. Pretend you're about to fall in."
He snapped my photo. "Okay," I said. "Your turn."
He put on a frightened look, wide eyes above a terrified grimace, and leaned back like he was about to plunge into the murky depths. "I'm about to be sacrificed."
I laughed. He made it impossible to stay mad at him for long. He was too funny.
I took the photo and felt bad as I sent it to Harry, along with the one of the decapitated warrior. Still I hoped they'd do the trick. Were strong enough emotional blackmail to make J.T.'s father talk. Convince him that his son was in easy reach and could end up as a sacrifice if he didn't cooperate with Uncle Monte.
"Hey. Perez is alone." J.T. headed toward the man and I followed. "Mr. Perez?"
The man smiled. "How can I help you?"
J.T. pulled out the man's business card. "Last week you gave this to my dad. I think he came to see you on Tuesday. I was wondering if you remembered him? I've got a picture."
Mr. Perez took the photograph, studied it and smiled. "Yes. Mr. Chapman. Actually he visited twice."
"Twice?"
"Yes. The first time wasn't really to visit the site. He was more interested about the natural underground river system of the Yucatan. Your father is really knowledgeable, a pleasure to talk to. I lent him a book from my personal library. He came back the next day to return it with some friends. I led them on a private tour of the upper city."
"Friends?" J.T. said, looking confused.
"Could we see the book?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Unfortunately, someone else was interested and I lent it out. I guess it's a popular book."
"What's the title?" I asked. Maybe I could access its contents with the net-shades.
"Underground Rivers of the Yucatan, by Carlos Reveles."
"Who were the people with him?" J.T. asked.
"Mr. and Mrs. Smith from Cincinnati, Ohio."
Another group of people surrounded Mr. Perez and started asking him questions about the site.
"Thank you for your time," I said and let J.T. lead me back down the hot dusty trail toward the main pyramid. "At least we have some answers."
"Yeah," J.T. said. "And more questions. Hey, are you okay?"
Suddenly I felt faint. Had my batteries lost their charge already? This couldn't be happening. It was less than twenty-four hours since my last plug in. "I need a restroom. There's one down to the right, I think."
My legs grew weak. I stumbled.
J.T. put his arm under my left arm and half carried me. I was relieved to see the toilet facilities had electricity. Hopefully I could find an electrical outlet and could discretely recharge.
"You need help getting inside?" he asked, looking uncomfortable. "Maybe I should get a doctor."
"I'll be fine. I just need some shade, water and . . ." I blushed. "Just give me five or ten minutes."
All I needed was enough energy to get me to the car. Then I could plug into the car's battery and fully recharge on the ride back to the resort.
Inside the restroom was hot, stuffy and smelled like a latrine. Please let me find a power outlet.
A woman was at the sink, washing her hands. She turned and I was face-to-face with Dharma.
"Hello, Rena is it?" she said with a too bright smile. "Fancy meeting you here."
18: J.T.
The eyes of the LORD are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.
Proverbs 15:3
Chichén Itzá
Yucatan Peninsula
I waited on a shaded bench for Rena and went over everything I'd learned so far.
One. Dad was missing. Probably kidnapped.
Two. The last person to see him was Perez over a week ago. Sweat broke out on my temples.
Three. Dharma and Trace might be Dad's employees, but they were hiding something. I had to find out what.
Four. And the most chilling. Dad knew he was in danger. Why else had he written the note?
Plus, I had a ton more questions. What did Gramps have to do with this? And was Dad just a P.R. officer or was he a spy? How were the Mexican police involved? Was Raul working for them? That would be a total bummer, because he was one of the two friends I'd made on this vacation.
Which brought me to Rena. I'd made a total fool of myself talking about religion. Why else was she taking so long in the bathroom?
On second thought, I hoped she was okay. She had looked kind of pale. There was no way I was going into the ladies bathroom, but maybe I could ask some female-type to check on her.
I got up, stretched my neck and went over to the restrooms.
The door pushed open just as I got there. Perfect timing. I'd ask whoever came out if they'd seen Rena and if she looked okay.
Great. It was Dharma.
"What are you doing here?" I said. "I told you to leave me alone." I scanned the area looking for Trace. Forgetting I wanted to pump them for information.
"You must really like that girl," she said. "Waiting around in the heat while she recharges her phone."
"Where's Trace?" I didn't bother to sound polite. I had an uneasy feeling that time was running out.
Dharma smiled. "Don't you recognize him?" She waved at a tall hippy guy with long blond hair and mustache, wearing a Mayan headband, peasant shirt, holey jeans and dusty huarache sandals.
He flashed us the peace sign and ambled over. There was no way I would've ever recognized him. His disguise was right on. Looked like a real hippie from the sixties in my history book.
"Peace brother," he said. "Sister, why don't you do a little sightseeing while I have a little one-on-one with the little man."
Dharma rolled her eyes. "He's all yours."
Trace waited until she was out of sight and then motioned for us to sit on the bench I'd just vacated.
"You've got to stop dogging me," I said, thinking I'd let him think I didn't want to see him, and pump him for information.
He held up his hand. "Hold on. There's something it's time you knew, but you have to keep it under your hat. Think you can do that?
I nodded.
"Your father and I are special troubleshooters for Madison Hunter Corporation. Our job is to protect the company's assets. We work under the radar."
"Like spies?"
"Sort of. We don't aggressively gather intel on our competitors, but we do everything in our power to keep their corporate spies from getting their hands on our new inventions. Medical technology is moving so fast we can't afford to lose our edge."
"What about Dharma? She a spy, too"
"No. Just an office assistant. Opens mail. Types letters. In general makes herself useful. She th
inks I'm her assistant."
"Is what you and my dad do, legal?" I asked, almost afraid of his answer. It was cool that Dad was a spy, but I didn't want him to be a criminal.
"Totally legal. Usually. We're kind of like a firewall to stop infiltration from competing corporations. Like Santana Biotech Industries. They've made millions stealing research and claiming it as their own."
"Why doesn't someone stop them?"
"It's too complicated to explain." Trace smoothed his mustache, nodded and let out a huge sigh. "What I need you to do. . . is to return to the resort and stay there until we retrieve your father."
"So you know where he is? And who took him?"
"We received a ransom demand from Santana's men ten minutes ago."
"What does he want?"
"The return of two scientists who defected from his organization. They arrived in Cancun last week, went on a pyramid tour and never returned to their hotel. Santana believes your father is responsible and knows where they're hiding."
"Does he?"
Trace shrugged. "Don't know. If he was involved, it was a solo assignment."
"Do you know where Santana is holding him?"
"No. Not yet."
"Can I see the ransom demand?"
Trace pulled out his phone, dialed voice mail and handed it over.
"You have one saved message," said a mechanical voice. Then came my dad's voice; obviously reading a prepared statement. "My kidnappers demand the return of their missing science team. At 11:00 am tomorrow, you are to escort them to La Capilla Catolica on the Isle of Mujeres. If they don't appear, my son J.T. will bear their punishment and I will face death."
The call ended with my dad shouting out a painful, "Ooooooooffff," as if someone had slammed him with a baseball bat in the kidneys.
In spite of the heat, suddenly I turned stone cold and felt like I was about to hurl.
"Now you see why I didn't want you to leave the resort. And why I need you to get back there A.S.A.P. Stay in your room. Don't go anywhere. Don't talk to anyone. Just hole up so I don't have to worry about you. That way I can concentrate on rescuing your father."
"I'm a grown person. I'm not going to hide out at the resort. This is my dad we're talking about. I'm going to find him."
"Don't go causing me trouble, kid. Leave this to the professionals. Just go back to the resort and wait for word from me. Or do I need to have the police escort you?"
"Chill out. I'll go," I said, thinking he was an idiot if he thought I'd sit around and do nothing while my dad's life was at stake.
"Good boy," Trace said and disappeared into the growing crowd of tourists.
My stomach rumbled. Once Rena reappeared, next on the agenda was lunch. I needed to fuel my brain so it'd kick in to gear.
"Thanks for your patience."
I looked up. Rena smiled at me.
"Feeling better?" I asked and stood.
"Much better," she said. "You ready to leave?"
I nodded. "Sure."
People still streamed in the entrance as we exited. The parking lot was full, but it didn't stop hopeful drivers cruising for a parking place near the entrance.
At least we'd make someone happy.
We headed for the Mustang convertible. The sun's rays had shifted, but most of the car was still in the shade. What was missing was Raul. Maybe he'd taken a little Coca Cola break.
"Looks like Raul's a magician," Rena said. "He's performed a disappearing act. I hope you have the keys."
"Do I look stupid?" I held the car keys up, at the same time scanned the lot. "Maybe he went for a pit stop. We have been gone a while."
"More likely once he realized we were on to him, he ran. I'll give him points for not stealing the car."
"You really don't like him, do you?"
"Call it a girl's intuition."
That's when I spotted a paper under the windshield wiper. "Hey. It's a note from him." I read the neatly printed block letters out loud.
SORRY.
HAD TO LEAVE.
FAMILY EMERGENCY.
RAUL
19: Serena
The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.
Henry David Thoreau
Mexico 180D Toll Road
Yucatan Peninsula
"You don't mind if I lay down?" I asked, climbing into the back seat of the car. "I feel a migraine pushing at me. If I can relax and listen to some soothing Mozart, maybe I'll sleep and it'll pass."
"It's probably the heat," J.T. said. "You look hot."
"I feel hot."
"I'll get us some water." He popped open the trunk and retrieved two chilled bottles from the ice chest in the back. He drank his in one giant gulp. I sipped mine to savor the cool trickling sensation that ran from my mouth to my belly.
"Go ahead and sleep. I'll wake you when we get there."
"Thanks."
I unhooked my necklace and caught his gaze studying me in the rearview mirror. I smiled tentatively. "I don't like to sleep in this. I'm afraid it might break."
"Want me to put it in the glove box for safe keeping?"
"That's okay. It'll be fine on the seat." I gave him a little princess wave and lay down. I slipped on a pair of ear buds so it would look like I was listening to music. Without any further delay, I prepared the chain-power-cord and inserted it into the car's backseat battery port.
The car started to ease out of the parking space. At the same time a car blasting mariachi music screeched to a halt right behind us.
J.T. slammed on the brakes. My hand shot forward to keep from toppling onto the floor.
"Sorry, you okay?" he asked. "The driver's waving for me to back up. He wants our space."
"I'm fine."
"Good."
I looped the center seatbelt around my waist and snapped it in place. Not too comfortable, but better than sustaining an unnecessary injury.
I lie on my back, felt for the mole port in my neck, popped it open and plugged in. Closing my eyes, I felt the prickling surge of energy begin to rejuvenate my cells. I slept.
I awoke with a jolt. A car door slammed and I felt my bed shudder. For a moment I forgot I'd fallen asleep in the backseat. Plugged in. I reached under my hair and disconnected before opening my eyes and sitting up.
We were at a petrol station. J.T. seemed focused on pushing the correct buttons on the petrol pump.
Quickly I reverted the power cord back into a chain, slipped the silver pyramid onto it and clipped it around my neck.
"Hey, sleepyhead. Feel better? You look better." His face turned red and he started to fuel the car. "Not that you looked bad."
"I feel great," I said, pulling the ear buds from my ears. "Is it lunch time yet?"
"About an hour-and-a-half ago. Didn't want to wake you."
"Well I'm starving." And I was. I was fully charged.
"Let's just grab some tacos." He pointed to a little food shack next to the station. "We can eat on the road."
"Sounds great. I'll get them while you pay. What kind? How many?"
"Six," he said. "You choose."
I bought a mixed dozen of chicken, beef and fish. No lettuce or tomatoes. Just cheese and protein. No point in tempting fate and eating something that could make us sick.
Back on the road, feeling full and energized, I could focus on the job again. I checked the side mirror for Harry and Mum. Didn't see them or Dharma and friend. Maybe they assumed we were headed for the resort and had passed us up when we'd stopped.
Dark gray clouds formed overhead and effectively lowered the temperature so that for the first time it was comfortable. Pleasant even. The balmy wind caressed my skin as we sped toward the coastline. Things seemed to be going according to Uncle Monte's plan. I just wished I knew what the full plan entailed. I didn't like being in the dark.
"A peso for your thoughts," J.T. said. He grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. Something was off with him. Had it happened at Chichén Itzá when I was in
the restroom? Ever since then it seemed like he was carrying an invisible burden.
At first I thought it was because of Raul. Now I wasn't so sure. Something or someone seemed to have stolen J.T.'s innocence.
"I'll give you five, for yours," I said.
His face turned serious and he shrugged. "I need to apologize."
"For what?"
"How I went off on the religion thing earlier. It's because something's happened and I want to believe it's going to turn out okay. Sorry if I offended you."
"You didn't." Pause. "Can you tell me what it is?"
He hesitated. "I stretched the truth a bit."
"About what? You're not fourteen?"
He attempted a pitiful smile and shook his head. "My dad's missing and it's for real. It's not a game we're playing. He's been kidnapped."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. There's been a ransom demand."
"Someone contacted you? Asking for money?"
"No. Not money. And no, they didn't contact me, but someone who works for my dad." He licked his lips. "His name is Trace and I don't think he's up to the job."
"That's awful," I said.
"If they don't get what they want, they'll kill him. They threatened me, too."
That didn't sound right. J.T. was supposed to be a pawn, not a victim. His father is the one who had to pay the price for my parent's death. Not his son.
"Trace ordered me back to the resort so he can rescue Dad. But that's a joke. Trace doesn't have a clue where Dad is."
"What do they want? Can you give it to them?"
He pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and looked at me. "While you were sleeping, I've been thinking. Remember Perez said Dad was with some friends from Cincinnati?"
"Yeah."
"I think they're scientists and I think Dad helped them escape."
"Escape? From who?"
"Santana Biotech Industries. They steal research and claim it's theirs."
"That sounds a little farfetched." What he was claiming was totally ridiculous. Uncle Monte was a genius and a philanthropist. He didn't need to steal other men's research. Something else didn't make sense either. "Why would scientists need to escape? If they didn't like their job, why didn't they just quit?"