The squabble held no interest for Teodoro. He rubbed green slime off the stone and showed them the carved outline of a human-like bat. “This is the tomb of my people.”
José glanced into the canopy. “Espere! Wait!”
The thud of rotors mimicked thunder. Remy raced to his backpack and fired a flare, a real smile on his face. His accomplices buzzed the air overhead.
The helicopter banked and between the treetops Diego saw flashes of it as it returned. A metal trunk crashed thirty yards away barely stabilized by the parachute designed to cushion its descent.
Remy, beaming, pounded Teodoro on the back. “You’re a genius.”
The sorcerer stepped out of his partner’s reach. “Open our supplies. Tomorrow we enter. José, clear a space for our new camp.”
Remy squared his shoulders. “We enter now.”
Teodoro stiffened. “We wait. The tremors have weakened the structure. We need to shore the walls and ceiling.”
“That’s bull.”
Teodoro stepped aside. “Very well, enter. But you enter alone.”
Procteur hesitated. José still held his gun. Diego wasn’t going to help him neither was Mercedes. He folded.
Almost too late for nightfall came fast in the jungle, José hacked a circle for camp. A cloudburst paid a visit and quickly disappeared leaving behind dense humidity. Then José and Remy alternated chopping trees. Finally the jailers made their beds. Mercedes and Diego did the same. Before complete darkness José and Diego dragged the newly arrived trunk—it resembled a metal casket--into the center of the freshly hewn site. Remy unbuckled metal belts and raised the top. Among other supplies stood stacks of cardboard. With a snap of his wrists the perforated sheets split into compartments. Mercedes could not resist a peek.
“Ornament boxes. The kind you use for Christmas decorations.”
“Tomorrow we stuff ‘em with artifacts,” boasted Remy.
The evening meal consisted of a three-grain protein bar and coffee. Mercedes threw the wrapper in the fire and returned to her bed near Diego’s. He needed to enter the woods, but she would not let him.
“If you care for me at all, tell me what’s going on. How are they controlling you?”
Diego had not been able to find the cure. His strength waned and she had a right to know since he might die before Teodoro made the decision for him. “Do you remember the night in the gallery?”
“When I fainted?”
He nodded. “You were poisoned.”
“Teodoro?”
“Yes. To keep the poison under control, you must have the antidote every day. Certain things affect the potency.”
“Like transporting me? Like altitude?”
He nodded.
“The curator played a part too, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she delivered the drug. Teodoro said it would be a good joke on me.”
They sat in silence.
“So. Teodoro gave us a clue. Our job is to solve the mystery. Think. Could you have a connection to the poison or the source of the poison?”
“I do not know.”
Suddenly, exasperated, she held the seed to his nose. “We’re out of time. Take its scent. Follow it. Change into a wolf.”
“It has no scent. That much I can tell from here.”
“I’ll crush it.”
“That is reckless.”
“I’d rather take my chances with you than hope for mercy from this crowd.”
* * *
Mercedes wrapped the seed in a palm leaf and smashed it with a rock. In the weak light of a kerosene lamp the flakes sparkled.
A rustle in the thick dark leaves set her nerves crackling. She glanced at Teodoro and Remy glad they were snoring. The official guard seemed to be unofficially dozing, but she could not be sure.
The bushes parted. Red eyes bored into her. The animal’s coat shined gray and sleek, the snout longer, the canines vicious. Her fingers shook as she unsealed the leaf. Emptying the contents into her trembling hand, she offered the sacrifice to the wolf Diego had become. He growled, perhaps a warning not to pet.
“Please, get the scent.” She hated the desperation in her voice.
Diego sniffed. She rested her hand on her knee to control the trembling, but when his nose touched her palm, she jumped shooting particles into the air, dispersing them like miniscule bits of salt on the forest floor. Diego plunged his snout into them snorting and pawing the ground.
She buried her face in her hand. When she opened her eyes, she was alone. Like a wolf she licked the traces of the antidote from her skin.
Sleep would not come. She watched Diego walk into camp.
His skin appeared more fragile. When he blinked, his eyelids moved in slow motion. They told her he’d had no luck.
“The sample was too contaminated and my skills are not what they were when I roamed the museum.”
“Go to bed. Regain some strength.”
If she wanted to save him and herself, she would have to negotiate with a madman.
Remy staggered out of the forest. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to Diego’s sleeping form. “Dead meat’s lookin’ like week-old pizza.”
She pulled free. “You’re going to meet a really bad end.”
“So? You die today. I’m goin’ to watch your writhing body.”
“Which proves you’re still a jerk.” She pivoted and walked to Teodoro who eyed her as if she were already dust.
She knelt on the ground, felt dampness as her knees dug into the freshly cleared surface. “I don’t think you should let me die. I’m asking you to show me mercy. The others don’t know how to handle the artifacts. Let me help in return for life.”
“Where is the second seed?”
“Crushed.”
“Whose fault is that? I have a task to complete. I cannot vary my plan. I must honor my ancestors.”
“With our deaths? Wasn’t I part of the recovery program originally?”
“That was just a cover. You’re a novice. Your destiny is written.”
“My aunt protected other cultures. She’s my ancestor. You brought me here to do a job at least that falsehood shared in the pretense. Please, provide me with the means to finish the task.” For an instant Mercedes thought she’d made headway, but he sauntered into the jungle and didn’t look back.
Chapter 16
Mercedes greeted the morning sitting on her hands trying to control the spasms shooting up her arms. She wanted to move closer to Diego—paler than she’d ever seen him--but her legs had gone to oatmeal. Who would die first, she wondered. Suddenly Teodoro stepped out from behind ropes of lianas. She was too weak to be alarmed.
“Come to watch me die?”
“No. Remy now says you have another use.”
“Wash windows?”
“My poison hasn’t stilled your tongue.” He pulled a leaf-wrapped seed from under his headband. He peeled away the covering.
She stared at it. “The seed’s fatter than the others and looks a little sticky. How many doses?”
“One. The size varies. I can only guess about the potency. I have never used it before.”
“Gee, that’s reassuring. Do you have more?”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps you like torturing me.” She glanced over at Diego. “What will you do to him?”
“Take his place.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Hardly. The jungle cannot satisfy his needs yet he refuses to take human blood. Something I would do. He is killing himself. That is crazy.” His eyes glinted. “Take the medicine before I change my mind and if I were you, I’d lick my fingers to make sure I got it all.”
“You’re the boss. I’ll do anything to stay alive.”
Teodoro marched to the fire. He selected a smoldering branch and waved smoke over his body. Without a moment’s hesitation he stripped and repeated the process. Her tremors eased from the “meds” but were replaced by goose bumps.
The ritual had begun.
The sorcerer scampered to the entrance of the tomb, his movements odd, like a chimpanzee walking on two legs. He inserted the smoking branch into the fissure. Mercedes couldn’t take her eyes off him and neither could anyone else. Only Diego missed the performance.
Still holding the smoldering branch Teodoro faced the camp and waved his arm. “It is time. Gather round.”
Mercedes shook her head. “I’m not stripping. No way I want to see any more naked bodies. None of that.”
Teodoro glanced at her. “Only I am worthy to enter first.”
“That’s great news.”
He focused on Remy. “Bring the support logs. We must hurry.”
Would she have to go the whole day looking at his goods? “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”
Teodoro darted back to camp. “Of course.”
She longed to be home; she’d even be happy to vacuum. How could her captor act bonkers and then sound normal?
Remy dumped his coffee into the fire. “I’ve already done my share. I cut the trees. Why can’t Castilla shore up the tomb? The wood’s hard to handle and heavy.”
“You must earn your treasure.”
“What’s she going to do?”
“Rest until I am sure the tomb has been secured.”
“And dead meat?”
“He must not enter.”
“Why?”
“It would be an insult to my people.”
Remy snorted. “You make these rules up as you go along.”
Teodoro adjusted the headband as he dressed. “José, guard our prisoners. Remy and I will carry the supports.”
With his arms full Procteur couldn’t swat the flies that dove into his matted hair. Rivers of sweat flowed into his eyes.
The heat pressed down. She must have dozed but snapped awake when Teodoro poked her. “The poles are placed. Get up.”
She untied the scarf binding her grungy hair and fastened it bank-robber fashion over her face. She didn’t want ancient organics in her lungs. She swallowed a laugh. Somehow inhaling her sweat seemed entirely acceptable.
At the trapezoidal entrance, her mouth lost any trace of saliva. She hugged herself as she stepped into the musty space. “If Remy can handle the unknown, so can I.”
Teodoro nodded then hooked her arm. Even through the long sleeved shirt, she felt his nails. “Look, Mercedes, river rocks line the floor.”
All of a sudden he’s talking to me like I’m an associate...
He picked up a flat stone and rubbed it against his whiskered cheek. Like a contented woman, he sighed. In spite of his wackiness, curiosity overcame her. Her body twitched with an adrenaline rush. “What do you feel?”
“The embrace of the ages.”
Centuries old ceramics evoked the same awe in her. Mercedes surrendered to the tug of her captor’s arm, but hyperventilated from strain and excitement. She wanted to see the artifacts. Strange as he was, Teodoro had understood that.
Despite the lanterns they placed on stone outcroppings, gloom weighed on her like a fifty-pound barbell. What lurked in a dark corner? Vipers? A hairy creepy crawlie? She stumbled. Remy clutched the back of her shirt, insect enough.
“Hands off. I’d rather land in a nest of cobras then get help from you.”
“Wrong continent.”
Teodoro wheeled around in the claustrophobic foyer. “Silence!”
Mercedes shrank back. The sorcerer’s voice pierced her chest. Was he gaining power? Thick webs now stuck to his headband adding an extra coating of eeriness. She checked her clothes. If she saw a creature, she’d bolt.
“Be careful,” Teodoro advised, “the walls still want to collapse.”
Obviously, he was the only one allowed to speak. Sweat rolled down her neck onto her collar. What if Teodoro and Remy sealed her in the tomb? Not going to happen. A good mantra even if mantras also originated on another continent. Teodoro stopped. She braced.
“Look,” he whispered. “The foyer ends.”
Mercedes, with Remy breathing down her neck, waited. “Am I allowed to comment?”
“Yes.”
“The tomb slants down and then spreads out on either side.” Although the light did not penetrate too deeply, suddenly she understood. “I think it’s zoomorphic.”
Teodoro rocked on his heels. “Yes! It has shape! Wings!”
“The foyer could be the head. We’re walking through a bat-shaped tomb or something close to it. Probably looked better a few hundred years ago.”
“A most holy place to me,” announced Teodoro.
Procteur’s voice echoed his frustration. “What are you talking about?”
The sorcerer gazed at the ceiling. Mercedes did the same. “Look at the drawings.”
“They’re peeling,” Remy said.
She zeroed in on the most complete sketch. “What do you see?”
Remy wasn’t too excited. “Rows and rows of bats. Large bats. Small bats. Big deal. Let’s get to the treasure.”
“And the streaks on the walls?” Teodoro asked.
Mercedes sighed in relief. “Pretend blood. Thank goodness.”
“Exactly,” the sorcerer said approval in his voice. “Mercedes, I am glad you came with us.”
“Uh huh.” She extended her hand against the wall for support. On the weird-o-meter, this field trip hit a solid twenty out of ten. Pebbles slipped from under her fingers and poured onto the floor. Whatever wood lined the walls had been eaten long ago.
“Okay,” Remy said, “we’re here. Which way?”
“Left.”
“What about the niches along the entrance. They could have good stuff.”
“No, we do as I say.” Crouching against the low ceiling dripping with more webs, the sorcerer escorted her and Remy into the dark space. With the placement of a few lanterns objects glittered.
“Beautiful.” Desire rang in Teodoro’s voice. She peeked around him. Three mummies sat bundled on cedar litters. Each wore a hammered gold mantle. Pectoral shields had been added. They were filled with gems that glimmered like cats’ eyes.
Her pulse raced. “Emeralds and fire opals. Jade.”
Procteur reached for the closest. Teodoro whacked his wrist with the river rock. “They must be handled with care.”
“Let me draw them in place,” Mercedes suggested. “It would be to your benefit. Collectors will want to know about their location, see them in situ.” And she thought, the sketches’d be evidence and invaluable to archaeologists should they get out of the jungle alive.
“Sorry,” Remy said. “We’re out of art supplies. I have a better idea.” He produced a digital camera. “Take pictures.”
Good, she thought. How reassuring. Greedy and stupid. The police would have a field day.
“Your thoughts are so obvious. Forget the police. I’ll reclaim the camera when we break camp.”
She turned to the ancient souls whose breasts now existed only as lines and dots sculpted into metal and began to shoot. When Teodoro bent to examine the closest, her interest peaked. “How is she wrapped?” Mercedes asked.
“Yards of woven cloth.”
Procteur rested his lantern on the uneven floor and rubbed his hands together. “We’ll find artifacts in the folds. Be worth a fortune.”
Mercedes calculated some of the necessities the women would have taken into eternity: combs, food and drinking vessels, favorite household objects; all probably scattered around the floor and too precious to land in Remy’s lap.
Procteur shoved in front of her. Another piece of the wall dislodged. “Let’s get the bundles before this hole kills us.”
Teodoro shook his head. “First, I pay homage.”
Remy swore. “Hurry.”
The sorcerer knelt and communed with his ancestors. Mercedes snapped pictures. When Teodoro stood she backed away to give them room to carry the mummies and found herself at the entrance to the right chamber.
“No!” shrieked Teodoro. Photograph only the left wing.”
/> “Okay. Not a problem.”
Remy tucked his flashlight in a pocket. He spoke to Teodoro. “I’ll carry the mummy, you guide me.”
The sorcerer nodded.
As soon as her captors crossed the entrance threshold, Mercedes scanned the floor of the right wing for a weapon. Pebbles from a cave-in crunched under foot. Fearing she might step on something precious or fanged, she crouched low but kept her hands inches from the river rocks and coating of pebbles. A handle glinted. Anxious for a weapon, she skimmed her fingers over the artifact. “A sword.” The whisper had come naturally. She tried to lift it, and discovered a second. She raised one waist high. Her arm trembled from the strain.
Voices. She settled the weapon back onto the rocks and dashed into the left chamber where she waited silently like a good photographer as the thieves stole the second ancestor. José entered waving a light stick about his head. His eyes glistened, alive with treasure fever.
“Get out of the way,” ordered Remy. The man ducked out of sight. She maintained silence as they removed the last mummy.
Alone again, she sprang for the right wing. Just as she spied a row of stone jars Remy loomed out of the foyer.
“What’re you hiding?” he demanded. He shoved a lantern in her face.
“Nothing. I’ve only got two hands. I’m holding the camera and a spare flashlight.”
Teodoro stormed in. “Get out, Mercedes. I sensed you had trespassed. I search this section.” He addressed Remy. “Keep her by the entrance. Touch nothing else.”
Remy scowled. “We haven’t finished with the left chamber. I thought we were in this together. You’re looking for something specific. What?”
“Do as I say. Without me, you would have no treasure and no way to pay your debts.”
Procteur shrugged.
She’d welcome fresh air, but Remy needed to gloat. He shoved her in front and noisily sniffed her neck. “You stink.”
She spun around. “We all stink.”
Remy snickered. “Not me. Not Teodoro. We’ve taken potions.”
“Ever think that stuff could be a carcinogen?”
He moved to strike, but stopped. He dropped the lantern and forced her against the wall. She freed her hands and gripped his wrists, but he pinned her against a freshly cut pole. “Be a good girl or I’ll stuff that handkerchief down your throat.” He leaned in. His foot connected with metal. He kicked again and let her go. “What have we here?”
Born Into Love Page 18