by Clay Farrow
Hilton thought the transformation in Guerra was nothing short of astounding, if not frightening. Sitting on a wooden bench in the outboard, his head downcast, his shoulders stooped and rounded, he had become an enfeebled old man in a matter of hours. The arrogant swagger and foul-mouthed bluster had evaporated, replaced by whining self-pity and a crippled shuffle.
Entering the resort's restaurant carrying a cardboard box under his arm, he walked over to the table where Monica, Amanda, and Liz were seated.
"He's out of our lives for good?" Monica asked.
"I don't know about for good, but certainly for a number of years unless he has diplomatic immunity. With you, Amanda, and Peter as witnesses, he'll likely be convicted of murdering the seven tourists at Altun Ha and the attempted murder of Peter."
"Does Belize have capital punishment?" Liz asked.
"Yes, but the last execution was in 1985, so it's unlikely he'll face the gallows," Hilton replied, placing the package on the table in front of Liz. "This is for you. Tangible thanks for saving our lives."
Monica moved to Hilton's side. She slipped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder.
Although things had been frantic throughout the morning, Hilton and Monica had managed to put their heads together for a few minutes to discuss Liz. They had agreed not to turn her over to the police with Guerra. She wasn't completely innocent, but she had saved their lives on more than one occasion. The decision was a rationalization to be sure, but under the circumstances, a reasonable one. They were comfortable with their decision and could live with it.
Liz looked up at them.
"Open it up," Monica urged, beaming.
Liz ripped away the tape, tore open the package, and peeked at the contents. "Holy shit!" she cried, staring openmouthed at the stacks of $100 bills.
"Liz's definitely benefited from her time with us," Amanda chuckled. "She's doubled the size of her vocabulary."
"And now uses adjectives," Monica added, laughing.
"Bullshit," Liz exclaimed delightedly, jumping out of her chair. She threw her arms around Hilton's neck and kissed him hard on the lips. His anguished cry caused her to jump back.
Her hands flew to her mouth. "I'm sorry. I was so excited, I forgot about your arm. Thank you very much for the money."
Hilton staggered back, he felt his cheeks must be turning a bright crimson. Struggling to control the pain and his embarrassment he stammered, "This morning you said we had to wait a week."
"Sorry Hilton, I don't have a week. Can someone at the front desk book me a water taxi and arrange transportation to the airport tomorrow?"
"I'll arrange it," Monica said, "but won't you extend your stay? We'd love to have you and there's plenty of room. After this morning, most of our friends have decided life here is a bit too wild west for them and are flying home today."
"Please stay," Amanda chimed-in.
"I'd love to, but when I phoned Seattle, I learned Laura had passed away. Her funeral is this Wednesday. And with her father gone, I feel I should attend. It's a pity she didn't live long enough to benefit from your Maya Medicine."
Monica bolted to her feet. "In all the excitement, I forgot about the guinea pigs."
The four crashed through the laundry room door. Monica was half way across the room when she stopped, her gaze fixed on the cages.
Sitting on a shelf on the far side of the room were the two wire cages containing the guinea pigs. Both animals lay at the bottom of the cages. Monica slowly walked over to them and inspected each animal.
"They're dead. I was afraid this might happen."
"Why?" Hilton asked.
"A couple of things. First, Rick's behavior when we arrived at the Rodriguez ranch. I noticed he was very uncomfortable and started fidgeting as soon as Ken began talking about the sample as if there was only one."
"Were there more?"
"I'm sure of it. Because of something Liz said."
"Me?"
Monica nodded. "You said the color and smell of the sample Rick had at Tikal was different from the one you tried with Brad Ferry in Seattle. Second, yesterday you mentioned JJ told you he had submitted two containers to the University of Washington. But I just gave him one. The only explanation is that JJ translated the hieroglyphs on his own and sent both of our samples to the U of W."
"And do you think Brad Ferry stole the samples from the university and gave them to Ken Byers?" Hilton asked.
"There's no other explanation because he was a PhD student at the U of W, and worked part-time for Byers."
"So was JJ's death accidental?" Liz asked.
"I don't think so. At first I wondered if a poison had been added to the sample Rick took to Tikal."
"Why?" Hilton asked.
"Then there'd still be a chance that a cure for HIV had been found."
"Hold it," Liz demanded. "Slow down. I'm confused, start from the beginning."
"We now know Rick was Gantry's spy at Byers. And that Gantry would have gone to any length to destroy the vaccine. JJ died after being fed the sample Rick brought to Tikal, and Liz felt sick after just a tiny taste. But she was fine after the sample she and Brad drank in Seattle a couple of weeks ago."
"Even if there were two samples, Rick could have poisoned both at the Byers lab, after Brad and I had tried it," Liz insisted.
Monica shook her head and held up a cage. "With the dead guinea pigs, we have conclusive proof that Rick didn't poison any of the samples. And Brad was aware that some of the animals were dying, but not others."
"How did Rick find out there were two samples?" Hilton inquired.
"From Brad," Monica replied. "By Liz's account, Ken isolated Brad from everyone at Byers. When the test animals began to die, Brad knew his future was in jeopardy and hid that fact from Ken. Any reasonable scientist would have quickly deduced that sample A caused the test animals to die, while sample B didn't. Brad couldn't hide the dead animals from Rick because he was the veterinary technician. And it's not unreasonable to assume that Brad told him there were two samples and enlisted his help."
"Did Rick know he was saving my life when he smashed the vial Dr. Byers was going to make me drink?" Amanda asked.
"He didn't know for sure that it was the toxic one, but he couldn't take that chance considering what he did to JJ. Rick knowingly fed him an amount that he knew would be lethal."
"Why would he do that?" Amanda asked.
"He was acting on Gantry's orders and before meeting you, Rick was completely under his spell."
"But why would he order Rick to kill JJ?" Amanda asked again.
"Because he wanted to ensure that the formula would never be reproduced. At that point they didn't know there was a second translation. And JJ accidently let it slip that there was a 'we', and Liz picked up on it. As soon as Gantry found out from Rick, he set out to kill me as well."
They were silent, assimilating the facts Monica had laid out.
Liz threw her arms around Monica and hugged her. "You have no idea how sorry I am for the part I played in this. Please forgive me, I never meant for anyone to be hurt."
Monica embraced her. "I know all you wanted was to save millions of lives. The slate was wiped clean with your actions at the ranch and here last night."
Liz kissed Monica on the cheek and stepped back. "I don't suppose there's any possibility of gluing the pieces of the mug back together?"
"No, you saw it was pretty much dust, certainly the top and bottom where the ingredients were listed. Because of the difference in color and taste, I suspect at least one item I deciphered was wrong, while JJ got them right."
"You're not going to give up are you?" Hilton asked.
Monica shook her head. "Of course not. I drew what is hopefully an accurate copy of the hieroglyphics painted on the artifact and will keep trying different translations of the ingredients and their preparation. I'll also make all my drawings and notes available to any colleague who's interested." She paused, then continued in a d
ejected tone, "Although Mayan hieroglyphs are my specialty and not JJ's, he came up with a formula that cures, while mine kills."
"No, don't say that," Hilton said, kissing her gently on the forehead. "Before you and JJ made your discovery, HIV was thought to be incurable. Now, scientists at least know the disease has a potential cure. Keep trying. You've given the world hope. With a little luck and a lot of hard work, perhaps HIV will soon be relegated to a footnote in history books."
Monica sighed. "Ironic isn't it? An ancient society was able to create a medicine that is beyond the capability and technology of modern man. The Maya finally have their revenge for centuries of enslavement and exploitation."
Epilogue
Caribbean Breezes Resort – Two months later
Dressed in a dark blue suit, starched white shirt, silk tie, and buffed black loafers, the man standing on the deck of the Greener Grass looked like a fish out of water.
"Mr. Hastings," he called out, "a woman at the front desk said I could find you here."
"Is that you, Jim?" Hilton inquired from inside the cabin.
"Yes, sir."
"Come on down."
Jim stepped through the open hatch and descended the companionway to the galley. Hilton and Monica were seated at a rectangular table with Amanda between them.
In the two months since Guerra's raid, the sling had disappeared. And although Hilton hadn't regained the full use of his arm, his doctor's prognosis was for a full recovery.
Hilton rose and the two men shook hands. "Jim Hollinger, this is my wife, Monica, and the reason for your visit, Amanda Alderman."
"Nice to finally meet you, sir, Mrs. Hastings, Amanda." Setting his briefcase on the table, Jim removed a binder with a sheaf of legal-sized papers, then glanced at his watch.
"We're glad you finally got here. Sorry we had to postpone our meeting."
Since the attack, the Caribbean Breezes had been completely refurbished through the determined efforts of everybody at the resort. Last Saturday the first paying guests had checked in.
Hilton was also pleased that Guerra wasn't able to wriggle out the charges against him by claiming diplomatic immunity. The State Department had disowned him, and he had pleaded guilty for a reduced sentence. As well, Guerra and his cousin's Cayman Island bank accounts had been tracked down, yielding $83 million in one and $11 million in the other. The IRS was now looking into charging Guerra with income tax evasion.
Jim handed Hilton the bound documents. "Is everything back to normal?"
"Yes," Hilton said, "but it's been hectic."
"Please sign the last page at the bottom where I indicated on both copies."
Hilton scribbled his signature then passed the documents to Monica. After she signed, Jim returned one binder to his briefcase and left the other sitting on the table.
He offered a warm smile to the threesome. "Mr. and Mrs. Hastings, you are now officially the parents of Amanda Alderman. Congratulations," he said, shaking hands all around. "I'm sorry to rush, but I've kept the water taxi waiting. I've a plane to catch back to the U.S., in less than two hours."
"Thank you again for flying down personally. You don't know how much we appreciate it," Monica said.
"A first-class return ticket will be part of my bill," he joked. "Now if you will excuse me, I'm a little pressed for time."
"Certainly," Hilton said, "thank you again."
As soon as the lawyer disappeared up the companionway, Hilton and Monica grabbed Amanda in a group hug.
Hilton walked over to the compact refrigerator. He took out a bottle of champagne and three chilled glasses. "It's five o'clock somewhere in the world and a special occasion for all of us."
The Greener Grass heeled over as she came about under the steady hands of Amanda. Hilton and Monica were curled up together on the foredeck, sunning themselves.
Monica's aquaphobia, while not a thing of the past, was no longer a major issue. She decided too much had happened since the kidnapping at Altun Ha to worry over a trivial matter like an ocean.
Hilton pursed his lips and said, "The two of us honeymooning in Goa for three weeks doesn't seem quite right, seeing as we just became a family … "
"Then, we should honeymoon as a family."
He sat up with a broad smile. "You want Amanda to come with us?"
Monica nodded. "Of course. But we'd better head for shore if we're going to reserve an extra seat on the flight tomorrow."
Jumping to his feet, he extended his hand to help Monica. Hand-in-hand, they walked toward the stern.
"How would you like to go to India?" Hilton asked.
"I am, silly, in three weeks."
"No," Monica said, "How would you like to go tomorrow?"
Amanda's face lit up. As she threw her arms around Hilton and Monica, she exclaimed, "I was hoping you'd ask me, Mom and Dad."