Human Sacrifice

by Cindy L Hull

  “Yes, Agent Gonzalez.” Madge listened with only a minimal number of interruptions, then disconnected.

  “What?” asked Claire.

  “He told us to stop in Chochula. There’s a helicopter in the area and a road-block down the road.” She aimed the phone at Claire. “He said to turn around when we can. We’re done…got that?” Madge said, shaking the phone at her friend. “We are done.”

  Claire nodded, her shoulders relaxing. She took a deep breath. Just before the town, Eduardo turned onto a bypass road, so Claire took the smaller road leading into town. She didn’t want to pass through Chochula in fear of catching up with Eduardo where the bypass rejoined the road, so she slowed, looking for a place to turn around.

  “I seriously need a bathroom,” Madge said, “and perhaps a beer.”

  They stopped at a small house-front refresquería. Inside, they asked a young, very pregnant, woman if they could use her bathroom, hoping that the house attached to the store had such a luxury. They were in luck, and afterwards they bought soft drinks and pastries before returning to their car. Turning back north, they passed a small two-track path that led to a set of thatch traditional homes. They paused at the speed bump, and Eduardo’s car pulled out in front of them. Claire gunned the engine to go around him, but the Volkswagen bumped into Eduardo’s vehicle. Her front fender crumpled against the sturdier model.

  “Damn,” Madge said.

  Claire tried to imagine the wording of her insurance policy and the disclaimers on her rental agreement. “Shit.”

  Eduardo glowered at them through the windshield and said something they could not hear, but they understood. He got out of the car and came to Claire’s window. She locked her door and told Madge to do the same. Claire rolled her window up, leaving a small opening so she could hear him.

  “Come, let’s take a ride.” Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw Madge pull the phone under the map. Claire attempted to draw his attention away from her friend.

  “Eduardo, just go. You’re free.”

  “I’m sure there’s a small army behind you,” he growled, “and in front of me, too. They don’t care about the niceties of a trial here. They’ll kill me, but they hate to kill tourists.” His mouth turned up into a sneer. “Get out.” He pulled a small handgun out of his pocket and put it against the window. “Get out of the car now!”

  A small group of villagers formed around them, women carrying fiber shopping bags, their children huddled behind them, and men carrying machetes on their way to or from their fields. They all moved toward the tall Mexican man who was obviously not Mayan.

  The women began screaming at Eduardo, admonishing his lack of shame, “¿No tiene vergüenza?” The men hoisted their machetes, demanding that he put the gun away. Claire watched the scene play out in front of her, in awe of her unlikely rescuers. She thought if foreigners and non-indigenous Mexicans learned anything, it should be: don’t mess with the Maya.

  Eduardo raised his gun and aimed it at the growing crowd. The women grabbed their children and moved them behind their own bodies. The men moved forward, their machetes aimed at Eduardo.

  “Move back!” Eduardo shouted, and the gun shook in his hand.

  An elderly man limped toward Eduardo, leaning on a cane made from a tree limb. He looked up at the tall man and stared at him with piercing eyes. “You don’t belong here. Vaya.”

  Eduardo stared back, but he couldn’t hold the ancient man’s gaze. He glanced from person to person, at the older children carrying their younger siblings, and at the growing crowd flowing out of houses and stores from all directions. He stepped back, aimed the gun at Claire, then lowered his aim, shooting into one of the Volkswagen tires, causing gasps among the onlookers. He stuffed the gun back in his pocket and ran to his car, squealing the tires as he pulled away from the crowd, nearly hitting an emaciated dog that had chosen that moment to take a nap in the middle of the road.

  As his car stormed through the village, careening over speed bumps, Claire sat back against the car seat, putting her hands up to her face. Recovering her nerve, she left the car to examine the flat tire and crumpled fender. Her audience crowded around to make sure Claire and Madge were unharmed. The Mayan women immediately began to admonish them for traveling alone. “Where are your husbands?”

  Inside the car, Madge pulled the phone out from under the map. Through the open door, Claire could hear a stream of expletives erupting through cyber-space. After a few moments, Madge said, “We’re okay.”

  “Who was that?” Claire asked, holding back the children who tried to climb into the car.

  “George,” Madge said. “I don’t know if he is mad as hell or worried sick.”

  Claire watched as a black official-looking SUV approached, bouncing over the speed bumps. It slowed as it turned into the small road, easing its way through the growing crowd of townspeople. Claire squinted at the driver and her mouth opened in disbelief. Laura Lorenzo exited the SUV, strode over to her and gave her a hug. “Are you two okay?”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Saturday

  An exhausted group of Mayanists and one detective sat at a large table at the Caracol Bar, where Claire and Salinas had met for drinks four days earlier. The co-owner, Todd, had set up a long table in an alcove away from the television screens. He placed buckets of beer and platters of appetizers along the center. Madge and Claire were the focus of attention as the group bombarded them with questions about their car-chase adventure. Claire, aware that Salinas held very mixed emotions about her behavior, sat quietly and let her colleague tell the story.

  With a chicken wing in one hand and a beer in another, Madge related the tale of the chase, Claire’s driving ability, and how Eduardo had accosted them with a gun. “You wouldn’t believe it!” Madge exclaimed. “It was like the movies, and Claire acted so cool. She didn’t even blink when she saw the gun.”

  “Not true, Madge. I just react slowly,” Claire smiled. “Besides, he was surrounded by the entire village of Chochula, brandishing shopping bags and machetes. What could he do?”

  “And then…” Madge said, “…after Eduardo shoots our tire and takes off, the HSI team arrives and guess who it is!” Everyone knew the answer because they had already heard this part of the story. Madge tipped her bottle of beer to Laura Lorenzo, who just at that moment entered the bar and walked toward their table, followed by Cody, pulling a rolling suitcase and his backpack.

  Madge opened her mouth to make a loud announcement, but Claire nudged her friend and gave her a warning glance. Madge whispered and said, “Agent Lorenzo.”

  Laura and Cody sat, and Jamal handed them beers.

  Laura said, “You should have seen the looks on your faces.” She laughed and, finally, Salinas smiled too. “But thanks to Claire and Madge, we captured Eduardo, and he has exchanged his Armani for Mexican prison garb. He’ll have to learn to live in his own country with a much less extravagant lifestyle.”

  “And I can finally take Paul home,” Cody said, smiling sadly, “though not in the way I thought.”

  “We are so sorry this happened, Cody,” Claire said.

  Cody shrugged. “I am too, but he brought his fate on himself. He chose the wrong people to blackmail.”

  Madge reached over and patted his hand but addressed Laura. “Where did you hide our friend?” she asked.

  “The undercover professors grabbed him from the Casa Montejo and moved him to their hotel. They knew he was in danger.”

  “From whom?” Jamal asked.

  “At that time, we weren’t sure if it was Brad or Eduardo,” Laura admitted. “In Cody’s statement, he wrote that he saw Brad and me at the pyramid, and Tanya close by. Neither Brad nor Tanya mentioned this in their statements. Then Cody did a silly thing…”

  Cody clutched his beer. “I went upstairs at the Casa Montejo to talk to Brad. I asked him if he
would vouch for me by telling Detective Salinas that he had seen me leave Paul at the pyramid, but Brad got agitated and accused me of blackmailing him.”

  “I was watching,” Laura added. “I called Carlos Gonzalez, and he and Pablo went outside to watch for Cody. In the meantime, Jamal found me and sent me in to see Tanya. Things were happening too quickly.”

  Cody took the narrative back, “Brad scared me, and I decided I better leave the party. I was relieved, though a little frightened, when the professors intercepted me and one of them took me to their hotel. They moved my things and Paul’s belongings that night.”

  George pursed his lips, thinking. “After Jamal’s presentation Brad met us in the lounge. He said he had gone to Cody’s room, and that someone else had moved in. I wondered at the time why Brad would do this. Now it looks like you all might have saved his life.”

  Cody took in a breath. “Oh, God!”

  Jamal asked Laura, “How did this work? Did you apply for the job to get close to Eduardo? Did you know you would get an invitation for an interview? Are you even an anthropologist?”

  Laura took a long gulp of beer before answering, “Yes, yes, and yes. I’m an anthropologist who has studied in the Mayan region, as my vita shows. It is a legitimate vita, except that my relationship with the university is a cover. I have a Ph.D. under my real name, but became a doctoral candidate for the purposes of this job, to investigate Eduardo’s role in smuggling and purchasing undocumented artifacts. The Mexican Federal Police and HSI worked together.”

  Laura took another sip of her beer. “George, as a silent partner with Carlos and Pedro, wooed you all into thinking that I would be a good candidate to interview since I would be here at the meeting. If you had not invited me to interview, I would have come anyway, but it would have been more difficult to get near Eduardo. In a morbid way, if Paul hadn’t fallen, Eduardo might well have gotten away.”

  “Were you also investigating Brad?” Claire asked.

  “We knew of his past association with Eduardo but didn’t know if he was involved in Eduardo’s current activities. We suspected Brad might have smuggled artifacts out of Mexico for Eduardo, but we didn’t have any proof. Brad denies smuggling but has confessed to selling artifacts to Eduardo through Benito Suarez.”

  Roberto picked up the narration. “Their friendship story is generally true, but they have created a myth of that relationship. Instead of one in which Brad is the idealistic graduate student who takes a foreign student under his wing, it was really a relationship in which Eduardo groomed a naïve American for future collaboration. When Brad approached him about the museum donation, Eduardo saw his opening.”

  “Is Brad still involved?” Madge looked at George, her eyes wide with fear. “Is Keane College liable for his actions?”

  “You haven’t received any artifacts yet, so, no,” Roberto assured them. “But you were close. The jade statue is real. If Brad had managed to get it through customs and you had displayed it, it would have been a different story. Don’t worry, we have it now.”

  “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted the proposal,” Madge said.

  “You didn’t,” George reminded her. “You started researching Eduardo’s collections. Brad complained to me about it.”

  “I’m sure he regrets this decision now,” Roberto said. “We suspect Eduardo planned to use the museum as a kind of front for artifact laundering. That may be why Brad hoped to hire someone more pliable into the position of curator.”

  “So how did Paul come into the picture?” Madge asked. “He came here to apply for the job, but it seems that he had other motives.”

  Salinas nodded. “Paul interviewed vendors as part of his research on tourism. He knew many of the store owners and what they sold. He also researched Eduardo’s business, Galerías Indígenas, and he recognized the replicas that Benito sold were similar to those on the business website. Finally, he learned that Benito’s cousin made souvenir replicas, and that Brad had connections with Benito. Paul seemed to be very efficient at researching people for his own purposes.”

  “I still don’t know if Brad killed Paul, or if it was an accident,” Jamal said.

  “We may never know. He insists it was an accident,” Salinas said. “But Brad clearly fled the scene, and, remember, he also stole the computer.”

  Jamal pulled his braids back from his face and turned to Salinas. “Did you suspect me of killing Paul?”

  “I did, but your friends—” his hand swept the table, “—convinced me that you weren’t a likely suspect. Despite your suspicious behavior, there would be no reason for you to enter his room if you already had the computer, so I agreed with them.”

  “When did you start to suspect Brad of being involved with Paul’s death?” Madge asked.

  “I didn’t suspect anything at first,” Salinas admitted. “The Uxmal Police, as well as my captain, wanted the death to be an accident. I was forced to reconsider that assessment when two things happened: Paul’s notebook, and meeting Laura.”

  All heads turned to Laura as she reached for a second bottle from the bucket. “When I was introduced to Paul at the Uxmal reception, we recognized each other,” she explained. “We had both attended the same anthropology program, but I was a few years ahead of him. I knew him mainly by his reputation of soliciting confidences and using them to his advantage. I left Chicago to finish my doctoral program and forgot about him. When I saw him at Uxmal, I began to worry, knowing he was interviewing for a teaching position with Keane College.”

  Laura looked at Salinas, who nodded, and she continued, “When I saw him talking to each of you individually, I observed—as both an anthropologist and federal agent—the body language these conversations elicited.”

  Claire said, “He wrote something in his notebook about you. I think he called the university for information. Tanya complained that someone had called to check your credentials.”

  “He probably suspected that I already had a Ph.D.”

  “Laura, what were you really looking for when you climbed the pyramid?” Claire asked.

  “I noticed the drag marks on the ground, as you did, and I climbed up a few steps for a different perspective. I took a few photos with my phone, and those confirmed the shots you had taken from the ground.” She paused. “I was very impressed that you had the foresight to document the scene.”

  “Your photographs helped us put the pieces together in Paul’s death,” Salinas added. “The drag marks, blood, and footprints all helped us piece together what happened.”

  “What did you find out from the footprints?” Claire asked.

  “We collected shoes from some of you,” the detective said. “Jamal’s prints were found only at the periphery, but so were Eduardo’s, confirming Brad’s statement that Eduardo helped him cover for the crime. Cody’s were there, but only found on top of other prints, indicating he walked there later. Sadly, the footprints of the medics obscured many prints, but Brad’s prints dominated the scene. By working around the body, he thought he could confuse the prints, but it was clear he had been at the scene earlier.”

  Claire recalled how Brad had turned Paul’s body over, straightening it out, as if looking for something. She asked, “Did you ever find Paul’s phone?”

  Salinas nodded. “It was in the backpack. Brad destroyed it and threw it away with the computer. The kids found it, but it was beyond repair.”

  “Tell us about Don Benito,” Madge said. “How did Eduardo know about Paul’s visit to Motul and his interest in the statue?”

  Salinas folded his hands on the table. “Phone records show that Benito called Eduardo after Paul had visited. Deciding that Benito could be a threat, Eduardo went to Motul and killed him. Brad arrived later. He had already dumped the backpack and wanted to make sure that Benito would not betray him. When Benito didn’t answer the door, he left, not knowing that Eduardo had gotten t
here first. Then Jamal wandered through, for the same reason.” Salinas smiled again. “It was a busy morning in Motul.”

  “But I had nothing to do with the smuggling or selling of artifacts,” Jamal protested.

  “But your initials were in Benito’s contacts —JK,” Salinas said.

  “But that wasn’t me.”

  Salinas smiled at Claire. “It was Brad…Bradley James Kingsford…aka Jaime because villagers could not pronounce his name.”

  Cody, who had been sitting quietly, teared up. “That means Paul caused not only his own death, but that of Benito Suarez also.”

  “Your friend was devious,” Laura said.

  George frowned. “Just like Tanya.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  There was a pause as everyone took food and drink and shifted their thoughts to Tanya.

  “Who will be charged for Tanya’s death,” Madge asked, “Brad or Eduardo, or both?”

  “Probably both,” Salinas said. “Eduardo for murder and Brad for attempted murder. Toxicology determined that the dagger hastened Tanya’s death, but she already had enough oxycodone and alcohol in her system to kill her. No one knew Tanya had a drug problem except Jamal. She hid it well. Brad suspected she had taken a pain pill, and he sealed her fate when he added a fatal dose of the crushed oxycodone to her margarita.”

  “I can’t believe I considered him my friend,” Jamal said.

  Madge, seeing the pain in Jamal’s face, said, “But Tanya contributed to her own death by drinking and taking prescription drugs. It was only a matter of time before she would have a fatal overdose.”

  “But I gave her the margarita,” Jamal said, his eyes tearing.

  “Brad made sure you took it to her,” George said.

  “And worse,” Laura said to Jamal, “you put the empty glass on the waiter’s tray, but I don’t think you remember doing it.”