The Crypt Trilogy Bundle

by Bill Thompson

  Today all the floatplanes except one had been sent home. The remaining one spent all day scouring the river in both directions from the dock. Several officers searched the eighty-six ruined structures at Yaxchilan. It was a big job and over a hundred acres to cover. There was no sign that anyone except tourists and park officials had been there.

  Although the FBI’s special agent-in-charge at the scene still thought some of the boat drivers knew more than they were telling, the interviews had gotten them nowhere. The boatmen had nothing constructive to offer about that night. As for the Ochoa cousins Ruben and Pablo, their night-fishing alibi couldn’t be confirmed and they’d been more nervous than the rest, but that alone was no reason to detain them. Still, something didn’t add up. A dozen tourists disappeared. They had to have been taken away by boat. It was the only logical answer.

  The SAC ordered his men to interview the twelve boat drivers again. They were interrogated in pairs this time in hopes the discussions might spark a memory, an idea, a thought – something that could help. Each pair of drivers met with agents for about an hour; Ruben and Pablo were last.

  The cousins felt even more confident this time. They stuck to their alibi, said they knew nothing about anything just like all the other drivers, and were sorry they couldn’t help. For the officers this round of questioning yielded nothing new.

  Pablo and Ruben walked out of the cabana and headed to the dock. The agents walked right behind them across the parking lot, heading to the lodge. Suddenly a man ran up to Pablo. It was his friend, the man who owned the store next door to Pablo’s house.

  What is he doing here?

  “Ah, Pablo, I’m glad I found you! This is important –”

  Pablo gasped, suddenly understanding why he was here. “I’ll talk with you later.” Pablo brushed him off without stopping.

  “No, wait! The man you took to Piedras Negras the other night called me. He wants –”

  Pablo spoke more loudly than he intended. “Later!” Shit! Shut up, hombre! Not now!

  The FBI agent heard everything. He asked Pablo, “What does he want?”

  “Nothing.” He tried to keep his hands from shaking. Ruben was unconcerned since he had no idea what Pablo’s friend was talking about.

  The agent observed Pablo trembling. He turned to the shopkeeper. “Who called for Pablo?”

  “Paul. He said his name was Paul, the same as Pablo. Tell him that, the man said, so he will remember me. You know who he is, right, Pablo? He said to tell you he has thirteen people in all and to bring two boats. Come to the beach at Piedras Negras where you dropped him off.”

  Pablo was dumbfounded. He wanted to run and hide, but the agent was moving closer to him. “I don’t know…”

  Still trying to help, the man added, “Paul. Paul Silver, that’s what he said. Now do you remember your passenger from the other night?”

  For Pablo, everything suddenly became a blur, a dreamy haze. Someone grabbed one arm, someone else the other. He vaguely comprehended the same thing happening to his cousin Ruben. It felt surreal as someone jerked his hands behind his back and snapped on handcuffs. He began to feel ill and suddenly he vomited. Then he lost consciousness.

  The FBI agents had their break. Paul Silver was on their list. He was one of the kidnapped Americans.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Julio, Ted and the other seven sat on the sand by the river, where the longboats would pick them up in a couple of hours. They had put their luggage in the underbrush, and the four rebels had been gagged and tied to a tree where they couldn’t be seen from the river.

  The snowman-like statue of Bird Monster stood like a sentinel as the former hostages laughed and talked about going home. Everyone was anxious to return to civilization and normalcy.

  They heard the distant drone of an engine. Ted sprang into action, yelling, “It’s too soon for the boats! Quick! Get back in the jungle!”

  Although most of them had the weapons they’d been given, they’d be no match against more of Rolando’s gang in a fight. They hid in the undergrowth, watching the shoreline.

  Ted wished Paul were here. He was comfortable leading people, but after all this, he’d have welcomed Paul’s odd familiarity in dealing with armed killers. Everyone else in the group had had the jitters. Not Paul. He was cold, calculating, and he knew what he was doing. Ted wondered if he’d ever learn what that was all about.

  The noise became much louder, and soon they saw a floatplane descending lazily. It landed on the river directly in front of them. Some of the group began to clap.

  “Quiet!” Ted hissed. “We didn’t call for a plane! Wait and see what’s going on.”

  A side door opened and a man dressed in black jumped onto the strut and yelled, “FBI! Is anyone here?”

  English! Good old American English!

  Ted shouted back, “We’re here! Come on, everyone! We’re free!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Paul walked into the cave and saw Hailey sitting on the floor, eating cookies. She jumped up with a big grin when she saw him. It was impossible to miss that she was wearing his T-shirt. Only his T-shirt. With wet hair and almost no clothes, she looked totally seductive.

  “Nice outfit. Been shopping while I was off at work?”

  “This old thing? No, it’s just something I threw on. I’m just having lunch! Boy, I’m glad you’re back! I know you may be hungry, but first I have something really exciting –” She was positively buoyant.

  “Wait. I have something to tell you first. It’s over. It’s all over.”

  For a second she thought the worst – the hostages were dead and Paul had escaped unseen and unharmed. She struggled for words as her joy turned instantly into terror.

  “Oh God. Please, don’t let it be. Are they dead?” She’d heard distant pops earlier that might have been gunfire, but they were so faint she’d dismissed them.

  But he’s happy. He’s so upbeat. Surely things are all right.

  Relief swept over her as Paul broke into a huge smile. “The ones who ought to be dead are dead. Rolando, Diego and several of their men. They’re dead. All of us are okay.”

  “Thank God! What about Alison?”

  “Physically, she’ll recover, Doc Spence says. She’s been through hell, as you certainly know. She suffered more than any of the rest of us. She’s an emotional wreck, especially after Rolando told her she was going to die today. But physically she’s good. Everybody else is fine. They’re packing up, getting ready to move out to the river. I called the number my boat guy gave me, and I also called the embassy. One way or another, we’re going to be picked up this afternoon!”

  She ran to Paul and hugged him tightly. She stood on tiptoes and gave him a kiss – then another. “Thank you. Thank you for being whoever you really are, Paul Silver. Thanks for bringing your own gun, knowing how to get away and then rescuing us. Whatever you’ve done in the past, I’m just glad you were here when we needed you!”

  Paul suddenly felt things he’d kept suppressed for decades. Overpowering gushes of intensity flowed through him as he held her and kissed her deeply.

  Holding her close, he said, “I … uh, I don’t know what you mean about being whoever I really am. Or what I’ve done in the past. This isn’t a video game – I’m just me.” The words came out groggily; he could hardly concentrate with this exciting woman in his arms.

  Suddenly she brightened even more and hugged him tightly. “Hell! How could I forget what I have to show you? Are you ready for something incredible? Oh, gosh … what’s wrong with me? I’m only thinking about me … and you.” She pulled away from his embrace. “What about everyone else? What do we need to be doing to help the others?”

  Paul responded in a husky voice, his passion rising fast. “Right now? At this exact second? They’re fine. Here’s what I think we need to be doing.”

  He pulled her back, kissed her deeply and enfolded her in his arms. She put hers around his neck and pushed her body as close as sh
e could. She could feel him getting hard – what was about to happen made her excited too. His hands ran up and down her back, then moved to the front. Still locked in a kiss, she moaned as he pulled the flimsy T-shirt over her head, then lightly ran his fingertips over her nipples. Her body felt incredible, he thought dreamily. As his hands played up and down her body, she pulled his shirt off then moved to his shorts. The zipper and button were only a momentary impediment.

  Fleeting thoughts about how dirty she’d felt with Rolando were replaced with ecstatic ideas of what was about to happen with Paul. She knelt on the floor in front of him, taking him in her mouth and slowly moving up and down. It was his turn to moan now. Soon they were on the floor, lying on the sheets, locked in a feverish embrace. The imprisonment, the fear and despair had turned into glorious freedom. They came together, simultaneously, in a rush of emotion and intense rapture.

  She lay next to him, tears streaming down her face.

  “Was it that bad?” He laughed.

  “God, I’m so happy. I really thought we were all going to die. This is the first time I’ve felt safe in what – a week? Ten days? I can’t even remember. I just am so happy we’re free, thanks to you.”

  “Other people did their parts.”

  “But if it hadn’t been for you…”

  They kissed again, started everything again, finished again. Finally she said, “I guess we’d better quit screwing around and get back to business.” They laughed at that until they cried.

  Once they were dressed, she said, “Back to my original question. What do we need to be doing now? Nonsexual things, I mean!”

  “Tell me in twenty words or less what you have to show me; then I’ll tell you what we need to do next. We have some time, so let’s hear what’s going on and decide if we can see it now or if we have to wait.”

  “Back there – back through that tunnel – there’s something that’s going to blow your mind. It’s going to change everything archaeologists and anthropologists believe about the Old World-Mesoamerican connection. This won’t take long to see. It’ll take much longer – some other time – to study it.”

  Paul answered excitedly, “Let’s see it. Now. We have to meet everyone at the river. It’ll take an hour to walk there, but the boats won’t come for at least two and a half hours after that. We’ve got plenty of time. Show me what you’ve got!”

  “I already did that,” she quipped. “I’ve shown you everything I have. Oh, pardon me! My mistake! You’re talking about my discovery, aren’t you?”

  He laughed at her boundless enthusiasm. It was pointless to admonish her for having gone into the tunnel alone. He’d known it was going to happen. She was like that. She’d made some kind of discovery; that overshadowed his concern she might get trapped, which hadn’t happened anyway. And he truly wanted to see what she’d found. Even more, he wanted her. He was enjoying these feelings, ones he’d once thought too dangerous to ever experience. It had been a long, long time since anyone meant anything to him. And no one had ever been this close – ever in his life. He wanted Hailey Knox more than anything in the world. He wanted to feel something he’d never allowed himself to feel. Love.

  He loaded her headlamp with fresh batteries and they duck-walked through the tunnel. At the turn she pointed out the ushabti.

  “Here’s your little man. Right where I found him!”

  “Incredible! Isaiah Taylor’s journal was right!”

  Slithering through a tunnel four feet high wasn’t easy for casual conversation – she grunted an affirmation and they kept moving. They ended up in the large room, and she shined her light toward the far wall. When he saw a thousand bright hieroglyphs, he was speechless. He stared in silence for several minutes, absorbing its magnificence.

  “Holy shit. Look at this.” He was incredulous, mystified at what he saw.

  Hailey finally broke the reverie. “Can you read glyphs?”

  “No. Can you?”

  “I sure can! These actually are easier for me to read than most.”

  “Why’s that? Aren’t they all the same?”

  “Yes, but there’s something special about these. I know this sounds crazy, but it’s true. I can read these because I’ve studied them at the university. I memorized these glyphs a few years ago.”

  Paul gave her a puzzled look. “I don’t get it. Are you saying someone’s been here before? Someone recorded these hieroglyphs and you’ve seen them in a textbook? How’s that possible? How come I never knew there were Egyptian hieroglyphs here in Guatemala? I’ve researched the possible Olmec-African connection a lot. Why have I never heard about these?”

  She shook her head with a smile. “Hold on and let me explain. You haven’t heard about these glyphs because we probably are the first people to see them in over a thousand years. Maybe the Mayans who built Piedras Negras saw this wall, maybe not. It was undoubtedly here when they came. In fact, it’d been here for two thousand years when the Mayans built their temples here.”

  Paul was dumbfounded. What the hell is she talking about?

  “These aren’t the glyphs I memorized from a textbook. They’re exact duplicates. With one exception, this wall is an identical replica – a carbon copy, if you will – of a wall in a thirty-five-hundred-year-old tomb in the Valley of the Kings.”

  “Bullshit. That’s impossible.”

  “Don’t be too hasty. This is exactly how archaeologists miss the important stuff. Don’t categorically deny something could be true just because it doesn’t fit traditional thinking. Think outside the box. See this?” She pointed to a group of symbols ringed by an oval. “Do you know what it is?”

  “It’s a cartouche. A royal name.”

  “Right. Do you know whose name it is?”

  “Not a clue.”

  She paused. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. “I can’t explain this. I can’t tell you how it’s possible. But it’s right there and it’s absolutely fascinating. This is a very familiar name glyph to Egyptologists. This cartouche is the single thing that’s different here. Other than this one cartouche, the whole wall is exactly the same as one in the Valley of the Kings. Any idea why a name would be inscribed here but not on the same wall drawing in Egypt?”

  “I presume you’re going to tell me.” He grinned excitedly.

  “There was no need to put the royal name on the wall in the Egyptian tomb because the king himself was buried there. Everything in the tomb was marked with his name. Here, thousands of miles away, it’s a different story. Someone wanted to link this place with a pharaoh.” She pointed again to the cartouche. “I know for a fact this guy isn’t buried behind this wall. He’s buried in Egypt. There’s no disputing that. So what the hell is behind this wall? Something that belonged to him? You and I have to find out.”

  He pointed to the cartouche. “Okay, Agatha Christie. Thanks for the buildup and the suspense. Give me the news. Whose name is that?”

  “Tutankhamun.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The pilot, two FBI agents and a Mexican Federal Police officer who had come in by floatplane protected the group until the boats arrived. There were far more people than the plane could handle.

  The officers loaded suitcases on the longboats as the passengers boarded one by one. Today’s boats had new drivers – the Ochoa cousins were in custody of the federales in Tuxtla Gutierrez.

  As his group boarded the first boat, Ted counted them off: Julio, Doc, Mary, Bart, Dick, and Alison. The four rebels, now in handcuffs, were ushered onto the second boat along with two lawmen and the luggage.

  Mark, Gavin, Hailey and Paul stayed behind, waving goodbye as the two boats slowly turned upstream and began the journey back to town. The officers waded out to the plane as the pilot went through his preflight checklist. The four watched the floatplane taxi to the middle of the river and skim along the water faster and faster. Within seconds it lifted off and turned south.

  The ones who were left were primed and ready to go
back to the cave. Gavin and Mark grabbed the last two pieces of luggage – their backpacks. Once they knew they’d be staying, they’d repacked, keeping necessities and sending the rest back to Frontera in the longboat. Hailey’s suitcases and Paul’s gear were back at the cave; they’d bring them when the floatplane picked them up. Everyone had a pistol.

  Mark was enthused and ready to move. “Let’s get started! I want to see what Hailey found!”

  As soon as he had seen the hieroglyphs, Paul knew he couldn’t leave now. What she found was exactly what brought him to Mexico, and he wasn’t going until he knew more about it. He also wanted to know a lot more about her. He was becoming more captivated with her by the minute.

  Although Hailey had had enough adventure to last a lifetime, she wasn’t ready to let this man go either. So they agreed they’d stay long enough to open what appeared to be a sealed door in the painted wall. They reluctantly agreed on one more thing. As much as they wanted to be alone, they had to offer the others a chance to see this discovery. Everyone on this trip had paid his dues a thousand times over. After what these archaeology buffs had endured, anyone who wanted deserved to see what Hailey had found.

  When Paul and Hailey arrived at the beach empty-handed, Ted asked where their luggage was. “We’re not going back yet,” Hailey said excitedly. They explained they’d found a connection between the Mesoamerican people and ancient Egypt.

  Paul said, “Anyone want to join us for a day or two longer? Just repack your bags and keep a light one with you. Send the others back to Frontera Corozal, and we’ll pick them up later.” He told Ted he’d call for a floatplane when they were ready to leave.

  Mark had joined the tour to serve as a combination guide and Olmec-Maya expert. He’d ended up being the de facto leader of a group of hostages, enduring more than he would have imagined experiencing in a lifetime. But he was an adventurer and had no immediate family waiting at home.