Aztec Odyssey

by Jay C. LaBarge

  Soba gave him a room key with a wink, tussled his hair, and got up and waved over her shoulder as she walked away, hips swaying, Nanook trotting at her side.

  “If you get in,” Nick called after her, laughing. “And stay away from that Colel chick, she’s nothing but trouble.” He heard Soba giggle at that one in the distance, and then she was gone.

  Nick thought of eating right at the convention center, which would have been convenient and allow him to get back to researching. But instead he followed his instincts and his nose, and wandered across the street, through a maze of shops and to a back-alley street with a cantina and a line of hungry patrons snaking out the door. He knew instinctively he had hit gastrointestinal pay dirt.

  He skipped the line of people waiting for a table and went directly to the bar and found a just vacated seat toward the middle. To his left a handsome local couple were having an animated conversation in Spanish, the woman gesturing wildly with her arms, poking a large man sharply in the chest. To his right sat a disheveled looking aventurero, judging from the smell of the trail on his clothes, the pack at his feet, and the tattered topographical map in front of him on the bar. A line of overturned shot glasses sat in a neat row along the top of the map. He glanced over at Nick, raised a full shot glass to him and nodded with a slight smile, then swigged the tequila and slammed the shot glass down, looking away, his eyes focusing on nothing.

  Nick nodded to the bar keep, pointed to his mouth like he was hungry and then to a shot glass on the bar and held up two fingers. The bar tender, an older man with a paunchy beer belly and hard lines on his face, pointed to a chalk board in the corner with the menu scrawled on it and poured two shots of tequila. Without a smile he put them unceremoniously in front of Nick and wandered off to tend other customers.

  “Fortuna favorece a los atrevidos,” Nick said in stilted Spanish as he passed a shot glass to the hiker to his right. The man came out of his daydream, his eyes refocusing as he grasped the shot, and raised it back toward Nick.

  “Indeed, fortune favors the bold,” he replied with a Mexican accent, and with a clink downed it and looked back into oblivion.

  Nick sensed the hiker wanted his privacy, and respectfully gave him his space. He ordered a Tecate draft and the house special, pork enchiladas, which he had smelled as he approached the cantina. When they arrived, he was pleased to see they came with a large side of black beans and rice and doused them with hot sauce and eagerly tucked into them. As he took a drink from his beer to wash the first bites down, the woman on his left was suddenly flung onto his lap, hitting his elbow and tossing his glass of beer straight up, drenching him.

  “Tu puta, como pudiste?” her male companion shouted, slapping her sharply across the face. She jumped off Nick’s lap, and started hitting the large man in the chest, yelling at him in Spanish too fast for Nick to comprehend. Before Nick could even react, the bar keep tossed a towel at him, and placed a fresh beer next to his food.

  “Lover’s quarrel,” the hiker to his right laughed, and slapped Nick on the shoulder. “Never a dull moment when somebody wanders, si amigo?”

  Nick glanced at the hiker, and then back at the couple, where the man now had the woman in his broad arms, laughing as her punches became softer, her words less loud, their lips finally embracing. A few of the indifferent crowd gave a brief cheer and raised glasses toward the couple, and then went back about their own noisy business. Nick noticed the hiker briefly glancing at two men sitting off to the side in back, who looked like they were in some type of uniform. It was hard to tell in the darkness and through the haze of smoke across the bar.

  Nick wiped his head and face off, and looked more closely at the hiker, who was now looking back with a bemused expression. Self-consciously smiling at himself, Nick tipped his glass toward him and said, “Salud,” and took a long deep drink.

  “Salud, and bienvenido,” the hiker replied, extending a calloused hand. “Chico Martinez, at your service.”

  Nick shook his hand, surprised at the firmness of the grip, the hardness of the calluses, and the sudden clarity he saw in someone he initially thought was off on a drunken bender.

  “Enough self-pity,” Chico said mostly to himself, and then ordered food to sober up. Turning back toward Nick he asked, “So what brings an Americano to the mean back streets of Cuernavaca?”

  For some reason Nick found himself taken in by this solitary figure, intuitively feeling there was a kindred spirit lurking underneath all that tequila. Nick told him how he had come south with Soba to her conference, that he was an archeologist by training, and was enjoying some free time to explore and take in the local culture. But he purposely didn’t tell him anything deeper about his own hidden agenda. Nick pointed to the map Chico had out on the bar and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “Si, this should be interesting to you. I work for the Department of Antiquities, and I’m just back from some newly discovered—how you say—ruinas toltecas,” Chico enthusiastically replied.

  Nick jabbed at a location on the map and grinned. “I spent a whole season working on Toltec ruins right near there, we uncovered some fantastic artifacts. That is why I can habla un poco de español. I’m going to show Soba what we found at the Museum in Mexico City after the conference.”

  Chico smiled and slowly shook his head. “You’re right, a little Spanish is all you can speak my gringo amigo. We weren’t so lucky at the new ruins we found, and that’s why I drink the tequila. We made the discovery using LIDAR to see through the vegetation in the hills, and before we could even begin to excavate, looters ransacked it.”

  Chico sat back and observed Nick and saw his face flush with a little color and the veins on his neck start to stand out. Obviously this was someone more interested in pursuing the truth than monetary gain.

  Nick composed himself and spoke quietly, so only Chico could hear. “Too many countries around the world are slowly losing their heritage to the greedy few. The stories that need to be heard by everyone are being sequestered so selfish men can stoke their egos and flip off the rest of humanity. Looters are a plague I wish we could eradicate, but it is the goddamn collectors who entice them that are the real menace. But money trumps hunger, and if even the Egyptians looted their own tombs, then I suspect looters will always be with us.”

  Chico leaned in closer to Nick and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Down here, honesty doesn’t pay amigo. In fact, it can get you delicado—how you say—killed. Invisible men pull all the strings, and they have infiltrated every part of every agency, like ghosts. We have a leak in ours, and that’s why the best pieces go missing, and they leave us crumbs, almost like they are taunting us.”

  Looking at Chico through fresh eyes, Nick inquired, “So why are you so vested in all this, my Mexican friend?”

  “Ah, I am indeed Mexican, but also Spanish blooded. I am meztizo, the worst of all and the best of nothing,” he joked, laughing loudly at his own witticism. “But we can still be proud of all our roots, can we not? Can’t we take pride in our heritage and the great accomplishments of our ancestors?”

  Nick caught the eye of the bar tender and put up two fingers. “Just for the record, you’re English is a whole lot better than my Spanish. Where did you learn it?” he asked as he passed a shot to Chico.

  Chico fingered the chipped shot glass for a moment, then looked up. “I was lucky, I got sponsored and accepted to the Archeology and Archaeometry program at Rice University in Houston, and while I could speak a little English before then, I got mucho fluido while there.”

  Nick was duly impressed. Archaeometry focused on utilizing scientific techniques in analyzing archaeological materials to assist in dating them. This was no footloose treasure seeker he had bumped into. Chico was an educated patriot, trying to do the right thing from within the system, however imperfect that system might be.

  “Then toca fondo friend, and to fighting the good fight,” Nick toasted.

  “Yes, bottoms up, camarada. To
the buena lucha.”

  Nick spent the next hour in an animated conversation with Chico, becoming slightly buzzed while Chico maintained the equilibrium of his evening binge. When Nick decided it was time to leave, Chico stood and gave Nick his card, a boozy hug and a pat on the back. As he walked out Nick saw a pretty woman immediately sit in his just vacated seat, and Chico glanced up and gave him a sly smile and a wink.

  Stepping fully outside Nick looked up at the stars and stretched his arms high, breathing in a refreshing lungful of fresh air. He had lost track of time in the smoky bar, and it felt good to move about and limber up. Twisting his torso back and forth to stretch, he was startled to hear someone right in back of him flick open a lighter, kindle something and take a deep drag, followed by two brief coughs, a smoker’s cough. He was tapped on the shoulder and smelled the expelled smoke even before he turned.

  “Beware of that one. We’ve been following him for some time now, and he is not what he appears to be,” said a sallow faced policeman in a dark uniform. His English was clipped, his barely visible eyes unflinching. His larger companion, who Nick hadn’t initially noticed because of the glare from the cantina, gave an acknowledging grunt in the background.

  A shot of adrenaline coursed through his veins, focusing him, and Nick asked, “And what exactly does he appear to be?”

  “Harmless. And it would certainly be a mistake to think otherwise. Too many valuable artifacts have come up missing, too many coincidences. I think you could understand how we have our suspicions when the same person keeps turning up in the middle of missing items.”

  Nick rubbed his hands together and frowned, thinking back, trying to decipher the evening’s conversation with Chico. They had covered a lot of ground, the exchange between similar professional minds expansive and invigorating.

  “He seemed sincere to me. And knowledgeable. Like he really understood antiquities, and the science behind them,” Nick protested.

  “This is not a safe place for Americanos señor, sniffing around antiquities is not a safe profession in Mexica. Be careful who you befriend,” came the ominous reply.

  Nick was about to ask another question when his phone rang, and as he reached down to silence it he saw that it was Charlie returning his call. He clicked it to voice mail, and expectantly looked back up to continue the conversation. But no one was there, just a little swirl of cigarillo smoke wafting away in an evening breeze. Nick squinted and looked all around, then shrugged his shoulders and headed back through the alley to the hotel.

  In the parking lot he stopped to grab a few things out of his truck, and then let himself into the hotel room. A real room, he thought when he saw it. It was way more luxurious than he had anticipated. Feeling grimy from the evening at the bar, Nick slipped out of his clothes and jumped in the shower, and let the pulsating hot water ease the stress away. He dried off and slipped under the soft quilt comforter on an oversized bed and was asleep before he even hit the pillow.

  Later, still slightly buzzed and in a deep slumber, he awoke with a start when something hot blew in his ear. “Awe, cut it out Soba,” he mumbled, “I’m just so beat.”

  “That’s not me silly,” she whispered to him, gently stroking his lips with her finger. A lick and a huff in his ear confirmed it was Nanook, who nudged harder and harder until Nick rolled over and made eye contact and gave him a rub. Satisfied, the wolf wandered off, sniffing around the room for any signs of prior inhabitants.

  As he lay there regaining his bearings, Nick closed his eyes again until he briefly tasted a delicate mescal flavored kiss, and then heard Soba purr in his other ear.

  “Mąʼiitsoh nahałʼin,” she softly crooned in Navajo, teasing him with her new nickname for him. “We have this lovely room and clean sheets, it sure would be a shame not to mess them up.”

  Chapter 28 – June 29

  She certainly is an exquisite creature, even when she sleeps, Nick thought as he lay in bed across from Soba.

  He gazed at her in the soft morning light that streamed in around the edges of the curtains. He wouldn’t call it angelic, that wasn’t her nature, more like mischievous and strikingly attractive. She gave no more pretenses of early dating decorum here, just good deep breathing, up from the toes, enough to make some of her black hair wave up and down.

  Nick grinned inwardly. This wasn’t like in the movies, where people woke up and rolled over and kissed intimately as if they had just brushed their teeth and gargled with mouthwash. No, this was reality, where you kind of covered your mouth until you could sneak into the bathroom and then crawl back under the covers, ready for that kiss.

  He thought he had heard Soba get up a little while ago, so Nick had just done his own sneaking, and was back under the covers for the first kiss of the day to remember a memorable night. He leaned in and kissed her deeply, then quickly sat back up. Soba mumbled, “Sorry,” put a hand over her mouth and stumbled to the bathroom. Nick laughed and went over and rubbed Nanook.

  “Now you wouldn’t do that to me, would you boy? You would never eat something really nasty or put your nose where it shouldn’t have been and then lick my face, no, not you,” Nick murmured. “Cause you’re a good boy, that’s what you are, a good boy.”

  Nanook rolled over and enjoyed the stroking, then suddenly tilted his head when he heard a gargle that sounded like a lawn mower starting. He thumped his tail hard when a sassy looking Soba emerged from the bathroom, loudly smacking her lips.

  “Now where were we, white boy,” she called, playfully creeping over the bed until she had Nick cornered against the wall.

  She wrapped her long arms and one leg around him and leaned in and gave him a long, wet kiss, with a tease of a flick of the tongue before she lay her head on his shoulder. Slightly smoky hair that smelled like piñon pine and desert herbs, it got him every time.

  “And just for the record, I didn’t eat anything nasty last night,” she sighed. Nick raised an eyebrow and was about to offer a wisecrack, but prudently thought better of it.

  As Soba showered, he listened to the voice mail from Charlie, and took a chance and called him. Charlie immediately picked up while he was driving in from the suburbs to his office in downtown Chicago.

  “Hey man, sorry I missed your call last night. I was getting some regional intel from a guy who works for the department of antiquities. He was complaining about all the corruption, and then a couple of local policía chat me up and say this same guy is the common denominator on stuff coming up missing. I tell you it’s the wild west down here south of the border, Pedro,” Nick informed him.

  “Good to hear your voice bro,” Charlie replied. “You would do well to stay out of the crosshairs of any turf battles going on down there. With your white ass you don’t exactly blend in with the locals. And regardless of what you do or don’t find, always remember, all that glitters is not gold.”

  The brothers chatted for fifteen minutes, getting caught up on Nick’s latest adventures, and his work to frame out his upcoming search of the archives. Charlie offered not just his own help, but that of his firm, which was skilled in investigating international businesses and money trails. The hedge fund had to do due diligence on all its investments, both domestic and abroad, and some countries were notorious for graft and corruption. Like those in Central America. Charlie readily admitted their methods and sources could be unconventional, but he found them both very discrete and very effective. More than once they had saved tens of millions by steering away from bad investments, corrupt politicians, and lawyers and judges on the take. Finally caught up, they said their goodbyes as Charlie walked to his office.

  Nick had toyed with telling him about the black box transmitter he found under the truck but decided against it. He had an increasing feeling he was being watched, and impulsively unscrewed the ear and mouthpiece of the hotel room phone. Nothing, it all looked normal, maybe his imagination was just getting the best of him. But this was real. You couldn’t be too paranoid with a blinking black box s
itting in your truck.

  Soba wandered out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. She gathered and organized her things for practicing her presentation, which she would give tomorrow. She was a little nervous, but also excited and wanted to fine tune it. There would be a series of breakout sessions today for the conference attendees, and hers tomorrow was near the end of the general session. Nick had teased her she must carry a lot of weight for one so young to be presenting just before the conclusion by the tribal elders.

  “Well, it’s all in here, for the good or the bad,” Soba said as she held up a small thumb drive. “I’m going to go over to the business center and do one more dry run through it, and then go to the other sessions.”

  “I’ve heard it three times already, you’ve got it down pat. You’ll do just fine,” Nick reassured her with a wink. “It’s well constructed and passionate. Just like you.”

  “Thanks, but the message I want to convey isn’t the one you seem to keep picking up on,” Soba said with a sly smile. “Stay out of trouble, would you? I’ll see you later tonight.”

  After Soba and Nanook left, Nick gathered his things and wandered over to his now favorite spot on the veranda outside the business center. He filled his insulated mug with iced cucumber-water from a dispenser and sat down determined to flesh out more details in his Known Southwest Expeditions research spreadsheet. Engrossed completely in his task, several hours passed before he hit the proverbial brick wall. The information he was finding was varied, the level of detail for some of the prior expeditions well researched, and for others no more than myth and conjecture. If he was going to crack the code, he had to get into the right mindset, and to do that he had to get out of the present, away from the air conditioning and the internet. He somehow needed to put himself in the shoes of those he was seeking to follow. Sitting here staring at a computer screen sipping flavored water at a modern resort just wasn’t cutting it.