Treasure of the Mayan King (2012)

by Alehandro

  Octavio grabbed his chest as his heart began to flutter with pain. “No! I don’t believe in ghosts! Show yourself to me!”

  The stranger stepped into the light and Octavio’s mind reeled with emotional shock. “It can’t be - it simply can’t! No, not you!”

  “You were a fool to discover this place. It is my job to protect this treasure. No one will desecrate it and live!”

  He stepped forward and leaned down, a twisted smile on his face. “And now, you will die for your sins.”

  Octavio could no longer hear him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Are you sure you know the way?” Gustavo asked as he drove their rented Jeep. He crashed through the bushes of the jungle, splashed through deep mud puddles and plowed through the thick vegetation.

  Chauncy held onto the roll bar and looked straight ahead. “Yes, yes of course I do.”

  Gustavo talked between bumps. “Now you know why I don’t come here. I would rather take my wife to Acapulco. I like luxurious hotels, good food, fine wine and massages.”

  Chauncy chuckled. “You should spend some time on an archaeological dig. The conditions are wretched, but the thrill of discovery is awesome!”

  Gustavo slammed on the brakes as a jaguar crossed their path. He wrenched out his gun and aimed.

  Chauncy gently pushed Gustavo’s arm down. “What’s the matter with you? Let the poor animal cross the road. He isn’t going to hurt you.”

  “Big cats with big claws make me nervous!” Gustavo exclaimed as the cat fled back into the jungle.

  Chauncy grinned as he picked up his binoculars. “There it is, just like I said. Temple #22, in all its ancient splendor.”

  As Gustavo put the Jeep in gear, Chauncy waved a hand at him. “No, no, no. From here we walk.”

  “Walk? Are you crazy? What about jaguars?”

  “These cats are more afraid of us than we should be of them. You’re just used to the comfort and safety of a helicopter. We need stealth, not speed,” he said. He patted Gustavo’s shoulder holster. “You have a gun, remember?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The mysterious killer knelt beside Octavio’s body. Laying the scroll over the corpse’s chest, he crossed Octavio’s limp arms over it. Then from the pile of treasure he selected a death mask, one that was decorated with jade and mother-of-pearl, and placed it gently over the dead man’s face.

  He collected the lights and began pulling the cord up the long staircase. In the harsh light of the sun he piled Octavio’s equipment into the white van.

  Disappearing between the trees, he returned with a box labeled “Caution - Explosives” and a small hand-activated detonator. He didn’t waste much time with careful placement of the dynamite. There was plenty to do the job, even if he was a little careless. He connected the detonating cable to each bundle of dynamite and began walking backward away from the cave’s entrance, uncoiling the cable.

  Just as he reached the end of it he felt the cold barrel of a gun in his back. “Stop right there! Put your hands up.”

  The stranger slowly turned around, obeying Gustavo’s commands. He had a perplexed look on his face. “Gustavo De Leon and Chauncy Rollock! How did you find me?” Then in a quieter voice, “So close. I was so close.”

  It was hard to tell who of the three was most surprised. Gustavo barely recognized the face. He wouldn’t have recognized the voice at all.

  “Miguelito?” Gustavo said.

  Chauncy blurted, “You speak Spanish!”

  De Leon glanced at Chauncy. “Yes, Chauncy. He speaks Spanish. He’s not dimwitted. It was all an act.” Then he turned to Miguelito, “Where’s Octavio?”

  Miguelito sighed and then answered. “He’s down in the cave - forever!”

  Gustavo’s eyes widened. “Octavio didn’t kill his partners, you did, just like you killed Octavio.”

  “Finally the investigator begins to understand just a little. At least now you can stop calling me Miguelito.” Smiling, he bowed his head slightly and said, “My name is King Chac.”

  Gustavo shook his head as if a fly were buzzing in his face. “No, no, no. This makes no sense.”

  Chauncy acted as if he were waking from a dream. “I think maybe it does, Gustavo. I think there’s a story here and maybe we should hear it.”

  Gustavo gestured toward a shady tree with two large rocks under it. “Let’s at least sit in the shade while we listen to it.”

  King Chac lowered his hands, walked to a boulder and sat down. Gustavo watched him move, thinking how complete the transformation was. He was no longer a sickly old man. A smooth agility had replaced the dragging shuffle and an intelligent light had replaced the glazed look in his eyes. Gustavo and Chauncy sat side-by-side on the other rock.

  King Chac looked at the two men. “It seems that I have no choice but to tell you my story, Mr. De Leon and Mr. Rollock. I was on a sacred mission, which I have failed. I was born here in the mountains of the Yucatan peninsula. I am from the Quiche Maya tribe. My parents named me King Chac, because I am a descendant of the great king whose tomb you Mestizos desecrated at the so-called Temple #22, the Temple of Chac.

  “Centuries ago we were a mighty people. King Chac was our mightiest king. We sacrificed to our gods and had their protection. We were the most powerful people of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, and our great temples filled Palenque!

  “But King Chac’s empire faded, and the Quiche Maya had to migrate to other areas to avoid famine. Most stayed in the mountains and struggled to survive. But then the Spanish conquest came. Oh, how they devastated our people! They destroyed our way of life and our heritage and made us their slaves. They took away our idol gods and gave us new idols to worship. Smallpox and other diseases ruined our race; those who could escaped to the mountains. Like the Lacondon, we hid in the mountains and jungles where the Spanish couldn’t find us.

  “For generations we hid there. Then the airplanes came. They saw our villages. Others followed who took away our lands and made us live in poverty. Our temples and treasures have been plundered and destroyed. Greedy men with evil intentions have done so much damage, and even those with good intentions sent our treasures away to museums. Little by little our way of life was being destroyed. It was foretold that I would be the one to save our people. I am a descendant of King Chac. From infancy my parents taught me that I would fulfill the prophecies foretelling the great restoration of our people.

  “One day news came to the village of the famous French archaeologist who intended to decipher King Chac’s riddle. For three weeks I meditated in a small hut far outside our village, seeking the wisdom of the gods.

  “I left the mountains and went to the lowland jungles of Merida. Believing that I was a moron, Dr. Sova saved himself a few pesos and hired me to perform simple tasks around his hacienda. Working at the hacienda gave me the opportunity to study Dr. Sova, just as he studied the Great Riddle. Then you came, Mr. Rollock, and after a few weeks you left again.

  “Dr. Sova continued to work on the scroll, but over time he became erratic. He would disappear for long periods at a time. About six months ago we realized that he would never return. As you know, his widow sold the house but I stayed on with the other caretakers. They looked down on me as much as you Mestizos. So my disguise fooled them completely. I could wander off any time I wanted. It was easy to disappear long enough to give Barrios and Martinez their invitations to Xibalba. Octavio slipped away but I suspected he knew the location of the treasure. So instead of searching for him, I came here. With those three dead and the cave dynamited, no one would ever find it again.

  “I have failed. You will reveal this place to the authorities and our treasures will be taken from our people! Nothing will be left for us! Nothing!”

  Gustavo shook his head in dismay. Finally, finally everything made sense. And yet, it was not due to his ability as a detective, but because of the story he had just heard. He could see there was only one thing to do. It would be difficult; but doing the r
ight thing so often is. “Come with me,” he growled.

  King Chac and Chauncy followed him to where the detonator lay. De Leon looked at the gun in his hand as if wondering why he was still holding it. He shoved it back into the holster.

  “Pick up the detonator and use it!” he ordered.

  “What?” King Chac became rather slack jawed.

  “I said press the detonator. Do it before I change my mind!”

  Chac dropped to his knees and slammed his hand on the detonator button.

  The percussion of the explosion filled the small valley with dust. As it settled the men coughed and sputtered, then stood in silence staring at the dusty rubble that filled the mouth of the cave.

  Chac turned toward De Leon and held his arms out, his wrists together, expecting to be handcuffed.

  Gustavo shook his head slowly. “I no longer work for the police or the military, King Chac. Let them find you and arrest you. I’m just a private investigator. My client is dead. My job is done. I’m the one who had it all wrong.” Gustavo waved his hand at the mountain. “The treasure of the Mayan king does not belong to Mexico or any other government. It belongs to you and your people. I’ve seen enough greed to last a lifetime and I am simply not interested in letting anyone know about this treasure. Rest assured I’ll never share the secret of the Mayan treasure with anyone. And Mr. Rollock has already shown that he wants it to be kept secret.”

  Chauncy spoke up. “I only revealed the secret to help Gustavo solve this crime. It’s over now and I’ll never have reason to reveal it again.”

  “I’m not condoning murder,” Gustavo continued. “I have heard that there is a God that will judge the entire earth. But I am not God. Let Him judge you, as he will judge us all someday.”

  King Chac bowed low. “Gustavo De Leon, you show greater insight than any Mestizo I’ve ever known.”

  Gustavo scowled at Chac. “But there are others, Chac. There will always be others. Your secret is safe for now. But mark my words: sometime, somewhere, somehow, someone is going to attempt to find the treasure again and this evil game will start all over. The greed, the treachery, the murder, the madness - one day the treasure of the Mayan king will be found again.”

  Taking a step back, he returned King Chac’s bow, then turned without a word and walked toward the jungle. Chauncy followed suit. Moments later King Chac stood alone in the clearing.

  Then the Mayan king turned and disappeared into the jungle.