“If the kid was going to go to the cops, he’d already have done it,” Kane interrupted. “So you stay away from him. Leave it to me. I’ll get the drawing and no one will get hurt.”
“Yeah, okay.” Raymond fingered the knife attached to his belt. He’d back off for now. Later if he had to take care of the kid – he would. There were lots of places in the jungle where a body could be hidden and no one would ever find it.
###
Zack wasn’t interested in watching Bruce and Kyle play Big Man on Campus. “I’ll meet you guys later,” he said, anxious to make his escape and take another look at the piece of paper still in his copy of Frommer’s. “I’m going to lie down for a little bit.”
It was cooler in his room than it had been on the veranda. He checked on the tarantula before removing the drawing from of the travel guide. It was still hidden in his jeans. Zack took out the paper and spent the next hour trying to decipher the words before realizing that there was no way he could figure it out by himself. He slipped the piece of paper into his pocket. Even if Maria hated him maybe she’d help him decipher the paper. After all, it had to do with her precious Maya.
But, Maria had already left. Josh said she’d gone to the visitor’s center in the hotel-restaurant area. Zack thought about the long walk through the jungle. “I guess I’ll wait for her to get back,” he said.
“Ask Dusty to give you a ride,” Josh suggested. “ He just came back, but he’ll have to leave again and pick up Dr. Collins.”
“Did I hear my name taken in vain?” Dusty asked, stepping out on the porch.
“Zack wants a ride to the Tourist Center,” Josh explained.
“Sure, thing, cowboy. Be glad to take you,” Dusty grinned.
“Thanks,” Zack said. “I don’t care to do any more hiking in the jungle.”
“Don’t blame you for that,” Dusty said, opening the door of one of the Jeep Cherokees.
“Who owns that beat up old army jeep I keep seeing around here,” Zack asked, climbing in the passenger’s side.
“Army jeep?” Dusty answered, turning the key in the ignition. “Don’t know about any old army jeep. But, lots of people drive here from the Yucatan of Mexico. Some come from as far away as Texas. You’re apt to see quite a few junky cars.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Zack said. “You sound like you’re from Texas.”
“Yep, Houston born and raised. This climate’s real close to Houston weather. A touch hotter that’s all. I supervised roughnecks on the rigs before the oil business went bust in the 80’s. Damn those Arabs. Now, I’m down here supervising workers at an archaeological site. Figure that one out.”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s okay,” Dusty grinned. “At least I don’t have to roust these Guatemalan fellows from the local hotel-motels in the mornings and nurse their hangovers. Man, how those roughnecks can drink.” Dusty glanced at Zack. “So you and you brother are staying here with Cliff?”
“Yeah,” Zack nodded.
“Having fun?”
“It’s okay,” Zack mimicked.
Dusty laughed. “I take it that it’s not really your thing? Well, the peace and quiet require getting used to, but after a few days you won’t know how you ever lived without it. When you get back you’ll be weaned off television, that’s for sure.”
“I guess,” Zack answered. “I sure miss it now, though.”
They drove along the broken road, reached the main road, and took a left into traffic, settling in behind a tourist bus. A short while later, Dusty pulled up to a stop in front of a terraced building set at the top of a small hill.
The Visitor’s Center is up there, to the left of that breezeway.”
Zack opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“My pleasure,” Dusty answered.
Zack waited for the traffic to pass, dashed across the street, and climbed the steps to the landing. The door to the Visitor’s Center was locked. He looked through the windows. It was dark inside and no one was there. He wandered through the wide breezeway that connected the visitor’s center with the open-air restaurant.
Set in the breezeway was a large diorama of Tikal, showing the city as it had been during the height of its glory. The Great Plaza, which had been the ceremonial center of the city, was only a very small part of the total Tikal complex. He studied the model, impressed at the size of the city. Like Maria had said, the sight of the painted temples surrounded by colorful birds, brilliant flowers, and brightly dressed people must have been an incredible sight.
The open-air restaurant was completely empty except for the bartender. He looked up at Zack.
“I’ll have a Pepsi,” Zack said, walking over to the bar. The waiter put a bottle up on the counter and stuck a straw in it. Zack paid for the drink and went to a table by the small wall that separated the restaurant from the surrounding grounds.
While not elevated enough to see any of the temples through the trees, the view was still spectacular. Below him a gravel road lead to the ruins as well as the Jungle Lodge and Tikal Inn, both surrounded by lush tropical landscaping. He could see a modest building that was the museum and next to it a small shop that sold tourist items.
Suddenly, a large hand applied painful pressure to his shoulder. “Hi kid,” Raymond said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Zack winced as the murderer tightened the grip on his shoulder. “Remember me? Yeah, I thought so. You and I need to have a little talk.”
Zack’s heart skipped a beat. “What about?”
“You have something I want.”
Zack forced his head around looking for the bartender, but he was gone.
“That’s right boy, we’re alone.” Raymond dug his fingers deeper into Zack’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t try to compete with the pros.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zack mumbled.
“Sure, you do. Don’t play dumb. Dumb will get your throat cut from ear to ear. Slowly. Dumb will get you dead. Like Albie.” Raymond removed his hand from Zack’s shoulder and immediately Zack felt the sharp point of a knife through his shirt.
“I’m just a tourist,” Zack insisted. “Here on vacation for a month. I don’t know anything about anything.” Raymond stuck the knife deeper into Zack’s side and Zack winced as the cold steel cut through his shirt.
“You’re lying, kid. For openers, I know about Miguel.” Without removing his knife, Raymond tipped up his bottle of beer and took a sip. “Okay,” he said, setting the bottle down so hard that foam poured out the top. “I’ll make this easy for you. I’ll tell you what I know so you won’t feel you need to lie. I know you’re a member of the same group of dirt diggers that Miguel was with. I know that Albie was waiting for you in the alley when I showed up instead. I know Albie didn’t have the drawing. I searched him. That means you have it. You have it. I want it. And, I’ll kill for it. It’s that simple, boy.”
“I don’t know any Albie and I don’t have any drawing.” Zack tensed as the blade nicked the surface of his skin.
“Don’t be a stupid kid. I could stick you right now and get away with it.”
“I was in the alley,” Zack said. “I admit that. I admit I saw you with the Canadian . . .” Zack stopped at the mistake.
The smuggler smirked. “Yep, you just blew it didn’t you? Like I said. Don’t try to compete with the pros. I didn’t say he was Canadian.”
“I read it in the newspaper.”
“No you didn’t. There was nothing in the paper about Albie being a Canadian. And, he was dead when I left him, so you didn’t learn it from him.”
“Zack?” Clifton stood at the entrance to the restaurant.
Raymond leaned over and growled in Zack’s ear, “You talk tough, but I can smell your fear. I’ll be getting back to you.” He gave Zack a final jab with the knife. “Meanwhile, you tell anybody anything and I’ll kill you in your sleep.” He stalked pass Clifton without a glance.
Clifton watched Raymond leav
e then joined Zack at the table. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Who was that guy?”
“Don’t know,” Zack answered. “He had me mixed up with someone else.”
The bartender reappeared and busied himself wiping glasses.
“He seemed pretty convinced that he had the right person.” Clifton pointed to the blood on Zack’s shirt. “Tell me about it. Now.”
Zack covered his shirt with his hand, and looked over the small wall at the dirt road where groups of tourists were walking to the ruins.
Clifton went on, “Well?”
Zack paused, trying to get his words together. He didn’t want to be stuck here for eternity, but there didn’t seem to be any other choice. The murderer knew all about him, who he was and where to find him. He took a deep breath.
“Didn’t take you long to find your element, did it Zack?” his uncle said. “Why do you want to be around people like that? You think they’re cool or something? He’s like that trashy friend of yours who got you got into so much trouble last year.”
“Leave Fletcher out of this,” Zack demanded, angry now. He’d be damned before he’d admit anything to his uncle. “Anyway, what do you know about it?”
“I know all about it. Don’t you think guys like him are a little rough?”
Zack shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Yeah? You don’t look like you’re handling it real well. Damn it, Zack, what’s wrong with you? You’ve had the same upbringing Kyle has had, and yet the difference between the two of you is like night and day. Your parents are the best anybody could have. They took you in and gave you a good home. You should be more like Kyle, instead of giving everyone so damned much trouble.”
“You make it sound like I’m a frigging stray dog or something.”
“Don’t be such a smart mouth. You know what I’m saying.”
“Yeah, well maybe it’s in my genes. Maybe my real old man was a criminal or something, maybe even a mass murderer.”
“Is that what you want to be? A criminal? Is that what appeals to you? Well, let me tell you something. Here in Guatemala they not only lock you up and throw away the key, they also cut off your body parts and feed them to you bite by bite.”
That did it. Zack shoved his chair away from the table. It fell over and hit the floor with a bang. He leaped the retaining wall, landed on his knees, and slipped and stumbled on the loose rocks and sparse vegetation until he reached the gravel road at the bottom of the hill. He sprinted across the road and ducked into the museum. It was a small one-room building packed with potshards, ceramic pots and various precious artifacts.
As he looked around, he found Maria squatted down in front of a tall glass case, studying a small grim statue.
“Hey,” he said.
She cast him a sour look. “Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?”
“I was in the area,” Zack said. “I thought I’d check it out.”
“Right.”
“Okay, I admit it. I was looking for you. I need to talk with you,” Zack said.
“I’m busy,” she said. “Maybe later.” She glanced at his bloody shirt. “What happened to you?”
“Oh, nothing. I had an accident, that’s all. It’s no big deal. But, I do need your help with something. Something important.”
She stood up and arched her back. ”Okay, okay,” she conceded. “What about?”
Zack grabbed her arm. “Not in here. Someplace private. Someplace where we won’t be overheard.”
She shook herself loose from his grip. “What about?”
“Not here,” he insisted.
“Fine. Let’s go get something to drink.”
They left the museum and she took him to the small restaurant in the Jaguar Inn. They pulled two bottles of soda out of the cooler in front of the bar and then went around the back to a picnic table.
“Is this okay?” Maria asked. “What’s so important?”
“I have something to show you. But first, promise me you won’t tell anyone unless I say it’s all right.”
“Oh, forget it,” she said, starting to walk away.
“It’s about your precious Maya,” he teased.
She stopped and turned around. “Okay, I promise, I guess.”
“Swear? I mean it. Swear on your mother’s tomb.”
“Zack, what’s, going on? What’s this all about?”
“Swear.”
“Okay, okay. I swear. Now what is it?”
Zack reached into his back pocket, pulled out the drawing and smoothed it out on the table. “Take a look at this and tell me if it’s what I think it is.”
The look in her eyes changed from annoyed to amazed as she comprehended what it was she was looking at. “Where’d you get this?” she whispered.
“I found it in Guatemala City. It’s a map right? Am I right?”
“How did you find it?” she asked again, studying his face.
“Never mind that. Can you read it? Can you make out what it says?”
She picked up the paper and looked at it closely. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”
“I want you to help me decipher it.” God, it was like pulling teeth.
“I’ll do my best,” she said slowly looking again at the map. “Okay, it looks like it’s written in Spanish and also Yucatec Mayan. If so, flores is probably the town of Flores. If that’s right, then this oval might be Lake Petén-Itza, and Serro Kauhi is the peninsula that looks like an alligator.”
“Serro Kauhi. Yeah, I remember that. We drove by it on the way in, our driver pointed it out.”
“Aktun Kan means ‘Cave of the Serpent.”
“Where is that?”
“Across the lake. The rest of this is a little harder. Beside the cave are the words ‘mo’o’ and ‘uitz.’ ‘Mo’o’ is parrot, no its not, its Macaw. ‘Uitz’ is hill. Macaw Hill. ‘Ooc-hi’ is Mayan for enter. Rather he entered. I would guess that someone entered the Cave of the Serpent, which is by Macaw Hill.”
“That makes sense,” Zack said starting to take the paper away.
“No, wait. There’s more. ‘Dzi’b’ is writing, ‘ch’ul’ is holy, and ‘hu’un’ is book.” Maria’s eyes grew wide as the words sank in. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “They’re not talking about Spanish gold! They’re talking about a book of holy writing! And, down here,” Maria pointed to the picture of the monkey holding a stick. “This is a sign of the monkey scribes. Monkeys were the patron gods of writing. If this is true, then do you know what it means?”
“Not really.”
“Remember I told you that thousands and thousands of Mayan books were burned by the Spanish? No other people ever had their history and culture destroyed the way the Maya have. And, this isn’t just a book, this is a holy book.”
She went back to the paper. “These other glyphs weren’t copied very accurately. Whoever made this map knew something about the language and deciphering the glyphs, but not much. Where did you say you got this?”
Zack told her simply that he’d found it on the street in Guatemala City.
“I’ve never heard of Macaw Hill, so let’s see what else we have. There’s the word ‘sijolaj’ and beside it is ‘aktun’, cave, again. ‘Sijolaj’ is a kind of whistle. Whistling Cave?” she asked.
Zack nodded, getting excited now.
Maria went on, “This whistling cave has ‘kin’ written beside it and five bars with two dots. ‘Kin’ is Mayan long count for one day. Each line represents five, each dot, one. The five bars and two dots would equal twenty-seven. Twenty-seven what? Miles? The Maya didn’t count in miles, or kilometers either for that matter.”
“But,” Zack interjected. “Whoever made this map wasn’t Mayan, and they would measure in miles or kilometers. Probably kilometers. The Whistling Cave is twenty-seven kilometers from the Cave of the Serpent.”
“You’re right,” agreed Maria. “And, do you know what is twenty-something kilometers from Flores?”
“No, I don’t t
hink in kilometers.”
“Tikal!” Maria stopped, her excitement fading.
“What’s wrong?”
“This is exactly what Michael talked about. A whistling cave in Tikal. Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because, Tikal is a major tourist attraction. Even though there are a lot of structures to be excavated, everything that’s not buried has been explored by tourists and archaeologists alike. If there was a whistling cave around here everyone would know about it, including me.”
“You never heard of anything like that?”
“Only from Michael.”
Zack folded the paper up and replaced it in his pocket. “So, maybe it’s not a cave. How about a chultun? I hate to be shot down before we even get started.”
“It can’t be a chultun,” said Maria. “Chultuns are underground. I’m sorry Zack, but this map is garbage. You might as well throw it away.”
He finished the bottle of soda. “Guess that’s that. I’m going to head back to the bungalow.”
Maria nodded. “Me, too.”
“I’ll walk you back. If you want,” Zack offered. The murderer as well as his uncle might leave him alone if they saw him with someone else.
“Sure,” Maria said. Then surprised him by adding, “That would be nice.”
As they passed the Visitor’s Center, Zack looked up, but didn’t see anyone. After they left the center behind them, Maria turned onto a path and forty-five minutes later they came out behind Zack’s bungalow. They were walking around the side of the building when Maria grimaced at the sight of Sam and Kyle locked in an embrace on one of the chaise lounges.
“I guess it would be hard not to be charmed by her kind of looks,” Maria said.
“Yeah,” Zack breathed. Maria shot him a look of disgust, turned on her heel, and stalked off.
“Maria?” Zack called. “What now? What did I say?”
“It’s not what you said. It’s how you looked. I don’t need to have Sam thrown in my face all the time.”
“I wasn’t . . . at least I didn’t mean to.”
“Get real.”
“It’s just that girls like Sam,” Zack tried to explain. “They . . . well . . . they . . . ”
Ninth Lord of the Night Page 10
