by David Meyer
Grunting loudly, he tried to spin away. But I held on tight and dragged him to the ground. He went for a knife. I grabbed my machete.
Uneasily, we stared at each other. Then a faint whisper emanated from his earpiece. Moments later, he shoved the knife back into his belt. "You can keep your weapons. We're done … for now."
"Not quite." I swung my free fist. It crashed into his stomach and he inhaled sharply. "Now, we're done."
He took a few breaths. His eyes glinted dangerously. "This isn't over."
"I'm not going anywhere."
His gaze hardened. Then he took a few steps back and walked away.
Graham hobbled to my side. "What the hell was that?"
I picked up my gun. "I think we're about to find out."
The chopper door opened again. A woman emerged. She was a few inches shorter than me. Her dirty blonde hair was tied tightly behind her head. Her shoulders were shapely and symmetrical.
She wore black leggings, which showcased her toned legs. A long sleeve white shirt, topped off by a short sleeve black shirt, covered her torso. Underneath her clothes, her body looked ultra-tight. A trail runner perhaps? Definitely an athlete.
She hopped to the ground with ease. As she walked toward me, I saw she had a tiny nose and big brown eyes, which gave her a pixie-like look. "Hello, Cyclone."
It was the old I know your name and you don't know mine trick. I'd used it once or twice myself. "Call me Cy."
"I'm Emily Foxx." She spoke fast and easy, with no sign of an accent. "I'm the founder and Chief Executive Officer of Arclyon Corporation."
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"I'd be surprised if it did."
"Well, I don't care who you are. This is an archaeological site and your little machine here," I nodded at the helicopter, "threatens the integrity of the dig."
Her eyes flitted to the collapsed tomb. "Integrity, huh?"
"This site is under the jurisdiction of the INAH," Graham said. "Unless you've got permission to be here, you'll have to leave."
"I've got permission. After all, this is my dig."
I arched an eyebrow.
"You look skeptical."
"That's because I am." I nodded at Miranda. "It's her site."
"She might be in charge of it. But she works for me."
I glanced at Miranda.
"Remember that diary I mentioned?" Miranda said. "Well, she owns it."
"Hope's diary has been passed down in my family for years," Emily said. "I got it when I was a little girl. I used to read it every night and wonder if this place really existed."
I recovered quickly from my initial shock. "Well, now you know."
She smiled lightly.
I glanced at Miranda. "So, how do you fit into this picture? Wait. Let me guess. The INAH is stingy over dig sites, especially with outsiders. That's why Mexico's got hundreds of unearthed ruins. Everyone knows where to find them, but no one's allowed to dig them up. The two of you came to an arrangement. She agreed to fund the excavation. You agreed to get it past the INAH as well as manage it."
"You're close," Miranda replied. "But I only agreed to work for her after she reached an agreement with the INAH."
I swiveled toward Emily. "They gave you access?"
"They usually do for friends of the Presidente de los Estados Unidos Mexicanos," she replied.
"You know President Bustamante?"
"I dined with him last night at Los Pinos."
Los Pinos was Mexico's version of the White House. I gave Emily a close look. She didn't seem like the political type. Nor did she appear especially wealthy. Her clothes were stylish but not expensive. She didn't wear jewelry. And her manicure was neat but imperfect. Definitely not a professional job.
On the other hand, she possessed a helicopter. She'd hired the world's foremost authority on the Classic Maya civilization. And she claimed to be friends with the President of the United Mexican States.
"Miranda called me after the tomb imploded." Emily's eyes lingered on the ancient stone coffin. "She told me you saved the sarcophagus."
"I had help."
"Why don't you stick around for a bit? I might need you again before we're done here. I promise to make it worth your while."
I hesitated, but only for a moment. "I suppose I can do that."
"Good." Her smile widened and I saw her blazing white teeth. "Who knows? It might be the best decision you ever make."
Chapter 17
"Well, what do you know?" Dr. Qiang Wu poked his flashlight into the damaged end of the sarcophagus. "There are two sets of bones in here."
Emily frowned. "Are you sure?"
From what I'd gathered, Dr. Wu was Emily's personal physician as well as her pilot. His most prominent features were a pair of small eyes and an upturned nose. His black hair trailed down his puffy cheeks, forming an impressive set of sideburns. "There are two skulls and at least three femurs. Also, there's—"
"What about the gold plates?" Miranda said impatiently. "How do they look?"
"Nonexistent."
"That isn't funny."
"I'm not joking."
Miranda frowned. "Let me look."
The doc stood up. Miranda peered into the sarcophagus. Then her shoulders slumped. "Hope must've moved them."
"Or made them up," Graham said. "It wouldn't be the first time someone exaggerated a treasure trove."
"I doubt it." Emily's hands vanished into her bag. When they emerged, her fingers held a piece of cloth.
I took it from her. The cloth wasn't heavy but it felt substantial in my hands. I slowly unwrapped it and feasted my eyes on a sparkling object.
It was a thin triangular-shaped gold plate, measuring several inches on each side. Two of its edges were sharp and straight. However, the third edge was crimped, as if it had been removed from a larger object.
"Where'd you get this?" I asked.
"It was passed down with the diary." She pointed at the crimped edge. "See that? I think it was cut from a larger plate. Hope must've sliced it off before he left here."
I noticed markings on the plate. "These look old."
"The Maneros—those are Miranda's language experts—confirmed them as Maya hieroglyphics. And based on tiny particles embedded in the gold as well as other features, Rigoberta concluded they were carved sometime around 800 AD, give or take a century. That places it at the end of the Classic Maya era."
I turned the plate over and studied the hieroglyphics on the other side. They looked completely different. "Why'd the Mayas write on this?" I asked. "They knew how to make paper. They called it amatl."
"We don't know," Miranda said.
"I didn't even know the Mayas had gold. I thought they valued jade above other metals."
"They did. But they also owned gold as well. They appear to have held it in rather high esteem."
I handed the plate back to Emily. "So, what do the hieroglyphics say?"
"Enough to convince me this was a worthwhile investment," she replied.
I gave her a curious look. "What kind of company is Arclyon?"
"We invest in highly complex, unusual projects."
"Such as?"
"Mostly little-studied protosciences like oneirology, artificial intelligence, and astrobiology. We pride ourselves on being ahead of the pack."
"Why is a firm like yours interested in some old gold plates?"
"Have you ever heard of Ayahuasca?"
I shook my head.
"It's a hallucinogenic drink. For hundreds of years, shamans in the Amazon have used it to cure all sorts of diseases."
"Sounds like a scam to me," Graham said.
"It's not. Ayahuasca works. It kills worms and tropical parasites. It also induces vomiting and diarrhea, which expels still more parasites."
I smiled. "I bet it's a blast at parties."
"In its best-known form, Ayahuasca is brewed by boiling two separate plants. This creates a mixture containing a powerful hallucinogenic known as DMT
along with a secondary substance that orally activates it. The plants only work in synergistic fashion. So, how did ancient people know to use those two specific plants, out of the more than eighty thousand catalogued plants living in the Amazon Jungle?"
"Luck?"
"No one knows. But somehow, they figured it out." She looked around at the trees. "The Amazon doesn't have a monopoly on natural resources. I believe there are lots of remedies in this jungle, just waiting to be discovered. They could save millions of lives."
Her true intentions started to dawn on me. "And make you a lot of money too."
"Yes, that too. Does that bother you?"
"No. But it might bother the locals. They tend to frown on biopiracy."
"I'm not a biopirate. I'm a bioprospector."
Beverly gave her a skeptical look. "What's the difference?"
"Biopirates gather knowledge from indigenous people and use it to develop products. But I'm not interested in current knowledge. I'm interested in lost knowledge."
"What kind of lost knowledge?" Graham asked.
"Ancient Maya shamans were masters of the Lacandon Jungle. Over the course of many centuries, I believe they discovered dozens of natural remedies using widely scattered medicinal plants and herbs. If Hope's diary is correct, that information should still be available today."
"In what form?"
"Ancient books written by the Classic Maya civilization. All their secrets, all their history." She gave me a sly grin. "In other words, I'm searching for the lost Library of the Mayas."
Chapter 18
"That's impossible," I sputtered. "The conquistadors destroyed all the old Maya texts."
"Actually, it was Bishop Diego de Landa," Miranda said. "He burned more than forty Maya codices back in 1562 during his Inquisition. Only three of them escaped the flames, possibly four if you count the Grolier Codex."
"There you go. The books are gone."
"Those books are gone," Emily said. "But according to the etchings Hope copied from the tomb, the Library of the Mayas was hidden centuries before the Spanish arrived in the New World. More specifically, around 830 AD, the twilight of the Classic Maya civilization."
My heart pumped faster. "The library … it's not written on paper, is it?"
Emily shook her head. "We believe the Mayas wrote their knowledge on the gold plates Hope saw after his crash."
"He mentioned six hundred and seventy-six plates," Miranda added. "That's not a lot of books by today's standards, but it dwarves the amount of available Classic Maya material. Along with medical knowledge, the library will hopefully contain a first-hand account of the collapse."
"So, the books aren't in the sarcophagus." I glanced at the sealed-up tomb. "That means they're still down there."
Emily frowned. "That's not what I wanted to hear."
"Didn't you take pictures of the chamber?" Beverly asked Miranda.
Miranda nodded.
"You should look them over. Maybe you'll see the plates."
"Good idea." Miranda produced her camera. Quickly, she scanned through the photos.
"So, what kind of deal did you work out with the Mexican authorities?" I asked Emily. "They get the library and you get a cut of the profits?"
"Actually, they don't know about the library," she replied. "And they won't until I've got it under lock and key."
"You didn't tell them?"
"Please try to understand." She wiped a single bead of sweat from her brow. "I have a deep passion for history. However, this is a business venture first and foremost. Billions of dollars—along with potential cures for millions of people—are at stake. I can't expect the INAH to understand that."
I could see her quandary. Most archaeologists I knew lived in a bubble, largely divorced from the realities faced by businesspeople. They didn't spend their own money. They weren't required to show profits. And most importantly, their livelihoods didn't depend on progress.
Indeed, archaeologists hated progress. Progress meant newness. New roads, new buildings, new parking lots. Things that destroyed history. If anything, archaeologists were biased toward stagnation.
"Where do you plan on taking it?" I asked.
"To the United States. But I can assure you it will only be on a temporary basis. Once I'm done with it, I'll—"
"We found something," Pacho shouted.
Miranda swiveled toward him. "What is it?"
"It's a large gold plate, crimped on one side. It looks like a good fit for Hope's piece."
"Did you find any others?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Where is it?"
"Still in the sarcophagus. But Tum took a good picture of it." He handed Miranda a compact camera.
Miranda studied the image for a few seconds. "It's engraved," she said in a hushed voice. "The entire surface is covered with hieroglyphics."
"Yup. The Maneros are translating them as we speak." He pointed at the camera. "Increase the magnification on that section."
Miranda manipulated the controls. "Okay, I see two pictures etched onto the plate. One is a pyramid. The other looks like a pair of domes."
Emily arched an eyebrow. "Do you recognize the pyramid?"
"No. But these domes are curious. They're divided into little sections, all covered with tiny hieroglyphics." Miranda's face tightened. "I don't think Hope actually saw gold plates. He just saw this old drawing of them."
Emily visibly deflated.
"He must've thought there was something to the drawing," I said. "Otherwise, why would he want to come back here?"
"You're right," Miranda said slowly. "Hope didn't find the Library of the Mayas. But maybe he found proof of its existence."
Chapter 19
"I got your message." The disembodied voice echoed in Miranda's ear. "Needless to say, I'm impressed you were able to track down my number. You're more resourceful than I realized."
Sweat dripped down Miranda's face, wetting her lips. She licked them and tasted salty grit. More sweat beaded up on her forehead. Lifting a hand, she swiped it away. But it didn't help matters. Her pores produced perspiration faster than she could deal with it.
"Your offer intrigues me," the voice continued. "But how do I know I can trust you?"
The line clicked as the recording came to an end. Miranda turned off the satphone. She didn't like being so far from the dig site. But she couldn't very well listen to the message out in the open.
More beads of sweat appeared. They dripped into her eyes. Her hands started to tremble. Her gut tied itself in knots.
Silvery moonlight slipped through the treetops, illuminating large patches of ground. On one hand, it allowed her to keep an eye out for snakes and whatever other animals lived in the godforsaken jungle. It also gave her enough visibility that she didn't need to use her flashlight.
But the moonlight had a dark side. It saturated her path back to the dig site. There would be no way to avoid it, not completely.
A roar rang out. Startled, Miranda froze in place. Her sweat beaded up even faster until it felt like a waterfall was pouring down her visage. She knew the roar belonged to a howler monkey. But it sounded like a giant dinosaur was loose in the Lacandon Jungle.
She took a hesitant step. Then another one. Ever so slowly, she made her way back to the dig site.
She breathed a little easier as the clearing, bathed in moonlight, came into view. Then a branch snapped under her right foot. Yohl Ik’nal barked. Alonzo howled at the moon. Heads swiveled in her direction and her nerves ran wild. She didn't want to move, lest she make another sound. But she couldn't afford to be spotted.
She dodged behind a tall tree and pressed her back against the dry bark. She waited for the dogs to quiet down. Then she snuck a peek into the clearing. She was relived to see the others were still gathered around the sarcophagus.
She dialed a number. The satphone rang a few times. Then the line clicked and went straight to voicemail. "Thank you for returning my call. I don't know how to win
your trust, but my offer is real." Sweat beaded up on her face all over again. "It's time we joined forces, Votan."
Chapter 20
"What do you mean?" Emily's voice lifted a few decibels. "Surely, it says something about the library."
"I'm getting to that. The plate appears to summarize the creation and purpose of the Library of the Mayas. It was intended to act as a sort of ancient monument. Here's what we've deciphered so far." Dora Manero flipped through her notepad. "This is the new beginning, the end of the old traditions of that place called City X. Here we—"
"Wait a second. Did you say City X?"
"It's just a placeholder name. Unfortunately, the original name has been completely obliterated from the plate."
"I see." Emily clucked impatiently. "Look, forget the word-for-word translation. Just give me the gist of it."
"The tomb was built to honor two individuals, Xbalanque and Hunahpu. Xbalanque, as we know, was a scribe. Hunahpu appears to have been a renowned architect from Palenque."
"Go on."
"Apparently, Hunahpu was given a special honor by a divine ajaw, or king, named Pakal. Pakal tasked him with building a magnificent library. Xbalanque was hired to write the actual books, which would contain the accumulated knowledge and history of the Maya people. He etched those books on individual gold plates. Based on the dates given as well as our understanding of the Maya Long Count Calendar, we believe the library took eighteen years to complete. Over two dozen workers died in the process."
"Why wasn't it built in Palenque?" I asked.
"It was intended to serve as a retreat for scholars, priests, and other elite members of Maya society."
"Does the plate provide a location for the library?" Emily asked.
"Not that we noticed." Dora shrugged. "Of course, we've only translated a small portion of it."
Emily lifted her gaze. "Where have you been?"
Miranda held up her camera as she walked to our group. "I was looking over my photos."
"Are you aware of any buildings around here that might have been used as a library?"
Miranda shook her head.
"So, maybe it's still missing. That would explain why none of the books ever came to light." Emily paced back and forth. "Did you see anything in your photos that could tell us where to find it?"
