by Alan Baxter
Katherine nodded. ‘They consider it very powerful, don’t they?’
‘Yes, although there are dozens of different powers that various members claim that it has, and at least as many sources of power. You’re both familiar with a number of various theories, no doubt.’ He crouched, lifted the sacking. ‘There it is.’
The removed sacking revealed a small alcove around two feet square, equally deep. Sat on a carved stone in the centre of the alcove was the crystal skull. Katherine remembered the sight clearly from the photocopies that Jesus had smuggled out to her, but she had not been prepared for the beauty. The blurred pictures she had seen did no justice to the quality of the detail.
Sanchez lifted the oil lamp, moving it around in front of the alcove, making light refract around the skull, glinting off different angles. ‘Absolutely remarkable, isn’t it,’ he said, his voice quiet. He stared lovingly at the artefact as he moved the light around it. ‘Carved by unknown means from one single block of absolutely pure quartz crystal. It is completely flawless, so far as we have been able to tell.’
Thomas stepped nearer, his camera hanging forgotten from its strap. ‘What a truly beautiful thing,’ he whispered, bending for a closer look.
Katherine came and crouched beside Sanchez, unable to take her eyes from it. Her logical mind was reeling, stunned by the intense feeling of energy that seemed to emanate from the skull. The air seemed heavier now that it was revealed, quieter. She felt a sense of peace around her. Each of them wore a slight smile, their expressions pure contentment as they stared in wonder. Not taking her eyes from it, Katherine whispered, ‘I remember what you said earlier, but please, may I touch it?’
‘Certainly, but don’t pick it up.’
Katherine slowly reached into the alcove, her fingers trembling. She gently laid her palm on the smooth, curved surface of the skull. The moment she came into contact with it there was a rushing sound in her ears, like a hundred thousand people flying past her at a furious speed, all talking at once. She whipped her hand away, her eyes wild. ‘Did you hear that?’
Thomas leaned closer. ‘Hear what, my dear?’
Katherine looked from Thomas to Sanchez, who only smiled. ‘You didn’t hear anything?’
Drake laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘I heard nothing.’
Katherine shook herself, drawing her hand away. ‘I must be hearing things,’ she said, staring into the eyes of the skull.
Sanchez let the sacking go. As it fell back over the alcove, blocking the skull from view, the air seemed to lighten. Katherine felt as though she had just been shaken awake. ‘What a remarkable thing.’
Sanchez nodded. ‘We have to keep it covered this way, or the men refuse to work down here.’
‘I think I understand why. Maybe we should get back outside.’
As they climbed the stairs leading back up to the corridor Thomas stopped, looked back over his shoulder. ‘I say, I forgot to take a photograph!’
Sanchez laughed. ‘Never mind, Senor Drake. We’ll take another look another time.’
Katherine patted his shoulder. ‘Thomas, why don’t you take photographs in those two side chambers while Senor Sanchez and I find somewhere quiet for an interview?’
‘Certainly. I’ll get some more shots around the site too. I’ll see you both a little later for lunch?’
‘Sure.’
Thomas turned into one of the side chambers they had passed on their way in. Katherine and Sanchez walked back out into the hot, bright day. Flies immediately flocked around Katherine’s face as she emerged.
‘Damn these flies! Do they lay in wait for people?’
Sanchez laughed. ‘Everybody says, “Oh, you’ll get used to them”, but I’m not sure that everybody does. They’re a constant annoyance. Please, come to my hut. Inside the huts is the only place one can find a little refuge. Or the pyramid, of course.’
Sanchez’ hut was as simple as all the others, containing only a side table with an oil lamp and a suitcase. There were maps and papers spread out all over the small table. The bed was the usual wooden cot. Sanchez sat on the edge of the bed, motioning for Katherine to sit beside him. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have an office to receive you in!’
‘Not at all.’ She took out her dictaphone again, switched it on. Laying it on the bed between them she said, ‘So, okay if I ask you some questions?’
Sanchez sat back, resting his hands in his lap. ‘Fire away.’
Katherine was seeing more and more of that passion that Father Paleros had mentioned. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘let’s start with the basics. How long have you been involved in archaeological research in Central America?’
Sanchez looked up to the ceiling. ‘Oh, about thirty years now. I worked on a number of sites in my youth, before I came to America. I got a job in the Museum of Anthropology and became a jack of all trades, advising and consulting, before I was eventually put in charge of the Central American exhibits. It’s given me a lot of opportunity to follow my own endeavours.’
‘This endeavour is actually financed by yourself, rather than funded by the museum, yes?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So how did you get involved? And why doesn’t the museum have a stake in it?’
Sanchez smiled. ‘The museum will certainly benefit from many of the finds, but it’s my operation simply because it started out very small time. The way I came across this whole site is really rather unusual.’
‘Would you care to explain?’
Sanchez sat back further on the cot, leaning against the wall. He looked off into nowhere as he spoke. ‘About a year ago I visited Britain. In the British Museum is a crystal skull, which I found myself fascinated by. I’d obviously heard plenty about them before, I knew of their existence and a number of the legends associated with them, but this was the first one I’d ever seen. As I stood staring at it, a man came and stood beside me. He told me of another skull in a museum in Paris, France. I managed to reorganise my trip and I went to see this skull too. A gentleman in Paris, an Englishman, approached me in the museum. We began talking and he was fascinated that I was an archaeologist from Central America and we ended up talking for some hours about the skulls and various aspects of archaeology. Eventually he told me about a map he had in his possession that was apparently centuries old. Now, it all sounded like an old movie to me at first, ancient treasure maps and so on, but I agreed to visit him at his house.
‘The next day I went to the address he had given me. It was a beautiful house on the outskirts of Paris. The gentleman met me at the door and led me through to his garden, where we sat on his patio drinking tea. After a time, he showed me the map he had mentioned. I can show it to you later. The map showed an area of Guatemala that I didn’t initially recognise, but it had marked on it a number of old villages and sacred sites. It also had this site marked on it. He was an elderly man and almost begged me to investigate this site. I said that I would be happy to try to arrange a team for him, but he said that I was not to be fooled by his surroundings. He was a poor man, with his house as his only possession, which he simply refused to sell. It was a beautiful house.
‘Anyway, he insisted that I take the map and search the area. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and refused to have any further part in it. He wanted no money or recognition. He said simply that I must come and tell him all about it when I had found the treasure.’ Sanchez grinned a little impishly. ‘Am I boring you, Miss Bailey? I do rather enjoy the opportunity to tell a story.’
‘Of course not, this is fascinating. Go on.’
‘Well, I wasn’t entirely convinced that this old man wasn’t simply mad, but the map did seem genuine. I promised him I would let him know all that happened, and I returned to America a day or two later. At the museum we verified the map’s authenticity and it was carbon dated to an age of over two hundred years. The museum didn’t have the resources to finance any further investigation, but I felt drawn to it, so I began investigating the location
at my own expense. I contacted people nearby that I knew and they talked to elders of various groups trying to find someone that would recognise any of the old names on the map and, by a process of elimination, we slowly homed in on this spot. I sent a team out to begin exploring, looking for signs of a settlement of any kind, and the rest, as they say, is history.’
Katherine was a little lost for words. It all seemed a little too haphazard an explanation to her, but sometimes things really did unfold in strange, and surprising ways. ‘So you’re still in contact with the Englishman in Paris that gave you the map?’
‘Yes, I’ve been keeping him informed of every new discovery. He’s desperate to come out to the site to see for himself, but his health won’t allow it unfortunately.’
‘What’s his name?’
Sanchez made an apologetic face. ‘I’m afraid one of his conditions was to remain anonymous. I’m the only one who knows his name and his location. He was really rather insistent on that point.’
‘I see.’ It seemed to fit really.
Mysterious Englishmen in France and ancient treasure maps. This was going to be an interesting story. She couldn’t wait to tell Thomas the tale.
12
Hours passed, the cool interior of the church slowly dropping into pitch darkness as the light faded from the day. Samuel had been silent the whole time, his mind a turmoil of thoughts, questions. He was reluctant to ask more questions, however, based on the lecture he got last time. He was confused enough already. Maybe another day.
He glanced sidelong at Isiah, like a statue on the pew next to him. Sam had been shuffling about while they waited, leaning forward, sitting back, taking a walk up and down the aisle, but not Isiah. He hadn’t moved a single muscle since he stopped talking hours ago. Was he even breathing? Samuel turned around slightly, looking more closely. Isiah’s eyes were open, but he didn’t blink. His chest rose and fell ever so slightly, about once every ten or fifteen seconds. He looked as though he were trapped in slow motion. What kind of man was this? Was he even a man? Perhaps he was a god, although by his own explanation he would only exist if Samuel believed in him, and Samuel was not aware of believing in any other gods. Especially one as weird as this. Even his skin had a slightly strange sheen to it. It was virtually total darkness, but Samuel’s eyes had adjusted enough to still see. By this tiny amount of light Isiah’s face seemed to be carved from stone, not like normal skin.
‘What?’
Samuel physically jumped as Isiah’s voice shattered his silent contemplation. Immediately he was embarrassed and annoyed. ‘Shit, man, you scared me!’
Isiah smiled as he turned to face Sam. ‘A little jumpy?’
Samuel sat back hard on the pew, rocking it slightly. ‘All right, man. What the fuck are you? How about that for my next question?’
Isiah’s smile deepened. So we begin again. ‘What am I?’
‘Yeah. You know all these secrets about how the universe works, about all us little people, and here you are helping me. Why?’
Isiah stared hard at Samuel. ‘Let’s just say that I have to.’
Samuel shook his head. ‘No, let’s not. I’m a nasty son of a bitch, I cheat people, I kill people, I don’t give a fuck about anybody but myself, and you know all that beyond a doubt, yet you’re helping me stay alive. More than that, you’re helping me to become even more powerful. Why?’
Isiah turned back to stare at the altar. Taking out his small leather pouch, he began rolling a cigarette as he spoke. ‘Remember I told you that there had to be a balance? That there couldn’t be just one god, but there could be none.’
Samuel nodded, looking at the pouch. ‘Can I have one of those? I can’t believe after all this time you didn’t let on you had a smoke.’
Isiah handed Samuel his tobacco and papers. ‘Well, that balance has to be maintained at whatever cost. Sometimes that cost is high.’ He put his cigarette between his lips and the end glowed hot, aromatic blue smoke curling up towards the high, raftered ceiling.
Samuel watched with one eyebrow raised. ‘Er, got a light?’ he asked, handing back Isiah’s tobacco pouch. Before he realised it had happened, his cigarette was alight, its smoke mingling with Isiah’s, turning in a slow, twisting dance into the darkness. He watched it for a second before taking a long drag. He immediately began coughing violently, the smoke burning his lungs, his eyes watering. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he wheezed between coughs. ‘What kind of tobacco is this?’
‘Nothing special. But that’s your first ever cigarette.’
Samuel looked from Isiah to the cigarette then back again. ‘This body didn’t smoke before I moved in then?’
‘No. He was an athlete. Probably never touched a cigarette in his life.’
Samuel looked at the curling smoke for a second. ‘Well, we’ll soon sort that out.’ He sat back, took a slower, shorter drag. ‘Never thought I’d get to feel this kind of buzz again. The ultimate first smoke of the day. So, in this case, the cost of maintaining that balance is a little higher than you’d like?’
‘Yeah, kind of.’
‘You’d rather see me dead?’
‘I’d rather see you being slowly eaten by Lucifer’s worms, but we can’t always have what we want.’
Samuel chuckled. ‘Oh, well. At least knowing that you don’t like what you’re doing makes it seem a little less unbelievable. A little less suspicious. Greater forces at work on both of us, huh?’
‘Something like that.’ At least there would be some justice to all of this. Whether he was successful or not, Samuel would end up back in Satan’s hands. Samuel wasn’t to know that, but it gave Isiah a little solace.
Samuel breathed out a plume of smoke, watched it twist away for a second, then, ‘So that magic just then, lighting the cigarette, what was that?’
‘What do you mean, what was that?’
‘What kind of magic?’
‘I told you before that the energy of the universe is there and that it can be manipulated. There are various rituals people use to enhance their beliefs to make their magic work, but all they’re doing is manipulating that energy. I just do it at source. It’s not magic, Samuel, it’s simply existence. Everybody has it at their disposal, but most don’t have the knowledge or belief to make use of it. Or the time for that matter.’
Samuel nodded. ‘Living for centuries must be a bonus when it comes to practising your ‘energy manipulation’, I guess.’
‘Yeah, but anyone can do it easily in their own lifetime. I’ve just had plenty of time to fine tune it.’
‘So I could light a cigarette like you just did?’
Isiah turned to face Samuel, his face impatient. ‘Of course! Anyone can. You already know that you can use magic, Samuel. It’s just unfortunate that you’re caught up with the blood letting. You already have far more natural ability than most.’
‘Why is that?’
Isiah shrugged. ‘Any number of reasons. Most people are too absorbed in the mundanity of their lives to even consider stuff like this. That’s the trouble with the modern world. So many people with so little time and money, and so little space in which to live. People don’t have the time or the inclination any more to relax and study.’
‘Study?’
‘Yeah. Study being human, try to broaden their consciousness. Most people only study ways to move faster through the rat race. Mundane bullshit.’
‘Okay. So I want to light that candle on the altar over there without shedding any blood. Mind you, for the record, I wouldn’t know how to do it if I did shed blood.’
Isiah smiled. ‘So unbalanced, aren’t you, Samuel. You personify a lack of balance. Hardly the model citizen. And you want me to teach you how to make fire at will?’
Samuel let out a sigh, dropping his cigarette to the floor, grinding it out with his heel. He didn’t notice it vanish at Isiah’s glance. ‘Man, I have to do something. We’ve got hours to kill yet. Don’t you think it would be good for me to do something a little constructive
?’
Isiah raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t see how teaching you to make fire is constructive.’
Samuel looked impatiently around himself. ‘Alright, I promise not to use it without asking first.’ His voice dripped sarcasm.
‘Alright. I guess it won’t make any difference in the long run.’
Isiah dropped his cigarette, mentally tidying it away before it hit the ground. ‘Okay. It’s really very simple. At least in theory. You remember I told you that everything in the entire universe is simply particles bound together with energy?’ Samuel nodded. ‘And your consciousness is simply a fraction of the whole consciousness of the universe?’ Samuel nodded again. ‘Okay. Well, you can use your mind to manipulate the energy of the universe at a molecular level. You can move particles around, draw them together, spread them apart. There are two types of manipulation, the physical and the mental. Manipulating people, their thoughts, emotions, that’s hard work. That takes a lot of practice and understanding. Manipulating the physical world, shaping matter, is a lot less complicated. If you want to make fire you simply have to recreate the physical phenomenon of fire.’
Samuel raised his hands, palms up. ‘Oh, it’s that easy! Why hadn’t I grasped it before!’
‘It’s really not that complicated. If you want to make fire, you have to agitate the molecules of something enough that they release enough energy to ignite. Concentrate hard on the candle wick, cast your mind into it so that nothing else exists. Picture the very molecules that it’s made of and force them to move faster, bounce off each other harder and harder, use your will to create the energy required to ignite the wick.’
Samuel stared at the candle some twenty feet away for a few seconds. ‘You make it sound easy.’
‘It is.’
‘No, man, it isn’t.’
Isiah smiled. ‘Belief, Samuel. Have faith in your abilities. The only reason your other magic works is because you believe it will. You know, you could have banished Satan without killing the priest, but you don’t believe it.’
