‘Why?’ Calque raised an eyebrow. ‘Because it dwarfs the other two volcanoes, that’s why. Orizaba is over 5,600 metres high – that’s nearly 18,500 feet to you Yankees. That makes it seven hundred feet higher than its nearest rival. And it looks like a volcano, man. It sits there, just like Mount Fuji, looking exactly like a great volcano should – I mean with a caldera, and snow on its peak, and a sneer on its face. Except that it’s more than 6,000 feet higher than Mount Fuji, and it’s a stratovolcano, just like Mount Mahon, Mount Vesuvius, and Stromboli. And it knocks your two Saudi Arabian volcanoes into a cocked hat.’
‘All right, Calque. I’m impressed. You’ve earned your kewpie doll.’
‘My what?’
‘Forget it. It was just a turn of phrase. But you got one detail wrong, Calque. Mount Fuji’s a stratovolcano too.’ Sabir became aware that Lamia was glaring at him, as if the grilling he was undergoing constituted some sort of indefinable test. He instantly regretted the stratovolcano jibe. He’d been trying to score cheap points off Calque in an effort to cover up his embarrassment at being so spectacularly wrong-footed. And now Lamia knew about his insecurities as well. Well, there was nothing like a critical female audience to cement a man’s public humiliation. ‘What about Inchal and Kabah, then? What of them?’
Lamia stood up. ‘Give me five minutes.’ She walked across to the desk.
Sabir raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s that all about?’
Calque shrugged. ‘Search me.’ He mashed his latest unsmoked cigarette onto the tabletop in front of him and reached for another.
14
Lamia sat down beside the men. During her absence, Sabir had ordered coffee, and now she busied herself ‘being mother’, an elusive smile hovering about her face.
‘Well who’s going to be the first to ask, then?’ Sabir was still feeling slightly sick that he might, at this very moment, have been jetting off towards Saudi Arabia, if Calque and Lamia hadn’t happened by.
There was silence. Calque and Lamia sipped their coffee.
‘Okay. I’ll admit it. I ballsed-up. I was on the total wrong track. But I still don’t get the “Inchal” bit. Or why “Kabah” doesn’t apply to the Kaaba.’
Lamia glanced up. ‘I’ve just been using the hotel’s internet connection. I typed in “Kabah”. With an h. Just as you tell us it’s written in Nostradamus’s prophecy. Number two on the list of Google hits, after the Kaaba, takes you straight to Kabah, a Maya site down in the Yucatan. Kabah means “strong hand”, or, in its original form, Kabahaucan, a “royal snake in the hand”. The place is famous for the Codz Poop – the Palace of the Masks – in which hundreds of stone masks dedicated to the long-nosed rain god, Chaac, stretch along a massive stone facade. Chaac, if you don’t know it, is also the god of thunder, lightning, and rain, and he is considered capable of causing volcanic eruptions with his lightning axe.’
‘Jesus.’ Sabir had always known he possessed a single-track mind. But his recent inability to think laterally constituted something of a record, even for him.
‘The word “Inchal” was harder. At first, I only came up with a place in India, with no link at all to the Maya. In the end I decided to play around with it a little, and came up with “Chilan”.’
‘And what the heck is a Chilan when it’s at home?’
‘It’s a Maya priest. The word actually means an “interpreter”, a “mouthpiece”, or a “soothsayer”. The Chilans were responsible for teaching the sciences, appointing holy days, treating the sick, offering sacrifices, and acting as the oracles of the gods.’
‘Holy shit.’
‘And Chilans traditionally wore the “Ahau”, which is the Maya sun belt. The word also means “Lord” in Maya. So Nostradamus’s phrase “Ahau Inchal Kabah”, and his insistence that this person, blessed with the ultimate gift of prophecy, lives in the land of the “Great Volcano”, is so far from implying a place in Saudi Arabia, that it almost beggars belief how you could ever have allowed yourself to be so disastrously sidetracked, Mr Sabir.’
Sabir leaned forward and placed his head in his hands.
Calque squirmed deliriously in his seat. ‘Don’t tell me, Sabir. You haven’t been sleeping recently. Your brain is not functioning to quite its usual standard.’ The ex-policeman was enjoying himself. He was behaving as if he had somehow magicked Lamia out of his jacket pocket and presented her, in triumph, to a wildly applauding gallery.
‘Don’t rub it in, Calque. You’re beginning to sound like Svengali.’
Calque glanced towards Lamia. ‘What do you think? Shall we let him travel with us? Or shall we go it alone? We have all the material we need.’
‘Oh really?’ Sabir sat up straighter. ‘You’ve got everything you need?’
Calque hesitated for a moment. ‘Yes. I think we have.’
Lamia rolled her eyes.
‘You’ve got the full text of Nostradamus’s quatrain, have you? Including the key indicator of where to look for this man once you get to Kabah?’
Calque fiddled with his unlit cigarette.
‘Well you don’t need me any more, then, do you?’ Sabir stood up. ‘But if you should happen to change your minds, you can probably catch me any time within the next half hour. My house. A silver Grand Cherokee. After that I’m gone. Out of here. Capeesh, wiseasses?’
15
Sabir didn’t pull off his ‘leaving in a snit’ stunt. He was dealing, after all, with two companions to whom – due to either familial or professional habit – compromise was a sine qua non.
Whilst he refused point blank to cough up the key part of the quatrain that referred to the actual whereabouts of Nostradamus’s Ahau Inchal Kabah, he did agree that the three of them might, at the very least, pool their resources and travel together. It had become blindingly clear to him, over the past few hours, that three minds were a heck of a lot better than one.
‘I vote we fly down to Cancun, and then hire a car from there. That way we can be there in less than a day.’
Lamia and Calque exchanged glances.
‘What is it? What am I missing this time?’
‘You’re missing my twin brothers.’ Lamia glanced across at Calque.
Calque nodded his head in agreement. ‘Airports are our worst bet. They’re too easy to monitor. Flight plans and passenger lists are easily obtainable, if one has either the money or the connections. And Lamia’s brothers have both. Plus these days most hire cars come with either satellite navigation systems or inbuilt trackers. Meaning that they can be followed, and their exact whereabouts pinpointed. Hire companies do it to protect their investments.’
‘So what are you saying?’
‘That we ought to go in your car. And that we ought to drive down.’
‘Drive down? Jesus. Do you know how long that would take? It’s better than three thousand miles. And I’m probably underestimating.’
‘Are we in any hurry? Is there a deadline for this thing?’
Sabir shrugged. ‘No. I suppose not.’
‘And we will be three. To share the driving.’
Sabir nodded. ‘There is that. But it sticks in my craw to base our plans on the probable antics of a couple of high-class hoodlums. Sorry, Lamia. But you know what I’m getting at, don’t you?’
Calque intervened before Lamia had time to answer. ‘Ever since I’ve known you, Sabir, you’ve manifested one fatal, but nevertheless entirely consistent, flaw. You’ve always underestimated your opponents. It’s almost a sickness with you.’ Sabir tried to break in, but Calque overrode him. ‘I don’t know anything about these boys beyond what Lamia has told me, but that’s enough to give me pause. They are Achor Bale’s brothers, in the name of God. They come from the same nursery. They’ve suckled at the same diabolical teat.’ Calque was getting into his stride. ‘Unlike Lamia, they have never had doubts about their vocation. They know what they want, and they are prepared to do whatever it takes to get it. I spoke to the Countess two days ago. I was in her presence, Sabir.
She is without doubt the most terrifying human being it has ever been my misfortune to meet. She’s worse than any politician, in that she knows she’s right – she doesn’t just act out the role, she is the role. You killed her son, man. You alone have the information that she and the Corpus Maleficus seek. Take my word for it – the Countess is going to allow nothing, Sabir, but nothing, to get between her people and you.’
16
‘Madame Mastigou has arranged the flight plans, Abiger. Your brothers and sisters will be arriving at New York’s JFK airport in eight hours’ time. They will each have a rental car at their individual disposal. You will keep in touch by cell phone. I will suggest to the others that they buy pay-as-you-go, to avoid any public record of their calls. They can contact you from the airport and you can exchange numbers. Then you and Vau must dump your old phones and buy new ones too.’
‘What if our trio head north?’
‘Then you will head north after them, and your brothers and sisters can catch up with you later.’
‘You’re assuming they are going to travel by car.’
‘No I’m not. But if they’re taking a plane, they won’t leave from a local airport. Calque’s no fool. He knows that airports have gaping holes in them in terms of security. Sabir will try to shake you first. Then he’ll aim for a hub airport with a lot of traffic. Somewhere like O’Hare, Baltimore, or Boston. Trusting that he can lose himself in the crowd.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better for us just to take them all here? Ambush them nearby? I can’t see Sabir carrying his shotgun with him in the vehicle. Too risky. We could bundle them off to a deserted barn somewhere and sweat them for the information we need.’
‘No. Sabir’s been forewarned, thanks to your and Vau’s mistake. He’ll have covered his tracks already. Destroyed all written documentation. The man has a memory like an elephant, or so I understand from certain sources in America that I’ve paid for information about him.’
‘Ah. I see.’ His mother had wrong-footed him again. Abiger could feel the resentment eating away at his guts.
‘In addition, I think it extremely unlikely that he will have told Lamia and Calque any more than he feels they need to know. So he’s still our primary link to the whereabouts of the Second Coming. And to the possible identity of the Third Antichrist. The man carries it all about with him in his head. If he’s backed into a corner he’s perfectly capable of sacrificing himself for some perceived greater good – he’s just that sort of bleeding heart. Remember what he did to my darling Rocha? The man’s morbidly claustrophobic, but still he managed to figure out a way to get back at Rocha and kill him. He looks soft, but he has a core of steel. No, I’d rather he leads us inadvertently to wherever he is going. It’s better like that.’
‘If you say so, Madame.’
‘I say so, Abiger.’
17
‘Are they still behind us?’
‘They’re still behind us. And making no attempt whatsoever to hide themselves.’
The trio had just passed through Scranton, and were now on the thruway towards Harrisburg, heading south.
‘What if we head towards Miami, and not towards Texas, as we decided? There must be a ferry of some sort from Florida to Campeche? Or to Veracruz? Or even to Cancun?’ Calque was feeling irritable. He had come to a grudging understanding with Lamia and Sabir that every hour, on the hour, he could crack open a widow and smoke a cigarette. But he needed more than one cigarette an hour to feel like a human being. He glanced surreptitiously at his watch to see if his hour was up. ‘It would save us three days’ driving.’
‘And it would set us up as sitting targets. While we move, we’re safe.’ Sabir glanced over his shoulder. ‘Smoke your damned cigarette, Calque. You may not realize it, but you’re kicking the back of my seat about eighty times a minute.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Calque speared the window button with his finger. ‘I do get nervous when I’m thinking things through.’ He lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘And I’m thinking things through now.’ He allowed the cigarette smoke to trickle luxuriously through his nostrils. ‘So what are we going to do tonight?’
Sabir turned to Lamia. ‘You tell me your brothers won’t give up without a fight?’
‘That’s an understatement.’
‘Then what do you think they are waiting for? Why are they holding back?’
‘Just as you said. While we’re moving, we’re safe. But the minute we stop, we’re vulnerable. And we’re particularly vulnerable at night. I assume you don’t intend to sleep in the car?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Then it seems we have only one choice.’
‘And what is that?’
‘We have to lose them before we bed down for the night.’
Sabir snorted.
‘It’s three in the afternoon. By nine o’clock this evening we’ll be well beyond Harrisburg. If we don’t intend to drive all night, we’ll have to come up with a plan before that.’
‘Great. Any ideas anyone?’
Calque had finished his cigarette. He threw the used butt out of the window. His face wore a placid expression, as if he had just taken a hit of raw opium, and not a toke or two of flue-cured Virginia tobacco. ‘I have a plan.’
Sabir glanced in the rear-view mirror. The twins’ car was keeping station a steady third of a mile behind them. ‘Okay. Give.’
‘Ah. Your elegant American expressions. How poorly they translate into French.’
Sabir understood what Calque meant. Translate most American expressions into French and they sounded abrupt – lacking in politeness. French was a language in which requests, and even orders, were customarily couched in velvet. Sabir decided to wind Calque up a bit. ‘Esteemed Captain Calque. Mademoiselle Lamia and I would very much appreciate hearing your proposal to rid us of the unwanted attentions of Mademoiselle Lamia’s mortiferous twin brothers. In addition, any light that you may be able to shed on their possible future plans would be very welcome indeed. Suffice it to say…’
‘Sabir?’
‘Yes?’
‘Shut up.’
There was an amused silence in the car while Calque gathered his wits about him. ‘All right. I have my plan. I am ready to give it to you.’
‘Excellent. What is it?’
‘It involves taking three separate motel rooms. One for you. One for me. And one for Lamia.’
‘And to heck with budgetary constraints?’
‘Sabir, you are not endearing yourself to me by this levity.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘We take three motel rooms. We enter them, leaving the car out front. But not for long. Soon I exit from my room and get into the car. I drive off. Now, because I am not important to them, the twins will continue watching the two remaining motel rooms. Sabir must then go and knock on Lamia’s door. She must let him in. Her brothers will draw the obvious conclusions. Am I correct?’
‘No. You are not correct.’ Lamia was curled up on the front seat, her stockinged feet tucked beneath her. ‘My brothers are fully aware that my love life is close to non-existent. They tease me endlessly about it, in that endearing way they have. The idea of my having an affair with Monsieur Sabir within a day of meeting him would strike them as so preposterous that they would probably come barging straight in simply out of curiosity.’
‘Oh.’ Calque seemed just a little nonplussed, as if one of his fondest illusions had just been shattered. ‘You really have no love life to speak of? That is outrageous for such a beautiful woman as yourself. I cannot understand it. The men you encounter must be blind.’
Lamia reached behind herself and felt for his hand. Calque brought her fingers lightly to his lips.
‘So what were you imagining for after Lamia came to my room? Beyond the fake sex, that is?’
‘I was going to suggest that you both exit via a back window, leaving the lights still on and the door locked. With a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door handle. Then you
both make your way to a pre-arranged rendezvous – a certain number of streets down, say – where I pick you up. Leaving the twins watching a series of empty motel rooms. We drive on for another hundred miles – on minor roads, of course – and only then do we stop for the night.’
Sabir looked at Lamia. ‘Apart from the sex idea, it isn’t bad. I like the bit about Calque taking off in the car, leaving both of us back at the motel. That makes sense. Why don’t we both just climb out of our rooms independently, and forget Calque’s Gallic notions of romance?’
‘We’ll have to find an old-school motel with through rooms.’
Sabir glanced across at Lamia. ‘What do you mean, “through rooms”?’
‘Rooms with back windows. Most modern motels aren’t built like that any more. And they have central parking, anyway. We need an old-style motel, where you park right outside your room.’
Calque leaned forwards. ‘We could do a tour around before we register? Check the layout of the grounds? That’s not so strange, is it? No one would guess what we were looking for.’
‘You know, I think it’s worth a try.’ Sabir glanced at Lamia. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think Captain Calque is what they used to call “a born gentleman”.’
18
Abiger de Bale glanced at his watch. ‘It’s getting late. How far are the others away?’
Vaulderie consulted his cell phone. ‘I have text messages from Athame, Berith, and Oni, saying they are heading in our direction. Our paths should cross within the next hour. The six others can’t be far behind.’
‘Good. Three is ample.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Because Sabir is going to try to slip the net before nightfall.’
‘How do you work that one out, Abi?’
Abi shrugged. ‘I should have thought it was obvious. Put yourself in their position. They can’t reasonably bed down in security knowing that we are outside watching them. They will fear that we will damage their car. Or set a tracker on it. Maybe even break in on them. That’s their weak spot.’
The Mayan Codex as-2 Page 15
