Ignoring her comment, he pulled on his shorts, t-shirt and shoes. “Anything happening out there?”
“Nothing. I’m beat; I’m going to hit the sack.”
She undressed outside her tent. When he saw what she was doing he turned away but then he looked back, watching her take off everything she wore, admiring that perfect body. She turned suddenly, smiled at him and crawled into her tent. He was ashamed for looking but once again he’d become aroused watching her.
Next morning the work began early in an attempt to beat the afternoon heat. The opening was wide enough for only one man to use a machete, so two hacked through brush all along the bottom of the stairway while the third moved up.
Shortly the worker from the top came down and spoke with Alfredo, who told the others, “We have a problem. He has reached the top of the stairs. If the measurements in the Alvarado letter are correct, it’s far too short.”
Within minutes the other worker reached the end of the stairway horizontally. It was time to measure.
Alfredo ran a tape up while Brian held the other end. Finally he called out, “I’m at the top.”
“Fifty-one feet.”
Back on the ground, Alfredo took the tape and they measured lengthwise. “Twelve feet,” Brian said.
Lynne was disappointed. “Shit. This isn’t the right stairway.”
Brian was more positive. “The fact that there’s a stairway at all is a plus. We’re clearly in a city. There may be something else at the top of the stairway. Or this may be the right one, just smaller than the Spanish Governor said. After all, he wrote that letter years after he was actually here. Maybe he didn’t remember – or maybe he exaggerated so the King would be impressed.”
“You’re right. We need to do more work here. We need to see what’s at the top of the stairway. Let’s see if we can find a narrow portal of some type then a plaza with a building in it. I guess we need to think positively. Right, Mr. Sadler?” She smiled.
“Right, Miss Parker.” Surprising even himself, he smiled back.
Sam looked at Brian and raised his eyebrows. “If you two are finished, can we get focused again?”
Fifty feet above the trail at the top of the staircase, there was less foliage so the workers could clear faster. By noon they had cleared what they could now see was a flat surface.
Everyone clambered to the top and saw tall mountains soaring a thousand feet or more everywhere they turned. It was an awe-inspiring sight. The temperature and humidity this high above the jungle floor were noticeably lower too.
Sam asked, “Do you see any evidence of a building or ruins?”
Lynne shook her head. “I’m planning to spend the afternoon up here. I didn’t see anything yet but I want to walk every inch of this platform. Keep your fingers crossed.”
They went down for lunch then everyone climbed back up the narrow passageway. Alfredo and the workers finished clearing brush and low scrub while Brian, Lynne and Sam combed the almost-flat area the men had cleared.
Shortly Alfredo called out, “Come over here, guys.” The men had found a second set of steps leading back down.
Lynne was thrilled. “This pretty well cinches it. We’re on top of a temple, I think. Let’s measure the distance between our two stairways then keep clearing the underbrush. I think this expanse of flat ground we’re standing on is the top of a four-sided temple. If I’m right, there will be a stairway on each side.”
A half-hour of final clearing proved her right. They were standing on a pyramid, the top of which was a twelve-by-twelve foot square.
“Each side is exactly five varas,” Lynne calculated. “That’s exactly what we’d expect from Mayan builders. It doesn’t match at all the description in the letter Jack Borland had, but regardless it’s absolutely incredible. This is an undiscovered temple in a forgotten city. In the middle of this platform there’ll be an altar or a round stone – maybe even the foundation of another building. The Maya always put something on top of their temples.”
The men removed all the growth, their machetes making ringing sounds as they struck stone.
“Mira aqui!” one yelled at last. Look here.
There was a rectangular piece of stone that rested six inches above the surface. It was roughly two feet long and four feet wide. They brushed away dirt with their hands and saw faint carvings.
“My God, this is beautiful,” Lynne said as she moved her index finger slowly over the grooves.
Brian asked what she thought it was.
“It’s Mayan for sure – probably a stela. It’s completely consistent with carvings I’ve seen at Tikal, which isn’t that far from here. We’re definitely standing on top of a Mayan temple. The carvings probably represent a god – I’d have to spend some time on these before I could tell for sure – but that would be my guess. We’re probably the first people to see this in a thousand years.”
She pulled out a camera and took dozens of pictures then she marked the GPS coordinates with her phone.
She told Brian, “If we’re actually in a Mayan city I couldn’t have asked for more. With the jungle covering everything so completely it’s impossible to know how big this place is. We could be in the middle of a temple complex that has dozens of buildings. I hope we can find the building that Cortes found – the one Jack Borland was looking for – but for me, if we found nothing else this one structure is worth it all.
“There’s something that’s been bothering me but I think I understand it now. The stairway in the letter is different. It’s not on the side of a temple like the ones here. It’s a real set of stairs that leads to something – a passage in a cliff, maybe. But we won’t know exactly what it all means unless we find it. Even though the Mayans built some huge cities, most of their settlements were only a square mile or two in size. I think the stairway mentioned in the letter is in this area. We already know they built a building right here and I figure the rest can’t be far away. If this is a lost city, this is huge.”
Chapter Fifteen
Alone in her office, Nicole thought about what she’d been through. She was fortunate to have a boss whose personal involvement in her welfare had brought her safely home. Even more, Randall Carter had arranged temporary security for her. A guard accompanied her twice a day for the five blocks to her home at the Ritz-Carlton. That building was under heightened security as well.
Thank God for Randall Carter.
Two days ago when her plane from Belize arrived in Dallas, an airline representative came on board, instructed the passengers to remain seated for a moment, and ushered Nicole off the plane ahead of the crowd. She was whisked to an unmarked VIP lounge inside the security area. One person was waiting – Randall Carter.
“Mr. Carter, thank you so much for helping me. I had nowhere else to turn when I got away from the kidnappers. Thank God you helped me.”
“No thanks are necessary. I was pleased to be of assistance and I’m so glad you’re safe and back in the USA. I know you’re tired and as soon as the airline rep retrieves your checked luggage we’ll be out of here.”
For a fleeting moment she wondered how Randall Carter had gotten through security without a boarding pass. Since 9/11 it had become virtually impossible to do but she also knew that here in Dallas there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish. Tom Horton, the president of the parent company of American Airlines, was Randall Carter’s neighbor in exclusive Preston Hollow, as was former President George W. Bush. People like Carter had power others could only fantasize about.
“Thank you for coming personally to meet me. That was kind of you but you didn’t need to do that. I could have caught a cab home.”
“Not a chance, Nicole. My goal today is to get one of Carter and Wells’ best legal minds back home and back to work, safe and sound.” He told her to take as much time off as she wanted. He offered a counselor in case she wanted some help getting over the terrible ordeal she had been through.
She thanked him for his concern and took the name of the therapist e
ven though she didn’t expect to visit him.
After only one day off she forced herself to get back into her job, mainly to stop obsessing about Brian. Carter would keep her up to date on the search for her kidnapper. She knew Brian and Sam were OK although with limited battery life she couldn’t talk to him.
This morning she’d prepared the defense of a Dallas oilman who was accused of killing his wife. It was the first murder in five years in the posh community of University Park and there was no doubt the man had actually committed the murder.
The problem was that it was actually the wife who had paid to have her husband killed while she was playing bridge one afternoon. The gunman, not the sharpest pencil in the drawer, got his money up front but unfortunately misunderstood the timing. He used the wife’s alarm code to enter the house, walked into the husband’s study and was holding a gun to his head when the wife came home from her bridge game. The gunman wasn’t supposed to be there – the wife heard a noise in the study, opened the door and her husband used the confusion to grab the gun. A wild shot was fired as the men struggled. The wife collapsed at the study door, fatally wounded. Police responded to the alarm call, the gunman ran, and the husband was left holding the weapon. He was charged with murder. The police thought there was no gunman at all – it was just a husband and his now-dead wife.
The defendant’s money was spread all over Dallas seeking information about the shooter. Finally someone came forward. He told a story about a guy in a bar who bragged that he got twenty grand for a murder he didn’t even have to commit since the intended victim accidentally killed the wife who’d ordered the shooting in the first place. This news didn’t convince the DA’s office so a date was set for the oilman’s murder trial. Nicole was certain the case would be dismissed but she had to prepare on the off chance it wasn’t.
Nicole’s assistant knocked softly on her office door and stuck his head inside. “Miss Farber, Mr. Carter would like you to join him at the Petroleum Club for lunch at 1:30. He has a new client he wants you to meet. You’re free then; may I accept the invitation?”
“That sounds great. Tell him I’ll meet him there. Who’s the client?”
“He didn’t say. Mr. Carter will have a driver pick you up downstairs. Security will take you from here to the garage.”
She smiled. He was still looking after her welfare. She was blessed to work for Randall Carter.
A little after one pm she and a guard took the elevator to the garage where she was handed over to the driver of a black Mercedes sedan.
“Shouldn’t take long at all,” he said. “Traffic’s pretty light even though it’s the lunch hour.”
They went down Pearl Street and turned on Ross. The driver entered an underground parking lo, parked and accompanied her to an express elevator going directly to the fifty-fifth floor of the fourth tallest building in Dallas. When she stepped off the maître d’ welcomed her.
“Good afternoon, Miss Farber. Mr. Carter and his guest are waiting for you in the bar.”
She walked into the expansive lounge and saw Randall Carter wave. As she walked across the room she looked at his guest, a strikingly handsome man maybe in his late sixties. He looks familiar, she thought. He was dressed in a dark pinstripe suit she guessed might be from London’s Savile Row. She knew Randall Carter had his suits custom made there and this man’s taste appeared equally impeccable. He wore a starched white shirt with simple gold cufflinks and a red Hermes tie. As she reached the table both men stood.
“Nicole, I’m glad you could make it. I want you to get to know our new client. He was particularly interested in meeting you.” She smiled at the man and he held out his hand.
“Miss Farber, it’s a pleasure. I think we have a mutual acquaintance.”
“Thank you. Good to meet you too. I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”
“I’m sorry – my fault. Unfortunately many people know me on sight! It’s refreshing to see you’re not one of them, so forgive my rudeness. I’m John Spedino.”
The shock was evident on Nicole’s face. “Are you all right?” her boss said. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Have you two met before?”
“Please be seated, gentlemen,” Nicole responded, instantly regaining her composure. “No, I haven’t met Mr. Spedino but I think you know my friend Brian Sadler.”
“Yes, Brian and I have met a time or two. I am a big fan and an occasional customer of his gallery. Please send along my regards when you talk with him next. I understand you and he had a distressful trip to Central America recently.”
“How, uh, how do you know that…” Nicole stammered as Randall Carter smiled and raised his hand.
“John’s a good friend. I hope you don’t mind that I shared with him about your misadventure in Guatemala last week. It’s an incredible horror story but one with a good ending, thank God. And Brian’s continuing search for Captain Jack and the lost library of the Maya – that’s a fascinating tale!”
Nicole attempted a half-smile and sat. She had always made a point of separating her personal life from her job. She considered herself a private person and she was uncomfortable here, especially given her employer’s decision to relate her story without asking her in advance.
They ordered lunch and Carter turned the conversation to the matter at hand. “As you may know, Nicole, a couple of years ago John Spedino was convicted of fraud involving a public company called Bellicose Holdings. I think you’re very aware that Warren Taylor and Currant was the investment banking firm here in town that took Bellicose public. You also know it shut down over the negative publicity surrounding the fraud. Your friend Brian was a broker there at the time the Bellicose public offering occurred.”
Nicole listened intently.
“Mr. Spedino’s previous counsel convinced a judge to grant a new trial on the grounds that the president of Bellicose Holdings, Francois Rochefort, perjured himself to avoid jail time. Rochefort’s a convicted criminal – he served ten years in a French prison for fraud. Mr. Spedino has told me he had nothing to do with any of this. The U.S. Attorney has been trumping up charges against John Spedino for years and until this Bellicose matter their success rate was zero. John has never had a conviction for anything and he has assured me he is guilty of nothing now.
“Our firm has been retained to represent him going forward. Our goal is to resoundingly prove to the prosecutors that they have nothing to gain from a new trial. We want to convince them that Mr. Spedino will never go back to prison for anything involving Bellicose or Francois Rochefort because he’s innocent. But if the U.S. Attorney insists on filing new charges we will put on his defense. I want you to be the lead attorney on this one, Nicole. It would be a personal favor to me if you would handle it.”
John Spedino leaned forward in his chair and touched her sleeve lightly. “From what Randall tells me you’re the top criminal lawyer at Carter and Wells. That says a lot, Miss Farber, and I’m pleased that Mr. Carter and I have selected you to handle my case. I’m putting my future in your hands and I’m confident you’re exactly the right person for me.”
Chapter Sixteen
The morning after the group had found the temple they were breaking down their campsite. Lynne was already up on top examining the jungle around the ancient structure. Since the jungle always hid ancient buildings, they often looked like nothing more than tall mounds. She held a compass, turning in each direction as she looked for a structure taller than the one on which she was standing. It should be nearly a hundred feet high and it might or might not have the ruin of a building on top.
By the time she descended the men had finished loading and the backpacks sat in a row, ready to be hoisted and carried.
“Did you see anything?” Brian asked.
“Maybe. It’s hard to tell with so much growth and so many trees but I think there are at least two or three tall structures within a half-mile of here. Let’s keep moving.”
A half hour later Lynne stopped, glanced at
her compass and held up her hand. “We’re going the wrong way. We need to be going there.” She pointed into a tangled mess of trees and vines.
The three of them waited on the trail as the workers and Alfredo hacked into the brush. After an hour the men had cleared only fifty feet.
By mid-afternoon thunder boomed ominously. They quickly set up one tent and threw their stuff inside, barely making it as the daily rainstorm came, torrential but brief. Alfredo ran here and there, pulling open the portable shower bag and setting out cook pots to catch the rain. Within ten minutes it was all over and there was plenty of water.
They were all sopping wet and sky-high humidity was like a furnace. They’d been together long enough by now that no one gave nudity a thought. Everyone peeled off soaked clothes and wrung them out. Sam glanced at Lynne; she grinned and said, “Hey, you’ve seen one set, you’ve seen them all. Right?”
“Not necessarily true,” Sam muttered under his breath to no one in particular.
Refreshed and clean, everyone hung wet clothes on branches, dug through their packs and donned dry clothing.
Brian and Sam leaned against a tree, catnapping as the workers cleared the trail. Lynne made notes in her journal. After a couple of hours they heard Alfredo’s muffled voice.
“Hey guys! Come see this!” They walked a hundred feet down the new trail until they reached the workers.
“Esta otra escalera!” one of the men said, pointing forward.
Alfredo translated. “They’ve found another stairway.”
Where the men had cleared Lynne saw three steps. They had worked horizontally instead of going up like last time.
Her voice quivered with anticipation. “Let’s keep clearing and see how wide this baby is.”
As the workers cut and chopped Lynne consulted Captain Jack’s letter, both the original and the English translation.
“Cortes says the stairway is twenty-five to thirty feet wide and seventy-five to ninety feet high. We’re looking for stairs that lead to some kind of narrow passageway or aperture, through which we should find a small flat plaza.”
Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet Page 43
