The Death Relic

by Chris Kuzneski

  Less than 10 miles from the Fiesta Americana, Jones parked the H2 near Punta Nizuc, a rocky shoal that jutted into the Caribbean Sea on the southern end of Boulevard Kukulcan. The surrounding water offered some of the best snorkelling in the world, where stingrays and schools of brightly coloured fish fed on the coral reefs, but a strong undertow and jagged rocks kept swimmers away from the point, which was one of the reasons Jones had selected it.

  He knew they would be alone out there.

  Having spent a lot of time at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Jones was used to the cawing of the seagulls that flocked to the Gulf Coast of Florida. But for some reason, they were nowhere to be seen or heard in Cancún. Instead, the air was filled with frigatebirds, massive creatures with black iridescent feathers and wingspans of nearly 10 feet. With the largest wing-to-bodyweight ratio of any bird, they are essentially aerial, able to stay aloft for more than a week at a time. They can’t swim or walk very well, nor take off from flat surfaces, so the only time they land is to roost or breed on trees or cliffs. They even feed in the air, swooping down across the water to scoop up fish or rob other seabirds of their catch, which is known as kleptoparasitic feeding. Strangely, they even chase smaller birds that have recently fed, using their speed and endurance to outrun and harass their victims until they regurgitate their meals. At which point the frigatebirds enjoy some in-flight dining.

  While watching this odd behaviour from afar, Jones’s mind drifted back to the previous night and realized very little had changed, despite the radical shift in scenery. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been trudging through the sewers of Ambridge, PA, while testing out the LED Incapacitator, which resulted in a bunch of college boys throwing up on his boots. Now he was standing on one of the most scenic spots on earth, surrounded by the opulent waters of the Caribbean, while watching birds puke in the sky.

  Jones shook his head in frustration.

  Although he appreciated the symmetry, he had been hoping for something slightly more romantic than puking birds when he had left for Mexico. Maybe not a full reconciliation with Maria – he knew that would take a lot longer than a weekend to navigate – but he had wanted to test the waters for the future and find out whether it was a casual relationship or something more serious. Now that conversation would have to wait until they dealt with Hamilton’s discovery and all the problems that were sure to follow.

  Jones turned from the sea when he heard the sound of tyres on gravel behind him. As expected, it was Payne and Maria. The silver SUV crawled down the unpaved road, easily navigating the sand and stone that led to the point. Payne eyed the terrain as he approached the H2. Although the location was secluded, it was less than ideal in many ways. Excluding the water, the only way off the rocky shoal was down the path he was currently on. With that in mind, he made a narrow three-point turn and backed the SUV into position. Now, if they needed to make a quick getaway, at least they were facing in the right direction.

  Payne glanced at Maria. ‘Stay in here. I want to make sure everything’s OK.’

  Maria was about to object when she remembered her promise to Jones. No backtalk or bullshit of any kind. ‘OK. I’ll stay in the car.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll leave the AC on. Feel free to change the radio station if you want.’

  She glared at him. ‘I wish you two would stop telling me not to worry. The more you do, the more I worry.’

  Payne smiled as he opened the door. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll stop doing that soon.’

  Before she could respond, Payne closed the door in her face and shifted his focus to Jones. He was leaning against the side of the Hummer, his arms crossed in front of him and his face angled towards the sky. He had a distant look in his eyes, as if he was trying to grasp what they had stumbled into and didn’t quite know how they were going to get out of it.

  It was a look that Payne had seen hundreds of times.

  A look that meant Jones was thinking.

  Not wanting to disturb him, Payne walked down the path and sidled up to the Hummer. The wind was blowing in from the sea and the sun was shining brightly. All in all, it wasn’t a bad place to be in the middle of February.

  ‘So,’ he eventually said, ‘I got your text.’

  ‘I see that,’ Jones replied.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  He shrugged. ‘I checked the Hummer for tracking devices and disabled the GPS before I arrived. As long as you weren’t followed, we should be clear.’

  ‘Nope, we weren’t followed. I made sure of that.’

  ‘In that case, we should be fine.’

  ‘Good. Then I’m going to close my eyes and work on my tan.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been doing.’

  Payne looked at him. ‘I can tell. You’re much darker than I am.’

  Jones smiled. ‘That’s what I was going for.’

  ‘Well, mission accomplished.’

  ‘Jon?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Please shut up now.’

  After that, Payne waited patiently, not wanting to push the conversation until Jones was ready to talk. Everybody had his own way of processing information, and this was Jones’s method of working through complex problems. When it came to missions, he was a brilliant strategist. He had received the highest score in the history of the Air Force Academy’s MSAE (Military Strategy Acumen Examination) and had organized hundreds of operations with the MANIACs. He had a knack for seeing things several steps ahead, like a chess master. And sometimes high-level thinking took a little extra time.

  A few minutes passed before Jones spoke again. When he finally did, there was a confidence in his voice that had been missing earlier. Plus, his sense of humour had returned.

  Jones cleared his throat and pointed towards the sky. ‘Did you see the pterodactyls? They’re particularly lovely this time of year.’

  Payne nodded. ‘One just swooped down and snatched a baby off the beach. I was going to save it, but I didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘Thanks, Jon. I appreciate it.’

  ‘So,’ he said as he pointed towards the back of the Hummer, ‘are you ready to show me what you found? Maria said something about a bomb.’

  ‘Did she really?’

  Payne shrugged. ‘I think she did, but I wasn’t really listening. I was too preoccupied with evasive driving techniques and the threat of aerial pursuit.’

  ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

  ‘Actually, you’re right. It was kind of fun.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  Payne looked at him and waited for an explanation. ‘So?’

  Jones stared back. ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t play dumb with me! I was in the middle of a productive meeting with Deputy Dawg when I got your text. I think something bad happened to Hamilton, and I was this close to figuring it out. I hope to hell you can shed some light on it.’

  ‘I think I can.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Give me a hand with the trunk, and I’ll show you.’

  A spare tyre was mounted on the tailgate of the H2. It swung left to right and had to be pushed out of the way before the back window could be lifted open. Payne handled both while Jones removed the last few bungee cords from the rear of the tarp. He would have done it earlier, but he didn’t want to subject his cargo to the elements until it was completely necessary.

  Jones spoke as he worked. ‘This is one of those good news/bad news situations. Don’t be blinded by the good until I tell you about the bad.’

  ‘How bad?’

  ‘Pretty bad.’

  ‘OK, I’ll keep that in mind.’

  Staring out of the rear of the SUV, Maria saw them removing the final cord from the tarp and decided to take a closer look. After all, this was supposed to be her job, not theirs. She quietly opened her door and slipped out of the vehicle without making a sound. She crept across the rocky shoal until she was close enough to gaze into the back of the H2. When she did, h
er eyes widened in surprise and a single phrase slipped from her mouth.

  Two foreign words that summed up Payne’s feelings as well.

  ‘Santa Maria!’

  29

  Tiffany waited for the crowd to disperse before she approached Paco. She had thoroughly enjoyed the walking tour and wanted to ask him a few more questions about the area. She thanked him for his time and tipped him twenty pesos. ‘I thought you did a wonderful job. You were very informative.’

  He graciously took the money. ‘And entertaining.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, laughing. ‘Informative and entertaining.’

  He grinned. ‘Mucho gracias.’

  ‘If you have a moment, may I ask you another question?’

  ‘For you, pelirroja, anything.’

  She blushed slightly. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. On most trips, she was rarely noticed. ‘I was wondering about the lake.’

  ‘Which lake?’

  ‘Lake, um, Texaco? You know, the one around the city?’

  He smiled at her attempt. ‘It is pronounced, Texcoco.’

  ‘Texcoco,’ she echoed.

  He nodded. ‘Texcoco is a lake. Texaco is a petrol station.’

  ‘Sorry about that. I knew it sounded wrong when I said it.’

  ‘That is OK. Americans say it like that all the time.’

  ‘You must get sick of us.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not at all. Without dumb Americans, I do not make money!’

  She laughed at the comment. She sensed he was only teasing. ‘After that remark, I’m afraid to ask you my question. You’re going to think I’m really stupid.’

  ‘Not stupid. Just unaware. Most people who live here are unaware, too. Tell me, what brings you to Mexico City?’

  ‘A business trip.’

  ‘What kind of business?’

  ‘International banking. I have a big meeting with a key contributor.’

  Paco grinned. ‘See! You are not stupid. You have important job with important company. You are much more important than me. I am just a tour guide. Your question could never be stupid. Tell me, what is question?’

  ‘You said the Aztecs built their city in the middle of the lake. And the Spanish built this city on top of the Aztec city, right?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. In that case, what happened to the lake? I don’t remember seeing it when I flew into the airport.’

  ‘Sadly, the lake is no more. The Spanish killed it.’

  ‘They killed it? How do you kill a lake?’

  ‘By building a giant drain to let the water out.’

  She stared at him, unsure if he was joking. ‘Are you serious?’

  He nodded. ‘Flooding was a problem for the Spanish. They expanded our city without strengthening the levees, and that was big mistake. The flood in 1629 was so bad that parts of the city remained underwater for five years. Eventually, the Spanish crown did something desperate. They built a drain to save the city. First they took our island, then they took our lake.’

  ‘That’s horrible. I bet the Aztec city looked gorgeous in the middle of the water.’

  He shrugged. He had never seen Tenochtitlan. He had been born 500 years too late. ‘I must admit, there is one thing that gives me comfort about the fate of the Aztecs.’

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked.

  He pointed at the Metropolitan Cathedral. It loomed high above the plaza, its bell towers stretching towards the sky. It truly was an impressive church.

  She nodded solemnly. ‘Your faith in God.’

  He laughed at the suggestion. ‘No! I am not a religious man. I am talking about the building. The building brings me comfort.’

  ‘You mean its beauty?’

  ‘I mean its condition. The stupid thing is falling down.’

  ‘Really?’

  He laughed louder. ‘The Spanish thought they were so smart when they drained the lake. But guess what? The water had to go somewhere. In this case, it went under our island. For centuries, it has been eating away at the rock. The lakebed is dry, but our city is sinking – several inches every year. Look at the towers. They are all crooked. I call them the Leaning Towers of Zócalo. I am old man, but my spine is straighter than them. Someday they will fall over. And when they do, I will laugh and thank Cuauhtémoc. I will tell tourists that his ghost knocked them over as revenge for losing his city.’

  Until that moment, she hadn’t really noticed the towers. But after his comments, she couldn’t help but notice how crooked they were. ‘I’ll be damned. I totally missed that.’

  ‘Have you been inside the cathedral?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Do not waste your time – unless you like scaffolding. Everywhere you look, there is scaffolding. It is holding up the arches. It is holding up the ceiling. It is even holding up Jesús. He should be on a cross, not on scaffolding. I am not Catholic, and even I know that.’

  She fought the urge to smile.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘have you heard of “the watch list”?’

  ‘You mean the criminal watch list?’

  He shook his head. ‘I mean, the monument watch list.’

  ‘Nope. Never heard of it.’

  ‘Historians studied famous monuments all around the world, and they picked the ones that you should visit before it is too late. Catedral Metropolitana is high on that list.’

  She considered his statement. ‘In that case, would you mind taking my picture in front of it? I want to get a photo before it falls down.’

  Over the next fifteen minutes, Tiffany took several photographs of the plaza. She walked to one end of the square and snapped some pictures. Then she walked to the other end and did the same. But instead of focusing her lens on the buildings and monuments, like every other tourist in the Zócalo, she was more concerned with traffic patterns and escape routes.

  As families strolled past and young kids played, she tried to imagine what they would do if they heard a gunshot. Would they freeze? Would they scatter? Or would they put their faith in God and run towards the cathedral? And what about the guards at the National Palace? It was no longer the official residence of the Mexican President, but it was still a government building. Would they come running, or would they lock their doors to protect their own?

  Tiffany continued to ponder such things as she walked towards the northeast corner of the plaza. She noticed a steady stream of people coming and going from that direction, but she couldn’t understand why. As far as she could tell, there was nothing over there except an intersection. And then she saw it. A set of stairs leading under the plaza.

  She went closer and peered into the stairwell, unsure what she would find in the shadows. Several feet underground, there was a blue-and-white sign that read, ‘Zócalo’. Next to it was the symbol for the Mexico City Metro system. For some reason, this major station on Line 2 was practically hidden from the plaza. No signs or symbols on the street above. Just two iron railings and a long set of stone stairs leading into the depths of Paco’s island.

  Just to be safe, she made sure there were no surprises in the station before calling in her field assessment. Using a burner phone, she dialled the number from memory and waited for the team leader to answer. She knew what was at stake. The next phase of their mission would be based on her evaluation. If the plaza wouldn’t work for a ransom drop, she had the authority to move it to a secondary location – even if that meant waiting for another day.

  ‘So,’ he asked her, ‘what do you think?’

  ‘I think it’s perfect.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m positive. There’s no way they’ll catch me.’

  ‘If they do, they’ll kill you.’

  She smiled. ‘Not if I kill them first.’

  30

  Payne didn’t bother to criticize Maria for leaving the SUV. He was too focused on Hamilton’s cargo to worry about her disobedience.

  The
back of the Hummer was filled with artefacts, each divided by category and stored in a handmade display case with removable wooden slats. The case stretched almost the whole length and width of the trunk, as if it were custom-fitted to the vehicle. Large objects such as painted ceramic vases, clay statues and intricate jade masks were packed in bubble wrap and given their own individual compartments. Meanwhile, smaller items, such as jewellery, stone figurines and pottery shards, were relegated to plastic bags and crammed in the remaining spaces. With a depth of 24 inches, the case held more than 100 items.

  As the lone archaeologist in the group, Maria stepped forward and examined the relics. Despite having very little experience with Mesoamerican art, she had spent enough time in museums around the world to know an important find when she saw one. And this qualified.

  Maria held up a plastic bag. Inside was a carved stone figure depicting a Mayan god with an elaborate headdress. ‘Do you know what a collector would pay for this?’

  Payne shrugged. ‘No idea.’

  ‘Depending on its age, probably tens of thousands of dollars.’

  ‘For an action figure? It’s not even in its original box.’

  She ignored the wisecrack. ‘The Mayan civilization is more than four thousand years old. If this object came from the Preclassic Era, it might even predate Christ.’ She handed it to Jones, who gazed at its features. ‘I’ll be the first to admit that this isn’t my area of expertise, but at first glance, I’d say that Hamilton made a substantial discovery. On the open market, the contents of this trunk are worth … well … I honestly don’t know. But I guarantee it’s a lot.’

  Jones grimaced at her assessment but said nothing. In his mind, it still wasn’t the right time to ruin their moods. He would wait until they had a little more time to examine the bounty before he revealed the bad news about Hamilton.