The Death Relic

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘Me?’ she said, surprised.

  He nodded. ‘In addition, I also trust your friends.’

  ‘My friends?’

  He pointed at Payne and Jones. ‘I’m confident that David and Jonathon will get you to where you need to go. That is if you gentlemen are willing to accompany her.’

  Jones glanced at Maria. ‘Of course.’

  Payne shrugged. ‘Got nothing better to do.’

  Boyd smiled. ‘Wonderful. Then it’s time for me to bid you adieu.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘No, my dear, it is you that is leaving. There’s a plane outside. It’s fuelled and ready to take you to where you need to go.’

  ‘Which is where?’ Payne wondered.

  Boyd grinned as he answered. ‘Cholula.’

  71

  Boyd had proved to be a master strategist during the past few days, but one thing he had failed to take into account was Payne’s physical stature. Used to the spacious legroom of a military cargo plane or the first-class accommodation in his company jet, Payne felt like a sardine in the fixed-wing aircraft that flew them from Mérida to Cholula. Forced to sit next to Maria, who was half his size and the only one able to squeeze into his cramped row, conversation was limited for the first hour. Maria passed the time by reading a file that Boyd had assembled on the history of the Great Pyramid of Cholula, while Payne stared out the window at the Gulf of Mexico below.

  To get from the northern end of the Yucatán to their destination in central Mexico, they flew over water for most of the trip. In many ways it helped Payne understand why Marcos de Mercado had used a ship to move the Maya treasure westwards in 1574. Not only did he shave several weeks off the travel time by charting a sea route, he also avoided hundreds of thousands of natives who might have intercepted the fortune in the desert or the mountains.

  Maria closed the file and tried to stretch. It was tough to do in the limited space.

  Payne smiled at her attempt. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For taking up half the plane.’

  She laughed. ‘Now that you mention it, things are kind of tight. Remind me to complain to the flight attendant the next time she comes by.’

  ‘When you do, tell her I’m still waiting for my drink.’

  She licked her lips at the thought. ‘Actually, I could go for a drink right about now. A pitcher of margaritas would definitely take the edge off.’

  ‘A whole pitcher?’ Payne said, surprised. ‘In my experience, if a woman drinks a whole pitcher of margaritas, she usually takes off a lot more than her edge.’

  She laughed at the joke. ‘In your experience, huh? Out of curiosity, how many times has that happened to you?’

  Payne flashed a devilish grin as he pretended to count the answer on his fingers. When he reached double digits, she grabbed his hands to make him stop.

  ‘Forget it. I don’t want to know.’

  ‘Good. Because I don’t want to say.’

  Boyd knew the building in Mérida had to be ‘cleaned’ before he left Mexico. To accomplish the task, he hauled a 5-gallon can of gasoline from his SUV to the makeshift classroom, then splashed the accelerant on the walls, the furniture and the floor. By the time the fire department arrived to put out the blaze, every shred of forensic evidence would be reduced to ash and he would be on his way to America.

  Tiffany, however, had other ideas.

  She had wanted to confront Boyd about the photos ever since Chichén Itzá, but had decided to wait until Payne and Jones were out of the equation. Now that they were gone, it was time to make her move. She raised her weapon and entered the classroom while Boyd worked with his back to the door. She called his name to get his attention.

  Boyd turned and saw the gun. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Getting some answers.’

  ‘Answers? To what?’

  ‘Stop talking. I’m asking the questions here.’

  He placed the empty can on the floor. ‘As you wish.’

  ‘Why did you do it? Why did you sell me out?’

  ‘Sell you out? I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I would never—’

  ‘Cut the bullshit! I know damn well you sent my picture and location to Angel. And don’t even try to deny it. I saw the email on his phone.’

  The corners of his lips curled into a smile. ‘Ah, that explains your hostility. You found out about the email. I was wondering what you were referring to. Now your reaction makes perfect sense. I, too, would be upset if the same thing had happened to me.’

  After a while, Maria’s conversation with Payne shifted to the mission at hand. Payne knew very little about the city of Cholula and needed to be briefed for the journey ahead. Instead of reading Boyd’s report, which was several pages long and looked less exciting than a history textbook, he decided to question Maria. According to Boyd, her knowledge would be the key to everything once they arrived at the site. Payne didn’t know whether or not that was true. He sensed that perhaps Boyd had presented the challenge that way to make her more receptive to the credit she would receive, but he wouldn’t know for sure until they solved the mystery.

  Perhaps her knowledge was the key to finding the treasure.

  They would find out soon enough.

  He pointed at the file in her lap. ‘What can you tell me about the site?’

  She opened the folder and handed him a picture of a large orange-yellow church that had been built on top of a lush, green hill. ‘This is Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de los Remedios. In English, that means Church of Our Lady of Remedies.’

  Payne stared at the picture. ‘That’s a beautiful church.’

  She nodded in agreement. ‘Does anything about it stand out?’

  ‘Tough to tell,’ he admitted as he tried to make out the details of the dome and spires, which could barely be seen in the photograph. ‘Do you have something closer?’

  ‘I do, but the feature I’m referring to is quite visible in this photo.’

  Payne shrugged. ‘Sorry. Nothing stands out.’

  ‘Look at the hill.’

  ‘The hill?’ He glanced at the ground underneath the church. Trees and grass covered the terrain, as if it was any other hill in the rolling landscape of central Mexico. ‘What about it?’

  ‘It isn’t a hill. It’s actually a pyramid.’

  ‘Why did you do it?’ Tiffany repeated.

  ‘Not for money,’ Boyd assured her. ‘Technically speaking, I didn’t sell you out. I’m not the type of man who would sell information to scum like Angel Ramirez.’

  ‘No, you’re just the type of man who would stab someone in the back!’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s a big difference between stabbing someone in the back and punishing someone for her mistakes. And you made several mistakes during this operation – the type of mistakes that have consequences.’

  ‘Mistakes? What mistakes? I acquired the medallion and millions of dollars for your front company. What else is there?’

  He laughed at the absurdity of her statement. ‘What else is there? How about anonymity? I told you from the beginning that anonymity was crucial to this operation, yet you allowed Angel to see your face at Zócalo. Within twelve hours of the ransom drop, a sketch of your face was sent to every criminal and border guard in Mexico. The entire country is looking for you.’

  ‘Bullshit! I wore a gas mask at the plaza.’

  ‘What plaza is that? Because the Zócalo I remember is no longer there. All that remains is a giant hole and scorched stone. The damage is so bad that the Federales are treating it as a terrorist attack. As far as they’re concerned, you’re public enemy number one.’

  Tiffany had seen pictures of the aftermath. The damage was more severe than she had anticipated. ‘That’s not my fault. My expert misjudged the explosives.’

  ‘But you hired the expert. Therefore, the fault lies with you.’

  ‘And you hired me, so ultimately you’re to blame.
’

  He smiled. ‘This isn’t about blame. This is about containment. As long as you’re alive, you’re a threat to everyone who participated in this operation. We can’t risk you talking to the Mexican authorities. That would make things, um, complicated.’

  ‘So you sent Angel to do something you couldn’t. You coward.’

  ‘No, my dear, you have it all wrong. I put Angel on your scent so you could punish the man who revealed your identity. If you had killed him in Mexico City like you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be in our current predicament.’

  ‘There you go blaming me again.’

  He shook his head. ‘I told you, this isn’t about blame. This is about containment.’

  Maria’s last comment confused Payne. ‘You mean the hill is shaped like a pyramid.’

  ‘No,’ she countered. ‘It is a pyramid – an ancient stone pyramid. In fact, it’s the largest pyramid, by volume, in the world. Its size is estimated at nearly four and a half million cubic metres. That’s nearly twice the size of the pyramid at Giza.’

  He looked at the photograph again and tried to picture what she was saying. If not for her description, he never would have guessed that there was anything under the grass but dirt. It looked completely natural to him. ‘How tall is the hill?’

  She corrected him. ‘The pyramid is two hundred and seventeen feet tall. Its base is nearly fifteen hundred feet on each side.’

  ‘Holy crap! That’s the length of five football fields.’

  She knew little about football. ‘If you say so.’

  He pointed at the grass. ‘Is this common?’

  ‘Is what common?’

  ‘The grass. I know some pyramids were swallowed up by the jungle and forgotten for centuries, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen one swallowed by a lawn.’

  She smiled at the comment. ‘Actually, the pyramid wasn’t swallowed. It was hidden by the locals. According to legend, they were so convinced the Spaniards would destroy it – as they did to the great monuments in Tenochtitlan – that they covered it with soil and seed. By the time the conquistadors arrived in Cholula, the pyramid looked like a hill.’

  ‘That’s one of the coolest things I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘The locals did such a remarkable job of concealment that the pyramid was eventually forgotten. It remained undisturbed for over three hundred years until a construction crew rediscovered it in the late nineteenth century. Since 1931, archaeologists have dug over five miles of tunnels through the heart of the pyramid. They’ve found altars, floors, walls, and human remains dating back to the ninth century, but no significant treasure.’

  He glanced at her. ‘Is that good or bad?’

  ‘Neither,’ she said, ‘because we’ll be focusing on the church, not the pyramid.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  She flipped through the papers in Boyd’s file until she found the document she was looking for. It was a photocopy of one of the pages of Mercado’s journal. She had highlighted several of the dates. ‘Construction of the church began in the spring of 1574, approximately the same time that the treasure arrived in Cholula. According to this, Marcos’s brother Manuel handpicked the work crew and oversaw the building of the church. Upon its completion in the summer of 1575, Marcos himself became one of the clergy. He remained there until 1596.’

  Payne nodded in understanding. ‘From what I know about conquistadores, they were explorers and fighters. They weren’t architects and they weren’t builders. If Manuel took the time to build this church, there has to be a reason.’

  She agreed. ‘Back then it was quite common to build churches on top of native monuments. It was Spain’s way of claiming the land as its own. If Manuel had somehow learned about the pyramid, he would have realized the best way to protect it would be to build a church on top of it. The hill underneath would then have been considered holy ground, which would have kept explorers away. By building one church, he hid the treasure and protected the pyramid.’

  ‘You gotta love the irony.’

  ‘What irony?’

  Payne explained. ‘Bishop Landa was supposed to be a holy man, but he used his authority to kill the natives and destroy their relics. Meanwhile, the Mercados, who were trained soldiers, didn’t fight back with violence. Instead, they fought back by building a church. I wasn’t an English major, but I’m pretty sure that qualifies as irony.’

  She nodded. ‘I think it does.’

  ‘What’s that expression, “God works in mysterious ways”? It’s the perfect example.’

  She gasped. ‘I can’t believe you said that. That’s my favourite proverb of all time. My mother used to say it to me when I was a girl.’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know that. Maybe it’s a sign.’

  She smiled at the thought. ‘If it is a sign, I bet it’s a good one.’

  Tiffany aimed the gun at Boyd’s chest. ‘From my perspective, it’s too late for containment. Everyone knows what I look like. For now, all I care about is punishment. You stabbed me in the back. Now you have to pay.’

  His smile widened. ‘Actually, my dear, it is you who must pay.’

  Before Tiffany could react, she sensed a presence behind her. It was one of the henchmen who had trashed Maria’s suite in Cancún. He had been summoned to Mérida to silence Tiffany once and for all. And he enjoyed his work. He calmly put the barrel of his gun against the base of her skull and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through her spine, killing her instantly. Her blood and brain prevented the muzzle flash from igniting the gas fumes in the room.

  A minute later, Boyd would incinerate her body along with everything else.

  Then he would head to America. Just like he had planned.

  72

  Cholula, Mexico

  (76 miles southeast of Mexico City)

  They arrived in Cholula after dark, which was fine with them since they realized that several laws might have to be broken in order to complete their adventure. Even Ulster, a straight-laced academic who felt more guilt over parking tickets than some people did over felonies, was willing to concede that a thorough search couldn’t be done during daylight hours. Not only was Our Lady of Remedies a major tourist attraction, drawing thousands of visitors a week, his involvement was bound to draw attention from INAH and the Catholic Church, both of which would impede their investigation for several weeks. In the world of archaeology, Ulster learned long ago that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than it was to get permission.

  Patrolled by a police equestrian unit, the single road that led to the church was well guarded. It forced them to abandon the SUV Boyd had provided more than a quarter of a mile from the complex. After breaching the security fence that encircled the Cholula Archaeological Site, Payne led the way up the side of the mound. The group marvelled at the topography and the natural feel of the grass. In the daylight, the illusion would have been shattered by all of the layers of the pyramid that had been exposed for exhibits, but at night, the reality was concealed by darkness. To them it seemed as though they were climbing a normal hill.

  No words were spoken until they reached the courtyard outside the church. Payne whispered instructions to Jones, who hustled into the shadows with lock picks in hand. Less than five minutes later, Jones opened the door from inside the church. Years ago, this would have produced applause and congratulations. Now it was merely routine. No longer amazed by his abilities, Payne and Maria walked past him as if he were holding the door of a restaurant open for them, and Ulster did the same. Hamilton was somewhat impressed, but he was too worried about being caught to say anything out loud. Instead, he simply nodded to express his thanks.

  Jones shook his head in frustration. ‘Tough crowd.’

  Familiar with the sixteenth-century structure because of her research on the plane, Maria led the way towards the main part of the church. Having seen several pictures of the nave and altar in Boyd’s file, she couldn’t wait to see them in person. Her pace was so energized that the rest o
f the group struggled to keep up, until she stopped in the centre of the main aisle to take it all in. As expected, the interior of the church was breathtaking. The entire nave, made of local stone and decorated with 24-carat gold leaf, seemed to sparkle in the dim glow of the recessed lights above the altar. Everywhere she looked, she saw gold – lustrous and brilliant, even in the faintest of light. For a brief moment, her heart sank when she considered a possibility that hadn’t crossed her mind until that very instant. What if the Mercados had melted the Aztec gold to decorate the interior of the church? What if the treasure had been in plain sight all along?

  Ulster sensed her concern. He walked over and whispered reassurance in her ear. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, the walls are merely gilded. The treasure is somewhere else.’

  She was taken aback. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’

  He smiled. ‘Because I was thinking it myself.’

  With that, Ulster continued towards the altar.

  She was ready to join him when she felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned and saw Hamilton. He was standing with his backpack in his hands and a strange look upon his face, as if he had something he needed to say. ‘Are you all right?’ Maria asked.

  He nodded. ‘Yes, Maria, I’m fine. It’s just, there’s something I need to give you. I wanted to give it to you much earlier – I swear I did – but Charles made me promise to wait until we were inside the church. You know Charles and his crazy schemes. He claims he has a reason for everything, although half the time I don’t know what that reason is.’

  ‘Trust me, I know the feeling.’

  ‘Yes, I hoped you would.’

  Wasting no time, Hamilton sat in a nearby pew and unzipped the backpack he’d been carrying with him since Mérida. He reached inside and pulled out a hard plastic case that had been custom-fitted to protect a gold medallion that had once belonged to Marcos de Mercado. Just four days earlier, the medallion had been locked away in a secret vault belonging to Hector Garcia. Familiar with its history, he had been searching for the Mercado treasure for years, but had been unable to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Unwilling to sell the item for any amount, Garcia was forced to trade the medallion for the safe return of his children, a price most parents would be willing to pay. In the end, Garcia also paid with his life.