The Death Relic

by Chris Kuzneski

  Hamilton was aware of none of that. He knew nothing about the kidnappings, the bombs at Zócalo, or the millions of dollars of dirty money that would end up in the bank accounts of the CIA. All Hamilton had been told was that Boyd had acquired the medallion from a private collector and, due to confidentiality agreements, the item should never be discussed in public. After witnessing the violence at Chichén Itzá, Hamilton assumed they had acquired the item through illicit means, but at that point he figured it was too late to do anything about it.

  Maria stared at the medallion. In the dim light of the church, it was tough to see all the details that had been carved into the gold. The one thing she did notice was a small, rectangular slot through the centre of the artefact. ‘What is it?’

  Hamilton explained. ‘This medallion was handcrafted by a Spanish artisan in the late 1500s. He made it from a detailed design that we found in the journal of Marcos de Mercado, who claimed the medallion was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the New World. On the front, there is an etching of the Death Relic symbol that I showed to you in Mérida. It is surrounded by several smaller glyphs of mixed origins. A few are Mayan, a few are Aztec and a few are from the other indigenous tribes in Mesoamerica.’

  She turned on her flashlight and studied the front surface of the medallion. She had never seen an object quite like it. ‘What do the glyphs say?’

  ‘Unfortunately, we just acquired the medallion yesterday. Charles immediately sent me a series of photographs, which I have been trying to decipher ever since. As far as I can tell, the glyphs say the same thing over and over again: “Death protects the treasure.” ’

  ‘Death protects the treasure? What does that mean?’

  ‘That, I’m afraid, is the riddle you must solve.’

  ‘Me? Why me? Why do I have to solve it?’

  He smiled to ease her anxiety. ‘Look around you, Maria. We are inside Our Lady of Remedies, a historic Catholic Church. Your area of expertise is the history of Christianity. Who better to solve the riddle than you?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘When you put it like that …’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Maria. I am confident in your abilities. If I didn’t think you could do it, do you really think I would have allowed you to join the team? As I told you in Cancún, the task that we hired you for is right up your alley. Now all you have to do is think.’

  Maria thanked him for the information, then asked to be left alone for a few minutes so she could gather her thoughts on the subject. Hamilton quietly slipped out of the pew to give her the privacy she needed. Before long, he was gathering the others to explain everything he had told her about the medallion. Although most of the burden had been placed on Maria’s shoulders, Hamilton realized it would be foolish to keep the rest of the team in the dark about such an important clue. Unlike Boyd, who wanted Maria to be the one to solve the puzzle, Hamilton didn’t care who found the prize as long as it was one of them.

  73

  Unsure where to begin, Maria glanced around the church in the hope of finding a clue. She stared at the arches, the vaulted ceiling and the main dome, but saw nothing of value except exquisite craftsmanship. Eventually, her eyes drifted towards the main altar. Decorated with fresh flowers and gilded with 24-carat gold, it was truly a beautiful sight. Everywhere she looked, there were splashes of colour – red, yellow, green and pink – but the colour that grabbed her attention most was in the middle of the back wall. Remarkably, it was the same shade of turquoise as the water in the Caribbean Sea – the same colour she had seen in Cancún and Tulum and the Mayan coastline in between. Prior to her trip to Mexico, she had never seen that particular shade before, but here it surfaced again a thousand miles from the distant shore. With nothing better to go on, she decided to glance through Boyd’s file to see if the colour had any significance.

  She flipped through several pages of the church’s history until she came across a photograph of the altar. She stared at the picture and realized the turquoise colour was part of a carved figure that depicted the patron saint of the church. Anxious to learn more, she turned the picture over and read the description on back. The tiny statue of the Virgin Mary, which resembled an elaborate doll in a long, turquoise gown, arrived in the New World in 1519. It was brought to the Americas by a Spanish soldier named Juan Rodríguez de Villafuerte, who viewed the idol as his protector for the dangerous trip. A year later, when Hernán Cortés was initially defeated by the Aztecs, Villafuerte hid the statue of Mary in a native temple, where it remained undisturbed for over twenty years. Eventually, the indigenous people of the region, who were in the midst of being converted to Christianity, discovered the statue and worshipped it until it was ‘rescued’ by a Spanish monk. Ever since, the statue has been considered the protector of the church.

  Wait, she thought to herself, what was the statue protecting?

  The whole church? Or something else?

  She turned the picture back over and studied the details of the image. Strangely, the only part of the carved statue that was visible was Mary’s painted face. An elaborate gold crown, topped with a gold cross, rested on her head. The other features of the statue – Mary’s arms, legs and torso – were concealed by a turquoise gown that flared out from the collar. The end result looked like a turquoise pyramid with Mary’s head glued to the apex. Stranger still, there was a single item draped around Mary’s neck: a tiny gold medallion.

  ‘Santa Maria!’ she whispered, sensing she was on the right track.

  Instead of rushing forward and making a scene, she held Mercado’s medallion next to the image of the statue. Unfortunately, the medallion in the picture was too blurry to make an accurate comparison. She cursed under her breath as she grabbed Boyd’s file. Trembling with excitement, she flipped through the dozens of pictures in the folder, hoping to find a close-up of Mary’s medallion. Amazingly, she stumbled across something even better.

  The first photograph was a drawing of Diego de Landa, presiding over the auto-da-fé of Maní. He was holding a gold cross above his head as a group of natives cowered at his feet. In the background, Spanish soldiers were burning artefacts and chopping off the heads of Mayan rulers. The second photograph was an oil painting of a Spanish conquistador. He, too, was holding a cross in the air as dozens of Aztecs were slain around him. One native in particular caught her eye. He was kneeling on the ground, pleading for mercy, as a Spanish soldier prepared to pierce him with a lance. One end of the lance was sharpened to a deadly point, while the other end was topped with a jewel-encrusted cross.

  Picture after picture, drawing after drawing, all of them depicting the same theme in slightly different forms: the Spanish killing natives in the name of the cross. She had studied them all during the flight to Cholula, but she had not picked up on this common thread until that very moment.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she blurted, louder than she had intended.

  From various sections of the church, heads whipped round in her direction – everyone concerned that they had been spotted by a guard. Payne happened to be the nearest person to Maria. He rushed to her side to find out what was wrong. He was expecting trouble, but she greeted him with the best news possible. She had solved the riddle.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ve figured it out! I know what the Death Relic was.’

  ‘Already?’

  She nodded, fully confident. ‘It was the cross.’

  ‘The Death Relic was the cross? I don’t follow.’

  By this time, the others had rushed to her side as well. She quickly took them through her theory, using the photographs to illustrate her point. ‘It’s all about perspective. From the Spanish point of view, the cross was a relic to be worshipped. They took it into battle, where it gave them power and strength. They fought for the cross. On the other hand, the natives viewed the cross in a completely different way. From their perspective, it was something to be feared. Look at all the natives who were slain in the name of the cross. T
o them, the relic represented death.’

  Ulster stroked his beard in thought. ‘My dear, you might be onto something. In the minds of the natives, who had never seen this symbol before the Spanish Conquest, they had to define it in their own terms. In their eyes, the cross was evil. The cross was death.’

  Hamilton nodded enthusiastically. ‘That would explain the glyphs! The lone difference between the Death God and the Death Relic symbols was the necklace of bones around the Death God’s neck. The bones were shaped like an X. It must have been their way of depicting the cross.’

  Payne glanced at his watch. He hated to dampen the group’s enthusiasm, but he knew time wasn’t on their side. ‘I know this is an important discovery, but given our current location and my desire to avoid a Mexican prison, I was wondering if this information will actually help us find the treasure.’

  She nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, it might.’

  He tapped his watch. ‘Then let’s get moving.’

  She signalled for them to follow her towards the altar. As she walked, she explained what she had in mind. ‘Take a look at the statue. What does it look like from a distance?’

  Jones guessed. ‘A really ugly puppet.’

  She glared at him. ‘David, that’s a statue of the Virgin Mary.’

  He was ready to amend his joke, but thought better of it.

  Ulster bailed him out. ‘At first blush, it appears to be a pyramid.’

  She agreed. ‘I thought the same thing when I saw it. Not only that, but she’s wearing a medallion around her neck. That can’t be a coincidence.’

  Payne was confused. ‘You think the treasure is inside the statue?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not at all. I think this statue has another purpose. It was discovered in the 1500s and has been on this altar for several hundred years. According to legend, this statue is said to be the protector of the church. But I don’t think it’s protecting the church. I think it’s protecting what was hidden in the church. I think it’s protecting the treasure.’

  Maria genuflected in front of the altar and quickly made the sign of the cross. Then she scooted round to the back wall, where the statue was kept in a gilded arch. Unfortunately, the arch started at eye level and soared more than 15 feet up the wall. Resting on an elaborate stand that took the form of a dark serpent encircling a blue globe, the Virgin Mary statue was positioned halfway up the arch. Maria’s mind quickly flashed back to the main pyramid of Chichén Itzá, the one that was attacked by a serpent during the spring and autumn equinox. She wondered if there was a link between that particular deity and the creature on the stand. If so, it would be another indication that the Christian and Mayan worlds were connected at that spot.

  She stared up at the statue. ‘Can someone give me a hand?’

  Payne was the strongest, so he picked her up and placed her on the stone ledge at the base of the arch. From there, she was able to lean forward and peek behind the statue.

  After a few seconds of searching, she started to chuckle. ‘I’ll be damned.’

  Jones heard the comment. ‘You will be damned if you keep swearing on the altar. That’s the Virgin Mary you’re talking to.’

  She ignored him. She was too focused on her discovery. ‘You’re not going to believe what’s back here. There’s a carved circle in the wall. It looks about the same size as the medallion.’

  Payne furrowed his brow. ‘A carved circle? What’s so exciting about that?’

  She glanced down at the group. ‘Terrence, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Mercado’s journal say that the medallion was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the New World?’

  Hamilton nodded. ‘As a matter of fact, it did.’

  ‘At the time, I thought it was a merely figure of speech, but what if he meant it? What if the medallion is literally a key – a key that gives us access to the treasure?’

  Ulster grinned. ‘Trust me, my dear, I’ve heard crazier things in my day. Did I ever tell you about the temple that one of my colleagues unearthed in the rain forest of Cameroon? In order to get inside, they had to shove a stick into the rectum of a hippopotamus.’

  Jones did a double take. ‘Excuse me?’

  Ulster laughed. ‘Don’t worry, David. It wasn’t a real hippopotamus. It was the statue of a hippopotamus. Nevertheless, it was a crazy place to put a keyhole.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Maria said, ‘I think this will work, but I’m not quite tall enough to reach the slot. Unless we can find a ladder, one of you is going to have to do it for me.’

  Jones pointed at Payne. ‘Dammit, Jon. You heard the lady. Help her!’

  ‘Don’t swear,’ she said.

  ‘But, you just swore, like, two seconds ago.’

  She reached out her arms. ‘Be quiet and help me down.’

  He pretended to pout. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  After moving the statue to the floor, Jones cupped his hands together and boosted Payne onto the stone ledge at the base of the arch. Payne studied the arch and saw the carved circle Maria had referred to. As she claimed, it appeared to be the same size as the medallion.

  She handed it to Payne. ‘Good luck.’

  Payne took the medallion in his right hand and reached up high. The rectangular slot in the centre of the medallion lined up perfectly with a tiny notch in the middle of the hole. Unsure of the physics, he tried to spin the medallion like a dial, but his hands slipped across the smooth surface of the gold. He tried again, this time pushing hard against the medallion as he twisted it to the right. This time, the dial moved. With every crank of the medallion, it went deeper and deeper into the wall until the arch behind the statue cracked open like a door.

  Wasting no time, he swung the arch completely open and peered into the shadows ahead. There was a short hallway, then a stone staircase that curled into the darkness.

  ‘What’s back there?’ Maria demanded.

  ‘I can’t tell. Someone give me a flashlight.’

  Jones held out his hand. ‘I’ll let you use mine, but we’re a package deal.’

  Payne looked down at Jones, Maria, Ulster and Hamilton, and he knew what needed to be done. Having come this far, it would be unfair for any one of them to make the discovery alone. He nodded to Jones, who began to boost Maria up onto the ledge. Payne pulled the group up, one at a time, and helped them through the hidden door.

  The space behind the altar was unremarkable in every way. It led to a storage vault that had been carved into the tip of the pyramid below. Made of simple stone, it wasn’t painted or gilded, and it didn’t have any of the architectural flourishes of the rest of the church. Of course, there was no reason to decorate a space that wasn’t meant for visitors.

  Instead, the space was designed to be warm and dry.

  The ideal place to protect the piles of Aztec gold and the hundreds of Mayan codices that lined the alcoves in the vaults below the church.

  Epilogue

  Tuesday, 14 February,

  Acapulco, Mexico

  (190 miles southwest of Mexico City)

  Built to resemble an Aztec pyramid, the main building of the Fairmont Acapulco Princess resort towers fifteen storeys above the tropical landscape on the southern coast of Mexico. Surrounded by lush jungles, sandy beaches and the Pacific Ocean, the Fairmont is annually recognized as one of the top resorts in Latin America. On most evenings, the Beach Club Restaurant was the type of place that Payne and Jones would enjoy without hesitation, but as they glanced around the crowded bistro, they realized the significance of the date. It was Valentine’s Day.

  Or as it’s known in Mexico: El Día del Amor.

  The Day of Love.

  Jones cursed under his breath when the hostess led them to a cosy table for two, which offered a romantic view of Revolcadero Beach. Lit by candlelight and sprinkled with rose petals, everything about the table setting was designed for romance, including the bottle of champagne that chilled near by. He brushed the petals off his chair before reluctantly sitting down. If
not for the growling in his stomach, he would have been tempted to leave.

  ‘Just so you know,’ Jones declared, ‘it doesn’t matter how much you wine and dine me, you’re not getting laid.’

  Payne moved the ice bucket out of his way. ‘Don’t worry. You’re not my type.’

  Jones considered the comment. ‘You’re such a racist.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s it. You figured me out.’

  Unwilling to leave Mexico until Ulster had dealt with the politics of their discovery, Payne and Jones decided to fly to Acapulco for a few days of golf and swimming before returning to the snow and ice of Pennsylvania. After the confusion of Cancún, the violence of Chichén Itzá and the excitement of Cholula, they felt they had earned an actual vacation.

  One without gunfire. Or explosions. Or carnage of any kind.

  The only thing they wanted to shoot was under par.

  As for the treasure itself, the inventory process had yet to begin because of a major disagreement that was brewing between the Catholic Church and Mexico’s Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Since the treasure was reached through Our Lady of Remedies, the Church felt the gold and artefacts belonged to them. Meanwhile, the INAH claimed the Mexican government should control the hoard since the vaults were dug into the top of the pyramid. Ultimately, the two groups would come to an agreement, one in which both sides would prosper, but it would take a few more days.

  In the meantime, Ulster, Maria and Hamilton patiently waited for an opportunity to examine the treasure. On the night of the discovery, they were rushed for time, which prevented them from grasping the scope of the collection. They realized it was a major historical find – one that promised to address many of the unanswered questions about the Aztec and Mayan civilizations – but they wouldn’t be able to gauge its true significance until they were allowed to study the codices in a proper setting. Before Sunday, there were only three known Mayan codices in the world. Now there were more than 300.