The Cortés Trilogy: Enigma Revenge Revelation

by John Paul Davis

  She looked at the first photograph, recognising the setting from earlier that day. The wall in front of her was hard, discoloured, as though a foreign substance had contaminated the stonework. A bright yellow aura surrounded the image like a ring of fire; she put it down to camera shake.

  She scanned the pictures in turn, finding only a handful that showed clear detail. The pictures on the wall were all two-dimensional, like an architect’s blueprint. All three of the buildings had been drawn looking at the west front and had a green object alongside it: a cup, a rose and a fish. Their presence astounded her.

  Once again, the bell was missing.

  She focused on the drawings in detail. Maria was right, she decided; it included three buildings built in the classical style, all of which appeared to be religious in nature. The island was large, its shape transcending easy description; alongside it was another green marking, this one in the shape of a trumpet. Though the location baffled her, two of the buildings she recognised.

  Maria glanced to her right. “What is it?”

  “This is incredible. Where exactly did you see them?”

  “I told you already. They were hidden behind cobwebs right of the statue.”

  Valeria nodded, smiling for the first time. She knew she hadn’t seen them herself. “They were definitely undisturbed before you saw them?”

  “Yes. Look!” She gestured with her left arm. The sleeve of her brown jacket was still ruined by a messy white coating.

  Valeria’s smile widened. The sudden onset of positivity was so welcome it felt as though a part of her spirit had been reborn. “Whatever Juan took from the statue’s hand, he now has it. If the walls were covered, he did not see what we now see.”

  Maria looked at her again, this time for longer. They were heading west, towards Mérida. As usual, the late-hour traffic was practically non-existent.

  “Juan is no fool. Whatever the location of the hidden city, he will discover it, along with the stones. For all we know that was the last one he needs.”

  Valeria shook her head. “No. Nothing has changed. For over thirty years he has been searching, following the foolish ways of his family. It is so like him to take only what shines.” She smiled to herself. “Abuela once said the pathway to the hidden city will only present itself to those who are worthy. This discovery is most fortunate.”

  “Your confidence is misplaced. I have told you already, leave, go, never come back.”

  “How can I? The route is here, discovered. Why would you have me leave when we are so close?”

  “Two inches lower and I would no longer have had a sister tonight. Luck returned us to the road. The road is where we must stay.”

  “And do nothing?”

  “You saw what happened tonight. The same thing that always happens. He always wins. I cannot fight it anymore.”

  Valeria gazed at Maria with a strong stare. For what seemed an eternity, no words were spoken; instead, she concentrated solely on her eyes. Her expression had changed, softer, unsure. Valeria had seen the look before.

  Feared it.

  “You still care for him.”

  Maria looked back, appalled. “What did you say?”

  Valeria let out a deep sigh, her body sinking into the leather seat. “After all these years.”

  “How dare you!”

  “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I misunderstand.”

  Maria bit her lip and looked furiously at Valeria. “My heart may be broken, but I remember what happened among the fires. I saw the look of hate in his eye. I saw the merciless hole in his heart. I saw Abuela . . .”

  She broke off, tears returning.

  Valeria sat in silence, watching, waiting. The vivid scenes of recent days remained with her, too, a cloudy shadow that veiled any past memories of happiness. The pain was intense. Time no longer registered clearly.

  “Listen to me. What you discovered is a gift; just like the book on Walter Raleigh, the clues can aid us. Juan Cortés will never think to go back; whatever he took is the only thing he sought. Don’t you see? Fate is with us. Abuela is helping us.”

  Maria looked back in silence. Just hearing that name upset her. “You cannot possibly believe that.”

  “Abuela always believed there is no death. That when the flesh decays, the spirit moves on. It is what the Aztec people once believed, what our family considered most important. She is with us. Helping us.”

  “I cannot trust things I cannot see. And what I have seen still hurts too much to bear.”

  Valeria took her hand and looked deep into her sister’s eyes. From somewhere inside her, she felt new confidence.

  “I do not pretend to know all the mysteries of this world. Only this. Together we are destined to succeed.”

  “Even if that were true, the pictures mean nothing. Even if the stones are still to be found, other than the cathedral in Seville, we do not know what locations they describe.”

  Valeria paused, a smile forming. “The buildings still exist. We will go there together.”

  “You recognise them?”

  “The third building is not far from here,” she said, her smile widening. “I saw it not four days ago from the car.”

  Maria was stunned. “Where?”

  “You have seen it yourself, many years ago. Soon we shall see it together.”

  *

  Cortés returned to the security room as soon as he replaced his gun in the armoury. The last he had seen of his intruders, Valeria was darting swiftly through the woodland, making a beeline for the dusty approach road. Maria, despite her stumble, had also managed to flee into the dehesa, doing her best to catch up with her sister.

  Nothing would happen to her, he decided. Not yet. Seeing her like that, so worried, so terrified, so pathetic, brought back vivid memories, not all bad. He smiled to himself, reminiscing. Today they had lost.

  Even they would not be so foolish as to return again now.

  Eduardo was still in the same place, keeping an eye on the surveillance screens. Juan saw him sitting at the main console, bored stiff.

  “You let them go?”

  Juan ignored him. “Where are they now?”

  “The elder one had a Vespa hidden among the leaves. The other drove the same four-by-four we saw the other day. They set off like wildfire.”

  Juan smiled, standing behind Eduardo as his nephew replayed the footage captured by the cameras. He recognised himself and the butler, at first conducting a reconnaissance from inside the courtyard before scouting the outer perimeter. Valeria, strangely, had arrived alone; she had taken her scooter off-road before hiding it in thick vegetation and continuing on foot. Maria arrived within ten minutes, unprepared.

  Clearly intent on preventing her sister from doing anything stupid.

  The entire operation had been cumbersome. Unlike her intrusion the previous week, Valeria had been rash, headstrong. The footage confirmed she had lacked the composure of her previous attempt. There had been no detailed planning or coordination; also gone was the infinite patience and firm targets. If the pictures were anything to go by, she hadn’t even decided on any definite point of entry.

  Clearly her quest had begun in anger.

  “Where are they now?”

  Eduardo wound on the footage to the point of the actual escape. Valeria had waited for Maria to follow her; he watched in silence as he saw her pass beyond the trees. Against the well-lit backdrop, he noticed his own silhouette ghosting eerily against the wall. The opportunity had been there to open fire.

  He had chosen not to take it.

  Maria caught Valeria up within moments, staying close to the ground. She passed her sister as Valeria tried to retrieve her scooter from its hiding place, eventually leaving it. He peered in for a closer view as he noticed them scrambling to avoid the latest attack, the bullets fired by the cook. Without the aid of sound, he couldn’t hear his own instructions falling on deaf ears. If the cook had had his way, the sisters would now be dead.

  Ma
ria had taken the steering wheel of the four-by-four. Debris rose wildly as the rear wheels spun through the plant life, creating a dirty mess across the road. The car accelerated violently backwards and skidded from left to right. Once under control, smoke rose from the wheels as Maria slammed the gearstick into first.

  The car rapidly disappeared beyond the hill; only at the last second did the headlights blaze into life.

  Juan had seen enough. He waited until the car disappeared before heading for the door.

  “You didn’t shoot them?”

  Eduardo was looking at him with an intrigued expression. Clearly nothing had escaped the boy.

  “A pussycat always runs when it is scared. Then, maybe, it comes back.”

  *

  Claude had remained in the archives. When Cortés returned, he found him seated at the antique desk, reading something under the light of a nearby table lamp.

  Juan’s footsteps echoed as he walked towards him.

  “Why must you always walk like you’re trying to raise the dead? I have told you many times before. Pointless aggression serves no purpose.”

  Juan smiled as he approached. “I hope for your sake, you have some good news.”

  Claude handed him the document. The first thing Juan saw was a thick brown leather folder, primitive by modern standards but far from antique. The only thing inside it was a single sheet of paper, a murky yellow material that illustrated the presence of past water stains. A white label had been placed across the top of the folder, its reference written in ink. Cortés read it, satisfied.

  It matched what Eduardo had found in the database.

  Eduardo followed Juan down the stairs. He noticed the folder in his uncle’s hands and, above it, the contents.

  Even from a distance, it was obvious the writing had become messy.

  Juan placed the letter above its folder and attempted to read it. While Juan’s anticipation was rising, it was clear to Eduardo that Claude expected far less.

  Juan’s mood suddenly changed. Eduardo watched as Juan placed the document down on the desk and stared at Claude.

  “What is it?” he asked. Brushing past Juan, he picked up the document and scanned the content for himself. The letter was written in English, addressed to Carlos.

  He couldn’t make out the signature.

  “I don’t understand. What does this mean?” he asked. It was clear from Juan’s expression he was about to explode with rage.

  “It means the Englishman has beaten us to it.”

  28

  Ben thought he was seeing things. Though he remembered trying to find Columbus’s original burial site during his first visit, the only thing he had been able to discover was that nobody seemed to know exactly where it had been located.

  The so-called ‘lost heritage’ of the city was a tragedy, not just because of the destruction of the monastery. Many important buildings had been destroyed, the old making way for the new. Whatever had once existed had been razed completely.

  And replaced by a theatre.

  Ben removed his phone from his pocket and called Colts. Getting no response on the landline, he tried Chris’s mobile.

  He answered.

  “Chris, what’s happening there?”

  At the other end, Chris sat in the backseat as the limousine made its way swiftly through the countryside. “It’s a long story. I’d love to tell it to you one day.”

  “Is Colts with you?”

  Chris glanced to his right where Colts was sitting, ready to accept the phone. “Sure is.” He handed it over.

  “Evening, Ben. Or would you prefer buenas noches?”

  “What the hell’s going on there?”

  “Well, Ben, I can either give you the short answer or the long one.”

  Ben detected another backstory. “Columbus was buried in the Convento de San Francisco in 1506 before being moved to Seville on the instructions of his son Diego. The clue Cortés left is for the original site. There’s just one problem.”

  “Let me guess? You’ve just discovered it no longer exists?”

  Ben fought the urge to rebuke. “Actually I knew full well the convent had been destroyed. What I didn’t know was what replaced it.”

  Colts grinned, developing into a laugh, irritating Ben and confusing Chris. “Well, doesn’t that just throw a big ol’ spanner in the works?”

  Ben bit his lip as he sprinted along the pavement, trying to find order amongst the chaos. The first thought that had occurred to him on speaking to Colts from Seville was that it was possible there were still tombs hidden somewhere beneath the ground, undisturbed.

  However, he now feared that was unlikely.

  “This isn’t funny, Colts; if the original site is no longer intact, it’s going to be almost impossible for us to retrieve the original emerald.”

  “You just keep your shirt on a minute. Getting all hot under the collar never helps anybody.” Colts rubbed his beard and adjusted his hat. “Just where are you two at right now?”

  “Outside something called the Teatro Zorrilla. We met a woman outside the Columbus museum. It was her who told us where to go.”

  “You’re outside the Zorrilla right now?”

  “Yes. Apparently it’s located on the exact site of the former convent.”

  “Might interest you to know, Ben, that as the monastery grew, so did the land they owned. At one time, what they owned stretched all the way from the plaza to the north to Montero Calvo to the south and Victoria to the east and Santiago to the west. Back then Calle Constitución didn’t even exist.”

  “Well, that’s mighty fine knowledge you got there, Colts. So was the woman wrong? Is the theatre not the place?”

  “Well, that depends exactly on what part of the site you’re looking for. If you wanted to pay a visit to the old church, I guess you’re out of luck.”

  Ben took a deep breath and smiled to himself. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

  “Back in 1990 when preparation for the anniversary of the 1492 discoveries was taking shape, Arthur decided we ought to pay a visit. Through a contact he had back in the city, we soon learned that some of the original structure had survived. As an authority on the subject, Arthur was invited to take a look. Little did he know the visit would prove quite interesting.”

  “What happened? You went to see a play?”

  Colts laughed. “The theatre itself was a real mess back then. In fact, when we were there, it was just a cinema. I’ll never forget the moment we walked through the doors and some spotty kid in a bow tie and a bad moustache addressed us as if he were running the place. Pointed us to the ticket office.”

  “Why? Is that where he was buried?”

  Colts laughed again. “Maybe. We sat down and watched a subtitled version of Pretty Woman. Not the first time I’d seen the film, I must admit.”

  “You went all that way to see Julia Roberts?”

  “I thought after travelling all that way it seemed a shame not to.”

  “Tell me about the discovery.”

  “The original church had gone; along with most of the side chapels. The stones were later used as part of the renovation of the city. Fortunately, however, some of the vaults remained untouched.”

  Ben felt his heart begin to beat quickly in his chest; they were on the verge of a great discovery. “How do we get in?”

  “Last time I visited, discoveries were still being made. We met the professor in charge at his office in Salamanca before making the trip to Valladolid. Turned out to be quite an eventful stay.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of any of this?” He lowered the phone away from his ear and glanced speculatively at the screen. As far as he had been able to tell, no information regarding any archaeological digs was mentioned on the Internet.

  “Ben, my boy, you still don’t get it, do you? If it was up to you, every great discovery would be just revealed instantly to everybody, no holds barred.”

  Ben gritted his teeth. “How did you
get in?”

  “Once the movie was over, we met again with the academic from Salamanca, who just so happened to be standing in the lobby. After introducing us officially to the little jerk in the bow tie, we were given a special tour of the premises.”

  “Did you apologise to the kid for your rude behaviour?”

  “Not likely, not that he had one for me either. Nevertheless, what we saw next was more interesting.”

  “Go on.”

  “First thing you have to do, Ben, is get inside. Can you do that?”

  Ben delayed his response, his attention on the nearby window. Among the posters was an advert for a concert that very night. Beginning at nine.

  He checked his watch. 20:57.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Where’s the entrance?”

  “If things haven’t changed, it can’t be entered from the Plaza Mayor. Though the façade is there, you gain entry on Calle Constitución.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ben disconnected the call and set off at high speed south of the plaza. Juliet saw him move and followed immediately.

  “What happened?”

  “What do you mean, what happened? You were eavesdropping.”

  True enough, Juliet had been standing close enough to ensure she could hear Colts’s responses clearly.

  “Whatever happened with this other academic was years ago. If the results of this excavation had been made public, believe me, I’d have known.”

  “They haven’t,” Ben agreed. “But that doesn’t mean Colts wasn’t on to something. He told us to get inside, that way he can help us.”

  “It’s nearly nine o’clock. There’s a show starting in a few minutes.”

  “Exactly. Let’s hope the ticket office is still open.”

  *

  Colts’s instruction was to head to a road called Calle Constitución. According to the historical records and layout diagrams, the road had not existed until after the monastery’s destruction. Prior to 1836, its grounds had extended twice as far south, all the way to the present Calle Montero Calvo, and included other buildings of various lay purposes. When the convent was demolished, the new Calle Constitución emerged from the rubble, its clerical purpose traded for secular.