“Right. Today we’re going to check out San Lorenzo. If that’s a bust, we’ll head up to La Venta.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Paulie said. “Be careful.”
“You might want to check if your health insurance covers you in Mexico,” Simon told him. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
He hung up and said, “Morning. Sleep well?”
Jillian walked past him to put her toiletries in her bag. “The most sleep I’ve had in a week.” Then she turned to him. “Thank you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “For what? Not jumping you? Granted, it was a huge sacrifice.”
A blush bloomed on her face. “For that and for . . .” She hesitated. “For understanding.”
“No problem.” He grabbed his bag.
“And, Simon?”
He stopped to look at her.
“I’d like to be present next time you call Paulie.” She batted her eyelashes. “For the entire conversation.”
Simon studied her. “You don’t trust me?”
She crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Do you really want to address that particular issue? Because that could take all day.”
He grinned. “True.” This was getting fun. “So how do you propose to keep an eye on me when you’re in the shower?”
A smile spread across her face as she met his gaze and then gave his naked body a long once-over that turned up the heat, not that he needed the added encouragement.
“Live in fear, Simon.”
The boat ride down the Chiquito River to Tenochtitlán, the oldest of the Olmec ceremonial sites at San Lorenzo, was hot and sticky and crowded with tourists by the time they boarded at noon. Jillian watched the lowlands coast by and wondered how the Olmecs could have carved a complex of waterways and a city this large by hand and sheer will.
The morning spent at the San Lorenzo museum had been thrilling, with Olmec heads, pieces of stone pipes, and remnants of statues and altars that had survived the bitter siege of the Olmec people in 900 B.C. Even Simon had behaved himself.
Yet her excitement had ebbed when she had failed to see the priest or any of the stonecutters on the grounds. Or anything at all.
She tried to control her growing fear. For the first time, her vision was failing her, and she didn’t know why. Maybe she was tired or stressed from the chaotic tilt her life had taken. How rotten would it be to lose her damn vision when she needed it most?
“You’re quiet,” Simon said as he leaned close to her ear. “Something wrong?”
She should tell him the truth, but she couldn’t face his disappointment, either. Besides, they were going to the actual archaeological site, so perhaps that would improve her vision. She smiled over her shoulder, where he was standing behind her holding on to an overhead bar. “Just a little drained from the heat. You?”
He cast a quick glance around at the other passengers. “So far, so good. But if you notice anyone taking a special interest in us, let me know.”
She eyed him. “You gonna rough him up?”
His gaze cut to hers. “You want I should call in my friend Rocco, instead?”
She gave a laugh. “That scares me, because I’m pretty sure you’re serious.”
He grinned and looked out over the flat river basin. “Naw. No friends named Rocco.”
That was probably true, Jillian thought. His world of “friends” seemed awfully small.
The boat slowed and docked along the edge of the muddy river. As they walked up the embankment toward the site, her heart sank. The ruins were little more than earthen mounds and grass. Active archaeological excavations were under way in the distance, and a tour guide was leading most of the sightseers toward the more interesting finds.
“Not much left of the Olmecs here,” Simon noted astutely. “Where do you want to start?”
“South,” she said, although she wasn’t quite sure why.
He nodded, and they tracked across the plain to the south. Scraggly trees and scrub soon blocked out the others.
After fighting underbrush for ten minutes, they stepped into a wide, grassy clearing. Jillian pulled the lens from her shorts pocket and scanned the plain. Nothing. She closed her eyes, knowing that Simon was waiting patiently for her verdict.
“We need to keep moving,” she told him and took the lead. She didn’t know where she was going but didn’t worry about getting lost. If they got disoriented, all they had to do was head east and find the river.
After ten more minutes, they entered another clearing with an expansive view of the distant mountains. Jillian said a silent prayer and drew the lens out again. For a few long moments, nothing happened. Then a familiar prickle flowed across her skin. Yes.
Everything faded from the edges inward until all she could see was the tiny world captured in the lens. Then that tiny world became everything. The landscape changed as ancient peoples marched by in a long procession. Drumbeats rose in her ears, voices chanting. Elaborate feather headdresses crowned the shaved heads of men, women, and children as they danced in single file. The chant strengthened, and she felt herself swaying to the hypnotic rhythm.
I know this, she thought, anticipating the cadence and phrasing. Drawn deeper into the vortex, she felt at one with the people. Her eyes grew heavy and nearly closed, but then she heard him calling her.
She forced her eyes open. The priest stood before her. He spoke slowly and with great passion.
I don’t understand, she tried to tell him after a few moments, but her mouth was heavy and sluggish, and the words wouldn’t come.
Please tell me where it is. I need to know, she begged.
He stood and pointed behind him. She lifted the lens to the mountain range and froze. A column of blue light shone brightly from just beyond the ridge.
The light. The archives.
She brought the lens back to him, but he was gone. The world fell away, the ancients blurred, the chant faded, leaving only her name ringing in her ears.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER
20
Simon couldn’t bring her back. He checked his watch. She’d been passed out for five minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime. There was no color in her skin, and her breathing was shallow. Against the green grass, she looked like death.
“Come on, babe,” he whispered, his voice raw as he poured water onto his wadded-up shirt and pressed it to her forehead again. She moaned softly. He drizzled more water over her scalp and mentally calculated how long it would take him to run back to the main site to get help. If she didn’t come to in the next thirty seconds—
Her eyes fluttered open, and he thanked God. Which was damn big, because he hadn’t talked to God in a long time.
Slowly, Jillian’s eyes focused on him. Color rose in her cheeks. She licked her dry lips. “Hey.”
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
She laughed weakly. “Just my pride.”
He helped her to a sitting position and gave her some water. That’s when he realized his hands were shaking. Sweat ran down his face and chest. He was a wreck.
Jillian stared at him. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. I just wish this was scotch. What happened?”
Her eyes widened as if she just remembered. She scrambled a little unsteadily to her feet and scanned the vicinity, one hand gripping his arm for support. She pointed a line across the field. “They were here. A ceremonial procession, I think. Then the priest appeared. He showed me—”
Jillian stopped and faced south, standing perfectly still. “What’s over those mountains?”
He frowned, not liking the direction. “Southern Oaxaca. Why?”
She turned to look at him, her eyes bright. “That’s where it is.”
Simon stared at her in disbelief. “How do you know?”
“Because that’s where the light is. It wasn’t just a glow in the sky. It’s a beam, a beacon for the Archives of Man.”
He looked from the mountains to La Venta, their next stop
in the opposite direction. Mancuso had said to stick to the Olmecs. There were no known Olmec sites in the direction Jillian wanted to go.
“You have to trust me, Simon,” she said as if reading his mind. Her gaze held steady and sure.
Time is running out.
“I know I’m right,” she added.
Celina’s life is on the line. And then it occurred to him that Jillian was aware of all those things, too. They meant as much to her as they did to him. She was willing to step off the path, and she wouldn’t do that unless she was absolutely certain.
Trust me, her eyes begged silently. Because she knew how hard this was for him.
He said, “Then we head south.”
Simon leaned on the front grille and watched the traffic zip by no more than ten feet from the gas station. A young kid pumped gas into the Jeep under the canopy of corrugated steel. The old filling station was like many in Mexico—built cheaply, deteriorating, and boasting everything from gas to tires to questionable food. A giant mound of used and abused tires edged up to the road. Old dogs lay in the shade. Dust rose with every step. And they were heading south.
He still couldn’t believe it. This is what he wanted her to do—tell him where the treasure was. To lead him. So why did his stomach twist every time he thought about it? Maybe it was because he was afraid of what would happen to her next time she used the lens. Because he sure wasn’t looking forward to it.
The young attendant finished pumping gas, and Simon paid him. The boy eyed the generous tip and disappeared in a flash. Simon got in and parked the Jeep on the side of the building before heading inside to see how Jillian was doing.
He could hear her voice as he quietly pushed the screen door open. Bottles of water sat on the counter between her and a Mexican man in his fifties who was concentrating on every Spanish word she was trying to say.
Simon crossed his arms and leaned against a wooden column to enjoy the show.
“No petro,” Jillian said again, using her hands to try to help in the translation. “Cebu.”
The man smiled and nodded as Jillian kept asking for an ox before finally noticing Simon. He pointed to the steamed tamales in the case behind the man. His eyes widened in comprehension, and he waved to the case. “Ah. Cebo. Tengo solamente tamales.”
Jillian said, “Si, si. Muy bueno. Cuatro tamales, por favor.”
While the man bagged the tamales, Simon came up behind her. “How’s it going?”
She turned, beaming. “I just ordered dinner. I think my Spanish is improving.”
He smiled back. “I guess it is.” Then he took the bag from the man and gave him a few extra pesos for his patience and kindness. “Gracias.”
Jillian said, “I just need to use the restroom. Be right out.”
Simon went to the Jeep and tossed the bag in the backseat. He was about to climb in when he spotted a police car driving by from the north. One of the two officers inside looked at him and said something to the driver, and the car immediately slowed down.
“Shit,” Simon said softly. Not now.
Jillian stepped outside with an armful of water bottles, and he held his hand up. She stopped in her tracks, her smile fading as she looked around. “What?”
The police car made a U-turn, kicking up dirt, and headed back to the station. Simon half turned and pretended to be rolling down the door window as he put the keys under the mat. “Get back inside, Jillian. Lock yourself in the bathroom and don’t come out until everything quiets down. Keys are under the mat. Anything you need is in the Jeep.”
“No,” she said, shaken but stubbornly standing her ground.
He didn’t argue with her. He just shut the door and walked past her to face the cops.
“Trust me,” he said as the police car stopped right in front of him.
Jillian stepped back inside the station, frantically trying to figure out what to do next. She peeked out a grimy window and saw two officers get out of their car to talk to Simon.
What if they had discovered the dead Mexican? What if they tied him back to Simon? No way was she going to leave him alone, and no way she going to let them take him away.
Think, Jillian. Think.
She’d seen the Jeep was parked on the side, twenty feet from the door, but it was in sight of the cops. There was one entrance on the side and one in front, which made neither safe to use. What she needed was a back door. She skirted around the racks and aisles. The man behind the counter was reading a newspaper and hadn’t seemed to notice the police car yet.
She slipped into the back room, where crates were stacked to the ceiling. The back door creaked a little as she pushed it and stepped into the blinding sunlight. Tires littered the entire rear lot behind the building, piled twenty feet high in places.
She ran to the corner of the building and looked around it. No sign of Simon or the cops, but she wouldn’t make it to the Jeep without them seeing her. The Jeep was out, for now.
Male voices rose, and her pulse raced. She had to help him. What would Raven do?
She crinkled her nose. Well, for one, Raven would have weapons. No weapons here. Just water bottles.
She lay her head back against the building. What now?
That’s when she spotted an old, rusted-out truck sitting on a worn dirt path that wound around the tire mountains. The truck looked ancient but big and powerful. An idea began to form. It was crazy. It probably wouldn’t even work.
The conversation out front grew louder and more heated.
She dropped the water bottles to the ground and ran back inside. She might not be Raven, but she could come close.
Simon was in big trouble, and he knew it. The officers were becoming increasingly agitated at his lack of cooperation. They kept looking at the Jeep and checking his identification. For some reason, they weren’t buying the tourist line.
All he wanted to do was get out of this as quickly and quietly as possible. He opened his wallet and made a show of the money he had inside. Neither one of them bit.
Just his luck. Honest cops.
When he heard them say, “Come with us,” he knew this would get ugly. Still, chances were good they’d leave the Jeep alone and Jillian could get out safely.
Simon was about to put his life in the hands of fate when a rumbling sound as loud as a freight train rose from behind the building. The roar grew, accompanied by a chorus of belching and pops that sounded a lot like gunfire.
One of the cops stepped back to investigate. A plume of dust swept around the building from the rear. Dogs whimpered under chairs, and a horrendous, tortured, screaming whine permeated the air.
It grew louder and closer. Then the pile of tires by the side of the road exploded, sending bouncing projectiles in all directions. The road quickly became a deadly obstacle course as cars screeched to stops in both directions. The two cops scrambled for their car, yelling at each other.
Then the Jeep backed up behind him in a cloud of dust with Jillian at the wheel. She reached around and opened the rear door.
“Get in,” she yelled.
He threw himself in as the Jeep lurched forward. The door slammed shut, and he lost his balance when they took a hard right.
It wasn’t until he got on his knees that he learned why. They were fishtailing on a dirt road behind the building.
“Where are we going?”
Jillian was concentrating fiercely on the rough road, while still managing to hit every pothole. “Trust me.”
Like he had a choice. He looked behind him. No cops. Yet. It wouldn’t take long. When he turned back around, they hit a low ditch that sent the Jeep airborne. It bounced once on the road pavement and vaulted into the other ditch.
Simon’s head smacked the roof, and then he skidded right as Jillian wrenched the Jeep around and onto the road.
“Take it easy, Jillian.”
“If you don’t have anything constructive to add, then be quiet,” she snapped.
When he finally pulled himself ont
o the backseat, he checked the carnage in their wake. Through a screen of dust, tires littered the road between them and the flashing lights of the cop car. An old pickup truck was buried in the pile. People were out of their cars and wandering around.
Simon rubbed the lump on his head and climbed between the seats to drop into the passenger side. Jillian’s hands were white on the steering wheel. Both of them were breathing hard in the silence.
“Did you get the tamales?” she asked.
He pulled a map from the glove box. “In the back. Think I landed on them, though.” He checked the rearview mirror. No red lights. Always a good sign.
“They’re probably still fine.” She handed him a water bottle. “Thirsty?”
He took a big swallow and handed it back to her. She finished it in one gulp and tossed it over her shoulder carelessly. A few more minutes of silence followed.
“Take a right at the next turnoff, about ten miles away. We need to get off the main road for a while.”
She nodded once, eyes glued to the road, fingers glued to the wheel. “Good thinking.”
“Wanna fill me in on what just happened?” he asked. “Or save it until we get some tequila?”
“Oh, we’re definitely picking up some tequila.” She regripped the wheel, and the Jeep lurched unevenly along.
He waited.
She blinked a few times and finally said, “I paid the guy behind the counter one hundred dollars for his truck. Drove it out behind the building, put it in drive, set a cement block on top of the accelerator, and jumped out.”
He stared at her in wonder. “Brilliant move aiming it for the tires.”
“Thank you. It’s actually a little frightening how easily it came into my mind. I just wanted to cause a distraction and block the road long enough for us to disappear.”
Simon started grinning, then chuckling, which gave way to a full belly laugh. After a few moments, Jillian smiled.
“One hundred dollars,” he said, still amazed. “Never underestimate.”
“What?” she asked, taking her eyes off the road for the first time. The Jeep swerved onto the shoulder and nearly flipped before Jillian pulled the wheel around. “Sorry.”
Then he remembered something that made him more nervous than he’d been all day. She couldn’t drive. Anything she’d learned was from watching him. His gut instinct told him to tell her to pull over and let him take the wheel.
Out of Time Page 18
