The Jaguar Queen

by Betsey Kulakowski

  “So when do we start?”

  “Slow down.” Lauren insisted. “We still have to finish this episode, and then... we are taking at least six months off.”

  “That should give us plenty of time,” Jean-René said, as he came over and hooked his arm around Bahati’s waist. “So where do you think you’d like to go on our honeymoon?” He pulled her into him, kissing her cheek.

  Bahati’s whole face dropped. Jean-René glanced at Rowan. He reached over and took the camera. Jean-René fished a hand into his pocket as he dropped to one knee. “I saved a little something from our last project,” he said with a glint in his eye, as he opened the box. The diamond wasn’t as big as Lauren’s but, it was beautifully cut. He’d been planning this for some time. He’d been waiting for just the right moment. “Marry me?”

  “Hell yeah!” Bahati screamed, her voice sending a flurry of birds swarming from the tops of the surrounding trees.

  Henry startled, and his cry pierced the jungle. Bahati covered her mouth with her hand, looking startled. “Sorry!” She cringed.

  Rowan grinned, patting the baby to calm him, as Lauren leaned against Rowan, grinning at him. Jean-René stood and kissed his fiancée. “Come on, let’s wrap things up here. We’ve got a long drive back to Chichén Itzá. I want to check in with the team of archaeologists to see how they’re doing documenting all the artifacts,” Rowan said.

  “Are you sure you’re not too tired? We could find a hotel if you don’t want to drive back today,” Lauren said.

  “Nyah,” he insisted. “I’m good,” he said. “I just hope Henry will sleep most of the way.”

  “He’s a good little world traveler,” Bahati said, running her hand over the baby’s copper hair.

  “Well, he better be. He’s my kid.” Rowan beamed proudly. “Come on, let’s go.”

  * * *

  They spent weeks finishing up the post production of the two-hour special episode of The Veritas Codex. Lauren and Rowan had been lauded by the Mexican Government, the Maya Preservation Society, and the Historical Society of the Yucatán. The University of Mexico had taken over the archeological management of the cenote south of Chichén Itzá. Curators of the site at Chichén Itzá ultimately had control over the cavern where the treasures had been found. Those would most likely go to a museum once Lauren and Rowan and the site’s team had completed the initial cataloging of artifacts and treasures.

  The charges against Mateo were a laundry list of offenses ranging from murder, kidnapping, escape from custody, eluding capture, bribery of a government official, impersonating a police officer, and unlawful sale of antiquities. Charges had been brought against Stephanie as well. In the course of the trial it came out that Mateo and Wentworth had conspired to defraud her father.

  Lauren’s statement included Wentworth had claimed to be a victim of sexual assault at the hands of her father and that their plot had been a plan to get away from her abuser, and while that might have saved her from the most severe penalty of life in prison, it didn’t keep the jury from convicting her, as well as Mateo. She was given 30 years, with a chance of parole, while Mateo faced the death penalty for the murder of the real Dr. DeLaFuentes ... and Ria Flores-Cortez, whose body was discovered only a few weeks before the trial began.

  While their part in the discovery of the new Mayan calendar and the treasures that accompanied it was made know to the public, their role in the capture of a fugitive and his accomplice remained a secret they were sworn too. Lauren was happy about that. They were able to video record their statements and depositions, so they could bask in the limelight of their great accomplishment.

  But the moment was bittersweet. The Network had bigger and better plans for television’s top-rated travel-adventure power-couple. A new discovery awaited them with their brand new, family-themed travel show; one that would be produced between seasons of The Veritas Codex.

  They had time before production of the pilot would begin, but they were also overdue to start their maternity/paternity leave. That was their first priority once they finished here.

  “I’ve been thinking about your idea about finding a place outside California,” Rowan said, as he packed up their equipment and Lauren sat feeding the baby.

  She lifted her head, a euphoric look on her face. “What’s that?”

  “Well, buying a house is a serious commitment,” he said. “I know we talked about putting down roots, and I still think we should, but since the market is so sketchy in San Diego, I thought maybe we could rent for a while.”

  “But our lease is almost up ...” Lauren started, but Rowan lifted a finger to silence her.

  “You wanted to maybe find a house in Hawaii,” Rowan began. “Why don’t we rent a place and see if we like it.”

  “But Hawaii is so expensive,” Lauren said.

  “Can’t possibly be any more expensive than San Diego,” he shrugged. “Besides, if we’re right there in San Diego, Jacob won’t leave us alone long enough to enjoy our leave. You know that, right?” Lauren was quiet for a moment, but Rowan could see she was processing the idea. He expected her to protest, but he had a plan. “Never mind. It’s a lousy idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Rowan suddenly switched speeds, making her think he thought she didn’t like the idea.

  “No,” she said, abruptly. “It’s not a lousy idea. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics.”

  “Look.” Rowan came over and sat down beside her. “Logistics is my department. You let me work out the details.”

  Lauren gazed at him a moment, then nodded. “If you can make it work, I won’t say no.”

  * * *

  The rented bungalow overlooked the windward side of the Big Island. It was the home she’d envisioned while searching the real estate websites all those months back in California. The exterior was painted a beautiful Caribbean blue, with white trim. There was a wrap-around lanai, which included a screened in room where she’d hung a cradle for Henry, next to his-and-hers rocking chairs. There was also a small breakfast table where they often enjoyed their morning coffee, grown just a few miles away. It was roasted fresh, and Rowan ground it himself. He quickly perfected an excellent cup of Kona’s best.

  Beautiful birds-of-paradise grew in clumps around the raised porch, along with plumeria bushes, which perfumed the air. There were tall yellow hibiscus trees, known as Ma’o Hau Hele, in the native tongue and the bright red berry producing Ohelo Kau La’au shrubs surrounding the property. Of course, the landlord had to point out each of the plants and explain their origins. Lauren was an attentive pupil. The retired schoolteacher seemed happy to impart his knowledge each time he stopped by to check on them.

  * * *

  Lauren stood in the kitchen with the windows thrown open wide, watching the late-afternoon rain coming in off the ocean. She could hear the thud of Rowan’s boots on the deck as he came up the stairs and entered with Henry in the pack on his chest. They’d made it home just before the daily deluge. They were just in time for supper.

  The sun often started setting around seven, and Lauren found her circadian rhythms resetting to the daily routines of caring for her son. While Henry had arrived early and had been considered small at birth, it hadn’t taken him any time to gain healthy round cheeks, and dimples much like his father. His hair was a thin mist of copper, but the wise gaze in his dark blue eyes were proof that he was also his mother’s son, despite the fact that he looked remarkably like a smaller version of his father.

  “How was your hike?” Lauren asked, coming over to help Rowan get the pack off his shoulders without upending Henry. The baby had been nodding off, but he brightened when he saw his momma. “Hi,” Lauren grinned at him. He grinned back.

  “We had fun,” Rowan said. “We picked mangoes and got chased by a rooster.” He produced the mangoes from the pocket on his hoodie.

  “Ooh.” She, took Henry and lifting him to her shoulder before she took the mango and sniffed the perfectly ripened fruit. “That smells deli
cious.”

  “We can have them in our fruit salad for dessert,” he said. “What’s for dinner?”

  “What do you think?” Lauren asked.

  “Moco loco?” He lifted a brow. “Third time this week.”

  “Well.” She lifted a shoulder unapologetically. “When in Rome...”

  “Smells delicious,” he said. “Want me to hold him while you eat?”

  “No,” Lauren said. “Go ahead and make yourself a plate, I’ll feed him and put him to bed before I eat.”

  * * *

  After Henry was safely tucked into his bassinet, Lauren sat at the counter while Rowan warmed a plate up for her in the microwave. When it was done, she ate. He stood across from her, cutting up the mangoes, along with some pineapple, and papayas. He’d already opened a coconut and had the sweet white flesh cut into long, thick curls in the bowl.

  “We’ll have to start thinking about going back to work soon,” Lauren sighed, as she ate. The cool breeze off the sea tossed her hair back. “I’m going to miss this place.”

  “You won’t have too,” Rowan said. “While I was out this morning, I made a stop at the rental office.”

  Lauren’s brow lifted. “You did?”

  “The rental agent was able to contact the owner to see if he was interested in selling,” Rowan said, popping a chunk of coconut flesh into his mouth. He grinned as he chewed. “He was. So, the place is all ours if we want it.”

  “What?” Lauren’s face lit up. “Are you serious?”

  “Serious as a shark attack.”

  “Rowan, can we afford to buy a house here? We won’t be able to stay here that often anyway. We are planning on going back to work when Henry’s older.” She had a list of arguments and could have kept going.

  Rowan caught her hand and silenced her.

  A twinkle sparked in his eye. “Actually, we can afford it,” he said. “I negotiated a fair price and I’ve already talked to the bank. Besides, we can always rent it out when we’re off on business. Tourists will pay good money through home-sharing apps, and no one will ever know it’s our house. The extra income isn’t needed, but it could make the house payment considering how much we travel.”

  “You’ve really given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” She softened.

  “I have,” he said. “Besides, what’s travel without a home to come to. And if there’s anything more precious than our time, and where we spend it, it’s who we spend it with. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be, and no one else I’d rather make a home with.”

  “Oh, Rowan,” Lauren jumped to her feet and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you. We have a home.”

  “Now, about that dog...”

  Afterword

  Thank you for reading The Jaguar Codex. If you enjoyed it, please post a review where you purchased it.

  The next book in the series will be released in May 2021.

  Preview of The Alien Accord (Book 3 in The Veritas Codex series)

  “Extraterrestrial aliens definitely exist,” the Russian astronaut said in his thick accent. He gazed unblinking into the camera. It was his first interview on American television. While he visibly trembled with nerves, he spoke with the authority of a man who knew something he wasn’t supposed to know; wasn’t supposed to tell. “And they live among us ... or have probably lived among us at one time.” The reporter seemed to hesitate, but the astronaut continued. “There are billions of stars in the universe ... so many that there must be different forms of life. Are they just like us? Made up of carbon and nitrogen? Do they breathe oxygen? Nyet. Probably not.”

  “Dr. Budnikov, have you ...seen them?” The reporter recovered and found his voice. “With your own eyes?”

  The gray-haired astronaut hesitated. “I’ve seen things I cannot explain. Things my government does not want me to tell.”

  “But you defected in 1986. Was that because you were afraid something would happen to you if you talked?”

  “Da,” he nodded. “I had no choice. I know too much.”

  “You reportedly saw the wreckage of a downed alien craft in a remote region of the Soviet Union back in the late 1970s. Can you tell us more?”

  “Da,” he said, nodding. His eyes lifted towards the camera, his countenance seeming to collapse in on himself as he spoke with hesitation. “I was a young soldier on my first assignment. We were told not to talk about it. I took pictures, even though it was against the rules. I never told anyone.”

  An image came up on the cutout behind the reporter then expanded to fill the whole screen. It was a grainy photo, poorly lit and the main features were not well-centered in the frame. It looked like the saucer section of the Starship Enterprise; half buried, scorched, and crumpled, in the stark Siberian landscape. Clearly, the landing hadn’t been easy. “1979? Dr. Budnikov, why haven’t you come forward with this information until now?”

  He hesitated. “For the safety of my family, I felt it was best not disclose what I knew. I know what can happen to someone who talks.”

  “Why now?”

  “Before this vessel crashed, we begin receiving radio signals deep from space,” he swallowed hard. His eyes shifted. “Then, they just stopped.” He glanced at something off camera. “But now ... the signals ...they’re back.”

  “What kind of signals?” The reporter’s brow furrowed.

  “Alien signals ...” he said. “A message from the cosmos.” He lifted his hand to make an arc over his head, but mid-arc he turned and dropped his hand abruptly. His whole countenance collapsed, and he sucked in a breath as he paled.

  Shouts and shuffles echoed off camera, and then the camera rocked as if it had been struck. The reporter looked away from the astronaut and fear filled her eyes. There were gunshots, and the camera shook violently on its tripod as it was hit hard, then fell over, the lens cracking with an audible crunch. Someone screamed. More gunshots echoed and bodies hit the floor. The astronaut landed just in the frame of the camera; a stunned expression faded to a blank stare. A single red circle marred his forehead, blood tricked from the gaping hole.

  #

  Michael sat back from the computer monitor. His heart had skipped a number of beats and seemed to vibrate in his throat. A cold sweat broke out on his upper lip. A shiver washed through him. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself. Nothing could have prepared him for having to watch a friend and colleague being assassinated. “When was this?” He bowed his head and took a deep breath.

  “Just a couple of days ago,” Dr. India Cameron said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder as she stood behind him.

  “Has this been on the news?”

  “Not widely,” India said. “Sasha found it on the internet. He was able to save the video before it was taken down. He sent it to me through our secure webmail system.”

  Michael stood and paced behind his desk, fighting for his composure. He turned his back on the room, leaning heavily on the credenza by the window. A trembling breath escaped his throat before he straightened and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I’m sorry I have to ask, Michael. But when was the last time you talked to Alexei?” India asked.

  It took him a moment to find his voice. “Last week,” Michael ran a shaky hand over his face. “He called and said he was sending me some files and asked me to look at them. I expected them to come through email, but ... they never came. I tried texting him, but ...”

  “Did you talk to him about what we are working on? Did you mention Project Morning Star?” She lowered her voice.

  “No. I didn’t tell him anything,” Michael said. He glanced at her with cautious reservation. “But I did ask him about his work.”

  “Did you ask him about the signals he was studying?” She asked. “The ones he mentioned in this interview?”

  Michael pursed his lips and looked away, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that his colleague was dead. No one expected anything like this, least of al
l Michael. “Yeah,” he finally said. “From what he told me; it sounds exactly like what we’ve been working on.”

  “Did you tell anyone you talked to him?”

  “No,” Michael said. For the first time it occurred to him that he might now be a target.

  “How did you talk to him?”

  “He called me,” Michael said. “On my cellphone. I don’t know if he called from his office, his home or his cellphone though.”

  There was a long moment of silence as the project director leaned on his desk and folded her arms over her chest. Her red power suit strained over her pencil-thin frame. She poked her glasses with a manicured nail, pushing them up her equally thin nose. “This might be a good time for you to make yourself scarce,” Michael’s boss said. “You’ve been wanting to take a sabbatical, right?”

  “I have?” Michael puzzled. India gave him a look that told him she had something up her sleeve. “Oh,” he nodded. “Yeah, I have. I haven’t been back to the states in quite some time.”

  “Your leave is approved,” she said. “Don’t take anything related to the project. Maybe this would be a good time to go make a visit to NASA. Our grant application is coming due in a few months. It might be nice to build relationships, make some friends. With all the funding cuts from other agencies, we need their support.”

  “I haven’t been to Houston in a while,” Michael said, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to do, and how to make the most of his time back in the States.

  “Don’t feel pressured to hurry,” she said. “We’re locking down everything ‘til this blows over. Project Morning Star is now suspended until further notice.”

  Michael nodded. “Maybe I can get a hold of my sister ... if she’ll even talk to me. She might be of some help on this project...”

  “If she’ll talk to you? Why wouldn’t she talk to you?” India eyed him dubiously.