by Howard Upton
“On some level, I understand. But what about using that same power to destroy? Was that practiced by the ancients too, Lao Shi?” pressed Dugan.
“Of course. In all cultures there have been those who have yearned to rule over others. Although the old teachers understood how to reverse the positive energy they gave in order to destroy, I’m happy to say that most refused to teach that element of their art. Unfortunately, there were, and still are, those who prefer to profit from the darker side of their art.”
Dugan’s heart raced, but he fought to contain himself as he continued his line of questioning.
“Can chi be directed to inanimate objects, similarly as it is to living beings?” he asked the old man who was now staring at him intently.
“That’s an interesting question, Mr. Dugan. I suppose only the most advanced healer and practitioner would be capable of forcing his will on an object, but I suspect that object would be used as a means to capture the chi or incantation. It is similar to the Caribbean practice of voodoo, if you will, when a doll or object is used to help the spiritual practitioner focus energy onto a person.”
“I see,” Dugan said, his mind awhirl. “Kind of like a wizard’s wand or a witch’s broom.”
“Yes, similar to that. Or perhaps like a statue of Buddha or a Christian cross. These items contain within them all the prayers sent their way. This is what makes a place holy. You feel the power of a truly spiritual place when you enter it, not because of its physical address, but because of the spiritual energy captured within it.
“Now, Mr. Dugan, I’m afraid that is all the time I have today. I hope what I’ve told you will be beneficial when you write your article about my home country,” Loi said as he began to rise.
“Just a couple more questions, please,” Dugan requested.
“Please hurry, Mr. Dugan. I have other matters to attend to. I’m certain you understand.”
“Yes sir, I understand. Thank you.” Dugan pushed on. “Can the power housed in the focal object be harnessed by another, and if so how is that done?”
Loi studied the man carefully, sensing something not quite right with him, but he answered anyway, if for no other reason than to have him leave as quickly as possible. “Only the person who focused the energy, or a family member, can control it.”
“A family member? A blood relative?” Dugan said aloud but mostly to himself.
“Correct, Mr. Dugan. Be well and be safe,” Loi said as he rose and walked to the back of the temple.
Mexico City, Mexico
July 17, 2013 1:06 P.M.
Roper was preparing to leave his room when his phone rang. The number was a familiar one, Buddy’s. He heard a pop in the line followed by a brief hiss. “Go,” was the simple greeting he offered his counterpart.
“Go? What kind of nonsense is go? That’s not a very welcoming or nice greeting for the feller who’s calling you to give you information, Young Buck,” Buddy’s thick Appalachian twang bellowed.
“Is the line secure?” Roper asked.
“Does a cat have climbing gear?” Buddy asked.
“Why the hell are you calling me? I was about to go check the board. You’re like a bad date who keeps calling after I’ve told her to leave me alone,” quipped Roper.
“It couldn’t wait. I needed to get you this information pronto, amigo, besides, if we were dating, you’d have me on speed dial.”
“The board would have been fine, but go ahead anyway,” Roper said while ignoring Buddy’s verbal jabs.
“Alright, first things first. The picture you sent is a known gun runner and two bit thug. His name is Rafael Umberto Chao. Apparently, he’s done quite a bit of work for Dugan over the years, from peddling arms to the border, running coke from Guatemala to American border towns, to murder. He’s a street savvy feller and a loner. I couldn’t find a lot of history on him other than he grew up poor as hell in the Yucatan region of Mexico. He doesn’t cross the border because he’s smart enough to know he’ll do hard prison time or someone will bust a cap right in his Mexican ass.”
“That’s all good information, Buddy. You said his last name is Ciao, like “see you later” in Italian?”
“I figured you’d pick up on that pretty quickly, amigo. No, it’s not ciao like the Italians say it, it’s c-h-a-o,” he spelled the name out for him. He let Roper soak in what this might mean.
“I don’t understand. Was his dad Chinese? That name isn’t Latino at all. This fucking case gets stranger by the minute, Buddy,” said Roper with an exasperated breath.
Buddy answered him, “Nah. As far as I can tell, both his parents were as Mexican as tamales. Like I said, I don’t have a lot of history on him, but it looks like he’s been arrested a few times for minor things in Mexico, managed to pay his way out of trouble and still work for Dugan.”
“What the hell does this mean, Buddy? You know I’m a global guy, but I’m used to names like Hernandez, Lopez, Garcia and shit like that in the Spanish speaking world. How does a Mexican guy wind up with a Chinese last name if he’s one hundred fucking percent Mexican?” Roper continued to ask.
“There’s the crux, ole boy. I had the same questions you just prattled off to me, so I did some more research. You sitting down for this?”
Roper sat down on the edge of his bed. “I am now. Shoot.”
“Brother, it would seem that there are Mexicans and Guatemalans running around all over the place with names like Chao, Chen, Chan. Seems a lot of these folks somehow managed to comingle with some Chinese folks at some point and time. I ain’t playing around, and you’re right, this shit is getting weirder, but we need to stay focused on the task at hand.”
“You’re kidding me? Mexicans running around with names like that? I have no idea how that happened, but does that explain the cartouche being Chinese in origin?” Roper questioned.
“Could very well explain why the damned thing seems to be of Chinese origin yet wound up in Mexico, but here’s something more I just learned. Apparently, those people have been there for generations...for possibly two thousand years. You hear me? It looks like a lot of the Mayans had Chinese names and they carried on to modern times. Mayans with Chinese names making cartouches, ain’t that something? Now it gets stranger, Buck.
It seems there are only two places in the world that cartouches were made in ancient times – Egypt and the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. What amazes me even more are the similarities in pyramid construction and genetics. Both cultures had a serious propensity for building pyramids, staring at stars and doing math. Their slanted eyes and dark complexions may just be a coincidence, or perhaps some of the Chinese culture migrated from China into those areas a long damned time ago. Everyone considers Africa to be the cradle of civilization, but that may not be true.
Now, I’m no scientist and maybe I’m just reaching here, but if that’s true, a lot of history is going to have to be rewritten, and a lot of what we know today will be questioned. Things like religion and what happened to the dinosaurs and shit. You hear me, amigo?”
Roper laughed and asked, “What the hell do the dinosaurs have to do with this?”
“Nothing. I just thought I would throw that in there,” said Buddy with a chuckle.
“Okay, what else do you have for me?” Roper pressed on.
“Everyone that’s flown in and out of Monterrey since the theft has checked out, including all the Americans, so I looked even further for booking dates to see what I could find. There’s a reservation on the morning of the twenty-second for a Donald Haden. This Haden doesn’t have any background information, employment, arrest record, car registration. He’s a ghost...a phantom, which makes it very likely he’s our boy flying down to grab the jewel. I can’t find any return information on him though, so I don’t know what his plans are beyond that.”
“That’s perfect, Buddy. I have plenty of time to track down the current cartouche holder or intercept Dugan at the airport. I might even see what he would look like in a state o
f rigor mortis. I’ll do that for free, you know what I mean?”
“The focus is getting our hands on the cartouche, Young Buck. Let’s try not to start an international incident at a Mexican airport, okay?” Buddy stated this more than he asked.
Xi’an, Shaanxi, China
July 20th, 2013 5:30 A.M.
From the west the sun crept over the mountains and poured its light on the sleepy valley so far removed from the hustle and bustle of the coastal cities of China. The quiet canals flowed through the town as it started to come to life. Gray and brownstone buildings saturated the cityscape, as they did throughout the vast country. Some people dressed in the same colors as the buildings in which they lived and worked. They performed their morning ritual of tai chi, the age-old form of exercise and, some believed, method of fighting and defense.
Even though it was summer time in the northern hemisphere, a cool wind blew from the north, an almost human moan springing from the gust as it whipped through the mountains. A few people practicing their moving meditation actually shivered, some feeling a strange sense of inevitability on the heels of the draft. Others, their heads askew, turned in the direction of the northern mountains trying to hear what the wind was trying to tell them.
In a long-abandoned and overgrown area outside the city at the base of a mountain, a lone stone statue stood, its moss and bird feces covered face one of agony. The same blustery gust of wind swept over the statue as a ripple seemed to float across its chest. Had someone been there when that cold wind drifted over the warrior and his steed, they would have sworn, for just a second, that it moved. And had someone been there when that cold wind drifted across the statue’s face, they would have thought they heard it moan.
In a manmade pyramid just a few kilometers away, the same ripple appeared to no one in particular. Thousands of stone warrior statues standing at attention inside its base teetered as the gust blew over them.
Monterrey, Mexico
July 21, 2013 11:12 A.M.
Roper spent two days driving unfamiliar roads from Mexico City to Monterrey, a cumulative of 1,057 kilometers. He took it easy while driving, not wanting to arouse suspicion concerning why he was leaving the metropolitan area to go to Monterrey, as his cover story given at the airport would be blown. Tucked into his waistband in the small of his back was the reassuring pressure of the Colt 1911 with a stubbed silencer and laser sites. This had been included in the supply bag Javier had given him, and it gave him some sense of security as he spent more time in the unfamiliar and rogue nation.
After arriving in Monterrey on the nineteenth, he knew he would have time to do some research, so he made his way to the Rain Forest cyber café not far from his hotel. What he found kept him mesmerized for a couple of hours. Roper knew that every culture builds temples to appease their gods. The thought of getting closer to God or the heavens has been documented since the dawn of man; however, few realize that only certain cultures built pyramids to honor their gods. Fewer still understood the complexities of creating a written language made up of hieroglyphs, rather than an alphabet. And even fewer still wrote about their gods arriving to Earth in what appeared to be spaceships. The Mayans and the Egyptians had all of those things in common.
As Roper continued to read he made mental notes of similarities between the two ancient cultures. Incredible math skills and application of math in their respective architecture, an infatuation with mythical dragon creatures, the use of jade in ceremony, language similarities, shamanistic practices and even facial resemblances were all uncanny. But what Buddy had told him earlier chewed at his mind incessantly...Chinese surnames are found throughout old Maya or new southern Mexico.
He further researched the last names of the Mexican Yucatan peninsula and found that numerous Chinese names existed. I guess this could be a coincidence, but the rest of this stuff adds up to some weird shit, Roper thought to himself. This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever found, and damn it, and I have seen some weird shit.
He delved further into his research and studied all three cultures and their temples, more specifically their pyramids. What he found floored him. Rumors of primeval pyramids existed in China prior to World War II. At long last, some exploration deep into China occurred and confirmation of their existence became public knowledge; unfortunately photographic evidence was all but nonexistent. Of course, as the world changed and the internet evolved, pictures became available on the World Wide Web, or as Roper called it, the world’s brain, and more and more people began seeing them. Still, China denied the pyramids existed, insisting that theirs was a culture of Asian temples and pagodas. What the Chinese couldn’t explain, they denied.
What people saw was a photo taken by a U.S. Air Force pilot, James Gaussman, in 1945, of a pyramid that appeared to be missing its top, similar to the pyramid featured on the back of the United States one dollar bill with the all seeing eye floating just above the incomplete temple. The Chinese pyramid sat just outside the country’s early capital, Xi’an.
“Satellite imaging,” he continued reading, “has now allowed those outside China’s borders to see aerial shots of pyramids with trees growing on them, intentionally planted by the government to hide them from public view. During his research, he discovered that Thailand also had pyramids.” Damn. Egypt, the Maya, Thailand and China. All of these cultures built pyramids. Why is that? What else do they have in common, Roper wondered?
“China’s Xi’an pyramids were aligned with the constellation of Orion. The pyramids of Giza in Egypt were also built and aligned with the constellation of Orion. Only Chichen Itza in old Maya did not align with a star constellation, but its position allowed for a strange optical illusion of a shadowy dragon descending from its top to the base. This event happens twice per year during the spring and fall equinoxes.”
He read more about Chichen Itza and was enthralled with the construction of the star observatory built by the Mayans which resembled modern observatories constructed the world over.
Next, he wanted to compare the ancient writing styles of China and the Maya. The search engine revealed that China, the Maya and Egypt all used hieroglyphs in their writing. Of the three cultures, semblances of Chinese hieroglyphs still existed within their written language. These glyphs evolved into their current language and spread to Korea, Okinawa and Japan. Roper read that a trained eye will find pictographs in their respective Asian scripts.
He eased back in his seat and glanced around the room. He twisted his back, stretching it, and took a deep breath, moving his right ear to his right shoulder. A couple of vertebrae popped and the tension in his neck dissipated. He repeated the same movement to the left shoulder and his neck cracked again. The lady sitting on the other side of his partition heard the cracks, stood and looked at him, her jaw slack and a disgusted look on her face. He returned her look with a smirk that said, “Thanks for your concern, now mind your own damned business.” She sat back down and minded her own business.
He returned to his research after checking his watch. Not wanting to stay in one place for an excessive amount of time, he planned for another thirty minutes before leaving. His fingers moved to the keyboard, and he went back to the Google search engine.
“China and Mayan similarities” was what he searched next. Pottery and artwork from two countries, two continents half a world apart filled his computer screen. The likenesses between them were inconceivable. Even to Roper’s inexperienced eye, he knew he was looking at something more than mere coincidence. This was real, but none of it explained why he was chasing a Mexican man from Mexico City to Monterrey.
The word “cartouche” appeared in the search bar as his fingers typed the word. He pressed the enter key and watched the monitor populate with links to several sites discussing their use in Egypt of old. As he read about their design, first made of stone and later gold and silver, he grew to learn that a pharaoh or king whose name was emblazoned upon a cartouche was believed to be protected from evil in life and death
. Egyptians also believed a wearer of a cartouche would never disappear, even after death. Roper found this belief a difficult one, but assumed their belief was rooted in the acknowledgement of a spiritual soul.
Egyptians were also very careful when their cartouches were cast to avoid an enemy gaining control of it because they believed an enemy could overcome the owner’s spirit and physical body if the high priests did not protect the gem with a sacred ward or curse. Roper found that information fascinating. What if this cartouche held a spell that controlled someone’s soul? Wouldn’t that be just like the United States government to want that power for themselves?
Much less information was found about Mayan cartouches. It would seem a Mayan cartouche was worn in a related manner as that of its Egyptian counterpart. The kings and priests of Mesoamerica wore them to protect themselves from evil, both in the real world and that of the spiritual realm. They, too, believed that any enemy who came into possession of their cartouche could control their physical and spiritual beings.
Roper saw the likenesses of the Egyptian and Mayan cultures, but this did nothing to help him in his search for the Chinese cartouche stolen from the Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City, so he conducted another search for “Chinese cartouche” and found minimal information. Strange. Buddy is convinced the cartouche stolen from the museum is Chinese or at least, Chinese in origin, yet I can’t find a concrete link between their use in China and the Mayan people, he thought. But there’s something there, even if the connection is minimal.
Having decided that he’d stayed long enough, and happy that he had gleaned some useful information, but nothing that lead him to the cartouche, he knew the time had come to hash this thing out with Buddy. He cleared the browser history before backing his chair away from the small computer desk, checked around the café, and left.
