Effigy (46 page)

He slipped the length of rope that had been digging into his shoulder. At one end hung the effigy which he’d thrown over his back for easier carrying. It’d been hard enough climbing up to the ruins with the bulky jaguar box under his arm.

With his offerings deposited in the ballcourt pit, Mateo crawled up the shallow embankment. He lay flat on the warm earth near the top where he could survey the situation brewing around Pyramid B. It was an amusing scene.

A bomb squad was making preparations within a chaotic horde of officers waiting for instructions. On the pyramid platform above them stood the fifteen-foot Atlanteans maintaining a rigid sentinel against certain attack. Just beyond the confusion near the park’s entrance, civilian vehicles were reluctantly pulling away from the small museum where more officers were ushering the last few visitors from the area.

The police were cooperating perfectly. He felt the satisfaction of a puppeteer overseeing his own production. Pull one string and the police cleared the site. Pull another string and they all gathered at Pyramid B—far away from the jaguar chacmool.

Mateo checked his watch and slipped back down to the effigy and the jaguar box. He had plenty of time to wait there, virtually out of sight from the activity surrounding the pyramid. There was no sense in revealing himself too soon. He was taking a chance as it was, completing this final offering with so much law enforcement around. But he had no alternative. His sacrifice would fail completely if the police hadn’t been around to clear the public.

For now, Mateo’s plan was working perfectly. Soon, very soon, the world would realize the beauty of his work.

Place Of Reeds

Peet had never fallen upon a more chaotic scene than the one surrounding the road blockade. As he threaded himself into the chaos, he’d never felt more conflicted. He cursed the officer in
Teotihuacan
from whom he’d lifted the AFI vest and balaclava mask. Had the officer been taller and a bit larger around the waist he could have taken the black uniform trousers too.

As it was, Peet walked into the blockade conscious of his own blue jeans clashing with the navy uniform shirt and black bulletproof vest. The cuffs still dangling from his wrist certainly didn’t help. His failed disguise had turned him into a neon sign, unable to blend in amongst the civilian crowd, less likely to slip through the AFI blockade. If he was ever to find the effigy, he first had to quit skulking around like a half-naked man and get himself into
Tula
.

As he wove through the cars jammed along the road, he spotted an SUV with bright yellow AFI lettering on its door. That was all the trousers he needed and when he found the vehicle empty with the keys dangling from the ignition, Peet climbed in behind the wheel.

With the crowd occupying the officers’ attention, nobody would notice the SUV gone, much less stolen by an American. After all, if it worked to get him out of
Teotihuacan
, it should work getting him into
Tula
. But just to be on the safe side, he pulled the mask over his face again and tailed a small motorcade headed for the ruins.

* * * *

The park was as nearly chaotic as the road blockade. The AFI officers from the motorcade burst from their vehicles and rushed to join others who’d already surrounded the flat-topped pyramid beyond. Peet had parked the SUV behind two vans and slumped down behind the wheel to survey the AFI in action.

They moved with the urgency of an FBI squad with their faces masked like Ninjas. They were armed with rifles and stormed the blunt pyramid like regimental militia. But to what purpose? The four giant Atlanteans stood rigid among a handful of stone columns atop the pyramid, but there was nothing else to draw their attention. Given the AFI’s urgent breastworks at the base of the pyramid, one might have thought they were witnessing a battle against four Toltec Goliaths.

Peet felt impatient. How could he possibly search for the effigy in all this mess?

The front doors of a van parked near the small museum swung open, pulling Peet’s attention away from the pyramid. Two officers got out, but they didn’t rush into the park like the others. Instead, they waited for a third man who’d vacated the car parked nearby.

This third man tugged on his bullet-proof vest. He wasn’t masked like the rest of the officers. He wasn’t even armed except for a baton hanging alongside his thigh. His face was stern, his eyes darting as he barked an order that chased the two officers back to their van.

They flung the side door open. One of the officers reached in and pulled out a woman whose hands were bound behind her back. Peet’s breath caught in his throat.

Eva!

His pulse began to race. If the AFI brought Eva to
Tula
, then there was a good chance they brought John too. All thoughts of the effigy disintegrated as he focused on that dark van parked just ahead of him.

With measured movements, the third man exchanged words with Eva, then reluctantly removed the cuffs from behind her back only to lock her wrists in front of her again. With that, he took hold of her arm and with his officers in tow, led her toward the pyramid like a sacrifice to the altar. Peet waited until they were out of sight. Then, with his mouth suddenly dry, he adjusted the mask on his face and finally slipped out of the SUV.

The van was parked facing away from him with the bright yellow AFI letters emblazoned across the back cargo doors. To Peet, they read like a caution sign. The windows were too dark to see inside. The van could be empty for all he knew, but if John did happen to be inside, chances were he wasn’t alone.

Peet inched ever closer until he could just make out the shadowy outline of someone sitting in the back seat. There was no one else that he could see, and there was no movement. Was it really John? Then a disturbing thought slammed into Peet’s mind like a hammer to the head.
Could he be dead?

Peet took a deep breath. His fingers curled around the cool handle of the sliding door. With reflexes primed for an attack, he swung the door open with one quick movement. The captive, beaten and bound in the back seat, wearily lifted his head.

“Dad?”

John looked at him curiously as Peet quickly scanned the van’s interior. Finding nobody else inside, he tugged at the mask to give John a glimpse of his face.

“It’s me. Peet.”

John frowned. “What in God’s good name are you doing wearing that?”

“Long story. Just get out of the van.”

John shifted his weight with a groan, giving Peet a good look at the bruises on his face, the swelling of his right cheek.

“What happened to you, Dad?”

John painstakingly leaned out of the van. “Also a long story,” he gruffed. “And don’t call me Dad.”

Peet reached out to stabilize him when he became aware of the footsteps coming fast. They were too close and they had no time to react. With John still hanging halfway out of the van, Peet spun around to the click of a rifle’s safety. Two AFI officers were aiming their weapons directly at them.

“
Quien es
?” the first demanded.

Peet swallowed, his mouth like cotton. He raised his hands in the air as the second officer reached out and pulled the mask off. Peet’s hair crackled with static, his face feeling suddenly exposed and naked.

“Good disguise,” John said smartly, eyeing Peet’s jeans.

“Well,” Peet said sourly as they were shoved at gunpoint back into the van. “I didn’t have time to fully enlist.”

Ballcourt

Derek drove as far as he dared on a road little more than a cow trail around the backside of
Tula
. He killed the engine and sat there in the heavy silence with Lori, looking up the sun-washed slope leading up to the ruins.

“I’m surprised nobody else has come back here,” Lori said.

“Nobody else is crazy enough to tempt fate with the Mexican police,” he replied.

“Maybe we should take their lead and get out of here.”

Derek sighed. Lori was becoming just like every other sniveling bitch who didn’t get her way. “I overestimated your sense of adventure,” he said impatiently.

She released an agitated huff. “Playing games with the police isn’t what I call an adventure.”

Derek laughed. “Oh ya, I forgot. You’re an archaeologist. Your idea of excitement is digging up dead guys.”

Her eyes deepened with anger.

“Cheer up, Lori. Just think of it as a second chance to find the effigy. You remember how exciting it was the first time, don’t you?”

Lori didn’t look convinced. Although her glare switched to the hill just outside Derek’s window, her expression still had that scornful look about it.

“Even if the effigy is up there, we aren’t going to find it without getting caught.”

“It’s got to be up there.”

She shook her head. “It’s a trap. The police could’ve used Dr. Friedman’s phone to lure us all together for a group arrest.”

Derek groaned irritably. “It’s not a trap. The police aren’t out in obvious sight when they’re trying to lure someone in.”

Lori crossed her arms and cast him a challenging glare, one of those how-do-you-know looks. Derek ignored it. He was through trying to please her. He never could make a good partner out of her anyway, sexual or in any other sense. But if he could just string her along a little longer, her brilliant archaeological mind might come in handy for locating the effigy.

However, the fact that so many AFI officers were gathered around Pyramid B was alarming enough to give Lori’s trap theory merit. Their presence in an archaeological site was baffling, to say the least, and if the police weren’t there looking for them, what were they there for?

“I don’t like the looks of this at all,” Lori murmured.

Derek opened his car door. “We’ll never know what’s going on unless we get closer.”

* * * *

This is insane,
Lori thought as she followed Derek up the slope to
Tula
. She hated to sound like such a pessimist, but they were in way over their heads. This excursion to find the effigy had gotten out of hand. It had become more of a test for survival, and tempting fate with the Mexican police wasn’t exactly turning the odds in their favor.

She’d love to have the effigy back in her possession, but at what cost? Was it worth risking their lives for it? Was it worth losing Dr. Peet, Dr. Friedman and Eva to some backward foreign legal system? She and Derek may be their only hope of rescue so it wasn’t prudent of them to continue with Shaman Gaspar’s charade, not when her better sense told her they should have been at the embassy by now.

“We’ll come up right beside the ballcourt,” Derek whispered over his shoulder as they scaled the slope. Lori was a step behind, panting beneath the parched sun and sweating through her sleeveless shirt.

What were they doing here?