The Jaguar (36 page)

Wary of the gun now lodged once more in Marcus' right hand, Cesar clasped the other tightly. “Be very careful, Marcus. My father is not the danger. He's a good marksman and deliberately shot Luis only to injure him. I understand now that he was trying to save his life. And he has protected your party. By letting Alfredo run he has given most of you time to get away. These others are Xterra. They are evil and they'll do anything they think they can get away with. They also have influential friends.”

Marcus nodded solemnly then added, as an after-thought, “Tell Dana I miss her and that I'll be OK.”

Cesar managed the briefest of sympathetic smiles.

Marcus watched as two of the three metal boats backed quickly out of sight, leaving him alone in the twilight. One or two of the party waved. Felicity shouted a horse farewell. The rest were still in shock. They sat either head-in-hands or staring blankly ahead, unable to compute the speed with which the cornerstones of their comfortable universe had collapsed.

Pulling his rucksack from the final launch, Marcus stuffed the gun into one outside pocket and a bottle of water and the first aid kit into the other. He tugged a torch from the top compartment and checked that it was working properly. Then he swung the bag onto his sweat-soaked back. The cold, damp feel of it made him hesitate. All at once he felt very alone. The thought of sharing an island with three Xterra thugs terrified him. Despite the growing tension in his chest, he finally forced himself to move. There was no going back now.

Instead of heading off into the jungle, he jumped into the water. Pushing the remaining launch through the thick vegetation obscuring the shoreline, he slipped frequently on unseen hazards, and had to concentrate to think above a cacophony of frogs. He would follow the coast until he found a place where the boat could lie undiscovered. If Carlos' group returned, they would hopefully think everybody else had gone and lose interest in the tourists. Almost certainly they would assume Alfredo to be still on the island, if they hadn't already caught up with him. This would leave Marcus a way to get Laura and David to safety without having to encounter them again - possibly even an escape route for Alfredo too.

Chapter Forty-Five

The Marshes

Mulac was rasping for breath. Living, as he did, in the middle of a vast water-world, it was a long time since he had climbed a hill. The experience was telling him even more clearly just how close he was to his own demise. Eventually, he forced the wreckage of his spine to straighten and stared out from a vantage point upon his simple, horizontal kingdom. It was several seconds before he could focus, but he was aware of the sun slowly dissolving into the distant horizon. Under his breath he mouthed a prayer to Emetaly, to his parents and to Ah Kin Lo. It was always as the sun slipped between worlds that he felt closest to them.

His son Yochi was, as usual, chattering obliviously beside him. “Soon my sister will marry a noble. I too will choose a princess as my bride. Then we can leave the custom-house island. We can move into Muyil and build our own lodge, with its own grand courtyard and shrine.”

“I am too old to move, Yochi. You can go, but wait until I am settled here for good. My next journey will be into the afterlife, not into Muyil.”

Yochi tried to protest, but Mulac waved an impatient, liver-spotted hand at him.

“I know you and your sister will visit me here, Yochi, but there is another important journey you both must take. I want you to promise me you will travel to Coba, to the temple of Ix-Chel. For, at its foot, facing the forest, lie the remains of your mother. Make that journey for me and your lives will continue to be blessed.”

Yochi put a strong, supporting arm around his father, whispered his promise compliantly, and led him slowly around the ridge to the temple tomb. Soon both were sitting side by side on the simple stone plinth in the middle of the viewing platform. The horizontal rays of the sun shone straight onto the carved stone frieze decorating the back-wall. Mulac peered at it suspiciously.

“I told you - that never happened!” He was pointing his stick at a warrior version of himself, who was cleaving a mounted devil with his sword. Yochi laughed. Since his earliest years, people had talked to him of his father's modesty. Mulac spat at the floor, but then laughed as well in resignation. He rested his head wearily on his son's shoulder.

“Yochi, I would like you to leave me here, for a while. I have to know this place. My spirit must recognise it, if I am ever to return here from the land of the dead. I must be able to come to you when you visit, and I think our jaguar king, K'inich, may have work for me still. Go back and get the others. I am tired. You will need to bring a litter to carry me back to the boat.”

Yochi slipped dutifully away, Mulac admiring his athletic form until he disappeared into the trees. Mulac remained still for a long time, whilst the gentlest of shadows grew around him and played across the carvings.

“Hello, dear friends,” he whispered, satisfied that here he would never have to be alone.

With a contented sigh, Mulac finally struggled to his feet. Turning to face the last embers of sunlight, he cautiously descended the grand limestone staircase to the lake. He would strip and bathe in its dark waters. There he would cast his necklace of jaguar claws. If K'inich did not take him now, he would maintain his state of grace by praying, every dawn and dusk, for the great cat to allow the spirits of his ancestors to receive him soon. On his way back he would also leave an offering - something important that might guide his parents and Ah Kin Lo to this place again - something that might one day assist another lost soul. He would give up Quetzalcoatl's
ring - the Ouroboros - the snake that marked the circular path the jaguar walked from day to night, life to death, world to world, and back again. Ah Kin Lo had sacrificed it for his benefit. How could he do less? He would bury it beneath the moss on the sacred stone which marked the downward path to the landing point. Somewhere, close by, the great cat snarled. Mulac swayed precariously on a loose step in fright, but concluded that K'inich was not displeased.

Chapter Forty-Six

The Marshes

Alfredo emerged, blinking, onto the ridge. He doubled up, heaving for breath and fighting the pains that had returned to his leg after his frantic getaway through the jungle. More than escape, more than returning to help his brother, he wanted to find Laura. It was a reckless, he recognised that, but nothing bad would happen to her as long as he continued to hurry, continued to keep his pursuers at a safe distance. Laura and he would embrace, he would declare his love and then he would be gone. Whatever happened after that would happen. It didn't matter. Freed from hubris and Las Contadonas, his existence now felt surprisingly trivial.

David had spotted him already and was waving from the platform. Laura began to stride and then jog towards him. As they closed the gap, Alfredo could tell by the degree of concern on her face that the pair must have heard the gunshots. The two embraced, each allowing their tension to dissolve into the other. The smell of Laura slipped from a once hidden door in Alfredo's past.

Laura stretched on tiptoe to peck Alfredo on the cheek then nuzzled in relief against his chest. “What happened?” She was even more breathless than he.

Alfredo shook his head slowly as he led her by the hand back to the monument, desperately trying to work out how he could explain himself. David made it easier.

“You're not a park official, are you?”

Alfredo threw up his hands in affirmation and apology.

“Felicity was suspicious.” David continued. “She got me thinking. You don't look like someone who knows where you're going, at least not in an environment like this one.”

“You've got that right,” Alfredo exclaimed sardonically, stroking the back of Laura's hair. She smiled up at him as he fixed his eyes determinedly upon hers and took a long deep breath. “My brother and I come from a powerful family, but our business is not legal. I suppose you could say we are gangsters, Mexican Mafioso. I killed someone recently who tried to kill me. It started a war. We lost, my father and my uncle were killed, and Luis and I had to run. Our old world is gone. There is nothing to go back for, but even before I met you, Laura, I didn't want that life again. Now I'm another person: the person I see through your eyes, but our enemies have caught up. Luis has been shot, and may be dying. Very soon, for your own safety, you must leave me here.”

Alfredo's stopped abruptly, his confession leaving him emotionally exhausted. He searched for fear in Laura's eyes, but instead read deep disappointment. That was worse. The door slammed shut. Never had he regretted his past so profoundly. He struggled hard to stay positive.

“It's funny, you know,” David interrupted, as breezily as if they were discussing the weather. This could, indeed, have been a topic of conversation, as the sky was looking increasingly dark and threatening. “I'm not afraid of you, or of what you say has happened. Back home, I'm afraid of my own shadow. My girlfriend, Phoebe, whom I love, but always let down, she wouldn't recognise me. That's a good thing. Something changed in me on this journey, just as it has in you.”

Alfredo stared at the towering clouds. He wanted these people to know everything about him, but there wouldn't be time. “I was in your country recently,” he resumed, determined to make the conversation last at least a little longer. “That is where things changed. I walked madly around London, hating the place, but it was my past, not London, I was trying to escape. Then I ended up here, and thought all was lost until I met this girl.” He kissed the top of Laura's head, once more savouring the aroma: a tiny memento of life led only in dreams. Then he turned back to David. “Here, take this.” He passed over his gun in an act of both surrender and renewal.

David gawped then grasped it awkwardly by the top of the barrel. He took in the strange, alien weight of it, knowing it was something he could never use.

Alfredo continued, speaking with an increasingly distant air: “It's me who should be afraid of my shadow, David, not you. Your shadow frames your character, so you stand proud. My shadow is different. It's the shadow of encroaching night. It blankets and obscures and creates unseen spaces for evil to flourish. It's stalking me, David. It wants to drag me beneath these marshes. Laura lifts my heart, but I can't escape the darkness.”

“But you can't escape from me either, now.” Alfredo's defeatism only fuelled in Laura a sense of passionate purpose. She embraced him as though it was she who was his shadow. His revelations had shocked - possibly even scared her - but only as if she had absorbed an unsavoury aspect of her own character. His guilt would be her guilt, his punishment her punishment. It didn't matter what happened, only that it happened together. Her whole life meant less than this single moment beyond time and space. Something could actually last. She was crying. She cried some more when she realised they were tears of joy.

Alfredo shook his head, forcing himself to remember that their situation was hopeless. “My brother - my best friend - is badly injured. The father of your guide, Cesar, arrived with some men. Somehow he seems to be working for our enemies, people who are far more ruthless than us. You should have nothing to fear from them, but it's still wise to lie low until this situation is resolved. I must go back now and find a way to help Luis.”

David put a finger to his lips, almost hitting himself in the face with the gun. It was too late, somebody was coming. Laura dragged Alfredo towards the far edge of the platform, determined not to let go. All three jumped into a thick layer of grass and bushes, David stumbling down the slope towards the highest corner, overlooking the lake. Regrouping, they huddled together at the base of the monument. Alfredo looked about him for anything that might cover their escape, but it was only in the lee of the triangular stone wall that the vegetation grew tall.

There were low, male, cautious voices just above them. Out of habit, Alfredo gestured for the gun, but David had dropped it as he fell. All three pressed as close to the stonework as they could, Laura almost lost from view between the others. They could hear heavy footsteps beginning to negotiate the steep stairway down to the lake. Any moment they would be seen.

David shuffled further down the slope, tugging at Laura's shirt sleeve for her to follow. As he stretched an arm along the wall it found a gap, half hidden by the brush. The gap grew larger as he gingerly parted the covering layers of creeper and fern. It was an entrance to a chamber beneath the monument. Pausing for one last breath of fresh evening air, David plunged head first into the darkness. His portly frame only just squeezed through. Laura found his hand, extended back out towards her from within, and followed. Alfredo hesitated, casting around for the gun, but realised that bolting or fighting back now would be suicide, anyway. He could see someone in uniform just yards away from him, standing on one of the nearest steps. The man had only to turn around. Alfredo cursed silently to himself and shuffled, feet first through the hole, carefully guiding the plants back over the entrance in his wake.

The tomb was not quite dark. Here and there pale patches of light stained a wooden beam or a block of masonry. The air was dank and musty, and vaguely mammalian. From ceiling to floor was no more than four feet, less in places where fusty mounds of peat had covered the rough stone tiles. The plinth that had dominated the platform above continued down into the tomb. Laura realised that it must contain a sarcophagus.

For a long time the three sat together, just beyond the portal, listening intently for any sound, but nothing seemed to penetrate this void. They were breathing as one, the noise growing stronger as the daylight continued to weaken. Weariness and true darkness overtook them.

Mulac started, suddenly conscious, and wondered if the breathing could be his. The darkness had changed. He knew he had broken the surface of the human world. He could sense the shared blood of his descendants in the far distance. The memory of a long lost life came flooding back to him. He smiled. The creature sat beside him, listless and pawing at the black; panting. Something had disturbed its vigil. Mulac concentrated. His thoughts came rushing in from every corner of the night, to where the dust of his body lay. There was another presence in the tomb. People - seekers - a timid soul, a diseased soul, a soul with little form. Now he understood. He must inhabit the shadows once again: work his magic before the great cat lost patience and struck.