The Mayan Priest (15 page)

‘Oh my God. You are too good to be true,’ replied Gillian in astonishment, her look of genuine admiration causing Adam to squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

‘Let me try this again,’ she muttered to herself as she translated the hieroglyphs one by one and coming up with a sequence of letters that meant no more to Adam than the scribble of a prep student.

Comitoraridep meusaum digitusim adeoireiiitum imprimus ductulus were the first letters she wrote, followed by: Comitor-ari dep, meus-a um, digitus-im, adeo-ire-ii-itum, imprimus ductus-us m and eventually broken down into: ‘Follow my finger to first face’.

‘We would conclude that he is referring to the Temple of Masks in Uaxactun, but I fail to understand what he means by “follow his finger”. That is no help to me at all,’ sighed Gillian, her face screwed up in a look of exasperation.

‘I reckon I can assist with that,’ replied Adam as he pointed to one of the pictures. In that particular painting the priest is sitting on the ground but facing sideways. Directly behind him is a carving of a mask he is pointing to.’

‘Then Uaxactún is our next destination,’ replied Gillian as her mobile phone rang loudly, causing them to jump at the unexpected intrusion.

‘Bloody ‘ell, Mate,’ cursed Adam in fright, his Australian slang causing Gillian to grin.

It was General Dale Bright on the phone and he spoke solidly for two minutes before Gillian was able to interrupt long enough to request the use of an aircraft to fly them to Uaxactún. He could tell by the smile on her face that he had agreed.

‘My father rang to tell me that his men in Tikal have managed to drill a small hole through the obsidian and insert a pipe into the suspended room. This has allowed them to drop a few water bladders and a number of sustenance bars to my friends, but my father is concerned. The lift has dropped which means the rope has started to fail. They’ve calculated the amount of stretch by the weight and determined that they only have forty-eight hours remaining. He will continue to monitor it and will keep us informed, but in the meantime, he assured me he would arrange our transportation.’

‘I suppose we’d better get a move on if we’re driving back to the base,’ said Adam as he closed the books and threw out their scribbled waste.

Gillian grabbed his arm to stop him. ‘Someone will pick us up from the roof.’

Adam gestured upwards, indicating the library roof and she nodded.

They hurried to the elevator, intent on making their way unimpeded to the top floor, but Gillian turned at the last moment. Adam could tell by the surprised look on her face that she had just seen someone she recognised and her look was not one of delight.

‘Hurry. We don’t have time. Take the stairs.’

Adam did not need any prompting. He ran.

Gillian was in front of him and they sprinted up the stairs two at a time, pausing only when a door slammed not more than thirty seconds behind.

The footsteps were closing rapidly and Adam did not think they were going to make it until he made a last-minute decision to toss one of the library books into the face of their pursuer. The surprise bought them just enough time to escape onto the roof and climb aboard the waiting helicopter.

Georgio Catalino smiled as they boarded. ‘Need a lift?’

***

Samuel was furious … no, he was more than furious; he was livid with rage. This was the second time the woman had managed to thwart him. Ahaw was not going to be happy, but his leader’s failure to obtain the Calendar Round from the Australian at the air force base gave him some gratification.

Something else was also on his mind and the more he considered it, the more troubled he became. If his ahaw was an almighty god, why had he not predicted the failure of his chosen men at the Brooks City-Base? Gods were supposed to be all seeing, but it seemed that his ahaw was not.

Samuel pushed his deliberation to the back of his mind in favour of locating the destination of his targets which he would require before ringing Ahaw and requesting transportation.

He scanned the library and decided that he needed to enlist the help of the librarian. If anyone had seen them, it would have been her. His only concern was that he would be required to come up with a convincing story and acting was not one of his strong points.

Samuel approached the librarian and took a deep breath before spinning a tale of flat tyres, long lost friends and the hope that they had left him a note.

She fell for it and directed him to the alcove they had been sitting at.

On his first inspection, Samuel came up empty, but a second sweep of the area revealed a stray piece of paper lying near the bin. It was just what he was hoping for, the rubbish revealing two intelligible words amongst dozens of doodles and undecipherable letters. The words were Uaxactún and Palenque.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dale sped desperately along the narrow streets of Austin, throwing caution to the wind. Any attempt to keep to the speed limit had long been breached and he had undoubtedly amassed a sizeable collection of red-light camera fines. He ratified his actions by reminding himself that Reynata’s life was in his hands.

The safe house was only two streets away, but the distant police sirens sent chills of fear through his body. He sensed that he was already too late.

Dale floored the accelerator and spun the car sideways into the one-way street. He straightened the steering wheel and screeched to a halt directly in front of the small, nondescript brick house. Two police cars were already in attendance and he noted a body bag on the front lawn. His heart leapt into his throat as he clambered from the car and ran through the neat garden to the first officer he could find.

‘My name is General Dale Bright. I’m looking for the woman who lives here.’

‘I’m not sure, Sir. We only received the report of gunshots half an hour ago and there are two bodies, both of whom are women. You’ll have to speak to the boss,’ gestured the young man as he pointed to a bald-headed officer busy writing a report.

Dale approached the officer of African American descent with trepidation but introduced himself with outward confidence and a strong handshake. He learnt many years ago that respect got him a lot further in life then insensitivity and rudeness.

The man replied by acknowledging him with a return handshake.

‘I’m looking for the woman who lives here,’ Dale repeated.

‘We have two women, but we have yet to determine which one is the owner of the home. Perhaps you can help us with the identification.’

‘Yes of course,’ replied Dale. Years in the army had hardened him to the often gruesome nature of death, but it was not something he enjoyed. Seeing the passing of others reminded him of his own mortality and he took his hat off to doctors, forensic scientists and all those who dealt with the dead on a daily basis. It was not a job he could do.

‘Both women were shot dead by a sniper. The one inside was targeted through the open kitchen window and this one appeared to have stepped outside to collect the paper. The officer walked over to the body bag and unzipped the side.

Dale blinked and gazed at the sightless eyes. The woman was approximately forty years of age with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was slightly overweight and sported purple facial bruises from an old injury. Most importantly, she was not Reynata. He breathed a sigh of relief although he felt a moment of guilt for not mourning the loss of an innocent soul.

‘It’s not her,’ Dale muttered as he stood up from the blood-stained lush grass.

‘The other woman’s in the kitchen,’ said the officer as Dale moved towards the front door ‘It’s not pretty in there!’ he yelled as Dale acknowledged his warning with a wave.

Dale stepped into the old house. A mix of lavender and freshly baked cake permeated the walls, leaving him with a sense of familiarity and dread. He did not know how he would cope if she was dead.

He moved slowly down the tiny hall and turned right into the small lounge. As usual, the house was spotless. Reynata was house proud and despite her second-hand furniture and time worn flooring, she had made this place her home. It was friendly and welcoming, adorned with fresh flowers and samples of her fine needlework. Dale picked up an embroidered pillow and placed it nonchalantly back into the position on the couch he was so used to seeing it in.

With foreboding and a racing pulse, Dale stepped into the pale green kitchen. The awning window was shattered and blood was dotted across the walls and over the fresh butter cake that lay in slices on the central island bench. The body was crumpled sideways on the floor, attended to by a crime scene investigator who had turned her face up so they could prepare the body for removal.

Dale used the fridge to lean against. His legs were on the verge of collapse and nerves coursed through his body. The woman was not Reynata, leaving him relieved but with one question: where was she?

He knew that this was a safe house and the dead women must have been caught in the crossfire as a case of mistaken identity, but it was also unlike Reynata to run. She would never flee for her life and leave the house or her friends unattended. Adding further fuel to the fire was the small Chrysler in the driveway, set of keys and black purse near the sink. He automatically concluded she had been taken and it did not take much for him to work out by whom.

He had to ring someone … but whom. Reynata was in protective custody and his involvement with her would surely be questioned. He was in a quandary, a feeling that did not sit well with him. He was used to getting immediate answers to his questions.

‘Look, I don’t know if it is related, but five minutes ago I overheard a call on the radio about a woman found sitting in the gutter only two streets from here. She was dazed and unresponsive. The ambulance officers were unable to get an intelligent word out of her and have taken her to the Seton Medical Centre.’

Dale waved and started the ignition. The vehicle roared to life and Dale raced to the medical centre. If it was Reynata, he feared what condition he would find her in. A relapse would devastate her psyche and possibly undo all of the progress she had made over the last twenty years.

The short ten minute drive to the hospital seemed exceedingly lengthy, added by the lack of car parking. Dale was so frustrated that he used his status to pass the queue and walk straight to the counter. He could feel the eyes of the waiting patients boring angrily into his back and in any other circumstance, he would have taken his place in the line … but not today.

The attending nurse gave him directions which Dale followed exactly, arriving at the ward in less than a minute. He approached bed number one with hesitation, fearful of what he would find. If it was not Reynata, he would have to start at the beginning. If it was her, would she recognise him? Was she hurt? There was only one way for him to find out. He pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the small cubicle.

The woman lay on the bed with her back facing him. He did not need to see her face to know that it was Reynata. The glorious dark brown hair that she used to hide the scars on her shoulders lay limp on the pillow. Her slender but tall figure was slumped in resignation under the cotton sheets and her left hand with the missing fingers was visible on the bed in front of her.

‘I was not here when they brought her in, but it seems that she was involved in some sort of altercation. There are bruises to her wrists and welts on her arms and face. She has not responded to any stimuli and has not eaten anything since her arrival. Technically speaking, she does not require the drip, but we are worried about dehydration.’

‘She has not said a word since her arrival?’ questioned Dale.

‘None, but she is carrying many horrific scars. We were wondering if her current status has anything to do with her old wounds,’ replied the nurse as she unhooked the saline bag and replaced it with a new one.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Dale honestly as he moved around to the front of the bed.

Reynata’s eyes were open, but she had a vacant, glazed expression. Dale was overwhelmed with a sinking feeling of guilt and sadness. He had not been there when she needed him most. He took her fingerless hand and stroked it gently, smiling at the nurse when she left the room. The nurse gave him an expression of sympathy.

‘I’m sorry, Reynata. I was not with you when you needed me.’

‘You’re a right royal bastard,’ she whispered in return.

Dale was taken aback with shock. He could not believe what he had heard. She was looking at him with bright focused eyes and a total clarity.

‘What … how?’

She gestured to him to come closer. Dale complied.

‘I’m only joking. I’m not upset with you. I knew you would come for me,’ she whispered in a voice so low that no one else could hear her.

‘After my friends were shot and I was kidnapped, I knew immediately what had happened. Ahaw had found me. There was no way in hell that I was going to let them take me back to that place, so I fought. I fought for my life like you had taught me, Dale. After freeing my hands, I took the small can of mace you told me to keep in my pocket and I sprayed it in their faces. The driver slammed his foot on the brakes and I jumped from the car. I could hear an ambulance come around the corner at which time my kidnappers took off and I lay in the gutter, pretending to be injured. My ruse worked and they stopped for me instead of heading to my home. I knew if I could stay quiet until you came, no one would discover my identity and I would be safe. We need to get out of here before they find out where I am.’