The Mayan Priest (7 page)

Just before their heart was offered to the gods, the voices of the thirteen deities of the upper world could be heard voicing their approval from the roof and everyone fell to their knees in awe.

After the ceremony, they were allowed access to a large barrel of pulque (a thick alcoholic drink made from the sap of the agave tree) and could celebrate until the next morning.

Samuel exhaled in delight and took a moment to indulge in the memory as the plane took off down the runway. He was keen to continue his pursuit although he considered the word ‘keen’ to be an understatement. Ardent to the point of desperate more closely represented his true feelings. He felt like a hunter searching for his prey and he longed to get his hands on her. She would bring him great favour and he could almost visualise the applause he would receive in front of his people.

Samuel zealously clutched the Taser and drifted into a trouble free sleep as the plane reached its cruising altitude.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Very little bothered Richard! He considered himself to be a calm, sensible man who had always taken life one step at a time and it was for this reason that archaeology was a perfect fit for his nature. Delving into the past took considerable patience and he enjoyed spending months uncovering mysteries of the past. His only fear had been claustrophobic tunnels, caves and the insides of ancient tombs, but by forcing himself to face this trepidation as a young man, he had developed the tools required to deal with most occurrences, this one included.

When the door slid closed, locking them into a small, impenetrable room, he readily accepted his fate and was neither startled nor worried. Gillian was a smart girl and if anyone could get them out, it would be her. His faith in her was unwavering, but even he knew that not everyone was infallible. It was for this reason that Richard had no intention of sitting about and waiting for a rescue. The Mayans were smart people, but it did not take much intelligence to know that they were not the inventors of the metal cable and that the most likely thing stopping them from falling into oblivion was a rope, and an old one at that.

As soon as they realised they were entombed, the first reaction was one of amusement. They could not believe that a group of five highly intelligent individuals had been outwitted by a civilisation long since passed, but this soon elapsed as the full comprehension of their predicament and the confines of the tiny room, less than three square feet, brought them down to reality. Tempers began to fray with Fred and Redmond being the worst offenders, forcing Richard to bring order.

‘Now, listen!’ Richard raised his voice. ‘No amount of squabbling is going to bring forth a magic genie to grant us three wishes and let us out of here.’

Julia saw the funny side of Richard’s comment. ‘You always did like Aladdin.’

‘I think I could recite it backwards,’ replied Richard, referring to the amount of times he had watched the film with his granddaughter. ‘So, we need to stop acting like caged rabbits and find a way out of here.’

‘It’s not like I can see an escape hatch,’ replied Fred, his sarcasm causing Richard to cringe. He never did have much patience for that boy.

‘Well, it’s quite obvious that we don’t have any food or water and we could be trapped here for days. I for one have no intention of withering and dying like a sacrificial victim,’ said Richard as Julia, Mitchell and Redmond replied with a ‘here, here’.

Richard contemplated the situation at hand and did a mental calculation of the tools he had with him. As a rule, he had a large cache of equipment at the dig site, but he had always carried a small tool belt in light of his ageing years to save him the energy of running back and forth. He had investigated in a good quality, lightweight hiker’s belt that contained a small hammer, chisel, tiny hand spade, Capewell retractable grappling hook and nylon rope for safety. A small torch with a set of spare batteries was also included and for which he was thankful. Unfortunately he did not have the one thing they required – food or water.

‘We should all empty our pockets and combine anything we may have with us,’ suggested Richard.

Everyone agreed and they were able to put together an eclectic mix of sustenance bars, tissues, a couple of pocket knives, two mobile phones, pens and odd pieces of paper. Redmond also had a complete packet of jelly snakes that he had to give up.

‘I have no doubt, particularly as her father is a Major General in the United States Air Force. I would expect that he will be here as soon as he hears about my predicament. It is also possible that our rescue will receive media attention and we could be famous,’ said Fred, the darkness covering what Richard knew would be a smug expression.

Richard remained silent. He did not want to dampen anyone’s spirits, but the odds were stacked against Gillian. For one thing, there was no transportation from Tikal other than the vehicles conveying the tourists at irregular intervals, there was little coverage for mobile phones and he suffered a nagging distrust of Samuel. Something about him did not ring true despite his obvious knowledge about the ancient Mayan society. At first Richard had been unable to pinpoint the problem until he recalled the first time he knew he would become an archaeologist. He was so passionate about his chosen future that he ensured everyone knew about it. It was passion that was the key. Samuel did not have passion. He was mechanical, without feeling. The picture of the jackal, a dog not to be trusted, came to mind and he suddenly feared for Gillian. All was not well, but he was determined not to share his concerns with his companions and moved to another topic.

‘Now, we have enough battery power here for at least four to five days, but we must use it wisely …’started Richard as Mitchell intervened.

‘I don’t know if this is helpful, but when the door closed on us, I caught a quick glance of an inner wall. It was revealed just as the grate closed and the internal door sprang loose.’

‘If Mitchell is correct, and I suspect that he is, there is the possibility of four walls of impenetrable obsidian, but we can’t go on that assumption. We need to see for ourselves and the only way we can do this is to escape this room first,’ said Richard.

‘Well, that’s bloody logical,’ retorted Fred as an amount of shuffling, swearing and complaining at having to share two torches could be heard.

‘It’s rather stifling in here,’ muttered Julia as she switched on her torch and began to study the wall paintings in detail.

‘They’re simply magnificent,’ agreed Mitchell.

‘Yes, but not as idealised as the usual Mayan work. These are far more natural, more representative of true Mayan life. Look at this one,’ said Richard as he pointed to a lifelike picture of a child.

A shuffle of bodies revealed that everyone was once again focussed to the task at hand. The ensuring minutes were spent searching every nook, cranny and hollow, but to no avail. The room was supremely manufactured and reinforced, making escape through the side impossible. The floor had a slight crack which had allowed them to see into the darkness below, but this was of no benefit.

‘Its bloody useless,’ cursed Fred.

‘I’d have to agree,’ added Julia in obvious frustration.

‘Well, the last time I checked, a room was made up of six sides. Four walls, a floor and a roof and as far as I can tell the roof remains unexplored,’ suggested Richard, his voice full of sarcasm but with a humorous lilt. ‘I need someone to give me a lift.’

Fred volunteered but was unsuccessful in hoisting Richard up the seven foot high gap, so Redmond and Mitchell combined their strength by forming a trampoline effect with their hands.

‘Hurry up, Rich. Either you need to go on a diet or we need to find another way to do this,’ complained Mitchell.

Richard ignored him and attempted to take a common sense approach to his dilemma.

To date the builder of this place had proved himself a fine artisan, so he saw no reason for that to change. Logic told him that the weight of the lift would need to be supported by the framework and load bearing corners. Any weakness or possible trapdoor would have to be away from these areas, leaving the centre as the most probable location. This was where he needed to search; so, with sore shoulders, a cramped neck and aching arms, Richard began probing the plaster in search of any obvious joins.

‘Come on, Rich, I’m dying here,’ grumbled Mitchell.

‘Patience … patience, my friend. I may have found something,’ replied Richard as he detected a tiny ridge that had been painted over to conceal the difference in plaster heights. ‘Pass me my small chisel,’ he ordered as Julia handed him the tool of choice and he began digging. Richard knew that such glorious paintings should be in a museum, so it caused him considerable pain to be acting like the common vandal, but he ignored his discomfort and continued.

The breakthrough came two minutes later when the plaster broke and collapsed on the group below. They hollered at him in disgust, using expletives of all varieties, but to their credit, they did not waiver in their duty and continued to hold Richard until he gave a yelp of joy. ‘I’ve found it! It’s stiff, but I can open it.’

Richard expected a draft of air, warm or cold, but he received none. It was as stagnant outside the lift as it was inside, but he did not let this dampen his spirits. Using what little power remained in his arms, Richard pulled himself up through the hole and shone a torch about.

What he saw brought shivers of fear.

The lift was encased in a massive wooden frame held together with solid, interlocking wooden junctions resembling the dovetailed joints used in modern carpentry. These frames ran along each edge and formed an ‘X’ shape on all flat sides before running up to a square along the top four corners. A large, reinforced wood block on each corner of the lift held an impressive multi-plaited rope that extended skyward like a pyramid until it was halfway to the roof.

With the underpowered torch, Richard could just make out what appeared to be a solid stone with two hollowed centres. The rope extended through one opening and back into the other before shooting off through a tiny gap in the wall. Adding to his woes was the solid obsidian walls and casing the structure was fixed to. Even with specialised tools, it would be impossible to break through without risking the safety of the entire group.

Richard mentally went through his options. Climbing from the lift down to the base of the shaft was not a possibility. It was simply too far and they did not have enough rope. Climbing up was just as challenging and it did not take much intelligence to realise that the rope was probably linked to the Calendar Round that got them into trouble in the first instance. Gaining access was likely to be as hard as it was to uncover the code Gillian was seeking.

Still, something was bugging Richard. Notwithstanding the resin-coated rope that had begun to stretch was the fact that this tunnel was still man-made. In order for them to manufacture such a shaft, they must have had access. But where was the question.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The sun had barely crawled over the horizon as Adam kicked off his blankets and placed his purple socked feet onto the wool carpet. He gazed around his room and sighed. His room was reasonably clean, but he had painted it in various tones of creams and browns which was hardly creative. Even his high-backed timber bed and matching chest of drawers were shaded to suit the cream and brown striped curtains and bed linen. The rest of his small flat was much the same, only broken up by the lack of clutter, collection of books and three bright paintings in his living room.

Adam paused for a moment to consider the paintings. They were unique and by an unknown artist. He had an antique dealer appraise the paintings and the strange disk willed to him by his paternal grandmother after her death six years ago. Unfortunately, and much to his disappointment, they were unable to place the exact origin or allocate a suitable price. There was simply nothing on the market with which to compare them except that they eventually agreed on the Mayan heritage.

Adam had been fascinated by them and after months of determined research, he had discovered that each painting depicted a different Mayan landmark. One was a step pyramid in Palenque, another pyramid in Teotihuacán and the third was still unknown to him. Also present in each of the vibrant, sun-soaked pictures was the same man standing at the base of each of the buildings. Adam eventually concluded that his regal coloured garb and headpiece made him someone of importance, but who he was remained a mystery.

Adam shook off his early morning reflections and proceeded to rummage sightless around the top of his bedside table, knocking off an unwashed coffee cup and a Reader’s Digest magazine before he located his semi-frameless glasses. He was short-sighted and would usually put his contact lenses on first thing in the morning, but it was still only 6 am and his eyes were grainy from the lack of sleep last night.