Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) (11 page)

It was difficult to imagine her condoning her husband’s adventurous scheme. I had a feeling she’d think dirty work was best left to professionals like policemen. “They are paid to put their lives on the line, after all,” I could hear her say.

Was that why she was along on this trip? To keep an eye on Clark?

I made another note, scribbling “S?” in the margin of my paper and slipping the note back among the pages. There was more than one mystery to be solved here, it seemed, and I was determined to get some answers. I didn’t stop to question my motivation, choosing to lump it under “Research for My Articles,” even though I knew that wasn’t true.

I wouldn’t be getting any answers now, though. Altun Ha was much closer to our hotel, and was located in Belize, not Guatemala. Already our SUV, in the middle of the procession, was slowing to a crawl. Elaine, looking eagerly out of her window, broke off in mid-sentence, and leaned forward, bouncing in her seat with excitement.

“Will you be climbing any of the temples today, Elaine?” I asked, sliding my notebook into my tote.

“Count on it,” Dan drawled, sounding less than pleased and Elaine gave him a poke with one pointy elbow.

“You old frump!” she scolded affectionately. “It isn’t as if I make you go with me, you know. But I don’t know why you even came if all you’re going to do is sit in the shade somewhere. You could do that at home.”

“I’m not the only one who doesn’t feel a need to put my head in the clouds,” Dan retorted, looking at me. “Allison won’t climb either, right?”

I shrugged, recalling my last horrendous attempt to scale the steps of a temple. The thought of a repeat performance was terrifying. But I would have been all right if I hadn’t been pushed. Could I screw up my courage and make the climb? My glance darted over to Elaine. Easily in her late sixties, she didn’t have a moment’s hesitation.

“Maybe I will and maybe I won’t,” I hedged.

Dan’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “That’s what I like. Sure and swift decision-making.”

“Excuse me,” the professor broke in as our vehicle came to a halt. “Would you mind if I squeezed past you?” Even as he spoke, he was sliding by me and, in a blink, had thrust open the SUV’s door. He leapt to the ground and strode off.

I wondered if he’d share our vehicle on the ride home or make good his escape and avoid further verbal sparring with Elaine. Hiding a smile, I climbed out, too, stretching arms and legs and gazing around me.

Just as in the jungle near Tikal, I was astounded by the dense foliage and varying shades of green. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the warm, moist air that smelled of the rich, dark earth.

As I pondered how I could convey this sensation to my readers, Clark shouted for the group’s attention. Obediently, we clustered together and listened as he gave us a brief synopsis of Altun Ha’s centuries-long history.

“Altun Ha was named for the nearest village and is Mayan for Rockstone Pond,” he told us, beaming a smile in all directions. “It’s believed people were living here by 200
B.C.
and the site remained an active settlement until 900
A.D.
The greatest archaeological find here so far has been a jade carving of the Sun God.” He paused for dramatic effect. “It’s six inches high and weighs nearly ten pounds! Solid jade!”

There were suitable
oohs
and
aahs
from the group and I’m sure I wasn’t the only person wondering how much such a find was worth.

“Feel free to explore the ruins at your leisure,” he continued, spreading his arms wide in a sweeping gesture. “The hotel has packed us all a picnic lunch, so let’s meet back here around one o’clock.”

“One o’clock,” Dan grumbled in a voice meant to carry. “Where I come from, lunch is served at noon.”

If Clark heard the disparaging words, he didn’t acknowledge them. He’d turned and moved away from the group, walking next to Sylvia. Their heads nearly touched as he bent to hear her. Soon, other trekkers had filed in behind them and they were lost from sight.

I caught my lower lip between my teeth. Maybe I’d spend a little time with Sylvia today, I decided. We could chat a bit, maybe over lunch. It would be work, I knew, to get her to open up. She seemed so tightly bottled, shying away from conversation beyond the cocktail variety.

Pulling on my hat to insulate and protect myself from the heat, I fell into line. Apparently, Mart was once more scheduled to bring up the rear of the parade. I could see him up ahead, leaning against the huge buttressed trunk of a tree.

He might be able to make sense of Clark’s coded message, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Recalling his initial response to my article, I kept my head down until I’d gone well past him.

Once we’d begun the trek from where the SUVs were parked, it was easy to forget about Mart. The jungle closed in around us, so I had to focus my attention on watching my step, avoiding the jutting roots of trees.

Along the way, we paused several times to examine huge overgrown mounds at the side of the path. Through the line, word traveled back from Clark that these mounds were unexcavated stelae, totally covered by jungle growth and towering over our heads. I stretched out a hand and touched the thick carpet of greenery. So thick as to be almost impenetrable, it was hard to imagine that beneath it lurked one of the gigantic carved monuments.

I was trying to picture the stone hidden within, imagining the thrill of being the one to uncover it after centuries, when suddenly there was a shriek and a flurry just past my right shoulder. Something shot at me, so close my eyes couldn’t focus and I fell back, sending up a shriek of my own. The other sound came again and I recognized it with fear. It was a squawk, and the flapping just inches in front of me was being made by what surely must be a gigantic bird. I got a glimpse of pointed beak and sharp talons as it hovered for the space of a heartbeat. Then, with a mighty whoosh of its wings, it rose up and up, disappearing into the treetops. But the shrieking went on and on.

It wasn’t until Dan Underwood grasped me firmly by the shoulders and gave me a shake that I realized the sound was coming from me. My heart pounded in my ears and my breath was coming in short, powerful gasps. My fear had left me dazed and it took a moment for me to orient myself. When I did, it was with great embarrassment.

I’d sunk to my knees, cowering behind the shelter of the overgrown stelae. All around me, other trekkers had stopped to stare, gawking but not helping. Only Dan had stepped forward, squatting down beside me and delivering his own form of aid.

Now, his forehead creased into a hundred wrinkles of varying depth and his liquid eyes were serious and concerned. “Allison, for corn’s sake! Are you okay? What happened?”

I felt like a fool. My silly phobia had been revealed to everyone. I managed a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry,” I said in a voice like a whisper. “I feel so stupid. But, see, there was this bird! A huge bird!” I stretched out my hands to indicate its size, then shuddered and covered my eyes at the memory.

“You’re afraid of birds? That’s it? It didn’t bite you or anything?” Dan pressed questions at me.

Shaking my head, I looked just at him, avoiding the faces of the others. “No, it didn’t bite. It just flew.”

Dan sat back, his hands dropping off my shoulders. “Well, that’s what birds do, you know. Fly.”

“I … I know. They just scare me,” I finished lamely.

“So long as you’re not hurt, Allison. We’ll all try and keep any birds out of your way.” He stood up and pulled me to my feet, then addressed the crowd. “She’s fine. Just a scare. Nothing to worry about. We can all move on.”

The crowd dispersed slowly and I smiled my thanks at those who expressed concern.

“You just stick with us today, dear,” Dan said, putting one pudgy arm around my shoulder.

Elaine took the other side and got a firm grip on my elbow. “We’ll watch out for you.”

Ungratefully, I thought,
Terrific! There goes my chance to try and talk to Sylvia!

But I was wrong.

Chapter Thirteen

We’d been wandering among the ruins for nearly an hour when Elaine announced her intention of climbing the steps of a temple. I’d fully recovered from my encounter with the bird, but Dan, in his role as my bodyguard, suggested I wait a while longer before attempting such a potentially dangerous move.

So it happened that the two of us went looking for a place to sit down for a while. And we found one. When I saw a big stone slab occupied only by Sylvia, I pushed Dan in that direction.

“Let’s go keep Sylvia company,” I offered generously. “She looks lonely.”

Indeed, she did, sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her, straw hat resting on her knees and eyes intent on examining some pebbles at her side.
The caption to that picture would read “Bored Rigid,”
I thought with a trace of humor.

She looked up when we approached and her expression rapidly changed from blank as a post to one of minor irritation. Then, with resignation, a thin, tight smile appeared.

“Hello,” she greeted us as we made ourselves at home.

“Hi! Hope you don’t mind if we join you?” I asked. “We needed to get out of the sun and you seem to have found just the right place.” I looked around me with a great show of interest.

“So, Sylvia, how are you enjoying our journey?” Dan removed his canvas fly-fishing hat and flapped it in front of his face. “Sure is hot enough.”

No one could argue with that. Sylvia bobbed her perfectly coifed head. How did she manage to look so put together when the rest of us were falling apart? I wondered.

“It’s okay, here, I guess,” she answered Dan, lifting her shoulders in dismissal. “I mean, it isn’t Paris, is it?”

Ah, Paris. That would suit her
, I thought.
Museums, shopping, civilization
.

“Don’t ask me,” I chuckled. “This is my first big trip.”

Sylvia turned and looked at me for a long, silent moment, as if she were assessing me and I came up lacking. “Poor you,” she drawled. “Starting here.”

How on earth had she ever linked up with Action Man Clark? He of the jungle and safari suits. She of the country club. Only one way to find out.

“So how did you and Clark meet? Childhood sweethearts?” I suggested.

She uncrossed her ankles then crossed them again the other way. “Years ago. At a fundraiser for the symphony. We were both on the organizing committee.”

“And it was love at first sight,” Dan put in, a big smile spreading across his face. “I know because I was there,” he told me in an aside.

“Really?”

“Why, sure! Elaine and I had been season ticket holders for years. We’re quite active with the symphony, aren’t we, Sylvia?”

“Oh, yes. Quite.” Her tone implied she was less than thrilled by their activity, and, for a moment, I could sympathize. A little Underwoods would go a long, long way.

“It was the wedding of the year, of course,” Dan adopted a socialite’s clipped voice. “At least, that’s what all the ladies told me.”

“I’d imagine it was,” I put in, picturing the incredibly thin Sylvia as a radiant, perfectly groomed bride.

“Ancient history now,” Sylvia spoke matter-of-factly, slamming the door on that topic.

I pressed on. “So, Clark’s been at the zoo for quite a long time, then?” This was information I could easily obtain from the zoo, but it made a good lead-in.

Sylvia sighed and I knew she didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to talk about anything, at all. But her social training shone through and I was graced with another flash of smile.

“More than ten years. My husband has seen the zoo through plenty of changes, Miss Belsar. When he took it on, it was heavily in debt. Now, it turns a profit every year and has never been more popular with the public.”

I recalled Mart’s words and his criticism of Clark for being totally consumed with making money at the expense of other equally important issues. “Plenty of fundraising and special promotions, right?”

Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, as if she knew what I was getting at. “That’s right,” she said curtly. “It’s been a very successful approach.”

I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been hearing.”

“I’m sure that isn’t all you’ve been hearing.”

I shifted on the hard surface of the rock before answering. “Lots of people tell me lots of things.”

“Ooh, I’ll say!” Dan interrupted with a hoot and we both gave a start. He’d been sitting so quietly, I’d forgotten he was even there. “I know I’ve done my share, eh, Allison?”

“That’s for sure,” I quipped, only half in jest. “You’ve given me enough information for a year’s worth of articles.” I turned back to Sylvia. “Seriously, though, I have heard other opinions regarding zoo management.”

“From Mart Lawler, of course.”

I shrugged. There seemed no need for an answer. As a journalist, it’s my job to examine both sides of an issue and present them to the public in a balanced, unbiased way so they can then make educated decisions. That’s a responsibility I take quite seriously and one I shouldn’t have to explain.

Sylvia looked away, off into the trees, her hands bending the brim of her straw hat back and forth.

All around us, the sounds of the forest pressed in. The rustle of leaves as unseen animals scurried hither and yon, the sighing sound from overhead where the breeze was able to penetrate the forest’s canopy. Closer, the sounds were very human — talking, laughing. Dan had distanced himself from our conversation when it took on a confrontational tone and now sat facing the opposite direction, whistling a Broadway show tune.

“You have to understand, Miss Belsar, Mart is a young man,” Sylvia said. “Idealistic. Brash. Arrogant. He hasn’t worked in a traditional fashion before. There are no time clocks in the wilds of Africa. No bosses, either. I think he’s used to playing by his own rules. Doesn’t recognize authority.” Her eyes snapped back to mine and she continued. “He has answers to all the world’s problems, if only people would listen.”

Even though I was currently annoyed with the subject of our conversation, this unqualified critique of Mart was difficult to swallow.