Treasure of the Mayan King (2012) (3 page)

Chauncy was even more perplexed. He took a cautious sip from his wine, hoping he could figure out what was going on. “Okay. I give up. Why are you congratulating me?”

Dr. Sova unfolded his legs and leaned forward, a look of concentration on his face, his wine glass in one hand and the cigar in the other. “Please allow me to explain. What I am about to say is very serious. You see, I really wasn’t late to pick you up from the airstrip as I made you believe. In fact, we were observing you, watching the both of you from a distance with binoculars.”

Chauncy took another sip. “You were? Why?”

Dr. Sova’s eyes flashed with emotion as he glared out at the camp. “What we have out there is no small, insignificant project! This is a very important and serious undertaking. It has been many decades since a burial tomb of a king has been discovered. The translation of the temple staircase has enlightened the world about this new king, but it has also enlightened me about something else. There are amazing things to be discovered from that temple, amazing things.

“The reason I have invited an international crew was for the purpose of finding one man, just one that I could take into my confidence. I intend on grooming that man to become my partner, and you, Mr. Rollock, are that man! I need a person that I can use in the continuation of this project. There is so much more that I have read on that staircase that I have not revealed to the world, as of yet.” He leaned back in his chair, waiting to gauge Chauncy’s reaction.

Chauncy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dr. Sova wanted to take him under his wings and train him? He took another sip from his glass and let the wine sit on his tongue for a moment, as if the liquid would somehow wake him up from this dream. But it wasn’t a dream; he had heard correctly. He took another sip, still thinking furiously.

This was the chance of a lifetime. What others would give to be personally trained under the tutelage of the great Dr. Sova! And now here he was, Chauncy Rollock, sitting and talking with the famed linguist himself, drinking expensive French wine in his tent.

“Why me?” he finally managed to ask.

Dr. Sova put his wineglass down, stood up, and began pacing the room. With the hand that held his cigar he tapped his temple. “Because you are a thinker Mr. Rollock. Oh, don’t get me wrong, those men and women out there are fine, hardworking professionals, all of them. But you my friend, you are different, you are exceptional! I have observed every man and woman at the airstrip, including you. I had given orders to the pilot beforehand, stating that he would deliver the archaeologists and scientists and then leave immediately, not waiting for me or anyone else to show up, and that he would tell them nothing. I did that on purpose, Mr. Rollock, in order to observe them from a distance. Stressful situations are the most wonderful way to test people’s mettle, to see how they think and react. You were the only one that used powers of perception and discernment.

“It was obvious to me that you are the analytical type. As soon as you realized that the pilot had left you and Mr. Estlund alone, you immediately set about finding a way to survive. Not Mr. Estlund! He simply sat down on his luggage, baking in the hot tropical sun. Meanwhile, you were busy trying to find a way out of your predicament. You found a place for your luggage in the shade, away from the harsh sunlight, and then you proceeded to examine your surroundings and find a way out. You are an analytical multi-tasker. Is my evaluation correct?”

“Well…I suppose.” Chauncy was proud that Dr. Sova had taken note.

Dr. Sova continued. “Yes, of course. Next point: on the way over here in my vehicle, I keenly observed that you were making mental notes as to where the temple was located. You were looking out the windows, keeping track of our movements. You even took out your notebook and drew a map, did you not?”

“Yes, that is correct.” Chauncy replied as he pulled out his notepad and opened it to reveal the crude drawing.

“But your colleague, Mr. Estlund, was looking at the palms of his hands,” Dr. Sova stated. “God knows where his mind was! What if my vehicle had broken down? You would have known how to return to the airstrip. Not him.”

“You saw all of that?” Chauncy asked, surprised.

“That and much more my friend, when we arrived at this camp, your associate was too busy worrying about his luggage. You, however, were observing the details of the whole operation, your eyes missed nothing. In fact, I would venture to say that your notebook contains another map, one of the camp. Is that correct?”

Chauncy turned the page of his notebook, grinning broadly as he showed Dr. Sova the schematic he had drawn. “Could I dare take the liberty of making a suggestion? The latrines are upwind from base camp - not a good idea, if you know what I mean?”

Dr. Sova laughed out loud. “Very good, my friend, that was very observant of you and on top of that you are gifted with a sense of humor.”

Becoming serious again, he said, “And yet none of those people out there were able to see all of these details! Your brain, Mr. Rollock, you are using it. You are using your critical thinking abilities. The rest of those people just flow along a stream like dead fish in a river! They simply keep moving with the knowledge they have been taught in their books…. But they can’t think outside the box; they lack that ability. You are different.”

“Why, thank you.” Chauncy said with a smile.

“However, there is one major fault with you!” Dr. Sova thundered in a stern voice.

Chauncy’s smile evaporated. “Uh…and what would that be?”

“I noticed on our way over here, while we were in the vehicle, that you took your wallet out, opened it, and rubbed your fingers over a picture of a woman who I am assuming is your wife. You seem to suffer from homesickness, my friend. That weakness can be your undoing.”

Chauncy could almost physically feel his ego deflate. It was obvious the man had seen every subtle nuance; nothing had escaped his quick and discerning eye. “I…well…I guess you’re right,” Chauncy said.

“Ah! Do not fret, mon ami,” the doctor reassured in a friendly tone. “I’m sure that we can work on that small detail.”

Chauncy looked up, a smile on his face. He raised his wineglass and drained it. He felt not just respect, but friendship.

“Tell me something, Doctor, why did you decide to become a Mayanist?”

The doctor, still pacing, stopped and sat down. “I am a master linguist; my one love is the study of languages. Ah yes, now that is my passion! I quickly learned and then mastered most of the Latin-based languages. I was going to progress on to learn the Oriental languages next.

“Then one day during a visit here to the Yucatan I realized my real calling in life. And what a marvelous undertaking it has been, to learn the Mayan language and decipher ancient writings from a lost civilization. It is truly a task for the mind and the imagination, two things that are most important to me. And now look where it has brought us. That temple out there, that grand pyramid of the past, is just waiting for us to uncover its long-held secrets. Who knows what wonders await us? It is very exciting!”

Dr. Sova’s eyes sparkled as he spoke; his voice had an unmistakable fire. It was evident his whole heart was dedicated to his vocation. He began pacing the living room again, his face serious.

“There was another reason I decided to become a Mayanist. It is because of the people of this world.”

“What do you mean?” Chauncy asked.

Dr. Sova stopped pacing and looked directly at Chauncy. “I’ll put it quite simply: I do not suffer stupidity. The majority of the people in this world are imbeciles, Mr. Rollock. They are morons. It’s that simple.”

At first Chauncy thought he was jesting, but the frown on the doctor’s face erased any doubt.

Dr. Sova continued. “Our modern society is run by foolhardy politicians and judges,” Dr. Sova said. “Men spend more time in prison for killing a dog than for the murder of another human! What an outrage of injustice! Pure stupidity! The masses of humanity have been brainwashed by the media - everything is pre-packaged, pre-edited, and pre-digested for them. They no longer need to think or reason; instead it is all done for them. Like blind, stupid sheep they follow.”

Dr. Sova sat down and took a deep breath, his agitation leaving him slowly. He cleared his throat and spoke, visibly and audibly more relaxed; his voice soft, almost gentle. “Ah, but out here in the jungle, I am a free man. I am not burdened by all the madness out there; instead I am liberated by the simple laws of nature. I do as I please and think as I please without the restraints and irritation of useless bureaucracy and management. I have these Mayan hieroglyphs to occupy, soothe, and challenge my mind. The brain, my friend, is a wonderful thing. Use it! Use it wisely and you too will be liberated.”

Chauncy sat back slowly, his mind racing as he thought about everything Dr. Sova had said. The doctor’s dissertation about society and his general dislike for people left Chauncy feeling a little shocked. It was obvious this man had a remarkable mind, one of the finest, but he also had a very low tolerance for human folly. Chauncy struggled to comment.

“Well…I hope I won’t disappoint you.”

“That’s why I have surrounded myself with professionals like you, Mr. Rollock. I have a tendency to insulate myself from idiots.”

“I’d rather you call me Chauncy.”

Dr. Sova chuckled as he rose from his seat. “Come now - we have much work to do.”

The work on the temple progressed swiftly. The international team worked with few snags, each one

accomplished in their specialty. Except for the paleontologists; they waited on the sidelines for their opportunity to analyze the Mayan king’s skeleton, if and when it was found.

In the meantime, Dr. Sova spent much time with the translators as they attempted to decipher the writings on the temple stairs. It was evident to Chauncy that the relationship between Dr. Sova and the other translators was anything but amicable. They frequently engaged in heated discussions regarding the proper translation of the Mayan glyphs.

Chauncy noticed a distinct change in the doctor’s disposition. He began to distance himself even more from his colleagues more and more as the days passed.

Chauncy tried to follow the discussions, but he quickly lost track. All he could get out of them was that Dr. Sova insisted his translations were more accurate than those of his colleagues. During one particularly heated debate, while they were in Sova’s’ tent, Chauncy was about to make a quick retreat when the fabric of the conference tent shuddered and a worker ripped apart the opening flaps and entered.

“Dr. Sova, we have located the flagstone covering at the top of the pyramid!”

Immediately the team of translators forgot their argument. They all knew what that announcement meant: they now had access to the bowels of the temple.

It took only moments to get to the temple. Their excitement was held in check as the workers slowly lifted the flagstone.

The flagstone cover was lifted up and placed aside; the workers raised their arms triumphantly as they yelled in a victory cry that reverberated throughout the camp. One of the archaeologists atop the pyramid, a Russian, shined his flashlight inside the dark opening as cheers erupted from the crowd. Their cheers were short-lived, however.

“Arrgh,” Dr. Sova exclaimed. He was looking down the tunnel alongside the Russian worker, Chauncy beside him. The triangular tunnel was small, barely large enough to fit a human. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the abrupt stop a few feet down.

“How do you like that?” Dr. Sova continued. “The ancient Mayas filled the tunnel with debris. How inherently rude of them! It will take quite some time to remove this material from the temple.”

He then turned to Chauncy. “Due to the new state of affairs, the project has been woefully delayed. I’m afraid there isn’t much for you to do here. I want you to come with me to Merida for a week or so.”

“Merida? Why do you want me to go up there?”

Dr. Sova chuckled as he spoke softly so as to be out of earshot from Estlund. “I own a Hacienda there and my wife will fix us some good meals. Besides, there is something very important I need to explain to you. Don’t worry about these men - they have much work to do here. As for Mr. Estlund, as far as I am concerned, he can sit here and examine his hands. Come Chauncy, let us go!”

Chapter Three

Through the plane’s window the lush green jungle far below contrasted beautifully with the clear blue sky. With a bit of imagination, the land far below could have been a gigantic stretch of green carpet interrupted only by occasional columns of smoke wafting skyward from the fires of local farmers. Up here with the air so clear and the land so far below one could almost feel free from the constraints of civilization.

All too quickly reality rushed back upon Chauncy as the plane started its descent. The sky gave way to rapidly approaching ground. Chauncy spotted the small dirt runway as the plane banked toward it and a familiar feeling crept into his stomach. He hated landing. Thankfully the landing was uneventful. Stepping from the plane Chauncy saw a building near the end of the runway partially hidden in the jungle. As they walked closer he could see it was a large colonial-style house.

Dr. Sova smiled as he guided Chauncy along, the pilot trailing behind with the luggage. “I bought this home a few years ago, when I first became interested in the Mayan language. I figured this would be a good spot from which to conduct my studies: close enough to several large temples yet secluded enough to allow me peace of mind. The original structure was built sometime in the late 1800s but it had fallen into disrepair. I have refurbished it and retrofitted the building with all the modern amenities, the best that money can buy.”

“I would expect nothing less of you, Doc,” Chauncy joked.

The ancient trees towering over the hacienda swayed majestically in the afternoon breeze. A cobblestone roundabout connected the patio to a dirt road that led to the airstrip, then disappeared deeper into the jungle. In its center a three-tiered waterfall gurgled and splashed. The breezes and the splashing of the waterfall created an effect of absolute tranquility. Chauncy’s survey of the landscape was interrupted as two young Mayan men approached smiling graciously. Dr. Sova introduced them. “Ah, Chauncy, these are my gardeners, Lucio and Jose.”