The Death Relic (18 page)

He nodded. ‘Flooding was a problem for the Spanish. They expanded our city without strengthening the levees, and that was big mistake. The flood in 1629 was so bad that parts of the city remained underwater for five years. Eventually, the Spanish crown did something desperate. They built a drain to save the city. First they took our island, then they took our lake.’

‘That’s horrible. I bet the Aztec city looked gorgeous in the middle of the water.’

He shrugged. He had never seen Tenochtitlan. He had been born 500 years too late. ‘I must admit, there is one thing that gives me comfort about the fate of the Aztecs.’

‘What’s that?’ she asked.

He pointed at the Metropolitan Cathedral. It loomed high above the plaza, its bell towers stretching towards the sky. It truly was an impressive church.

She nodded solemnly. ‘Your faith in God.’

He laughed at the suggestion. ‘No! I am not a religious man. I am talking about the building. The
building
brings me comfort.’

‘You mean its beauty?’

‘I mean its
condition
. The stupid thing is falling down.’

‘Really?’

He laughed louder. ‘The Spanish thought they were so smart when they drained the lake. But guess what? The water had to go somewhere. In this case, it went under our island. For centuries, it has been eating away at the rock. The lakebed is dry, but our city is sinking – several inches every year. Look at the towers. They are all crooked. I call them the Leaning Towers of Zócalo. I am old man, but my spine is straighter than them. Someday they will fall over. And when they do, I will laugh and thank Cuauhtémoc. I will tell tourists that his ghost knocked them over as revenge for losing his city.’

Until that moment, she hadn’t really noticed the towers. But after his comments, she couldn’t help but notice how crooked they were. ‘I’ll be damned. I totally missed that.’

‘Have you been inside the cathedral?’ he asked.

‘Not yet.’

‘Do not waste your time – unless you like scaffolding. Everywhere you look, there is scaffolding. It is holding up the arches. It is holding up the ceiling. It is even holding up Jesús. He should be on a cross,
not
on scaffolding. I am not Catholic, and even I know that.’

She fought the urge to smile.

‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘have you heard of “the watch list”?’

‘You mean the criminal watch list?’

He shook his head. ‘I mean, the
monument
watch list.’

‘Nope. Never heard of it.’

‘Historians studied famous monuments all around the world, and they picked the ones that you should visit before it is too late. Catedral Metropolitana is high on that list.’

She considered his statement. ‘In that case, would you mind taking my picture in front of it? I want to get a photo before it falls down.’

Over the next fifteen minutes, Tiffany took several photographs of the plaza. She walked to one end of the square and snapped some pictures. Then she walked to the other end and did the same. But instead of focusing her lens on the buildings and monuments, like every other tourist in the Zócalo, she was more concerned with traffic patterns and escape routes.

As families strolled past and young kids played, she tried to imagine what they would do if they heard a gunshot. Would they freeze? Would they scatter? Or would they put their faith in God and run towards the cathedral? And what about the guards at the National Palace? It was no longer the official residence of the Mexican President, but it was still a government building. Would they come running, or would they lock their doors to protect their own?

Tiffany continued to ponder such things as she walked towards the northeast corner of the plaza. She noticed a steady stream of people coming and going from that direction, but she couldn’t understand why. As far as she could tell, there was nothing over there except an intersection. And then she saw it. A set of stairs leading
under
the plaza.

She went closer and peered into the stairwell, unsure what she would find in the shadows. Several feet underground, there was a blue-and-white sign that read, ‘Zócalo’. Next to it was the symbol for the Mexico City Metro system. For some reason, this major station on Line 2 was practically hidden from the plaza. No signs or symbols on the street above. Just two iron railings and a long set of stone stairs leading into the depths of Paco’s island.

Just to be safe, she made sure there were no surprises in the station before calling in her field assessment. Using a burner phone, she dialled the number from memory and waited for the team leader to answer. She knew what was at stake. The next phase of their mission would be based on her evaluation. If the plaza wouldn’t work for a ransom drop, she had the authority to move it to a secondary location – even if that meant waiting for another day.

‘So,’ he asked her, ‘what do you think?’

‘I think it’s perfect.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m positive. There’s no way they’ll catch me.’

‘If they do, they’ll kill you.’

She smiled. ‘Not if I kill them first.’

Payne didn’t bother to criticize Maria for leaving the
SUV
. He was too focused on Hamilton’s cargo to worry about her disobedience.

The back of the Hummer was filled with artefacts, each divided by category and stored in a handmade display case with removable wooden slats. The case stretched almost the whole length and width of the trunk, as if it were custom-fitted to the vehicle. Large objects such as painted ceramic vases, clay statues and intricate jade masks were packed in bubble wrap and given their own individual compartments. Meanwhile, smaller items, such as jewellery, stone figurines and pottery shards, were relegated to plastic bags and crammed in the remaining spaces. With a depth of 24 inches, the case held more than 100 items.

As the lone archaeologist in the group, Maria stepped forward and examined the relics. Despite having very little experience with Mesoamerican art, she had spent enough time in museums around the world to know an important find when she saw one. And this qualified.

Maria held up a plastic bag. Inside was a carved stone figure depicting a Mayan god with an elaborate headdress. ‘Do you know what a collector would pay for this?’

Payne shrugged. ‘No idea.’

‘Depending on its age, probably tens of thousands of dollars.’

‘For an action figure? It’s not even in its original box.’

She ignored the wisecrack. ‘The Mayan civilization is more than four thousand years old. If this object came from the Preclassic Era, it might even predate Christ.’ She handed it to Jones, who gazed at its features. ‘I’ll be the first to admit that this isn’t my area of expertise, but at first glance, I’d say that Hamilton made a substantial discovery. On the open market, the contents of this trunk are worth … well … I honestly don’t know. But I
guarantee
it’s a lot.’

Jones grimaced at her assessment but said nothing. In his mind, it still wasn’t the right time to ruin their moods. He would wait until they had a little more time to examine the bounty before he revealed the bad news about Hamilton.

Payne glanced at Maria. ‘What did you mean by that?’

‘Which part?’ she asked.

‘The part where you said this wasn’t your area of expertise.’

‘Well, it
isn’t
my area of expertise. Furthermore, you know it isn’t.’

Payne didn’t like her tone, and he didn’t like her use of “furthermore”. The word was dripping with condescension. ‘Excuse me?’

She glared at him. ‘You know damn well what my specialty is. Or don’t you remember roughing me up while I was searching for Christian artefacts in Italy?’

‘Roughing you up? What in the hell are you talking about?’

Her voice was filled with venom. ‘Oh, I see how it is. You’ve beaten up so many women that you can’t possibly remember them all. Well, let me refresh your memory. When you tracked me down in Milan, you grabbed me by my hair, threw me on the hood of a car, then shoved a gun under my chin while threatening to blow my head off. Or was that someone else?’

‘Hold up,’ he said, confused. ‘Is that how you remember it?’

‘Yes! That’s how I remember it!’

He shook his head. ‘Funny, because I remember it differently to you. I remember you and your mentor being international fugitives at the time, accused of mass murder and twenty other charges that would’ve gotten you fried. That forced me to take extra precautions during our first encounter.
Furthermore
– to use your word – I recall saving your ass on multiple occasions, clearing both of your names and helping you with the biggest discovery of your career.’

‘Yeah, but—’

‘
Furthermore
,’ he said angrily, ‘I also remember a phone call from you less than twenty-four hours ago when you were crying like a schoolgirl and begging for my help. So it might be nice if you dropped the arrogance for a little while and showed me some goddamned respect.’

Furious, she cursed him in Italian.

Payne turned towards Jones. ‘I don’t deserve this shit! I really don’t! You need to talk to your wife right now and get her ass in line, or you can handle this mess on your own. As far as I’m concerned, there are more than enough ungrateful people in the world. If they happen to lose their queen, it isn’t going to bother me in the least.’

‘Jon—’

‘DJ, I’m serious! She’s been giving me attitude ever since we arrived. First at the hotel, then in the car. Now she’s accusing me of beating women? What the hell is that about? I asked her a legitimate question about her area of expertise, and she hits me with a “furthermore”. Really? After all I’ve done for her? I ought to take that “furthermore” and shove it up her ass.’ Payne turned his head and glared at Maria. ‘But I would never do that because “I don’t hurt women.” ’

Cursing under his breath, he stormed away from the Hummer and headed to the far end of the rocky shoal. Not only to calm down, but to give the unhappy couple a chance to talk in private. Payne knew his verbal confrontation with Maria would put Jones in an awkward position, forcing him to get between his best friend and his ex-girlfriend, but Payne didn’t regret anything he’d said. He truly meant it when he said he would walk away from the situation. Although it was against his nature to turn his back on someone in trouble, the only person who appeared to be in peril was Terrence Hamilton, who was a total stranger to them. With Payne’s military connections, he knew he could place a single call to the US Embassy in Mexico and convince them to assemble a team to investigate Hamilton’s disappearance. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he regretted not doing that at the very beginning. Heck, the only reason he hadn’t was because of Jones. Or, more specifically, Jones’s feelings for Maria.

Payne knew Jones cared about her – more than he was willing to admit – and that he wanted to prove his worth by rescuing her from danger. As someone who’d been through a similar situation with his ex-girlfriend Ariane, he understood Jones’s desire to be a protector and wanted to help him in any way possible. At the same time, though, he knew he had to step in at some point and speak up for Hamilton. It was one thing to be a good wingman and help his buddy work things out with an old flame. It was another thing completely if Hamilton died or got hurt while Jones and Maria struggled through their issues.

Payne thought Hamilton deserved better than that.

He deserved their full attention.

If Jones and Maria didn’t get their act together soon, he would be forced to call in reinforcements from the US Embassy. His conscience wouldn’t give him a choice.

Trying to calm down, Payne picked up a flat rock and tried to skip it across the undulating surface of the Caribbean. The rock skipped four times before it was swallowed by a turquoise wave. A split-second later, the wave crashed into a nearby reef, sending spray high into the air. Other than the surf and the wind, the only other sound was the rumble of a distant motor. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he gazed to the northwest and spotted two jet skis running parallel to the crowded beach, both riders zipping along at high speed.

Payne smiled as he thought back to a recent trip to Clearwater, Florida. He and Jones had rented WaveRunners near Pier 60 and had taken them into the Gulf of Mexico, where they’d lucked upon a school of dolphins. For more than ten minutes, the dolphins had followed them wherever they went. Not in a predatory way. More like a game of follow-the-leader. Back and forth, side by side, as fast as they could go. It was, without a doubt, one of the coolest things he had ever experienced. Two species, intrigued by each other, sharing the open sea.

Unfortunately, his smile quickly faded when he refocused on the current situation. For whatever reason, Maria was harbouring some serious anger towards him, and it had reared its ugly head on two occasions in the past few hours. Thankfully, neither instance had put them at risk, but he realized it was only a matter of time before it did. If the two of them were going to work together, Payne knew they had to come to an understanding. Otherwise, his involvement would cause more damage than good.

For Jones’s sake, he was willing to try.

He hoped Maria would, too.

Payne kept his distance for a few more minutes before heading back to the Hummer. Jones spotted his approach and intercepted him about 20 feet from the vehicle.

‘How ya doin’?’ Jones asked in a playful voice.

‘Not great, but better than before.’

‘Are you sure? Because I’d be happy to drive into the city and buy you some Prozac. Down here, they make it themselves and sell it
behind
the pharmacy.’

Payne smiled. ‘As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass.’

‘What about a beer? Maybe a Dos Equis or a Tecate. Oh, I know! What about a hooker? I bet they’re in the same alley as the Prozac.’

Payne declined again. ‘No thanks.’

Jones took a step closer and lowered his voice. ‘Listen, I know you’re tempted to bail on this, and if you did, I wouldn’t blame you at all. Maria’s behaviour was way out of line. That being said, I’m asking as your best friend, please hang in there a little while longer. I really need your help on this one.’