The Death Relic (25 page)

With the vehicle heading straight for her, Tiffany jumped onto the hood of the
SUV
, hoping to avoid the same bloody fate. Except her leap wasn’t necessary. Bro slammed on the brakes and expertly spun the wheel, skidding to a stop a few feet from the
SUV
.

Laughing to himself, he rolled down his window. ‘Now
that’s
how you catch a cab!’

Angel pulled Daniela underneath the
SUV
and urged her to stay quiet. For the first time in his life, he was looking forward to the police arriving.

The wail of approaching sirens was music to his ears.

Tiffany heard the sirens, too, and urged her crew to hurry. Bro’s car was no longer viable, so they split the remaining money between the other two taxis. Chase would drive Tiffany. Bro would pick up Boom. They would meet later that day to discuss what went right and what went wrong. Until then, their main goal was to evade capture.

Tiffany pulled off her gas mask and tossed it into the back of the
SUV
. Chase and Bro followed her lead. To get away clean, they needed to destroy as much of the evidence as possible. That included the bodies of their fallen friends, which they lifted into the
SUV
.

‘Hold up,’ she blurted. ‘Where are the kids?’

Chase shrugged. ‘Cash cut the girl loose. I don’t know where she ran to.’

‘And the boy?’

Bro answered. ‘I dumped him near the street before I killed his father. What can I say? I’m a softy when it comes to kids.’

Chase nodded his approval. ‘Good thinking, Bro.’

‘Thanks, bro.’

She spoke into her earpiece. ‘Boom, you still there?’

‘Sure am,’ he said from the balcony.

‘Give us thirty seconds, then light the firecracker.’

Boom smiled. ‘With pleasure.’

She surveyed the scene one last time before hopping into the bright-green Beetle. Chase floored it in reverse, yanked the steering wheel hard, then shifted into drive. Tyres smoked as he raced out of the plaza.

Angel saw Tiffany’s face and red hair. He also heard her side of the conversation. He wasn’t sure what ‘firecracker’ referred to, but he knew it probably wasn’t good.

His theory was confirmed when he saw the yellow light. It started blinking two feet in front of his face. Until that moment, he hadn’t noticed the tiny detonator mounted on the bottom of the
SUV
. Now it was the only thing he could see. Somewhere inside the vehicle, there were enough explosives to kill a small army, and he was hiding directly underneath them.

‘
Joder!
’ he cursed in Spanish as he crawled to the side of the
SUV
. Then he reached back and grabbed Daniela’s arm. He yanked her out, heaved her over his good shoulder, then sprinted as fast as he could towards the south side of the Zócalo.

Boom stared at the plaza below. Despite the lingering cloud of smoke, he’d only used half his homemade arsenal. More than a dozen devices remained in the rubbish bins to the west and south – devices that could possibly be traced back to him. Just to be safe, he decided to ignite them, too. From his perch, he pressed a few keys on his computer.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

One after another, garbage cans to the south erupted in smoke.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

So did all the cans to the west.

Angel heard the explosions and quickly veered to the east. Daniela bounced on his shoulder as he continued to run. He had no idea where he was going, but he wouldn’t stop running until he saw the street. And he wouldn’t stop searching until he got revenge.

Boom glanced at his watch and smiled. He lived for moments like this.

Four seconds until the firecracker.

The thunder. The fire. The destruction.

Then three seconds.

The plaza would never be the same.

And two seconds.

His grin widened.

Then one.

He whispered a single word: ‘Boom.’

Payne had many talents, but getting secrets from the dead wasn’t one of them. He figured that was more Maria’s field than his. In fact, their two areas of expertise couldn’t be more different. He was great at finding live people and making them dead. She was great at finding dead people and making their pasts come alive. No wonder they argued about everything.

Putting their differences aside, Payne called Maria and told her he had found something in the Hummer that she needed to see. She wanted to know what it was, but he refused to tell her over the phone. He simply said it was significant and she needed to trust him. She sighed in protest but said she’d be there shortly.

Five minutes later, she arrived with Jones.

‘I hope this is important,’ she said. ‘We were making progress in there. We were talking to a tour guide who vaguely remembers Hamilton.’

Payne was hoping for more. ‘And?’

Jones shook his head. ‘That’s pretty much it.’

‘Wow!’ he said sarcastically. ‘Sorry I pulled you away from that. It sounds like you cracked this case wide open. Maybe we can get a sketch artist to do a drawing. Oh, wait! We already know what Hamilton looks like.’

She smiled, knowing she couldn’t argue the point. ‘Which means you found something better?’

He held up the manila envelope. ‘It’s the document Hamilton went to retrieve when he disappeared. At least I think it is. It was in the Hummer.’

‘Where?’ Jones asked.

‘Between the two crates. It was wedged in there pretty good.’

She pointed at it. ‘What does it say?’

‘I don’t know. It’s written in Spanish. But I think I know who wrote it.’

‘Who?’ she demanded.

‘A Franciscan named Diego de Landa.’

Her mouth fell open. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Of course I’m serious. I wouldn’t have called you as a joke.’ He handed her the envelope. As he did, he shook his head. ‘You gotta start trusting me more.’

She pulled out the packet and stared at the name on the title page: ‘Diego de Landa’. The possibilities gave her chills. ‘You’re right, I do. I need to start trusting you more. And you’re right about this, too. This is much more important than what we were doing.’

‘I know. That’s why I called.’

She pointed at the Hummer. ‘May I read this inside? I’d like to take some notes as I translate.’

‘The engine’s running and the AC’s on. Be my guest.’

She walked around the front of the H2 and climbed into the passenger seat. Jones waited until she had closed the door before turning his attention to Payne.

‘Thanks for that. She’s pretty excited.’

‘No problem. I’m trying to play nice.’

‘I know and I appreciate it.’

Payne nodded but said nothing.

‘So,’ Jones said as he lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘can I ask you a personal question? You know,
confidential
. Just between us.’

‘Of course you can. What’s up?’

Jones made sure Maria wasn’t listening before he spoke again. ‘Who in the hell is Diego de Landa?’

Payne grinned. ‘You mean you don’t know?’

‘Well,’ he stammered, ‘the name is
vaguely
familiar, but I can’t really spout a bunch of facts off the top of my head.’

‘In other words, you have no idea.’

‘Absolutely none.’

‘Don’t worry. I had to run a search myself. I thought he might be a local gunrunner. Turns out he’s a dead bishop from Spain.’

‘Wow! Your hunch was way off.’

‘I know. Thank God for Google.’

Jones laughed. ‘So, what does a dead bishop have to do with Hamilton? Did they know each other?’

‘If they did, we’ve stumbled across something significant. Landa died in the 1500s.’

‘In that case, I’ll go out on a limb. I doubt they ever met.’

‘Probably not.’

‘Then what’s the connection?’

Payne summarized what he had read online. ‘Landa came to Mexico as a Franciscan monk in 1549. His job was to teach the natives about the Church and to convert them to Christianity. While he was here, he studied the Mayan language and wrote a detailed account of their culture. To this day, it is still considered the most important book ever written about the Maya.’

‘Landa was a scholar?’

Payne shook his head. ‘He was a Nazi.’

‘A Nazi? In what way?’

‘He organized the largest book-burning ceremony in the history of Mexico. If an object had anything to do with the Maya – images, idols, codices, whatever – he tossed it into the flames.’

Jones grimaced. ‘Was it an auto-da-fé?’

He nodded. ‘You’ve heard of it?’

‘Not the one you’re referring to, but I’m familiar with the ritual. It was popular during the Spanish Inquisition. They did it all the time. It means “act of faith”.’

‘Maybe so, but I guess Landa’s ceremony was particularly vicious. When word got back to the King of Spain, Landa was ordered to return home to defend himself.’

According to historical records, Landa was accused of extreme cruelty and mistreatment of the Maya, including the torture of men, women and children. Worst of all, he claimed he did it in the name of God. When asked about the auto-da-fé of Maní, which occurred in July 1562, he laughed it off, saying:

bq.
bq. ‘We found a great number of books, and since they contained nothing but falsehoods and superstitions of the devil, we burned them all. The Maya took this most grievously. It gave them great pain.’

The Council of the Indies condemned Landa for his behaviour. As a result, a committee of doctors was appointed to investigate his alleged crimes. Despite first-hand testimony from Francisco de Toral, the first bishop of the Yucatán, who had filed the original complaint with the king, Landa was absolved of the charges. Then, in an unexpected move, Landa was named as the bishop’s replacement when Toral died in 1571. Somehow, in a span of less than ten years, Landa went from a prisoner who had been banished from the New World to the most powerful man in the Yucatán. Upon his return, Landa continued his brutal campaign against the Maya, drawing the ire of natives, monks and Spanish soldiers because of his excessive cruelty.

This continued until his death in 1579.

Jones shook his head in disgust. ‘Landa was allowed to return?’

Payne nodded. ‘But no one knows why. According to the article that I read, records of that particular decision are missing from the archives.’

‘Imagine that. A government conspiracy. Some things never change.’

‘Actually, they’ve changed quite a bit. Back then, Church and state had virtually no separation. There’s no way of knowing who was responsible for Landa’s freedom or promotion. Was it the King of Spain, the Pope, or some random cardinal? Then again, what do I know? Maybe Landa was totally innocent of all charges.’

Jones scoffed at the notion. ‘Jon, I’m an angry black man. We think
everybody’
s innocent. But I’m not buying it. The guy burned half the books in Mexico. He was guilty of something.’

Payne laughed at the comment. ‘And as an honorary black man, I tend to agree with you. The guy sounds like scum to me. That being said, Landa’s crimes happened over four hundred years ago. The only thing I care about is his connection to Hamilton.’

‘Which is?’

He shrugged. ‘I have no idea. The document was handwritten in Spanish – with lots of little symbols.’

‘What kind of symbols?’

‘The Maya equivalent of hieroglyphics, whatever they’re called.’

‘I think they’re called glyphs. Mayan glyphs.’

Payne shrugged. ‘If you say so. That isn’t my specialty.’

Jones glanced inside the Hummer. Maria was hard at work on the document and well out of earshot. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not Maria’s specialty, either. I was talking to her on the drive down here, and she’s really confused about her role in all this. I mean
really
confused. I think that’s why she’s been so short-tempered with us. That, and a few other things.’

‘What other things?’

Jones peeked again to make sure she wasn’t listening. ‘Well, to be perfectly blunt, she’s got some major father issues.’

‘I know. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have dated an old fart like you.’

‘Jon, I’m being serious.’

‘Sorry. Couldn’t resist. I’ll be good from now on.’

Jones took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, you know all about her father, Benito. We dealt with him in Orvieto. That man was old-school crazy. He pampered his sons like princes and treated his wife and daughter like servants. As soon as she showed some backbone, he sent her away to boarding school so he wouldn’t have to deal with her any more.’

‘England, right?’

‘That’s right. A boarding school in England.’

Payne nodded. He hadn’t thought about these things in years, not since Jones had broken up with her. He knew bits and pieces of Maria’s history, but not enough to understand her psyche. Not enough to know what made her tick. It took much longer than a week to learn those types of things, but that was all the time he had spent with her. Granted, it was a particularly brutal week where half the police in Europe were looking for them, but a week nonetheless.

Jones continued. ‘After her mother died, her family cut her off. They didn’t talk to her, or write to her, or invite her home for the holidays. They ignored her, and she ignored them. At least she tried to. But the fact is that her hatred for her father made her stronger. Everything she did was fuelled by her desire to rub it in his face. Her grades, her accolades, even her decision to become an archaeologist was because of him. He assured her that women weren’t cut out for that sort of work, so she did everything in her power to prove him wrong.’

Payne raised an eyebrow. ‘Where are you going with this?’

‘Relax. I’m almost there.’

He sighed. ‘Good. Go on.’

‘Ever since then, she’s been looking for a father figure. Someone who would take her under his wing and mentor her. She had that for a while with her college professor, but he ended up using her for her connections to Benito.’

Payne nodded. ‘Dr Boyd. I remember.’

Jones glanced into the Hummer again. ‘I’m not positive about this, but I think she was hoping that Hamilton would fill that role, at least temporarily. She kept going on and on about his passion for history, and how much of a connection they made during their brief conversation. I know it’s kind of crazy – I mean, she barely knows the guy – but I think that’s messing with her mind. Every time she lets someone into her life, something bad happens.’