The Death Relic (47 page)

‘Why’s that?’

She flipped through the papers in Boyd’s file until she found the document she was looking for. It was a photocopy of one of the pages of Mercado’s journal. She had highlighted several of the dates. ‘Construction of the church began in the spring of 1574, approximately the same time that the treasure arrived in Cholula. According to this, Marcos’s brother Manuel handpicked the work crew and oversaw the building of the church. Upon its completion in the summer of 1575, Marcos himself became one of the clergy. He remained there until 1596.’

Payne nodded in understanding. ‘From what I know about conquistadores, they were explorers and fighters. They weren’t architects and they weren’t builders. If Manuel took the time to build this church, there has to be a reason.’

She agreed. ‘Back then it was quite common to build churches on top of native monuments. It was Spain’s way of claiming the land as its own. If Manuel had somehow learned about the pyramid, he would have realized the best way to protect it would be to build a church on top of it. The hill underneath would then have been considered holy ground, which would have kept explorers away. By building one church, he hid the treasure and protected the pyramid.’

‘You gotta love the irony.’

‘What irony?’

Payne explained. ‘Bishop Landa was supposed to be a holy man, but he used his authority to kill the natives and destroy their relics. Meanwhile, the Mercados, who were trained soldiers, didn’t fight back with violence. Instead, they fought back by building a church. I wasn’t an English major, but I’m pretty sure that qualifies as irony.’

She nodded. ‘I think it does.’

‘What’s that expression, “God works in mysterious ways”? It’s the perfect example.’

She gasped. ‘I can’t believe you said that. That’s my favourite proverb of all time. My mother used to say it to me when I was a girl.’

‘Really? I didn’t know that. Maybe it’s a sign.’

She smiled at the thought. ‘If it is a sign, I bet it’s a good one.’

Tiffany aimed the gun at Boyd’s chest. ‘From my perspective, it’s too late for containment. Everyone knows what I look like. For now, all I care about is punishment. You stabbed me in the back. Now you have to pay.’

His smile widened. ‘Actually, my dear, it is
you
who must pay.’

Before Tiffany could react, she sensed a presence behind her. It was one of the henchmen who had trashed Maria’s suite in Cancún. He had been summoned to Mérida to silence Tiffany once and for all. And he enjoyed his work. He calmly put the barrel of his gun against the base of her skull and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through her spine, killing her instantly. Her blood and brain prevented the muzzle flash from igniting the gas fumes in the room.

A minute later, Boyd would incinerate her body along with everything else.

Then he would head to America. Just like he had planned.

Cholula, Mexico

(76 miles southeast of Mexico City)

They arrived in Cholula after dark, which was fine with them since they realized that several laws might have to be broken in order to complete their adventure. Even Ulster, a straight-laced academic who felt more guilt over parking tickets than some people did over felonies, was willing to concede that a thorough search couldn’t be done during daylight hours. Not only was Our Lady of Remedies a major tourist attraction, drawing thousands of visitors a week, his involvement was bound to draw attention from
INAH
and the Catholic Church, both of which would impede their investigation for several weeks. In the world of archaeology, Ulster learned long ago that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than it was to get permission.

Patrolled by a police equestrian unit, the single road that led to the church was well guarded. It forced them to abandon the
SUV
Boyd had provided more than a quarter of a mile from the complex. After breaching the security fence that encircled the Cholula Archaeological Site, Payne led the way up the side of the mound. The group marvelled at the topography and the natural feel of the grass. In the daylight, the illusion would have been shattered by all of the layers of the pyramid that had been exposed for exhibits, but at night, the reality was concealed by darkness. To them it seemed as though they were climbing a normal hill.

No words were spoken until they reached the courtyard outside the church. Payne whispered instructions to Jones, who hustled into the shadows with lock picks in hand. Less than five minutes later, Jones opened the door from inside the church. Years ago, this would have produced applause and congratulations. Now it was merely routine. No longer amazed by his abilities, Payne and Maria walked past him as if he were holding the door of a restaurant open for them, and Ulster did the same. Hamilton was somewhat impressed, but he was too worried about being caught to say anything out loud. Instead, he simply nodded to express his thanks.

Jones shook his head in frustration. ‘Tough crowd.’

Familiar with the sixteenth-century structure because of her research on the plane, Maria led the way towards the main part of the church. Having seen several pictures of the nave and altar in Boyd’s file, she couldn’t wait to see them in person. Her pace was so energized that the rest of the group struggled to keep up, until she stopped in the centre of the main aisle to take it all in. As expected, the interior of the church was breathtaking. The entire nave, made of local stone and decorated with 24-carat gold leaf, seemed to sparkle in the dim glow of the recessed lights above the altar. Everywhere she looked, she saw gold – lustrous and brilliant, even in the faintest of light. For a brief moment, her heart sank when she considered a possibility that hadn’t crossed her mind until that very instant. What if the Mercados had melted the Aztec gold to decorate the interior of the church? What if the treasure had been in plain sight all along?

Ulster sensed her concern. He walked over and whispered reassurance in her ear. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, the walls are merely gilded. The treasure is somewhere else.’

She was taken aback. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’

He smiled. ‘Because I was thinking it myself.’

With that, Ulster continued towards the altar.

She was ready to join him when she felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned and saw Hamilton. He was standing with his backpack in his hands and a strange look upon his face, as if he had something he needed to say. ‘Are you all right?’ Maria asked.

He nodded. ‘Yes, Maria, I’m fine. It’s just, there’s something I need to give you. I wanted to give it to you
much
earlier – I swear I did – but Charles made me promise to wait until we were inside the church. You know Charles and his crazy schemes. He claims he has a reason for everything, although half the time I don’t know what that reason is.’

‘Trust me, I know the feeling.’

‘Yes, I hoped you would.’

Wasting no time, Hamilton sat in a nearby pew and unzipped the backpack he’d been carrying with him since Mérida. He reached inside and pulled out a hard plastic case that had been custom-fitted to protect a gold medallion that had once belonged to Marcos de Mercado. Just four days earlier, the medallion had been locked away in a secret vault belonging to Hector Garcia. Familiar with its history, he had been searching for the Mercado treasure for years, but had been unable to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Unwilling to sell the item for any amount, Garcia was forced to trade the medallion for the safe return of his children, a price most parents would be willing to pay. In the end, Garcia also paid with his life.

Hamilton was aware of none of that. He knew nothing about the kidnappings, the bombs at Zócalo, or the millions of dollars of dirty money that would end up in the bank accounts of the
CIA
. All Hamilton had been told was that Boyd had acquired the medallion from a private collector and, due to confidentiality agreements, the item should never be discussed in public. After witnessing the violence at Chichén Itzá, Hamilton assumed they had acquired the item through illicit means, but at that point he figured it was too late to do anything about it.

Maria stared at the medallion. In the dim light of the church, it was tough to see all the details that had been carved into the gold. The one thing she did notice was a small, rectangular slot through the centre of the artefact. ‘What is it?’

Hamilton explained. ‘This medallion was handcrafted by a Spanish artisan in the late 1500s. He made it from a detailed design that we found in the journal of Marcos de Mercado, who claimed the medallion was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the New World. On the front, there is an etching of the Death Relic symbol that I showed to you in Mérida. It is surrounded by several smaller glyphs of mixed origins. A few are Mayan, a few are Aztec and a few are from the other indigenous tribes in Mesoamerica.’

She turned on her flashlight and studied the front surface of the medallion. She had never seen an object quite like it. ‘What do the glyphs say?’

‘Unfortunately, we just acquired the medallion yesterday. Charles immediately sent me a series of photographs, which I have been trying to decipher ever since. As far as I can tell, the glyphs say the same thing over and over again: “Death protects the treasure.” ’

‘Death protects the treasure? What does that mean?’

‘That, I’m afraid, is the riddle you must solve.’

‘Me? Why me? Why do I have to solve it?’

He smiled to ease her anxiety. ‘Look around you, Maria. We are inside Our Lady of Remedies, a historic Catholic Church. Your area of expertise is the history of Christianity. Who better to solve the riddle than you?’

She took a deep breath. ‘When you put it like that …’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Maria. I am confident in your abilities. If I didn’t think you could do it, do you really think I would have allowed you to join the team? As I told you in Cancún, the task that we hired you for is right up your alley. Now all you have to do is
think
.’

Maria thanked him for the information, then asked to be left alone for a few minutes so she could gather her thoughts on the subject. Hamilton quietly slipped out of the pew to give her the privacy she needed. Before long, he was gathering the others to explain everything he had told her about the medallion. Although most of the burden had been placed on Maria’s shoulders, Hamilton realized it would be foolish to keep the rest of the team in the dark about such an important clue. Unlike Boyd, who wanted Maria to be the one to solve the puzzle, Hamilton didn’t care who found the prize as long as it was one of them.

Unsure where to begin, Maria glanced around the church in the hope of finding a clue. She stared at the arches, the vaulted ceiling and the main dome, but saw nothing of value except exquisite craftsmanship. Eventually, her eyes drifted towards the main altar. Decorated with fresh flowers and gilded with 24-carat gold, it was truly a beautiful sight. Everywhere she looked, there were splashes of colour – red, yellow, green and pink – but the colour that grabbed her attention most was in the middle of the back wall. Remarkably, it was the same shade of turquoise as the water in the Caribbean Sea – the same colour she had seen in Cancún and Tulum and the Mayan coastline in between. Prior to her trip to Mexico, she had never seen that particular shade before, but here it surfaced again a thousand miles from the distant shore. With nothing better to go on, she decided to glance through Boyd’s file to see if the colour had any significance.

She flipped through several pages of the church’s history until she came across a photograph of the altar. She stared at the picture and realized the turquoise colour was part of a carved figure that depicted the patron saint of the church. Anxious to learn more, she turned the picture over and read the description on back. The tiny statue of the Virgin Mary, which resembled an elaborate doll in a long, turquoise gown, arrived in the New World in 1519. It was brought to the Americas by a Spanish soldier named Juan Rodríguez de Villafuerte, who viewed the idol as his protector for the dangerous trip. A year later, when Hernán Cortés was initially defeated by the Aztecs, Villafuerte hid the statue of Mary in a native temple, where it remained undisturbed for over twenty years. Eventually, the indigenous people of the region, who were in the midst of being converted to Christianity, discovered the statue and worshipped it until it was ‘rescued’ by a Spanish monk. Ever since, the statue has been considered the protector of the church.

Wait, she thought to herself, what was the statue protecting?

The whole church? Or something else?

She turned the picture back over and studied the details of the image. Strangely, the only part of the carved statue that was visible was Mary’s painted face. An elaborate gold crown, topped with a gold cross, rested on her head. The other features of the statue – Mary’s arms, legs and torso – were concealed by a turquoise gown that flared out from the collar. The end result looked like a turquoise pyramid with Mary’s head glued to the apex. Stranger still, there was a single item draped around Mary’s neck: a tiny gold medallion.

‘Santa Maria!’ she whispered, sensing she was on the right track.

Instead of rushing forward and making a scene, she held Mercado’s medallion next to the image of the statue. Unfortunately, the medallion in the picture was too blurry to make an accurate comparison. She cursed under her breath as she grabbed Boyd’s file. Trembling with excitement, she flipped through the dozens of pictures in the folder, hoping to find a close-up of Mary’s medallion. Amazingly, she stumbled across something even better.

The first photograph was a drawing of Diego de Landa, presiding over the auto-da-fé of Maní. He was holding a gold cross above his head as a group of natives cowered at his feet. In the background, Spanish soldiers were burning artefacts and chopping off the heads of Mayan rulers. The second photograph was an oil painting of a Spanish conquistador. He, too, was holding a cross in the air as dozens of Aztecs were slain around him. One native in particular caught her eye. He was kneeling on the ground, pleading for mercy, as a Spanish soldier prepared to pierce him with a lance. One end of the lance was sharpened to a deadly point, while the other end was topped with a jewel-encrusted cross.