The Lost Continent (2 page)

A young man with blond hair raised his hand in the front row and Max called on him. “Michael, a question?”

“Well...if these myths are all related in some way...what does that mean? How are myths from different continents similar?”

“Excellent question,” said Max. “And to answer it, I have no idea. No definitive idea, that is. You see, there are a few possible explanations for why this repetition occurs. Maybe all the prophets had the same visions and just interpreted them differently based on their cultural heritage. Maybe there's some sort of universal, collective unconsciousness that we all draw these ideas from. Maybe they're all derivative of some currently-unknown universal religion that existed in the early days of humanity. Or maybe they were all massive con artists, constantly plagiarizing each other.”

The class laughed at that one and Max smiled as well. He glanced towards the door and saw a woman with dark hair pulled into a bun standing there. She smiled at him and Max nodded to her.

“Well, I'd say that's as good a note as any to end on,” he said. The students immediately began to gather their books together and hustle for the door.

“I'll see you all next week and remember that your papers are due the week of finals. If you have any questions, I will be available during office hours and even outside of those times by appointment. And of course, you all have my e-mail address. Now get out of here before this old man rambles on too much.”

As the final student hurried out the door, the woman who stood outside entered, dressed in a conservative business suit with a knee-length skirt. She wore glasses with round, gold-rimmed frames and the lenses seemed to dull her bright, crystal eyes just slightly.
 

“How was the Caribbean?” asked Max, leaning against the dry-erase board.

“Had some issues with a fellow tourist,” said Elisa.
 

“Him again?”
 

Elisa nodded.

“Christ...” muttered Max. “Okay, let's step into my office.”

Max gathered up his notes and books and led Elisa out the lecture hall through a side door near the podium. The pair walked through the halls of Burroughs University, trying to avoid the students rushing to and fro. Eventually, they came to the mythological studies department where the pair both held offices. Max unlocked his office, gesturing for Elisa to go first. Once inside the office, she sat behind Max's desk, exasperated.

“By all means, make yourself at home,” he said. “Coffee?”

“God yes,” she said.

Max opened the miniature refrigerator near his bookcase and took out a bottle of water, using it to fill the coffee pot. He checked the filter and switched the maker on.

“Just give it a few minutes.” He sat on the edge of the desk. “Now, Davalos?”

Elisa nodded. “Who else? Must've known I was gonna be there.”

“How could he have possibly known?”

“Then either he's very lucky or I'm not at all,” said Elisa. “He was after the tablet, Max. Stole it from me right after he blew up my rented speedboat.”

Max fixed his gaze on her. “So you found it.”

Elisa nodded. “The Lost Keystone of the Naa'cal, yes.”

“Could you read it?”

She shook her head. “No, but I think it was written in Naga-Mayan.”

“Just like the Churchward Tablets,” said Max. “Amazing.”

“Would have been even
more
amazing if I still had it, then we could translate it,” said Elisa.

“I wouldn't worry too much about it, Lucas Davalos is hardly a master of long-lost languages.” Max removed his glasses and wiped them with a cloth from his breast pocket.

“Davalos isn't the problem, who he's
working
for is.”

Max looked up. “You can't be serious.”

Elisa nodded.

Max sighed. “The Order...of course. Only makes sense they'd be interested in the Naga-Mayan tablets as well.”

“Now the question becomes what do we do about it?” asked Elisa.

“What can we do? We've got no leads, we've got nothing to go on,” said Max. He focused his attention on the volumes lining his shelves. Leather-bound editions chronicling the various myths and legends of the world. But these were just the academic editions. The real volumes, the ones that held true knowledge, those Max Finch kept in his private collection at home. He began to shook his head. “Elisa, you really need to start thinking a bit more in advance. Maybe if you had written down the text or made an indentation with a paper and pencil or—”

“Or taken photos with a digital camera.”

“—right, or taken photos with a—”

Max heard a beeping noise and turned his head, putting his glasses back on. Elisa held a digital camera in her hands and handed it to him. Max looked at the photo through the display and started to laugh.
 

“There's hope for you yet, my dear.”

He hopped off his desk and removed the memory card, plugging it into his laptop. Elisa stood and moved to the side so he could work, looking over his shoulder as he transferred the photos to his hard drive.

“Can you work with them?”

“The resolution and the lighting is far from perfect, plus the stone's a bit too grimy to make out all the text, but it's better than nothing. We may be able to get some mileage out of these. A partial translation could point us in the direction we need to go.”

“We?” she asked. “Max, you're retired. You're not a myth hunter, not anymore.”

Max turned to her and removed his glasses. “Young lady, I'm the one who taught you everything you know. And this find, this is bigger than anything I've ever seen in my life, and I've seen my share of craziness.”

He looked back at the screen.

“No, you're not doing this alone. We work on this together, you hear? But first things first, we need to see about getting this stuff translated.”

“Think you can do it here?”

“Not even close. This language is about as similar to Mayan as Japanese is to Chinese. No, I'll need to consult my home library, that's the best bet.”

“And failing that?” asked Elisa.

“King.”

“
Jackson
King? Tell me you're joking.”

“What's wrong with King?” asked Max. “Elisa, I've worked with Jackson King since you were in diapers. He's the best linguist I know. If anyone can translate this tablet, it's him.”

Elisa looked sheepishly down at her feet and Max leaned forward. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” she said. “It was...we had a disagreement...”

“What
kind
of disagreement?” asked Max.

“I...I
may
have shot him with a crossbow...”

“Elisa!”

She pointed a finger to accentuate her point. “In the shoulder! Not even close to being fatal!”

“Why in the name of all that's holy would you shoot Jackson King in the shoulder with a crossbow?” asked Max.

“...he had a smart mouth,” said Elisa. “Kept calling me an inexperienced little girl who was going to get people killed with my recklessness.”

“You have got to stop taking offense over every little thing,” said Max. “Elisa, King is an old-timer, you know that. And he hates change.”

“It was a few years ago, I've grown since then,” said Elisa.

“That's not the point, we...ugh.” Max shook his head and stood from the desk. “Look, here's what we'll do. I'll go meet with King, see what he can do to help us. Meanwhile, I want you to see what you can discover about Davalos' whereabouts. Maybe he got sloppy, left something of a trail somewhere.”

Elisa nodded. “I'll see what I can do. When should we meet?”

“Tomorrow morning at my place, around eight,” said Max. “Do you have any classes for today?”

“No, still technically on sabbatical,” said Elisa with a grin.

“Good, then make yourself useful and get to work.”
 

Lucas Davalos sat in a bar in Cancun, a glass of straight tequila sitting before him and a cigarillo held between his fingers a few inches from his lips. His eyes scanned over the tavern from his small table in the rear of the bar. As he reached his arm to expel some of the spent cigarillo into the ashtray, the butt of his pistol came into quick view, holstered beneath the brown leather jacket he wore.

He watched everyone, taking a mental picture of each face. Made a note of each and every movement. An old habit from his time in the military and later as a contract mercenary for private security firms. His face was the only white one, but his rugged features and grim demeanor meant no one would give him trouble. He couldn't say the same for the latest arrival, a man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt with oversized sunglasses and a hideous straw hat. Davalos rolled his eyes as the tourist-looking guy approached his table and sat down across from him, setting the attaché case he carried down on the ground.

A waitress came over, asking for his order and the tourist looked at Davalos before saying, in very badly broken Spanish, “umm...
on ker-vah-za por fae-ver.”

Davalos rolled his eyes.
“Una cerveza, por favor.”
He spoke with a natural accent.

“Y tú?”
she asked him. He raised the almost-empty tequila glass to indicate his drink choice. The waitress nodded and said
“un momento”
before returning to the bar.

“I take it you're my contact,” said Davalos.

“I am,” said the tourist. He offered his hand. “Name's Wade, nice to meet you.”

Davalos ignored the hand and finished off the last of the tequila, then took another drag on his cigarillo. Wade kept his hand out there for another moment or two before retracting it.

“You'd think the Order would find someone who sticks out a bit less.”

“Really?” asked Wade, looking down at his shirt. “I actually think I blend in just fine.”

“Maybe in a resort but not in a dive like this. Man like you is asking to get jumped. Especially given what you're carrying.”

“The Order felt that this look would give the impression that I'm harmless.”

“They were right.” Davalos exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. The waitress returned and set the fresh tequila glass in front of him. Lucas winked at her.
“Gracias, señorita.”

“De nada,” she replied, flashing him a smile of her own. She looked at Wade and her smile vanished and she set the beer down roughly.
“On ker-vah-za.”
As she walked away, she started to laugh and Lucas couldn't help but chuckle himself.

Wade fixed his gaze on the beer. “I think that waitress just mocked me.”

“You are a sharp one, I'll give you that,” said Davalos. He stomped out the cigarillo in the ashtray. “Now, what say we get down to business? That waitress gets off in half an hour and then an hour after that, she'll be getting off again if I have my way.”

“What do you—oohhh...” Wade smiled and nodded.

“You look like a moron when you do that,” said Lucas.

Wade stopped immediately.
 

“Now, let's make the switch, shall we?” Davalos reached into his bag which sat on the floor and pulled out something wrapped in cloth, setting it on the table between them. Wade glanced around and then carefully lifted it, unwrapping it and letting his eyes fall on the tablet Davalos had stolen from Elisa.

“Ohhh yes!” Wade removed a magnifier from his pocket and held it over his eye so he could get a better look at the tablet. “This is incredible, I can't believe you actually found it.”

Davalos took a drink from his tequila. “Believe it. Now my money.”

“In the case,” said Wade.

Davalos lifted the attaché and opened it, his eyes scanning over the cash inside. He snapped it shut again and set it back down on the floor. “That only looks to be about five hundred.”

“Very observant, Mr. Davalos,” said Wade.

“The deal was for a million. Why am I only getting half?” His hand went beneath his jacket, fingers wrapping around the butt of the Zastava CZ05 semi-automatic pistol.
 

Wade held out his hand. “Just relax for a minute, okay?”

“I'll relax if and only if you've got another half a million stashed away in that fat ass you're carrying around.”

“I've been asked to pass on a message to you from the Order.” Wade sipped his beer. “You could make a million dollars today or you can consider this briefcase a down-payment on ten million.”

Davalos found his interest grabbed. “Ten? Gotta be a catch. What does the Order want from me?”

“They want you to perform another job. Use this tablet and find where it leads to.”

“And why do they care so much about where it leads?” asked Davalos.

“Legend has it that it's the first civilization and that they were far more advanced than the ones that followed—present company included.”

Davalos chuckled. “Let me get this straight. You're telling me that this little rock is supposed to lead me to some ancient civilization that no one's ever found any trace of?”

“Oh, traces have been found. But the claims were so outrageous that the finders were labeled as frauds.”

“So what happened to the bumbling tourist persona?” asked Lucas. “You seem like a completely different man.”

Wade smiled. “Who's to say what sort of man I really am, Mr. Davalos? Or if I'm even a man at all?”

“Yeah right,” said Davalos. “Well you can tell the Order that I'm not interested in any wild goose chases. An extra ten million would be nice, but I'm not greedy. I've got more than enough to live comfortably and this little payoff will allow me to continue to live comfortably.”

Davalos stood from the table, lifting the briefcase from the floor. He offered a slight, condescending bow to Wade. “By your leave, good sir.”

“No.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Wade stared up at the younger man and removed his sunglasses. “I don't grant you any leave. Now sit down, we haven't finished here.”

Davalos drew the Zastava and planted it right against Wade's cheek. “Listen, fat boy. We're finished when I say so. And that's what I just said, so if you've got a problem with it, I'm going to redecorate this place with your insides, got it?”

The weapon had drawn a few stares, and Lucas noticed a few men at the bar who seemed particularly interested. Wade grinned and began to chuckle. “Do you really think I'm afraid of you, Mr. Davalos?”