The Death Relic

15

Because of the winter storm, the Payne Industries jet couldn’t take off from its private airfield until early the next morning. Not only did the runway have to be cleared of snow, the plane had to be de-iced to prevent mechanical failure. Once they got off the ground and above the thick layer of grey clouds, they had a smooth four-hour flight all the way to Cancún.

Having called ahead, a silver SUV was waiting for them at the hangar when they landed in Mexico. Payne handled the paperwork while Jones tossed their bags into the trunk and entered the hotel address into the vehicle’s satelite navigation system. Less than thirty minutes later, they were pulling up to the Fiesta Americana, where they were greeted by a valet and zero mariachi bands. To them, that was a good thing. No one should be forced to listen to trumpets before noon.

So as not to scare Maria, Jones called her from the lobby to let her know they were on the way up to her suite. By the time they got there, she had pulled the furniture away from the door and put down the steak knife she had clutched throughout the night. For her, sleep had been next to impossible. She had dozed off once or twice while reading a book on the Maya, but the smallest sound in the hall or outside her window had caused her to wake in a panic.

All in all, it had been a dreadful night.

Just before dawn, as the sun struggled to rise above the distant horizon, she tried to recall the last time she couldn’t fall asleep because of fear. Was it during a thunderstorm when she was a child? Or the first time she went camping alone? Eventually, she reached an ironic conclusion, one that put a smile on her face and let her know that everything would be all right.

For as long as she could remember, she had always loved the proverb, ‘God works in mysterious ways.’ Her mother had taught it to her at an early age, and Maria believed it with all her heart — so much so that she had said it thousands of times over the years. Despite the constant repetition and her steadfast belief in its message, she was still amazed whenever the adage proved true. And in her mind, this was one of those times. Why? Because the last time fear had kept her awake was the night she had met Payne and Jones in Milan.

A night they had hunted her like prey.

A night they had threatened to kill her.

Now they were there to protect her.

Jones knocked softly on the door. ‘Maria, it’s us.’

‘Just a minute,’ she said as she glanced through the peephole.

Jones stood at the front, a forced smile on his worried face as he did his best to put a positive spin on a bad situation. Behind him, Payne loomed in the background. A quiet pillar of strength, he stood there with his arms crossed, muscles bulging against his sleeves, his eyes looking for trouble. If possible, he was even bigger than she remembered.

Years had passed since she had last seen them, and a lot of things had changed. But at that moment, as she stood there with her eye against the lens and the doorknob in her hand, she knew one thing had remained the same: her feelings for both of them.

After all this time, she still felt conflicted and confused.

Yet here they were, willing to help.

Maria took a deep breath and opened the door. ‘Thank you for coming.’

‘Thank you for calling.’ Jones gave her a friendly hug. ‘Pittsburgh’s supposed to get six more inches of snow this weekend. That’s six inches too many for me.’

Payne hugged her next. As he did, he glanced over her shoulder and scanned the suite. ‘I’m not a wuss like DJ, but I have to admit, sunburn sounds better than frostbite.’

She smiled at the notion. ‘Well, I brought a bottle of suntan lotion. You’re welcome to it — if you can find it. It’s kind of a mess in here.’

Payne nodded as he stepped inside. Furniture was out of place. Paintings were off the walls. Clothes were scattered everywhere. Her suite looked like the movie set of The Hangover, minus Mike Tyson’s tiger. ‘Man, I want to party with you. You live like a rock star.’

She scoffed at the notion. ‘Hardly! I spent the whole night in bed, researching the Maya.’

As he closed the door, Jones tried to lighten the mood. ‘Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays? Researching the Maya?’

Payne smiled. ‘Hey, baby, want to come back to my place and research the Maya?” ’

Jones raised his voice an octave. ‘Only if you sacrifice a virgin.’

She blushed as she laughed. ‘Trust me, I spent the night alone, trying to figure out why Hamilton brought me to Mexico. I even picked the lock on his briefcase to look for clues.’

Payne stared at her. ‘You picked his lock? With what?’

‘A paperclip — just like David taught me.’

Jones gave her a high-five. ‘That’s my girl.’

Payne glanced at him. ‘You taught her to pick a lock? When did you do that?’

He shrugged. ‘Second date.’

‘No, seriously.’

‘I am serious.’

Maria laughed at the memory. ‘We’d gone out for dinner in this trendy part of town. Afterwards we went for a long walk and came across this old couple who’d locked their keys in their car. They were trying to open the door with a rusty coat hanger. It looked like they had found it in a storm drain or something because it had clearly seen better days. Anyway, David offered to help them, and—’

Payne interrupted her. ‘Let me guess: he beat them senseless and ended up stealing their car. Or is that more of a “third date” kind of thing?’

Jones rolled his eyes, then ticked off an imaginary list. ‘Third date is firearms. Fourth date is self-defence. And the fifth date is … researching the Maya.’

‘Unfortunately,’ Payne teased, ‘I see a major flaw in your system. Once you teach them self-defence, you probably won’t get to do any research.’

Jones groaned. ‘Is that why I’m still single?’

Maria laughed at their antics and pointed towards the main bedroom. ‘Let me get the briefcase. I need to show you what I found.’

Payne waved her off. ‘Take your time. I want to check out your place.’

Known as a master suite, it looked more like a luxury condominium than a hotel room. With 860-square feet of living space, the corner suite was equipped with marble floors, a wet bar, a sunken living room, two large bathrooms, an indoor jacuzzi and a large TV. Outside there was a private terrace with a teak patio set from Spain. As far as Payne could tell, it was the only furniture that hadn’t been disturbed.

He stared out the window at the light-blue sea. The water reminded him of a diving trip he had taken near the Cayman Islands. ‘Why toss the suite?’

Jones shrugged. ‘I was wondering the same thing.’

‘She flies into town. Comes here and unpacks. Then goes downstairs to meet Hamilton. That’s what? Three hours at most?’

‘Sounds about right.’

‘Did she come directly here from the airport?’

Jones nodded. ‘In the hotel shuttle.’

‘If that’s the case, there are only three reasonable explanations that I can think of — and one of them is pretty unlikely.’

‘Which one is that?’

‘Random robbery.’

‘You’re right. That seems doubtful. Nothing is missing except her passport, and run-of-the-mill thieves wouldn’t trash the place. They’d want to make as little noise as possible.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Which leads us to number two.’

Payne nodded. ‘Non-random robbery.’

‘They were looking for something specific. Maybe something she brought from home, or something she was holding for Hamilton. They were confident she had it here, so they trashed the suite looking for it.’

‘If that’s the case, they probably think she still has it — unless they grabbed Hamilton to find out for sure.’

‘Any idea what it might be?’

Payne shook his head. ‘What about you?’

‘Nope.’

Maria cleared her throat from the back of the room. ‘Me neither.’

Jones turned and faced her. ‘Are you sure? Maybe a book, or a document of some kind?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Were you supposed to bring anything at all?’

She placed the briefcase on the counter, then walked towards the window where they were standing. ‘A week’s worth of clothes and toiletries. Other than that, I was on my own.’

Payne grunted. ‘That’s too bad.’

‘That’s bad? Why is that bad?’

‘Why? Because there’s only one other scenario I can think of.’

‘Which is?’

Payne looked at Jones. ‘You want to tell her?’

‘No, you can tell her. It’s your theory.’

Maria stepped forward and poked Payne in his chest. She did it so hard she almost made a hole in his shirt. ‘I don’t care who tells me, just tell me!’

Payne grimaced but admired her feistiness. That was more like the Maria he remembered from Milan. She wasn’t someone who cowered in her room, but someone who was willing to fight. ‘Fine! I’ll tell you. But you aren’t going to like it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because someone trashed your suite to scare you.’