The Death Relic

42

Petr Ulster, a round man with a thick brown beard, soaked in a marble tub filled with warm water and scented oils from Singapore. With bubbles up to his chin, he hummed softly to one of his favourite symphonies as he conducted an imaginary orchestra, flailing his arms to the rhythmic beat of the strings. Water sloshed back and forth with such ferocity that it exceeded the constraints of the tub and spilled onto the floor of his private bathroom. Not that he really cared. He was a man who lived for the moment, someone who relished the simple things in life, such as a gourmet meal, a vintage bottle of wine and the company of friends. Besides, he had a staff of servants who would clean up his mess when he was done with his performance.

The ringing of his telephone brought it to an early end.

Known for his brilliant mind and boyish enthusiasm, he groused about the interruption while reaching for the phone, which was just beyond his grasp. While stretching for it, he pushed so much water onto the floor that it looked like a tropical storm had struck his bathroom. Thankfully, the only victim was a novelty toy he’d been given as a joke by David Jones. Instead of a rubber ducky, it was a swan named Ludwig with a gold crown on its head. It had been knocked off the edge of the tub by the tidal wave. Only then did Ulster realize how much of a mess he had made.

‘Oh dear,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘Winston will be peeved.’

Worried about his butler’s reaction, Ulster leapt from the tub with reckless abandon, grabbed the lone towel from the heated rail and threw it onto the flood to stop the spread of water before it reached the carpeted floor of his dressing room. This, of course, left him soaking wet, shivering, flustered and bare-ass naked when he answered the phone.

‘Hello,’ he said, out of breath. ‘This is Petr.’

‘Petr? It’s Jonathon Payne. Are you all right?’

A smile burst across his face. ‘I am now, my boy!’

‘Are you sure? Because you sound, um, dishevelled.’

Ulster laughed as he turned down the music on the overhead speakers. ‘Though English is my fourth language, I’m not quite sure one can sound dishevelled. I believe that’s more of a visual condition than an auditory one.’

‘And yet you sound dishevelled. Trust you to break new ground.’

‘If you say so. Who am I to argue with the great Jonathon Payne?’

Payne grinned. ‘Actually, I can think of quite a few times when we’ve argued, but I’m glad you have selective memory. It’ll be easier to stay on your good side.’

‘No worries there, my friend, and you know it!’

Built in the mid-1960s by Austrian philanthropist Conrad Ulster, the Ulster Archives was the most extensive private collection of documents and antiquities in the world. Unlike most private collections, the main goal of the Archives wasn’t to hoard artefacts. Instead, it attempted to bridge the ever-growing gap between scholars and connoisseurs. Typical big-city museums displayed 15 per cent of their accumulated artefacts, meaning 85 per cent of the world’s finest relics were currently off-limits to the public. That number climbed even higher — closer to 90 per cent — when personal collections were factored into the equation.

Thankfully, the Ulster Foundation had vowed to correct the problem. Ever since the Archives had opened, it had promoted the radical concept of sharing. In order to gain admittance, a visitor had to bring something of value, such as an ancient object or unpublished research, or be willing to donate his time and expertise to the facility. Whatever it was, it had to be approved in advance by the Archives’ staff. If for some reason they deemed it unworthy, then admission to the facility was denied until a suitable arrangement could be made.

It was their way of encouraging sharing.

For more than a decade, the Archives had been run by Petr Ulster, Conrad’s grandson. He had befriended Payne and Jones a few years earlier when they had escorted two frightened academics, Dr Charles Boyd and Maria Pelati, to the facility to conduct research on Tiberius. While they were there, a group of religious zealots had tried to burn the Archives to the ground. Their goal had been to kill Boyd and Pelati, and to destroy a collection of ancient documents that threatened the foundation of the Catholic Church. Fortunately, Payne and Jones had intervened, thwarting the attack and saving the facility from irreparable damage.

Ever since that day, Ulster had considered them family.

Payne, who was aware of the time difference, felt the need to apologize despite their closeness. ‘Sorry to bother you on a Saturday night. I hope I didn’t interrupt your dinner plans. I know how you like to entertain at the weekend.’

Ulster stared at his naked form in the bathroom mirror. His round belly made him look like Buddha. He patted it a few times before answering. ‘Actually, I’m trying to curtail my gluttonous ways. I tend to pack on the pounds during the winter months.’

‘Petr, you live on top of the Alps. They’re all winter months.’

Ulster laughed. ‘I think that’s part of the problem!’

Payne knew that if he wasn’t careful, Ulster would chew his ear off about his diet, the snowfall in Küsendorf, or whatever else was on his mind. He had the ability to turn a two-second response into a ten-minute lecture. With that in mind, Payne decided to get aggressive. He knew if he didn’t define the terms of the conversation, he was asking for trouble.

‘If you have a moment,’ Payne said, ‘I was hoping to ask you a question or two about the Maya. I’m currently in Mexico, and—’

‘Did you say the Maya? I love the Maya. They’re one of my ten favourite civilizations of all time. Obviously, you’d have the Greeks and the Romans. I think most people would have them on their lists. Then there are the Egyptians and the Mongols—’

‘Petr!’ he shouted to cut him off. ‘Did you hear what I said? I’m actually in Mexico right now, and I need some information about the Maya. Time is not my friend.’

Ulster, who was familiar with Payne’s military background, lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Are you on a mission?’

‘Something like that.’

Ulster stomped his foot and whooped with glee. Regrettably, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do while standing in a puddle. The force of his stomp shot water in every direction like a cannonball in a community pool. ‘Oh goodness. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Done what? Petr, are you all right?’

‘One moment, my boy. I need to fetch a towel. I’m feeling a tad moist.’

‘Hold up! Were you exercising?’

Ulster grinned as he grabbed his bathrobe from the back of the door. He was far too embarrassed to tell him what he had actually been doing. ‘Yes. Something like that.’

Payne covered the phone and whispered to Jones. ‘You’re not going to believe this, but Petr was exercising.’

Jones winced. ‘Are you sure you called the right Petr?’

‘I’m positive. He just tried to tell me his top-ten civilizations of all time.’

Jones laughed. ‘Yep. That’s the right Petr.’

Freshly wrapped in a designer robe, Ulster grabbed the phone and collapsed into his favourite chair. It was tucked away in the corner of his master bedroom. ‘There we go. Much better. Sorry for the delay. The walls and floors are literally dripping because of me.’

‘Don’t overdo it, Petr. You need to ease into your workouts.’

Feeling guilty about the deception, Ulster changed the topic. ‘Enough of that. Let’s focus on you. What are you doing in Mexico?’

‘DJ and I are helping a friend. Do you remember Maria Pelati?’

‘Of course I remember Maria. She spent several weeks here after the fire, doing research and pitching in. What a lovely girl.’ Ulster paused in thought. ‘Wait a moment! Are David and Maria together again? They were such a cute couple. Their babies would be adorable!’

Payne nearly gagged. ‘Petr, how about we make a deal? I’ll stop asking you questions about your workouts, and you stop mentioning things like that.’

Ulster laughed. ‘That sounds fair to me.’

‘Anyway, as I was saying, we’re here to help Maria. She was hired by a team of historians who are looking for a Mayan treasure, and most of the information is over her head.’

‘I bet it is. Not to be rude, but why would they hire Maria? That doesn’t make any sense. Her specialty is Christianity, not Mesoamerican cultures.’

Jesus, Payne thought, am I the only one who didn’t know that?

‘Apparently, this has something to do with a bishop named Diego de Landa. I guess they thought her background would be useful regarding him.’

‘Diego de Landa,’ he repeated with venom. ‘You know how I feel about violence, but that’s a man I wish you’d had a crack at. Actually, calling him a man is an insult to men everywhere. That, um, bishop was the devil incarnate.’

Payne smiled. In all their time together, he had never heard Ulster curse. ‘For a moment there, I thought you were going to say “bastard”.’

‘For a moment there, I was tempted. But in the end, decorum won out.’

‘Anyway, the team leader gave Maria a document to translate. It describes a treasure and several other things she isn’t familiar with. We were hoping you could fill us in.’

‘I’d be happy to. That is, if you have permission from the team leader. I would hate to step on any toes.’

Payne scratched his chin. ‘Actually, that might be a little bit difficult. One of the reasons we’re helping Maria is because the team leader has disappeared.’

‘Disappeared? As in lost in the jungle?’

He shook his head. ‘As in abducted from a hotel. At least that’s what we think happened. We’re still sorting through the facts.’

‘Good heavens! Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Yeah. You can answer some questions about the Maya.’

‘No, my boy, I meant in regards to the abduction. I know quite a few people in the academic community. Perhaps, I can put you in touch with some of his colleagues.’

Payne smiled at the suggestion. It was an angle he hadn’t considered. ‘Actually, now that you mention it, that’s a wonderful idea. Maria never had a chance to meet the rest of her team. If we can figure out who’s involved with this, perhaps they can help us find Hamilton.’

‘Did you say Hamilton? As in Terrence Hamilton?’

‘Yep, that’s the guy. Why? Have you heard of him?’

Ulster swallowed hard. ‘Indeed I have. He’s a friend of mine.’