The Death Relic

3

The Fiesta Americana Grand Coral Beach is a luxury resort on the north end of Cancún’s hotel district. With sweeping views of Isla Mujeres and the Caribbean Sea, it’s annually recognized as one of the best hotels in Latin America.

From the backseat of Ernesto’s car, Maria stared in awe at the white beaches and turquoise waters that line Boulevard Kukulcan, a causeway that juts away from the peninsula into the Caribbean. During her flight, she had assumed the colour of the water was an optical illusion because she had never seen that shade of blue in a natural setting. But now that she was on the ground, she knew that wasn’t the case. The water was that colour, and it was calling to her. Suddenly, the thought of shopping lost its appeal. All she wanted to do was go to the beach and soak in the surf while her troubles drifted away.

Ernesto studied her reaction in the rear-view mirror. ‘I can tell from your silence, this is your first time in Cancún.’

She nodded but refused to take her eyes off the beach. ‘How did you know?’

‘You are — how you say? — hypnotized by beauty. I see it all the time when guests come from far away. They talk, talk, talk like parrots, until they see the water. Then they no speak until we get to hotel.’ He laughed at the behaviour. ‘This colour is new to you, no?’

She nodded. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘This entire road was built on top of the second largest coral reef in the world. It stretches from Cancún all the way to Belize.’

‘How far is that?’

‘Over two hundred and fifty miles. Up here in Cancún, the water is very shallow — no more than a few feet deep near shore. That is why the colour is so blue. The sun shines on ocean floor.’

‘Whatever the reason, it’s beautiful.’

His chest puffed with pride. ‘Mexico is very different than most people think. Mexico is land of beauty, not violence. It is not like cowboy movie of Wild West.’ He paused, then corrected himself. ‘Actually, I take that back. Central Mexico is still like movie of Wild West. It is so bad even I, Ernesto Fernando Rodriguez, will not go there without a tank. But this part of Mexico — the Mayan Riviera — is very safe for tourists.’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘You stay by hotel, you will be safe. I promise.’

Palm trees and tropical flowers lined the stone driveway that led them to the entrance of the Fiesta Americana, a massive resort that stretched for more than a city block and dwarfed every structure in the vicinity. Consisting of two twelve-storey buildings that were connected by a central lobby and atrium, the outside of the hotel had been painted terracotta, an earthy brown colour that contrasted sharply with the blue sky above and the turquoise waters of the sea.

‘Are you in a hurry?’ Ernesto asked.

She glanced at her watch. ‘Not really. Why?’

‘I would like to introduce you to the staff. They will make your stay very pleasant.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

‘Keep in mind, I don’t do this for everyone, only special guests.’

‘I’m not sure if I qualify as special, but—’

‘Of course you are special! You will marry my son.’

Before she could argue, he stopped the car underneath the covered entryway and honked his horn several times. Long, pronounced beeps that echoed throughout the resort. Within seconds, porters and valets arrived en masse, surrounding his car like a pack of wolves. But they weren’t there for tips. They were there to watch the show.

Grinning like a child, Ernesto hopped out of the driver’s seat and was greeted by a boisterous cheer. He milked the moment for as long as he could, blowing kisses to the crowd and speaking to everyone in rapid Spanish. Maria, who was fluent in the language, wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, and then it happened. A mariachi band appeared out of nowhere. Five musicians, all dressed in silver-studded charro outfits, with wide-brimmed hats, and all ready to perform. The trumpet started first, followed by the guitar, two violins and the Mexican guitarrón. As they played, Ernesto snapped his fingers to the beat and danced his way to Maria’s side of the car, while everyone clapped their hands and sang the song in unison. It was like a scene from a movie.

Maria soaked it all up — the laughter, the teasing, the camaraderie — and tried to remember the last time she’d had this much fun with a group of her friends. Had it been months? Or years? She honestly couldn’t remember. Then again, she didn’t have many friends. A couple from school and a few from work, but none who lived in Italy. And when it came to dating, she put the ‘nun’ in none because she hadn’t slept with a man in a very long time.

The thought was depressing, yet hardly surprising.

She knew her priorities were out of whack.

Over the past decade, the only thing she had cared about was work, and that single-mindedness had taken its toll on her personal life. So much so, she didn’t have one. Ultimately, that was the main reason she’d jumped at the chance to come to Cancún on a working vacation. She’d figured it might shake things up in her life. Might lead her on to a new way of living, where having fun was just as important as having a career.

And if that didn’t happen, at least she could work on her tan.

Grinning from ear to ear, Ernesto opened her door with a flourish. He extended his hand and helped her out of the car. ‘Welcome to the Fiesta Americana, your home away from home in beautiful Cancún, Mexico. As you know, I am Ernesto, and these are my friends!’

He turned and faced the crowd. ‘Amigos, this is Maria.’

They shouted in unison. ‘Hola, Maria!’

‘Hola!’ she shouted back, energized by the scene.

‘Maria will be staying here through the weekend,’ he explained in Spanish. ‘If you see her, I want you to give her extra-special treatment. She might marry my son!’

Maria gasped. ‘Wait! What?’

Over the next few minutes, she tried to set the record straight, but to no avail. The staff was too festive and the music too loud to dispute Ernesto’s claim. After a while, she stopped arguing her case and started having fun instead. Before long, she was dancing with Ernesto and his friends in the middle of the driveway, her troubles a distant memory.

To her, this trip couldn’t have come at a better time.

A week without stress was exactly what she needed.

Sitting in a nearby van, they watched the scene unfold in front of the hotel. They had been following Maria since the airport and would continue to watch her until she left Mexico.

That is, if they let her leave Mexico.

After all, she was the key to everything.