The Death Relic

56

Payne and Ulster caught up with Jones and Maria near a modern gate that led to a jungle path. Signs posted by the Mexican government warned visitors not to trespass. But the foursome ignored the warning and headed down the trail.

Known as Chichén Viejo in Spanish, Old Chichén is a relatively new discovery that isn’t open to the general public. At least not yet. Archaeologists have been working on the site for nearly a decade, trying to clear the roots and vines that have overwhelmed the ruins, but progress has been slow. Pyramids that once stood above the trees are now buried underneath them. Buildings with exotic titles, such as the Temple of the Owls, the Platform of the Great Turtle and the Temple of the Monkeys, were even more connected with nature than their names implied, because they were covered in plants, leaves and insects. Although many of the ruins have been excavated and restored to their former glory, many more are still waiting to be rescued from the tyranny of neglect and time.

As the group passed discarded columns and fallen shrines along the way, they felt like explorers in a forgotten land. Birds cawed overhead. Animals scampered through the brush. Everywhere they looked, they saw abandoned blocks, carved with serpents and Mayan faces.

Jones loved every second of it. ‘This. Is. Awesome.’

Ulster laughed. ‘I was thinking the same thing myself. As much as I enjoyed the polished brilliance of El Castillo, there is something special about this. To see a lost city in an un-groomed habitat is more — dare I say it? — authentic.’

Maria agreed. ‘Good word, Petr. This does feel authentic.’

Payne swatted a bug on the back of his neck. ‘Yeah. Authentic.’

After snaking through the jungle for half a mile, the trail opened into a large clearing. Guarded by two carved sentinels that were taller and wider than Payne, the main excavation site was a beehive of activity. Workers walked to and fro, hauling large stones in wheelbarrows and carrying handfuls of equipment. Refurbished temples, which looked like they’d been transplanted from the Great North Platform, glistened in the afternoon sun. Orders were being shouted in Spanish, English and a few other languages Payne couldn’t place. Despite their geographical differences, everyone seemed to be working as a cohesive unit — one unified team trying to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. In many ways it was inspirational.

Maria glanced around the busy site. ‘Now what?’

‘We demand to see their leader,’ cracked Jones.

Payne smiled. ‘Or we ask for Red. That was her nickname, right?’

Maria nodded. ‘That’s what the tour guide said.’

Jones shrugged. ‘I guess that would work, too.’

Payne led the way, followed by Maria and Ulster, then Jones. Even though they felt safe amongst the workers, the two ex-MANIACs remembered why they were there. This wasn’t a family reunion. This trip was to find a man who had vanished from a crowded hotel. A man who had a trunk full of weapons and artefacts. A man whose disappearance had triggered interest from the CIA. Payne and Jones didn’t expect trouble, but they were ready for it just in case.

It took less than ten minutes to find someone who recognized the redhead. He directed the group to the southwest corner of the site, where a number of tents were nestled under a canopy of trees. During the day, the area was mostly deserted. But at night it was filled with archaeologists from around the world, who shared exaggerated stories of their exploits while eating plates of beans and drinking bottles of cheap wine.

None of that was going on now.

As they approached the camp, Payne spotted Tiffany outside a small, camouflaged tent. Sitting on a carved rock that resembled a Mayan head, she was lost in thought as she sharpened a hunter’s knife with a practised hand. One stroke on the whetstone after another, shaping the blade to razor-sharp perfection. With a single glance, Payne knew she wasn’t an intern. He didn’t know what she was, but it sure as hell wasn’t an archaeologist.

‘Carousel,’ he whispered to Jones. It was a code from their military days. It told Jones to circle round behind the target. Immediately, Jones understood the situation and darted into the trees to his left. Something didn’t sit right with his friend. He went on high alert.

Up ahead, Tiffany cocked her head to the side, like a predator processing information. She remained like this for a few seconds, listening to four sets of footsteps in the underbrush, trying to decide what to do next. Finally, she cast her eyes forward and stared at Payne.

A smile crossed her lips as she rose to her feet.

‘Took you long enough,’ she said to him.

Payne slid his hand behind his back and reached for his gun, which had been tucked into his waistband and covered by his shirt-tail. ‘Excuse me?’

She continued to sharpen her blade. ‘I figured noon at the latest.’

Maria and Ulster tensed when they saw the knife in her hand. They nearly panicked when they saw the gun in Payne’s. Something bad was happening. Something they didn’t understand.

‘Do I know you?’ Payne asked, unsure.

‘No, but I know you. In fact, I know all of you. Been waiting for you all day.’

Payne continued forward, one tentative step at a time. ‘Is that so?’

She lifted the knife in front of her to inspect the blade. ‘Yep.’

To Payne, the movement was a sign of aggression. With the knife up high, he knew she could fling it at them with a simple snap of her wrist. It was a chance he wasn’t willing to take. Payne whipped his gun out as Jones moved into position from behind. In less than a second, they had her covered from two divergent points.

‘Would you mind putting that down?’ Payne growled. It was a command not a question. ‘It’s been an interesting weekend.’

She smiled at his request. ‘For you and me both.’

‘Drop the weapon,’ he said bluntly.

The grin never left her face as she flung the knife to the ground. It stuck in the dirt a few feet from the entrance to the tent. ‘Happy now?’

Payne shook his head. ‘Happier, but not happy. Who the hell are you?’

‘I dropped mine, now you drop yours.’

‘Not until you tell me who you are.’

Her smile waned. ‘I’m Tiffany Duffy. Now drop the gun.’

From the corner of his eye, Payne saw Jones nod. He knew he could lower his weapon because Jones had her covered. He tucked his gun into the front of his belt. ‘Better?’

‘Better.’ She pointed at a log near the tent. ‘Go on. Take a seat. We need to talk.’

‘We’d prefer to stand.’

She shrugged as she lowered herself onto the carved stone. ‘Suit yourself. But I’m sitting down. Still recovering from yesterday’s excitement. I’m not as young as I used to be.’

‘Tiffany,’ Payne said, ‘I can tell from the tone of your voice that you find all of this amusing, but every second that passes without an explanation brings us a little bit closer to a messy scene. Ain’t that right, DJ?’

Jones finally revealed his presence in the nearby trees. ‘My hand is starting to cramp. Must. Squeeze. Trigger.’

She glanced over her shoulder and laughed. ‘Wow! You guys are just like I imagined. I’ve heard stories, you know. Many, many stories.’

‘Is that so? From whom?’ Payne demanded.

‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

He read between the lines. ‘Are you Agency?’

She smiled at him. ‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

‘What are you at liberty to say?’

She continued to grin. ‘We’ve been expecting you.’

Just then, the flap on the tent flipped open. Acting on instinct, Payne pulled his gun before he had a chance to see who it was. Not that it mattered. At this point in the game, he didn’t know what was going on or who to believe. Other than Jones and Ulster, he didn’t have faith in anyone at the site. That included Maria, who had suddenly emerged on his radar after years of dormancy. Although he didn’t suspect her of anything, she certainly hadn’t earned his trust yet. That would take a lot longer than a weekend, if it happened at all.

‘Are you all right?’ said a man inside the tent. ‘I thought I heard voices.’

He stepped out and saw the barrel of Payne’s gun.

Then he saw Payne. And then he saw Maria.

If he was surprised or scared, he sure didn’t show it. Instead, the emotion on his face was one of pure relief, as if the guilt he’d been feeling for a thousand years had finally been released.

The guns didn’t matter. Neither did Payne and Jones.

The only thing he cared about was Maria’s safety.

Now that she was there, Terrence Hamilton could finally relax.