The Mayan Secrets

“We’ll try to talk to her,” said Sam.

“Thank you. We’d better get you to Dr. Huerta. He has patients waiting in the next town.” They got up and strolled down the aisle of the church behind Father Gomez. He opened one of the big doors a couple of inches, then said, “Wait.”

Sam and Remi followed his gaze and saw a small squad of heavily armed policemen had arrived in a perso

The sergeant and two of his men went inside and looked around and then came out. The doctor locked the door again. Then he walked back to the car with the sergeant, who directed him to open the trunk. He opened it, they looked inside, and he closed it. The sergeant nodded to the doctor, and got into the passenger seat of the perso

Huerta walked into the church. “That was the same squad of police who came after we wrote to Miss Allersby about what’s happening on her land.”

Father Gomez said, “What did they want with you?”

“Today they’re looking for two people they say are involved in drug smuggling — two strangers, who may be Americans, a man and a woman. They were seen a few miles from here, and when the police raided their camp, they found a large amount of cocaine in their backpacks.”

Sam looked at Remi. “That’s quite a story.”

“I think we’ve got to get you out of here,” said Father Gomez.

“Yes,” said Dr. Huerta. “Come, I’ll take you now.”

Remi said, “We don’t want to endanger you. If they’ll frame us, they’ll frame other people too — maybe you.”

“They’ve given me their message and that will be enough for now. And the sergeant knows even with his friends the drug men, he might be the one who needs a doctor someday. I’m the only one for many miles.”

Remi said, “Father Gomez, we’ll try to let you know how our talk with Sarah Allersby works out.”

“I hope it does. God bless you in your travels.”

They got into the doctor’s car, and he drove them in the direction the trucks had traveled in the night. Almost as soon as the car reached the end of the short main street, the pavement gave way to gravel again. The road wound down and away from the town into a forested valley.

Huerta said, “The town of Santa Maria de los Montañas was a late Mayan settlement. It was built a couple of hundred years after the great cities were abandoned. As you can see, it’s high up, approachable only by one steep road on each side. It was probably a place of refuge after the collapse of the larger society.”

“It must have been a tough place for the Spanish to conquer.”

“They couldn’t do it,” said Dr. Huerta. “The Indians in the area were very warlike. What happened was that Dominican missionaries, friars led by Las Casas, came and converted the Indians peacefully.”

“Bartolomé de Las Casas?” asked Remi.

“Yes,” said Huerta. “He’s a national hero. He founded a mission at Rabinal, pacified the Indians, and baptized them one by one. That’s why this region is called Las Verapaces. It means ‘Lands of True Peace.’”

Sam noticed the doctor’s expression as he drove on. “Is something wrong?”

Dr. Huerta shook his head. “I’m sorry, I was thinking sad thoughts about Las Casas. His dream of a Guatemala where the Mayans had equal rights never came true, even now. The Mayan people have suffered a very long time. And during civil wars in any country, the ones who suffer most are the poorest.”

Remi said, “Is that why you practice medicine way up here?”

He shrugged. “Logic would dictate that I work with the people who need me the most. Whenever I want to leave, I think of that.”

“What’s that up ahead?” said Remi. “It looks like one of the marijuana trucks.”

“Get your heads down,” said Dr. Huerta. “I’ll try to get rid of them.”

Sam and Remi ducked down in the backseat. Sam lay on his side on the floor, Remi lay on the seat and covered him and herself with the blanket Dr. Huerta had on the seat so it looked as though she were sick and the only passenger.

Dr. Huerta drove ahead. The truck was stopped in the middle of the road, and the driver and the guard were out of the cab, waving Huerta’s approaching car to a stop. “It looks like they have engine trouble. They want me to stop,” Dr. Huerta said to Sam and Remi.

“You don’t have much choice,” said Sam. “Do it.”

Dr. Huerta stopped behind the truck, and the driver walked up to his window. He addressed the doctor in Spanish, and the doctor replied, waving his arm in the direction of Remi lying on the backseat. The man quickly stepped back two steps from the car and gestured to the doctor to keep going. Dr. Huerta drove on.

Remi had been listening. “What is parótidas?” she asked.

“It’s a common viral illness. In English, it’s called mumps. I told him you had a case at its most contagious stage. In adult males, it can cause impotence.”

Remi laughed. “Very quick thinking.” She pulled the blanket aside so Sam could sit up beside her.

An hour later, Dr. Huerta dropped them off in a larger village, and soon they were sitting in the back of a bus heading down toward the city of Cobán. From Cobán to Guatemala City was another hundred thirty-three miles, a five-hour trip.

When they reached Guatemala City, they checked into the Real InterContinental Hotel in the center of the Zona Viva, the tenth zone, where the best restaurants and nightlife can be found. When Sam and Remi were up in their room and could plug in their telephones to replenish their charges, Sam called the Guatemala City branch of an American bank where he had an account and arranged to rent a safe-deposit box.

He and Remi walked the three blocks to the bank, rented the box, and placed the gold and jade artifacts they’d found in the underground river in it, where they would be safe.

They walked back to their hotel, stopping in fashionable shops along the way to buy new clothes and a pair of suitcases, and then they called Selma.

“Where have you two been?” she asked. “We’ve been trying to call you for two days.”

“Our phone batteries ran down when we took them for a swim,” said Remi. She gave Selma the name of their hotel, their room number, and a brief version of how they had come to be there. She ended with, “And how is everything at home?”

“Bad,” said Selma. “I’m almost afraid to tell you.”

“I’m going to put you on speaker so Sam can hear too,” said Remi.

“All right,” said Selma. “Someone arranged to have four men come to the university and impersonate FBI and U.S. Customs agents and two Mexican cultural officials. They showed credentials, and the university administrators looked up the names to verify these people existed. So—”

“Did they get the codex?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. I hope you won’t blame David Caine. The university’s lawyers said the codex had to be turned over to legitimate Mexican officials, so the academic vice chancellor led these men right to the archival room where David had the codex under a magnifier. We found out that the administrators even had the campus police standing by in case David had to be restrained.”

“We’re not blaming David,” Sam said. “See if you can find out where Sarah Allersby was at the time. The fact that we had a prowler right after she and her lawyers tried to buy the codex makes her my favorite suspect.”

“Her private plane took off from Los Angeles late the night after the theft,” Selma said. “She had been scheduled to fly out the evening after she came to the house, but a new flight plan was filed the night she actually left.”