The Mayan Secrets

Sam said, “The ideal end would be if she would stop pretending to be an archaeologist and send the codex she stole to the Mexican government.”

“Of course. But do you honestly think we’ll wear her down enough for that?”

“Not likely,” he said.

“So maybe what we ought to be doing is thinking of ways to steal the codex back and return it ourselves,” said Remi.

“I have been.”

“Really? What have you thought of?”

“I’m stuck on phase one — finding out where she keeps it.”

In the afternoon, Sam and Remi approached Santa Maria de los Montañas in the only way possible, from the road that rose drastically upward from the valley below. The Jeep climbed back and forth up the hairpin curves, unprotected by guardrails, followed by a long, straight rise through thick forest to the crest. The trees on the forested upper altitudes kept drivers from seeing much of the road ahead.

When they were nearly to the last stretch of road before the rise, Remi pointed at a spot that was bare except for bushes and brush. “I think that was the place where you landed when we jumped off the marijuana truck. Want to do it again in daylight so I can get a picture for my scrapbook?”

“Thanks for offering, but I think I won’t have trouble remembering.”

“Suit yourself,” said Remi. “Can we stop at the church and see Father Gomez?”

“I think we have to,” Sam said. “We said we’d let him know how our meeting with Sarah Allersby went.”

When they reached the top of the hill, they parked on the plaza near the old church, then walked to the small house behind it that served as the priest’s home and office and knocked.

In a moment, Father Gomez appeared at the door. He smiled. “Señor and Señora Fargo. I’m delighted to see you again.”

“Thank you, Father,” said Sam. “We thought we’d stop by for a talk.”

Father Gomez said, “I can tell from your serious expression that the news will not bring me joy. But we must talk. Do you have time to have tea with me?”

“Of course,” said Remi. “We’d be delighted.”

“Come in, come in,” he said, and ushered them into his simple office with its dark wooden furniture. If it weren’t for the open laptop computer, the room could have been from the sixteenth century. He led them into a small, old-fashioned dining room, with a long table in the same dark, heavy wood. An elderly lady, with brown skin, pronounced Mayan features, and her gray hair tied in a tight bun, entered the room.

Father Gomez said, “Señora Velasquez, this is Señor Fargo and Señora Fargo. They’ll be joining us for tea.”

Señora Velasquez brought out plain white china and utensils, which Father Gomez and the Fargos arranged on the table. After Señora Velasquez brought the tea and cookies, she returned to the kitchen.

“Won’t Señora Velasquez join us?” asked Remi.

“It’s not her custom,” Father Gomez said. “In a small town parish, when people meet with the priest, they like privacy. Please, Señora Fargo, will you pour for us?”

“I’m happy to,” Remi said. She took over the ceremonial role, pouring the tea and distributing the cups on saucers.

“Now,” said Father Gomez, “are you ready to tell me what happened when you went to visit Miss Allersby?”

Remi and Sam told him the whole story, begi

Father Gomez looked troubled. “I’m sorry that she has turned out to be such a selfish, misguided woman. Do you think the authorities will force her to stop letting narcotics traffickers use her land?”

Sam sighed. “I’m told by responsible people in Guatemala City that things will get better in time. The existence of the Mayan site near the fields is known now. And the fields themselves have been drawn to the attention of the national police. But improvements happen slowly, and Miss Allersby has some powerful friends who can make it even slower.”

“It was good of you to come all the way back here to report this to me,” said Father Gomez.

Sam held up both hands. “No, please. That wasn’t the only reason we’re here.”

Remi said, “We told you that we were rushing to verify, photograph, and register the Mayan sites in the codex. That’s the other reason why we’re here.”

“Here?” Father Gomez looked shocked. “Not in Santa Maria de los Montañas?”

“Not in the town,” said Sam. “We think it’s above the town, on a plateau. The map shows it as something that looks like a tower or a fort.”

“Very interesting,” said Father Gomez. He looked uneasy. “Would you please allow me to hire a guide for you? I’d hate to have you get lost up in these hills.”

“No thank you, Father. We have the precise location on GPS and also aerial photographs,” said Remi. “We’re getting good at finding these places. What would be helpful is if you could tell us where we can store our car safely.”

“Yes, of course,” he said. “There’s Pepe Rubio’s garage. He’s the town’s mechanic and keeps cars overnight quite often.”

“That sounds perfect,” said Sam. “He can give us an oil change at the same time.”

Remi stood and began clearing the plates from the dining table while Sam and Father Gomez chatted. As she entered the kitchen, she caught Señora Velasquez stepping back from the door as though she had been eavesdropping. Remi smiled and handed her the plates, but Señora Velasquez didn’t return the smile.

They set out from the priest’s house, and Remi told Sam about Señora Velasquez. “I’m sure she was listening,” said Remi.

“No harm done. We would have been happy to have her join in the conversation.”

“I know. But I’ll bet a lot of people around here wonder how their secrets get out.”

Soon they found Pepe’s garage. They could see they had the right place from the cars parked all over the block and in front of the house. They found Pepe putting on a set of tires. Sam hired him to service their car and keep it safe.

Pepe referred them to the nearby house of the Pérez family, who were willing to rent them a guest room for the night. In the evening, they ate at the small restaurant where they’d had breakfast with Father Gomez and Dr. Huerta on their first visit.

The following morning, as the sun grew bright, they set out on foot to find the structure they’d seen on the map in the Mayan codex. It was a beautiful day as they crossed the fields, cleared for planting corn and beans, and then entered the forest. After some searching, they found a path that led up the side of the plateau, above and beyond the town.

After climbing about a hundred feet on the path, Remi stopped. “Look at this.”

She stood at a place where the path turned upward and to the left. There was a steep incline to the next level, but they could see that it had been reinforced with slabs of rock laid horizontally like giant steps.

“I guess this means we’ve found the right trail,” Sam said. He joined her in climbing toward the turn ahead.

“That’s right,” she said. “But in all the other sites we’ve visited, the stone was all overgrown. This is exposed.”

They walked along the path, climbing steadily. Sam said, “This is closer to a place where people live than the other sites were. And it does make sense to use a perfectly good path when you find one instead of blazing a new trail.”

They climbed for a while, unimpeded by thick brush or centuries of fallen earth. Remi said, “The part I haven’t figured out yet is why.”