But secretly, she was also hoping for another glimpse of the future.
She did not pretend to understand Dorion’s explanation for the strange effect, but if it was true — if the phenomenon could be reproduced — it would open up a whole new understanding of ancient belief systems.
Maybe that was why Brian Hodges had tried to kill them.
They made their way back through the museum, a converted military fort located in the bustling downtown section of the capital city, and headed for their hotel just a few blocks away. As soon as they were on the steps outside, Professor begged off.
“Hey, you two go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Jade raised a suspicious eyebrow. “More SEAL stuff?”
Professor laughed easily. “I could tell you, but…you know.” He drew a finger across his throat and made a gagging sound. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time for happy hour.”
Without further explanation, he headed back up the steps and vanished behind a gaggle of tourists. Jade felt a twinge of irritation, mostly because he hadn’t deigned to consult with her before running off, but she shrugged it off. She had Dorion to keep her company, and now that she knew him a little better, and understood the reason for his awkwardness during their initial meeting, she almost found him charming, in a brainy nerd sort of way. Jade had decided to forego company in favor of a little indulgent luxury. She hadn’t even had a proper shower since their escape from the Teotihuacan Underworld.
Their hotel, the New Balmoral, was just a few blocks from the museum, walking distance along an avenue crowded with pedestrian traffic and street merchants hawking everything from handmade decorative ribbons to bootleg DVDs. San Jose was a pretty typical example of an old New World colonial capital. The architecture was like a mosaic of the city’s history, from the 1850s to the 1950s, strongly influenced by the Spanish presence, but in between old churches and historic buildings, were the ever-present signs of twenty-first century encroachment: advertisements for Pizza Hut, McDonalds and the like.
Once back in her room, Jade started running a bath, but while she waited for the tub to fill up with hot water, she decided to have a look at the leather bound journal they had taken from the mummified remains of the Spanish explorer. Professor had entrusted it to her back in Mexico, but she had postponed reading it in the vain hopes that she might be able to do so in a climate controlled restoration laboratory. Since that wasn’t an option, her air-conditioned hotel room would have to do.
The book seemed to have held up well despite the passage of centuries, probably because no one had touched it in all that time. She opened to the first page and started reading, translating as she went along.
23rd October, Anno Domini 1593
I am going to die here, and there will be no one to grant me absolution. I pray, let this serve as my final confession. May the Lord, in His mercy, grant me entry into the Kingdom of Heaven.
I have not lived a virtuous life, yet in the days that have passed since my last confession, I have endeavored to carry out the will of God on Earth. If I have sinned, then my sin is Pride. Have I done these things for God’s glory, or my own? I think that if I had His blessing, this Fate would not have befallen me.
Four years ago, with my companion Alvaro Diego Menendez Castillo, I went forth on a mission to defeat the Heretic Queen’s conjurer, whose eyes see all…
Jade flipped through the book until she found the last page, which included a signature: Gil Perez.
She thought the name sounded familiar, but since it was about as generic as John Smith, odds were good that she was merely confusing the author of this record with someone else. She flipped back to the front and found the words that had immediately aroused her interest.
The Heretic Queen’s conjurer whose eyes see all.
In 1593, or rather 1589 when the Spaniard had embarked on his mission, only one person would have been described as the Heretic Queen: Queen Elizabeth of England. England and Spain had been in a state of undeclared war for years, with English privateers raiding treasure galleons on the Spanish Main. The hostilities had reached a boiling point in 1588 when Spain sent an armada of ships to attack the British Isles, but in one of the greatest upsets in military history, English forces had devastated the Spanish Armada.
Historians had written volumes on the subject of the defeat of the Spanish Armada, analyzing the strategic situation and the military tactics employed, but one undisputed contributing factor had been the weather. A southwesterly wind had driven the Spanish ships into the stormy North Atlantic where nearly a third of them had been wrecked. King Phillip II had blamed the defeat of his forces on a “Protestant Wind.”
What very few legitimate historians mentioned was the role played by Dr. John Dee, alchemist, court astrologer and adviser to Queen Elizabeth in all matters relating to science and the occult, which in the sixteenth century, were effectively indistinguishable. According to some contemporary sources, Dee had predicted the coming of the decisive wind, and had used that foreknowledge to plan the English defenses.
Gil Perez had evidently bought into the hype, believing that Dee had not merely made a fortuitous meteorological prediction but actually employed uncanny power to give the English a strategic advantage. His mission to “defeat the Heretic Queen’s conjurer” had been the start of a journey that had ended three hundred feet below the Pyramid of the Sun, surrounded by orbs that imparted the ability to see the future, just as Dee had claimed to do. That cast everything Jade thought she knew about John Dee, not to mention science and the occult, in a new light.
With the book still in hand, she went to the tub, turned off the spigot, and let the water drain out. She could soak in a hot bath anytime; right now, she needed to know how Gil Perez had wound up in Mexico.
She had just settled back in to read more when the room phone started ringing. The noise startled her; who used regular telephones these days? It had to be the front desk, but why they would be calling, she couldn’t imagine. She picked up and answered tentatively in Spanish. “¿Bueno?”
“Jade?” It was Professor. He spoke quickly, not waiting for her to acknowledge. “Listen. You need to grab Paul and get out of there, now. They’ve found us.”
Professor noticed the blonde woman right away — not a surprise really — but it took him a while to realize that she wasn’t merely another foreign tourist idling an afternoon away in the National Museum. From a distance, she looked drop dead gorgeous; super model thin but with the kind of noticeable assets that could only be the product of silicone and a surgeon’s knife. A closer look, which wasn’t easy because she seemed to be making a real effort to keep her distance, revealed that, despite her rather plain attire — a simple silk blouse and cotton slacks, both in hues of beige — she was every bit as glamorous as he had thought she would be, and that the rest of her beautiful appearance was as artificial as her bust line.
Jade probably would have noticed as much at a glance; women had a way of mentally dissecting other women, pinpointing all the flaws and perceived weaknesses in an instant, sizing them up as potential rivals, or at least that’s what Professor assumed. It took him a little longer to spot the plastic surgery scars and the unnaturally smooth forehead that hinted at botox treatments. These things didn’t necessarily diminish her beauty, but they did reveal a little about her character, which seemed important since he was now quite certain that she was following them. Twice, he caught her craning her head to look around other museum visitors, and then looking away quickly to avoid being noticed.