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She tried to explain. ‘I’m locked in my bedroom inside my suite, but I don’t know how safe it is. I think they grabbed him downstairs.’

‘Grabbed who?’ Payne asked.

‘My boss. His name is Terrence Hamilton.’

Without delay, Jones punched the name into his smart phone and pulled up as much information as he could from the Internet. Within seconds, he knew Hamilton was an American anthropologist from a prestigious university, and that he specialized in the Maya.

Payne continued the questioning. ‘Do you know who grabbed him?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t see. But he left the restaurant and didn’t come back. He said he would be gone for five minutes — he had to get something from his car — but he never returned. I waited there for an hour. I even ordered a second drink, but he never came back.’

‘Did you look for his car?’

She nodded. ‘It’s still outside my hotel.’

‘What hotel?’

‘The Fiesta Americana.’

Payne whistled. ‘Nice place.’

As a connoisseur of fine hotels, he was familiar with its extravagance. Although he had never stayed there, he knew it was the type of resort that had security guards and hundreds of cameras. That meant that if Hamilton had been snatched from the property grounds, the odds were pretty good that someone knew something. With the right amount of persuasion, Payne was confident they could get to the bottom of things in less than an hour. Maybe two if they needed a translator who wouldn’t faint at the sight of blood. Sometimes they were tough to find.

‘Maria,’ Jones said as he re-entered the conversation, ‘we can worry about your boss later. For now, I need to make sure you’re not in danger. Are you safe in your room?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.

‘Why don’t you know?’

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. ‘When I came back here, things had been moved around, like someone was looking for something.’

‘Could it have been a maid?’ Jones asked.

‘No!’ she snapped. ‘It wasn’t a maid! My room was tossed. My clothes are everywhere. And my passport is missing. Someone took it from my nightstand.’

‘Your passport was stolen?’

‘As far as I can tell — unless it’s buried under this mess.’

Payne tried to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry about your passport. It happens all the time. We’ll contact your embassy and get you a new one. No problem at all.’

Maria shook her head. ‘I’m not worried about my passport, I’m worried about Hamilton. I think someone grabbed him when he went to his car.’

‘But you didn’t see it?’

‘No, I didn’t see it.’

‘Then why would someone grab him? Is he rich? Does he have enemies? What can you tell us about him?’

‘Not much,’ she admitted. ‘He called out of the blue and hired me for a job that he refused to discuss on the phone — instead he hinted at a major discovery. We were in the middle of discussing the specifics when he disappeared.’

‘Hold up!’ Payne demanded. ‘You met the guy today?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure he didn’t ditch you?’

‘Believe me, that’s the first thing I thought when he didn’t come back to the restaurant. But the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. He was in the middle of telling me about my role in things when he went to his car to get some documents. But his car is still here and he left his briefcase at the table. If he was ditching me, surely he would have taken both.’

Payne agreed. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘Couple that with my room being tossed and …’

‘You’re right. It seems suspicious.’

Jones interrupted them. ‘Speaking of your room, if someone searched it, there’s always the chance they might come back. Did you barricade your door?’

She nodded. ‘With everything I could find.’

‘Good.’

‘Same with the glass door to my terrace. I rolled up newspapers and wedged them in the track so the door can’t slide open.’

‘That’s smart. How high is your room?’

‘Top floor.’

‘Good. That’ll be tough to access from outside.’

She took a deep breath. ‘What else can I do?’

Jones shrugged. ‘Not much, unless you want to call the police. But I’ll be honest, the police in Mexico are pretty damn corrupt. I know that from personal experience.’

‘No,’ she admitted, ‘I prefer this. I feel safer already.’

Jones appreciated the sentiment but felt helpless being so far away. ‘You know, it’s funny that you called when you did.’

‘Really? Why’s that?’

Jones snatched the phone from Payne, then turned off the speakerphone so he could talk to her in private. ‘Because Jon and I were looking for somewhere to go this weekend. Somewhere warmer than Pittsburgh.’

She smiled. ‘I forgot how much you hate the cold.’

‘I really do.’

‘Not to rub it in, but the weather is gorgeous here. I was going to try out my new bikini this weekend.’

‘Me, too.’

She laughed. ‘I’m serious. This was supposed to be a working vacation. Now I’m stuck in my room, worried for my safety. I feel like such an idiot.’

‘Listen,’ Jones said in a soothing voice, ‘I know you aren’t the type of woman who needs to be rescued. Trust me, I know that better than anyone. But it sounds like your boss might be in serious trouble, the kind I can handle. If you like, I’d be more than happy—’

Payne cleared his throat loudly.

Jones smiled and corrected himself. ‘I mean, we would be more than happy to come to Cancún to look into things for you. That is, if you’re interested.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I’m interested.’

He grinned. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

15

Saturday, 11 February

Because of the winter storm, the Payne Industries jet couldn’t take off from its private airfield until early the next morning. Not only did the runway have to be cleared of snow, the plane had to be de-iced to prevent mechanical failure. Once they got off the ground and above the thick layer of grey clouds, they had a smooth four-hour flight all the way to Cancún.

Having called ahead, a silver SUV was waiting for them at the hangar when they landed in Mexico. Payne handled the paperwork while Jones tossed their bags into the trunk and entered the hotel address into the vehicle’s satelite navigation system. Less than thirty minutes later, they were pulling up to the Fiesta Americana, where they were greeted by a valet and zero mariachi bands. To them, that was a good thing. No one should be forced to listen to trumpets before noon.

So as not to scare Maria, Jones called her from the lobby to let her know they were on the way up to her suite. By the time they got there, she had pulled the furniture away from the door and put down the steak knife she had clutched throughout the night. For her, sleep had been next to impossible. She had dozed off once or twice while reading a book on the Maya, but the smallest sound in the hall or outside her window had caused her to wake in a panic.

All in all, it had been a dreadful night.

Just before dawn, as the sun struggled to rise above the distant horizon, she tried to recall the last time she couldn’t fall asleep because of fear. Was it during a thunderstorm when she was a child? Or the first time she went camping alone? Eventually, she reached an ironic conclusion, one that put a smile on her face and let her know that everything would be all right.

For as long as she could remember, she had always loved the proverb, ‘God works in mysterious ways.’ Her mother had taught it to her at an early age, and Maria believed it with all her heart — so much so that she had said it thousands of times over the years. Despite the constant repetition and her steadfast belief in its message, she was still amazed whenever the adage proved true. And in her mind, this was one of those times. Why? Because the last time fear had kept her awake was the night she had met Payne and Jones in Milan.