Paco took a deep breath. ‘What happened next is still unknown to my people. Some claim Cortés killed Montezuma as a sign of his power. Others claim Montezuma was stoned to death by the Aztecs as punishment for being captured. In many ways, the truth does not matter. All that matters is what happened to our beautiful city.’
He pointed to the south. ‘In May of 1521, the Iztapalapa Causeway was blocked by the Spanish. Then the Tlacopan Causeway to the west and the Tepeyácac Causeway to the north. Next they ruptured our aqueducts, which cut off fresh water to our city. For the next three months, the Aztec people suffered. Without food and water, they became weak and the smallpox started to spread. Before long, they were no match for Spain. Cortés landed his troops on the south end of our island and went from house to house, slaughtering everyone. Finally, in August of 1521, our new ruler, Cuauhtémoc, was forced to surrender to Cortés.’
‘Did Cortés kill him?’ someone asked from the crowd.
‘Not at first,’ Paco said, shaking his head. ‘The Spanish believed the Aztecs were hiding a great treasure — one of gold and jewels — so Cuauhtémoc was tortured to reveal its location. The barbaric Spaniards placed his feet in a raging fire, trying to burn the information from him, but he refused to tell them anything. For his bravery, he is still honoured to this day. There is a giant statue of Cuauhtémoc on Avenida Reforma. Plus, there is a bust over there.’
He pointed to the far side of the plaza.
Everyone turned except Tiffany, who remained focused on Paco.
‘What happened to the treasure?’ she wondered.
He looked at her and smiled. There was one in every group.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘the Aztec treasure. More extravagant than you can possibly imagine. Thanks to Cuauhtémoc, the Spanish never found it. Or maybe they did. The truth is, I do not know. According to some, the treasure never existed — nothing but a myth to entertain children. According to others, it is still waiting to be found. Over the centuries, many explorers have crossed the sea to discover it. Most of them never returned home.’
‘What about you? Do you think there was a treasure?’ she asked.
‘In my dreams, I picture a cave filled with gold. It is buried deep underneath Mexican soil. Who knows?’ He stomped his foot three times. ‘Maybe it is underneath this plaza.’
The group laughed at his comment because they assumed it was a joke. But Paco shook his head. He had one more story to tell them before he finished the tour.
‘I know what you are thinking: how could this be? How could something so big be sleeping underneath Zócalo? Well, I am about to tell you — and you will be impressed. Once Cortés took control of Tenochtitlan, he ordered its destruction. He kept the four districts and the basic layout of our city, but the buildings didn’t survive. He had the main temple completely razed. Then he took the stones and used them to pave this plaza.’
He turned north and pointed at the cathedral. ‘Next, Cortés built a church where the four districts merged. He built it there so everyone in the city would learn about Jesus. To make sure we got his message, he built a church or shrine on top of every Aztec temple in Tenochtitlan. From that point on, if we worshipped our gods, we were sentenced to death.’
He took a deep breath. The thought of it made him angry. ‘By 1573, the year the Spanish started the cathedral, most natives had converted. Not by blood, but in their minds. They no longer thought like Aztecs. Now they thought like Spaniards. This was not their fault, for this was all they knew. Tales of our city had been passed from father to son, but that was not the same as being there. How can one learn if one cannot see for oneself? Before long, Tenochtitlan was gone from memory. Forgotten by history until 1978.’
‘What happened then?’ someone shouted.
Paco grinned at the group. ‘Another miracle.’
He explained that a worker for the electric company was digging a block away from the plaza. Known as the ‘island of the dogs’, the area was slightly elevated from the rest of the neighbourhood. Anytime there was flooding, which happened every rainy season, street dogs would gather there to avoid the rising water. Approximately six feet underground, the worker’s shovel hit something solid. He summoned other workers to the ‘island’, who helped him uncover a pink andesite monolith. Weighing 8.5 tons and measuring nearly 11 feet in diameter, the stone disk depicted the Aztec moon goddess, Coyolxauhqui, and dated back to the fifteenth century. Upon closer inspection, historians realized it had been placed at the foot of the Huitzilopochtli temple during Axayacatl’s reign, sometime between 1469 and 1481.
Following its discovery, the Mexican government gave permission to tear down an entire city block to excavate the Templo Mayor site. Over the next four years, they uncovered the construction history of the central temple and numerous artefacts that overturned our basic understanding of Aztec religion, culture and ideology. The project, led by Mexican archaeologist Eduardo Matos Moctezuma, culminated in the creation of the Templo Mayor Museum a block from the plaza, where the monolith and other relics are displayed.
Paco pointed out the location of the museum before concluding his tour. ‘Like I say earlier, who knows what is underneath our feet? Maybe it is dirt, maybe it is lake, or maybe it is gold. In a country like Mexico, you never know until you dig.’
26
Jones glanced in the Hummer’s rear-view mirror and noticed the backseat had been folded down to accommodate a large object of some kind. He didn’t know what the item was since a black tarpaulin had been strapped over the top of it and secured by a number of bungee cords, but he figured it had to be important if Hamilton had dragged it all the way to Cancún.
He spoke into his headset. ‘Refresh my memory. What was Hamilton getting from the car when he disappeared?’
Maria answered from across the parking lot: ‘Some documents that he wanted me to translate. He wouldn’t tell me what they were, though. I think he wanted to test my knowledge.’
‘Documents, huh?’
‘That’s what he said. Why?’
‘I think he brought more than documents.’
‘Like what?’
Jones reached out and pushed the tarp. The object underneath didn’t budge. It just sat there, veiled, like a forgotten treasure waiting to be found. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s a corpse.’
‘What?’ she shrieked.
He flinched at the shrill noise in his ear. ‘Calm down, Maria. I said I don’t think it’s a corpse. Can’t be sure, though. It’s covered with a big-ass tarp.’
‘Is it Hamilton?’
‘Wow! You get something in your head and you won’t let go. I said I don’t think it’s a corpse. How many times do I have to say that?’
‘But how do you know? If you can’t see it, how do you know?’
‘Because it’s a hundred degrees in here and nothing stinks. If Hamilton had been stashed in here overnight, you could smell him from where you’re standing.’
She took a deep breath, partly to calm down and partly to smell the air. As far as she could tell, nothing in the vicinity reeked. ‘Then why would you say that?’
‘Say what?’
‘ “I don’t think it’s a corpse.” The only reason I thought it might be a corpse was because you brought it up.’