‘Sorry. Not ringing any bells.’
‘We watched it on cable last month.’
‘We did?’
‘Bridges is a football player who gets hurt and comes down here to find her. Alex Karras is a bad guy. Phil Collins sang the title song … Crap, what was it called?’
Maria supplied the answer. ‘Against All Odds.’
‘Yes!’ Jones blurted. ‘Against All Odds. Thank you for remembering. That would have driven me crazy.’
‘Actually, I’ve never seen it,’ she said.
‘Then how did you know the name?’
She held up a brochure. It featured a screenshot of the movie showing a shirtless Jeff Bridges and a scantily clad Rachel Ward making out in the Caribbean surf, along with a proclamation in Spanish and English that Against All Odds was filmed here in the early 1980s.
Payne pointed at the photo. ‘Now I remember it. Those two did it in the ruins.’
She glanced at the image. ‘Really?’
Jones nodded. ‘Oh, yeah. They were “researching the Maya”.’
Maria laughed at the term he had coined earlier that morning. ‘Apparently, I chose the wrong field of study. Researching the Vatican is not nearly as sexy.’
Jones scrunched up his face. ‘It really isn’t.’
The roar of an engine and the squealing of heavy brakes caught their attention. They turned and spotted two large tour buses pulling into the parking lot. A tour guide hopped out first, followed by dozens of people from all parts of the globe. Wanting to beat the crowd, Payne, Jones and Maria hustled through the main gate and entered the Pre-Columbian city before they got caught up in a stampede of tourists.
Named after the Mayan word for wall, Tulum is one of the most scenic sites in the Caribbean and the third most-visited archaeological site in Mexico. Protected by steep cliffs to the east, the city was guarded by massive walls to the north, south and west. They were made from large stones excavated from a nearby quarry. During the city’s heyday, its walls averaged 13 feet in height and over 20 feet in width. The largest of these was the western wall. Nearly 1,300 feet in length, it took years to build and ran parallel to the coastline. For additional safety, guard towers were installed in the northwest and southwest corners of the city, high above the walls that protected the northern and southern flanks. These two walls, approximately 560 feet in length, had narrow gates that allowed people to enter and exit the city.
At least that used to be the case.
Now the walls were barely there.
Centuries of erosion and neglect had reduced the mighty barricades to rubble. Though a few sections were still standing, the once-impenetrable fortress was a shadow of its former self. And yet, there was an unmistakable magic about the place. Payne felt it as he walked along the dirt path, snaking his way past the crumbling palaces and temples. He sensed it when the wind whipped through the palm trees that dotted the terrain and ruffled his hair. And he saw it when he stared at El Castillo, the main building on the site. Rising high above the other structures, the ‘castle’ was situated against the cliffs to the east. Outlined by the blue sky and turquoise sea, the grey stones seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.
Payne stopped and stared in amazement. Having circled the globe on several occasions, he struggled to remember the last time he’d seen something as breathtaking as Tulum — the ruins and the sea were a startling combination.
Maria noticed the look on his face and sidled up to him. ‘Pretty impressive.’
He nodded. ‘It sure is.’
‘Amazingly, the Maya built this place more than a century before Columbus arrived. Imagine how startling it must have been for the Spanish when they spotted Tulum from the sea. They were expecting a land full of savages. They found this instead.’
Payne smiled at the notion. ‘They probably shit their pants. Trust me, there’s nothing worse than bad reconnaissance — especially that far from home. Without the proper supplies, they had no choice but to go forward. Maybe make some allies and hope for the best.’
Maria pointed at El Castillo. ‘Notice the rounded columns and the clean line of the stairs. They did all of that without metal tools.’
‘Really? How’d they cut the stone?’
‘According to this guidebook, they used obsidian.’
‘Obsidian? Isn’t that glass?’
She nodded. ‘Volcanic glass. They also used it for weapons. Their swords were made of wood, but the blades were made from obsidian.’
He glanced at the book in her hand. ‘Is there a picture in there? I’d love to see what they looked like.’
‘Sorry, no picture. But Hamilton might have one.’
‘A sword?’
‘Maybe. But I was talking about a picture.’
Payne grunted and returned his gaze to the architecture. Without the precision of metal tools, the Maya had accomplished some amazing things. ‘For the record, I’d love to get my hands on a Mayan sword. I have a collection of ancient weapons, but nothing from this region.’
‘Really? I didn’t know that,’ she fibbed. In truth, Jones had told her all about the collection during their drive to Tulum and had encouraged her to bring it up. It was his attempt to give Payne and Maria something to talk about other than their mutual frustration. ‘I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do. If you help me find Hamilton, I’ll try to make that happen.’
Payne smiled, even though he sensed that Jones had put her up to it. But in his mind, that didn’t matter. At least she was trying.
35
Tiffany had heard horror stories about the way women were treated in Mexico City. She knew females were groped so often on the Metro that a third of the carriages were designated ‘women-only’ during rush hour — a rule that was enforced by armed guards. She also knew that women were abducted so frequently in the Federal District that the government approved the use of ‘pink taxis’, a fleet of pink cars driven by women for women, which were equipped with safety locks and alarm buttons. And yet here she was, a ‘lowly’ woman, ready to rip off the most powerful criminal in the region.
The irony of the situation made her smile.
Wearing oversized sunglasses and a floppy white hat that kept her red hair hidden, Tiffany was confident no one would suspect her of anything as she strolled through the busy plaza. Here, amongst the tourists, she was just another face in the crowd. The rest of her crew blended in as well. Her point man was sitting on a bench in front of the Metropolitan Cathedral where he was able to keep his eyes on traffic from the east. They had mapped out the most direct route from Hector’s house, so they knew this was the road he was likely to take to the Zócalo.
Meanwhile, the explosives expert was positioned high above the plaza to the west. He monitored action from the rooftop restaurant on the Portal de Mercaderes building. From his elevated vantage point, he had a bird’s-eye view of the square, which would allow him to call out possible threats via their radio earpieces. In addition, he would be able to judge the best moment to ignite his devices, using a laptop computer that sat next to his lunch. The programme on his screen was designed to look like a Sudoku puzzle. In reality the numbers corresponded with garbage cans in the plaza. He could ignite them together, in rows, or individually.
It all depended on the events below.
To keep their names off the airwaves, every member of the team was given a codename that corresponded with the role they would play. The man by the cathedral was called ‘Church’. The explosives expert was called ‘Boom’. And Tiffany was called ‘Red’. In a life-or-death mission, names didn’t have to be creative; they needed to be memorable.