Boom stared at the plaza below. Despite the lingering cloud of smoke, he’d only used half his homemade arsenal. More than a dozen devices remained in the rubbish bins to the west and south — devices that could possibly be traced back to him. Just to be safe, he decided to ignite them, too. From his perch, he pressed a few keys on his computer.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
One after another, garbage cans to the south erupted in smoke.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
So did all the cans to the west.
Angel heard the explosions and quickly veered to the east. Daniela bounced on his shoulder as he continued to run. He had no idea where he was going, but he wouldn’t stop running until he saw the street. And he wouldn’t stop searching until he got revenge.
Boom glanced at his watch and smiled. He lived for moments like this.
Four seconds until the firecracker.
The thunder. The fire. The destruction.
Then three seconds.
The plaza would never be the same.
And two seconds.
His grin widened.
Then one.
He whispered a single word: ‘Boom.’
40
Payne had many talents, but getting secrets from the dead wasn’t one of them. He figured that was more Maria’s field than his. In fact, their two areas of expertise couldn’t be more different. He was great at finding live people and making them dead. She was great at finding dead people and making their pasts come alive. No wonder they argued about everything.
Putting their differences aside, Payne called Maria and told her he had found something in the Hummer that she needed to see. She wanted to know what it was, but he refused to tell her over the phone. He simply said it was significant and she needed to trust him. She sighed in protest but said she’d be there shortly.
Five minutes later, she arrived with Jones.
‘I hope this is important,’ she said. ‘We were making progress in there. We were talking to a tour guide who vaguely remembers Hamilton.’
Payne was hoping for more. ‘And?’
Jones shook his head. ‘That’s pretty much it.’
‘Wow!’ he said sarcastically. ‘Sorry I pulled you away from that. It sounds like you cracked this case wide open. Maybe we can get a sketch artist to do a drawing. Oh, wait! We already know what Hamilton looks like.’
She smiled, knowing she couldn’t argue the point. ‘Which means you found something better?’
He held up the manila envelope. ‘It’s the document Hamilton went to retrieve when he disappeared. At least I think it is. It was in the Hummer.’
‘Where?’ Jones asked.
‘Between the two crates. It was wedged in there pretty good.’
She pointed at it. ‘What does it say?’
‘I don’t know. It’s written in Spanish. But I think I know who wrote it.’
‘Who?’ she demanded.
‘A Franciscan named Diego de Landa.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Of course I’m serious. I wouldn’t have called you as a joke.’ He handed her the envelope. As he did, he shook his head. ‘You gotta start trusting me more.’
She pulled out the packet and stared at the name on the title page: ‘Diego de Landa’. The possibilities gave her chills. ‘You’re right, I do. I need to start trusting you more. And you’re right about this, too. This is much more important than what we were doing.’
‘I know. That’s why I called.’
She pointed at the Hummer. ‘May I read this inside? I’d like to take some notes as I translate.’
‘The engine’s running and the AC’s on. Be my guest.’
She walked around the front of the H2 and climbed into the passenger seat. Jones waited until she had closed the door before turning his attention to Payne.
‘Thanks for that. She’s pretty excited.’
‘No problem. I’m trying to play nice.’
‘I know and I appreciate it.’
Payne nodded but said nothing.
‘So,’ Jones said as he lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘can I ask you a personal question? You know, confidential. Just between us.’
‘Of course you can. What’s up?’
Jones made sure Maria wasn’t listening before he spoke again. ‘Who in the hell is Diego de Landa?’
Payne grinned. ‘You mean you don’t know?’
‘Well,’ he stammered, ‘the name is vaguely familiar, but I can’t really spout a bunch of facts off the top of my head.’
‘In other words, you have no idea.’
‘Absolutely none.’
‘Don’t worry. I had to run a search myself. I thought he might be a local gunrunner. Turns out he’s a dead bishop from Spain.’
‘Wow! Your hunch was way off.’
‘I know. Thank God for Google.’
Jones laughed. ‘So, what does a dead bishop have to do with Hamilton? Did they know each other?’
‘If they did, we’ve stumbled across something significant. Landa died in the 1500s.’
‘In that case, I’ll go out on a limb. I doubt they ever met.’
‘Probably not.’
‘Then what’s the connection?’
Payne summarized what he had read online. ‘Landa came to Mexico as a Franciscan monk in 1549. His job was to teach the natives about the Church and to convert them to Christianity. While he was here, he studied the Mayan language and wrote a detailed account of their culture. To this day, it is still considered the most important book ever written about the Maya.’
‘Landa was a scholar?’
Payne shook his head. ‘He was a Nazi.’
‘A Nazi? In what way?’
‘He organized the largest book-burning ceremony in the history of Mexico. If an object had anything to do with the Maya — images, idols, codices, whatever — he tossed it into the flames.’
Jones grimaced. ‘Was it an auto-da-fé?’
He nodded. ‘You’ve heard of it?’
‘Not the one you’re referring to, but I’m familiar with the ritual. It was popular during the Spanish Inquisition. They did it all the time. It means “act of faith”.’
‘Maybe so, but I guess Landa’s ceremony was particularly vicious. When word got back to the King of Spain, Landa was ordered to return home to defend himself.’
According to historical records, Landa was accused of extreme cruelty and mistreatment of the Maya, including the torture of men, women and children. Worst of all, he claimed he did it in the name of God. When asked about the auto-da-fé of Maní, which occurred in July 1562, he laughed it off, saying:
‘We found a great number of books, and since they contained nothing but falsehoods and superstitions of the devil, we burned them all. The Maya took this most grievously. It gave them great pain.’
The Council of the Indies condemned Landa for his behaviour. As a result, a committee of doctors was appointed to investigate his alleged crimes. Despite first-hand testimony from Francisco de Toral, the first bishop of the Yucatán, who had filed the original complaint with the king, Landa was absolved of the charges. Then, in an unexpected move, Landa was named as the bishop’s replacement when Toral died in 1571. Somehow, in a span of less than ten years, Landa went from a prisoner who had been banished from the New World to the most powerful man in the Yucatán. Upon his return, Landa continued his brutal campaign against the Maya, drawing the ire of natives, monks and Spanish soldiers because of his excessive cruelty.
This continued until his death in 1579.
Jones shook his head in disgust. ‘Landa was allowed to return?’
Payne nodded. ‘But no one knows why. According to the article that I read, records of that particular decision are missing from the archives.’