‘The energy source was Maria’s.’
‘If that’s true, then why hasn’t she spoken through you again? It’s been days since the last communication. I can’t hang around this town the rest of my life. You’ve succeeded in freaking me out to the point where I’m seriously considering an abortion.’
‘Choose that route, and you not only condemn Michael, but humanity’s future as well.’
‘So says you. I need real answers, Evelyn, not riddles.’
‘Dominique, Maria senses your fear, and this is why she’s ended communication. Fear is one of humankind’s strongest negative emotions. Negative emotions create negative energy, and negative energy attracts negative spirits. Communicating with the dead is not like placing a phone call. Anyone can answer, including demons like the Abomination, who is as powerful as it is cunning. Sensing your fear, Maria felt it best to end the communication rather than tip our hand to the enemy. The success of future sessions will depend upon your ability to control your negative emotions. But first, you must fully commit to the journey.’
‘Again with the journey. What journey? How can I commit myself to something I don’t even understand?’
‘You do it by acquiring knowledge. Study the Mayan Popol Vuh. Familiarize yourself with its story of Creation. Seek answers from those you trust.’
‘That’s just it, I don’t trust anyone. I’ve never felt so scared and alone in my life.’
‘Julius and Maria felt the same way when they began their own journey, and I’m sure Michael shared these feelings. At times they lost sight of the path, and yet they continued on, their resolve strengthened by faith, knowing they were following their destiny.’
‘What would Mick do if he were me?’
‘He would seek answers from those who know. He would return to the land of the green lightning.’
Dominique turns into the entrance of Chichen Itza. To her surprise, the parking lot is deserted, the front gates sealed, guarded by a platoon of heavily armed American soldiers.
Captain Luke Magierski leaves his station and approaches, his hands resting on his M-16. ‘Sorry, miss, Chichen Itza’s closed.’
‘Actually, I was looking for the local vendors who used to sell inside the park.’
Magierski stares at the attractive woman with the long ebony hair and high cheekbones, her looks vaguely familiar. ‘They’ve set up shop on the grounds of the Mayaland Hotel. It’s about ten minutes from here.’ The soldier removes an identity scanner from his belt. ‘I need to scan you, it’s standard procedure.’
‘Of course.’ She extends her left hand out the window.
Magierski’s device snaps Dominique’s digital photo as it scans her open palm.
SMITH, ANDREA M.
RESIDENCE: WELLINGTON, FLORIDA.
NO OUTSTANDING WARRANTS.
‘Thank you, Miss Smith. You have a nice day now.’
She waves, then drives off.
Magierski stares at the photo. Wait a second, I have seen her before. Removing his Palm Pilot, he scans his old e-mails. Locates the People-First. com website. Checks the photo against the one posted. Holy crap, it’s her!
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, he e-mails the photo of Andrea Smith to the political party of Peter Mabus.
Dominique pulls into the grand entrance of the Mayaland Hotel and parks. A farmers’ market has been set up across from the parking lot, allowing the local villagers to sell their wares to tourists.
She scans the tables, counting fewer than a dozen visitors among the vendors. The park’s closing’s hurting everyone. Approaching the first booth, she is immediately swarmed upon by children, all pulling at her skirt in an attempt to lure her to their table.
‘Jade necklace, senorita? Only ten dollars, American.’
‘Come, senorita, we have beautiful rings. Five dollars.’
‘ Senorita, you must buy a silk hammock. We give you a very good price, eh?’
‘Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll buy from the first person who can tell me where I can find the elder known as Ocela.’
The children back away. ‘Don’t know this person, senorita. Maybe you should go, eh?’
The children abandon Dominique for a Canadian couple and their teenage daughter. ‘Bandanna, senor? Two dollar.’
Captain Magierski stares at his Palm Pilot as if he’s just hit the lottery.
SUBJECT VERIFICATION CONFIRMED. ONE MILLION WILL BE WIRED UPON PROOF OF VAZQUEZ CAPTURE, BALANCE DELIVERED WHEN TEAM ARRIVES THIS EVENING. DISCUSS THIS WITH NO ONE. CONGRATULATIONS AND THANK YOU FOR SERVING YOUR COUNTRY.
Dominique moves from table to table, stopping occasionally to check out an obsidian letter opener or an ornamental jaguar. ‘Excuse me? How much?’
‘Thirty dollars, senorita. For you, twenty-three.’
‘I’m looking for a man named Ocela.’
Eyes avert. ‘No man by that name here, senorita.’
She looks up as an Army jeep enters the Mayaland parking lot, its tires skidding across gravel as it comes to a stop, blocking Dominique’s rental car.
Captain Magierski scans the tables using a finger-size telescopic lens.
Dominique ducks behind a shelf stacked with wool Mexican blankets, her heart racing as she peeks out at the soldier. Something’s wrong, he’s definitely after me. Where the hell are those Homeland Security guys when you need them?
Magierski jumps down from the jeep, striding toward the marketplace.
‘Psst! Over here!’
Dominique turns. A curly-haired Mayan man motions at her from behind a fruit stand.
‘Come quickly!’
‘I know you, don’t I?’
‘Elias Forma, I’m a friend of Mick’s. You were at my home. Quickly-’
Magierski pushes through a throng of children, moving from table to table. ‘The American woman, where is she?’
Elias Forma shrugs. ‘No habla ingles.’
‘Maybe you habla this.’ Magierski raises his M-16, pushing the barrel of the gun into the Mayan’s face. ‘Now where’s the goddam girl?’
Elias says nothing, his dark eyes returning the soldier’s glare as the other Mayans crowd around them, whispering.
Magierski grabs Elias by his shirt collar and drags the vendor out from behind the fruit stand, tossing him to the ground. Cocking his weapon, he fires a circle of bullets around the terrified local. ‘Listen up, Dominique Vazquez, you either come out now or I’ll blow his fucking head off!’
‘Hold it!’ Dominique climbs down from the slanted roof of the fruit stand. She approaches the soldier, her hands out at her sides, her blouse unbuttoned to her navel. ‘All you had to do was ask.’
Magierski’s heart pounds faster as he stares at her tantalizing cleavage.
Dominique winks. ‘I’m into handcuffs. Do you have any?’
‘Definitely.’ He removes the shackles from his belt, snapping them around her offered wrists. ‘Looks like you and me are gonna spend a few hours alone together.’
‘Sounds like fun. Think maybe we can get a room at the hotel? I’m hot, and I want to get out of these sweaty clothes. If you’re good, I’ll let you handcuff me to the bed.’
Magierski smiles. ‘Tell you what, how about if I-’
Whomp! Dominique’s right foot snaps off the ground like a cobra, the tip of her shoe driving high into the man’s groin. As the soldier drops to his knees, the ball of her left foot smashes into Magierski’s face, snapping his head back.
The soldier collapses in a heap.
Elias searches Magierski’s belt for the handcuff keys. He tosses them at Dominique as three Mayan vendors drag the unconscious soldier’s body into the high grass.
A dozen more push the jeep off the side of the road and into a ditch.
Salt Lake City, Utah
Peter Mabus lies back in the dressing room chair, allowing his makeup man to finish dabbing at the dark circles beneath his eyes.
A knock and the dressing room door opens. Joseph Randolph enters, followed by a slight, gray-haired Caucasian in his late sixties. The nerdy-looking man wears wire-rimmed glasses and is dressed in a wool suit and black bow tie.