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“Well,” said Sam. “Obviously, we’re not selling her anything. Where do you think we should go from here?”

“We should do something about my colleagues. I need to know who is honest and who isn’t. I’d like to tell each of the people I’ve told about the codex a different lie about what’s in the rest of it and see which lie Sarah Allersby acts on.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” said Remi. “When we asked about her sources, she wouldn’t answer. I’m sure she’ll be expecting us to try to find out.”

“What we’ve got to do is try to pursue two paths at once,” Caine said.

“What are the two paths?” Sam asked.

“The codex has to be examined, transcribed, and translated. We have to know what it says.”

“That’s hard to argue with,” said Remi.

“The other line of inquiry is a bit trickier. At some point, we’ve got to find out whether the codex is fiction or a description of the world as it was in those days. The only way to do it is to go down to Central America and verify that what it says is true and accurate.”

“You mean to visit one of the sites it describes?” asked Sam.

“I’m afraid so,” Caine said. “I had been hoping to lead a scientific expedition to one of the sites that is mentioned only in this codex. But we’re two weeks into the spring quarter, with nine more weeks to go. I can’t leave my classes now. And it takes time to get a big expedition together. With Sarah Allersby involved, time is scarce. The longer we wait, the more difficult she’ll make it. She’s capable of getting people set up to follow any expedition we organize, getting us arrested, doing anything to get us to sell the codex or make sure we can’t have access to it.”

“We’ll be the expedition,” Remi said. “Sam and me.”

“What?” said Sam. “I thought you didn’t want to travel for a while.”

“You heard him, Sam. There are two things that have to be done. Neither of us knows how to read the eight hundred sixty-one glyphs in the Mayan writing system, and we don’t know the underlying language. What’s it called?”

“Ch’olan,” said Caine.

“Right,” she said. “Ch’olan. How’s your Ch’olan?”

“I see what you mean,” Sam said. “Dave, see if you can find a site that fits the criteria — mentioned only in this codex, never explored, and small enough that we don’t need a big group that will attract attention. I’d like to slip in there, find it, and get out.”

Chapter 9

LA JOLLA

Early the next morning, Sam, Remi, and Zoltán arrived at the house above Goldfish Point before the electricians and carpenters, who were still working on the fourth floor. As they started up the walk, Selma opened the front door and came out to meet them. She put her hands on her hips. “The police just left.”

Remi said, “So we had visitors last night?”

“Yes,” said Selma. “The burglars tried the front doors but couldn’t get them to budge. Banging on them and trying to jimmy the latches caused the steel shutters on the first and second floors to come down automatically. The silent alarm from the outdoor surveillance cameras and motion sensors had already alerted the police. The cameras got only the images of two figures dressed in black with ski masks.”

“Were you hoping to see their best work?” Remi asked.

“No,” Sam said. “But I’m wondering if they might not have suspected in advance that this place wasn’t going to be easy.”

“Oh?” said Selma. “That implies that they’d been here before.”

Sam shrugged. “If I were to guess, I’d say that you probably served them tea yesterday. I don’t mean Sarah Allersby came back with a crowbar. I mean that she just may have read us wrong — thought that if someone showed us that it’s dangerous to have a valuable artifact around, then we’d jump at her offer.”

“One more thing,” said Selma. “Dave Caine left a message on the house phone last night. He wants to meet with you this morning about your next little trip.”

Two hours later, they were in the climate-controlled room with David Caine. They stood around the worktable, comparing the map in the codex with a topographic map on a computer screen. Caine placed a small arrow pointing to a spot in the jungle. “This site meets our criteria. It’s not included in any inventory of known Mayan sites. It isn’t large enough to be a major city. It has the advantage of being in an area of the Guatemalan highlands that’s sparsely populated and remote.”

“What do you think it is?” asked Remi.

“The glyphs say it’s a sacred pool. I believe it’s a cenote — a hole in the underlying limestone bedrock caused by the action of water.”

“Like a sinkhole?”

“Exactly. Water was an extremely precious commodity to the Mayans, and it became more so in the late classic period. You would think water would be plentiful on the floor of a jungle, but it isn’t. And after the Mayans had cut and burned miles of trees to clear fields for agriculture, the climate got hotter and drier. During the late period, many cities depended heavily on cenotes as a water source. We’ve even found man-made cisterns they dug and plastered at El Mirador that were imitation cenotes, with artificial streams leading to them for catching water.”

Sam said, “You want us to look for a pool of water?”

“Cenotes were more than that. They were doorways to the underworld. Chac, the god of rain and weather, lived down there, among other places. You have to understand that these were people who believed that what they did kept the universe operating correctly. If you wanted rain, you would throw sacrifices into a cenote where the gods would get them.”

“And this is the best site?”

“There are new cities on this map. Either they’re imaginary or lost, we don’t know which. But you can’t go down there with a huge crew and try to excavate or even map a city without months of preparation. And if you did, it would compromise the site and expose it to looters. A cenote can be hidden or overgrown, but it’s something you can verify without attracting too much attention. There. I’ve just given you all the reasons why it’s a good choice.”

Remi said, “I sense there are reasons why it’s not.”

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s near a vast piece of land owned by a foreign landlord. It’s called the Estancia Guerrero.”

“Sarah Allersby?” said Remi.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s an unfortunate coincidence. But anywhere in Guatemala, we would be on or near one of these big estates. They occupy hundreds of square miles, much of it uncultivated.”

“Maybe not so unfortunate,” said Sam. “While she’s trying to get her hands on the codex, she won’t be on her land, causing trouble for us.”

“I doubt that she spends much time on the land, in any case. She leads a very active social, political, and business life in Guatemala City.”

“Sounds good,” said Sam. “While we’re gone and you’re working on the codex, we’ll keep in touch. Selma and her assistants, Pete and Wendy, are ready to offer you as much help as you’d like. Selma you already know. Pete and Wendy are young, but both have plenty of history and archaeology experience.”

Caine looked down at the codex on the table. “Selma told me about the burglary.”

“It hardly deserves that name,” Sam said.

“I’m wondering if it’s safe to keep the codex here while you’re out of the country.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” asked Remi.

“I was wondering if you’d let me look into the possibility of keeping the codex on campus.”

“Normally, there wouldn’t be a problem with keeping it at our house,” said Remi. “But there’s still remodeling going on upstairs, with workmen coming and going all day, and now Sarah Allersby and her amateur burglars know where the codex is…” She paused. “Would the university be safer?”