She wasn't stupid. She knew she'd committed academic treason. She's forged hundreds of citations over the years. And at least a quarter of her own data — data she'd supposedly collected from all over the Maya southern lowlands — had been deliberately altered or misreported.
If the truth ever came out, others would turn a skeptical eye toward her work. Like Pacho, they'd find the discrepancies, the massaged data. And that wasn't the worst part. Worst of all, the scandal would distract the world from the very real danger of climate change. It would give ammunition to the oil-loving, anti-science zealots.
Miranda knew the case for climate change didn't rest solely on what had happened to the Classic Maya civilization. But she also knew how climate change deniers liked to twist the evidence. She knew how they thought, how they manipulated the media. If problems with her work came to light, it wouldn't just destroy her career. It would put a serious dent in the environmental movement as well.
And that was why the Library of the Mayas, as well as the rest of Xibalba, could never come to light. There was too much risk it would refute her carefully prepared conclusions. If she could've studied it in secret, she might've been able to preserve some of its knowledge. But she couldn't afford to let Emily take control of it.
Several weeks ago, she'd reached out via secret channels to the mysterious Votan. She'd offered him the Library of the Mayas under two conditions. First, he was required to spare her life. Second, he needed to melt the library down upon taking possession of it. The gold would serve as his payment and she'd never have to worry about its knowledge being used against her.
She knew she was taking an enormous risk. Votan never left anyone alive. In order to convince him to do so, she'd promised to be his eyes and ears in the archaeological world going forward.
She was less worried about him breaking the second condition. Obviously, Votan had little use for history. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been attacking archaeological digs in the first place. And while engraved plates would certainly fetch higher prices than melted gold, they'd also prove far more difficult to sell.
Swiftly, she dialed the now-familiar number and listened to the ringing noise. The line clicked.
"We're on the verge of entering the pyramid. The Library of the Mayas should be accessible within the next twenty-four hours. I'll do my best to slow the process." She quickly gave the coordinates of her position. "One more thing. I understand a certain treasure hunter named Cy Reed gave you trouble several months ago. Well, he's here with us so take all necessary precautions."
Her fingers trembled as she hung up the satphone. She stared at it for a moment. Then she looked toward the marsh. It was getting late. The cloudy sky was dark. The rain was somewhere between a drizzle and a downpour. A thick layer of foggy mist covered everything, reducing visibility by a considerable amount.
A small pang of guilt appeared in her chest. She couldn't see the others. But she knew none of them would survive the storm that was heading their way.
Chapter 78
I stared hungrily at Beverly. Shadow shrouded her face. A rare beam of early morning sunshine pierced through the tent, illuminating her twisted, curvy body.
I'd spent another sleepless night, tossing and turning. Now, I wanted her, wanted her bad. But I felt guilty about it. Hell, I wasn't even sure how'd she react. Maybe she'd kick me away, tell me to be more sensitive. After all, four lives had been lost in the last few days. And Rigoberta didn't seem too healthy at the moment.
Breathing softly, Beverly twisted toward me.
Screw that.
Life, at times, was one tragedy after another. Misfortunes, injuries, and deaths were a daily occurrence. It was tempting to bow to those things, to consume oneself in grief and guilt. But that was a mistake. Life was meant to be lived to its fullest. Mourning and grief had their places.
But the good stuff did too.
I slid into her sleeping bag. Snaked on top of her.
Her eyes opened. They glittered as she saw my hunger.
I lowered my face to hers.
Her lips parted.
I caressed her cheeks and kissed her, embracing her hungrily. Her body stirred. I felt my grief whisked away, replaced by throbbing energy. I probed her, touching her just right.
She stifled a soft moan. Her breaths came faster and faster, pulsing at an incredible rate.
I grasped her hands. Pushed myself against her.
Her soft gasps came hot and fast, scandalously so. Wavy hair cascaded around her face and she pouted her lips, frustrated but giddy with pleasure.
"Cy!" Graham shouted. "Get out here."
I clenched my eyes shut.
Go away. Please, just go away.
My lips touched her neck. My teeth nibbled on her soft skin.
Her toes curled. This time she couldn't stifle her moan.
"I'm serious." Graham's voice was closer, just outside the flap. "Either you come out or I'm coming in there."
Beverly fought off a giggle. She swung suddenly, rolling on top of me. "Don't worry," she whispered breathlessly. "He wouldn't—"
The zipper unzipped. The fabric ruffled gently. Then a gust of smoky air coursed into our tent.
"Damn it, Dutch." I shifted out from under Beverly. "What do you think you're doing?"
Graham looked at Beverly, then back at me. "Interrupting you guys, apparently."
"Leave."
"No can do."
"What's wrong?"
"The hoses have been working all night. But the marsh still hasn't drained."
I frowned. "But we sealed the aqueduct. We stopped it."
"Maybe so. But we sure didn't stop the water."
Chapter 79
"No." I shook my head. "It's not red enough."
"How much redder do you want it?" Dora asked.
"Make it bloody." I reached into a large crate and pulled out a handful of powdered juice mix packets, orange and grape flavored. When used together, they formed a reddish color. I thrust them into her hands. "Don't skimp. Use as many as you need."
I looked at Graham. He sat on the ground, studying his electric pump. "Are you almost ready?" I asked.
"Sure am. How's the water?"
"Getting redder."
"Good." He stood up, balancing uncomfortably on his artificial leg. "You sure this is going to work?"
Dye tracing was an inexact science, often used for detecting leaks, tracking natural waterways, or analyzing sewer waters. But I'd never heard of anyone doing it with juice packets before. "It had better," I replied. "Otherwise I'm wasting a lot of juice."
"We can't even be sure that concoction is going to get into the river."
"I know. Keep your fingers crossed."
I turned back to Dora. She tore open multiple packages and poured their contents into Beverly's large metal box. Then Renau used a shovel handle to stir it. The concoction turned an even more brilliant red.
"Stir it good," I told Renau. "It needs to be well-mixed."
With a loud grunt, he stirred at an even faster rate.
"And keep adding juice mix," I said to Dora. "We're going to be pumping new water in here at a fast clip."
She nodded and returned to work.
I twisted toward Graham. "Start the flow on my mark."
"Got it," he replied gruffly.
Emily, Rigoberta, Tum, and Miranda were gathered in the artificial marsh. "Get ready," I barked. "If you see even a hint of red water, holler and mark the position."
Without a word, they slogged across the marsh and took up position along the eastern edge.