“Please,” the captive begged. Tears were streaming from his eyes and there was a faint smell of fresh urine in the air.
Bones silenced him with the tape strip then rose to his full height. “That’s all he knows. Typical lightweight. No stamina. I say we strip ‘em naked and stake ‘em out.” He winked at Miranda. “That’s an old Cherokee trick.”
“I don’t think we’ll need to go that far,” Maddock said, no longer completely sure that his friend was still joking. “We’ve got their guns, and their phones and keys, too. It’ll take ‘em a while to get free, and they aren’t going to be able to come after us or call for help. I’m more worried about the guys that hired them.”
“Wait!” Angel called out. She strode forward until she was standing right in front of the man who had earlier held her at gunpoint. She regarded him coldly for a moment, then with the swiftness and fury of a rattlesnake strike, lashed out with a low kick. The man’s head snapped back, and he crumpled, unconscious. Angel turned to Maddock. “Sorry, just needed to get that out of my system.”
Maddock grinned at her, then turned to Bell. “Someone's clearly after you. Any idea who it is?”
Bell shook his head, but his eyes were darting back and forth uncertainly. “Nobody knew we were coming here.”
Maddock felt certain that Bell knew more than he was saying, but decided not to press the issue. “I’ve got an idea how we might be able to figure it out, but first we need to figure out what’s so important about that disk.” He glanced over at Bones. “Speaking of which… where is it?”
Miranda cringed a little. “I had to cut it loose.”
“Good thing, too,” Bones put in. “That was quick thinking.”
Maddock knew his old friend well enough to recognize the compliment for what it was. Bones was doing what he always did, compulsively angling for a romantic liaison with a beautiful woman he’d only just met. At some point, he would even convince himself that it was true love, that she was “the one.” It was a familiar pattern, except Maddock got the distinct feeling Miranda Bell would prove immune to Bones’ charms. And that would drive the big Cherokee crazy.
“All right,” Maddock said. “First we recover that disk. Then we figure out why it’s so important. Maybe then we’ll know why somebody thinks it’s worth killing for.”
CHAPTER 9
While assisting Charles Bell at the cenote — and saving his life — technically satisfied the terms of the favor they owed to Tam Broderick, there was never a question in Maddock’s mind about parting company with the archaeologist and his daughter. Not while they remained in danger, and certainly not while the actual significance of the discovery in the cenote was still a mystery.
After leaving the cenote, they headed back to Tulum, but remained there just long enough to drop off their rental cars and pick up a new ride, a Chevrolet Tahoe with plenty of room for the five of them and all their gear. Then, they got back on the highway and headed south, away from the resorts on the coast where, or so Maddock hoped, Bell’s as yet unidentified enemies would be looking for him. They booked a single room at a budget motel and, after checking to make sure that no one was observing them, headed inside where Bell immediately brought out the golden disk and Miranda brought out her mobile phone.
“No bars,” she grumbled.
“Can’t call your boyfriend?” Bones said, trying — and failing — to sound casual about his inquiry.
Miranda shot him one of her trademark withering glances, and turned her back on him.
“Smooth,” Angel said, shaking her head.
Maddock took a seat at the table across from Bell. “So, tell me about the City of Shadow, and why that thing is so important.”
Bell didn’t look up but continued to study the disk, moving his fingers over the glyphs engraved on its surface like a blind man reading braille. “Like most other ancient cultures, the Maya believed in an afterlife in the underworld, which they called Xibalba.”
“I’m familiar with it. It was their version of hell.”
Bell inclined his head. “There are similarities, and not just with the Biblical hell, but other ancient traditions. Egyptian, Greek, Hindu — all of them describe a place where the dead experienced horrifying torments. Xibalba means ‘place of fear.’ The best description of it is found in the Popol Vuh—”
“Pope of who?” Bones interjected.
Maddock shot him an irritated look, as did Miranda and Angel. Bones was always irreverent, but he seemed to be trying harder than usual, probably in a misguided effort to impress Miranda.
Bell took advantage of the interruption and went into full professor mode. “Popol Vuh translates to ‘The Book of the People.’ It’s a collection of mytho-historical narratives of the Kiche Maya people of Western Guatemala. Oral histories, recorded and translated by an eighteenth century Dominican friar named Francisco Ximénez. Most of what we know about the beliefs and traditions of the Maya people, we owe to him and the Popol Vuh.”
Bell paused several times as he spoke, taking rapid shallow breaths, as if simply talking was an ordeal. Maddock had noticed him wheezing and panting during the earlier hike from the cenote and suspected the man had a serious underlying health issue, but unless it put them all at risk, it was not his place to ask.
“That said, we know that Ximenez’s own beliefs and the rules imposed by the Church clearly influenced his scholarly work. He said as much in the preamble. I suspect he may have emphasized the similarities between the Maya creation myth and the Genesis account.
“The book begins with the story of how the gods created men and animals. The first versions of humanity were flawed and the gods destroyed them with a flood of resin.”
“Sounds familiar,” Bones said, then caught himself. “Wait, what? Resin?”
Bell went on without missing a beat. “The account then turns to the exploits of Xbalanque and Hunahpu, the so-called ‘Hero Twins.’ They were the sons of Hun Hunahpu, a god-figure who was defeated and sacrificed by the Lords of Xibalba in the Underworld. The twins were brought to the surface world by their mother. When they grew up, they were summoned to the Underworld by the Lords of Xibalba to play the ball game.” He paused. “Are you familiar with the Mesoamerican ball game?”
Maddock nodded. “Sort of like a cross between basketball and soccer. Knock a ball through the hoop without using your hands or feet.”
“And the losing team would get sacrificed to the gods,” Bones added.
“Or sometimes the winning team,” Bell said. “It was considered the highest honor. Every pre-Columbian culture had some version of it, and it’s an important part of the myth. The twins travel to Xibalba, surviving various trials and murder attempts by the Lords of Death along the way, to ultimately defeat the Xibalbans and get their revenge.”
Maddock nodded again. “Okay, that’s the story. What’s it got to do with that?” He pointed at the disk.
“The Popol Vuh is the primary source of information about Maya traditions, but it’s not the only one. There are temple carvings and references in the three surviving codices — actual written accounts from before the arrival of the Spaniards. The one thing all the stories — written and oral — agree on is that Xibalba is a real place.
“Understand that even the most elaborate myths may contain seeds of truth. For all its fanciful aspects, the myth of the Hero Twins is basically describing a power struggle between rival societies — one that worships the Lords of Death, and one that worships the Sun and Moon. Strip away gods and magic, and the Popol Vuh is the story of Post-Classical Maya culture rising from the ashes of a great collapse.