But it was Bell’s show, and they couldn’t rule it out without first paying a visit.
“I thought you SEALs liked getting wet,” Miranda said.
“That’s a common misunderstanding,” Bones said matter-of-factly. “It’s not that we like getting wet. We just like it wet. I mean, except for Maddock. He—”
“Aren’t you worried about another car plowing into us?” Angel interrupted.
“Not much chance of that. In rain like this, everybody stops.” Maddock hoped that was true. They hadn’t seen much traffic on the road to begin with. Honduras was one of the poorest countries in Latin America, and a recent coup d’etat had only made things worse. The road was in terrible shape, the pavement crumbling and riddled with pot holes that resembled mini-cenotes. Only a madman would risk driving the roads under such conditions.
Then again, it was Latin America, where insanity was a prerequisite for getting hired as a bus driver.
“It will probably slack off in a few minutes,” he said, hopefully.
A buzzing sound signaled an incoming text message, which was a bit of a surprise since mobile coverage had been spotty at best since leaving the major city of San Pedro Sula more than three hours earlier. He took out his phone, but before he could check the message, Angel reached over and plucked it from his grasp.
“Hey!”
“No texting while driving,” she said, with a good-natured grin.
“I wouldn’t exactly call this driving,” he replied, but she ignored him and checked the message.
“It's from Jimmy. He's says the Model 686 was purchased in Manassas, Virginia by a Samuel Jones.”
Jimmy Letson was a reporter with the Washington Post, and a master of ferreting out information, particularly electronic records that weren’t exactly freely available. Maddock had called him before leaving Chichén Itzá to have him explore some alternative theories about the location of the City of Shadow, but he had also asked his friend to run down the guns they had taken from the men who had tried to attack them at the cenote. It was a slim lead, but maybe it would help them identify the mastermind of the Serpent Brotherhood.
The Model 686, much to Bones’ chagrin, was now buried at a randomly chosen spot in the Yucatan rainforest, along with the other guns. Because they were flying commercial, transporting guns across international borders, especially with no documentation to prove their ownership, was out of the question.
“Sam Jones?” Maddock said, a little disappointed. It sounded like an alias, which meant the guns were probably another dead end. “Ask him if he knows anything else.”
Angel typed in the question, then read the reply which followed almost immediately. “He says, ‘If I knew more I would tell you more.’”
“Good old Jimmy,” Maddock said. “He’s such a people person.”
“It’s because he spends all his time with computers,” Bones said. “He lost all his people skills.”
“You’re one to talk about people skills,” Miranda said with a snort.
“Oh, I’ve got skills,” Bones averred. “Not people in general, though. Just with the babes.”
Angel turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Excuse me, but how many women have dumped you in the last few years?”
“No one dumps me,” Bones said, his tone solemn and inscrutable. “I just move on with my life while they’re catching up.”
“Ass,” Angel said.
“Seconded,” Miranda put in.
The rain seemed to be slacking off, so Maddock put the car in gear and started forward. “Start looking for the turn-off,” he said. “We should be close.”
A few minutes later, they reached the spot where the GPS unit said they should turn south to reach the ruins, but the way was blocked by a large black SUV with a bar of emergency flashers on its roof and the words “POLICIA NACIONAL” emblazoned on the fenders.
“Uh, oh,” Bones said. “Hope you brought extra cash for the bribes.”
As Maddock brought the rental to a stop, nose-to-nose with the police vehicle, two men got out. Both wore black fatigues, replete with tactical vests, and carried assault rifles. The men looked more like soldiers than police officers. One of them approached while the other remained at a distance, his weapon at the low ready.
Maddock rolled down the window and addressed the man in Spanish. “Is there a problem, officer? We wanted to visit the Copán Ruins.”
“The site is closed.”
Maddock translated for Angel’s benefit; everyone else in the group spoke Spanish, though Bones liked to say that he only knew enough to ask how to find beer, bathrooms, and brothels.
“Not according to TripAdvisor,” Bones remarked. “Wonder why they didn’t just put up a sign?”
“Do you know how long it will be closed?” Maddock asked. “We’ve come a long way just to see—”
“Indefinitely,” the policeman said.
“Is it the rain?” Angel asked.
Maddock knew it wasn’t but decided to ask anyway.
“Biological reasons,” the policeman said, this time with a note of finality. “You have to leave, now.”
Maddock offered a half-assed salute and put the car in gear, backing away.
“Biological my ass,” Bones muttered. “They’re hiding something. You think the Serpent Brotherhood figured out we were heading here?”
Maddock withheld comment until he had completed a three-point turn and was heading back down the rain-drenched highway. “I think we should find out.” He tilted the mirror so he could look Bones in the eye. “You up for a little sneak and peek?”
“You know it, brother.”
“Are you sure it’s worth the trouble?” Miranda asked. “Coming here was always a long shot anyway. And what if that policeman was telling the truth? What if there some kind of contagion in there?”
Maddock tapped the brakes, stopping once more in the middle of the road, and turned to Angel. “You guys head back to the last town we passed. Santa Rita, I think it was called. Hang out for a while. Get some lunch. I’ll try to call, but if we can’t get a signal, you’ll need to come back here to pick us up. Give us three hours.”
“Copán Ruinas is closer,” Bell pointed out, referring to the modern resort city on the edge of the archaeological site, just a couple miles further down the highway in the other direction.
Maddock shook his head. “That would mean driving past the watchdogs a couple more times, and I’d prefer not to remind them we were here.”
“And if you’re not here when we get back,” Angel said, “how long should we wait?”
“Don’t wait. Get away as fast as you can.” He saw the concern in her eyes and offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll be here.”
He got out and found Bones already waiting for him. “You know, Maddock, if there really is something biological going on out here and you get me infected… ” He shook his head. “All I can say is, I'd better get a hot nurse out of the deal.”
Maddock chuckled. “No promises.”
Once they were moving through the woods, Bones was strictly business. Neither man said a word; all communication between them was done with hand signals, though even those were mostly unnecessary.
The rain had turned the ground into soup, slowing them almost to a crawl, and the persistent drizzle sapped the heat from their bodies despite the tropical climate, but neither man complained. They had both been through a lot worse.