The ruins were only a couple hundred yards from the road, in a clearing on the valley floor where the ancient inhabitants of the region had first settled nearly three thousand years before. From the edge of the trees, Maddock could see several man-made structures. There were a few buildings, crumbling truncated pyramids, worn down by the passage of time, but nothing on the scale of what they had seen at Chichén Itzá. Copán’s claim to fame was not its architecture but its art, specifically hundreds of stelae — carved stone monuments sculpted with relief figures and glyphs that told the history of the Maya city. The stelae at Copán were considered to be the best examples of pre-Columbian high-relief sculpture and unique among the Maya, who were known primarily for bas relief carvings, like the blocks on the altar in the cenote back in the Yucatan.
If there was a clue to the location of the City of Shadow, it was probably carved into one of the stelae, but examining them would have to wait. It wasn’t just a matter of time, though that was certainly a factor. It would take days to properly examine all the stone markers. No, the problem was that somebody else had beaten them to it.
More than a dozen men in full military-style gear, armed with M16A2 rifles, were roaming the edge of the site. Maddock guessed they were policemen like the men blocking the road, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were acting in an official capacity. In Honduras, as in much of the developing world, police and military troops were often available for rent to the highest bidder.
The real work, however, was going on inside the secure perimeter. Men and women — at least twenty, but possibly twice that many — were spread out across the grounds, examining and photographing every stelae, brick structure and interesting looking rock on the valley floor. They might have been archaeologists, conducting a comprehensive survey after closing the site to the public. In fact, that explanation made the most sense, except for one thing.
Maddock leaned close to Bones. “Are you not seeing what I’m not seeing?”
“If you mean hot nurses… ”
“I mean HAZMAT suits. Whatever’s going on here, it’s not a disease outbreak or anything like that. Why circulate a bogus story about a biological hazard?”
“Think they’ll tell us if we ask nicely?”
Maddock knew the question was rhetorical, but shook his head anyway. “Let’s try to get closer.”
They moved out, skirting the clearing on the south side of the site, furthest from the access road and the bulk of the armed men. The hike from the road had left both men covered in mud, natural camouflage which, in tandem with the persistent drizzle, hid their approach from the none-too-vigilant lookouts. Maddock and Bones low-crawled out to one of pyramids, scaling it to get a better view of what was going on.
The people conducting the survey looked like they might be college students. There was an even mixture of male and female, all wearing upscale casual attire that looked like it might have come from Urban Outfitters or Eddie Bauer. The group was racially diverse as well, which suggested they were not locals, but none of them were speaking loud enough for Maddock to determine nationality.
Maddock took out his phone, intending to snap a few pictures of the workers on the off chance that Jimmy Letson might be able to work some magic with facial recognition software, but before he could clear enough grime from his fingers to operate the touch screen, Bones hissed softly, warning him to freeze.
A small group — three men and a woman — had just exited a nearby structure. Two of the men were wearing dark polo shirts emblazoned with some kind of official logo — park employees, Maddock guessed. The other man was a hulking figure with buzz-cut blond hair and a bearing that advertised ex-military. The woman had the olive complexion of a Latin American, but with red hair and freckles. There seemed little doubt that she was the one in charge.
“I’m sorry,” one of the park employees was saying in Spanish. “But there isn’t anything else.”
“Something you don’t tell the tourists about?
“You have seen everything. There may be other structures in the forest, but we have used ground-penetrating radar to map the entire site. There are no buried structures. No tunnels or secret passages.”
“What about stelae that have not been cataloged? Or artifacts that you’ve sold on the black market? Do you have photographs of them?”
The park employee appeared to take great offense at the accusation. “I would never get involved with criminals.”
The woman cast a dubious glance his way. “I’m not interested in your illicit activities. I just need to know if anything has been found here that relates to the City of Shadow.”
The man choked back laughter. “The City of Shadow? You might as well ask me about chupacabra or el Cadejo.”
The woman flicked her head in the direction of her large companion, and the latter struck like a bolt of lightning, burying his fist in the other man’s gut.
Even as the flippant park worker went to his knees, doubling over and gasping, the woman whipped a pistol out from under her coat and aimed it at the forehead of the second Honduran.
The man’s eyes went wide with terror. “You have to believe us. The City of Shadow is a myth. No one believes it. Just the campesinos, but they are superstitious fools.”
The woman thumbed back the hammer of her weapon. “I believe it,” she hissed. “Am I a fool?”
From his perch, some fifty feet away, Maddock detected the distinctive smell of urine in the damp air. One of the park employees had just wet himself. With painstaking slowness, Maddock raised his phone, pointed it at the woman, and took her picture.
“Please,” the man begged. “There is nothing here about the City of Shadow. If there was, I would tell you.”
“But you have heard of it. Tell me what you know.”
“Just the story. My grandmother told it. How the shadow of the death lords threatened to engulf the world, until the gods hid the city from mortal eyes.”
“And Copán? It is the beginning of the Serpent Road that leads to the city?”
The man blinked at her in confusion. “The City of Shadow isn’t a real place. That's all I know, I swear.”
The woman nodded and then slowly eased the hammer down. The man sagged in relief, but instead of lowering the weapon, the woman swiped it sideways, striking him in the temple.
“What now?” asked Buzz-Cut.
The woman stared out across the site for several seconds before answering. “This was a waste of time. There’s nothing here.” She holstered the pistol, trading it for a walkie-talkie which she held up to her mouth. “Wrap it up,” she said, switching to English. “We leave in ten minutes.”
As the two walked away, Bones sidled up to Maddock. “Thinks she’s a Serpent Sister?” he whispered.
“Don’t know,” Maddock admitted. “The Serpent Brothers seemed kind of low-rent compared to these guys. Whoever she is, she must have a lot of clout with the government to shut down the site at a moment’s notice.”
“Money talks. Especially foreign money. That big guy sounded American. Looks kind of like an ex-jarhead, too.”
Maddock nodded. “Probably a private security contractor. No telling who holds the purse strings, or why are they suddenly interested in the City of Shadow.”
“And right when we’re looking for it. Coincidence much? You think someone found out we were coming here?” When Maddock didn’t comment, Bones went on. “Wanna try grabbing one of these guys? Maybe get some answers?”
“We’re outnumbered and outgunned. It’s not worth the risk. Let’s head back.”
“These guys are gonna be gone soon. We’ll have the place to ourselves and we’ve got plenty of time. Might as well have a look around, right?”