The Mayan Priest

By Sue Guillou

A TREACHEROUS QUEST

When her friends become trapped in an ancient room supported by a fifteen hundred year old rope, archaeologist Gillian Bright knows their time is limited. The rope could break at any moment plummeting them to their deaths and she is the only one with the skills needed to save them.
AN ANCIENT RIDDLE

With the assistance of Adam Housner, an Australian school teacher, Gillian discovers that the trap is merely one component of a series of elaborate puzzles. Devised by a Mayan priest called Kinix to protect an ancient secret, Gillian and Adam must travel to various Mayan sites in an attempt to decipher his mysteries. What follows is a journey of terror, adventure and thrilling exploits as they race against time to discover the key to freeing her friends
A MALICIOUS ADVERSARY

Arun Keane, the leader of a mysterious sect, is fuelled by a desperate desire for treasure. He’ll do anything necessary to extend his collection of riches and he desperately wants whatever Kinix is hiding. He uses his extensive network of assassins, numerous funds and illicit connections to try and stop Gillian and her team from getting it before he does.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sue Guillou
• Release date: May 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458182807

Sue Guillou

Born in 1970 in Melbourne, Victoria, Sue Guillou spent her early years combining school with travel. Her family has seen New Zealand, extensively travelled Australia and lived in Papua New Guinea for a period of three years. Her first job out of school was in the Insurance Industry which has developed into a career interrupted only by a short stint as a business owner between 2002 and 2006. Sue has three children and spends most of her spare time combining her son’s hobby of Go-Karting with writing.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Gillian frowned as she sprayed insect repellent on her tanned torso and cursed loudly when another fat, blood filled mosquito landed on her cheek. She wiped her face and looked about, noting that the streets of Guatemala were exactly as she expected. It was hot, sticky and overrun with residents competing for a meager income from the tourist trade. She grabbed hold of Fred, eager to avoid the crush of the crowd as they hurried to the waiting van driven by an old white-haired guide.

As they were the only passengers that morning, Gillian sat behind the driver, next to her fiancé Fred. She reached for Fred’s hand. He did not return her affection, so she looked at him in confusion.

Fred was an attractive man, pretty almost, with thick black hair, piercing blue eyes, chiseled chin and a lithe, well-muscled body from years at the gym. She had first thought he was shallow, too focused on his body image and how the public viewed him, but her opinion changed dramatically when she witnessed him in a pair of shorts. He had two large scars running vertically from his knee to his ankle; caused by a motorcycle accident that had nearly taken his life. The doctors had said only extensive physiotherapy and muscle building exercises would restore full use to his legs, so hence the hours at the gym.

Gillian had felt particularly small for misjudging him, and their relationship had developed from their unified love and dedication to archaeology. Unfortunately they were equally articulate, determined and very competitive, leading her to understand that he considered this dig to be another contest. She was annoyed and dropped his hand, fearing that her father’s dislike for Fred had some weight to it. He did not like Fred and openly voiced his opinion at every available opportunity, much to her vexation.

This was something she had to fix, but how? She did not know.

Gillian subconsciously moved away from Fred, wiped her auburn hair from her eyes and mopped the sweat from her brow. Fred looked equally uncomfortable in the humid climate and she knew he would have preferred the dry atmosphere of Egypt, but the discovery of a vault on the outskirts of Tikal was too much to resist.

The call had come three days ago from her friend and mentor Professor Richard Deinhart, a kindly sixty-one-year-old archaeologist with medium length gray hair, a full moustache, beard and mischievous grey eyes. He had been nicknamed ‘Santa’ by his six-year-old granddaughter Eva, but his wicked sense of humor and enjoyment of practical jokes had prevented any more association with the Christmas icon. He had been her history lecturer during her studies at the University of Houston, Texas, and was a staunch advocate of, and advisor on, the board of the Archaeological Institute of America. He was well loved and respected by all who knew him.

‘Jilly, something has come my way which I know you won’t be able to resist. It’s just your thing,’ his voiced boomed down the phone line.

‘Well, don’t keep me in suspense, professor,’ laughed Gillian. The professor’s strong but cheerful voice brought back memories of the times she’d spent poring over books with him. It had been two years since they had caught up and she missed his company.

‘A colleague of mine has spent the last few weeks excavating on the outskirts of Tikal and they have come across a vault, not unusual in itself, but the hieroglyphics indicate it belongs to someone of importance which is odd considering it’s located in the midst of the farmers’ precinct. I thought you might like to take a look.’

‘Wow, you really know the way to a girl’s heart,’ teased Gillian and heard the professor chuff in amusement.

‘It’s been a while, but I still know you well, Jilly,’ he said referring to her passion for the ancient American cultures.

‘So, when and where?’

‘I have arranged for my good friend Mitchell Coates to accompany us. If you remember, he’s an expert on hieroglyphics.’

‘Us? Who’s coming?’ queried Gillian, recalling Mitchell Coates with a smile. He was a small man, determined and set in his ways with an ageing body that defied nature. He could outrun and outwork anyone half his age, including Fred. He was Richard’s best and most loyal friend.

‘You didn’t think I’d miss out on this adventure, did you? I’ll meet you on Friday.’ He paused. ‘Bring Fred if you want,’ he added as an afterthought before hanging up the phone with a loud clunk.

‘Are you all right? It’s not like you to miss the scenery,’ nudged Fred as the small van hit a bump, forcing her sideways into Fred’s arm.

‘I was thinking about Professor Deinhart. I’m looking forward to seeing him,’ mused Gillian as their driver unexpectedly sped up, racing towards a raucous crowd of Native Americans blocking the road less than six hundred feet in front of them.

‘Hold on!’ he yelled, his accent thick and emotionless as he gave the old vehicle as much stick as it could manage. It responded faithfully, lurching forward and pelting directly into the crowd, much to Gillian’s dismay.

‘What are you doing?! You’ll hit them!’ she yelled.

‘They want your money. If we stop now they will most likely rape and murder you,’ responded the elderly man as the van picked up momentum on the downward slope. It was almost as if the crowd refused to believe that they would lose their booty and waited until the last second before moving aside. Gillian felt stupid and naïve. The Native Americans were well-practiced in the art of deception and if Fred had not insisted on using a guide, they could have been killed.

CHAPTER TWO

As they neared Tikal, Gillian cursed her decision to drive from Aurora Airport to Tikal via Flores. It took six hours longer then if they had flown, and she feared that Richard had started without them. Normally calm and collected, she was now in a minor state of panic. Her life revolved around timeliness, first imposed by her father years ago, and she was stressed when she was late.

‘We’re there.’ Fred tapped on her arm and she looked up and found herself staring directly at the Temple IV that towered over the adjacent treetops at two hundred and twenty-five feet high. Gillian gladly stretched her legs and paid the bus driver a small tip before disembarking and proceeding with enthusiasm to the ruins.

Tikal was an enigmatic place overwhelmed by an invasive, fast growing forest that added to its mystery. Indeed it looked like something from a fairytale, with the lichen covered buildings, vast green plateaus and lofty canopies that threatened to engulf the city like a spider on its prey. Gillian shivered. The city was beautiful with its monumental pyramids, ancient palaces and numerous outbuildings, but she knew they had barely scratched the surface of the treasures this metropolis offered. At one time, approximately 500 AD, Tikal spanned some eight miles and was home to 200,000 people and almost 300,000 buildings of which only a fraction had been uncovered to date. She also found it eerie to be standing on ground that was once a bustling hub of activity. Thousands of men, women and children had walked on this very soil undertaking their daily duties, and here she was many lifetimes later standing in the same spot. The feeling was akin to wandering through a long abandoned graveyard; the thought caused shivers to run up her spine.

She allowed herself the luxury of a moment to imagine the color of Tikal in its heyday. The bright Mayan costumes, the clean fresh limestone buildings towering into the hot sunny sky, the highly decorated palaces no doubt covered in jade and obsidian, fancy corbelled arches wrapped in hieroglyphics and engravings and highly painted iconology probably in the colors of their compass – white (north), red (east) yellow (south) and black (west) and green for the center of the earth.

Gillian smiled to herself in delight, her reverie broken by the screeches of the howler monkeys and a familiar looking figure walking towards her – Professor Richard Deinhart.

‘Professor!’ she cried unashamedly as she raced towards her friend and jumped into his arms.

‘You haven’t changed much,’ said Richard, his Irish accent thick with joy as he gave Gillian a peck on the cheek. Richard was born and raised in Ireland until the age of fifteen when his parents immigrated to America. He had been an American citizen for forty-three years, but he still carried his heritage with pride.

‘I know, but I do have a new appendage,’ she teased, referring to Fred who scowled at her attempt at good humor.

‘I’ve heard. Nice to meet you, Fred,’ said Richard, offering his hand in greeting.

Gillian noticed the two men sizing each other up. Fred had a smile of ‘you might know a lot, but you’re old’ and Richard’s eyes reflected ‘ah, another young whippersnapper who wants to be like me’. Gillian grinned.

‘So, where from here, professor?’

‘We’re headed about 300 feet past what is known as the Plaza of the Lost World. It is one of the earliest occupied sites at Tikal, having been built somewhere during the Middle Pre-Classic period around 500 BC. My young friend has discovered the ruins of a farmer’s building,’ said Richard as they made their way down the Miler Causeway, through the Great Plaza and Central Acropolis before heading past Temple V built around 750 AD.

‘What’s strange about that? I’m sure there are thousands of them,’ mocked Fred, pausing to take a couple of photos of the ancient buildings on their way past.

‘The most common buildings were made of wooden poles, thatch and limestone slabs, but this one is entirely of limestone in the shape of a pentagon. It is most unusual, something so unique that we took the trouble to excavate the inner courtyard,’ replied Richard, ignoring Fred’s comments.

Gillian took Fred’s hand and squeezed it gently. She knew Fred was feeling uncomfortable in Richard’s company. The professor had a manner about him that reeked of intelligence and this threatened Fred. Fred squeezed back and smiled at her.

‘Can you imagine our surprise when we discovered a slab in the courtyard which is most unusual considering courtyards are usually dirt. But then when we removed part of that slab, we found another one underneath; identical and built at the same time. Someone had obviously taken great pains to carry out concealment. Mitchell found this imbedded in the very centre of the base foundation,’ said Richard as he opened his palm to reveal a pentagonal shaped tile about the size of a fifty cent piece with a logogram engraved in the centre.

‘I know that symbol. It stands for holy,’ said Fred excitedly.

‘Yes, usually representing a holy place or person, so I wonder what it was doing in the middle of a commoner’s home,’ mused Gillian as she viewed the ancient tile with much thought.

‘That’s why I’ve asked you to join us. When we removed this small tile, a greater tablet was found behind it. The tablet was sitting above a large stone block, which we have shifted, albeit with great difficulty. It has revealed a set of stairs leading almost vertically underground. We are yet to venture into the unknown, keen to ensure that we have correctly deciphered the tablet first,’ said Richard.

With that Gillian laughed aloud, unable to contain her amusement. ‘Don’t tell me that you have waited for me to decipher the hieroglyphics for you. You are the professor – my professor. The person who taught me what I know. Why ask me?’

‘Because you have far exceeded my own miserly skills, my dear. Even I know that,’ replied Richard with a chuckle as Fred just looked on, a nonchalant gaze flickering across his eyes.

‘Come on, let me introduce you to the team,’ grinned Richard as he marched them pass the Plaza of the Seven Temples which dated back to the Pre-Classic period and contained three ball game areas and the unexcavated Southern Acropolis.

They veered left and headed out beyond the Lost World Pyramid and into the dense jungle surrounding the outskirts of the city centre, coming quickly to a roped area which they proceeded to climb under. The farmer’s home was virtually indistinguishable, having been concealed by 1500 years of dirt, vines and other unidentifiable vegetation. The limestone walls were barely standing and no roof remained. Still, Gillian could see that this house had been built with care and she found it strange that it was situated just behind the Lost World Pyramid, which had been used for rituals, although this would be in keeping if it was the home of a priest or holy man.

They passed through the remains of an arch which were engraved with examples of long-count (Mayan dates) and large drawings of Kinich Ahau (sun god), Ix Chel (moon god) and Chac (rain god) and into a partially excavated courtyard that was approximately thirty feet across from the widest points. It was a large space that would have boasted a well-tended exotic garden in its prime but was currently no more than large mounds of dirt. This saddened Gillian who always felt a sense of loss when uncovering civilizations that had succumbed to the ravages of time, but perhaps this was part of the appeal, exposing the mysteries of past lives and learning from them.

‘This is my young friend Redmond Paisley who discovered the disk,’ introduced Richard as a slight young man with wide, enthusiastic eyes quickly wiped his dirt covered hand on his shirt before greeting Gillian. She could barely conceal a grin; the name ‘Paisley’ suited his outrageously bright clothes and spotted bandana to a tee. She liked him immediately.

‘And these are my other partners in crime, both of whom you know,’ said Richard as he led her to the centre of the courtyard where Mitchell Coates and Richard’s long-time partner Julia Charters were digging. Julia was a few years younger than Richard and was the love of his life. Together they had travelled the world, sharing their passion for life and the adventures it offered. Where Gillian would have declined, Julia took up every challenge from sky to scuba diving, abseiling and long treks. She was also a strong, confident businesswoman who frequently donated her time to those less fortunate. Julia gave Gillian a kiss on the cheek and Mitchell did likewise; much to Fred’s annoyance that was evident by the scowl on his face.

‘And last but not least is Samuel Thomas, a last-minute inclusion from the Mexican government. He is representing their interests,’ said Richard with a slight lowering of his eye and barbed tone of voice that spoke volumes to Gillian. He disliked the six foot five, olive skinned man immensely and she could see why; he looked powerful and lean with black flashing eyes, buffed skin and pearl white teeth. His nails were far too neat and clean to be an archaeologist’s and he sported a missing ear, partially concealed by his long wavy hair. He had a well-groomed façade, but Gillian somehow guessed that it was just that … a façade. She suspected his nature was not as unsoiled as he appeared. Even Fred took a step back and went to join Mitchell in removing the last of the dirt that had caved in over the stairs they had uncovered.

‘So, what do you think, Jilly?’ asked Richard.

‘Well, for one thing, the dates in long count on the entrance archway indicate that this home was built somewhere around 520 AD. That puts it well before any of the more infamous temples such as the Temple of the Great Jaguar erected as a tomb for ‘Hasaw Chan Kawil’ about 700 AD. I would imagine that it belongs to a priest or shaman although I think priest is more likely,’ she responded.

‘Perhaps this hole is a chultune used to store the food and precious objects of their owners,’ suggested Richard as he knelt down and examined the stone blocks they had removed to gain access to the stairs.

‘I don’t think so,’ replied Gillian. ‘These blocks are covered in engravings of Itzamn and Ix Chel who were the deities of medicine. Priests and healers invoked them in their prayers.’

‘See? That’s why I wanted you along,’ grinned Richard as Mitchell hollered loudly.

‘Everyone! Come and look! It’s incredible!’

Julia went first, followed eagerly by Fred, then Redmond, Richard, Samuel and lastly Gillian who had been so intent on the engravings that she had barely heard the call.

The tunnel was dark, lit only by the small torches they were carrying. It descended almost vertically into the ground for twenty feet before leveling off and running in a southerly direction away from Tikal centre.

Initially the walls were plain and unadorned, but the further they ventured, evidence of the richness of Mayan life came into light. The cold air and lack of humidity had served as a preservation tool for the wonderfully rich Mayan paintings, and they paused to gaze at scenes of gods, Tikal at its peak, a royal ceremony depicting the announcement of a new heir and ancient scenery. Gillian noticed with a passing curiosity that the heir was a girl, something she had never seen before. She made a point to remember to study it on the way out.

They had walked close to a hundred feet before Mitchell came into view.

‘Took you long enough,’ he snarled, his pretence at anger producing a chuckle from Julia.

‘You always try so hard to be assertive, but you fail miserably,’ she said.

‘Familiarity produces complacency, so I’m going to have to try a new tack,’ asserted Mitchell as Julia patted him fondly on the shoulder.

‘So, what have you discovered, Mitch?’ she asked as he stepped aside and used the battery powered lantern he’d been carrying to illuminate the entire wall before him.

They all stood mouths agape at a corbelled archway built from solid jade with such precision that there was barely a visible join. On both sides of the arch was a glorious impression of a priest that had been hand carved with an exactness that was beyond comprehension. In the dark, it was almost as if you were looking at the man himself, but in reality Gillian knew he would be formed from jade, obsidian and other precious jewels.

Above the pillars in the unique stepped pattern invented by the Mayans was a distinctive arrangement of glyphs. It was supposed to be read in columns of two starting from the top to bottom. Richard began to decipher what had been carved.

‘The first few columns appear to say something like you are, then we have a picture of a shield followed by two glyphs representing the sun and moon god. After that appears further characters representing friendship and B’alam which of course means jaguar, the most revered animal in the Mayan world.’

‘So, what does it mean?’ asked Redmond in breathless, youthful enthusiasm.

‘I know,’ commented Fred with confidence as everyone shone their lights on him and waited expectantly for his explanation.

‘This is the tomb of a king. I would have thought that was conclusive considering the two uppermost gods, and the jaguar symbol commonly used by the kings are clearly evident.’

‘Well, I disagree,’ added Gillian, knowing that only the darkness shielded her from Fred’s scathing look.

‘Those life-size carvings are clearly of a priest,’ she said, gesturing to the side pillars. ‘It is evident by his clothing and simple headgear. A king would be decked in his full regalia. The hieroglyphics in my view say something like you are protected by the gods of the sun and moon. You are my friend and that of the jaguar. I think this magnificent archway was carved as a dedication to a friend and priest,’ concluded Gillian as Richard and Mitchell murmured in agreement.

‘Is there a tomb here or not?’ boomed Samuel irritably, his deep, resonating voice taking everyone by surprise. This was the first time he had spoken since Gillian and Fred were first introduced to him.

‘Of course,’ replied Gillian confidently. ‘I just don’t know how to gain access yet.’

‘Blow the bloody door. It’s not as if we’re dealing with the Egyptians and all of their fancy traps. These people were primitive,’ snarled Samuel, his expression of disregard for history sickening Gillian. She wondered how he ever got the job here.

‘You’re a real piece of work, Samuel. Can you imagine what damage you could do if you used explosives in here? Not disregarding the treasure that may lie on the other side of that panel,’ said Mitchell as Samuel grunted in reluctant concurrence.

‘I might be wrong, but I think this is what we’re looking for,’ said Julia unexpectedly as she took the lantern from Richard. She lifted it up to a fully working Calendar Round, the Mayan calendar that could calculate up to fifty-two years with two rotating cycles, one inside the other. It was fashioned from jade, was five inches across and had a pattern of inverted hieroglyphics. Right in the centre was a hexagonal shaped ruby about the size of a walnut. ‘I’ve seen many of these before but never with a stone in the middle. As the stone is clearly significant and the inscription above it means entrance, it’s my guess that this is the key,’ and with that Julia lifted her hand to press the glittering centerpiece.

Gillian momentarily scanned the hallway, taking everything in. She looked at the paintings, carvings and color, realizing that the creator of this room was not ostentatious. He had simply depicted Mayan life as best as he could, dedicating his work to his friend. It was unclear if this passageway had been created before or after the death of the priest, but either way the only jewels used had been to embellish the priest’s image. It was totally out of keeping having a jewel of such large proportions imbedded in the Calendar Round. She suddenly experienced a sinking sensation that something was wrong, out of place, planted. Gillian opened her mouth ready to voice a warning, but it was too late. Julia had pressed the stone and a deep, earthly groan rumbled beneath them.

The entire back wall had begun to shift sideways. Created from a solid block of stone that must have weighed many tons, Gillian expected that it would be stiff and noisy, but it moved as fluidly as water flowing down a stream. She was utterly amazed by the expert artisanship not seen before in the Mayan world.

‘Wow!’ exclaimed Richard and Mitchell in unison as the limestone disappeared into the wall and an elaborately painted room of approximately thirteen foot square came into view. It was totally covered by murals with not a blank space visible. Again it depicted the life in Tikal, but this time it was a little more personal, with paintings of the same priest in various scenes before a king and in his personal life at home.

Richard, Mitchell, Julia and Redmond moved enthusiastically to the back of the room, enthralled by the treasure trove of information before them. They stepped aside for Fred who shuffled in beside them, photographing the room for later studies. Gillian knew he would spend the next few weeks decoding the meaning behind the paintings and create meticulous records of their discoveries.

‘Come and look, Gillian!’ called Fred in awe. As she turned to him, a swift, almost shocking crunching sound could be heard from the roof above her head. Acting on instinct, Gillian dropped to her stomach and rolled away from the noise. She hit her knees and elbows hard against the floor, the pain going unnoticed as an iron gate plummeted to the ground, missing her by less than an inch.

Gillian groaned and sat up quickly, realizing that she was on the opposite side of the limestone gate to her friends. They were trapped, and the look of horror on her friends’ faces as the block reappeared terrified her. She yelled and screamed, but there was nothing she could do as the limestone wall slid back across the opening, almost sealing shut before Redmond slammed the pickaxe he’d been carrying into the gap with seconds to spare.

Gillian stood up, almost tripping over Samuel’s unconscious body as she hurried to the wall and her friends. She was surprised to find that he had also escaped, and a quick check of his vitals revealed that he was going to be fine.

She rushed to the gap created by Redmond and called. ‘Are you all okay?! If you give me a moment, I’ll find a way to get you out!’

‘Jilly, I fear we’re stuck here. The inner walls are made of a thin wood veneer that is likely to collapse with any drastic movement. We would be killed instantly. I still can’t believe that we were dumb enough to fall into this trap,’ moaned Richard.

‘And you might want this. I can’t be sure what it is, but I have a hunch this is the clue to our escape,’ he added, reaching through the gap and passing her a square jade tile approximately two inches in diameter. ‘I found it imbedded in a hole on the inside of the wall, but it’s too dark to translate the inscription … although if I’m not mistaken, it’s medieval Latin with an arrangement of unusual hieroglyphs on the back.’

‘I don’t understand. Latin was not introduced to America until Christopher Columbus in 1492,’ replied Gillian as the handle of the pickaxe began to splinter; the weight of the wall was too much for the small tool.

‘Yes, but this room is genuine. Look, Jilly, we don’t have much time. A few months ago, I unearthed a box at the base of the Temple of the Sun in Teotihuacán. It has these inscriptions on it and engravings that match this plaque. You need to get it and find out what’s inside. You’ll find it on my shelving, under M. Oh, and not to put any pressure on you, but we have just found a small crack in the floor. It seems we are hanging over a deep pit of some sort. Goodness knows what’s at the bottom, but we don’t really want to find out,’ added Richard, and with that, the axe gave way and fell into the abyss below.

CHAPTER THREE

Gillian was in shock, but she did not waste time. She dropped the tablet into her pocket and started to run towards the vertical stairs only to find that her right foot was snagged. Glancing downwards to see the cause of her obstruction, Gillian instantly recognized Samuel’s bucket-like hand wrapped around her ankle. He had come to, and the look of greed on his face made shivers run down her spine.

‘Give me that tile,’ he hissed as Gillian leapt onto her remaining foot and swung around, kicking him in his right shoulder. Samuel reacted by releasing her foot and giving her a few precious seconds to scramble free. Gillian sprinted across the hundred feet to the exit only to hear Samuel thunder along just behind her. He reached her just as she climbed the first two steps, grabbing her legs and bringing her crashing onto her already tender knees. She tried to swipe him with her fist, but he held her fast.

‘Come on, bitch. Where’s the tile?’ he growled as he began to rummage around in her pockets, his distraction allowing her to thrust out her left foot which landed directly in his groin. Samuel groaned in pain and dropped to the floor as Gillian scrambled into the light. She knew she had only won a small reprieve and her suspicions were confirmed when she heard him roar in anger behind her. On instinct she reached for the abandoned spade Julia had been using earlier and swung a scoop full of dirt into the hole behind her.

‘You bitch! Just wait until I get my hands on you!’ he screamed, leaving no doubt that she had deposited the entire load onto his face.

Gillian ran for her life. She had to get to Houston as quickly as possible, but her biggest problem was time. It was many hours to Guatemala Airport and a further two and a half to home. On top of that was the knowledge that Samuel would be on her heels. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that he had stumbled to the surface as she had feared.

Gillian sprinted to the Lost World Temple, desperate to find somewhere she could stop for a moment to clear her mind and formulate a plan. She quickly located a crumbling arch that had fallen into three pieces, creating a small alcove that was only about waist height. It was just below Samuel’s line of vision, so she hoped he would pass by without looking. Gillian ducked in and held her breath until she saw his enormous feet lumber past a few short seconds later. She exhaled quietly.

Sighing in relief, Gillian’s frantic mind explored every escape scenario, eventually locating and dropping the word ‘mobile phone’ into her consciousness.

‘Damn bloody fool,’ she swore silently. She had taken her mobile phone with her, turning it off and depositing it into her pocket when she had boarded the airplane. She could not believe she had forgotten about it.

Gillian hastily located the old Nokia inside her thin cotton vest and turned it on only to be met with a beep and the symbol for low battery. Fury welled up inside her at her own stupidity. She guessed that there was only enough power for one call and with luck eventually falling her way and the phone registering adequate reception, Gillian dialed her father’s work. It was a long shot, but she hoped he could pull some strings to help her.

Praying he was at his desk, Gillian looked out of her hiding spot and saw Samuel come to an abrupt halt. He had realized she was no longer in front of him and the innocent look of puzzlement transformed instantly to fury at the realization that he had been duped. Gillian had to get out of there and quick.

She scrambled to her feet with her phone plastered to her ear and sprinted out into the open. She heard her father answer her call, but she ignored him for a moment while she got her bearings and raced across to the Central Acropolis. She fervently hoped it was inundated with tourists.

‘Dad, I need help … my friends are in danger and I’m being chased!’ she screamed as she pushed her toned legs to the limit ducking, weaving, jumping every obstacle in her path. She was pleased that she was supremely fit, but the effort at being forced to take two steps for Samuel’s one drained her, and with this heat, she was unsure how long she could keep it up.

‘Where are you?’ Dale yelled, his deep voice tense and worried.

‘Tikal, Guatemala,’ Gillian replied as the phone dropped out. She desperately hoped that her father had understood the message.

General Dale Bright had been sitting in his office sipping a cup of strong black coffee and reading the report from the latest reconnaissance mission when his office phone buzzed repeatedly. He was tempted to ignore it, but a quick look at the caller ID screen conveyed his daughter’s number in highlighted orange. He picked up the phone immediately. It was not unusual for her to call; in fact, they spoke on a regular basis, but it was abnormal for her to ask for assistance. It was for this very reason that he knew her life was threatened.

Dale swung into action. He checked his schedule and noted that he was expecting a group of eleven men to return that afternoon from Campeche, Mexico. They were the closest to Tikal and probably his only viable option. The UH-60 Black Hawk they were flying had a top speed of 115 miles per hour which meant that they could reach Tikal in about an hour and a half. He hoped that was soon enough.

Dale picked up the radio and called Georgio Catalino. They had known each other since the Vietnam War in 1970 when the helicopter piloted by the small Greek had received a direct shot through the windshield, rendering Georgio comatose. Despite being a foot soldier and having no training in flight, Dale took the controls and flew Georgio back to base, saving his life. They had kept in contact ever since.

‘We’re on schedule, Dale. We’re just about to leave Campeche and with two planned fuel stops, I’d estimate that we’ll arrive back at Fort Sam Houston at 21 hundred hours.’

‘That’s not the reason for this call. I have a situation that requires the utmost confidentiality and it will take you a couple of hours out of your way.’

‘Name it. I owe you one anyway.’

‘You don’t owe me a thing, Georgio, but it appears my daughter has found herself in trouble at Tikal. I need you to get her out.’

‘Consider it done. For the record, it appears that I’ve hit a little snag that will take me four hours to resolve. Unfortunately I’ll have to log the extra tank of juice and I’ll make sure to include the added delay and changes in the register,’ said Georgio unwaveringly and in good humor as he abruptly ended the call.

Dale placed his hands behind his head and reclined thoughtfully in his chair. Georgio was a good man. He’d keep the matter quiet and he trusted him to bring his daughter back safely. His rank as general allowed Dale to order any changes to a mission without question, but he was loath to let his men learn that he was wasting government funds for his own benefits. It was imperative that no one discovered his small indiscretion.

Contemplating his many missions with the small, slightly overweight Greek who loved anything that started or ended in ‘food’, Dale automatically screwed up his foam coffee cup and aimed for the bin near his office door. In the ten years that he had occupied this office, he had never missed the basket, but this afternoon it bounced against the bookcase and landed defiantly a foot away from the intended target. Frowning in concern at his unusual failure, he hoped this was not a sign of things to come.

Not as worrying as his daughter’s predicament, but nonetheless concerning, was the failed covert operation Georgio had been on in Campeche and in a small town in Guatemala called San Marcos. They had received some intelligence about a drug smuggling ring involving high-ranking officials throughout Mexico and North America.

The list of suspected operators was as impressive as it was powerful and Dale had hoped to get a foothold into the group and break it wide open. This was not the first time the army had attempted to infiltrate the secret operation - knowledge of the congregation was known more than fifty years ago and they had tried on many occasions since but failed miserably each time.

The suspected leader was a man named Arun Keane. The little they knew about him came from a woman they had discovered wandering the streets of San Marcos, Guatemala semi-naked and alone twenty years ago. She had been horribly mutilated. Her fingers were cut off to the knuckles on her left hand and her genitals pierced and sliced so badly that she required reconstructive plastic surgery. There were horizontal cuts to all the major veins in her body. It was as if she had been bled then sewn up only to have it done all over again. From all reports, she should not have survived such a traumatic event.

She had been immediately placed into an induced coma designed to allow her body the maximum amount of rest and recovery. When she came to, it had been a few days before Dale was allowed to interview her. He admitted to being nervous and had struggled to control his emotions as he had entered the hospital room.

Dale had studied her face and despite the considerable scarring along the left ear and cheek, she was very attractive. Her long black hair was glossy, her eyes large and expressive and she had an unusual, extremely detailed tattoo of the Mayan Calendar Round between her neck and shoulder blade.

Throughout most of the interview she had ranted and raved, a deep psychosis causing the loss of most of her memory, but in the occasional moments of clarity, she revealed that she was a true survivor, a trait Dale greatly admired. He had also discovered that her marred exterior was simply a shell for a beautiful personality and Dale felt strangely drawn to her which surprised and puzzled him. Perhaps it was her resemblance to the ideal soldier that attracted him; able to put her body on the line but strong enough for it not to affect her psyche.

In her daze, she had revealed sketchy details about elaborate ceremonies and vast quantities of white powder being shipped out on a weekly basis after each ceremony. It was not much for him to go on, but it was a start that led to subsequent arrests and the uncovering of other group members, which allowed them to make inroads on the operation. He also secretly kept in contact with Reynata, visiting as often as possible.

Turning his thoughts back to his latest mission, Dale wondered how it had gone so wrong. They had uncovered an entire cocaine storage facility outside Eagle Pass near the border of Texas and Mexico three months ago. In it they had been lucky enough to find a small notebook that contained the names of Arun and a surprisingly well-known list of clients leading to a prominent and illustrious mayor being arrested and charged for possession. It was he who had given them the location of the facility in Campeche, under extreme duress, thanks to the assistance of his expert interrogator who never failed to obtain the required information. Still, it had not led to anything substantial and it frustrated him.

CHAPTER FOUR

In the hour that had passed since she had called her father, Gillian had covered every area of the Central Acropolis, North Acropolis and Great Plaza in a bid to outwit and outrun Samuel. It was very late in the day and the sun was beginning to set. There had been no tourists as she had hoped and Samuel was right on her tail.

Gillian had managed a small reprieve for fifteen minutes after locating a tunnel in which to hide, but Samuel had found her. He was persistent, but her years of training had given her endurance and speed. She was much quicker than him, but her legs were beginning to fail her. They had passed their pain threshold and were something akin to wobbling pieces of jelly.

Samuel had also produced a large hunting knife and only moments earlier had grabbed her by the hair and slashed her right forearm. Gillian escaped by rolling away and leaping the six feet from the ledge onto the side of Temple I. Her landing was unbalanced and even the grassy surface was unable to cushion her fall, causing her to twist her ankle.

The pain was horrendous, but she picked herself up and continued her escape only to find that the throb in her leg brought about a lack of concentration. She was limping and tired and she could sense that her will to fight was failing her. She longed to rest and was in the midst of indulging in that pleasant thought when she tripped over a concealed, discarded building block.

She tried to peel herself off the ground, but it was too late. Samuel was right behind her. He grabbed her and placed a knife to her throat.

‘At last I have you. You may be quick, but you are a stupid, red-haired bitch,’ he hissed as Gillian felt his sweat drip onto her head and clothes. It carried a revolting stench of body odor and it took all of her control to stop from retching.

Her first reaction was to give in, but that was not in her nature, so she decided to fight. Gillian turned her right hand out from his grip, thankful that his hand was not big enough to contain both of hers. She twisted, lifted and slammed both of her elbows into his chin with as much force as she could muster. Her unexpected, powerful drive slammed his head