Deity (12 page)

“In a nutshell.
I suspect Matt may be
preparing to deposit the cross amid some Mayan 2012 ritual.” He sighed as if regretting
what he was about to say next. “I fear John aided this religious experiment by
handing him the Effigy.”

Lori
considered a moment, but something about Dr. Peet’s reasoning didn’t fit right.
“That doesn’t sound like Dr. Friedman at all,” she argued. “He would never
allow something so reckless, let alone participate in it.”

“I
agree, but it’s the only way I can make heads or tails of this whole
situation.”

Lori
felt herself stiffen, her thoughts darkening. Obviously Dr. Peet wasn’t going
to give what he owed her, and yet she felt him reaching for assistance as
though it was expected of her.

“Now
you’ve come looking for my help,” she stated accusingly.

Dr.
Peet looked surprised. “Looking? No. I didn’t even know you were here,” he
said. “I was just hoping this vague trail with Matt and the reliquary cross would
somehow lead me to John.”

Lori
crossed her arms.
“Why are you telling me all of this if you
aren’t looking for my help?”

“I
guess I was hoping you’d want to help,” he admitted. “Dr. Friedman is our
colleague.”

“You
say that as though you and I are partners.”

Dr.
Peet’s face fell blank. “Are we not?”

“You
tell me, Dr. Peet. You haven’t spoken a word to me since Mexico City. You avoid me on campus. Hell,
Dr. Friedman keeps in touch better than you do. What gives?”

A
knock came at the door. Peet sprang to his feet, all too eager for an escape. With
an irritable sigh, Lori all but collapsed within herself. She was just gearing
herself up for the conversation she desperately needed and now Dr. Peet left
her hanging there with a mix of emotions boiling inside. She ached for the
openness she once had with him. They’d gone through too much to dissolve into
estranged acquaintances and yet Dr. Peet’s behavior was putting his reliability
into question.

Lori
needed a release. She needed to scream at the man. Just what had she done to
deserve this?

Dr.
Peet answered the door, promptly allowing Chac and Father Ruiz in with fresh
clothes. That’s when Lori realized the shower had stopped running. A moment
later the bathroom belched a cloud of soapy steam around KC’s refreshed figure.
She was wrapped in a long, white bathrobe, scrubbing her head with a towel. “I
thought I’d never get that smell out of my hair,” she groaned.

Suddenly,
the room was alive, shattering Lori’s chance to settle with Dr. Peet. Lori’s
mind quickly shifted gears. One troubling fact remained—Dr. Friedman was
missing. Denying Dr. Peet wasn’t going to find their friend.

* * * *

“I
don’t think Dr. Webb is conducting a religious exchange,” Lori said, catching
Peet by surprise. Even Chac and Father Ruiz paused to consider her words. Only
KC appeared to not have heard as she finished toweling her wet hair.

“What
benefit would there be?” Lori continued. “He may introduce traditional Maya to
Catholicism, but why bring the ancient and relatively inactive religion of
Quetzalcoatl to the Catholics?”

“Not
to mention Matt is Mormon,” Peet agreed.

Chac
nodded in agreement. “And the fact that Matt was in the middle of interpreting
his fresco, something he claimed was going to give the Mormons more
respectability among the religious communities. I doubt even the coming Christmas
holiday could pull him away from that.”

“He
probably made some big breakthrough,” KC spouted as she sorted through the
clothes Father Ruiz brought her.

Peet
glanced at
Chac,
giving KC’s flippant comment a
moment’s credit.

Chac
shook his head. “We were working together. The only breakthrough he had was
finding his Jesus fresco. From then on he was consumed with cleaning and
preserving it, not to mention documenting every piece of data he could pull before
he chose to unveil it to the world.”

“Maybe
he found something he didn’t tell you about, Chac,” Peet suggested, taking his
neatly folded clothes off the man’s hands. He set them aside on the bed. The
shirt was going to need ironed but not before he took his turn in the shower. It
was going to feel good getting out of the stinking, itchy clothes still
clinging uncomfortably to his body. “Do you think he could have returned to
finish his work on the fresco without you?”

Chac
shrugged. “I suppose he could have, but it’s unlikely. It’s risky going there
alone.”

“Maybe
he took the risk and found himself on the losing end of his gamble.”

“If
he did he went without his gear,” Chac said, taking a seat in a hand-carved
mahogany chair. “I found it all in the back of his Ford Explorer which is still
parked at his residence in Piste.”

Peet
noticed Lori pacing, her mind deep in thought. He knew that distant look, that
studious expression that indicated she’d withdrawn inside herself to work out a
problem. That was something he’d always liked about her. It didn’t matter the
problem, she was always up to the challenge, turning the problem around in her
mind, getting a good look at every possible angle and often finding something
there that hadn’t been considered before.

In
that moment he had to admire her ability to change gears, or was it her tact
for not lingering on a personal grudge in the company of others? Peet knew
she’d been fishing in their earlier conversation. He should have taken the bait
while he had the chance. After all, it was the first time they’d been alone
together in months.

Ever
since they recovered the stolen Effigy they’d been bombarded by people. First
it was the onslaught of news reporters and journalists. The notoriety hadn’t
had the chance to die down before he was off on the field study exhuming The
Trader’s body. Denying Lori a position on the field crew had created a rift
between them, and the tension only worsened as they progressed into the demands
of another school year. He just assumed she was distancing herself from him,
and anyone else associated with the dig.

Or
at least that’s what he told himself.

“Wait
a minute,” Lori said, turning her attention on Chac. “Back at the ruins you
told me Dr. Webb found evidence of Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl’s arrival in Yucatan. But now you’re
telling me he found Jesus instead? I don’t understand.”

Chac
leaned back in his chair with a smile. “It’s quite simple,” he said. “Matt
believes Quetzalcoatl is Jesus. He believed the Maya were describing Jesus when
they described the pale-faced, bearded man who brought wisdom from the east. But
the Maya didn’t know him as Jesus; they only knew him as Kukulcan.”

“Then
there must be something in that fresco that Dr. Webb picked up on,” Lori
pressed. “Maybe it led him to another site that offers more three-dimensional
evidence of his theory. It could be he was in too great of a hurry to tell anyone.”

“Again,
how did he get to the site without his vehicle?” Chac asked. “Not to mention he
left all his gear behind.”

Peet
cleared his throat. “Can you show us this fresco he found?”

Chac
shrugged his heavy shoulders. “I can’t imagine what that fresco could possibly
offer, but you’re welcome to judge for yourself. There’s just one thing I need
to know first.”

He
glanced at Lori, then back to Peet.

“How
well can you swim?”

Part II

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Uinal

“
Whatever might be is simply not there: only
murmurs, ripples, in the dark, in the night. Only the Maker, Modeler alone,
Sovereign Plumed Serpent, the Bearers,
Begetters
are
in the water, a glittering light. They are there; they are enclosed in quetzal
feathers, in blue-green.
”

Popol Vuh

* * * *

Chicxulub

“Scuba
Blue,” Lori said as Chac helped her mount the dual air tanks onto her back.

“Pardon
me?” Chac asked.

“It’s
a color someone once described to me,” Lori said. “See that cruise liner out
there?”

Overhearing the conversation, Peet turned his attention
away from his own gear to spot the ship Lori was referring to. Judging by its
size the ship was enormous, despite the considerable distance. The bright
morning sun gleaming off the water gave its pristine profile a shimmering
effect. It was beautiful, serene,
surreal
.

“It
looks like a squashed wedding cake skimming over a Scuba Blue sea,” Lori said.

Chac
chuckled as he worked over her equipment. It was the first time Peet had seen
the man really lighten up. Then again, Lori had a way of doing that. She
affected him much the same way, though this morning, he found himself admiring
her humor from a distance. Her enthusiasm, it seemed, was reserved for Chac
Bacab. Meanwhile, she appeared to make a point of avoiding eye contact with
Peet.

Perhaps
that was why he fought the impulse to keep a close eye on the Mayan
archaeologist. It was completely irrational, he knew. It wasn’t that he didn’t
trust Chac. Lori seemed to trust him completely. It was more a matter of longing
for the confidence she once placed in him. But what did it matter? It wasn’t
like Lori was going to be around after she graduated in the spring anyway. She
was a student, he kept telling himself. Eventually she would be moving on to
new projects with new partners.

He
just wished he didn’t have to witness the transition first hand.

As
Chac helped Lori into her awkward diving gear, Peet couldn’t help but notice
the sun glistened over the curves of her black wetsuit. He rebuked his eyes for
lingering. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the opposite sex. His admonition
was a residue reaction to fraternizing suspicions back at the university—suspicions
that nearly cost him his tenure. Although the accusations were proven false,
the conclusion came long after he’d already fallen into the habit of checking
his every move around his students—checking every word, every glance, every
motion—an inner paranoia nurtured to prevent rumor validation.

Peet
didn’t fraternize with his students, but as a man it was often difficult not to
notice them. The clothes they wore were designed to accentuate, not cover,
their sexuality. Even now, after Peet had been cleared of the fraternizing
accusations, some of his students seemed determined to test him. His classroom
was daily baited with lures. Even in the field, he couldn’t get away from
low-cut blouses that fell open as a young lady bent over her work.

Despite
the youth exposed all around him, their posturing was in vain. Peet wasn’t
about to lose his job over them. As a result, he’d come to appreciate the
conservative students - the girls who put less effort into drawing a man’s eye
and more into concentrating on their work, allowing Peet and his male
counterparts to comfortably do the same. Fortunately, Lori was that modest
type. Perhaps that was why he found it so easy to work with her. Perhaps that
was why he couldn’t take his eyes off of her now. There was an irresistible
familiarity working with Lori again.

There
was an unexpected temptation working with her like this.

The
wetsuit hugged Lori’s tight figure which had never before been so exposed, and
Chac Bacab’s hands were all over, checking tubes and buoyancy harnesses,
battery packs and air supply. Lori was compliant, carefully listening to his
instructions, even as he took her hand to double check the diving light
strapped to her wrist.

Peet
finally turned away.

“We’re
all set,” Chac announced. “Let’s go.”

Sporting
his own wetsuit and burdened with gear, Chac started for the trees just beyond
his Land Rover.

“We’re
not going to the ocean?” Peet called after him.

“We
won’t be splashing around that Scuba Blue,” Chac called over his shoulder. “Not
today.”

Peet
heard him chuckle as he ducked into the trees. That’s when a pair of fins
slapped him squarely in the chest. He looked down to find a dispirited cloud in
Lori’s eyes.

“I
believe these are yours, Dr. Peet.”

* * * *

Chac
looked good in a wetsuit. Lori already knew he had a husky build to him, but
what could have been interpreted as age-related thickness was now revealed as
sinewy muscle, and plenty of it. She couldn’t help but wonder where he’d developed
such an athletic frame. After all, he didn’t strike her as the type that spent
hours in the gym.

If
there was anything that could distract her from the masculinity trekking the
footpath ahead, it was the rainforest that quickly devoured them. The trees
were alive with the relentless cries of birds. There were hundreds of them,
maybe thousands. The canopy was infested with them, their fervent noise
striving to drown the occasional wail of a monkey.