The Jaguar (32 page)

Within seconds, Mulac found himself swept up between the shoulders of two barrel-chested soldiers and carried along the main street towards the central square. From almost every house, people emerged to fortify the throng, and the chanting became so loud it seemed to be coming from inside his still aching head. The pyramid temple came into view, its summit afire in the rays of the early evening sun. Horns sounded and priests called for the attention of their gods. Everywhere, colourful drapes and flags fluttered in the cooling breeze and lines of girls rose and fell in the unity of dance. Once again Mulac was enthroned. The seat was levered backwards up the steep stone steps of the temple, much to his consternation as it jerked erratically from side to side. A tentative, high speed wave to the crowd below nearly turned into a fall, as the chair lurched violently.

Safely at the summit, Mulac stood and paid his respects to the semi-circle of dignitaries around him. Pungent incense swirled from a central burner. A necklace of jaguar claws was placed around his neck, an honour bestowed on only the finest warriors. Walking into full view of those below, facing the fading sun, he raised both arms to the heavens. The crowd stilled. Mulac did not move, savouring the warmth of the rays on his face. He had unfinished business with K'inich. The great cat of light and darkness lingered in the sky, above the distant marshes, casting one last fiery glare before changing form and leaping from beneath the horizon to command the night. Taking his cue from the priest, his words strong and sure, Mulac rotated slowly, chanting a Mayan prayer. He was copied by many of those in the square below.

A naked dwarf covered in green dye and leaves - a forest sprite - was holding out a dark obsidian blade. It caught a light halfway between sun and moon. Mulac raised it for the crowd to cheer then brought it down deliberately across his forearm. Blood spilled from his elbow into a jade drinking vessel. Once full, it was passed around the circle, each noble raising the cup high in prayer, before drawing it down to his lips. Mulac felt the life-force flowing from him, but knew his blood would fortify the city. He grew light-headed. Where once had been a single sun now shone two, hanging low in the sky: the eyes of the crouching jaguar. Their combined light barely found its way through the haze which rapidly enveloped his vision. His body felt heavy and his legs weak, but he fought to stay upright a little longer to prove to K'inich that it was a warrior he was facing. Darkness came upon him, as though the great cat had suddenly snatched away the day. He fell beneath the smothering ebony sheen of it coat, and never felt the grip of the strong arms that reached out to catch him.

Mulac could smell his son's hair before he opened his eyes, and knew it was that which had made him dream of his old Tulum home. It was night and he had no idea how long he had been sleeping beside Yochi. His arm was freshly bandaged and his forehead too. There was no sound and no torchlight, suggesting midway between dusk and dawn. He looked around, but nothing gave away his location. A jaguar growled. The sound was unmistakeable and close: the god had taken animal form. It must be inside the city, Mulac reasoned, but how could it be prowling the streets? He turned and put his good arm gently around his son. For his sake, he must not show fear. For a long time he lay alert, anticipating a snarl from much closer quarters, but it was weariness that took him once more. Purring punctuated his sleep. But somehow it felt normal: as though it had always been.

The next time he awoke the low sun of morning was streaming through an unfamiliar doorway. He was alone, but he could hear conversation and calls outside. Mulac found he could stand, then that he could walk. His headache had disappeared. His arm stung a little as he gripped the doorframe, but his main sensation was thirst. As his eyes grew used to the light, he was stunned by the vista of trade and industry set out before him. Pathways of cobbled stone led down to the lake-front. The shoreline disappeared beneath lines of jetties and row after row of watercraft of all shapes and sizes. Either side of each pathway, sacks and crates lay in clearly defined piles. Some were covered in nets and some were the focus of heated discussion between traders. One man was running corn from an open sack between his fingers and nodding sagely. Another was supervising a line of porters, as they cleared a space for an in-coming cargo. Everywhere there were shouts and calls and laughter. Mulac stood transfixed, until he felt his son slip a hand into his. He looked down and smiled. It was a long time since he had felt so happy.

Without a word his son was gone again, weaving his way through the bustle. He disappeared into a grand looking single-storey stone building, fronted by three wide doorways. Mulac took a few steps in the same direction, but was immediately surrounded by grinning faces. Other hands grasped his and a concerned middle-aged woman, who had followed him outside, offered him a long drink of cool water. It lay in a shallow dish, in which floated a single white lily. Mulac studied his reflection. Somehow, he was clean shaven and his face un-painted. His dark hair was freshly cut. Much time must have passed whilst he had been sleeping.

The head priest emerged from the building and beckoned to Mulac. He found himself propelled there by the crowd. The inside consisted of a single chamber. The walls were freshly plastered and hung with fine drapery. At one end sat an ornate stone table. Mulac was ushered to a cushion-covered bench beside it.

“Welcome home, Chief Officer of Customs.”

Mulac looked blankly at the priest.

“This role is given to you by the people of Muyil - the greatest port city in the Kingdom of Coba. You have a house here and a salary for life. You will learn your trade and you will learn to write: there are two assistants, who will be happy to show you how. From every cargo you will collect a new tax. From these monies a monument will be erected, here in the marshes, in honour of our greatest victory and the man who inspired us.”

Mulac shook his head in disbelief. He was crying.

Chapter Forty-One

The Marshes

All morning Laura had busied herself with the boats, though she felt Alfredo's eyes constantly upon her. Half the tents were already down. Whilst a few individuals lingered over cooked breakfasts, others were already paddling in experimental circles, or pushing valuables into watertight containers. Three solid metal motorboats with canvas sunscreens on metal scaffolds held the bulk of the kit. Marcus would take charge of one, Cesar another and the head porter, Daniel, the third. Everyone else, except Luis and Alfredo, had declared their intention to start out by canoe. Laura worried that Jackie's injured foot would prove too uncomfortable for her to paddle far, but she had been insistent.

As Laura helped to adjust life-jackets and apply sunscreen, she stole furtive glances in Luis and Alfredo's direction. Both stood with hands in pockets, watching the minor panics and last minute searches for newly essential items with looks of increasing frustration. Something didn't add up. Were they in more danger than Alfredo had suggested? If so, why was the trip proceeding? These thoughts were not alone in Laura's mind. Much was still occupied by the events of the night before, when sudden panic had made her retreat to the safety of her tent, before Alfredo followed her into the night. The moment she left his side she had come to her senses. That hadn't stopped an aching feeling of disappointment growing steadily inside her. Her senses had been heightened further by a deep and dreamless night's sleep and an irrational, but intense feeling that she already knew this man.

Laura noticed that Marcus was sitting in the lee of the shack, out of sight of the brothers, fiddling with his mobile phone. He seemed to be awaiting a call, so it was the children who helped launch Laura and David's canoe. Once on the water, Laura felt more settled and descended fitfully into giggles as she realised David couldn't steer. The children cruised past, sat between Ethan and Felicity. They managed to soak Ethan as they tried to splash David. David joined Laura in helpless laughter at Ethan's splutter of surprise. For a brief moment, Laura forgot all about Alfredo.

Marcus had called and texted Carlos several times, without response. The canoes were heading into deep water and he knew that he must soon follow. He was not a neurotic person but, fleetingly, as he listened to the cheery banter carried across the lake, he wondered if he hadn't lost his nerve. His emotions were scrambled, of that he was sure. The current crisis with poachers provided the final stir, but Dana was most of the mix. If he wasn't in love with Dana it was only because things had moved so rapidly his feelings had yet to catch up. He felt the inevitability of embarrassment and stilted conversation yet to come; the certainty of disappointment. He looked out towards Laura and shook his head slowly. He had hired her because she looked like Isabel, the dead cousin he had loved to distraction. Laura was not Isabel and he was reminded of that simple truth every time he saw her. Now he couldn't help but resent her presence, all the more so as she was coping so much better than he. Marcus drew a deep breath and stood up. He took one last inspectorial look around the camp, shook the hands of the porters who were remaining behind, fixed a casual smile on his face and pushed his boat out to join the little fleet.

The pace was slow and the lake expansive. The sun was still no more than a casual acquaintance, but it would soon muscle its way into the group. As the near shore became increasingly indistinct, Luis and Alfredo's spirits lifted. They had shared an overtly leisurely breakfast, neither admitting to the other that tension meant they were forcing down their food. Alfredo had casually mentioned an interest in Laura and had been quite put out by Luis' non-committal shrug of the shoulders. “They are good people,” he acknowledged, “but we cannot afford to get involved.” Luis nearly reminded Alfredo of the killer he was, but instead just patted his back - he too wanted to savour the innocence associated with their assumed roles for as long as he could. Besides Alex, his wife, and he had achieved some sort of normality for a time in the USA. Perhaps Alfredo could do the same, although surely not with some naïve little English girl? What was Alfredo going to do anyway: ask her to abandon her party and flee with him as a fugitive to Belize?

Alfredo was sitting opposite his brother at the front of Cesar's launch, staring into the bow wake. He was trying not to look at Laura, but thought about her anyway. Whenever he did so, he also thought of home. Now, for the first time, he wondered at the connection.

There was a shout from Marcus. Cesar and Daniel immediately cut their engines. Jackie was struggling. Marcus took her and Darryl's canoe in tow. As soon as the sound of the powerful outboard motors waned, another mechanical growling took their place - indistinct at first, but then increasingly insistent.

Luis swivelled to face the distant marshes. A helicopter was sweeping towards them. Turning again, he grabbed Alfredo's wrist to prevent him drawing his weapon. Then he stared hard at Cesar, to ensure he too kept his cool. People began to shout and wave. Alfredo followed Luis' lead and joined in, at the same time grabbing the side of the boat in case he had to make a quick exit into the water. The overgrown insect slowed as it approached. There was no doubt that they were its target. It began to circle, the downdraught kicking up a concentrated mass of ripples. Craft began to drift apart in various directions. The children were standing and cheering, their canoe wobbling precariously.

Luis could see it was a private machine, but why such a close approach if it was just another group of tourists on a joy-ride? He concentrated hard and made out two men within the Perspex dome. They seemed to be Mexican. They looked serious, but not necessarily threatening. Eusabio's men, or Xterra: possibly, but why the lack of aggression? Detectives: again it was possible, but why no police force markings? Perhaps it was the park authorities, but they wouldn't have their own helicopter and were likely to be wearing uniform. If it was park wardens, and they had gone to the expense of hiring a machine, then they must have major concerns about the group. That in turn meant someone in the party had probably been in contact. Luis stood up and made his way carefully down the boat to confront Cesar.

From Marcus' perspective, something didn't add up. His party was already being escorted by two park officials and now a helicopter was checking up on them. Whatever the threat to the group was, it must be serious. He needed to speak with Carlos. Disconcertingly, one of the pilots actually looked like Carlos, although he didn't acknowledge his wave. Even more troubling, the other man was the spitting image of the taxi-driver he had encountered on his arrival from England. He needed to take control, both of himself and of the situation. Glancing behind his boat, down the trailing tow-line, it was clear that Jackie and Darryl were now OK. However, the children in Felicity and Ethan's boat were in danger of falling in, but Marcus couldn't get their attention. Irritatingly, David had been waving with his paddle and had managed to throw it overboard. Laura, sitting at the front of their canoe, didn't seem to have noticed.

Marcus bellowed unsuccessfully again. He pulled out his mobile and pressed redial, still hoping for Carlos and a proper explanation of what was going on. Nothing happened. Marcus held up the phone in an instinctive search for a signal. This caught Luis' eye, over in Cesar's launch. Luis smiled ingratiatingly, but slightly too slowly for Marcus not to notice the menace in his initial expression. At last Marcus understood. These men were not who they said they were. They were also dangerous, and whoever was in the helicopter must be aware of the same thing. Marcus smiled self-consciously back at Luis, at the same time thrusting the cell-phone deep into a pocket.

“A helicopter too - you guys are really looking after us,” Marcus shouted breezily over the din.

“Glad to be of service,” Luis hollered back, equally casually, before returning to his conversation with Cesar.