Torrent (21 page)

Flat duffel bags were heaped in the corners of Pacho's tent. A sleeping bag lay neatly on the ground.

I zipped up the tent and grabbed one of the duffel bags from the closest pile. It felt nearly weightless in my hands. Quickly, I opened it up.

It was empty.

I opened another one. It was also empty.

Swiftly, I opened the other bags in the pile. One bag contained several changes of clothes and other personal items. The others were empty.

I crawled to the other corners and checked more bags. They were all empty. Frustrated, I sat down on the sleeping bag. Someone, possibly Miranda, had seen fit to dispose of Pacho's belongings. But why? What had he kept in the bags?

I turned to leave. As I crawled toward the flap, I heard a slight crinkling noise underneath me.

I pulled aside the sleeping bag. Seeing nothing, I unzipped it. Inside, I discovered a bundle of stapled academic papers along with a pen. My eyes scanned the first three titles.

Ancient Mexico: A Study of Drought Cycles.

Climate Change in the Americas: A History.

The Rise and Fall of the Maya Empire.

I didn't recognize the first two papers. But the third paper was famous. It had been used as a starting point for one of the most renowned archaeological tomes of recent years. A single author's name was written beneath the title.

Dr. Miranda May.

I quickly leafed through the paper. The apparatus—footnotes and citations—was massive. Text had been scrawled alongside some of the footnotes. A closer look revealed the footnotes pointed at two titles.

Ancient Mexico: A Study of Drought Cycles.

Climate Change in the Americas: A History

A frown creased my visage. For the next few minutes, I quietly read the other two papers. Then I crosschecked their information and datasets with Miranda's paper. My gaze narrowed as I realized what Pacho had discovered.

I picked up the other papers. All of them were referenced in Miranda's apparatus. Swiftly, I checked Pacho's handwritten notes with her footnotes and citations. Then I crosschecked everything with the relevant information and datasets.

Stunned, I stuffed the papers under my jacket. I didn't know how he'd done it, but Pacho had uncovered an incredible secret about Miranda. I couldn't be certain she was a killer.

But she was a fraud of epic proportions.

Chapter 67

"Miranda lied." I pulled off my jacket as I crawled into the tent. "Not just to us, but to the entire world."

"What do you mean?" Beverly asked.

"Before he died, Pacho was dissecting one of her most famous papers about the Classic Maya Collapse. He found incorrect quotations, altered data, misrepresented archives, and even citations that don't exist."

"But that means …"

"Her paper is a fabrication. Based on his notes, it looks like he was getting ready to accuse her of deliberately trimming and massaging the evidence to fit her thesis."

"So, climate change didn't cause the Classic Maya Collapse?"

"I can't be sure about that. All I know is that Miranda's paper is tainted."

"I don't get it." She shook her head. "Didn't anyone vet her work?"

"Sure. I bet a whole bunch of historians, archaeologists, and scientists read it before publication. I have no idea why they didn't catch the errors though."

"Are you going to confront her?"

"Not yet. I don't think these are the only papers Pacho brought with him. His tent is filled with empty duffel bags. They smell musty on the inside, like old paper."

"Do you think Miranda took them?"

I nodded. "I also think she killed him."

Beverly frowned.

"She has a motive. Plus, she was the only one standing near him at the time of his death. She must've seen the trap and pushed him toward it."

"How sure are you about this?"

"Nearly positive."

She was quiet for a moment. "I can't imagine killing someone over a few citations."

"Miranda is one of the most respected archaeologists in the world. Environmentalists line up to hear her speeches. Her colleagues frequently quote her work. Members of the media love her. They call her the Prophet of the Past because she uses lessons from the Classic Maya civilization to talk about the dangers of manmade climate change." I shrugged. "In other words, she's got a lot to lose. If word leaked out about the true nature of her work, she'd be finished."

"What do you want to do?"

"All I can prove is that she fabricated one paper. So, for now, let's keep this between you, Dutch, and me. But we need to be careful as we get closer to finding the Library of the Mayas."

"Why's that?"

"She's already convinced most people that climate change caused the Classic Maya Collapse. The library can't help her in that respect." I frowned. "But it can certainly hurt her."

Chapter 68

Grrrarrr …

Carlos Tum poked a stick at the fire. Tiny embers glowed amongst the roaring flames.

Hreeech!

The jungle exploded with sound. Ear-splitting bellows. Harsh shrieks. Long, drawn-out howls. Deep-throated growls. Vicious hisses.

And through it all, Tum never moved a muscle. He was used to jungle noises. In fact, he enjoyed them.

The noises grew louder. It sounded like a herd of giant animals storming the clearing. But Tum knew it was just his ears playing tricks on him.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

Tum groaned silently. The only thing worse than being on guard duty was sharing that responsibility with Crowley. "I like you just fine," he replied.

"You're wrong," Crowley said after a few moments. "About the predators, I mean."

"How so?"

"It's not safe to live close to predators, especially in a place that hasn't seen people in hundreds of years."

"Actually, I don't disagree with you."

"Then why do you get so upset about killing them?"

"They have as much right to be here as we do. More so, actually."

"So, what do you think should be done about this giant cat?"

"Unless we're in imminent danger, we should leave it alone."

"It killed one of our dogs."

"I understand that." Tum's ears perked as a strange sound rose above the din of the jungle. "But as far as I'm concerned, the cat was here first. We need to learn to live with it."

"What if it doesn't want to live with us?"

"It'll learn."

Alonzo raced past the fire pit with a determined look etched upon his visage. He ran to the edge of camp and skidded to a halt. Then he lifted his chin and bayed at the cloud-covered moon.

Tum respected Alonzo's ears and instincts. So, he listened hard. After a moment, he heard a woeful howling noise.

"Did you hear that?" Nervously, Crowley pulled a pistol from his belt. "I think that's the cat."

Alonzo took off like a rocket, racing to the jungle at top speed. Crowley jumped to his feet and followed suit.

Tum stood up. He listened to the howling noise for a few more seconds. He heard pain in the creature's voice.

He picked up a rifle. Adopting a fast jog, he moved toward the tree line. Moments later, he slipped into the jungle.

Up ahead, he saw Crowley slide to a halt. Alonzo stood a few feet away, barking with great aggression.

Tum jogged a little further. Then he saw
it
.

His heart raced. He'd lived and worked in the jungle his entire life. He'd seen many large cats over that time. But this one was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

It was roughly seven feet long and four feet tall. It possessed powerful muscles, a short tail, and stubby legs. In many ways, it looked like a jaguar. But in many other ways, it was completely different.

Usually, jaguars sported orange coats with black spots. But the creature's mantle was a sickly yellowish color. Its spots were unusually small and grouped close together.

Large parts of its body weren't even covered by the mantle. Instead, its exposed skin looked scaly, reptilian. Its bright green eyes were strangest of all. They showed a glint of unusual intelligence.

Tum released a long breath. The creature's right leg was trapped in one of the horrid snares prepared by Graham and Crowley. It had tried to escape by climbing a nearby tree. In the process, it had ripped large chunks of bark from the trunk. The only bright side was that the metal snare had been wrapped in duct tape, which kept it from slicing through muscle and bone. Still, the creature's leg bled profusely.

"That's the one." Crowley aimed a flashlight beam at the creature's entrapped leg. "You can see the scars from here."

Tum squinted. Indeed, the creature's rear right heel pad featured two crisscrossing scratches.

The creature twisted toward him. Its bright green eyes flashed in the near darkness. It looked forlorn, anguished.

Tum's heart ached. He was reminded of an old story his father had told him about a runaway Maya slave. While taking refuge in a cavern, the slave had stumbled upon a wounded jaguar. Although frightened at first, the slave eventually pulled two arrowheads out of the creature's footpad. The jaguar, thankful for the mercy, later saved the slave from those who sought to put him back in chains.

Slowly, the creature's head drifted to the ground. Its sad eyes remained locked on Tum until they finally closed over. At that very moment, Tum felt a connection to the creature. He resolved to do everything in his power to protect it.

"I think it passed out," Crowley said.

"We should cut it loose. It won't bother us again."

"Forget it, nature boy." Crowley lifted his pistol. "I'm taking it down."

Tum's jaw grew slack as he saw Crowley line the gun up with the creature's head. His brain screamed at him to do something.

Tum swung his rifle. It slammed into Crowley's head. The man's knees gave out and he toppled forward. His teeth chattered loudly as his chin smacked the ground.

Alonzo spun away from the strange cat. Barking loudly, he started to nip at Tum's legs.

Acting on instinct, Tum jabbed the rifle at the dog's head. A soft cracking noise rang out. Alonzo crumpled to the ground.

Coldness swept over Tum as he knelt down to check the dog. It was no longer breathing.

Lifting his chin, he said a quick prayer for Alonzo. Then he crept toward the cat. It looked peaceful. Bending down, he examined the snare trap. He worked his fingers into the metal cables and loosened the loop. Afterward, he pulled it away.

He had no bandages and he wasn't about to risk waking the others to get some. They wouldn't understand what he was doing, how he was building a bridge of peace between man and nature.

So, he pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around the creature's wounded leg. Looking back, Tum saw Alonzo and Crowley.

A thought occurred to him. The big cat would be weak and groggy when it regained consciousness. It would need something to regain its strength.

It would need a meal.

Chapter 69

An uneasy yawn escaped my lips as I twisted in my sleeping bag. My eyes felt heavy. I could barely move my tired, exhausted limbs. But my brain was wide-awake.

Memories of Pacho's death consumed me. Thinking hard, I tried to distract myself. A picture appeared in my brain. It was crisp, clear. It captured the pyramid and surrounding jungle in dull, unearthly colors.

Did Hunahpu build the pyramid on top of previous ruins?

That made sense, especially since it was a common tactic among the Classic Mayas. Excavations of their tallest temples often showed layers of smaller temples beneath the surface. Plus, the murals I'd seen in the summit shrine had depicted small buildings in the canyon during the Maya invasion. So far, I'd seen no evidence of those buildings. Assuming Hunahpu hadn't torn them down, they could've been repurposed for the pyramid.

Is there another way inside the pyramid?

While traversing the tunnel, I'd scoured every inch of the space. I hadn't seen any other passages. Either a hidden plug blocked our path or the tunnel was just another decoy.

What about the death gods?

Graham thought they were nothing more than a story designed to scare laborers into working hard. But I wasn't so sure. Hunahpu and Xbalanque had braved animals, elements, and isolation to build a massive, impenetrable pyramid. Then they'd sealed it off from the rest of the world. That kind of dedication indicated something had spooked them. But what?

It can wait. Need to sleep.

The rain splashed noisily against the tent roof. I scrunched my eyes shut, trying to will my brain to rest. But fresh thoughts of Pacho and Miranda flooded my mind.

"Ahhh! Help me!" Crowley's distant voice burst into my ears. "Holy—"

As his voice choked out, I sat up. Beverly and I looked at each other. Then we pulled on our boots, grabbed our gear, and ran outside.

A deep-throated growl pierced the air. Wielding my machete, I ran into the jungle. I saw three shadowy figures in the distance. Alonzo lay on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. Crowley, bloody and covered with cuts, struggled weakly with a third shadow.

What the hell is that thing?

Horrific screams filled the air. Then something that sounded an awful lot like tearing paper.

My blood chilled as I reached for my holster. Something was being torn all right. Only it wasn't paper.

It was flesh.

Chapter 70

Crowley screamed again and I grabbed my pistol.

The creature looked at me. Its green eyes glittered dangerously. It was a dead ringer for the nagual depicted on the roof comb's stone mosaic.

I squeezed the trigger. A burst of gunfire exploded into the night. The creature reared up and twisted to the side.

I blinked.

It was gone.

"Did you see that?" I whispered.

Beverly nodded, grim-faced.

"Hey." Tum ran up to us. "Have you seen Crowley?"