Treasure of the Mayan King (2012) (19 page)

Disappointment flashed across Chauncy’s face but it changed into a smile. “Well, I guess you have to do what you have to do.”

The bartender suddenly turned off the music and shouted, “Hey everyone, listen up. It’s about Jose Padilla Madrid.”

The whole crowd quieted as they all turned to stare at the large-screen TV mounted on the wall. After a moment, Captain Gustavo De Leon appeared.

“Ladies and gentlemen, yesterday morning our troops intercepted Jose Padilla Madrid at Chichen Itza, where he was preparing to leave the country. Madrid was killed and his men captured.

“I am pleased to announce that we also captured the person responsible for Madrid”s liberation from the federal maximum security prison. A representative of the American Embassy, George Hawkins, was also planning to leave the country with one million American dollars. He has confessed to arranging the charade that framed the Mexican military for Madrid”s escape.

“I would personally like to thank the members of the Mexican Military forces for helping me capture these men. I have always had confidence in their integrity.”

Gustavo De Leon looked straight at the camera, with a small grin and a glint in his eye. “I would also like to express deep gratitude to the non-military foreigners that assisted in the capture of Mr. Madrid.”

Despite his pain, Chauncy stood up and raised his glass of iced tea toward the television.

“You are welcome, Captain Gustavo De Leon,” he murmured. “You are very welcome.”

Book Three: The Mayan Treasure

Chapter One

Gustavo De Leon surveyed his new office with a satisfied smile. Workers were scurrying about, putting the finishing touches on the remodeling. Technicians worked on whatever it is they did with computers. Decorators nudged furniture into position. Electricians completed their work on the upgraded electrical system.

The sun was slipping below the horizon, casting long shadows in the room. De Leon spared a glance at the darkening hills. Twilight always held a certain fascination for him since it represented the disappearance of earth’s primary celestial light, the nexus of two worlds: the world of the day, where most people were now preparing for sleep and the world of the night, where the criminal element prepared for something else.

And that was what he was preparing for.

He looked down at the bustling intersection below. His new office was on the top floor of a two-story building that had stood on this corner in downtown Cuernavaca for over a hundred years. Retail shops filled the lower level, but his floor had been abandoned for decades.

Rubbing his eyes, De Leon pondered for a moment the sequence of events that had brought him here.

I can retire early, collect a pension and start a business of my own! I have the talent to be an excellent private investigator. Less hassle and stress to deal with, and I can set my own hours and dictate my own income.

Although barely in his fifties, he could tell that being a captain in the Mexican military was destroying his health. Six months ago he had injured his leg in the pursuit of Jose Padilla Madrid. The doctors said he was fully recovered - at least physically.

Despite the many awards and accolades for a job well done, he had more personal concerns. He had always maintained a spotless reputation, but it seemed like he was always looking over his shoulder at those who worked around him. He knew the inevitable day was coming when he was going to call it quits.

That day had finally arrived.

His many years of service in the Mexican military had allowed him to build up a very large network of people he could turn to for information. And as a retired government employee, he had access to facilities that the average citizen did not. He was a natural at ferreting out information and following a trail. He was confident that he would succeed in his new business venture.

It was his wife, Miranda, who had found this building and approached the owner with an offer he couldn’t refuse. Cuernavaca was the perfect compromise between Guadalajara and Mexico City, places where De Leon had many resources. De Leon and his wife had sunk their entire savings into this office and in a modest house close by, confident that everything would work out.

He stepped carefully over electrical cords and drop cloths, his slight limp reminding him of the troubles he had left behind. The computer technician approached the ex-captain with an expectant look on his face.

“All finished?” De Leon asked.

“Si, Senor.”

De Leon pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and carefully counted out a few bills. “Here you go, with a little extra. Buy the guys some cervezas.”

The technician smiled appreciatively. “Gracias, Senor!” He whistled to his workers, and they disappeared from the building.

The other contractors had already left. He had power in the front office and reception area but would have to wait until tomorrow to get any in the back rooms. The computer technicians had wired everything to be ready for that. Gustavo walked into the empty back portion of his office and looked at the line of computers. Everything was in order.

His cell phone rang; it was Miranda. “Almost finished?”

“Just locking up to come home my dear.”

He hung up and heaved a sigh as he looked at the chaotic mess that would soon be the smoothly functioning office of a private investigator. He flipped on the only working light in the front waiting room and grabbed a flashlight. Methodically he checked all the windows, making sure they were locked secure for the night. All was quiet in the rooms except for the din of the evening traffic as cars passed by.

As he crossed the waiting room, he heard the clanging of footsteps on the metal staircase.

What did you forget this time, Paco? He thought.

He looked around, trying to see what the forgetful electrician had left behind. His search was interrupted by a frantic knocking on his door.

“Hold on,” Gustavo yelled as he picked his way through the construction mess by flashlight. The knocking became louder and more frantic. “I said hold on!” he shouted.

Reaching the door, he turned on the outside light and glanced through the peephole. It wasn’t Paco. It was someone he didn’t recognize. Opening the door slightly, he spoke to a short, heavy man who had knocked so frantically.

“And who are you sir?” De Leon asked.

“Please, Senor, you must help me!” the man wailed in a high-pitched voice.

“What seems to be the matter? Was there an accident?”

“No, no,” the man replied. “I need your professional help! I have come to seek your services. Mr. De Leon, please, I beg of you, it is very important.”

“You are looking for my services?” De Leon asked with a surprised look on his face. “I won’t be open for business until next week.”

The man held his hands cupped together as he pleaded. “Please, something horrible has occurred. Please, Mr. De Leon, please! I need your help now! This is a matter of great urgency!”

“Can’t it wait for a couple of days? My office isn’t even fully functional.”

“What I have to tell you cannot wait! No, not for one second more! If we do not do something quick, there will be national consequences for Mexico.”

Despite the fact that the stranger was sounding more and more like a madman, Gustavo could tell that nothing short of physical violence would get him off the doorstep.

“Fine, come on in.”

The stranger smiled with relief as he quickly walked in. “Thank you sir,” he gushed. “Thank you very much. May God bless you for your kindness.”

Gustavo pulled off the protective sheets from the waiting room furniture and directed the stranger to sit on a couch. Rummaging through a box, he removed a small voice recorder and placed it on the table next to the couch. He then moved his office chair in order to face the stranger.

After speaking a quick introduction into the recorder, De Leon turned again to the stranger. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

The stranger wrung his hands nervously as he attempted to talk. “Oh, Mr. De Leon, I don’t know where to begin! You see, a great theft has occurred! Oh my, just to think of it I tremble. Mexico is in trouble!”

Gustavo held up his hand, stopped the recording, and rummaged around in a nearby box for a bottle of tequila and a shot glass. After carefully filling the shot glass, he handed it to his client. “Drink this, you need it.”

The stranger downed the fiery liquid in one gulp. He coughed and sputtered, but some color returned to his face. Gustavo poured another round, which the stranger swallowed as quickly as the first.

“Okay, now relax, just relax and tell me your story. How could Mexico be in more trouble than it already is? First let’s start with your name.”

The stranger closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Okay, I will start from the beginning.”

“No better place to start,” Gustavo joked.

“My name is Octavio Mendoza. I am a pharmacist by trade. I owned a few pharmacies in Mexico City, so needless to say, I became rather wealthy. Unfortunately my marriage was not as successful and I divorced a couple of years ago. I then faced two choices: to increase my pharmaceutical business or do something completely different in life. Once free of marital obligations, I decided to take a different course, something more challenging than operating a chain of stores.

“I chose to become a real estate broker. I hoped that occupation would open up wonderful opportunities not only to make money and travel, but to perhaps meet someone new, a woman with whom I could share my life.

“A few months later, I was wheeling and dealing in high-end real estate. I specialize in the purchase and resale of mansions for the rich and famous. One day I was informed that there was going to be a gala festival, a place where all the successful real estate agents in Mexico were going to meet. I figured this would be a great opportunity to network and make more business contacts.

“Little did I know that this meeting would drastically change my life and set in motion the series of events that would have dire consequences for Mexico!”

Chapter Two

“It was there that I met a man named Antonio Barrios. Mr. Barrios seemed to have a good head for business. He specialized in distress sales and auctions. One thing led to another and we started doing business together. He would advise me when an excellent piece of property was to become available, offering me the advantage of pre-bidding the property before it went on the market.

“I asked him if he knew of any real estate for my personal use, preferably in Merida. He had just come into possession of a beautiful estate which had been owned by Marie Sova.”

De Leon arched an eyebrow. “You mean the wife of the famous Mayanist, Dr. Rene Sova?”

Octavio nodded. “Indeed, she was. Her husband was missing, presumed dead, and she wanted out of Mexico. Arrangements were made for me to see it. I fell in love with it instantly. It is a large estate; exquisitely beautiful.

“Even better was that she had sold everything to Mr. Barrios - the furniture, the wine cellar, everything! Her only stipulation in the contract was that the three helpers, Jose, Lucio, and an older gentleman by the name of Miguelito, would stay and look after the house as long as it stood. I had to have that house. After agreeing to a fair price, I bought it from my business partner, and we opened a fantastic bottle of French wine to celebrate the occasion.

“You may find it unbelievable, but I hadn’t even thoroughly inspected the house. One room, in fact, was still locked. Fortunately, the key was on the ring Mrs. Sova had given Barrios. It was the study of Dr. Sova himself! I don’t know how much you know about the man, Mr. De Leon, but I had read his book about the Mayan mystery and it was evident by all the books, computers, and drawings that this was the room where he had deciphered the meaning of the Mayan hieroglyphs, leading to the discovery of King Chac’s remains!”

Octavio abruptly ended his narrative and sat silently, staring at his hands. De Leon waited patiently. After a few moments, Octavio took a deep breath and continued. “Then I saw a familiar-looking desk at one corner of the study.”

“Familiar? How?” Gustavo inquired.

Octavio shook his head and clenched his fists. “I should never have mentioned it in Antonio’s presence. It was just like a desk that my grandmother had, one with a secret drawer. Sure enough, after hitting the side of the desk a wooden handle came down, and after pulling that a drawer came out. And in the drawer was a scroll.

“At first I couldn’t figure out what it was. In one corner was the plan of a courtyard of Mayan pyramids. The rest of the scroll contained a large group of Mayan hieroglyphs. At the bottom, however, was a phrase written in Spanish, El Tesoro del Rey Maya! The Treasure of the Mayan King. It was a treasure map, Mr. De Leon! Mrs. Sova must not have known about it, otherwise she would never have let it remain in the house when she sold it. If I could see what it was, so could Barrios. He smiled at me and asked, “What are we going to do about this?” “We? There is no “we,” this scroll is mine, it came as part of the house!” But he would have none of that.

“He made a good argument: I would need help to translate the document. ‘If we find this we will be millionaires, we will be rich beyond our wildest dreams!’ I told him we couldn’t plunder the national property of Mexico. He said ‘We don’t have to take all of it Octavio, just a small finder’s fee.’ I knew then that I wouldn’t be able to leave him out. Well, the next day he introduced me to an archaeological appraiser named Raul Martinez. Martinez had an extensive knowledge of indigenous antiquities and a working knowledge of the Mayan language. The two of them, Barrios and Martinez, came daily to study and examine the scroll. You can be sure that I watched them like a hawk! I never left them alone with the scroll, not even for a moment.