Cholula, Mexico
(76 miles southeast of Mexico City)
They arrived in Cholula after dark, which was fine with them since they realized that several laws might have to be broken in order to complete their adventure. Even Ulster, a straight-laced academic who felt more guilt over parking tickets than some people did over felonies, was willing to concede that a thorough search couldn’t be done during daylight hours. Not only was Our Lady of Remedies a major tourist attraction, drawing thousands of visitors a week, his involvement was bound to draw attention from INAH and the Catholic Church, both of which would impede their investigation for several weeks. In the world of archaeology, Ulster learned long ago that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than it was to get permission.
Patrolled by a police equestrian unit, the single road that led to the church was well guarded. It forced them to abandon the SUV Boyd had provided more than a quarter of a mile from the complex. After breaching the security fence that encircled the Cholula Archaeological Site, Payne led the way up the side of the mound. The group marvelled at the topography and the natural feel of the grass. In the daylight, the illusion would have been shattered by all of the layers of the pyramid that had been exposed for exhibits, but at night, the reality was concealed by darkness. To them it seemed as though they were climbing a normal hill.
No words were spoken until they reached the courtyard outside the church. Payne whispered instructions to Jones, who hustled into the shadows with lock picks in hand. Less than five minutes later, Jones opened the door from inside the church. Years ago, this would have produced applause and congratulations. Now it was merely routine. No longer amazed by his abilities, Payne and Maria walked past him as if he were holding the door of a restaurant open for them, and Ulster did the same. Hamilton was somewhat impressed, but he was too worried about being caught to say anything out loud. Instead, he simply nodded to express his thanks.
Jones shook his head in frustration. ‘Tough crowd.’
Familiar with the sixteenth-century structure because of her research on the plane, Maria led the way towards the main part of the church. Having seen several pictures of the nave and altar in Boyd’s file, she couldn’t wait to see them in person. Her pace was so energized that the rest of the group struggled to keep up, until she stopped in the centre of the main aisle to take it all in. As expected, the interior of the church was breathtaking. The entire nave, made of local stone and decorated with 24-carat gold leaf, seemed to sparkle in the dim glow of the recessed lights above the altar. Everywhere she looked, she saw gold – lustrous and brilliant, even in the faintest of light. For a brief moment, her heart sank when she considered a possibility that hadn’t crossed her mind until that very instant. What if the Mercados had melted the Aztec gold to decorate the interior of the church? What if the treasure had been in plain sight all along?
Ulster sensed her concern. He walked over and whispered reassurance in her ear. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, the walls are merely gilded. The treasure is somewhere else.’
She was taken aback. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’
He smiled. ‘Because I was thinking it myself.’
With that, Ulster continued towards the altar.
She was ready to join him when she felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned and saw Hamilton. He was standing with his backpack in his hands and a strange look upon his face, as if he had something he needed to say. ‘Are you all right?’ Maria asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes, Maria, I’m fine. It’s just, there’s something I need to give you. I wanted to give it to you much earlier – I swear I did – but Charles made me promise to wait until we were inside the church. You know Charles and his crazy schemes. He claims he has a reason for everything, although half the time I don’t know what that reason is.’
‘Trust me, I know the feeling.’
‘Yes, I hoped you would.’
Wasting no time, Hamilton sat in a nearby pew and unzipped the backpack he’d been carrying with him since Mérida. He reached inside and pulled out a hard plastic case that had been custom-fitted to protect a gold medallion that had once belonged to Marcos de Mercado. Just four days earlier, the medallion had been locked away in a secret vault belonging to Hector Garcia. Familiar with its history, he had been searching for the Mercado treasure for years, but had been unable to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Unwilling to sell the item for any amount, Garcia was forced to trade the medallion for the safe return of his children, a price most parents would be willing to pay. In the end, Garcia also paid with his life.
Hamilton was aware of none of that. He knew nothing about the kidnappings, the bombs at Zócalo, or the millions of dollars of dirty money that would end up in the bank accounts of the CIA. All Hamilton had been told was that Boyd had acquired the medallion from a private collector and, due to confidentiality agreements, the item should never be discussed in public. After witnessing the violence at Chichén Itzá, Hamilton assumed they had acquired the item through illicit means, but at that point he figured it was too late to do anything about it.
Maria stared at the medallion. In the dim light of the church, it was tough to see all the details that had been carved into the gold. The one thing she did notice was a small, rectangular slot through the centre of the artefact. ‘What is it?’
Hamilton explained. ‘This medallion was handcrafted by a Spanish artisan in the late 1500s. He made it from a detailed design that we found in the journal of Marcos de Mercado, who claimed the medallion was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the New World. On the front, there is an etching of the Death Relic symbol that I showed to you in Mérida. It is surrounded by several smaller glyphs of mixed origins. A few are Mayan, a few are Aztec and a few are from the other indigenous tribes in Mesoamerica.’
She turned on her flashlight and studied the front surface of the medallion. She had never seen an object quite like it. ‘What do the glyphs say?’
‘Unfortunately, we just acquired the medallion yesterday. Charles immediately sent me a series of photographs, which I have been trying to decipher ever since. As far as I can tell, the glyphs say the same thing over and over again: “Death protects the treasure.” ’
‘Death protects the treasure? What does that mean?’
‘That, I’m afraid, is the riddle you must solve.’
‘Me? Why me? Why do I have to solve it?’
He smiled to ease her anxiety. ‘Look around you, Maria. We are inside Our Lady of Remedies, a historic Catholic Church. Your area of expertise is the history of Christianity. Who better to solve the riddle than you?’
She took a deep breath. ‘When you put it like that …’
He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Maria. I am confident in your abilities. If I didn’t think you could do it, do you really think I would have allowed you to join the team? As I told you in Cancún, the task that we hired you for is right up your alley. Now all you have to do is think.’
Maria thanked him for the information, then asked to be left alone for a few minutes so she could gather her thoughts on the subject. Hamilton quietly slipped out of the pew to give her the privacy she needed. Before long, he was gathering the others to explain everything he had told her about the medallion. Although most of the burden had been placed on Maria’s shoulders, Hamilton realized it would be foolish to keep the rest of the team in the dark about such an important clue. Unlike Boyd, who wanted Maria to be the one to solve the puzzle, Hamilton didn’t care who found the prize as long as it was one of them.