CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Night had settled on the valley, the still air slowly cooling from being superheated during the day. Taylor slipped behind the wheel of the rental Jeep, and Adolfo climbed in beside her. She pulled out from the curb, the gold-plated artifacts jiggling about in the rear compartment as the Jeep bounced over the cobblestones. She could feel the air cool as they climbed the windy road toward Monte Alban. It was after midnight, and they were the only vehicle on the lonely road. The moon was bright in the sky, midway between first quarter and full.

Taylor reached a bend close to the top of the road and stopped. “You know what to do?” she asked Adolfo.

“Sí. I park, then go to the guards. I show them my papers. Manuel Sanchez, Director of Antiquities from Mexico City. Then I tell them I want to run the site.”

“Walk, Adolfo. You want to walk the site with them.”

“Sí sí. I know. I will not make such mistakes when speaking Spanish. Only English.” He looked hurt that she had corrected him.

“Lo siento,” she said. “I’m sorry. Of course you’ll do well.”

“Yes. I’ll do well. I walk with the guards for fifteen minutes. Then everything is fancy.”

She didn’t bother correcting him. “And how do you explain showing up so late at night?”

“That it is normal for me to check out the night security at archeological sites.”

“Good. Okay, now you drive.” She jumped in the back of the Jeep and pulled the tarp over her. It was dark and the tarp smelled of mold. When Adolfo pulled ahead and began the final leg to the ruins, she was thrown about like a marble in a can. She grabbed whatever she could that was welded to the frame and hung on. The drive was mercifully short, and once he had parked she let go of her handholds and adjusted the tarp so she could breathe fresh air. They had only been parked for a few moments when she heard voices. She felt the Jeep rock slightly as Adolfo got out to meet the men. There was an exchange, then silence. The next voice was Adolfo’s, and there was a definite tone of authority to it. A couple of minutes later, the group moved away from the Jeep, their voices diminishing as the distance increased.

Taylor waited until she was sure they were down by the ball court and out of eyesight. She lifted the tarp and peeked out. Nothing. Just wide open sky, alive with stars. As she dragged the burlap bag containing the fake treasure from the back of the vehicle, it struck her that the scene she was looking at, with the exception of the parking lot and the museum, was the same as the Zapotec Indians would have seen two thousand years ago. It was an eerie feeling.

She hoisted the bag over her shoulder and trudged to the extreme north end of the complex. It was heavy, and she struggled under the weight. The path was a wavy narrow line in the light from the half-moon. Walking on the worn rocks was slower going than when the sun was out, and the cracks and loose pebbles were visible. It took far too long to reach the entrance to the cave. When she came to the spot, she was shaking from the stress of picking her way along what was a glorified goat path with an awkward burlap sack. She laid the sack on the ground and drank from the water bottle she had hooked onto her belt before leaving the hotel. The cool water felt good on her throat.

It took her a full six minutes, maybe more, to dislodge the small rock from the opening to the cave. Then, one piece at a time, she slid the artifacts into the darkness. She crawled through and pulled the flashlight from her back pocket. It was sufficient to light the room so she could see to walk. She moved the treasure into the small alcove at the back of the cave and positioned the pieces atop a jumble of loose rocks. Then she ripped the seam on the burlap bag and laid it around the pieces, giving the impression that the entire mound inside the enclosed space could be treasure. She shone the light over it from every angle possible at the opening, then made a few adjustments until she had it exactly as she wanted. One last look and she left, dragging the rock back into place and securing it so it was impossible to tell there was an opening. Then she hurried back to the Jeep.

She heard the voices before she reached the parking lot. Adolfo and the guards had already returned and were standing beside the Jeep. The first thing she noticed was that Adolfo had positioned himself so that he was facing her and the guard’s backs were to her. She raised her head and shoulders above a boulder, partially exposed for a few moments. They were talking, but the moment she came into sight, he made a waving motion with his hand, as if gesturing to make a point. She got the idea. He wanted her to get moving down the mountain. She turned and skirted the farthest edge of the parking lot, then started down the road. After a couple of turns she stopped and slid behind a large rock. She didn’t have long to wait. In less than five minutes, headlights appeared. The vehicle was moving very slowly, the driver scanning both sides of the road. It was Adolfo. She slipped out from behind the rock and he stopped.

“Good work,” she said, grabbing his shoulder and then leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Very good, Adolfo.”

He grinned at the kiss. “Yes. Tonight, I am good. Everything is fine.”

“Everything go okay with the guards?”

“Yes. To them, I am Manuel Sanchez, Director of Antiquities.”

“Excellent.”

They drove back to the hotel, Adolfo careful on the night roads. The streets in Oaxaca City were mostly deserted, save for an occasional stray dog padding down the dark streets, searching out anything edible. Adolfo pulled in by the hotel and locked the Jeep. The desk clerk stopped them as they passed through the lobby and handed Taylor a message. She thanked him and headed to her room. Once inside her room and behind the locked door, she unfolded the paper and read the contents. It was a phone message from Ricardo. Sorry, can’t meet you as planned. Had to fly out to Puerto Vallarta. Talk to you soon. Taylor set the message on the worn wooden table next to the bed and lay on her back on top of the sheets.

Everything was working. Kelly was at his computer in D.C., creating the screenplay for his actors. Somehow, he had crafted a story believable enough for Ricardo to get the invite to Puerto Vallarta. Adolfo was proving his worth, distracting the guards while she snuck into the cave and arranged the fake treasure. He had kept the guards focused to the south, so when she appeared on the northern edge of the plateau, she was only visible to him. Smart fellow. If that were any indication of his abilities, she was confident he would hold his own when finally under Brand’s scrutiny.

She was in Oaxaca City, poised and ready. She liked her part in the game, coordinating everyone’s movements—knowing every detail the moment it arose. She was more than ready to risk the treacherous mountainside and light the fire that would distract the guards. Anything to get the bastard.

Ricardo was on his way to meet with Edward Brand. That meeting was crucial. If Ricardo wasn’t able to sell Brand on the deal, they were done. But if he could, Edward Brand would move into the trap. She stared at the ceiling, a lazy smile on her face.

Soon. Very soon.