The Eye of Heaven by Clive Cussler
“I . . . I didn’t think . . .”
Janus’s explanation was like a blow to Reginald’s face. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said. You didn’t think. At all. If you had, you would have spoken with me and I would have explained why your idiotic scheme was dangerous and stupid. I would have arranged to have the cartel execute the raid without you there, with us merely on the receiving end of the goods. If they were successful, with no expectation of immediate financial gain on our part.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is that I know these parasites and they’ll want their money. They won’t be interested in why it could take several years for this to cool down. Which, because I’m their partner now, I’ll have to cover or risk their ire. So, you dim fool, you’ve not only exposed us both to considerable danger, now and in the future, but you’ve also cost me a pretty penny, which I may or may not ever recover.”
“But we have—”
“Hell’s bells, Reginald! We have nothing. Los Zetas have a bunch of trinkets we won’t be able to market and whose very existence endangers you. We have customers who will now believe they’re our partners in crime. We have an ongoing risk that one or all of them is eventually arrested and gives you up in exchange for leniency. And guess what? Most places in the world will extradite a mass murderer, you bloody imbecile.”
“But I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Your word against theirs. Do you want to protest it while rotting in a Mexican jail? I simply can’t understand how you thought this was a good idea.”
“Well, it’s done and there’s no undoing it,” Reginald said, arms folded over his chest, his tone truculent.
“I can’t believe I allowed you into my affairs. Really. You don’t have any idea what you’re doing and yet you still think you’re the smartest chap in the room. Unbelievable.”
“See, Janus? This is exactly the kind of thing I’m getting sick of. You dressing me down like a schoolboy.”
“You’re getting sick of it?” Janus took a series of deep breaths, his hands shaking with rage, his pulse pounding in his ears like a bass drum. He willed his heartbeat slower. “Reginald, you’ve embarked us on a disastrous course. And, worse, you still don’t know what the Fargos are really up to.”
“What do you mean ‘up to’?”
“They’re still here. In Mexico City. And I have it on good authority they’re back at the site. Which doesn’t sound like predictable behavior if they’d found their treasure and were calling it a day, does it?”
“But there’s nothing left except for that old stiff. Maybe they’re gathering their equipment or having a last look before buzzing off?”
“Perhaps. Of course, if you hadn’t gone on a rampage, we’d still be watching and waiting with the advantage ours. Now they’re warned and are sure to be even more cautious. A dangerous state of affairs.”
Reginald lit one of his cigarettes before moving to the bar to pour himself a healthy slug of Scotch. He downed it in two swallows and turned to face his brother.
“I’m sorry, Janus. I just thought I could surprise you . . .”
“You’ve certainly surprised me, that’s for sure,” Janus spat and then shook his head. “Call Guerrero. I want to meet with my new partner as soon as possible to discuss our options moving forward.”
TEOTIHUACAN, MEXICO
The area around the Temple of the Moon had been closed off by the police and yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze as Lazlo and the Fargos neared the smaller pyramid next to it. The authorities looked to be finishing up their investigation, the bodies long since hauled to the morgue, any evidence already collected. The remaining officers stood around chatting. The excitement was over and they simply were running out the clock until the end of their shift.
Maribela approached as Remi was explaining their presence to two uniformed police standing sentry by the entry, a gap in the tape, and after a few terse words they were admitted. She led them to the research tent, where a dejected Antonio was sitting on a collapsible blue camp chair, his students sent home that morning after they’d arrived at what was now a war zone.
“Ah, there you are. The police are just winding things up. Shouldn’t be long now and then we can go in and survey the damage. I’m having the mummy carefully removed today to keep the jade intact and taken to the Institute for further study. Seems safer to have everything out of the crypt in case someone sees the news articles and thinks there may be some easy money in selling Quetzalcoatl’s remains on the black market to the highest bidder.”
Sam nodded. “Probably best. So now there’s just the empty chamber?”
“Yes. Of course, the chamber itself is historically significant, as are the carvings, but they’re not portable. We can arrange to have a locked gate installed over the next few days. That’s what many of the other areas have and it seems to work.”
“What about security at night?” Lazlo asked.
“We’ll have a small contingent of soldiers, but there’s nothing left to steal, so it’s purely for show. I’ll arrange for a construction crew to erect the gate tomorrow and we’ll only need the site security after that.”
“Which is what, exactly?” Remi asked. “The security, I mean?”
“A few cars, golf carts, and six men at night. Teotihuacan is a big area to patrol and they mainly spend their time making sure there’s no vandalism. Their presence is more a deterrent than anything else.”
“They didn’t discover the dead soldiers?”
“No, they’d been told by the Army to stay out of their way so they wouldn’t get shot by accident. The site was under military control. Not that it did a lot of good.”
“Any leads on who did this?” Lazlo asked.
“None they’re sharing. I’m just an academic who roots around in dirt for a living. Nobody tells me anything,” Antonio complained.
“Well, that’s about to change. But let’s wait until everyone leaves, shall we?” Remi said.
Maribela and Antonio looked at her strangely.
“Is this the sonar?” Sam asked, standing by two black Anvil road cases emblazoned with Fragile.
“Yes. That one is the monitor and sensor units and the other is the tricycle contraption.”
“I haven’t seen one of these in a while,” Sam said as he opened the cases.
“They used them on some of the other locations. But the range is limited. The Muon detectors are more effective.”
“Still, it will penetrate, what, thirty to forty feet and give reasonably accurate readings? I recall those are the specs.”
“Of course. But it will be going back tomorrow. I told them not to bother sending out the operator. A delivery truck will be by in the afternoon to pick it up.”
Sam and Lazlo exchanged a conspiratorial look. “That should be more than enough time.”
“Time? For what?” Maribela asked, edging closer.
“I’ll fill everyone in once the police have cleared out and it’s just us,” Sam said, then returned to examining the device, Lazlo beside him, the pair exchanging hushed whispers.
Antonio turned to Remi, who just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I married a crazy man.”
The Federales departed at six-fifteen, when a jeep with six armed soldiers arrived—the night shift, who were understandably on edge after their predecessors’ fate. The men gripped their weapons nervously, on alert but with no obvious threats to defend themselves against.
As dusk fell and the pyramids’ shadows lengthened, Sam pulled up a camp chair and faced Antonio and Maribela while Lazlo and Remi perused the latest images from the vault. He took them through his suspicions and he told them what he wanted to do: use the sonar to perform a clandestine search for another chamber while nobody was around.
“I want to do it this way to avoid any leaks. There were far too many people here when we found this site. Somebody talked. The only way to ensure a secret stays a secret is to keep it between us.??
“You really believe there could be another chamber?” Maribela asked in disbelief.
“It’s a possibility. One I don’t want to overlook. And it seems we have the perfect chance to work with the sonar without an audience tonight. Let’s do it. If we don’t find anything, it’s only an evening of our lives. But if we do . . . I just don’t want to get on a plane and fly out of here not knowing.”
Antonio nodded. “How do you want to do this?”
“We’ll get the sonar unit down into the crypt and I’ll push it along,” Sam said. “Any cavities beneath the surface will show up as interruptions of the normal pattern on the scope. It’s fairly simple detection but should do for our purposes.”
The system comprised a folding stand with a single wheel on the front and two in the back, like a modified baby stroller. An operator console with a screen rested at chest level in front of the handlebars, with the sonar detection array suspended just above the ground near the front wheel. The soldiers watched them with mild curiosity as they pushed the assembled cart to the dirt ramp. Antonio stopped and chatted with them, explaining that they were conducting measurements below and not to worry. Nobody seemed interested, and soon Sam was fiddling with the device controls to calibrate the sensitivity.
“See that? Solid earth,” he said, pointing at the screen, which was a sea of static.
“How will we know if it’s not solid? Or if it’s structure?” Remi asked.
“That’s where the art comes in. It will all depend on the operator’s deft touch.”
They inched slowly along the passageway toward the crypt, and Sam turned knobs as they progressed. Three-quarters of the way to the chamber, he stopped and adjusted the screen.
“What is it?” Maribela asked.
“Looks like something below us. Yes, there’s definitely something there.” He pointed at the screen. “See that? The disturbance in the field? It’s a hollow area. Could be a cave . . . or a tunnel.”
“A cave?” Remi asked.
Antonio nodded. “Yes, much of the city was built above caves. The Pyramid of the Sun, for example, has a naturally occurring cave beneath it that was used for sacred rites.”
“So how do we know whether it’s man-made or natural?”
“Lazlo, would you take the chalk and mark this position? We’ll come back to it later,” Sam said, indicating a tin of yellow powder. Lazlo made an X on the dirt floor, which everyone was careful not to disturb as they continued toward the chamber. Just outside, the floor became stone blocks and Sam had to recalibrate the system again.
They passed over the threshold and carried out a methodical grid search of the tomb area, but there were no more readings like the one in the passageway. After twenty minutes of careful scanning, Sam wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and motioned to the tunnel.
“The only thing I’m picking up is that one anomaly on the way in. That’s it.”
“It didn’t seem that big, did it?” Maribela asked.
“No. No more than a couple of meters.”
“How far below us?” Lazlo asked.
“Looked like maybe two, two and a half meters. We’ll be able to narrow it down once we go over it again,” Sam explained, and then pushed the cart back into the passageway and stopped at the chalk mark on the ground.
“There it is. It’s two meters directly beneath us. Looks irregular—wider than it is long. Could be just about anything, but it’s definitely there if you’re feeling adventurous.”
Remi’s eyebrows rose. “What did you have in mind?”
He studied the image one final time before shutting the system off.
“I was thinking a little exercise might be invigorating.”
Sam, Antonio, and Lazlo grunted as they swung picks at the hardened clay, having hit a rhythm over the half hour they’d been working at it. Twice they’d stopped and cleared away piles of soil, and they were now halfway to whatever awaited them, standing in a hole roughly eight feet square. Remi and Maribela piled the dirt evenly along the wall, to be filled back in once they’d satisfied their curiosity about the mysterious cavity beneath the corridor.
The earth below the men’s feet began to shift and before they could climb out of the pit it gave way. They found themselves falling in a shower of dirt and then landing on a stone floor hard enough to knock the wind out of them. Remi’s voice drifted down to Sam from above.
“Are you all right?”
Sam shook the dirt off and sat up, probing his ribs before calling out to her.
“I think so. Lazlo? Antonio?”
Antonio shifted next to him. “I’m okay. Just . . . stunned.”
“No way to treat guests, I’ll say that much,” Lazlo muttered, brushing dirt off his face.
“I thought we’d have more warning than that before the floor gave way,” Sam said.
“Sometimes it’s an imprecise science, no?”
Sam coughed and looked up. “Remi? Could you toss down some flashlights?”
Sam felt something scuttle across his leg and shivered involuntarily, the snake warnings suddenly not so funny. Above, he heard footsteps and then Remi called out.
“Look out below!”
Three aluminum flashlights landed on the mound of dirt between the men. Remi’s voice echoed off the walls of whatever space they were in. “Well? What’s down there?”
Sam switched on his light and shined it around where he was lying, the air still thick with dust. Seconds went by. “We’re in another tunnel,” he finally said.
Sam waited for her response, and Antonio and Lazlo flicked their beams on as well. The tunnel was eight to ten feet wide and stretched into the gloom.
“Hang on, then. I’m coming down,” Remi said. The end of a rope dropped next to Sam and Remi’s slim form descended, accompanied by more loose dirt from the hole.
Sam flashed his light across Remi’s torso. “Nice of you to drop in. What did you tie the rope to?”
“Our mummy friend’s platform. Maribela’s staying up there in case we need help—doesn’t seem like a good idea for all of us to be down here without a sure way to get back up, does it?”
“Maribela?” Antonio called.
“Yes?”
“Can you get the soldiers to bring one of the ladders down? A tall one?”
Sam shook his head. “No. I don’t want anyone but us to know about this yet.”
Antonio nodded and winced from pain in his neck and then looked up at the opening. “Sam’s right. Can you bring the tall aluminum ladder here? It doesn’t weigh much. And some more lights, if possible. But no soldiers. Just you.”
“All right,” she said. Her footsteps echoed down the upper passageway, leaving them with the sound of their breathing and nothing more. Remi’s light played over the walls of the tunnel, and she pointed to their right.
“Do you see that?”
“Yes. Looks like an antechamber of some kind,” Sam said.
“Look at the carvings. They’re Toltec. The same as the ones in the crypt. But these are more exotically detailed.” Remi moved down the tunnel to the stone walls of the larger area. A massive stone frame around the passageway threshold displayed the distinctive pictographs of the crypt above—but carved with considerably greater detail and obvious care. “Here we have the same funeral procession. Same pyramid, but the moon isn’t obstructed by any cloud. And Quetzalcoatl . . . Look! He’s depicted here differently than in any of the others. Here he’s got long hair and a beard.”
“Promising,” Sam said.
She eyed the passageway. “The builders certainly took their time on this, given the length of the tunnel and the detail of these carvings.”
“I wonder what’s down the other way?” Sam asked, looking over his shoulder to where Lazlo had wandered.
“Only one way to know,” Remi replied, and returned to the cave-in spot. She stopped a dozen yards farther along, where Lazlo stood with his flashlight beam playing over a mass of dirt and rocks where the
Lazlo eyed the ruined passage. “Looks like the builders collapsed the tunnel after they were done. They really didn’t want anyone making their way in here, did they?”
Sam studied the debris. “There’s no indentation above. So this was deliberate. They caved it in or filled it and then smoothed out the terrain above so there would be no trace of the entrance.”
They were startled by the clatter of the ladder being lowered by Maribela. Antonio wedged the base into the dirt below and tested it for stability before giving her the go-ahead to descend. She came down using one hand, the other carrying the more powerful battery-powered LED work light they’d used in the crypt above.
The lamp’s harsh white glow illuminated the tunnel like an approaching train, and the siblings quickly joined Sam and Remi in the antechamber. Maribela took it in without comment. Lazlo pushed by them and moved slowly into the chasm. Remi motioned to them and led the way deeper into the subterranean passage, which extended considerably farther, bisecting the tunnel above before turning under the pyramid.
“Hold on. Everybody stop,” Sam said as they neared another bend. The group froze and Remi edged closer to him.
Lazlo looked around, unsure of what to do. “What is it?”
“There. That section of the floor,” he said, pointing to a depression. “I’ve seen that sort of thing before. It’s a booby trap. The Toltecs used reeds or something similar to create a false floor over a pit and then put dirt on top of the matting. Over the centuries, gravity has exerted its pull, but . . .”