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“This wasn’t what I was expecting,” she said, and stepped back so that Antonio and Maribela could see inside. Lazlo approached and looked over their shoulders as they played their lights over the interior.

“This is another first. I’ve never seen a mass burial in a temple like this. How many skeletons are there?” Maribela asked. Antonio counted quietly in Spanish.

“A dozen. But look at how they’re dressed,” he said as he took a tentative step down the single stair into the temple. Maribela followed him in, trailed by Lazlo. Sam and Remi nodded to each other and joined them. The chamber was larger than it had looked from the outside—at least twenty feet square. The skeletons sat against the walls as though waiting for something. Each had on a chain-mail tunic, and several had Viking helmets sunk over their skulls, decayed teeth grinning into eternity, swords and battle-axes by their sides.

“Look! There,” Remi said, pointing to several objects near the entry stairs. She trained her flashlight on the long wooden trough and the tools near it. “That’s where the mortar came from.”

“Bloody hell. They walled themselves in,” Lazlo exclaimed.

Nobody spoke as the weight of what they were seeing sank in. There was no way of knowing how many of the skeletons belonged to men who had been alive when the doorway had been sealed, but the tools were ample evidence that at least one, and probably more, had lived long enough to complete his grim work before spending his final time on Earth trapped in his own tomb.

“Look at the pictographs. They’re cruder. But look at what they’re portraying,” Remi said, gazing above the assembled bodies at the carvings.

A bearded warrior, part snake, part bird, was slaying a group of men attacking a small temple. Above the peak, a cloud hovered. The imagery was grizzly: the bodies hacked apart, several beheaded. Lightning bolts blazed from the warrior’s eyes, setting fire to the surroundings, where still more figures burned in the flames.

“Not terribly cheery, is it?” Lazlo whispered. “Bit Armageddon for my taste. Still, the message is clear.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll take it as a warning to anyone who tries to breach the temple.”

“Like we have,” Remi said.

Everyone was quiet until Antonio moved back toward the doorway. “It’s getting dark. We should gather our things and have the police guard this overnight. I’ll speak to them about it.”

“I’m not ready to leave yet. Let’s get the portable work lamps from the trucks and set them up,” Remi said.

“But there’s nothing that can’t wait until morning,” Maribela protested.

“I’m not tired. If the guards are going to be here all night, I see no reason we can’t work through the night, too. It wouldn’t be the first time. The batteries should last at least that long.”

Sam gave Antonio a weary look. “You heard the lady. I just follow orders.”

“I don’t understand what the urgency is. We can just come back tomorrow. Everyone will still be dead,” Maribela said.

Remi glanced at Sam. “There’s more at stake here than just the temple.”

“What do you mean?” Antonio asked.

“Somewhere inside may be the Eye of Heaven. Left for the returning Vikings so they could claim their position as the leaders of the indigenous people of Mexico.”

Maribela blinked in astonishment. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t want to say anything until we found the site.”

“Then where is it?” Maribela asked. “The Eye of Heaven?”

Sam shrugged. “That’s the problem. The language isn’t specific. ‘Beneath the temple’ is all the rune stone said. Which could mean below us in a chamber or vault, or in a cave somewhere down the cliff, or buried in some hidden corner of the temple. For all we know, there are more clues in these pictographs. Nothing about this has been straightforward and I see no reason to believe it will be from here on out.”

Remi moved into the center of the space. “Which brings us back to our sense of urgency and desire for secrecy. This project has been plagued with problems and we’d rather avoid one out here in the middle of nowhere. The only people who know anything

about this are in this room. But the longer it takes for us to find the jewel, assuming it really exists, the greater the likelihood that something goes wrong.”

Antonio nodded. “I understand. We’ll get the lamps and negotiate with the police to spend the night guarding the area. Tomorrow we can arrange for heavier security while we work—these men will have to go home and, when they do, they might talk, which around here could mean serious problems. Everyone’s aware of the violence that’s been an unfortunate part of the region’s recent history.” Antonio didn’t need to say anything more.

“Not to mention the snakes,” Lazlo added, lightening the mood only slightly.

Half an hour later, the three lamps were in place and one of the officers was sitting outside the temple, his companions back in the SUV, where they could spot approaching vehicles. Lazlo was pacing in front of the entry, scratching his head, as Sam and Remi tapped on the floor, Sam with the handle of his machete, Remi with her flashlight. Antonio and Maribela were taking photographs of the carvings.

Lazlo stopped midstride and stared at the wall. “Sam? I just noticed something.”


Tags: Clive Cussler Fargo Adventures Thriller