What the …?
I reversed course and darted toward him.
The block hurtled down a hidden descending ramp. It passed underneath the slab and slipped into a dark void. Seconds later, it smashed into rock.
The ground shook as I leapt onto the ramp. The slab started to shudder. Too late, I realized it wasn't another plug.
It was a gate.
I sprinted toward the void. But the slab slammed to the ground before I could reach it, cutting me off from Pacho.
I skidded to a halt. "Pacho," I shouted. "Can you hear me?"
There was no response. Frantically, I began pushing the slab, testing it for weaknesses.
Beverly sprinted toward me. "What happened?"
I glanced at Emily. Her eyes looked unfocused. Her fists were covered in blood. My gaze flitted to Miranda. Her face was white. Her eyes were fixed on the trap. Something about the entire situation bothered me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"It's a cage trap," I said. "When the block slid down here, it must've knocked out a support structure. That caused the slab to fall."
"But how'd the block slide so fast?" Beverly asked.
"I think I know." I exhaled a long breath. "It looks like Hunahpu figured out how to use wheels after all."
Chapter 63
"Watch out." A buzzing noise and clouds of dust greeted me as I shoved my way to the front of the crowd.
Graham, protected by safety goggles and a respirator, knelt in front of the slab gate. His gloved hands grasped a small handheld circular saw. The diamond-encrusted blade shrieked as it chewed through the rock. It was making progress. Unfortunately, that progress was far too slow.
"Dutch."
He applied additional pressure to the blade. More dust kicked into the air. It permeated the entire passage.
I waved it away from my face. "Turn it off," I shouted.
He flicked a switch on the circular saw and the blade stopped spinning. His head twisted toward me.
"We need to try something else," I said.
"Like what?"
"Like this." The small crowd parted as Beverly hustled off the stairs. She held a small block of yellow material in one hand and a blasting cap in the other one.
"Is that semtex?" Graham asked.
She nodded. "I would've preferred ammonium nitrate. But this is all Emily brought."
I ran to the slab and pressed my ear against it. I didn't hear anything. Either Pacho was unconscious or the slab was thick enough to block sound.
I cupped my hands around my mouth. "Get back," I yelled at the top of my lungs, "We're going to try to crack this rock open."
Rigoberta stormed down the ramp and grabbed my arm. Her grip felt weak. "You can't do that."
"We don't have a choice," I said.
"But you'll kill him."
"If we don't get him out of there fast, he's dead anyway."
"What are you talking about?"
I pointed at the slab. "It's a nearly airtight fit. His oxygen is probably running out as we speak."
She gave me a helpless look. Then she retreated up the ramp.
"Everyone come with me," Miranda shouted. "Give them space to work."
As the others exited the room, I twisted around and watched Beverly secure a small piece of semtex as well as a blasting cap to the slab. She seemed to have things well in hand.
I studied the trap. The floor block had most likely been outfitted with axles and thick stone wheels. Then it had been carefully balanced on the hidden ramp, with small protruding rocks supporting its far end. The slab, which was far longer than it had first appeared, had been secured inside notches and held aloft by a support structure.
When Pacho had fallen on the block, his extra weight had caused the protruding rocks to break away. The block fell onto the ramp. Aided by gravity and the wheels, it had rolled forward.
As it passed underneath the slab, it had knocked away the support structure. The slab, controlled by the guiding notches, had fallen straight down, trapping him in the room.
It was devilishly simple, yet sturdy as hell. It hadn't depended on ropes or other easily perishable materials. Instead, it had been deliberately constructed to last the test of time.
"I'm ready," Beverly said.
"Get back," I shouted to Pacho one more time for good measure. "And try to get behind something."
Beverly unwound a long wire. It connected the blasting cap to a small device in her hand. I followed her up the ramp and down the steps. We met Graham at the bottom of the staircase.
Graham knelt down and pushed his hands against his ears.
I crouched down and covered my ears as well.
Beverly studied the device. Then she pressed a button. A loud boom split the air. Smoke and dust curled toward us. I didn't bother waiting for the particles to dissipate. Instead, I climbed the steps and ran forward.
Multiple cracks lined the slab. Large chunks of stone had been ripped out of it. But the explosion hadn't destroyed it completely.
"Pacho?" I called out.
When he didn't respond, I dug into the rubble. Beverly and Graham joined me and we started breaking away sections of the fractured slab.
I found a weak spot. Lying down, I kicked at it with both feet. It held firm for the first three blows. Then my right foot crunched through the slab. With Graham's help, I pulled away a giant piece of broken stone. The cage's dark interior appeared.
I started to enter it, but a lack of breathing air slowed me up. Pulling out my flashlight, I aimed it into the cage. Inside, I saw Pacho. He lay motionless on the block. Underneath the block, I caught a glimpse of wheels.
I grabbed Pacho's shoulders. Carefully, I hauled him out of the cage and set him gently on the ramp. Then I removed his respirator.
Dr. Wu appeared. He sprinted to Pacho and checked the man's pulse. His eyes narrowed.
I placed the heel of my right hand on Pacho's chest. Then I put my left hand on top of it and interlaced my fingers. I gave him thirty quick chest compressions.
Dr. Wu tilted Pacho's head back and lifted his chin. After sealing his nose, the doc gave him two rescue breaths and lowered an ear to his mouth.
I gave him thirty more compressions. Dr. Wu gave him two more breaths and rechecked his breathing.
We tried again. And again. And yet again.
Dr. Wu cleared his throat. "I think—"
"Again," I said.
We performed a few more CPR cycles. Then Beverly touched my hands. Gently, she removed them from Pacho's chest.
As I sank onto the ramp, I saw Miranda standing a short distance away. Her eyes were dry. Her face had regained its color. I didn't have to tell her anything. She already knew it.
Jacinto Pacho was dead.
Chapter 64
Miranda didn't like guns. She detested violence. And she'd attended dozens of anti-war marches in her life. She'd never considered herself capable of hurting anyone. But none of that mattered now. Whether she liked it or not, she was a murderer.
Half-dazed, she crawled through the short tunnel. She didn't feel guilty. Instead, she felt strangely numb. It was almost as if Pacho's death meant nothing to her.
Outside the pyramid, she rose to her feet. Rigoberta and Tum tried to comfort her. But she waved them away without a word.
The rain picked up speed. The clouds shifted positions. The sky darkened. A fierce wind sprung up out of nowhere, assailing her cheeks.
Adopting a fast pace, she slogged toward camp. She hadn't meant to kill Pacho. She'd just been so angry at his attempt to betray her. Before she'd known it, she was shoving him toward the cage trap.
Still, she didn't mourn him. Nor did she feel particularly bad about what she'd done. Votan would've killed him anyway.
She walked further. In the distance, she saw a small fire burning in the fire pit. She also saw Pacho's tent.
Over the last few months, Pacho had collected an astonishing amount of evidence against her. Fortunately, he'd kept it to himself. If not, he could've easily ruined her career. And that would've had horrendous consequences for the world.
She climbed out of the marsh and made a beeline for the tent. After checking to make sure no one was watching, she unzipped the flap. Until Votan arrived, she needed to protect herself. And the evidence Pacho had collected gave her a clear motive for killing him. Thus, she needed to dispose of it as quickly as possible.
Then no one would ever suspect what she'd done.
Chapter 65
This place really is hell.
I stabbed my shovel into the ground. Removed some dirt. Tossed it over my shoulder.
Rain splashed me as I repeated the process several more times. Gradually, the hole deepened.
Tum and Renau approached me with shovels. I waved them off. My back started to ache as I returned to work. My legs felt sore. My feet begged for a rest. But I kept digging.
Loud squelching noises caught my attention. "How're you holding up?" Graham asked in a gravelly voice.
I didn't bother turning around. "I'm fine."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I know." I rammed the shovel into the muddy earth. "It's just …"
"What?"
"I should've saved him." I climbed out of the hole. "It just happened so fast."
"Emily's outburst distracted you. It distracted all of us."
"Maybe."
He glanced at the hole. "I never really understood burials."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"It's not just the burial." He scrunched up his brow. "It's the whole deal … the coffin, the grave goods, the gravestone, the ceremony."
I stared at him, puzzled.
"Ritual burial practices go back thousands of years. Hell, even the Neanderthals had their rituals. They buried some of their dead with animal bones, tools, and other things. Lot of good it did them." He shrugged. "Most rituals probably started as an afterlife thing. You know, bury the dead with stuff they could take to the next world. But today, I think it's more about the ritual than anything else."
"And the mourning." I glanced at Pacho's corpse. It was wrapped tightly in a blanket and sealed with several layers of duct tape. "What's your point?"
"Blaming yourself for deaths you didn't cause is a ritual too, in a way. I guess it's how we make sense of an uncertain world. You're not the first to do it and you won't be the last."
"Go away, Dutch."
"But I was just—"
"Go away."
Graham turned on his good leg and hobbled back to camp. Meanwhile, I gathered Pacho's body in my arms and placed it into the hole.
"Cy?"
I gritted my teeth. "Yeah?"
"Dutch told me you weren't in the mood to talk." Emily paused. "But I wanted to say I'm—"
"Don't say it." I grabbed the shovel. "What happened to you in the pyramid?"
"I need to show you something." She pulled a large book out from under her coat. Shielding it from the rain, she opened it up.
The pages showed an old birth certificate, three photos, and several sections of scrawled handwriting. "I remember this," I said. "You were reading it on the helicopter."
"It's my family's history." She paused. "More specifically, it's my family's medical history."
I gave her an inquisitive look.
"I've got an unidentified genetic disorder. I've traced it back eleven generations so far. Generally speaking, the symptoms include rising amounts of agitation, confusion, and hallucinations. The hallucinations are the worst. They crop up during times of stress." She took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, none of my ancestors who displayed my symptoms survived past the age of forty."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I came to terms with it a long time ago." She glanced at the pyramid. "The disease is the reason I came here."
I stared at her.
"I'm not naive enough to think the ancient Mayas knew about genetic disorders." She cracked a smile. "But the Library of the Mayas will contain cures for many other diseases. I figure bringing it to light is a worthy way to spend my last few years."
"You should talk to Dutch. He owns a cryonics company named CryoCare."
"Cryonics?"
"It's a crude form of suspended animation. Essentially, his scientists attempt to preserve life at extremely low temperatures. The idea is to bridge the gap between now and a time when current diseases can be cured."
"Does it really work?"
"The science is sound. But until someone is actually revived, no one knows for sure."
Her look turned thoughtful.
"Ask him about it," I urged. "I'm a client. So is Beverly."
"Maybe I will." She paused. "Well, that's all I wanted to say. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. It's not an easy thing to talk about."
As she walked away, I turned to the northeast. It was nighttime. The clouds soaked up any and all starlight so the area was nearly pitch black. But I could still see the pyramid. It looked like a massive tumor on the otherwise flat marsh.
Deep down, I knew Graham was right. Pacho's death wasn't my fault. Perhaps it was Hunahpu's fault. After all, he'd built the pyramid and constructed the trap. But that didn't seem right either.
Pacho's death replayed in my mind. He'd shot past me at a rapid speed, almost as if he'd been pushed. But who could have done that?
Miranda.
Memories swirled in my brain. Miranda was the only person who'd been close enough to push him. She could've used Emily's hallucinatory outburst as a cover. But why would she want to hurt Pacho? As far as I knew, he was one of her most trusted assistants.
I scooped up some soil. Then I tossed it onto Pacho's corpse.
The smart thing to do was to keep my head down and finish the excavation as quickly as possible. Then I could fly away from the cursed canyon and put everything behind me.
But I felt nearly certain Miranda had taken a life. And there was no way I could turn my back on that.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this." I stared at Pacho's corpse until my eyes hurt. "You've got my word."
Chapter 66