The Deadly Curse of Toco-Rey (11 page)

“Exactly. He acquired the journals of José de Carlon and developed the theory that the curse of Toco-Rey might be due to a rare toxin the Oltecas planted in the tomb. He came to me with his idea. I bought into it, and, well, here we are.”

“And you hired Ben Cory and his crew to find the tomb for you.”

“And to unwittingly serve as guinea pigs. They entered the tomb, encountered the toxin, and later went berserk, proving our theory. You can imagine our elation! We had discovered a toxin that had remained dormant for a thousand years but still came to life upon contact with human beings. It is the ideal weapon! It can be stored for years—sealed in shell casings, kept in jars, whatever—and still work when we want it to. But our archaeological team was reduced to raging animals, and we still didn't know exactly where the tomb was. Besides, neither Basehart nor I had any intention of going into the tomb ourselves. So . . .”

“You hired me.”

Manasseh nodded. “And staged the raid on the Cory camp so you wouldn't know our real intentions.”

Dr. Cooper was appalled. “You're a mad man.”

That only amused Manasseh further. “No, just a businessman. Thanks to the Corys, we were able to discover a perfect weapon that could devastate an army, a city, or a nation.” He pointed to a jar on the counter containing a preserved dead carvy. “And thanks to your daughter, who was affected by the toxin and then recovered, we were able to discover the cure. So we now have a product we can sell to the right people for millions. In a way, there's treasure in the burial tomb of Kachi-Tochetin worth far more than the gold.”

Dr. Cooper wasn't entirely impressed. “So what do you intend to do, start a carvy farm?”

Manasseh burst out laughing as if he'd heard a terrific joke. “That's good, doctor! Very good! But let's get to the real discussion here. You want your children, I want your cooperation. Let's cut a deal.”

Jacob Cooper said nothing. He just listened.

Manasseh made his pitch. “We need your expertise in further explorations of the tomb and any other sites that might contain the toxin. We'll harvest the toxin, and any treasure you find, you can keep for yourself. You'll be a millionaire, doctor, overnight—
if
you join us, and
if
you keep our little secret.”

“Assist you in profiting from the deaths of millions of people? You're talking to the wrong man.”

Manasseh only smiled wickedly. “I've heard about your deep moral convictions, Doctor. But I'm willing to wager that your Christian morality can only govern you up to a point. Beyond that, well, as they say, every man has his price.”

“I got my Christian morality from God, and He's a far greater treasure than you could ever offer me. I'm afraid I'll have to decline.” Dr. Cooper raised the gun threateningly. “Now where are my kids?”

Manasseh eyed him a moment, then tested him. “We can throw in an immediate bonus, a little incentive: How about two million dollars—today?”

Dr. Cooper pulled the hammer back. “Where are they?”

“Two
more
million once you've found the tomb and make it accessible.”

Dr. Cooper spoke slowly and clearly. “I strongly suggest you take me to my children.”

Lila and Jay stared into the pit near the burial tomb of Kachi-Tochetin, closely guarded by Armond Basehart and Tomás. The morning sunlight was piercing through the trees and the carvies had returned from their night foraging. There were so many of them that their restful muttering and shuffling echoed out of the pit like the hum of a beehive.

“You gotta be kidding!” said Jay.

“Make no sudden moves or noises, and green carvies can be quite indifferent to your presence,” said Basehart. “Tomás, the ladder.”

Tomás seemed very nervous but obeyed, opening a bundle and removing a long rope ladder.

“Hook it over the wall and lower it down very slowly. Let's not upset our little friends down there.”

Tomás anchored the top end of the ladder to the wall, then let the ladder out one rung at a time, lowering it into the pit. The hum of the carvies stayed steady. So far, so good.

“Why do we have to go down there?” Lila asked.

“Oh, indulge me,” said Dr. Basehart. “One final little experiment. Tomás here insists that green carvies are harmless. We're going to find out if he's right.”

Manasseh seemed to weaken. He'd tried several tempting offers to buy Jacob Cooper's loyalty, but the Christian was unshakable.

“You certainly are a man of conviction.”

“Some things are more important than money,” Dr. Cooper said simply. “Now we can spend the rest of the day in a deadlock or we can bring everything to a conclusion. It's up to you.”

Manasseh thought it over, then nodded. “All right.”

“Where is Dr. Basehart?”

“Actually, he and Tomás went into the ruins at first light to gather some more samples.
I
have your children. They're locked up in a shed in back.”

Dr. Cooper gestured toward the door with his gun. “Let's go.”

Manasseh made his way out under Dr. Cooper's watchful eye. Then he led him around to the back of the trailer where the shed stood, still locked up with a padlock and two slide bolts. “This was rather hurriedly built, I'm afraid. We weren't expecting to house prisoners.”

“Open it up.”

Manasseh took a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock. The two bolts slid easily aside, but the door wouldn't budge when he tugged on the handle. He turned to Dr. Cooper, looking apologetic. “As I said, we put this together rather in a hurry.”

Dr. Cooper stepped closer and grabbed the door handle. With both of them tugging, the door finally jerked open. It was dark inside. He could tell immediately his kids were not—

OOF! Something hit him from behind with tremendous force, hurling him through the door. The shed had no floor and he fell, tumbling head over heels through empty space until he landed with a soft thud. The dust rose up in a cloud around him, choking him, blinding him. He could feel it grating between his teeth, burning in his nose.

Struggling to his feet in the dim light, he blinked his eyes clear and discovered he'd fallen into a pit about eight feet deep. He could hear the voices of Juan and Carlos above, laughing and chattering. “Very good job,” Manasseh told them. “Muy, muy bueno!”

The door slammed shut and the pit went dark except for thin ribbons of light that came through cracks between the boards.

Manasseh had a quick conversation with Juan and Carlos, and then Dr. Cooper could hear the two men walking away. “Sorry to slam the door on you, Dr. Cooper,” Manasseh called from outside. “But we can't let any of that fine green dust escape. The stuff is lethal.”

Jacob Cooper looked around as his eyes adapted to the dim light. The shed was sealed up with clear plastic and the air inside was murky with green dust. It covered the walls of the pit and lay several inches thick on the pit floor. He was covered with it. He could taste it.

And he wasn't alone. A dead man sat in a corner of the pit, his eyes gone, his jaw hanging open, barely recognizable under a thick layer of green mold that covered his entire body.

“Dr. Cooper,” Manasseh called, “may I introduce you to John Cory, the only one of the Cory party we were able to recover and contain. We were lucky enough to find him in the jungle just after he died but before the carvies had a chance to pick his bones clean. And now that Juan and Carlos are gone and we can talk privately, may I also introduce you to the deadly curse of Toco-Rey, that lovely green dust.”

Jacob Cooper looked at himself. He looked as if he'd fallen into green chalk.

“I had to laugh at your question about starting a carvy farm,” said the ruthless weapons dealer. “Carvies aren't worth the trouble. Their poison doesn't drive you crazy, it just kills you. But
this
stuff . . . ! Remember the video of the Corys admiring the artifacts they'd brought back? Remember how John Cory wiped them down with a rag, wiping off all the green dust? It's more than dust, Dr. Cooper. It happens to be a spore that can sit dormant for centuries until it infests the respiratory system of a human being. Once you inhale it, it germinates, giving off a toxin that turns you into a raving animal until . . . well, you saw what finally became of Brad Frederick and now John Cory: The spores grow into a deadly fungus that eats you alive. Kachi-Tochetin must have covered his treasure with the stuff, forever guarding it from outsiders. He was a clever old brute, wouldn't you say?”

“Manasseh . . .” Dr. Cooper could hardly talk because of the spores in his throat. “What have you done with my children?”

“You're still worried about
them?
What about yourself?”

“Manasseh!”

He laughed. “Basehart is taking them to the tomb to seal them inside. As you can see, this pit isn't big enough for all of you. The ‘deadly curse' of Toco-Rey is too important a secret for kids to know about. They must not leave the jungle to tell the world.”

Horror and anger coursed through Dr. Cooper's veins. “NO! Manasseh, go ahead, take me, do what you want, but let them go!”

Manasseh scolded him. “Dr. Cooper, I'm already doing what I want with you. You see, we were hoping we could salvage some spores from the artifacts the Corys brought out, but unfortunately, the carvies found them and licked them clean. Then we thought maybe we could harvest spores from Brad Frederick's body, but the carvies ate all of those too. So, since you won't help us access the tomb to gather more spores, I guess you'll just have to serve as a human incubator right here in this shed! As you can see, John Cory has provided us with a healthy crop of fungus already, and it won't take long before you do the same.

Dr. Cooper could observe John Cory's body being processed from flesh to fungus before his very eyes.
“How
long?”

“Oh, the speed of the infection depends on how much of the spores a person ingests. The Corys wore dust masks in the tomb, but received a light exposure from handling the dusty artifacts back at their camp. Their infection took awhile. Your daughter Lila got only a small dose, so her infection took some time as well. But Dr. Cooper . . .” Manasseh made a
tsk-tsk
sound. “With the heavy dose of spores you've inhaled, I would say you'll be a raving maniac within an hour. As for the kids . . . well, it may be a few more centuries before anyone ever finds out what happened to them.” He laughed again, amused by his own cleverness. “Too bad for you it's morning.”

“What? What was that?”

“Never mind. You should have taken the deal I offered you, doctor. You could have looked forward to being alive and rich. Good-bye.”

Jay and Lila stood very still on the soft, gooey floor of the pit, afraid to make any sudden moves. All around them, the walls were alive with an unbroken, living layer of green carvies. They were humming and twitching, slithering and sliming over each other's bodies and occasionally flitting from wall to wall.

Tomás stood beside them with a gun in his hand, trying to act like a tough guy but obviously as scared as they were. Dr. Armond Basehart, suddenly cured of his claustrophobia, was just coming to the bottom of the ladder.

“Ah, yes . . .” said Dr. Basehart, shining his flashlight around the walls of the pit. “They just thrive down here, don't they?” He shined his light sideways and found the tunnel. “And that would be the route into the tomb, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jay, also pointing his flashlight that direction. “But this time it's full of carvies.”

“No matter. A little green slime won't hurt you.”

Lila couldn't figure that. “But I thought . . .”

“Trust me. I've learned a lot from your blood tests, young lady—and from your nose. Go ahead.” He handed Jay an extra flashlight and then prodded them with the barrel of his gun. They started stepping slowly over the bones and through the carvies toward the tunnel. “Tomás.”

Tomás answered, “Sí, señor,” but he didn't take a step or take his eyes off the thousands of little black eyes that looked back at him.

Dr. Basehart opened a bag he carried over his shoulder and brought out a hand-sized explosive charge with an electronic detonator. He put it in Tomás's hand and whispered, “It's preset for five minutes after you activate it. Get them inside, and then . . .” Tomás hesitated. Armond Basehart gave him a nudge. “Go on!”

Tomás pocketed the explosive, clicked on his flashlight, and followed the kids down the tunnel.

Jay and Lila kept moving, crouching down to stay clear of the carvies that clung to the stalactites above, and stepping gingerly on the slime-slickened tunnel floor.

They could see a light shining on the floor ahead of them. It was Lila's flashlight, still lying where she had dropped it. When they reached it, Jay picked it up and handed it to her. “You feeling okay, sis?”

“I'm not sick or crazy, if that's what you mean,” she answered. “But we're not doing okay, not at all.”

Jay looked back at Tomás. “Why are we down here?”

Tomás waved the gun at him. “Just keep moving.” Then Tomás looked back.

Dr. Basehart stood in the pit, still watching them go. “Farther, Tomás.”

Unhappily, Tomás waved his gun at the Cooper children. “Farther. Into the tomb.”

“Why do you listen to him, anyway?” Jay asked.

Tomás smiled weakly. “Mucho dinero, muchacho. Much money.”

They came to the hallway that circled the inner chamber of the pyramid. This was as far as Jay and Dr. Cooper had gotten last time. Jay examined the intricate carvings in the wall—the ones they had guessed might be a warning not to proceed farther.

“How you doing, sis?” Jay asked again.

“I'm all right, don't worry,” she insisted.

“Go on, get back farther,” said Tomás.