The Jaguar (17 page)

Marcus also found peace that evening. Dana was surprisingly matter of fact about his revelation and none of the party wanted to make a fuss. He rang Steven and it was only he who struck a note of caution, suggesting that whether people complained probably depended upon the success of the rest of the trip. Marcus detected a slight edge to his comment: just enough of an authoritarian tone to remind him that he was still only, ultimately, an employee. Somehow, as he sat on the hotel veranda, feet over the green railing, it was Dana's reaction that meant the more. He looked out between the wooden slats to the lawn that undulate down to the lake. Tiny waves, whipped up by the cool evening breeze, played around the shore. Frogs called from the reed beds, waterfowl squabbled just out of sight and the rhythmic trill of cicadas in the trees provided a soothing baseline to a symphony set amongst an amphitheatre of stars. Marcus realised how grateful he was for David's company as he, Ethan and Felicity joined him. “How is your hand?” he enquired of Felicity.

“Feeling fine, thank you,” she observed, just a little frostily. “It didn't stop me following David's lead and hiring a bike. Ethan and I cycled miles with one of the guides.”

“Yes and we saw some really cool stuff,” Ethan interjected. “The guide showed us where they're clearing more buildings from the forest. They've discovered a load of stone hieroglyphs. The archaeologists had pulled a ceramic figure out of the ground earlier too. They said it was a cremation pot, dedicated to the mother goddess Ix-Chel. You could still make out the paint and even some of her features. We both thought she looked like Laura. We also found another lake deep in the jungle, which was where our crocodiles came from. Apparently, they swam into this lake during floods some years ago and stayed - any crocodiles on the lawn, Marcus?”

Marcus chose to absorb Ethan's unsubtle dig. It was the least he deserved. He shook his head. “I did check - no crocodiles, although lots of little notices telling people not to picnic on the shoreline. How are you feeling, David?”

“Tired and I've got a headache - great day despite everything, in the end.”

“You want to get some sleep,” counselled Felicity. “The rooms are really cosy, aren't they?”

“Dinner was good too.” Ethan rubbed his ample stomach. “I really like the hotel courtyard and the fountains where we ate. It felt like the Italian Riviera. We just needed someone to serenade us.”

“I'm afraid at best it's likely to be a mariachi band.” Marcus smiled. “Nature's doing a pretty good job though, isn't it?”

Everybody stopped to listen. The wind had dropped and now the sound of the cicadas was reaching its crescendo.

“Wow, look at those stars.” David joined Marcus with his feet up on the railing.

“Look, you can see the Milky Way running across the sky, really clearly,” Felicity pointed. “The Mayans thought it was the road to the underworld, made by a giant snake called an Ouroboros, wrapped around the Earth.”

Ethan made a gesture of mock surprise.

“At least one of us was paying attention this afternoon,” Felicity scolded.

“Funny, isn't it?” David pondered. “At night we shut out the sky and stare at screens. In ancient civilisations they'd spend hours at a time studying the heavens. That was their window on another world, somewhere only their gods and souls could go.”

“David, you're getting serious again,” Marcus stretched and patted him on the back, “but I like the way you see things.”

“So why don't we worship sky gods anymore?” Ethan caught the contemplative mood.

“Perhaps we do,” David mused. “The galaxy forged the stars and planets, the solar system shaped the Earth; the Sun provides our power and the moon the hand to keep us stable. Fill in all the details and it's as good as any creation myth. We still worship the sun; we just choose to call it science, not religion.”

“Sounds like you're sceptical about science,” Marcus yawned.

“Not really, I like science,” David paused and thought for a moment. “I just think that if people insist it's the only way to see the world it becomes like any other creed.”

“Listen.” Felicity cocked her head to one side. The cicadas in the trees had ceased calling. For a moment there was no sound at all then, as their ears adjusted, each was aware of distant music from the single bar back down the dusty lakeside trail.

“Anyone fancy a game of pool?”

David shrugged then nodded. Tomorrow they would transfer to a small, exclusive beachside hotel, far to the south of the main resorts. Apart from that, it was a rest day. No point hurrying to bed. He caught himself wondering where Laura was, and realised how much he was looking forward to their next conversation.

Chapter Twenty

Rochas Blancas

Luis felt for his mobile on the bedside table. He had commandeered the main hotel in Rochas Blancas and removed the scattering of existing guests,
para su proteccion.
The building was secure, but still he had not been able to sleep. One future scenario after another queued for space in Luis' mind and none came with a positive ending. Tense and angry, he had uncharacteristically resorted to downing the contents of the minibar. As expected, it was his brother calling.

“
Hola, hermano, es bueno hablar contigo
.”

Luis was surprised by the welcome and by the warmth of Alfredo's tone, which instantly carried away much of his own distress. “Hello, brother, has London got any better?”

“London,” Alfredo almost spat, “it's like purgatory here. The place is cold, the people are cold and the beer isn't.”

Despite the harsh words, Luis sensed that his brother was only semi-serious and assumed he must have met another girl. He felt closer than usual to his brother. He didn't want to upset Alfredo, but he also welcomed the opportunity to share his heavy burden. Then again, a part of him still harboured resentment, as it was Alfredo's carelessness that had precipitated their family's current crisis. He caught himself wondering whether he would have missed his brother more than he missed Felipe, had the dance-floor shooting proved successful.

“Alfredo, I'm sorry, I have very bad news: Uncle Felipe was killed in prison. It was Xterra and we think they also encouraged Marcelo's brother to try to kill you.”

For a long time the phone remained silent. Luis held it as close as possible and thought he could detect Alfredo's laboured breathing amongst the static. His tension rose again with each lost moment. He needed Alfredo to be strong and decisive to bolster his own resolve. To his considerable relief, he was.

“Don't worry, brother,” responded Alfredo, at last. “Felipe will be avenged. Xterra are
loco
- they have no strategy but fear. You are far too clever for them and I'm in the mood to spread a little fear myself. How is Alex and how is Father?”

“I've sent Alex away. If Xterra are operating in El Paso then it is too dangerous for her. Papa is no better. I've never seen such frailty in him before. I'd rather he was golfing on the Riviera Maya, but he's still in Juarez because there are things only he has the influence to do.”

“How will we hit Xterra?”

“We already have. Gennaro and I are in Rochas Blancas now. We started with the scum who betrayed our trust in the prison. Then a party of Xterra thugs turned up. They were spreading panic by kidnapping people. Now they are dead.”

“Well done, Luis. Is it safe for me to come home?”

“I'm not sure. We still don't know how the US Authorities will react to what you did; assuming they know our family was responsible. Although we have money and muscle on both sides of the border - more money now, thanks to you - we're in a weak position with Barrio Fuerte. We've had English weather in the mountains and much of the next crop is destroyed. If we have no product to offer them then they have even less reason to stay with us. Without them we have no supply chain across the border. If you return to Juarez, it may inflame the situation.”

“Then let me come home to Chihuahua, or even to Father's house in the south. In Mexico I can help mobilise our forces. In this wretched country, I am nothing.”

Luis thought for a moment. “Don't worry, Alfredo, Papa and I have already decided you must return, but there is one more thing I need you to do for me, before you leave.”

“As the English would say,
you can count on me
!” Alfredo made a particularly poor attempt at a southern English accent.

“Go to the bank as soon as possible. Withdraw as much as you need to get home then transfer whatever you can to El Paso.”

“OK Luis, but there won't be much: the company here is not working well with the factory in Spain. There's been little profit so far.”

“It doesn't matter. We'll probably sell both companies now, anyway. This war is going to be expensive.”

“Surely,” Alfredo reasoned, “when things heat up the
Federales
will get involved. Then even Xterra will have to back off? The last thing that either government wants is Xterra controlling more of the border.”

Luis returned to the thoughts that had occupied him throughout the night. “Unfortunately, brother, I don't think it is quite that simple. Both the Americans and Xterra may be looking to establish Barrio Fuerte on our side of the border. The Americans have agents in every state and federal prison in the USA. They would have no trouble keeping tabs on Barrio Fuerte. They would be a lot easier to manipulate than we are. They're nothing more than a criminal organisation, whereas we can always hide behind our legitimate businesses. A lot of American entrepreneurs would like to buy our factories too. As for Xterra, Barrio Fuerte would be the perfect cover for extending their operations further west, whereas they know we will never do business with them.”

“Then we will stop Xterra on our own.”

Luis was drawn to Alfredo's calm resolve. “Then we'll stop Xterra on our own,” Luis repeated in solidarity. “Fly to Cancun. I'll let Papa know and he'll make sure everything's ready for you down there. Then we'll talk again.”

Each returned briefly to his thoughts. Alfredo was the first to speak. “I won't let you down, Luis.”

“I know, Alfredo. Hurry home, brother. Time may not be on our side”

Chapter Twenty-One

Coba

“Why are you smiling?” Ah Kin Lo was looking quizzically at his friend.

Mulac glanced cautiously around him to ensure that nobody was watching then lay back against the carved stone column and stretched out his legs. The sun was now above the trees and he closed his eyes to concentrate upon the warmth it was beginning to convey. All over the temple complex people sat in small groups. Children wandered in and out of the forest and, here and there, thin trails from burnt offerings clawed weakly at the sky. Three hours previously the whole area had been packed, in anticipation of first light. Shamans chanted from the highest levels of every building and their incantations were punctuated by the screams of the living dead, as hearts and souls were ripped from living flesh.

“Do you realise that you are resting upon K'inich?”

Mulac jumped up, spun around and collapsed again to his knees, chanting loudly for forgiveness.

“You are lucky our jaguar god of the night is sleeping now,” Ah Kin Lo grinned, “otherwise our journey might be extended by a trip to the underworld. But now he is the sun and he still shines his light upon you, I notice, even though you dishonour him. So let us go and find breakfast.”

Mulac said nothing as he finished his nervous ritual. He still couldn't come to terms with how the old man could be so serene - even affable - in the face of so much human suffering. He took a deep breath, which stank of death, and backed away from the carved column with his head bowed low. He stretched cautiously and put his hand on the old man's shoulder.

“Priest?”

“Yes, Mulac?”

“Is it right that I still feel so sad?” He stared around him at the scattering of pyramids, each tipped with crimson from the blood let from its temple alter.

“Yes, Mulac, it is right. Your wife has found a place beyond the mountain. That world is for the gods and for the pure of heart. You cannot follow her, at least not yet, but you honour her by missing her in this one.”

Ah Kin Lo picked up his stick and the pair began to walk slowly across the main courtyard. Mulac stayed close to the priest, lest he should stumble. He could see the pain of walking etched into the old man's features, but knew better than to offer to carry him. The journey from Tulum to Coba had taken nearly three days. It had cost Mulac a lot of money in porterage fees, but he did not doubt that he had done the right thing. Ah Kin Lo had been desperate for one last chance to commune with the gods before he died. The pride and excitement that Mulac saw on his face, as his chair was carried amongst fellow pilgrims from village to village along the road to Coba, had been reward in itself.

“I will tell you now Priest, why I was smiling. I was smiling because of the pet name you gave to my wife, Emetaly:
She-who-burns-the-dinner
. There was a time, two years ago, when I could have cursed you for finding me such a young and inexperienced wife, Priest. But you know, more than anyone, how much I came to love her.”

“Mulac, you wanted not a wife but a servant. You wanted someone to look after your parents, when it was you they wanted to care for them. You wanted to sit in your chair and slip into middle age, when the gods still have work for you.”

“I know that now Priest and I thank you.”

“And you have a fine son, and now a daughter too who will grow up to be as beautiful and probably as difficult as her mother.”

Mulac smiled again. “In my son's eyes I already see Emetaly. They are like dark jewels where the light burns deep and slow. Sometimes I can hardly bear to look at him.”