Trifariam, The Lost Codex (2012) (42 page)

“The only solution is to go back to the ruins,” said Mary finally. “We’re next to the Pyramid of the Moon, we could blend in with the crowds.”

James sharply blew out a puff of air and eventually nodded. “Okay. Run for it!”

T
hey covered the three hundred-yard rocky path which led to the plaza with the pillars and the Plaza of the Moon. When they reached the first one, Mary quickly spun round expecting to see her pursuers; she saw one of the assassins making his way through the vegetation, armed with a gun, the other was walking towards the first group of soldiers with a rifle in his hand. He was trying to help them because they were desperately searching for an alternative route by which they could continue the chase.

The plazas were full of people. The number of tourists had increased dramatically over the last hour, mostly due to a sudden drop in temperature. The sun was having a short rest and the wind had started to blow hard, something James was immensely grateful for.

James hid his arm under his jacket so as to pass unnoticed through the crowds. They tried to blend in among several groups of tourists, but there were always one or two who noticed they looked dirty, unkempt and sweaty, not to mention the horrible stench emanating from their bodies. They always gave them an inquisitive look at first, before ending up whispering about their tattered clothing with their companions.

“Let’s get out of here! We’re attracting a lot of attention.”

“But… where will we go?” said Mary studying her friend’s wound. It was starting to look quite nasty and dark. “Those bastards will be everywhere.”

Those words sparked a survival instinct in James. He stopped for a few minutes at the foot of the Pyramid of the Moon and looked around him. He didn’t need much time to take stock of the situation. The road which surrounded the site was plagued with black all-terrain vehicles.
Why could we not have realized before?!
At the side of one of them there was always a person too well-dressed to be a tourist and sometimes seemed to be talking to themselves, or rather an intercom.

Suddenly, and almost without giving them time to react, the saw a group of eight people approach the Pyramid of the Moon. They looked like hunters beating the area to corner or scare their prey. Some sniper would surely be lying in wait to give chase.

“They’re surrounding us, we can’t escape.”

Mary looked in all directions until she found them in among the crowd. “We don’t have any choice. Let’s go up!”

James didn’t understand what she said at first, but he immediately did when he turned around.

The imposing Pyramid of the Moon towered them from behind. Although it was smaller in size than the Pyramid of the Sun, the professor had a feeling that it would be hugely difficult for him to get to the summit in his current state.

“Come on James! They haven’t seen us yet.”

Just like the Pyramid of the Sun, the structure was made up of several platforms, in this case four, which just so happened to be swarming with people that day. At first it seemed easy to blend in with the tourists and get to the top undetected. But the continual dizzy spells that James was starting to suffer along with the sudden bouts of nausea and excessive sweating brought on by an imminent fever made it enormously difficult for him to climb up.

Step by step, slowly, but without undue hesitation they began their ascent. The first two platforms were less difficult for him than expected, with them often looking behind to see if they were already being followed. However just as they were about to reach the top of the third platform, a ray of sun penetrated the thick cloud and momentarily blinded him. His feet couldn’t coordinate his movements and he tripped on one of the steps. His hands tried to grip the handrail but they slipped and grasped at the air. As he was falling he felt as if his head wanted to leave his body, his mind remained blank for what seemed an eternity, waiting for a hard blow to his neck that never came.

“Are you okay?”

A man’s voice addressed him in perfect English. He was an athletic, strong and robust person who was trying to reach the top following the steps of the professor. When he saw him lose his balance he tightly grabbed his arms.

James could barely smile. His anguished face showed the heavy burden he was under. “Yes, yes. Thanks a lot.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look too good.”

Mary, who had watched everything unfold without being able to do anything, took James by the hand and gently urged him to continue the ascent. “Don’t worry. He’s very sensitive to changes in temperature and the heat must have affected him.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Mary’s words. The temperature was cool rather than hot.

“Excuse me,” said the young man again, to the noticeable irritation of the archaeologist. “Is this yours?”

He was holding in his hands one of the two fragments they had found, the one from Egypt. It probably fell out when the young man grabbed James.

“Yes, thank you very much. It’s a souvenir that we bought in a shop. My mother will be eternally grateful.” Mary went over to him, thanked him once more and practically snatched the object from his hands while she smiled at him.

After more than ten minutes climbing they eventually reached the top. The fresh air at the summit momentarily relieved the professor’s agony.

“James, it’s best I keep hold of the objects or you’ll end up losing them.” Mary was still holding the first fragment that they had found in Cairo. Without waiting for confirmation from her friend, she put it away in her bag. “If you remain loaded down with them you’ll only hold us back.”

He thought about it carefully and just as it seemed he was going to hand over the second fragment, he changed his mind. “It’s best that the fragments are kept separately. That way they won’t be able to complete it if one of us is captured.”

“Okay, but you’re in no fit state to be carrying heavy weight,” said Mary bluntly.

For the next few minutes, the summit was practically empty. The wind had picked up and was whipping Mary’s hair as if it were a paper handkerchief, giving the impression that a heavy storm was on the way. Only a couple of people, among whom was the young man who had stopped James from falling, stoically put up with the weather conditions taking photographs of the city from the top of the pyramid. But faced with the strong gusts of wind, they gave up and started their descent before the weather conditions made the uneven steps even more difficult.

James had a rest on an old platform located halfway across the summit. It was used thousands of years ago to perform ceremonies in honor of the goddess of water, related to the Moon and whose statue was found at the base of the pyramid. He was exhausted and he didn’t give a shit if he was flouting some rule or other. His only concern at that time was about being poisoned to death and not being able to say goodbye to his little girl. To tell her the truth about what happened, although her bitch of a mother would no doubt win her over with some story where he was the bad guy. The bruise on his arm started to turn black and was occasionally heavy and hard to move.

“I don’t know what to do. They’re going to find us any second now.”

James didn’t seem to care. Deep down in his heart it was what he really wanted, for everything to be over and put him out of his unnecessary suffering.

Mary crept over to the rear face of the pyramid. The highway which led to the city was just below, but it was very dangerous to try to descend that slope without any kind of harness. Most probably, the wind or humidity that was starting to impregnate the atmosphere would make them trip and fall violently to the ground.

“At least if we had a rope,” said Mary, “we would be able to scale down one of its faces.”

The memory of his daughter had given him new energy. He quickly analyzed the situation and made his way over to Mary, worried. “We’re trapped here, we have to go,” suggested James. “They’ll send somebody up here sooner or later. Don’t you see? We’re inside a cave waiting for the bear to come.”

“You’re right. Let’s go!”

Just then, a dark cloud that was hovering above their heads deposited a few small drops of water on top of the pyramid. The few drops quickly multiplied. It was starting to rain over Teotihuacan.

They gathered all their belongings and strode over to where the steps led down from the top, trying not to be seen from the ground. It was highly likely that the vast majority of their stalkers were searching in neighboring towns. However, one was bound to still be waiting for some reward in the ruins.

Just as James drew nearer to the steps and had a clearer view of the complex, a head slowly popped up before him. As he finished climbing the last few steps, his body gradually materialized. An enormous back and a pair of strong, robust arms that made him impossible to defeat in one-on-one combat, muscular arms, a slim yet defined waist, long and athletic legs. At first, James couldn’t tell if he was some deranged tourist to have climbed the pyramid in that state, or one of his pursuers. However, his eyes instinctively went to his right hand. He was carrying a gun ready to fire. With a swift movement he raised the weapon and pointed it straight at his head. His index finger gently slid over the barrel of the gun and rested completely on the trigger. They fitted together perfectly, which was why it was his favorite weapon; it had never let him down. The assassin that so yearned to kill them had finally found them.

W
hen the assassin’s penetrating stare met with James, all the hair on his body stood on end as if the temperature had suddenly dropped forty degrees. His red eyes, full of rage, carried a glimpse of a horrendous ending. The assassin slowly moved his right arm behind his waist. It was a calculated movement, yet sufficiently slow for them both to follow it with their gaze.

Eventually he took out a military knife, the same one that he had been about to use to finish off James the day all this began. Its blade shone like a mirror when it came into contact with the light refracted in the raindrops. “Give me the fragments!” demanded the assassin in a steady and authoritative voice.

The seventeen or eighteen feet between them gave them a false sense of security which only served to intensify their agony.

Although it was highly likely that they hadn’t gotten rid of them during their escape, the assassin couldn’t be sure. They had tried to escape through the woodland around the complex, so they could have hidden them anywhere. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake; his boss would never forgive him.

“Hand them over!” he repeated, this time more insistent than before. He took a couple of steps forward.

James, who was desperately wishing for the distance between them to drastically reduce, retreated three feet for every step taken by the assassin. Mary did the same thing, without losing her cool.

“Who are you working for?” asked James. “How much is he paying you? We can come to some agreement. Let us go and we’ll pay you whatever you want.”

The assassin couldn’t contain his laughter. He sensed their fear; he could smell it. He found it hugely satisfying when his victims slowly realized they were going to die. “You’ll never be able to match his bid.”

James insisted. “Why? We have quite a lot of money.”

They assassin started to laugh again. The constant twitching of his jaw made him seem a cruel and bloodthirsty man. “He doesn’t just pay in money. He wiped my whole criminal record, and that really wasn’t an easy job. I was sentenced to life imprisonment.”

Mary glanced at James’ arm. It was practically purple and he had probably lost all feeling in it. He didn’t have much time left. She tried to get his attention with a slight whistle but his head was somewhere else.

“He wiped your criminal record?” James looked puzzled. “Your boss must be part of the government. No doubt he’s a very important person.”

The assassin grinded his teeth, his face showing that he had said too much. Meanwhile James and Mary kept taking steps back until they were on the edge of the summit. They couldn’t go any further.

“It doesn’t matter who my boss is, you two are dead. I’m just going to let you decide how you are going to go to the other side. Give me them!” he said again. “If you don’t, you’ll suffer.”

James’ body couldn’t take any more and he looked at him with rage. His right arm was hanging from his shoulder like rotten fruit on a branch. “We haven’t got it - we hid it.”

“You’re lying!” yelled the assassin who had already stepped over the five yard mark and was now less than four yards away. His mouth was again twisted in anger.

Things were becoming a little delicate, so James grabbed the only solution he had left. He took out half the object and showed it to him, shaking it about in the air.

The assassin stopped and even took a couple of steps back, cursing his ignorance. If he had known that they had the fragments, he would have fired a couple of shots at each one and he would have got the pieces without any more to it. But without being sure, he couldn’t take that risk. They could lose it forever.

James spoke to him in an intimidating tone of voice while he waved the
Trifariam
over the edge of the pyramid. “Get back! Get back or I’ll throw it over!”

The assassin started grinding his teeth again, he squeezed his fist in anger and lifted the weapon until it was pointing straight at his head.

“You don’t have the balls to shoot me,” said James, feeling shaken up inside. “If a bullet goes into my head and kills me, I’ll let it go and it will smash into the ground. I’d love to see your boss’ face when you tell him it was your fault that one of the pieces was broken.”

The assassin stepped back a few more feet; he was undecided. He waved his pistol, aiming all over James’ body until he eventually decided to point it at Mary’s head.

Before she could say anything, James squeezed the object tighter than ever and threatened to throw it over the edge if he didn’t drop his weapon. “If you so much as touch a hair on her, I’m throwing this over. I swear to god!”

The rain stopped just as the assassin was showing signs of flagging. He slid his gun back into the pouch tied around his waist while he kept the knife raised up in the air without knowing what to do.