Adrian D'Hage - The Maya codex

‘Don’t push your luck, Mister O’Connor.’

‘Have you ever heard of the Maya Codex?’ Aleta asked, plunging the coffee at the kitchen table.

‘I was at Monsignor Jennings’ lecture,’ O’Connor admitted.

‘Why am I not surprised?’ Aleta shook her head, her feelings of being watched and stalked returning. ‘Trying to pass yourself off as an archaeologist, no doubt.’

‘I did a couple of nights’ study, although it was a public lecture,’ he added sheepishly.

Aleta nodded. ‘Then you would have heard the question about the codex.’

‘And Jennings dismissing it as a figment of the media’s imagination. Is it?’

‘It exists.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Now it’s your turn to trust me.’

‘So you think these figurines will lead you to it?’ O’Connor asked after Aleta had given him a thumbnail sketch of her grandfather’s work, and Dr Arana’s warnings.

‘Well, I can’t be sure of that. In any case, I still need to find the third one. The ancient Maya went to great lengths to ensure the codex would remain hidden until the time was right for it to be recovered.’

‘And Jose Arana thinks that time may have arrived?’

Aleta nodded. ‘The discovery of these two figurines may not be an accident, and if you look at them closely, you’ll see that each one is in the shape of a tree, the Mayan tree of life. It’s a very powerful symbol that represents creation, which right now is under extraordinary threat. The male figurine has a male jaguar at the base, while the neutral one is in balance with both male and female cats. The third figurine will undoubtedly have a female jaguar – the lost feminine.’

‘The jaguar… one of the great cats of the Guatemalan jungle, and if I recall correctly, sacred to the ancient Maya.’

For the first time since O’Connor had burst into her apartment, Aleta allowed herself a smile. ‘So those two nights spent studying had some benefit?’

‘Not enough, unfortunately.’

‘Don’t feel too bad about it. My grandfather spent a lifetime studying the Maya, and he only scratched the surface. We think we are the most advanced civilisation in history, but we’ve yet to uncover the real history of the ancients. When we do, we will find that the Maya, like the Inca and the Egyptians, were all much more advanced than pompous historians like Jennings allow.’

‘You’re probably right,’ O’Connor agreed. ‘There is something in this codex that has both the Vatican and my government very worried. Both sides will do anything to get their hands on it, so that truce between you and I is going to have to last, at least until I help you find it.’

‘Why do you think the Vatican or the US government is after it? And why would you want to help me find it?’

‘I’m not sure, but I know they’re both determined to get to this codex before you do, and if they do, I suspect they will bury it from public view.’

‘What about the warnings?’

‘They’ll take a chance on them. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time the public has been kept in the dark.’

Aleta looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure what’s driving your government, but I think I know why the Vatican would be after it,’ she said finally. ‘The Vatican kept the Dead Sea Scrolls from public view for over thirty years because the contents threatened the uniqueness of Jesus’ message. The Maya Codex might be a much bigger threat than the Dead Sea Scrolls.’

‘Meaning?’

‘My grandfather left some notes. He thought the codex would be found in the jungles of Guatemala, and that it would not only contain a warning of what might be about to happen to us, but it might be linked to the warnings the Virgin Mary issued at Fatima.’ Aleta allowed herself a smile. ‘The Vatican has always felt threatened by Mayan spirituality, Mr O’Connor.’

O’Connor smiled wanly. ‘Do you think we might drop the “Mr O’Connor”?’

Aleta took a deep breath. ‘Look, I do appreciate what you’ve done tonight… It’s just that I don’t have people bursting into my apartment with guns and knives every day of the week, and it’s going to take me a little time before I can trust you – if I ever do. Although if what you tell me is true, and you’ve defied your boss to protect me, they’re going to be after you as well.’

‘That’s probably an understatement, and all the more reason why we need to get out of Vienna and head for Guatemala.’

Aleta shook her head. ‘Not before I find out what happened to my grandfather. Tomorrow, I’m catching a train to Bad Arolsen. The town houses millions of documents containing details on Holocaust victims, and they’re finally available to the public.’

‘Yes. I remember reading something about that. And you think your grandparents will be amongst them?’ O’Connor asked gently.

Aleta nodded sadly. ‘Along with my father and his sister, although they both escaped.’

‘Well…’ Now O’Connor’s mind was racing. ‘Bear in mind that as soon as Wiley discovers what’s happened here, there’ll be a manhunt on that will make the search for bin Laden look like a walk in the park. How long do you need at Bad Arolsen?’

‘A day – two at the most. I’ve already booked my time through the International Tracing Service. The Mauthausen records will be grouped together.’

‘And another day at Mauthausen itself. So allowing for travel, we need another five days in Austria. We might get away with it, but it’ll be touch and go. In the meantime, you and I had better get some rest.’

O’Connor scanned the Ringstrasse behind and then ushered Aleta through the old brass-handled wooden doors of the Cafe Schwarzenberg.

They found a vacant booth in a quiet corner of the eighteenth-century cafe on the Ringstrasse opposite the Imperial Hotel, and O’Connor passed Aleta the breakfast menu. The cafe was only half full, and again O’Connor scanned the clientele, but there was no one out of the ordinary. They were mainly business people, heads buried in newspapers, with a croissant and a mokka or a schwarzer for company. It was too early for the tourists.

‘Kaffee, Kipferl, Marmelade und ein weichgekochtes Ei, bitte,’ O’Connor ordered. The old waiter’s black suit and bow tie matched the ambience of the cafe’s chandeliers, tapestries, wood-panelled pillars and old leather-padded wooden chairs.

‘Und eine Zeitung, Herr?’

‘ Die New York Times, bitte.’

‘Und Ihnen, Frau?’

‘ Ich werde Die Welt, und die Wiener Fruhstuck als Gut, danke,’ Aleta replied in flawless German, ordering the German daily and the same Viennese breakfast as O’Connor.

‘Danke schon.’ O’Connor thanked the waiter for the newspapers and handed Aleta the wooden rod that had Die Welt attached. ‘You’re making me feel inadequate.’

‘You seem to get by. How many languages do you speak?’

‘I’m fluent in German, French and Italian, and I get by, as you put it, in Spanish, Russian and Chinese.’

‘Very impressive. I dare say Russian was a product of the Cold War, but why Chinese?’ Aleta thought she saw a momentary shadow in his eyes.

‘That’s another long story. I worked on security for the Beijing Olympics.’

‘You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?’

O’Connor smiled. ‘Comes with the territory, I guess. Danke schon .’ He thanked the waiter again as the coffees arrived, grateful for the interruption.

‘So what’s the plan? You need to check out of your hotel?’

‘Train leaves at 10.40 and my hotel’s just across the Ringstrasse ,’ O’Connor said, indicating the Imperial through the high, curtained windows.

‘The Imperial? You do travel in style.’

O’Connor shrugged modestly. ‘It’s a tough life, but someone has to do it.’ His eyes met those of a tall, thin man in a black overcoat and beret, standing by a newsstand on the opposite side of the Ringstrasse . The man immediately went back to reading his newspaper.