Adrian D'Hage - The Maya codex

‘The sky is getting lighter above the jungle, which spreads like a dark-green canopy out to the east. The High Priest is looking towards the point where the sky is the brightest, where the sun will rise on the shortest day of the year – now! The first rays of the sun have struck the crystal in the jade figurine on top of Temple I.’ A narrow, searing beam of deep-green laser-like light energised the crystal on the top of Temple I, only to be immediately deflected on a precise angle to strike the crystal on the jade figurine on top of Temple IV to the west, from where it energised the crystal on top of Temple V. Aleta turned her head suddenly. ‘The light beam! It’s been deflected towards… wait… I can’t see it… oh, no!’

The screams were coming from the direction of the city gates at the bottom of the causeway that led up to the markets. One after another, the thatched-roofed huts on either side were going up in flames. Thousands of bloodthirsty warriors from the rival city of Calakmul fought with the guards at the gates, beheading them and ripping their still-beating hearts out of their chests. Now they were streaming on towards the plaza. Fierce battles broke out as Tikal’s warriors raced to meet them to defend their King.

The High Priest was strangely calm; for him the surprise dawn attack had been inevitable. He shook his head sadly. The city-states, he knew, would continue fighting until they destroyed themselves and, ultimately, the Mayan civilisation. He quietly signalled to the priests who were preparing to entomb the Maya Codex. Through the chaos and smoke of the raging battle, the laser-like beam held steady on the mechanism that controlled a secret entrance to a complex across from Temple V. The priests held the precious codex aloft to indicate they had seen their High Priest’s signal, and one of them descended a shaft and entered the passageway to the chamber. The sun climbed higher and the beam faded from view. The High Priest signalled to the priests on each temple that the jade figurines were to be sealed in the secret chambers that had been prepared on top of each pyramid.

‘No! No! The Calakmul warriors have reached the base of our pyramid. My father’s warriors are being overwhelmed… speared… beheaded. They are fighting hard but the other side is gaining. Oh, no! They’re swarming up the steps towards us… No! No!’

O’Connor found the Buddha Bar not far from the shores of the lake. and he mentally filed his escape routes. A Tibetan flag flew over the main entrance. Statues and images of the Buddha added an Asian ambience to the ochre Spanish-style building, which contained a huge wooden Buddha that had been used on the set of Apocalypse Now. O’Connor scanned the crowd in the dimly lit ground-floor bar. It was full, but O’Connor quickly determined they were mainly backpackers playing pool and smoking weed, a pastime that was de rigueur in San Pedro. He checked to see if he was being followed, and climbed the stairs to the second-floor restaurant.

The big casual horseshoe booths were crowded with tourists and locals, save for one at the far end. O’Connor recognised Jennings immediately. He was sitting next to a boy whom O’Connor judged to be not more than fifteen. Jennings was sipping a whisky and the boy a Coke, prompting O’Connor to wonder what might be in the boy’s glass.

O’Connor took the next flight of stairs to survey the rooftop bar, which had a 360-degree view of the darkened lake. It, too, was crowded with backpackers. The sweet, pungent smell of weed hung heavily around the balcony where the two ex-navy SEALs were standing with their backs to O’Connor. One of them had a neatly trimmed beard, but the short military-style haircuts were a dead giveaway. O’Connor retreated downstairs, where Jennings was returning from the bar with another whisky and another ‘Coke’ for the boy. A shiver ran down O’Connor’s spine as Jennings placed his hand on the boy’s thigh. O’Connor had to fight a powerful urge to blow his cover and free the boy from the fat priest’s grasp. Instead, he headed back out towards the main street, and threaded his way through the late-night shoppers and the tuc tucs buzzing across the cobblestones, past the brightly coloured buildings, one of which was painted with a huge sign, declaring Jesus as Lord of San Pedro La Laguna.

O’Connor reached the top of the steep road, hardly having raised his heartbeat. He paused beside a shop, long enough to scan the occupants of the dimly lit square and analyse the layout of the big white-washed church standing opposite at the summit of the hill. The presbytery would be the little building to one side, he concluded. He headed around the perimeter of the square and approached through the cover of the palm trees and church gardens.

The lock was elementary and O’Connor closed the oak door quietly behind him. He flicked on his pocket torch and began a systematic search of Jennings’ small apartment. The kitchen table, which appeared to double as a desk, revealed nothing of interest. Nor did the kitchenette or the small bathroom, but when he searched the cupboard under the stairs, he found the scuba gear, just as Jennings had. O’Connor climbed the narrow stairs to the mezzanine bedroom above. In the bottom of the wardrobe O’Connor found a small trunk. He picked the lock and inside he found a stack of NAMBLA Bulletins, the official magazine of the North American Man/Boy Love Association. On the topmost magazine Jennings had scrawled ‘very cute’ across the photo of the boy on the cover.

O’Connor relocked the trunk and turned his attention to the manhole cover in the ceiling. He dragged across the only chair in the room, hoisted himself into the ceiling and played the torchlight over the piles of rat droppings scattered amongst the old beams. The light picked out three small dusty trunks at the far end of the confined roof space, and O’Connor eased himself along the central joist. The dust was an indicator that the trunks almost certainly did not to belong to Jennings. Again, he picked the locks and opened the first trunk. Diaries. Dozens of them. O’Connor thumbed through the uppermost one and found the last entry had been made twelve months before von Hei?en had fled. Was there one diary missing? O’Connor wondered as he opened the second, and then the third trunk, which contained the diaries covering von Hei?en’s time at Mauthausen. They were in chronological order, and, curious, O’Connor located the diary for 1938. Five minutes later he let out a soft whistle as he found von Hei?en’s meticulous entry for Heinrich Himmler’s visit to Mauthausen. Reichsfuhrer Himmler sehr zufrieden mit Geburtstag… Reichsfuhrer Himmler very pleased with celebrations for the Fuhrer’s birthday. Forty-eight Jewish scum executed – one for each year of the Fuhrer’s glorious life. Himmler personally congratulated me on the smooth functioning of Konzentrationslager Mauthausen, giving strong intimation that promotion to Standartenfuhrer is being considered! Herr Doktor Richtoff’s preparation for high-altitude medical experiments well in hand. Himmler agreed to execution of Weizman scum. Weizman dealt with on the stairs. His bitch and brats will be Herr Doktor Richtoff’s first ‘patients’.

If Mossad had been hard on von Hei?en’s heels, how could they have missed these? There was only one explanation that made any sense to O’Connor. Mossad were so close, they would have kept pursuing him. O’Connor kept the diary with the incriminating evidence of the shootings and dropped back into Jennings’ bedroom, where he searched the bedside table. In the drawer he found the last of von Hei?en’s diaries, and nestled inside the front cover, he discovered the original huun map containing the backbearings from the volcanoes – the same one confiscated from Ariel Weizman more than seventy years ago.