Clive Cussler - The Eye of Heaven

“I almost feel sorry for him,” Sam said quietly as they started ascending the steps on the front of the pyramid along with a few other hardy tourists.

“Not me. Nobody’s forcing him to tail us.”

“He definitely got the raw end of the deal. Did you see? He’s wearing black leather dress shoes. Not a good choice for this kind of thing. He’ll be lucky if he can walk by the time this is over.”

“And there’s so much more to see. Wow, look at this view,” she said, then pulled her phone from her pocket and took some photos of the entire city spread out before them. The buildings shimmered from the heat rising off the pavement as Sam and Remi took in the awe-inspiring panorama.

“Where to next?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I think we need to see the Pyramid of the Sun, don’t we? And then we can finish up in the Citadel, which is the section with the Temple of the Feathered Serpent over on the far end.”

“Good thing we ate a big breakfast. We won’t be out of here until two or three at this rate.”

“And our tail will be limping on stumps by then. Didn’t his mom ever tell him that sensible shoes were important?”

“And sunscreen. Bet he wishes he’d brought a hat, at the very least. Should be a mean burn. We are at seven thousand feet. Ouch.”

“Now even I’m feeling a little sorry for him,” Remi said, “but not enough to wind this down. Am I correct that there were temple structures on top of each of those smaller pyramids before the city was destroyed?” she asked, pointing to the row to her left.

“That’s the assumption. Same for the top of this one, as well as the others.”

“Makes you feel very small and recent, doesn’t it? To think that all this was thriving fifteen hundred years before we were born. And now it’s largely mounds of dirt.”

“Nobody gets out of this alive. Which is a good reason to make the most of it while the sun’s shining. Which it definitely is today, as our friend can attest to.”

Remi took Sam’s hand. “Come on, let’s get to the big pyramid. Our boy down there seems like he’s getting way too much rest. And how long can he stare at the other buildings before he stands out even more? This is the main attraction, and everyone else has climbed the steps.”

The smaller temples along the way were large when viewed from the ground, the terrain beyond them rising nearly to their summits. When excavation had started, the city had been bumps of land with an occasional structure peeking from the landscape, the earth seemingly eager to reclaim it as though wiping any trace of Teotihuacan from its surface.

They climbed the steps to the Pyramid of the Sun and gazed down at the rest of the complex two hundred feet below.

“Poor Quetzalcoatl’s pyramid’s kind of puny compared to this. He got shorted. Those feathered snakes get no respect,” Sam joked as a welcome breeze tousled his hair.

“Let’s stop in at the museum. No doubt it has air-conditioning. Let’s cool off there and then finish up with Snake Boy, shall we?”

“Sounds like a good plan. Especially the AC part.”

The museum was filled with artifacts that had been uncovered during the hundred years of archaeological exploration of the site and included a map and a simulation of what the city had looked like in its prime. All the buildings had been covered with plaster and bright paint, decorated with frescoes to honor the gods and celebrate important moments in the civilization’s history. They browsed for fifteen minutes, enjoying the cool of climate control, and then made their final way to the area called the Citadel by the Spanish, which they had thought was a fort but was actually a plaza that housed the Temple of the Feathered Serpent.

As they approached the temple, it didn’t look particularly impressive compared to the two larger pyramids. But once they’d mounted the steps of the platform in front of it, they could see the detail of the carved snake heads and the elaborate depictions of serpents winding their way around each level.

“It’s certainly all about snakes,” Sam said.

“Go snake or go home. That’s my new motto.”

“You’re in the right place, then. All snake all the time.”

“But with feathers. Don’t forget the plumage.”

“Of course not.”

“Looks like it’s closed off to visitors,” Remi observed. “And they’re working on some of the heads.”

“I have a feeling this is a bit like owning a bridge. You’re never really done with maintenance.”

“Then this was the center of the city?”

“That’s the thinking. But the rest is under that farmland over there.”

“And that shopping center.”

Remi pointed to the pyramid. “So you think our chamber could be along the back side? Can we get over there?”

“Doesn’t look that way. It’s cordoned off. Besides, once we have a permit, we’ll be out here for days while we excavate. I’m sure there’s nothing to see until then — just more dirt.”

After twenty minutes looking over the Citadel, they headed back to the main entrance, where a row of taxis waited in the sweltering heat for exhausted visitors. As they took the first in line, Remi sneaked a peek behind them, where their shadow was hobbling as fast as he could to the parking lot.

“Should we wait for him?” she suggested.

“No. Why make anything easy?”

“I wonder who he is? Or, rather, who put him up to it?”

“Someone really frustrated about now. Don’t worry. We’ll ditch them once we have the permit. There are small hotels around here we can stay where we’ll never be found. The trail will end with an empty bag.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The trip back took an hour, and, after a late lunch at a nearby restaurant, they went to the Institute. Outside, two police cars were parked at the curb, with a few curious students standing near them.

“I wonder what this is all about?” Remi muttered as they entered the building.

Maribela was standing at the security desk, talking with a police officer in hushed tones. When she saw them, she disengaged and approached, strain evident on her beautiful face.

“What is it, Maribela?” Sam asked.

“It’s Carlos. He’s disappeared. The police say he’s been kidnapped.”

“Carlos?” Remi blurted.

Maribela frowned and nodded. “It’s a regrettable part of living in Mexico City. Kidnappings happen all too often.”

“That’s terrible. What are the police doing?”

“They’re going through his office to see if there’s anything that could help identify the kidnappers, but it’s purely a formality. These are usually organized criminal gangs that do it for the money. They target the wealthy and the powerful. I’m afraid that Carlos is a little of both, between his family fortune and his position with the government.”

“Do … do the kidnappers usually harm their victims?” Remi asked.

Maribela’s face clouded further. “Sometimes. There’s no way of predicting it. But we’ll pray that there’s a swift resolution to this and that Carlos is returned to us unharmed. I’m afraid that’s all we can do.”

Over the next two days, they learned their permit had stalled with Carlos’s kidnapping. Without his pushing to get it done, it had been sucked into the great black hole of Mexico City’s bureaucracy. Antonio visited the Ministry to see what progress had been made, but after a half day there, he returned with a dour expression.

“Nobody knows anything about it. So I made a new request. But we’ve lost almost a week.”

“That’s frustrating. It doesn’t sound like there’s much we can do about it,” Sam said.

“No, unfortunately, this is the system. It’s a bad one, but it’s the one we must work with.”