THE DOOMSDAY CIPHER
(An Avalon Adventure)
Rob Jones
Other Titles by Rob Jones
The Joe Hawke Series
The Vault of Poseidon (Joe Hawke #1)
Thunder God (Joe Hawke #2)
The Tomb of Eternity (Joe Hawke #3)
The Curse of Medusa (Joe Hawke #4)
Valhalla Gold (Joe Hawke #5)
The Aztec Prophecy (Joe Hawke #6)
The Secret of Atlantis (Joe Hawke #7)
The Lost City (Joe Hawke #8)
The Sword of Fire (Joe Hawke #9)
The King’s Tomb (Joe Hawke #10)
Land of the Gods (Joe Hawke #11)
The Orpheus Legacy (Joe Hawke #12)
Hell’s Inferno (Joe Hawke #13)
Day of the Dead (Joe Hawke #14)
Coming Soon: Shadow of the Apocalypse (Joe Hawke #15)
The Avalon Adventures
The Hunt for Shambhala (Avalon Adventure #1)
Treasure of Babylon (Avalon Adventure #2)
The Doomsday Cipher (Avalon Adventure #3)
The Hunter Files
The Atlantis Covenant (The Hunter Files #1)
The Revelation Relic (The Hunter Files #2)
Coming Soon: The Titanic Mystery (The Hunter Files #3)
The Cairo Sloane Series
Plagues of the Seven Angels (Cairo Sloane #1)
The Raiders Series
The Raiders (The Raiders #1)
The Harry Bane Thriller Series
The Armageddon Protocol (A Harry Bane Thriller #1)
The DCI Jacob Mysteries
The Fifth Grave (A chilling Wiltshire crime thriller)
Angel of Death (A chilling Wiltshire crime thriller)
The Operator
A standalone action-thriller for fans of Jack Reacher and Jason Bourne
Visit Rob on the links below for all the latest news and information:
Email: robjonesnovels@gmail.com
Twitter: @AuthorRobJones
Facebook: http://bit.ly/RobJonesNovels
Website: www.robjonesnovels.com
For Boo
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Other Books by Rob Jones:
The Hunter Files
The Joe Hawke Series
The Cairo Sloane Series
The Avalon Adventures
The Raiders Series
The Harry Bane Thriller Series
The DCI Jacob Mystery Series
The Operator
PROLOGUE
July 1559, Mayan Empire
The Dominican friar from northern Spain struggled against his bonds, desperate to free his trembling hands from the leather straps that held them behind his back. The horror unfolding before his eyes, high in the temple at the top of the pyramid, had shaken him to his core. Thousands of miles from his homeland and surrounded by the strange and mysterious Mopan tribe, he knew this time there would be no escape from the violent and bloody fate that awaited him.
He muttered another prayer. But for all his prayers, Fray Alfonso Montesino still had his doubts about the afterlife and his place within it. When he heard the mangled screams of Fray Juan Lopez at the top of the pyramid’s vertex, he knew any doubts either of them had about the hereafter would soon be settled once and for all.
All around him, Maya warriors screamed and whooped, and above their cries, a sinister, primal music began thumping in the murky twilight. Still trying to wrench his hands apart, Montesino looked over to the eastern base of the pyramid and saw the musicians. They were walking in single file, playing wooden flutes and clay trumpets and banging kettle drums and shaking golden pellet-bell rattles for the god of death. A man with a flint knife joined them, and led the sombre procession toward the pyramid.
One by one, they made their way up the wide stone steps leading to the top of the colossal pyramid where burning torches lit the temple. The sound of the sacrifice song and the cries of the revellers mingled with the calls of some exotic birds high in the canopies of the ceiba trees behind him. Seeing his friend and colleague screaming for his life as the ritual drew nearer, Alfonso fought hard to keep his last meal down, but failed. Leaning over, he threw up all over the sand at the base of the giant structure.
As the men ascended the steps, drawing closer to the top, the musicians played faster. The flutes chirped and yelped, and the drums banged harder and harder. The pellet-bells rattled like angry snakes. They stripped Juan of his clothes, leaving him totally naked in the low evening light. Working to the meticulous rhythm of the drumbeat, the men dipped crude brushes into clay pots and began painting their victim a rich, vibrant blue. They made this azul maya color from crushing the leaves of the añil, a kind of indigo, and mixing them with clay. Alfonso had seen it used many times before, including for sacrifices, but never had he dreamed it might end up being painted on him and his old friend and mentor.
“Por esta santa unción y por Su bondadosa misericordia te ayude el Señor por la gracia del Espíritu Santo para que…” The hurriedly whispered words fell from Alfonso’s lips like dead leaves blowing on the levant winds back on his Spanish farm. He had uttered the Last Rites more times than he was able to remember, but this was the first and last time he would say them for himself, and his dying friend. As he finished the sacred words, the moment overcame him and he began to sob. “…libre de tus pecados, te conceda la salvación y te conforte en tu enfermedad.”
The men tied his friend down on the sacrificial altar and stepped away from him. Then the priest began to chant and cry a mantra over and over, arms raised to the heavens and the flint knife gripped in his hand. What happened next, Alfonso saw with his own eyes, but he did not believe it. When a religious man saw a heathen priest summon a god to make the clouds swirl in circles, and raise the wind, and pelt a tropical landscape with hailstones, he
