“Not unless they’ve done a lot of urban renewal in the last ten years.”
“We have to sleep in the car tonight, I got dibs on the backseat,” says Harry.
“As long as you don’t snore,” says Joselyn. “You do, you’re sleeping in the jungle.”
“We’ll find something. As I remember, there were some archaeological tourism lodges in the area. We might not get electricity or Wi-Fi, but they should have beds. The ruins used to draw a fair number of tourists. I don’t know if they still do or not. The cenotes used to get some divers as well.”
“What’s a cenote?” says Harry.
“It’s a pool of fresh water. Some are underwater caves. The Yucatan is dotted with them. Similar to Florida,” I tell him. “The entire area is flat as a board with a low canopy of jungle. Very dry in places. It has coral underneath with aquifers, subterranean rivers that flow through the porous rock. Every once in a while, there’ll be an opening to these underground rivers, a small, deep pool with steep perpendicular sides.
“Floridians call them sinkholes. The Spaniards called them cenote s. The Mayans believed they were sacred. A source of water. They built their cities around them. At one point it’s estimated that Coba may have had as many as a million people living in the area.”
“You’re kidding,” says Joselyn.
“No. Not even half of the ruins are excavated. Thieves used to come in at night and dig for treasure. The government tried to keep them out, but the area is so large it’s like trying to fence off the city of L.A. Now I’m sure the authorities have bigger fish to fry with the cartels. There is also a lake as I recall, and gators-what the Mexicans call crocadillos. I was told to stay away from the lake. I remember it had deep muddy banks. The crocs have been known to take a few tourists who ventured too close to the water.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” says Harry. “Anything else I should look out for?”
“Yeah. A man with a long sharp knife,” I tell him.
“How are we going to find this place? The facility with the antenna array?” says Joselyn. “Assuming it even exists.”
“I’ve been wondering myself. But it might not be as difficult as we think.”
“Tell me,” she says.
“One thing I remember from the last time I was here were the cellular telephone towers. The jungle canopy out there…” I gesture out to the left as we drive south along the highway. “In most places, it’s no more than thirty feet high. The cell towers stuck up above it like fence posts. You could see them everywhere. A large antenna array is going to stick out,” I tell her.
“So all we have to do is climb a tree,” says Harry. “And hope we’re in the right place.”
“Actually I was thinking more like a small airport,” I tell him. “Do you see anything like that on the map?” I ask Joselyn.
“Not on this, but then it’s not much of a map,” she says. “Wait a second. I thought I saw something…” Joselyn turns the map over and looks at the other side. “Here it is. Beaches, cenotes, archaeological sites. ATV rentals. Ultralight flights.” She looks at me. “I don’t know if you’re up for something like that.”
“As long as it gets high enough and stays in the air, it’s fine by me,” I tell her. “Where do they fly from?”
“According to the ad, a place called Playa del Carmen.”
“It’s up ahead,” says Harry. “I just saw a sign a few miles back.”
“Let’s see if we can find the airport,” I tell them.
Chapter Forty-Six
It was nearly three in the morning when Bugsy began barking. Sarah stirred from a deep sleep, unsure what it was.
The dog had his nose right up against the bedroom door that was closed.
“Bugsy, go to sleep!”
But he didn’t. Instead he barked again. This time Sarah heard a faint knock.
“Quiet,” she told the dog. She got up, threw on a robe, and opened the bedroom door. Bugsy took off down the hall like a shot. Sarah followed more cautiously down the dark hallway. There was another light rap on the front door as she approached the living room.
Bugsy stood there like a statue, looking at the door and growling. The safety chain was latched. Sarah, in bare feet, moved silently toward the door and peered carefully through the peephole.
“What in the world?” She slid the chain off, grabbed Bugsy by the collar, and opened the door. “What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”
“Sorry,” said Adin. “I hope I didn’t wake Herman.” He was whispering. He reached out and touched Bugsy on the nose. The dog immediately picked up the familiar scent and relaxed. “I didn’t want to ring the bell, but I had to talk to you. It’s very important.”
“Can’t it wait until morning?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to stand out here in the hallway and talk.”
“Then I suppose you better come in.”
Adin stepped inside, and Sarah closed the door. There was something strange about him. It was the way he was dressed. He was wearing dark slacks, a black turtleneck slipover jersey, and a navy blue blazer. It was a strange outfit for the middle of the night.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“I am. I’ll be leaving in just a few minutes.”
“Where?” asked Sarah.
“There’s no time for that now. Listen to me. I have to tell you something.”
“Come in and sit down. I’ll turn on some lights.” Sarah started to turn toward the living room.
“No.” Adin grabbed her arm. He was still whispering. “Listen! I have something very important to tell you. And then I need your help.”
“Sure, if I can,” said Sarah.
“First I have to tell you the truth. I am not who you think I am.”
“Excuse me?” said Sarah.
“Part of what I told you is true, but not all of it. I am with the Israeli government, that much is true. But I am not with the Israeli Security Agency, and I didn’t come here to be trained. I’m assigned to the Mossad, Special Operations, Israel’s foreign intelligence agency. I came here to gather certain information and to send it back to my handlers in Tel Aviv.”
“What are you telling me? That you’re a spy?”
“It’s not a nice word, but the answer is yes.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I need your help.”
“That’s not a good way to get it,” she said.
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to sugarcoat it. It’s a long story. There are things I cannot tell you. I’m just going to have to ask you to trust me.”
“Go on,” said Sarah.
“Do you know where your father is at this moment?”
“Why? Why do you want to know?”
“Because I suspect he’s in a great deal of danger. I know you’ve talked to him in the last few days. I was here when he called. Listen, I may be able to help him.”
“How?”
“If you tell me what he’s doing and where he is, I can help. Trust me. Tell me, when you talked to him, did he ever say anything about something called Project Thor?”
Sarah thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. I would have remembered that. What is it?”
