‘The ancient Maya were a very proud race, Sturmbannfuhrer, and their victory ceremonies included the sacrifice of enemies. Centuries ago, teeming ranks of painted warriors thundered onto this very ball court, stamping to the rhythm of pounding drums and the scent of burning temple fires. They led their prisoners up those steps over there.’ Levi pointed towards a large stone at the top. ‘They ripped their hearts out while they were still beating. Then they decapitated them. The last time I was here I found several skulls in the jungle behind the ball court.’ Levi was more than happy to distract von Hei?en with Himmler’s obsession with craniometry.
‘And you didn’t take any back to Austria?’ von Hei?en probed.
‘Museums might be interested, but I don’t collect skulls, Sturmbannfuhrer, nor do I disturb sacred ground.’ Roberto Arana, the shaman, had reminded Levi of the curse the ancient Egyptians placed on the tomb of Tutankhamen: Death shall come on swift wing to him who disturbs the peace of the King.
Levi knew that those who had opened Tutankhamen’s tomb had succumbed to mysterious deaths. Roberto had warned that the Maya protected their pyramids and sacred ground with equal ferocity. ‘The secondary jungle has taken over,’ Levi observed, looking past the ball court, ‘and it’s very thick now, but the skull racks where the Maya displayed the heads of their victims should still be there.’
‘Excellent,’ von Hei?en exclaimed. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the measurements of any skulls there are well within the cephalic index for the Nordic Aryans.’
‘Ah, yes. The mathematical formula for the shape of a head, on which you base your judgements on intelligence and race. If I remember rightly, it’s the ratio of head breadth to head length multiplied by a hundred. A fairly simplistic way of looking at things, I would think. Although your Reichsfuhrer seems to place great faith in it.’
‘As do I,’ von Hei?en replied icily. ‘Perhaps you should stick to your compass bearings, Professor, and leave the intricacies of craniometry to those who understand it.’
Levi said nothing. Clearly von Hei?en was unaware of Mayan beliefs about the shape of the human skull. An elongated head was considered to be a sign of nobility, and Levi had discovered that the ancient Maya had bound babies’ heads, compressing them between boards for days to change the shape of their skulls.
It was midafternoon by the time the team of indentured labourers from the local village, beads of sweat glistening on their brown skin, hacked their way far enough into the dense secondary undergrowth surrounding the ball court.
‘Maestro!’
Levi moved forward but von Hei?en and Father Ehrlichmann both shouldered him out of the way.
‘There! Look at the shapes,’ von Hei?en enthused.
The local villagers, the modern descendants of the Maya, had uncovered the first of several grisly rows of skulls. Macabre, eyeless sockets stared at the intruders. Levi shivered. The heads remained impaled on the moss- covered rack, just as the original inhabitants of the city had left them more than a thousand years before. To disturb them now seemed to invite the retribution Roberto had warned of, Levi thought. Not far away, a large masacuata stirred at the sounds of its territory being invaded. The boa constrictor was the largest snake in Central America, and this one measured well over five metres.
Von Hei?en ran his hands over the first of the skulls. Centuries ago, the racks had been drenched in drying blood, the stench of death heavy in the air, but now every skull was creamy smooth and yellowed with age. ‘Look at the size of them! Aryan!’
Father Ehrlichmann reached into his canvas satchel for a pair of sliding callipers. ‘An index of around seventy-five,’ he announced after he’d finished measuring the first skull. ‘Unusually broad, but I think Reichsfuhrer Himmler will be pleased.’
Again, Levi said nothing. Ehrlichmann might be an acknowledged authority on the dubious science of craniometry, he thought, but like von Hei?en, Ehrlichmann seemed unaware of ancient Mayan customs.
A week later, the Junkers returned on the first of its weekly resupply runs. Levi leaned back in the canvas chair outside his tent and looked towards the skies, his spirits lifting. Perhaps there would be a letter from Ramona. The aircraft circled the clearing in the jungle and then disappeared before lining up for its final approach.
Inside the plane, il Signor Alberto Felici tugged nervously at his large black moustache. Beads of sweat ran down his pale, pudgy face. He detested flying, and the DC-2 flight from Rome to Guatemala City, followed by the flight from Guatemala City in the Junkers, had done nothing to lessen his apprehension. Felici maintained a fierce grip on the armrest, but he needn’t have worried. Under the patient tutelage of Oberst Krueger, Leutnant Muller eased the Junkers onto the rough strip, turned at the far end and taxied back. He cut the power and the propellers phutted to a stop in quick succession.
Levi watched as a bald-headed, portly little man dressed in a fawn safari suit and carrying a large leather briefcase descended from the Junkers. Von Hei?en and Father Ehrlichmann were waiting to welcome him. They disappeared into von Hei?en’s tent and Levi wondered who would take the trouble to travel to such a remote part of the world, but he was not left wondering for long. The visitor, accompanied by Father Ehrlichmann, emerged almost immediately and they both headed in Levi’s direction.
‘Il Signor Felici is an advisor to Pope Pius XI,’ Father Ehrlichmann enthused after he’d made the introductions, ‘and he’s here on a fact-finding mission at the personal direction of Cardinal Pacelli, the Cardinal Secretary of State.’
‘Why would the Vatican be interested in the Maya?’ Levi asked politely after Ehrlichmann had left.
‘May I call you Levi?’ Felici asked smoothly. Levi smiled and nodded. ‘And I’d be grateful if we could keep our conversations confidential: the Nazi machine is not always to be trusted.’
Levi nodded again. Perhaps, at last, he had a friend in court.
‘The possible existence of a Maya codex has not gone unnoticed in the Vatican. Bishop de Landa’s burning of the Mayan libraries was a terrible loss to civilisation, and although the Vatican will never publicly admit to any involvement, privately, the support for this expedition is in recognition of a grave injustice.’
‘It will take a lot more than that to make amends, Signor Felici. Imagine the outcry if the Maya had invaded Rome and burned all the public libraries and art museums!’
‘It’s been a painful lesson,’ Felici agreed, ‘and one that should not be forgotten, but in the meantime I’d very much appreciate a briefing on your progress.’
‘What do you expect this codex to contain?’ Felici asked after Levi had dismissed the Nazi’s craniometry theories and brought the papal envoy up to speed on the expedition’s findings.
‘The Nazis think it will provide proof of a link between the Aryans and the Maya, but I think they’re wrong. The Maya were amongst the greatest astronomers of the ancient world, and from my study of their hieroglyphics, I’m convinced they’re trying to warn us of a rare planetary alignment that will occur in 2012. It won’t affect you or I, of course, but anyone who’s alive in 2012 will need to prepare against the full force of the cosmos. And there may be a link between the warning in the codex and the warnings of the Virgin at Fatima, which makes me wonder why the three secrets the Virgin entrusted to the children at Fatima have been suppressed. Are they just a threat to the papacy, or do they speak of the annihilation of our civilisation?’
‘I wasn’t aware they had been suppressed,’ Felici replied, feigning surprise.
‘The Maya predicted the Marian appearance at Fatima, a thousand years before the secrets were transcribed,’ Levi continued, searching Felici’s face for any reaction.
‘How?’
Levi smiled enigmatically. ‘They left a warning on a stela which was found not far from here. We still have a lot to learn about the Maya, Signor Felici. We’re only scratching the surface. Astronomers have now confirmed their predictions for 2012, down to the last second. If humankind is to have any chance of responding, it’s vital this codex be found.’
Von Hei?en poured another generous shot of whisky into his tumbler.
‘Whisky, Signor?’ von Hei?en offered Felici, who had returned to von Hei?en’s tent.
‘Thank you, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer. You’re well set up out here.’
‘I like to think so, and, please, it’s Karl,’ von Hei?en replied, conscious of Himmler’s dictum to treat the papal envoy well. ‘So, what did the Professor have to say?’
‘He’s convinced the lost Maya Codex exists, although I wouldn’t trust him, Karl. He is, after all, a Jew,’ Felici intoned, raising his glass. ‘ Prost.’
‘Yes, but don’t worry, we’re watching him very closely. Prost! Did he give you any idea what the codex might contain?’
