the holes in the partition, and she fought to quell a fit of the giggles.
‘It is a very serious sin! Matthew makes it very clear that when your right hand causes you to sin, it should be cut off. The Catholic God is a very jealous God, and if you abuse your body for an act of self-gratification, that is sexual idolatry, a mortal sin for which you will surely burn in hell. If you don’t turn away from this false faith, and if you don’t reject sex for pure pleasure, I can’t help you.’
‘Thank you, Father. Can I ask how you manage to do without sex?’
‘How dare you? How dare you? You will leave this church now!’
Aleta slipped out of the confessional, leaving Jennings fuming on the other side of the partition.
Security around the Vandenberg Air Force Base was tighter than usual. A heavy swell was coming in across a dark Pacific Ocean, and a searchlight probed the white caps as additional guards patrolled the Point Sal beach. The specially modified thirty-tonne LGM-30 Minuteman missile was in the last stages of being readied in test-launch silo Lima Foxtrot-26. A short distance away, the technicians were carrying out a series of final checks on the equipment on board Looking Glass. The crew of the E6-Mercury command and control aircraft were already strapped in their seats. They would vector the missile into a precise position for the massive ELF attack on the Iranian tunnel systems, an attack that would penetrate as far as the earth’s core. Nearly 4000 kilometres to the north, the command and control centre at Gakona was at full strength, where the scientists and technicians were testing HAARP’s elaborate circuitry. Tyler Jackson shifted nervously in his swivel chair, weighing up his options. The countdown to H-hour had begun.
‘The hide of that hypocritical bastard,’ Aleta swore, as they powered back across the lake towards San Marcos, the three trunks of diaries weighing down the stern.
‘Did he say it was okay to masturbate with your left hand?’
She gave O’Connor a playful cuff over the ear. ‘Do you think we’ll make it?’ she asked, suddenly more serious.
‘It’ll be touch and go. The solstice dawn’s the day after tomorrow and Tikal’s over 300 kilometres away. When Wiley discovers what’s happened to ‘Lloyd Bridges’ and ‘Buster Crabb’ out there, he’ll be incandescent. But Jose’s organised a four-wheel drive so we can take the back road out of here – just in case Wiley’s lined up any more guerrillas to block our path.’
Howard Wiley’s anger rose as Ellen Rodriguez brought him up to date via the secure video link from the US Embassy in Guatemala City. Wiley’s face was once again the colour of his hair, and he clenched and unclenched his right fist.
‘The body was found floating on Lake Atitlan, not far from the shore near San Marcos. The authorities have not identified it, but it’s almost certainly one of ours… found in a full diving suit with a knife wound to the throat.’
‘How can you be sure it’s one of ours?’ Wiley rasped.
‘My contact tells me the body has a US Navy SEAL emblem tattooed on his left arm.’
‘Shit! And the other one?’
‘Missing… presumed dead.’
‘That’s one hell of an assumption, Rodriguez!’
‘They were after O’Connor,’ Rodriguez replied calmly, ‘and he was seen in San Pedro after the first body was found.’
‘So where is he now?’
‘My guess is that both he and Weizman are headed for Tikal.’
‘We briefed five more assets yesterday. Are they there yet?’
‘As yet, they’ve not reported in.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Rodriguez! What sort of a nickel-and-dime show are you running down there?’
Rodriguez kept her counsel.
‘Get your ass up to Tikal and take charge of this bullshit. I want roadblocks, round-the-clock surveillance, and I want Tutankhamen and Nefertiti dead as soon as they show their faces… and I want that codex!’ With that, the screen went blank.
Rodriguez shook her head in frustration. Whatever the Wileys of this world thought of Guatemala, it was a sovereign country, and roadblocks might be a bit tricky.
O’Connor kept to the speed limit, not wanting to attract any unwarranted attention, and as the hours slipped by, the stunted lowland bushes of Peten gradually gave way to the deep rainforests of Tikal. The site of the ancient Mayan city was now a national park, and O’Connor slowed to a stop at the gates.
The park attendant waited until the old four-wheel drive was out of sight before he called the number he’d been given. He had no idea who the man and woman in the battered Toyota were, nor did he much care. They matched the description he’d been given, and the American woman had paid him handsomely.
‘So what’s the plan? Or are you just making it up as we go along?’ Aleta asked.
‘Pretty much,’ O’Connor replied with his disarming grin. The four-wheel drive bounced alarmingly out of a large pothole. ‘There’s a pretty reasonable lodge where we could stay the night, only a few hundred metres from the pyramids.’
‘Won’t they be looking there?’
‘They will, which is why we’ll avoid it… A pity really.’
‘So where does that leave us? If you can get that mind of yours above your navel.’ Aleta was smiling.
‘Before we left San Marcos, Jose told me he’d be in contact with one of the elders in a village across the river. Jose’s taken a more direct route, so he’s probably there already. It’s the same village your grandfather visited. According to Jose, there’s a track about a kilometre ahead that branches off the main road.’
The track, not much used except by the villagers, was barely wide enough for the Toyota to pass. O’Connor drove slowly through the overhanging undergrowth. Vines and ferns grew abundantly between the huge mahogany and ceiba trees. Forty minutes later they came to the river, and the same bridge Levi had crossed seventy years before.
‘Aren’t you going to hide the vehicle?’ Aleta asked, as she hoisted her backpack with one of the figurines.
‘No point,’ O’Connor replied, shouldering his own backpack, which contained the other two. ‘Langley will have a twenty-four-hour satellite footprint over this place, and they’ll already have this vehicle fingered. But once we get over the bridge, it will be hard for them to track us under the canopy. They’ll need people on the ground, although they’ll be working on that too.’ O’Connor negotiated the rickety rope bridge and Aleta followed, treading warily on the worn cedar logs that swayed above the swift-flowing river nearly ten metres below. Safely on the other side, O’Connor led the way, pushing through the foliage along the narrow track that wound towards the old Mayan village. Suddenly he stopped, and Aleta almost cannoned into him. He moved off the track, motioning Aleta to follow. ‘We’ve got company again,’ he mouthed, putting his finger to his lips and pointing up the track.
Aleta peered through the thick jungle, but she could see nothing. ‘More assets?’ she whispered.
‘I’m not sure. It could be men from the village… I caught a movement about 150 metres away.’
Aleta jumped as the jungle parted beside her and Jose Arana stepped into view.
‘You are right to be cautious. Your enemies are not far from here; they arrived in Tikal last night.’
‘You startled me, Jose!’ Aleta remonstrated, her heart still racing.
‘You didn’t waste any time, O’Connor said, acknowledging Arana’s mastery of the jungle.
Arana smiled disarmingly. ‘There is very little time to waste. Follow me, and we’ll join the welcoming party.’
In the seventy intervening years since Levi Weizman had been in the village, little had changed. There had been a small increase in the population, but smoke from the same cooking fires drifted towards the river. The women still soaked maize kernels in lime, grinding them into masa dough, and the griddles were warming, ready for the tortillas. The dinner menu hadn’t changed much either: a savoury aroma of chicken simmering in jalapeno chillies, diced peppers, oregano and limes wafted into the jungle. The younger women, the grand-daughters of those Levi had observed, had taken over the task of working the backstrap looms and they were weaving the huipils and traje in the same bright colours and designs that identified the village.
The elders, the descendants of those who had once ruled Tikal, were dressed in their traditional red and yellow cotton shirts, pan-talons and straw hats. O’Connor and Aleta were solemnly introduced. No one knew better than the elders the magnitude of what might be about to take place.
