Читать книгу The Luck of the Maya - Theodore Brazeau - Страница 8

CARLOS

The next morning, we swung south to San Luis Potosí and east toward Ciudad Valles. Then we headed for Tamazunchale, where we spent the night, getting yet another oil change. We had bought some tools in San Luis and had stopped to hammer and twist the nasty scars Archie’s poor truck had suffered. The result wasn’t pretty, but it no longer looked like it was riddled with embarrassing bullet holes. Worse, it looked more like it had been violated by someone with anger problems and a pickaxe.

The following day, we traveled through Hidalgo state on a rather slow, but very scenic, ride among the mountains through Ixmiquilpan and on to the capital city of Pachuca. The highway was good, but the curves slowed us down, as did all our gawking at the incredible mountain scenery. México is full of beautiful scenery and this is some of the best.

As we drove, Lucy complained about the Houston office, and speculated about what had happened to betray our movements. “I still think there has to be a traitor, a leak,” she said. “Now I am beginning to understand what happened before. That same traitor got my cousin Gonzalo killed, and your two friends, too. We didn’t know then how they found us, but now I do. There is going to be some payback for this. I don’t like my friends and cousins being made dead.”

She went on to tell us what had happened. “We started out, much as we did from Laredo, except we crossed the border at Brownsville and Matamoros, then went south through Ciudad Victoria to Tampico. We were twenty-five miles or so south of Tampico when we were ambushed by four guys in a sleek looking car.”

“It was similar to what happened to us, just now, except that they started shooting from behind. We were armed and returned their fire, so they dropped back a ways.”

“’Let’s not speed up’ decided Gonzalo, ‘That’s what they want and it won’t help.’ So we continued on at a moderate speed, taking an occasional shot at them to keep them from getting too close, hoping to reach Tuxpan. We thought we were going to make it, when suddenly they sped up and charged at us despite our shooting. They swerved and hit us on the left rear with the heavy car, spinning us around and sending us off the road!”

“We charged headlong down the embankment, Gonzalo trying desperately to keep us upright. Finally, he couldn’t hold it any more and we turned over. Thanks to Gonzalo, we hadn’t been going that fast and the ride down the embankment, even though downhill, had slowed us further because of the soft ground.”

“I was thrown clear, and briefly knocked out. My fingers seemed welded to that pistol and I kept a grip on it throughout my tumble. The others survived the crash, but then the four pursuers came running down from the road, firing as they came.”

“Gonzalo, or one of the others, got in a shot that stopped one of the attackers, but the others kept shooting and, by sheer volume, shot down all three of my friends.”

“I was just coming out of my daze at that moment, and realized where I was and what was happening. I aimed as carefully as I could and, despite being hardly able to see, was able to hit two of them. Then I was out of bullets. Fortunately, the third one, the little guy, didn’t realize that. He scrambled up that embankment faster that I would have thought possible and took off in the car.”

“I checked on my friends, and my cousin Gonzalo. There was nothing I could do for them. I straightened myself out as best I could and hiked down the highway to get away from the scene. I flagged down a Flecha Roja bus for the ride into Tuxpan.”

“From Tuxpan, I called Houston and told them what had happened. John and Archie came down as fast as they could and, with a generous application of mordidas, covered up the incident and retrieved the bodies.”

“At the time, I didn’t suspect treachery. Now I do. I’m sure of it.”

We drove on in silence with Jeb and I both wondering what the hell we had gotten ourselves into this time.

LUCY

When we stopped in Pachuca, I left the guys at the hotel after supper, nursing their coffee, and went to visit some cousins I hadn’t seen in a long time—second cousins, actually, but we had been very close growing up.

“¡Lucita!” Laura screamed when she saw me. “¿De veras eres tu? Is it really you? Where did you come from? Is that your truck? What are all those holes?”

I told her the story of our recent adventures and asked her if she knew where I could get a couple of guns. Guns were strictly against the law in México, except for things like hunting, but that didn’t mean people didn’t have them. Especially in my family.

Laura and I visited for a while, got caught up on all the family news. I didn’t know when I’d see her again. Houston is a long way north and Chetumal is a long way south. When we made our tearful goodbyes, she handed me a heavy package and we hugged “¡Vaya con Dios!” We said to each other.

CARLOS

We stopped in Pachuca for a great supper of mole poblano in the hotel dining room. Lucy left to run some errands that resulted in our possessing a couple of pistols and some ammunition.

I hoped we wouldn’t be arrested for anything. We had proper tourist papers, but we were looking less and less like tourists. I was glad to see that the firearms went into a little box welded onto the frame of the truck. Jeb and I hadn’t even known the box was there. You don’t want to be caught with guns in México. Not good. We seldom carry them and usually it’s not worth the risk. After our recent experiences, though, we were glad enough to have them.

That Lucy is full of surprises. Always was. Still is.

The next day we skirted México City on our way through Puebla to Veracruz.

We got back into story telling mode, with Lucy leading the way with another of her childhood Mayan memories. A traditional story, she said.

“Listen up. This is it.”

And there was Zipacna, the eldest son of Seven-Macaw. “I am the maker of mountains,” he said.

One day, Zipacna was bathing at the seashore, when the Four Hundred Boys came by, dragging a large log. They had cut a big tree to make a beam for their house.

“What are you boys doing?” Zipacna asked.

“We have this log, but it is heavy. We can’t lift it to carry it home,” answered the Four Hundred Boys.

“I’ll carry it,” Zipacna offered. “Where does it go? What do you want it for?”

“It is a beam for our house,” they replied. Then he took it all the way to their house.

”You could stay with us,” the Four Hundred said. “We could use some help tomorrow to carry another beam. Do you have a father and mother?”

“Not any more,” answered Zipacna. “I will help you tomorrow.”

Later the Four Hundred Boys discussed Zipacna. “What will we do with him? He is dangerous to us. He is very strong.”

“We should kill him. Let’s dig a deep hole and throw him in and then throw logs down on him. That should do him in.”

And when they had dug the deep hole, they said to Zipacna, “We can’t do any more. Will you dig some more dirt?”

“OK,” Zipacna replied. And he went down into the hole and began to dig. But he had realized that he was to be killed, and had dug a side tunnel for his own safety. He passed the dirt up to the Four Hundred.

Meanwhile, the Four Hundred Boys were dragging big logs to the lip of the hole. They threw them down on Zipacna, but Zipacna wasn’t there. He had hidden in his side tunnel and was safe.

“He doesn’t speak. Isn’t he down there?” they asked themselves. “Keep listening. He should scream when he dies.”

And then he did scream a single scream. “Good,” they said. “He’s done for.”

“Let’s make our pulque to dedicate the new house. It will take three days to make and after three days we will dedicate our house.”

“On the day after tomorrow, we will see if ants come out of the ground where Zipacna is stinking and rotting.”

But Zipacna was listening from his hole, and cut off the hair from his head and cut off his nails. He gave them all to the ants, who swarmed to the surface carrying them.

“He is finished,” the Four Hundred said. “We’ve done it!” And they thought he was dead.

“And then, on the third day, their pulque was ready. They drank of it to dedicate their house, and became very drunk.

While they were in a drunken sleep, Zipacna came out of his hole and brought the entire house down on them, flattening them completely. They were all killed. Not even one or two or three survived.

And so died the Four Hundred Boys. It was once said that they became a constellation in the sky, called the Hundred, or the Pleiades, but maybe not.

“That’s it,” said Lucy. “A happy ending for Zipacna.”

“A happy ending? Mass murder? Lucy, that story makes even less sense than the first one.” Jeb complained. “Where do those four hundred people come from? And Zipacna was just trying to help them, so they tried to bump him off? What’s the moral here? Don’t get drunk on pulque? Where do you get these stories?”

“Well actually, this one comes right from the Popul Vuh,” she replied, defensively. “Well, maybe not right from it, but through my Grandfather and he was very reliable. I think. And I may have forgotten a detail or two. I was just a little kid, after all.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you more stories later, until they start to make sense to you. Maybe not. Right now, I’m going to take a little nap.”

It was after dark when we pulled into Veracruz, which was good for our policy of keeping a low profile, although I thought any kind of a low profile was going to be difficult to maintain with Lucy along. She directed us to a warehouse in a not-too-wonderful district back from the waterfront. We parked the truck inside and, following Lucy’s directions, trimmed our beards to a more distinguished look, changed into some of our more touristy looking clothes, combed our hair and, looking much more presentable, got into a blue Ford four door that was conveniently parked there with the key in it.

“This is my uncle’s car,” Lucy had said. “His warehouse, too, for that matter, so it’ll be all right to leave the pickup here. Let’s park it over there, out of the way, and leave the keys in it.”

Lucy pocketed one of the pistols, a .380 Browning, and left the other one in the safe-box in the pickup.

“I don’t think we’ll need this, but I didn’t think so last time, either, and look what happened. Por si acaso, just in case.” Lucy said.

Lucy, I said gently, as we drove off, Jeb and I are feeling a little left out here. There seem to be a few things you aren’t sharing with us. So far, so good, I said, but I have a strange feeling that some future surprises may not be so convenient. Do you think you can help us out here?

I felt like strangling her, but thought I’d try gentle first. Besides, I suspected I was falling in love and it scared the hell out of me. Not love, I corrected, just like. But I didn’t know what would happen if I actually touched her. As I found out later, that would not have been a good idea. If there had been any strangling involved, I would have been the stranglee.

Lucy was driving. “Soon,” she said, “It looks like we’re in the clear so far. I didn’t want you to know too much, just in case. Besides, it’s a long story and you probably won’t believe any of it.” I didn’t like the sound of that. Jeb started shifting around the way he does when he’s about to make trouble. I poked him.

Just in case of exactly what, I asked, still gentle. And maybe we would believe it, you never know. “Well, there actually are a couple of minor things I haven’t gone over with you yet. But I will. At the hotel. After dinner.”

Still in gentle mode, I decided to settle for that. Besides I was hungry and dinner sounded good. We pulled in to the parking lot at the Hotel Diligencias just off the Plaza, Veracruz’s best. We checked in separately. Husband and wife for Lucy and me, 15 minutes later a separate tourist persona for a disgruntled Jeb. I wasn’t sure what the husband and wife routine was all about, but it sounded promising.

Dinner was good, huachinango a la veracruzana, the hotel’s favorite and one of mine. We walked to La Parroquia for coffees and beers. La Parroquia is one of my preferred places in that part of the world. It’s open to the street on the square, white tile inside, with several thick white pillars holding up the rest of the building, and has been there for a hundred years, at least. The coffee specialty, café con leche served in thick transparent glasses with constant refills of hot coffee and hot milk, is the best anywhere.

As always in a public place, we chose a table toward the back where we could watch the street for anything unusual. So we were feeling as mellow and relaxed as if we were actual tourists. I supposed Lucy planned it that way, but I didn’t object.

“I’ll start by describing our ‘Item’,” Lucy said, “It is very distinctive looking and is about the size of a baseball, a little bigger”.

“The size of a softball?” Jeb asked.

“Yes, about that size, maybe a little bigger,” she said. “I haven’t seen it, but it has been described to me that way. It looks to be made of solid gold, but can’t be because it is not heavy enough. It is an outer shell of gold and has something else inside it. More on that later.”

“It is carved, or cast, in the shape of a head. A Mayan head complete with the decorations of a king or a god. I don’t know its age or what king or god it would be, but it is ancient. The first firm mention we have is over five thousand years ago and it was ancient even then. Legend has it that it dates from before the start of the former Long Count Calendar. That would put it over ten thousand years ago. Most say it is older than that. Much older, perhaps older than the stars.”

“It is said to be dangerous to touch it. Not directly dangerous—it won’t bite you—but it can change your life in bad ways. Or good ways. But usually bad. It brings luck, and that luck can be bad or it can be good, but the choice isn’t yours. This is the biggest risk in our venture.”

“As to our more immediate concerns, our next move is to get out of here. We will leave early tomorrow morning and we’ll check out about six. I’d like to leave earlier, but it might attract attention. Jeb, you leave about six fifteen. We’ll meet at the docks. There will be a shrimp boat at Muelle 9. ‘Truinfo’ is painted on the front and ‘El Triunfo” on the back.

“Triumph. An optimist, then,” Jeb said.

“He is that, but don’t read too much into it. El Triunfo is the little town the Captain grew up in,” Lucy said. “If I’m not there, tell him my name and your name and when and where you last saw me. Let him take it from there.” The little smile was there, but not enough to panic me.

Then Lucy turned pale. No smile at all now. I’ve seen people turn suddenly pale before, including myself. It is seldom a good sign. “Meet me by the back exit,” she said, “in two minutes.” She headed in the direction of the restrooms, her face turned away from the street entrance.

I had a pretty good idea about what had spooked her. I had been watching the street, too. I always did. Did you see him? I asked Jeb. “Yeah,” he said. “The runty guy in the white sport coat? Looks out of place.” That’s the one, I said. He may be a runt, but he looks mean and dangerous. He’s not from here and he’s not a tourist. He’s walked past twice. I don’t think he spotted Lucy, it’s darker in here, but he might have.

LUCY

We checked into the hotel. Carlos and Jeb were getting antsy about the mission, wanting to know more. I didn’t blame them after what had happened on the highway. I planned to tell them what I could. It wasn’t secret, just difficult to explain, but I’d do the best I could. I had planned to wait until we were safely aboard El Triunfo, but their impatience was getting the better of them.

First, we had supper in the hotel dining room and then went to La Parroquia for drinks. I had started to tell them about the mission when right out on the sidewalk in front of La Parroquia I spotted Macalusa! The Runt himself! Just the sight of him made me choke up with fury! That pendejo had killed Gonzalo!

Much as I wanted to run out there and attack him, I thought I had better use some common sense. For one thing, he was unlikely to be alone. For another, we had more important things to do.

I headed for the lady’s room, did what I could to not look like myself, and went out the back way to the hotel.

CARLOS

We headed for the rest rooms and the back door. Lucy was trembling, not from fear, I thought. From anger. She spoke rapidly. “We meet at Jeb’s room. I’m hoping they don’t know about you two, but they’ll recognize me. Jeb had better leave now, and you stay back five or ten minutes.” She ducked into the ladies room. Jeb popped the back door and disappeared. I pretended to be talking on one of the pay phones in the corridor.

Lucy reappeared from the ‘Damas’. At least I was pretty sure it was Lucy, she looked different. Her hair was up, her lipstick and mascara gone and her clothes somehow looked frumpier. The little reading glasses were a nice touch. With a little finger wave she disappeared through the back door.

I thought I’d wait a minute or two. Then I saw the runt out in the restaurant with another, much larger man. They seemed to be arguing, and then the short man, looking disgusted, headed my way. I didn’t think he would know me, but I turned toward the telephone. To my surprise, he barged into the ladies room.

I heard a shout, then some Spanish language that should not be coming from a nice ladies room. Two young women came running out, giggling and shrieking, followed by my runty friend with a middle-aged señora close on his heels.

She was ruining a fairly nice umbrella on his small head. “Goddam it, lady!” he shouted in English. He may be little, but he could move fast when motivated. Everyone was staring, the waiters, the customers. A policeman on the outer walk seemed to be taking an interest. I heard laughter as I slipped out the back door.

We met in Jeb’s room as planned. I recounted Mr. Runt’s ladies room fiasco and we all had a good, if nervous, laugh at his expense. “He’s not really called Runt,” Lucy said, “at least, not to his face. Not twice. Near as I can figure, his name, or one of them, is Macalusa. He and his buddies are the ones who killed our mutual friends. And my big cousin. Shot them in cold blood and enjoyed it,” she said. The smile, this time with a hint of tears. That certainly explained the anger.

She turned away. “We’d better have a new plan for tomorrow. We’ll leave earlier, and take the car. Jeb will drive and cruise around to make sure we’re not followed. You and I will keep our heads down, and we’ll wind up on Muelle 9.”

“It could be a coincidence that those people are here in Veracruz, but I don’t think so. They’re after our ‘Item’ themselves and might come this way anyway, but I think they were looking for me. They knew our travel route out of Nuevo Laredo. They knew the truck. That confirms there’s a leak at the Houston end. Damn.”

We asked for information and now we’re getting it, I thought. Good but not good.

“I won’t be able to call Houston after today without giving our position away if there’s a leak, so I’ll call now. They already know we’re in Veracruz. Besides, there won’t be any telephones where we’re going.”

“I’ll alert Houston to the leak and they can deal with it. No one there knows our movements from here on, and Houston can’t help us in the jungle, anyway. They know more or less where we’re going, of course, and so does the Runt. That’s no secret. He’s going there, too. He’s trying to head us off, get rid of us, before we get there ahead of him.”

“I’d better not call from Jeb’s room, I’ll use the pay phone downstairs, you two keep me covered, just in case. Just watch. I don’t think Macalusa knows about you, but keep a low profile. He’ll figure there is someone with me, but he won’t know who it is. We don’t need the truck for now, and they won’t know about that warehouse because no one in Houston knows about it. We may need that truck and the gun on the way back.” Way back. That was a reassuring concept. Needing guns was not.

LUCY

I called Houston from the hotel and talked to John to tell him about my suspicions and conclusions. He was appalled, but had to agree with my logic.

“John,” I told him, “we aren’t going to be in communication for a while. I can’t trust the Office right now. I can’t take a chance that information is going to get to Macalusa.”

“I have to agree with you, much as I hate it,” John replied. “We’ll get to work on this right now. Top priority.”

Could I even trust John, I thought? I couldn’t imagine not trusting him. I hated being this paranoid. You have to trust someone.

CARLOS

Lucy made her call without incident. Jeb and I watched her do it and we all returned to Jeb’s room. I called the front desk to ask them to bring our luggage down to the lobby. Later I went down to the cashier to check out for an early departure and to sneak the suitcases out to the parking area. Risky, but we needed that stuff. I stood in the dark watching the parking area for at least a half an hour before approaching the car and didn’t see anything suspicious. Maybe they weren’t even looking for us.

We all stayed in Jeb’s room for the night. Two beds, three people, and Lucy looked like she didn’t want to share. Neither did Jeb and I, so I wound up on the floor. After all, it was his room.

It was still dark when we crept down the back stairs to the parking area. Lucy and I crouched down in the car below window level, as Jeb wheeled out into the street, trying to look like a tourist with a long day of sightseeing ahead of him. We uncomfortably cruised around town for a half hour that seemed much longer. “Looks OK,” Jeb said, “Nobody’s on our tail and everything looks as normal as Veracruz ever does.”

“Go for it,” Lucy said. She was probably even more uncomfortable than I was, up there in the front foot well. “Head for Muelle 9.”

Danger / Peligro