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  As Ruiz and Russell made their way along the jungle paths, Ruiz had to listen to a constant, unending litany of complaints. Each time Russell started up again, he promised to kill Sam and Remi Fargo in more elaborate and time-consuming ways. Ruiz walked in silence. Some might have advised that talking would have eased the pain in Ruiz’s feet, ribs, and hand. But the pain served to take his attention away from Russell’s complaints, and that was enough for now. Later on, if he and Russell ever made it through this green prison and Ruiz kept the use of his limbs, he would be happy to talk about the killing.

  Chapter 23

  GUATEMALA CITY

  The arraignment was held a few days later in the central court building in Guatemala City. Sam and Remi arrived with Amy Costa from the embassy. As soon as they were seated, Costa said, “Uh-oh. I don’t like the look of this.”

  “What is it?” asked Remi.

  “I’m not sure yet,” said Amy. “But it looks as though this isn’t going to go the way we thought. Take a look at the row of men sitting behind the defense table.”

  Remi held up a compact, ostensibly to check her makeup, and used the mirror to study each man. There were six of them, in expensive tailored suits. About half the people in Guatemala were of Mayan descent, and most of the rest were mestizos. But these men all looked about as Spanish as the people Sam and Remi had met in Valladolid while they were looking for the Las Casas papers. “Who are they?”

  “The Minister of the Interior, the chief judge of the courts, two important commerce officials, two senior political advisers to the president.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It’s like the bride’s side and the groom’s side at a wedding. They’re sitting on the defendant’s side.”

  “Are you surprised?” asked Remi.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be, but I am. In 2008, the country set up the International Commission Against Impunity. It was formed to clean up the court system and rid the country of illegal security forces just like the one you faced in Alta Verapaz. At least three of these men are members. I guess they’re not against impunity for their friends.”

  A moment later, a side door of the courtroom opened, and Sarah Allersby was escorted in by two police officers, who were followed by the Allersby attorneys. Remi nudged Sam. “Look familiar?”

  Sam whispered to Amy, “The first three are the team who came to our house to make the offer for the codex.” The Mexican, American, and Guatemalan attorneys who had been at that meeting were joined by three others.

  “The other three are partners in a respected local law firm,” Amy said.

  Sarah Allersby and the lawyers all remained standing. After a moment, the bailiff called the court to order, and the judge came in, climbed the steps to the bench, and sat. He hammered the gavel a couple of times and called for order. Everyone sat down.

  Just as the cloth of the judge’s robe touched his chair, attorneys from both the defense and the prosecution hurried to the bench. They conferred with the judge for several minutes. Sam whispered, “I don’t see any arguing.”

  “Neither do I,” Amy whispered. “I think the case has been settled.”

  “How could it be?” asked Sam.

  “And if it is, what are all the important men doing here?” asked Remi.

  “I’m guessing they’re lending the weight of their support to the winning side, so even if justice is blind, it won’t be foolish enough to cause trouble.”

  The judge made an impatient gesture at the attorneys, who all scurried away like a flock of chickens and dispersed to their places behind the tables.

  “The court has received the following settlement proposed by Miss Allersby’s counsel and seconded by the people of Guatemala.”

  “Why would the prosecution settle?” said Sam. Several people nearby turned to look at him with disapproval.

  The judge consulted his notes, then began again. Amy translated. “The charge of possession of a Mayan codex should be dismissed for lack of evidence. No such book was found. The charge of threatening people with violence should be dismissed. The two supposed suspects were never found.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Sam said. “Don’t the police get to produce evidence?” There was a murmuring, and people turned to stare a second time.

  The judge rapped his gavel and glared at Sam. Amy Costa whispered, “He’s considering clearing the courtroom. Please stay calm or he’ll throw everyone out, and we might have to wait weeks for transcripts.”

  The judge set aside the paper he had been reading and picked up another. He began to read again in Spanish.

  “I’m not catching that,” said Sam. “What’s he saying?”

  “Miss Allersby is claiming to be the uncontested discoverer of the ruined city. She’s asked for a ninety-nine-year lease on the land in exchange for a sum of money to be used by the Interior Ministry to protect wildlife in the Alta Verapaz district.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  Amy Costa whispered, “He’s describing the negotiated settlement. That doesn’t mean he’ll accept it. Nothing you say will change the terms.”

  Sam sat still, watching in silence.

  Amy whispered, “Now it’s Commander Rueda. She has asked that he be reassigned so he can’t retaliate against her.”

  Sam winced and looked down at his shoes but said nothing.

  Amy Costa listened for a moment while the judge said something in a loud, stern voice. Amy translated. “I approve the terms of the settlement and declare this case closed.” He rapped his gavel.

  Amy Costa stood up, as a number of other spectators were doing, so they could clear out before the next case began. “Come on,” she whispered to Sam and Remi.

  Sam said, “What? It’s over? We can’t testify or present any evidence?” He stood.

  Remi watched while half the courtroom turned to stare at Sam again. One of the people who turned to look at Sam was Sarah Allersby. A barely detectable smile of delighted amusement played on her lips for a second, and she turned to face forward again.

  “No,” said Amy Costa. “It was settled out of court ahead of time. It happens everywhere.”

  “This time, it’s a fraud. The richest person doesn’t just win, she never even gets charged.”

  Sam didn’t need any translation when the judge pounded his gavel and ordered, “Remove that man from the court.” He stood and stepped to the aisle. “Don’t bother. I’ll remove myself.”

  It was too late — the order had been given. Two large police officers seized him. One twisted his arm behind his back and the other placed him in a headlock, as they hustled him down the aisle, pushed the double doors open with his head, and kept going down the hall. When they reached the larger doors at the entrance to the building, they pushed them open with their free hands and then released Sam with a little push toward the steps.

  When Sam found himself outside the imposing building, where the rush of people and traffic surrounded him, he was relieved. He had already been mentally preparing himself for a booking session and a night in the Guatemala City jail. He stopped and waited for Remi and Amy, who appeared a moment later.

  As they walked down the steps, Remi said, “I know he’s a friend of yours. I’m so sorry that we got him in trouble. The evidence against Sarah Allersby really was conclusive. You can’t take a picture of something that isn’t in your possession.”

  “Don’t worry,” Amy said. “Commander Rueda knew what he was doing and he’ll be fine. He has allies too, and in a week, after this is forgotten, they’ll go to work on his behalf. This is how countries go from corrupt little backwaters to modern nations. People have to push them every step of the way — people like Commander Rueda and people like you.” She gave Sam and Remi a sharp look. “Don’t let up on Sarah.” She turned and walked off toward the American Embassy, leaving Sam and Remi standing in front of the courthouse.

  “Come on, let’s go,” said Remi. “I don’t want to be standing here when Sarah Allersby comes out,
gloating over her great victory.”

  Remi and Sam walked along the street in the direction of their hotel. “So, what do you want to do?” she asked.

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t think we can let her go on doing this kind of thing, do you?”

  “No, but what can we do about it?”

  “We use the Las Casas copy of the Mayan codex to figure out where she’s going and beat her to it.” He smiled. “Then we do it again. And again. And again.”

  Chapter 24

  ALTA VERAPAZ, GUATEMALA

  Sam and Remi sat in the passenger seats of the Bell 206B3 Jet Ranger helicopter with their earphones on to cut the noise while Tim Carmichael, president and chief pilot of Cormorant 1 Air Charter, guided the craft above the endless miles of green treetops. Carmichael spoke over the radio in his Australian accent. “We should be at your next set of coordinates in a few minutes.”

  “Great,” said Sam. “We spend one day at each site. At the end of each day, we climb aboard the helicopter and get out of the jungle for the night. The following morning, we fly to a new site.”

  “It’s the perfect job for a charter,” said Carmichael. “Fly in, take a nap, fly out.”

  “The sites have all been pretty remote,” said Remi. “And all of them are in heavily forested parts of the highlands.”

  Carmichael smiled. “No worries. We’ve been in this business since the 1960s and we haven’t lost anyone this week.”

  “Good enough for me,” said Sam. “Here’s the aerial shot.” He handed Carmichael an enlarged photograph with the coordinates marked on it in the white border.

  Carmichael stared at it, checked the coordinates on his GPS, and handed the photograph back. “We should be there in under five minutes.”

  They looked out at the treetops. There were ranges of low bluish mountains in the distance, a deep blue sky, and puffs of unthreatening white clouds. Earlier, they had seen a few roads and small towns, but it had been a long time since they had seen any signs of human inhabitants. Carmichael looked at the GPS.

  “There.” Remi pointed at a place in the jungle canopy where gray stone protruded between trees. “It’s right over there.”

  Carmichael brought the Jet Ranger around, tipped at an angle so they could look at the site as he circled it. “I definitely see something the color of limestone,” he said. “It comes right up through the trees.”

  “That’s it,” said Sam. “Let’s find a place to land.”

  Carmichael widened the circles, spiraling outward from the ruins. After a few minutes, he said, “I don’t see anything that looks like clear ground.”

  “No,” Remi said. “It’s all thickly forested.”

  Carmichael went farther out until he found a spot that was empty of trees. It was a patch of jungle that had burned to the ground. Carmichael said, “Finally. That’ll have to do.”

  “It looks like there must have been a fire,” said Sam. “Everything’s charred.”

  “Yeah,” said Carmichael. “Way out here, it was probably a lightning strike the last time it rained. I’m afraid you’ll have a long walk to the ruins, though.”

  “I have an idea,” Remi said. “Is that rescue gear working?” She pointed at the side door in the bay, where there was an electric winch and a cable with a harness.

  “Sure,” Carmichael said.

  “Can you operate the winch while you’re flying?”

  “I’ve got a second set of controls right here. I can set down here, rig you up, and lower you over the site, if you’re up to it. But I have to warn you, that’s a scary ride.”

  Remi said, “I know, but we don’t mind.”

  Carmichael looked at Sam for a reaction. Sam said, “We can rig ourselves up. Do you think you can set us down on the upper part of that gray stone? It seems to be the top of a building.”

  “There’s not much wind today. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

  “Remi, want me to go first?” asked Sam.

  “Nope,” she said. “Help me get rigged.”

  Sam and Remi unbuckled their seat belts, climbed over the seats to the back, and then got Remi into the harness. “Okay, Tim, let’s see where we can lower her.” They flew in lower and hovered over the spot where they had seen the gray limestone structure jutting through the treetops. “Ready?” asked Carmichael.

  Sam opened the side door. Remi sat on the edge with her legs dangling out, waved good-bye to Sam, and slid out the door, the rotor wash blowing her ponytail around wildly. “Now,” said Sam. The winch lowered Remi as Sam watched her progress. “Lower, lower, lower. Hold there, Tim. Just hover.” Remi reached the gray stone surface, then freed herself of the rescue gear. “She’s removing the harness. Okay, she’s clear. Raise the cable.”

  When the empty harness came up, Sam slipped into it and picked up his and Remi’s day packs by the straps. He sat on the floor of the open doorway. “Okay, Tim, come back for us at five.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Sam slid out and watched the top of the pyramid coming closer and closer as the winch lowered him to its top tier. There was a small temple on top, and he had to use his feet to keep from swinging into it, but then he was on the platform and the cable went slack. He slipped it off, then waved to Tim to raise it.

  Tim’s helicopter rose straight up, and he activated the winch to bring the harness up as he flew off to the west toward the burned clearing. Sam and Remi began to look through their packs. Remi said, “Pretty quiet all of a sudden, isn’t it?”

  He put his arms around her and kissed her. “It’s kind of nice to be alone.”

  “It is,” she said. “But if we don’t get this place photographed, we’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  “Let’s get it done.” Each of them opened a day pack, took out a pistol, stuck it in the bellyband they both wore under their shirts, and then took out a digital camera.

  They worked systematically, taking shots from each side of the pyramid, so that in all four directions they photographed a quarter of the surrounding city complex, which looked like an arrangement of steep hills covered by trees. They went into the house-sized temple atop the pyramid and took photographs of its walls, floor, and ceiling. The temple had two rooms plastered with stucco and then painted with murals that were in fairly good shape. They depicted a procession of Mayan people bringing bowls and plates to a hideous figure who must have been a god.

  They slowly descended the pyramid, taking photographs of it, of the steps, of the monumental buildings in every direction. Much of the time, each of them included the other person in the photograph to establish scale and to prove that they had been there.

  When they reached the ground level, they walked a quarter of a mile in each of the four directions from the pyramid, still photographing everything they could see. At the end of the afternoon, they returned to the foot of the pyramid and stopped on the east side. Sam took a foot-length section of PVC pipe, capped and sealed on both ends, from his pack. Inside were rolled papers, printed statements in English and Spanish. They said that Remi and Sam Fargo had been at this GPS position on this date to explore and map these Mayan ruins. There were also telephone numbers, e-mail addresses, and street addresses for contacting the Society for American Archaeology, the World Archaeological Congress, and the Society for Historical Archaeology, all of which had been notified of the discovery, as had the Guatemalan government. Sam dug a hole and buried the pipe in front of the eastern steps and then marked the spot with a small red plastic flag, like the ones that gas companies use to mark gas lines.

  “So much for that,” said Remi. “I feel a little like the old-time explorers who used to plant flags on other people’s property and say they owned it.”

  “Let’s just settle on the idea that we were here and registered it with the people who are qualified to study it and learn more about it,” he said. “That’s enough for me.”

  “And this is our fifth city,” Remi said. “Four major cities in ten days.”
>
  “We must be the world’s greatest tourists.”

  Remi looked at her watch. “It’s after four. Let’s climb up on our perch and get a phone connection with Selma’s computer so we can send her our photographs.”

  As they moved up the enormous work of earth and stone, they could see trees nearly as tall on all sides. At the top, Remi turned on her satellite phone, connected it to her camera, and sent her cache of photographs to Selma’s computer in San Diego. They had arranged at their first site that Selma would save all of the material and then forward it to David Caine at the university. He, in turn, would notify all of the international organizations that another previously unknown Mayan city had been found, partially mapped, and photographed.

  When Remi had transferred her photographs, she took Sam’s camera and transferred his. She looked at her watch again, and said, “It’s almost five. Didn’t Tim say he was coming at five?”

  “Yes.” Sam took his satellite phone and called Tim Carmichael. He heard the sound of ringing for a minute, then hung up. “He’s not answering.”

  “He’s probably flying, and he can’t hear the phone with the earphones on.”

  They waited about ten more minutes, listening for the sound of a helicopter, and then Remi said, “Nothing.”

  Sam called again, then hung up. He called the office of Cormorant 1 Air Charter in Belize and put on the speaker so Remi could hear.

  “Cormorant, Art Bowen.”

  “Mr. Bowen, we haven’t met. This is Sam Fargo. Tim Carmichael took us to a spot in the highlands of Guatemala. He was supposed to pick us up at five, but he hasn’t. He’s not answering his satellite phone. I wondered if you could please get him on the radio and check to be sure he’s all right.”

  “I’ll try,” said Bowen. “Hold on.”

  Bowen went away from the phone for a minute. More time passed, and Sam and Remi could hear low voices in the background. Bowen might have been on the radio or he might have been talking to someone in his office. After a few more minutes, he was back. “He’s not answering his radio either,” said Bowen. “We’re going to send another helicopter out there and see what’s up. Can you give me your exact position?”