Chapter Two #2
“We need Teodoro, too,” Juan continued with his list of demands. “And his shaman healing remedies.”
Teodoro knew the jungle’s dangers and hidden secrets like the back of his hand.
Not only was the Maya shaman good at healing injuries, hunting wild game, and protecting all of them from evil spirits lurking in the dark, he could also catch and bag snakes by the dozen.
After the warnings from these guards about slithering critters that liked to hole up in boots left outside on the ground, Quint figured a snake-wrangler should top this camp’s requirements.
Quint swatted at something buzzing near his ear. “The more warm bodies, the merrier.” That would give the mosquitoes and flies someone else to pick on.
He looked up into the night sky. Where were the bats when they needed them? Surely there must be a cave or two around here holding a few thousand of the bug eaters.
“I don’t need to be dealing with another toothache this far from civilization.” Juan rubbed his jaw. “That last one was a doozy.”
Quint could also foresee himself needing some of that greasy, hay-scented liniment Teodoro kept on hand to take care of back and shoulder aches after a day of moving rocks here and there, not to mention digging in the dirt for ancient knickknacks.
Something rattled around high up in the trees behind him. Quint turned toward the sound right when a high-pitched screech rang out. He cringed through the applause-like sound of several pairs of flapping wings.
What the hell was that? He waited to catch a glimpse of whatever had scared off the birds, but saw nothing in the darkness. The branches stilled; the jungle’s dance party soundtrack kicked back to life at a blaring volume.
Damn it, this camp wasn’t big enough for his sphincter to relax for more than ten minutes.
He turned back to Juan. “Teodoro’s face would be a welcome sight about now.”
Juan leaned closer, speaking low, quiet. “That burly guard bothers me a bit.”
“Why? Because he carries the biggest gun?”
It was more than that, though. There was something almost sinister in his dark eyes, too. And his accent had been different. Still Spanish, but not a local dialect. More tight-lipped with sharper edges on his consonants.
Juan nodded. “That and because he keeps talking about all of the damned snakes slithering around here. I might try to butter him up some, keep him and his big gun on our side.”
Damned snakes was right. In addition to the good ol’ yellow bearded bastard, aka the fer-de-lance, and the nightmarish tales of tissue necrosis caused by its venom, the burly guard had also shared knee-wobbling stories about his experiences with rattlesnakes and coral snakes.
Oh, and then the tall, skinny guard had added a short epilogue about some kind of jumping pit viper with a hole between its eyes that contained a heat-sensing organ to help it locate warm-blooded prey in total darkness.
Holy hell! The rattlesnakes at the last dig site were starting to seem downright friendly in comparison.
Quint scooted closer to the firelight, checking for slithering visitors around his chair. “Maybe Teodoro can bring a whole shitload of antivenin, along with his other homemade pain meds.”
“And don’t forget María.”
“That’s a given.” The two of them came as a package deal. But, apparently, Juan was back to thinking about food rather than the venomous hissers that had Quint considering wearing two sets of snake gaiters while he slept.
“We’re not going to have the strength to clear out this place without a lot of María’s homemade masa tortillas filled with chicken in that spicy orange sauce of hers,” Juan said, licking his lips.
Something tickled the back of Quint’s neck. Christ, not another worm. He slapped at it only to hit a finger instead.
Angélica chuckled, rubbing his shoulders. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist messing with you after watching you squirm through Bronko’s horror stories about snakes.”
He scowled at Juan. “Has anyone ever told you that your daughter is an evil woman?”
“Yes, but they’re all dead now.”
Including her ex-husband, Quint thought wryly. But the asshole had brought that on himself.
Even though he was enjoying Angélica’s touch, Quint started to rise so she could have his chair, but she pushed him back down again.
“Stay put, heartbreaker. I’m happy to stand for a bit.”
He looked up at her, watching the firelight and shadows ripple across her lined brow. Strands of her auburn hair had escaped her long braid and curled willy-nilly along her face, giving her a frayed-at-the-edges look. “Where have you been?”
“On the satellite phone with my boss. I let him know we’d made it close to the site and wanted to confirm the names of the hired guards he’d helped secure for us.
” She glanced back toward the communications tent.
“I figured it was worth double-checking. We don’t need any surprise guests at this site. ”
“Good thinking.” The “surprises” at the last two sites had nearly been the death of Quint.
“And?” Juan pressed. “Are we good here with these fellas?”
She nodded. “All three come highly recommended with impressive resumes.”
Quint wondered if her boss had come clean tonight about accidentally blowing the whistle on Angélica’s lie about having to cancel the vacation Quint had planned for them due to her job demands.
When Quint had found out from her boss that the choice to change course and come to this site had been hers and hers alone after she’d learned about the geoarchaeologist wanting to check out this place, he’d felt sucker punched.
A few beats of silence had come from his end of the phone call before he’d caught his breath, swallowed his surprise, and then continued pitching his idea to her boss for several articles promoting INAH’s exploratory work at remote Maya ruins.
The end goal—to bring in more archaeological-tourism dollars for Mexico and show the world that there was much to learn yet about the Maya people.
Quint turned so he could see Angélica without craning his neck. “Did your boss have anything else to say about this place?”
She stared down at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Like what?”
Several times as they’d packed for the trek to this site, he’d thought about confronting her, asking why she didn’t tell him the truth. But he’d waited. He wanted her to come clean without prompting. To trust in him to be understanding.
So far, she kept holding her cards close to her vest and not sharing. Damned stubborn woman.
He shrugged, giving up on winning any confessions tonight. “Like if Dr. Fernel had offered enough money to buy his way here yet?”
“Yes.” She scowled at the fire. “Dr. Fernel is now offering twice as much money if INAH will allow him and his LIDAR data to join us here.”
“Do you still have a say in the matter?” Juan asked.
“I don’t know. It’s a lot of money, and his data is supposedly far better than anything we currently have for this part of the biosphere reserve.
Meetings are going to be held the day after tomorrow for a final decision on the newest offer.
” She focused on her father. “In the meantime, we are to be INAH’s eyes on the ground and report back our initial findings tomorrow evening. ”
The frustration underlying her tone said plenty. She wasn’t holding out much hope for keeping this site to herself.
Quint watched the flames dance.
Maybe this was good. The jungle seemed to have won the battle with these ruins. It was going to take a lot of machete swinging and careful digging to see what was hidden underneath. Using LIDAR data would save them a shit-ton of sweat and sore muscles.
In the meantime, maybe a change of subject would erase the frown lining her face.
“Bronko knows how to tell a good snake story, but what’s his deal?” Quint kept his volume down so only Angélica and her father could hear him. “Is he some kind of super-ranger for the reserve who bench-presses looters in his spare time?”
She glanced toward the forest, in the direction where Quint had watched Bronko disappear a short time ago after telling everyone he was heading out to perform a perimeter check. “According to what my boss just told me, Bronko used to work for a South American drug cartel.”
Juan sucked air through his teeth. “That would explain his ease with that pistol on his hip.”
“Don’t forget about the AK-47 rifle hanging from his shoulder.” Quint leaned closer to Angélica. “When you say work for, you probably don’t mean as just a simple drug mule, right?”
He’d read an article a few years ago written by a friend in the business about the narcotics trafficking attempts through Bogotá’s El Dorado International airport.
Often victims of extortion by a cartel, these mules risked not only their freedom, but their lives, trying to move drugs out of the country by ingesting packets of the illegal stuff, or inserting drug-filled items into places the sun never shines.
“He was no mule.”
“A drug runner then?” Juan asked.
She shook her head. “He was a sicario.”
Quint grimaced. “No shit.”
He’d heard plenty over the years about the assassins the drug cartels hired to take out their enemies. Anyone’s name that showed up on a sicario’s to-kill list was pretty much fucked. Nothing short of a miracle could save their ass.
“Well, I’m certainly glad he’s on our side then.” Juan’s gaze hardened. “Wait. Your boss actually hired this hitman to play guard?”
“Bronko comes courtesy of the Mexican version of the FBI. According to my boss, INAH employees require federal protection this far away from civilization. Between the cartels who run drugs through these forests, the illegal loggers and hunters, and the black-market treasure looters, it’s not safe to work out here without armed backup. ”
“Are the other two guards ex-cartel members, too?” Quint asked.
They didn’t look as buff or glower as much as Bronko, but both had a confidence that came with years of wandering through the jungle.