Chapter Six #3
The thirty-foot or so drop on the other side of the wall was still a problem, but upon closer observation of Quint’s photos, Angélica had agreed with his initial observation that there was a structure abutting the wall a short distance to the south.
So, they’d cleared a swath of jungle to that section of wall, built a rough-hewn ladder out of leather and saplings, and climbed up and over—well, all except Juan, who’d waited at the base of the wall for them to come back down.
The drop to the crumbling structure inside the wall was only about six feet, so they’d secured another makeshift ladder on that side and called it a day, waiting to explore any further until Dr. Fernel and his fancy LIDAR-based maps arrived.
“It’s hard to believe it’s only been a little over 72 hours since we came across those skulls and the wall,” he said to Juan. “Your daughter is a machine when it comes to building a fieldwork camp.”
“When that child wants to move mountains, she goes straight for the dynamite.”
In the distance, Quint heard a low thwump-thwump-thwump. He searched the sky above the trees. “You hear that?”
“Finally.” Juan breathed a sigh of relief. “The sweet sound of a quick trip back to civilization in an emergency.”
They both stood up to watch the small dot in the east grow larger. Juan waved up at Pedro when he hovered overhead, and then he retreated into the trees for protection, grabbing Quint’s shirt sleeve and pulling him back, too.
Quint shielded his face as the helicopter lowered to the ground, the winds kicking up pieces of the leaf and twig flotsam left over from their slashing. Then the whirling blades slowed, and the engine whine quieted until all was silent, including the surrounding jungle.
The moment of peace lasted for a few heartbeats before the jungle roared back to life, starting with the monkeys—both the barkers and the howlers. The birds followed, tweeting and shrilling, bringing the volume of life under the canopy back to an ear-bending level.
The passenger side door of the helicopter opened and a petite woman with short silver hair popped out—Daisy!
Full of smiles and her own brand of sunshine, she ducked in spite of the stopped blades and hurried their way.
“I’m happy to see you both again so soon!” she said, hugging Quint and then Juan.
It had only been a few weeks since they’d all left the last dig site, but with the hours and hours of hard work of late, it felt longer to Quint.
Daisy’s smile stayed on Angélica’s father for a few beats, before her blue-eyed gaze returned to the helicopter. “Pedro and I brought some beer on ice from Cancun to celebrate our reunion.”
Quint almost drooled. “Daisy, when you say things like that, I fall more in love with you.”
She laughed. “It was Pedro’s idea.”
Quint looked past her, watching the man of the hour open up the helicopter’s cargo door. Pedro looked more like a surfer fresh off the waves than a helicopter pilot with his Bermuda shorts, faded red T-shirt, and wind-ruffled black hair. Although his combat boots ruined the beach bum look.
“I’ll be sure to shower the flyboy with hugs and kisses after I’ve downed a cold beer,” Quint told her.
Pedro helped their other guest out of the helicopter, steadying Dr. Fernel, who’d come dressed for a safari in a beige getup covered with pockets from head to boots. A matching safari hat with neck flaps hanging around the geoarchaeologist’s face completed the look.
Fernel reached into the back of the helicopter and tugged out a large metal case, which promptly slipped from his grip. Quint winced, hoping the computer with the LIDAR maps wasn’t in there.
When Fernel bent to pick up the case, his hat fell off and rolled several feet away.
He stepped forward, tried to grab the hat, and somehow managed to kick it even farther away.
At that point, Pedro appeared to take pity on the guy and picked up the metal case and the hat, then pointed in their direction.
Dr. Fernel turned toward them, his bright red hair glinting like clean copper in the sunlight.
Quint stepped forward into the sunshine, squinting slightly. “I think I’ve seen that guy somewhere before.”
Juan moved up next to him. “Maybe you’ve seen a picture of him in one of those dull scholarly journals you claim to have read. He’s been very prolific of late, since he’s become so involved in LIDAR work.”
“He seemed nice,” Daisy said, weighing in from behind them. “A bit fidgety on the flight, but helicopter rides can do that to a person.”
Quint continued to stare, trying to place where he’d seen Dr. Fernel’s bright copper hair. “Maybe it was in an article about LIDAR and archaeology somewhere along the way.”
But something in his gut said otherwise. Something that added a shadow to Daisy’s news about the cold beer.
Hell, maybe Angélica had the guy’s picture sitting around when they were packing for this trip. She certainly hadn’t been happy about the geoarchaeologist trying to horn in on this dig site. Unease at seeing the man who’d given Angélica so much heartburn would make sense.
Pedro set down the metal case and pulled two more black cases from the back of the helicopter. Were those the drones Angélica said Dr. Fernel had received permission to bring? It would be interesting to see the area from up high.
Good or bad, the arrival of Fernel and his toys meant it was time to dig deeper at Site 5. Now that they had the fieldwork camp mostly set up, maybe Quint could trade in his machete for a trowel and brush.
He headed toward the helicopter to help Pedro with the cases and other supplies. “About time you got your ass here, Montanero,” Quint called out.
Pedro greeted him with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.
“Look what the rat dragged in,” Pedro said, pulling Quint in for a pat on the back.
“You mean cat,” he corrected.
Pedro had a way of mixing metaphors that made English far more colorful and entertaining.
“No, I meant rat. You’re the big cheese here, aren’t you? At least that’s what mi angelita said when she called and told me to get my sweet buns here.”
Quint grinned. “I’m definitely the big cheese.”
“He’s the big stinky cheese,” Juan said, joining them. He hugged Pedro. “I’m so glad to see you, mijo.”
“You’re just happy to see my helicopter, viejo.”
“That’s not true,” Juan said. “I’m happy to see your big bird and the cold beer Daisy told us about.
” He turned to their guest, his hand held out.
“Dr. Fernel, welcome to the jungle. I’m Dr. Juan García.
My daughter speaks highly of your fancy gadgets.
” He nodded toward Fernel’s cases. “Let me take you to meet her while these two tough hombres carry your gear to your tent.” He waved Daisy over. “Ms. Walker, you care to join us?”
Quint watched Angélica’s father saunter off with the geoarchaeologist at his side. How Juan managed to look cool and professional in spite of the bugs that Dr. Fernel kept swatting at with his hat was impressive.
His memory flashed back to not so long ago when he’d first arrived at Angélica’s dig site after riding in on a tandem bike with Teodoro.
He’d been hot and sweaty and fighting off the bugs when Juan had greeted him, giving a similar welcome.
However, Dr. Fernel had one thing going for him that Quint hadn’t—Angélica had known about the geoarchaeologist coming to the dig.
A surprise visit from a photojournalist had inspired plenty of glares from the boss lady … and then she’d caught him in a lie.
He shook his head. So much had changed since then, including who was doing the fibbing this time.
Quint turned to Pedro. “How’s life outside the jungle?”
“My sister is getting married again.” He didn’t look happy about it.
“Why the sour face?”
“Mi madre, she does not approve.”
“Do you?”
“Sure.” Pedro smiled. “This one comes with a big bank account and a nice house just outside of Mexico City. What’s not to like?” He pulled a small package from his shorts pocket. “Here. This is for you.”
Quint took the well-taped white bubble-envelope without looking at it and held it against his chest. “Aren’t you a sweetie, Montanero. But you didn’t have to bring me a gift. Your friendship is all my heart needs.”
Pedro rolled his brown eyes. “Save your hot love for Angélica, Junior Mint.”
“Junior Mint? Not you, too. You’ve been talking to Juan.” Quint took a look at the package, his grin fading when he saw his aunt Zoe’s name on the return address. “When did you get this?”
“It was at Angélica’s beach house this morning when I stopped by to pick up a few things for her and to see if Rover’s new pen is fenced and ready for him.”
Quint tore the package open while Pedro unloaded his own bag and a plastic gray tote. Inside the envelope, he found two things—a dark metal ring and a note from his aunt.
Something tells me you need this. It’s pure iron made from a melted horseshoe. Wear it on your right middle finger at all times.
Missing you so much!
Love always,
Aunt Zoe
“What is that?” Pedro asked, staring down at the ring. “Are you planning to ask a certain bossy lady to marry you?”
“Not today.” Between his traveling and Angélica’s struggles with trusting him, they had too many bumps to smooth out before he even thought about bringing up wedding rings.
“It’s from my aunt Zoe.” He held up the ring, turning it in his fingers. “She’s always had a way of knowing things before they happen to me and my sister, Violet.”
“She is … how do you say … a seer?”
“Maybe. My great-grandmother supposedly was. She carried a bag of rune stones with her all the time, cackling out wacky shit, especially when Violet was around.”
“What’s that on the inside?” Pedro asked. “Your initials?”
Quint tipped the ring to pick up the sunshine. “No, it looks like a …” he stopped, his breath catching. That was odd. How did his aunt know about …
“A butterfly.” Pedro smashed a termite that landed on the side of his helicopter. “Mi abuela from Mexico City believes butterflies represent the souls of dead warriors who died in battle.”
What was it Angélica had said about butterflies that day KuTu had come across those skulls? Something about the ancient Maya people believing butterflies were ancestors trying to bring back wisdom and a return of natural harmony?
“What are you going to do with that?” Pedro asked.
Quint slipped the ring onto his right middle finger.
“Wear it, like the note says.” He shrugged and forced a laugh, hoping it sounded real to Pedro’s ears.
“Who knows, it might be some kind of protection charm that will keep me alive when Juan drags me into one of those cramped temples with a ceiling one crack away from caving in on my head,” he joked, but was sort of serious.
Ancestors. Dead warriors. Huh.
What were the chances of this being one big weird coincidence?