Temple of the Jaguar Read Free Page A

be a very complex story. Or a complex set of directions. The text encircled an image of a stylized jaguar, a popular image in Mayan lore. I was intrigued by the size of the jaguar, easily twice as big as a man. “It’s a photograph of a Mayan disc glyph.”
    “ Ancient directions to Ciudad Blanca,” she said. “It’s why my father was killed.”
    I noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding band, and knew immediately that I shouldn’t care if she was wearing one or not. But I did, and the warning bells continued to sound in my head.
    “ My father found the disc on an excavation in the Copan valley thirty years ago. He returned it to the museum, where he has been deciphering it ever since. Had been deciphering it.” She looked away, pained.
    “ Has the entire text been deciphered?”
    She nodded. “Finished on the night he was murdered.”
    “ Coincidence?”
    “ No,” she said. “My uncle, you see, had a sort of spy working in the museum. Apparently, this bastard had been reporting on my father’s progress. My uncle waited thirty years for the glyph to be deciphered.”
    “ How do you know this?”
    “ He told me.”
    “ When?”
    “ Right after the funeral. He and I had a sort of family reunion.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a clear CD ROM case. “He was looking for this.”
    I reached for it, but she held it back.
    “ What’s on it?” I asked.
    “ The deciphered disc glyph in its entirety. A road map that goes through the jungles of Honduras. And, it goes on to Ciudad Blanca.” She paused. “Uncle Leo managed to steal everything but the final clue to Ciudad Blanca, a clue contained on this disk. The final clue my father deciphered on the night he was murdered.”
    “ And how did you manage to get the disk?”
    “ Father emailed me the results as a precaution. He correctly suspected he was being watched. I had the information burned to a disk.”
    “ So, Uncle Leo has everything but the final location of Ciudad Blanca.”
    She nodded. “He can start, but he can’t finish.”
    I smiled and sat back. “I hate when that happens.”
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    We were in my looting command center, on the fifth floor of the Hotel del Rio.
    The suite was cluttered with enough relics to fill a small museum, or two, all piled on dozens upon dozens of bookshelves. Most artifacts were of Mayan and Olmec origin: flint knives, beads, pottery, carved figurines, statuettes, carved reliefs and jewelry. I even had two life-sized obsidian skulls. Virtually priceless. I had boxes filled with spear points and tools and utensils, all labeled accordingly, and all piled around the entire suite.
    “ You are a busy little looter,” she said, stepping inside behind me. She went straight to the flint knives, as most do. Ornate jade carvings with razor edges. She touched the fine edge tentatively.
    “ The artifacts are there for the taking. I catalogue all my finds as well or better than most archaeologists, and I only sell to respectable museums. All on the hush-hush, of course, as most museums have an official policy to not negotiate with known looters. But, privately, I’ve had scores of representatives from many famous museums peruse these very shelves.”
    She put her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to know any more.”
    I grinned. “True, it’s a dirty little secret. In fact, I’ve sold to your father’s museum countless times, although I did not deal with him directly.”
    She dropped her hands and sighed. “Father was obsessed only with his disk glyph—and left the day to day running of the museum to myself and others.”
    She set the flint knife down and removed a manila file folder from her over-sized purse. She flipped it open and handed me two copies of a computer printout.
    “ What’s this?” I asked.
    “ It’s the partially printed text from the disc glyph.”
    “ Partially?”
    She smiled sweetly. “It’s for my protection, Mr. Caine.”
    “ Ah,” I said.