a con artist. Then again, one never knew. At least the weather was warm and the area was gorgeous, with the high bluffs overlooking a white sand beach and aqua ocean.
Thoughts of the beach evaporated as she scanned the market, looking for her contact. Gideon had set up a meeting with a local man who had information—handed down from his family—on the location of the tomb.
She strolled the aisles, taking in the smell of roasting meat, the sound of children playing, the cluck of chickens. She passed colorful stalls loaded with lush fruit and vegetables.
She walked at a slow pace, looking for a small hut with an indigo print curtain. Gideon and told her a man would be inside the hut and would be expecting her. Her eyes raked the crowd, her heart skittering when she spotted the curtain. Just inside, an old man, his face a map of wrinkles, sat on a stool. In front of him, smoke drifted out of a hookah. Behind him, the inside of the hut was pitch black.
Kate hesitated just outside the hut watching the man, trying to guess his age. He looked ancient. His skin was dark and incredibly wrinkled, his black hair shot with gray. He looked up, piercing her with brilliant blue eyes. He gave an imperceptible nod.
“Matzaleah?” Kate gave the code word Gideon had told her to use.
The man nodded and gestured for her to enter. She stepped inside and, with one swift motion, the man shut the curtain, cutting off the sunlight that had been warming her shoulders, surrounding her in darkness.
Kate felt a niggle of doubt take root in her stomach. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to come here alone.
The pungent, spicy smoke filled the hut. Kate focused on breathing through her nose, hoping to filter out the effects of whatever it was the guy had going in his pipe.
The sound of water bubbled out of the pipe as the man took a toke through a flexible hose whose resemblance to a snake made Kate shudder. He turned his brilliant blue eyes on her.
“So, you want to know about the legend,” he said.
Kate nodded.
Light filtered in around the curtains in the front and back and between the cracks in the flimsy walls of the hut which was empty except for the man, his obnoxious pipe and a plain, wooden stool. The man gestured for Kate to sit on the stool and she did. She started to relax—maybe because the man seemed harmless, or maybe it was the effects of the secondhand smoke. She wasn’t sure which. She pulled the stool up and took a seat.
The man held his palm up toward her. Kate remembered that Gideon had told her the man would expect payment. Silver coins. She dug them out of her pocket and dropped them into his palm.
He looked at them, flipping each one over, and then smiled a toothless smile as he slipped them into his own pocket. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“The legend is old, from my great-great-great-grandfather’s time,” he said. “Many think this is the area of the Mayans, but the Aztecs that came after them were great rulers here, too. My grandfather was descended from these rulers and the old stories were passed down through the generations.”
Kate nodded. She wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t really care about the guy's grandfather or his legends. She just wished the guy would get on with it and tell her where the tomb was.
“Many have tried to find the burial place of Itizuma.” The man’s face darkened. “And many have failed.”
“Well, hopefully I’ll have more success than they did,” Kate said.
The man laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was ominous, and Kate felt a chill dance up her spine. “You would do well to stay away from the tomb. No good can come of it. Some things should stay buried forever.”
Kate straightened on the primitive stool. “That may be the case but there could be significant historical finds in that tomb. Finds that could help us understand the way the Aztecs lived. Wouldn’t you want us to find out more about your ancestors?”
Thoughts of the beach evaporated as she scanned the market, looking for her contact. Gideon had set up a meeting with a local man who had information—handed down from his family—on the location of the tomb.
She strolled the aisles, taking in the smell of roasting meat, the sound of children playing, the cluck of chickens. She passed colorful stalls loaded with lush fruit and vegetables.
She walked at a slow pace, looking for a small hut with an indigo print curtain. Gideon and told her a man would be inside the hut and would be expecting her. Her eyes raked the crowd, her heart skittering when she spotted the curtain. Just inside, an old man, his face a map of wrinkles, sat on a stool. In front of him, smoke drifted out of a hookah. Behind him, the inside of the hut was pitch black.
Kate hesitated just outside the hut watching the man, trying to guess his age. He looked ancient. His skin was dark and incredibly wrinkled, his black hair shot with gray. He looked up, piercing her with brilliant blue eyes. He gave an imperceptible nod.
“Matzaleah?” Kate gave the code word Gideon had told her to use.
The man nodded and gestured for her to enter. She stepped inside and, with one swift motion, the man shut the curtain, cutting off the sunlight that had been warming her shoulders, surrounding her in darkness.
Kate felt a niggle of doubt take root in her stomach. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to come here alone.
The pungent, spicy smoke filled the hut. Kate focused on breathing through her nose, hoping to filter out the effects of whatever it was the guy had going in his pipe.
The sound of water bubbled out of the pipe as the man took a toke through a flexible hose whose resemblance to a snake made Kate shudder. He turned his brilliant blue eyes on her.
“So, you want to know about the legend,” he said.
Kate nodded.
Light filtered in around the curtains in the front and back and between the cracks in the flimsy walls of the hut which was empty except for the man, his obnoxious pipe and a plain, wooden stool. The man gestured for Kate to sit on the stool and she did. She started to relax—maybe because the man seemed harmless, or maybe it was the effects of the secondhand smoke. She wasn’t sure which. She pulled the stool up and took a seat.
The man held his palm up toward her. Kate remembered that Gideon had told her the man would expect payment. Silver coins. She dug them out of her pocket and dropped them into his palm.
He looked at them, flipping each one over, and then smiled a toothless smile as he slipped them into his own pocket. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“The legend is old, from my great-great-great-grandfather’s time,” he said. “Many think this is the area of the Mayans, but the Aztecs that came after them were great rulers here, too. My grandfather was descended from these rulers and the old stories were passed down through the generations.”
Kate nodded. She wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t really care about the guy's grandfather or his legends. She just wished the guy would get on with it and tell her where the tomb was.
“Many have tried to find the burial place of Itizuma.” The man’s face darkened. “And many have failed.”
“Well, hopefully I’ll have more success than they did,” Kate said.
The man laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was ominous, and Kate felt a chill dance up her spine. “You would do well to stay away from the tomb. No good can come of it. Some things should stay buried forever.”
Kate straightened on the primitive stool. “That may be the case but there could be significant historical finds in that tomb. Finds that could help us understand the way the Aztecs lived. Wouldn’t you want us to find out more about your ancestors?”
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