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He moved cautiously down the limestone steps, one at a time, slowly, with respect, absorbing the details of the reliefs, a continuation of the story in the anteroom. Actually not a continuation, but additional information, more insight, depicting the ruler Pacal actually being buried in the Temple of the Inscriptions at Palenque upon his death by his son, Chan-Bahlum. But a dark future loomed beyond the horizon for the once-bustling city, a future of invasions, of desecration, of looting, of destruction. And so Chan-Bahlum had ordered the exhumation of his father in
A.D.
688, just five years after Pacal's death, and the search for a distant place, protected by the Petén's lush jungles, beyond the reach of the nearing wave of invaders. He had ordered that no records be kept of his decision to preserve the memory of his father, of his works, of his mortal remains. Scouts departed to all corners of the Yucatán, searching for the ideal site, settling on this one. By the end of
A.D.
689 the crypt had been finished, and Pacal's body transferred to its final resting place, as depicted by the last pictograph in the anteroom.

Cameron continued to interpret the carvings, struggling to contain his excitement, the euphoria that must have also swept through Ruz in 1952, the realization of making the discovery of a lifetime, the climax of his career. He spoke out loud, clearly, explaining to Susan everything he saw, everything he felt, how the site was finished by
A.D.
693 and ordered to remain guarded through the centuries, across the millennia, by generations of high priests under the protection of skilled warriors.

“For how long? Forever?” Susan asked.

Cameron shrugged. “I can't tell.”

After twenty steps they reached a landing with a U-turn, followed by another flight of thirteen steps, where Cameron saw more iconographic reliefs, detailing the early post-Classic Period, according to the dates, ranging from
A.D.
792 to around
A.D.
1201.

“That explains the feathery serpent and other post-Classic artwork. The descendants of Pacal and Chan-Bahlum continued to record their history for some time,” he commented, reaching the second landing, staring down a wide corridor beneath a triangular, corbel-shaped ceiling, amazed that the essence of the Maya Classic Period had survived the test of time, uninfluenced by the advent of technology, by the waves of invaders that razed Mesoamerica, eradicating its native culture. But the temple had not been fully isolated. Through the centuries other civilizations had somehow influenced Joao's ancestors, however subtly, maybe as a result of the Mayan military leaders' tradition of traveling beyond their land to learn about the outside world. That explained the Uxmal influence, as well as the influence of other ancient civilizations, including the works with gold from the Incas in Peru and the Aztecs in central and northern Mexico.”

“I can understand being influenced by the Aztecs, who weren't that far away. But the Incas, down in Peru?” Susan asked with amazement. “That's quite a ways down there.”

“You forget that almost five hundred years passed since this place was built to the time when the first Spaniards set foot in Yucatán. That's a long time. Much can happen in that many years.”

“Never thought about it that way,” Susan said, peering down the dark staircase. “I didn't realize how deep this place is,” she added, walking beside him, her hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light, a hand tucked in one of the pockets of the khaki vest Cameron had given her a few days ago.

“Let's see, thirty-three steps is about thirty feet below the level of the anteroom. This temple is taller below ground than above ground, built this way to keep it hidden from outsiders. They probably used all of the limestone they dug up to build the structure above ground, as well as the pyramid, the small palace, and the courtyard.”

“I feel a breeze,” Susan said.

Cameron nodded. “That's what I was hoping for. Like in Palenque, the architects who designed and built this place have included ventilation tubes from the outside to help control the moisture buildup.”

“Boy, do I feel lucky,” she commented, bracing herself.

“You should. That means we won't be asphyxiating anytime soon.”

“No, but we'll probably die from hypothermia.”

“Are you cold?”

She nodded.

“Show you a trick,” he said, reaching for the left sleeve of his own vest, tugging on a zipper partially covered by fabric. “Do like I do.” He unzipped a bag of folded material beneath the sleeve. He pulled on the fabric and it turned the short sleeve into a long sleeve of thin nylon lined with cotton. He did the same to his right sleeve.

She smiled and also quickly turned her vest into a light jacket. “Clever. Thanks. That feels better.”

“And that's not all.” He approached her, unbuckling the four straps of her vest, turning them inside out, and revealing a long zipper running from her waist up to her neckline. He zipped it up and then moved to the collar, Where another zipper released a hood, which he put over her head, securing it with straps.

“That's the thing about my job. One moment you're in the scorching heat, and the next you're walking in some cave in subzero temperatures. These vests are great to make those environmental changes a little more bearable.”

They moved down the corridor, past long tables packed with offerings, shells full of pearls, jade beads, dozens of pottery dishes, gold arrowheads, and several jade figurines. “Just like in Palenque,” Cameron commented, explaining how Ruz had found similar offerings beneath the Temple of the Inscriptions, as he neared Pacal's crypt.

They reached the end of the corridor, finding yet a third slab blocking the way. Another wall of mosaics covered the wall next to the limestone slab. Once again, the scientists went to work.

“The pattern is the same, but always with a slight change,” she offered.

Cameron smiled. It was not often that he encountered a woman who was not only beautiful and smart, but also someone with whom he could connect. “Do you want to do the honors this time?”

Susan readily accepted, pressing the harmonic numbers, starting with the lower right quadrant and continuing clockwise. The first rock-grating sound came from above, echoing down the stairs they had just taken.

“The floor,” Cameron said. “It's lifting back up.”

Her eyes widened.

“Relax,” he said, setting the lantern by his feet and hugging her. She hugged him back, hard, conveying a mix of affection and fear. “Remember the first rule in archaeological exploration,” he whispered in her ear. “You're never trapped as long as you can keep moving forward. Besides, whether there is one slab blocking our way back, or a thousand slabs, the end product is the same, you can't go back that way unless we find something ahead that can reset the stones, or show us another way out.”

Just then the slab in front of them disappeared in the wall, its rumbling amplified by the enclosing stone, ending in a hissing sound as air escaped out of the next chamber, momentarily swirling their hair while the relative air pressures equalized. His ears popped.

Cameron went in and froze. In front of him stood a replica of the burial chamber, roughly thirty feet square, found by Alberto Ruz Lhullier in Palenque, down to the large sarcophagus lid depicting Pacal at the controls of a spaceship headed toward the stars. During his lifetime of archaeological work, Cameron had literally memorized many works of Mesoamerican art. One such masterpiece was the carving on Pacal's sarcophagus, a five-ton block of limestone eight feet in width by twelve in length and almost a foot in thickness. It included the glyphs running along the border, surrounding the main relief, which told the primary mission of the Mayan chief.

Cameron walked all around the sarcophagus, inspecting the glyphs, verifying their similarity to the ones he'd committed to memory long ago.

“What do they say?” Susan asked.

“Pacal Votan, galactic agent 13 66 56 0, was ordered by those above him to leave his homeland by the Hunab Ku and go to the Yucatán, the land of the Maya on Earth, traveling through the Kuxan Suum. He arrived to a place by the Usumacinta River, near the site that became Palenque, which he then founded. Pacal built the Temple of the Inscriptions, designed for his return trip to the Hunab Ku, where he was to report that the terrestrial Maya were ready to receive the harmonic synchronization during its passage through the 5129 years of the Great Cycle ending at the completion of the thirteenth
baktun,
or zero one, zero one, zero zero.”

Susan frowned, her expression telling Cameron she was not certain what to make of the explanation. She pointed to a hole roughly ten inches in diameter on the far side of the chamber. It appeared to go up, toward the surface. “What's this?”

“Amazing,” Cameron said. “They even built what archaeologists have termed a psychoduct, or a speaking tube, just like the one in Palenque, connecting the crypt to the temple above us.”

“A speaking tube…” she asked, almost to herself. “Where does it go?”

“To the … hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“Do you think it still works?”

“Only one way to find out.” He pointed to the opening. “Be my guest.”

2

Jackie Nakamura heard it first, a faint cry emanating from the terrace, amplified by the incredible acoustics of the ancient edifices.

“Up there,” she said, pointing to a dark hole on the left side of the temple, where they had returned a few minutes ago after spending the last twenty setting up their equipment for tonight's event.

Ishiguro, who had been inspecting the mosaics, walked over to his wife, standing at the far left corner of the shadowy porch, where the carvings of two shamans showed them with their heads turned toward the foot-square hole, as if listening to it.

“That's Susan,” Jackie said.

3

While Susan shouted for help, Cameron continued to inspect the interior of the crypt, looking for differences between this place and Palenque, finding one on the left wall, a painting of the cosmos, depicting the southern constellation Centaur in the center, surrounded by other galaxies.

“Cameron,” Susan said, waving him over, pointing at the speaking tube. “Listen.”

“… you all right? We can hear you clearly.”

“We are fine,” Susan replied to Jackie, whose voice came through the hole with amazing clarity, as if she were talking from the next room. “Can you use the same combination of numbers to reopen the entrance?”

“Can't. The four numbers are still depressed. The returning slab did not reset them.”

In the twilight of the room, Cameron saw Susan frown. That probably also meant that the mosaics controlling the moving floor in the anteroom were also depressed.

“We'll figure a way out of here,” he said, a hand on her shoulder, pressing gently. “Trust me. I've been in tight spots before. If I know the Maya, there is something in this chamber that either resets the previous doors so that others can use them, or maybe it reopens them. The trick is figuring out what it is while avoiding activating decoys, traps meant for those who do not belong in here.”

“Like us?”

“We'll be all right, Susan.”

“Do you really have any idea how to get out of here?”

Cameron nodded. “I have my suspicions, but it's too early to tell.”

“That means you have
no
idea.”

“This map of the sky, for example,” he said, shooting her a look. “Notice how there are fine cracks containing clusters of stars. One such cluster corresponds to the Hunab Ku. That's one possibility. Another one's over there.” He swung the lantern to the section of wall flanking the entrance to the chamber, where a number of wall indents followed a hairline crack in the shape of a square. “Those look like finger grips. They could be for a drawer built into the wall, perhaps housing more offerings for Pacal to take with him in the afterlife. And over here, these reliefs depict the body of Pacal being lowered into his new resting home. Also notice the fine cracks around the shield of Lord Pacal.” He pointed to a mosaic six inches square. “Problem is, unless I'm quite sure, I can't just start pressing and pulling.”

She nodded. “Because they could be traps.”

“Right.”

Susan braced herself, inhaling deeply. “All right, Cameron. I believe you.”

“That's a relief,” he said, grinning.

She opened her mouth to reply but Jackie's voice filled the crypt.

“We're going to try to lower a couple of water bottles,”
Jackie said.

“Thanks,” Susan replied. “We can certainly use them.”

“You got it. Anything else?”

“Yeah. In case we don't make it out before tonight's event, there's some gear that I need you to get ready. Do you have pencil and paper?”