Deity (11 page)

“What?
This was all for show?” KC spat, flinging a trail of moss from her shimmering
neck.

A
long rope ladder was thrown over the edge, its end plopping into the algae
clinging to the limestone edge of the pool, beckoning them.
Neither
argued.
KC took the ladder first, scrambling out as though escaping a
cesspool of flesh-eating acid. Peet followed, the water dripping off of KC’s
body patting him on the head.

The
crowd was slowly disbursing to more interesting sights by the time KC scrambled
over the rim of the cenote. As Peet approached the top himself, a familiar
voice stopped his breath.

“You
stepped into the chalk ring, didn’t you, Dr. Peet.”

Peet
snapped his head up to find two people hovering just above him. The first was a
stout little Mexican man Peet had never seen before. The second, all smiles and
sparkling green eyes, was none other than Lori Dewson.

* * * *

It
had been the chanting of the dancers that caught Lori’s attention. She’d been
standing in the I-shaped ball court listening to Chac explain how the solstice
sun cast a shadow from the goal ring to a skull-like ball centering an
elaborate mural below when they were distracted by the commotion at the
Castillo. When she looked she was stunned to find Dr. Peet in the center of it
all. She thought she’d been mistaken and she still couldn’t quite believe her
old professor was right there climbing out of the cenote before her—a survivor
of yet another 2012 mock sacrifice.

“This
is the last place on earth I thought I’d find you, Lori,” he said, shaking the
muck and water from his hair.

“Likewise,”
Lori said.

“You
two know each other?” Chac asked.

“Dr.
Peet was my professor at the university,” Lori explained. She caught Dr. Peet’s
eye. “This is Chac Bacab,” she introduced. “He’s an independent archaeologist
working here in Chichen Itza.”

The
introduction felt awkward—like introducing a new boyfriend to a suitor from the
past.

Dr.
Peet shook Chac’s sturdy hand with a solid grip of his own,
then
turned to the woman wringing out the tail of her shirt beside him. “This is
KC,” he said simply.

Lori
had already noted the handsome woman that had climbed out of the cenote first. So
this was what had occupied him these past months, she thought. She had no idea
Dr. Peet was in any sort of relationship. However, a girlfriend didn’t exactly
explain why he would abandon her dissertation work, did it?

“And
this is Father Ruiz,” Dr. Peet continued, indicating a priestly-looking Mexican
who approached from the pathway cutting back to the Castillo.

A priest?

“So,
what brings you to Chichen Itza?”
Chac asked, sweeping from Father Ruiz back to Dr. Peet.

“I’m
looking for Matt Webb,” Dr. Peet said, matter-of-factly.

“He’s
a popular man today,” Chac said.

“You
are looking for him too?” Father Ruiz asked, dabbing a handkerchief at the
sweat beading on his brow.

Chac
shrugged. “I don’t know that I’m looking for him, but I wouldn’t mind knowing
where he went.”

An unexplainable sense of jealousy flooded over Lori as
she felt herself slipping out of the conversation. It wasn’t that she suddenly
wanted Dr. Peet’s attention. She wanted his acknowledgment. But he had that
look in his eye, that growing intensity she always found in him when he was
working in the field. Even a soaking wet girlfriend afforded no more attention
from Dr. Peet when it came to his work.

“Do
you work with Matt?” Dr. Peet asked, incredulously.

“Chac
and Dr. Webb have been documenting the area’s glyphs and frescoes together,”
Lori jumped in. It had little effect. Dr. Peet’s full attention was focused on
Chac and once again, Lori felt pushed aside. It was as though he found her
lacking as a colleague, hindered by a generational gap—a kid among grown men. It
was unlike Dr. Peet to treat her this way and she felt offended by it.

“I
began the project on my own five years ago,” Chac continued. “Then, two summers
ago Matt approached me asking if I’d be interested in partnering up for our
projects.”

“What
was he working on?” Dr. Peet asked.

“Jesus.”

Father
Ruiz perked up. “Pardon me?”

“He
was looking for evidence of Jesus.”

KC
snorted. “I’d say he missed his mark. The holy land is over in the Middle East somewhere.”

“He’s
not looking for Jerusalem,”
Dr. Peet said. “BrighamYoung
University has had a
steady presence in Mesoamerican archaeology for nearly a century. They believe
there’s evidence here of places and events described in the Book of Mormon.”

Despite
Lori’s hard feelings, there was something comforting about listening to him
talk. After all, the majority of her collegiate career had been centered upon
his instruction. It was hard letting go of the familiar.

“Profesor
Webb’s attempt to bring Muslims, Jews and Christians together cost him his
job,” Father Ruiz said, continuing the conversation that seemed not to have
noticed Lori’s withdrawal.

KC
laughed. “What was he thinking?” she asked, wringing water from her hair. “Christians
alone can’t agree whose denomination is right much less
accept
other religions.”

“Losing
his job may not necessarily have curbed Matt’s interest in Mesoamerican
archaeology,” Dr. Peet said. “The Mormons are dedicated to validating their
doctrine.”

“He
may be performing his religious exchange experiment on his own now,” Father
Ruiz added.

Lori
noticed the troubled look on Chac’s chiseled face. It was as though he was
listening to them talk about a complete stranger.

“Didn’t
Dr. Webb tell you any of this?” she asked.

“It
seems there are a number of things he neglected to tell me,” Chac admitted. “And
now he seems to have mysteriously disappeared.”

“Did
he hint at where he might have gone?” Dr. Peet pressed.

Chac
shook his head. “I can’t imagine him wanting to go anywhere. We hadn’t even
finished documenting our latest fresco. He was excited about it.”

“What
could be so exciting about a fresco?” KC asked.

They
all looked at her, Lori perhaps holding the most surprise. Clearly KC didn’t
have an archaeologist’s appreciation for fingerprinting the past. Even Father
Ruiz looked a bit surprised by her blunt statement.

“I
was hoping to disprove a claim that it signatured Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl
presence in Chichen Itza,”
Lori offered.

“Quetzalcoatl,
Kukulkan,” Chac said in a steady tone. “It doesn’t matter what name you choose
to call him. To Matt Webb, that fresco is the most compelling evidence of
Jesus’ presence in the new world.”

Mayaland

Lori
choked the swan perched on her hotel bed and shook out the length of the
pristine white towel from which it had been twisted and shaped and carried it
through the double glass doors where Dr. Peet waited, dripping on the veranda
tile. He gratefully accepted the towel, folded it in half and laid it across
the cushion of his wicker chair and finally sat down where he unlaced his sloshing
boots.

Lori
waited patiently as she spied a peacock strutting through the lush gardens
sprawling just beyond. From the terra cotta pots edging the veranda to the
brick-paved footpaths webbing around fountains and thatch-roofed bungalows, the
gardens thrived with the lively calls of exotic birds fluttering in the canopy,
showcasing all the romance and flair expected of a tropical resort, right down
to the lanky royal palms framing the view of Chichen Itza’s ruins.

Lori
couldn’t quite convince herself that she deserved such luxury. After all, the
Mayaland Hotel had been booked solid for nearly two years in anticipation of
December 21, 2012. Gabriella had made plans accordingly. Lori was a last minute
arrival. However, Mike and Gabriella happily turned over their reservation for
a couple of days, opting to enjoy the coast in Cancun
while Lori met with Dr. Webb. For two days Lori had a place to stay but after
that she would be on her own and she wasn’t about to argue. Considering the lavish
suite that had just welcomed her, Lori almost regretted her earlier impatience
with Mike’s car and Gabriella’s colors.

As
Dr. Peet peeled off his dripping socks, Lori heard the shower kick on in the
bathroom where KC was already washing off. Less than ten minutes ago, Chac had
agreed to drive Father Ruiz back to the landing strip to collect a change of
clothes for the sacrificed couple while Lori offered them her room to clean up.
Now, there was something awkward about being in the room herself. The elegant
suite was intended for lovers, not a researching anthropology student.

“Why
don’t I wait for you two in the main terrace,” she suggested. It was awkward
enough to be in the presence of a man who had spent the last semester avoiding
her. Now she suffered an acute flash of third wheel syndrome.

Lori
backtracked through the glass doors and hurried across the single-bed room. Just
as she was about to flee the suite, Dr. Peet called after her.

“Lori,
wait.”

She
stopped with the door ajar in her hands. There was something heavy in his
voice, something authoritative. A part of her suddenly anticipated an
explanation, an answer to the question that had been plaguing her for months.

Why
did Dr. Peet, her greatest mentor, abandon her?

The
soppy man sloshed back into the spacious room and stood dripping on the
hardwood floor, an unmistakable blemish to the hand-carved mahogany framework
and tropical flowers intricately placed within the generous fill of sunlight. This
was the man that had instructed her throughout her collegiate career, who had
helped her retrieve the Effigy of Quetzalcoatl from the earth, the very same
man that had saved her life while recovering the artifact in Mexico City. Surely he was finally going to
deliver an overdue explanation.

“Please,”
he said. “Shut the door.”

Lori
hesitantly complied, all too aware of the shower still running in the bathroom.
She lowered herself to the edge of the bed beside the towel-swan’s mate and
waited, smelling Dr. Peet’s mud-musky scent as he pulled up a chair in front of
her.

“Matt
Webb isn’t the only reason I’m here,” he began.

Lori
held her breath, her mind racing ahead, groping for his next words. Had he
followed her here? No, that wouldn’t make sense. Who would travel so far just
to make an admission? She thought of KC and Father Ruiz. Had he come to get married?
Was he already on his honeymoon?

“I’m
looking for John,” he said, bringing Lori’s clambering mind to a jarring halt. Her
expectations collapsed beneath the weight of disappointment.

“Dr.
Friedman?”

“When
was the last time you talked to him?”

She
thought a moment, her eyes dropping from the wet shirt molded to Dr. Peet’s
chest to her own hiking shoes tucked against the papaya colored bedspread. Six
months ago she and Dr. Peet had consulted Dr. John Friedman in their search for
the stolen effigy. His expertise in Mesoamerican astronomy had helped piece
together the thief’s motives. Since the recovery Dr. Friedman spent a lot of
time with the museum in Mexico City,
occasionally e-mailing them with updates on the Effigy’s exhibit.

“I
talked to Dr. Friedman two weeks ago,” she said. “I called him to see if he’d
be willing to show Dr. Webb’s fresco to me. He said he was too tied up in Mexico City, so he hooked me up with Dr. Webb himself who
agreed to meet me here in Chichen Itza.
But by the time I got here Dr. Webb was gone. Why do you want to know?”

The
filmy white curtains reached for Dr. Peet’s bare ankles, temporarily pulling
his attention away. He shut the glass doors, effectively muffling the birds
outside and blocking the breeze that had blown life into the room. It was as
though he intended to punctuate his next words with the sudden stillness.

“Matt
isn’t the only one missing.”

Lori
listened as Dr. Peet filled her in on the Effigy’s theft from the museum. She
thought it was a joke at first. After all, what were the chances of an artifact
getting stolen twice? Dr. Peet explained the breach in the museum’s security
codes. He told her about the videos from the security cameras and Dr.
Friedman’s sudden disappearance. It all raised suspicions, but how was any of
it possible? Why would the highly-respected anthropologist steal the Effigy?

“There’s
something else,” Dr. Peet continued. “The Effigy turned up at the Metropolitan
Cathedral. It appears to have been exchanged for a reliquary cross which has
yet to be found.”

“Ah,”
Lori said. “That explains the priest. So you’ve come to Chichen Itza not only looking for Dr. Webb
and Dr. Friedman, but this stolen cross as well.”