Ice Shock (6 page)

We don't care. We have Thompson's document folder and Madison doesn't. It contains three sheets of paper on which someone has copied a bunch of Mayan hieroglyphs and two more pages as well, where I can see some writing in English. In the dim lights of the bus, we pore over the pages.

The first page I kind of recognize. The second two are packed more densely with glyphs. The fourth page is handwritten in English—a copy of a diary entry. The final page in the folder contains both English writing and Mayan glyphs. It looks as though someone has tried to translate a bunch of them.

Here's what the diary entry says:

May 12, 1965

Met this morning by appointment with a certain Señor Aureliano Garcia of the Yucatan, Mexico. Not a gentleman with whom I have any previous acquaintance; nonetheless, he supplied impeccable references from the National Institute of Anthropology in Mexico
.

Our correspondence over the past few weeks concerned an object which came into my possession many years ago. The artifact in question was part of a consignment purchased at auction from the contents of a house in Vienna in 1951. There was an unfortunate incident involving its opening, and I have been reluctant to have any further dealings with the item
.

Accordingly, I arranged for its safe storage. I tried to forget about the matter
.

Now, almost fifteen years later, I find myself dredging up memories of an abominable nature. Señor Aureliano Garcia, most astonishingly, appeared to know about my possession of the artifact. Indeed, he wrote requesting that I agree to his purchase of same
.

Naturally, I agreed. Anything to spare my heirs from having to deal with it
.

It was therefore with considerable anxiety that I watched Señor Garcia remove the artifact from its place of storage. Unwilling to risk myself further, I hesitated even to watch. I was, however, assured that a gas mask would provide
adequate protection. How I wish I had known this years ago when we first opened the artifact! Señor Garcia himself appeared oblivious to the perilous character of the relic
.

He asked if I had read any part of the object. Wishing to be swiftly rid of Señor Garcia, I'm afraid I dissembled, replying in the negative
.

In point of fact I did, years ago, attempt a transcription. Not touching the artifact presented a challenge. I turned a few pages with tweezers. What I read convinced me of the uselessness of proceeding further. I declined to share my findings with the world of fellow Mayan scholars. The artifact, I believe, has more in common with either an elaborate hoax, or perhaps more sinisterly, a supernatural nature of the most wicked kind. As such, it would hold no interest for me. I am an archaeologist, not a practitioner of the occult
.

Señor Garcia, however, could scarcely contain his delight. He claimed that before long the item would be displayed in Mexico City's spectacular new National Museum of Anthropology
.

I await his findings with bated breath
.

The language is a bit old-fashioned. We have to read it through a couple of times to get the gist. Tyler and I agree that basically, what it says is this:

Thompson got hold of a Mayan relic, which did something horrible to someone who touched it. When Aureliano Garcia
(my grandfather) came asking for it in 1965, Thompson was only too happy to hand it over. Just like the
brujo
in Catemaco, he believed that the object was cursed.

I pretend to Tyler that I'm not sure what this “artifact” is, but even he guesses that it's the Ix Codex.

“So these must be copies of the first three pages!” he says with delight.

“I guess so.”

“If that Madison guy is bothering with them, that means he probably hasn't got the actual codex.”

“Yep. Definitely.”

“And now you've got these pages!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Dude, why aren't you excited?”

“Because,” I reply, “I'm wondering why he didn't chase us.”

“It was dark! We were out of there like lightning!”

I shake my head. “I know this guy. He wouldn't give up so easily. He's coming after me again.”

Tyler gives me a long, curious look. “You know a lot more about this than you're letting on.”

“Yeah. It's true.”

“But you're not gonna tell me?”

“I will. One day, I promise. Right now it's too dangerous. You okay with that?”

He grins ruefully. “Guess I have to be.”

“There's a lot more to my father's death.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, laughing. “Tell me something I
don't
know.”

“Madison and me … we've got unfinished business.”

By the time we say good night and head for our houses, it's past midnight. The next day, I decide I'm going to stay home. In fact, my plan is to stay in my bedroom with the pages until I can figure out what to do. I've pretty much decided that destroying the documents is the way to go. But first I scan the pages, set up a brand-new file storage account on a new Web site that claims to be super secure, behind a password I've never used before.

And then I erase all traces of my activity from the computer's browser history. So even if Madison breaks in again, he won't be able to follow what I've done.

This is all very absorbing, so when Ollie turns up on my doorstep around lunchtime, she takes me by surprise.

“Hey,” she says, her voice all soft. “I was looking for you yesterday. Where were you?”

“Tyler and I went on a trip.”

“Fun?”

“To be honest, scary.”

We go upstairs and I turn off the TV.

“Scary? How?”

I hesitate. But she's only going to hear the same from Tyler.

“We found something. Another clue to the Ix Codex.”

She's blown away. “Wow! Amazing! What is it?”

I shake my head. “You know what, Ollie, it was great having you and Ty to help me last time, but this time … I don't know. I already got you both into trouble. So I'm going to finish this—destroy everything I have about that codex, forget about it, and get on with my life.”

“You really think it's that dangerous?”

“I
know
it is.”

“And you're worried about me?” she says with a hint of a smile.

“What do you think? Of course!”

“That's really sweet.”

She stares into my eyes then and I really don't know what to say.

“‘Sweet' … come on, now,” I say with a nervous grin. “No guy wants to be ‘sweet.'”

She steps a little closer. “Okay. You're not ‘sweet.'”

“Good.”

She takes another step. I can smell her perfume; it's like flowers after rain.

“I stopped thinking of you as ‘sweet' back in Mexico.”

My mouth goes dry. “Uh-huh …”

She takes both my hands in hers. “Yeah. And look … you're taller than me now.”

“A bit. It's only 'cause, well, you're really …”

“Petite?”

“Yeah.”

What are we doing? She can't be thinking what I'm thinking
…

But she keeps going. “Think you'll get taller?”

“Hope so.”

She shrugs, smiles. “A little taller couldn't hurt.”

We're standing inches apart; she's holding my hands, breathing right against my mouth, and I somehow can't make myself move.

She's two years older than you, idiot! Whatever you think this is, you're wrong. One false move and it'll be a slap in the face for you
.

And right then, she leans closer and kisses me. Right on the lips. I keep thinking she's going to stop but she doesn't and she doesn't push me away. Eventually it's
me
who pulls away … because I have no clue what to do next.

I hunt for something to say, which is tricky because I can hardly breathe.

She smiles. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

I cough nervously. “No … no … it was like … wow!”

She leans a wrist on my shoulder and actually runs her fingers through my hair. “You're not weirded out that I'm older than you?”

I laugh. “Are you kidding … ?” And emphatically add, “No way!”

“So you'd go out with me … ?”

“Ollie, of course I would!”

“How about right now—how about a movie and then ice cream at G&D's?”

I could burble stuff about her making my dreams come true, but thankfully I don't.

My first date with Ollie and I can't even blog it. Mind you, the idea of anyone reading what I'd write about that is just too embarrassing.

Well, in fact, it's a false start. Ollie gets a text while we're in the line for the movie and she has to go home. Seems that she's forgotten that she has a big schoolwork deadline the next day. So I trudge home, a bit deflated.

How can she think of schoolwork at a time like this?

On Monday before I leave for school, I manage to remember to grab the document folder with the copied pages from Ix Codex—no way can I leave it around the house while I'm out. I stuff it into my backpack and carry it around all day. I don't take it out of my backpack until I'm on the bus home that afternoon.

Seeing Madison again was a shock. Oxford used to feel so cozy and safe, especially compared to Mexico. But now that I know Madison's back in the UK, it makes me wonder. Oxford, Beirut, Mexico—Madison sure gets around. Is he based here,
though? When Madison burglarized our house last year, stole our computers and that book by John Lloyd Stephens, I assumed he was a secret agent working for the CIA or something. Back then I'd never even heard of the National Reconnaissance Office.

But when I was actually interrogated by the secret agents who were on the case—agents from the NRO—they told me that Madison wasn't with them.

In fact, they were pretty sure he was on more than one Most Wanted list.

And anyway, the NRO were already on my case—ever since they captured and murdered my dad, they must have been monitoring my e-mails and Web searches. The NRO have been after the mysteries of Ek Naab ever since they found my grandfather's crashed Muwan, back in the 1960s.

So if Madison didn't tell the NRO about my involvement with the Ix Codex, who does he work for?

Or could I be wrong?

Could it all be a big ruse—Madison being a suspected terrorist wanted by the FBI and CIA? What if he's actually one of their own, but working undercover? An undercover double agent, like Krycek from
The X-Files
.

Maybe only Madison knows who he really works for.

I turn these thoughts over and over, wondering. Who is Simon Madison? Why did he steal that book by John Lloyd Stephens? Is it possible after all that he did kill my father?

And I'm so lost in this that it's only on the bus back home that I think to look at those pages one last time before I burn them. And that's when I notice.

The pages inside the document folder have been switched
.

The copied pages from the Ix Codex, the diary entry, the translation, and all the copies are gone. Instead, there are just a handful of blank pages.

I look around the bus. I'm suddenly paranoid. Is Madison following me even here?

But no. It's more serious than that. I've had these documents on me the whole time, except for last night. There's only one possibility, and it almost stops my heart to think it.

Ollie.

Is that why she came around last night? Is that what it was all about—getting me out of the house so that Madison could come over and steal the pages? I didn't lock the back door until I came home—Madison could have sneaked in, gone to my room. Mom might never have noticed.

The more I think about it, the worse I feel. I'm almost dizzy, totally distracted. When someone from school yells, “Josh, wasn't that your stop back there?” I realize that I'm on the way to Woodstock and way past my house.

Why, though? Why would she? That's what I can't figure out. Did Madison get to her somehow? Bribe or threaten her? Maybe he threatened me and she thought she was doing me a favor, getting rid of the last thing that put me in danger?

I'm about to call Tyler to talk it over with him.

But on the long walk home, my hands and face freezing in the cold December wind, I get to thinking. Tyler is the only other person who knew I was going to Saffron Walden. What if Madison's appearance there was no coincidence?

I remember now that Tyler was texting someone on his cell phone while we sat on the bus. He said it was a girl, wouldn't show me the texts. But
that
was weird. He's always showing off about the girls who like him. Why not then?

Was Tyler giving Madison a tip-off that we knew there might be a clue to the Ix Codex in Saffron Walden?

Once I get started, it starts to look like it could be Tyler just as much as it could be Ollie. Now I think back, I remember I was with Tyler the night that Madison robbed my house.

Tyler came to me. He practically begged me to go to capoeira with him that evening
.

It makes sense. Tyler hadn't been that much of a friend before that day. He was just another guy from capoeira. After that, somehow, he'd become involved with helping me solve the whole codex mystery. I haven't given it much thought before.

Why did he? Was Tyler working with Simon Madison?

Had Tyler betrayed me from the beginning, helped Simon Madison to get into my house and read files and e-mails from my computer, which led him to my half sister in Mexico, which led to her death?

I reach my house, dazed. Mom takes one look at me.

“Goodness, Josh, what's wrong? You're as white as a sheet!”

I collapse onto the living room sofa. I must look bad, because Mom follows me.

“Seriously, Josh. You're worrying me. Are you ill?”